#i wish i had more of an idea for plot for this!
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why must great premises happen to bad authors
#honestly the book i just finished was perfectly enjoyable#but the premise is so delicious and i'm now getting myself worked up about how much more a better author could have gotten out of it#not even necessarily plot-wise (but also maybe plot-wise) but just in terms of the atmosphere and levels of terror#ideas that make you go 'damn i wish stephen king had thought of that first'#would have been great as a creepypasta too lmao#a shout into the void
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Hello hello! :D
SQH-SY siblings au for the ask game, please?
I'm pretty sure I wrote this after someone wrote a text post about the idea but idk if I would be able to track that down, or if it existed at all and I'm misremembering. Anyway, I didn't really have a set plot in mind after I wrote this short snippet other than it would be very funny for Shen Yuan to try and actively sabotague Shang Qinghua's efforts to become head disciple of An Ding while looking as innocent as possible. I don't think I'm going to write anymore for this idea as I have other wips I want to focus on but feel free anyone to write out their own interpretation! Anyways, here's what I wrote a few weeks back:
[ Activation code: “Dumbfuck author, dumbfuck novel.” System automatically triggered ]
What? What the fuck is this?
[ Host is in the midst of transmigration! ]
No—what? This is a dream, Airplane’s stupid fucking writing must have made me pass out!
Rrgh! I need to punch the fucker IRL!
[ Host would like to see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky? ]
YES!
[ Beginning transmigration… ]
What?
“Oh! It’s a boy!”
“W-Wait what? Doctor, didn’t you say it was going to be a girl?”
What the hell?
He feels himself get wrapped within a cloth, and suddenly he's enveloped in warmth. He’s being…held?
Any attempt to move his limbs is caught by the cloth wrapped around him. His tongue presses against toothless gums, and his vision is too blurry to make out anything.
No…
“Haha, well surprises always happen! Did you have a name in mind if you two had another son?”
“Ah, well I suppose we never gave any thought to it. A-Yu, you’re always good at coming up with names with your little stories, how about you name your little brother?”
No…
“You…ah, shouldn’t it be up to you two? Like erm. Tradition or something? Like this is a whole baby I sh-shouldn’t be responsible for the name he’ll be called for the rest of his life!”
A woman then laughs above him,
“A-Yu, I think I’m much too tired to think right now. You’re a smart boy, any name you come up with I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”
He…died.
Transmigration’s real!?
AND HE’S A BABY!
Oh—whoever this person is, please don’t name him something stupid.
[ Don’t worry Host! This System has you covered! ]
“…Yuan?” Whoever “A-Yu” is, he said that like he wasn’t even sure of it himself! Thank god he still has his old name in this life at least.
“Shang Yuan…I like that.”
System…where have I transmigrated?
[ This System operates in line with the design concept “YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB”; we hope to provide you with the best possible experience. It is our sincere wish that during your time, you can fulfill your desires and, in accordance to your wish, ‘see Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky’ ]
[ Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! ]
What now?!
[ User has completed his wish! ]
I…did?
[ Entering Limited Sandbox Mode! Feel free to explore within the constraints of the plot! ]
[ We hope you enjoy the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way! ]
WHAT?
“Ah! He’s crying, give him here.”
“Ahh. You’re so cute lil bro! Cutest baby in the whole wide world!”
A-Yu, or Shang Hongyu, is his new older brother in this life and is maybe eight or nine years older than him. He’s apparently very smart for his age, and their parents are already tutoring him to take over their father’s business.
He hears his older brother sniffle,
“Too bad you’ll probably never see me again in a few years.” he says, “I’ve gotta head to Cang Qiong and make my way up An Ding in the next few years.”
Hold on a second.
His older brother holds him tight against his chest, and from here he can feel his breath shudder.
“I’ve never had a sibling by blood before.”
He’s brought to his sibling’s bed and his brother lays next to him lazily.
“Just a few more years and you guys won’t have to see me again.” his brother says to noone, “They’re…surprisingly good parents, didi. Once they don’t have me to worry about, they can spoil you as much as you want.”
Geez, what kind of weird complex do you have?
Though. Shang surely is a common surname right? Lots of Shangs to go to An Ding!
System where in the timeline are we?
[ System is currently in maintenance for future updates! ]
Fine. He’ll figure it out his own way!
His own chubby fingers are able to grab onto his brother’s robe.
“Gege.” He says, to the best of his ability with his shitty little baby mouth.
He doesn’t expect his brother to burst out crying and start to hug him tight.
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Things I think the fandom just willfully ignores or has no idea about that would be super easy to slip into your fanfiction if you want to be inclusive and try out new things.
Lucifer just likes shibari, nawajutsu, or some form of rope tying art, and there's nothing inherently sexual about the excitement it brings him. He's a sadist too, but attraction to the other party would only add to the experience, not be necessary or a byproduct.
Belphegor could age regress and nobody would really be the wiser because of his position as coddled/spoiled youngest child. Even if they were, it doesn't change anything, really.
Beelzebub can fuck. He's also a cannibal. Do I need to say the vore word for you to understand how underutilized food/gore as a love language would be with him? No, it doesn't need to be sexual either, but goddamn so many keep treating him like UwU baby when he kills demons in cold blood because he hungy
Asmodeus is any gender or sexuality you want him to be. Lust ≠ attraction, and you can make him asexual. He's pretty free with how he presents. Also, his fans are so desperate for nice content on him that they'll take anything too. Nobody is going to kill you over this.
Mammon's greed can also be depicted as someone who wants to monopolize your time and/or affections. He attempts plenty of times in canon.
Barbatos' strongest attachment is Diavolo, but he does care about other beings. As long as they're not getting in the way of Diavolo, he's allowed to show care in his own way goddamnit. He's not an ice statue.
Mammon is allowed to be a non-sexual masochist. I don't know why people think all kinks are sexual, BUT HE'S ALLOWED.
I just want to take a moment to acknowledge bloodlust counting as a lust.
Luke is a genuinely deep character with a compelling story and important appearances, and you will be doing better than 99% of the fandom if you just acknowledge that he's more than just a kid who tags along and whines when he's scared (like all kids do when they're his age btw). Kicking him to the side is just another child discrimination case, and you can just say you don't understand him...
Almost everyone if not everyone has had a 1-on-1 in this series, and you're allowed to write about that scenario that "seems ooc" because there's someone out there who wishes that they could write who wants to see them interact, and they haven't found you because you haven't made yourself known.
I think over 75% of the cast has what humans would call a trauma disorder, and you guys have got to stop ignoring the fact that Solmare usually just brushes over stuff that genuinely affects them to keep the plot going. They've done it since the beginning, even before the cursed lesson 16.
Non-character-specific stuff under the cut:
You can headcanon and write any character that you want to as aromantic or on the spectrum. Also, news flash: familial, platonic, romantic, and sexual are not the only relationship labels to exist. Go look up "alterous attraction" if you wanna do something that would line up with, you know, emotions that aren't all centered around how our society depicts stuff.
If they're all built like that and inherently different from humans, neurodivergence may not exist to demons but have fun with the headcanons anyways. The world is your oyster.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me lucifer#obey me belphegor#obey me beelzebub#obey me asmodeus#obey me mammon#obey me barbatos#obey me luke#obey me nightbringer#obey me diavolo#idek if i tagged properly#obey me headcanons#obey me satan#obey me leviathan#mirr's rambles#me praying I won't be burned at the stake part ∞#i missed some people so just gimme a message or sum if you want more random things that come to me#I can't believe i thought my special interest was dead to me
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Hello!! If it's not too much to ask, can you write a cookie run kingdom au where y/n is a traveler? I just think that's the most logical way to somehow get them involved into stories and meet different cookies altogether. Maybe a few scenarios in which involve their encounters with the ancients before the main plot of crk?
A cookie stood with his sheep, observing the lands before him in silence as the winds howled and blew beside him. He was making his last few preparations before his journey, but as he turned around, he saw an unfamiliar face that appeared to be in awe of the lands much like he was…
“Oh, pardon me, but I’ve never seen a cookie like you before. You look so incredibly well and unbothered, may I ask if you have a secret to keeping your dough so healthy?”
“Oh, me? Hehe, I don’t think I have any ‘secret’ to my healthy or anything like that. I’m simply a traveler wandering Earthbread.”
“Really? So am I! I’ll be taking a pilgrimage to the Sugar-Free Road, and complete its 12 trials. What about you, where are you headed?”
“Wherever the earth and winds take me, I suppose. I don’t have a destination in mind, per se, but I’m so interested in exploring the marvelous depths across every corner of Earthbread! But, if you don’t mind me asking, what makes you want to venture to the Sugar-Free Road alone? Surely those trials can’t be the only reason.”
“You sound like you’ve been there before, is there something I should be aware of before I go?”
“Yeah, maybe don’t go by yourself. It’s a treacherous path that’ll leave you wishing you never went. I myself turned back when I was there because of how worn out I was. I would want to go back sometime, especially since I feel more accustomed to traveling to do so, but doing so alone is not something I’m doing again.”
“I see…well to answer your question, I strive to find the truth as to why cookies - those crumbling, incomplete, and not-so-sweet - all must suffer so. I wish for all beings of dough to be happy, and that is I will accept those trials. Hopefully I’ll find the answers I’m looking for at the end of the path.”
“That’s…that’s actually really nice! I respect that a lot, and I kinda feel the same way; wanting everyone to not suffer. But you won’t do well by yourself, would you mind if I tag along?”
“Really? Are you sure my goals won’t get in the way of yours?”
“Nah, of course not! You get to complete the trials and, hopefully, find your answers, while I get to see everything of the Sugar-Free Road and document it! Plus, I get to make a new friend too!”
“New friend..? Ahaha, I’m honored to call you friend too! My name is Pure Vanilla Cookie, and you are?”
“Y/N Cookie, a pleasure to meet ya Pure Vanilla Cookie!”
“Likewise, Y/N Cookie. I’m glad we’ll take this journey together!”
————————————————————————
The screeching roar of a dragon fills the air as it gradually got more distant. The dragon’s pursuer was aggravated, but still determined…
“Huff…huff…darn that dragon getting away, again!! I think I’m starting to loose count, is this the 80th time? No, it can’t have been that much…..argghh—! No matter, I’ll keep hunting it down and—!”
The bushes ahead of Hollyberry Cookie rustle as an astonished cookie stepped out, and looked to the sky where the dragon flew off. They were completely in awe and wanted to get a better look at the majestic creature.
“Woah!! Was that a dragon just now? I’ve seen glimpses of them on my travels, but that one was so close!! This could be a chance to really meet a dragon, maybe even feel its scales!! Hahaha, I gotta go now and—“
“Hey, hold it right there!”
“Huh? Oh, hey there! Are you after the dragon too?”
“That’s one way to put it; I’m hunting that dragon. I need to defeat it for the trouble its caused the Hollyberry Kingdom!”
“Oh my, I had no idea. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s quite alright, that dragon won’t escape me so easily! But, what brings you out here? And why do you want to see that dragon?”
“Ah, well I’m a traveler, you see? I want to explore every neat corner of Earthbread and all the specialties in between!”
“Really now? Interesting, it’s been awhile since I’ve met such an adventurous cookie like myself! I’m Hollyberry Cookie, pleased to meet you friend!”
“Y/N Cookie, the pleasure is all mine Hollyberry Cookie!”
“Well Y/N Cookie, what do you say we go hunting this dragon together? It’s always more fun to travel with a partner, and I’ll promise you to see every bit of the dragon up close!”
“For real?! Awesome!! Ohohoho, this is gonna be fun, I can’t wait to go!”
“Why don’t you tell me about your travels on the way? I’ll, of course, share you many of my own! I’ll even treat you to the finest berry juice my kingdom has to offer when it’s over!”
“Why thank you! I’ve never had berry juice from the Hollyberry Kingdom before, I can’t wait!!”
“It will be the finest you’ve ever had, you wouldn’t want any other! This is already becoming a fine adventure, hahaha!!”
————————————————————————
Black lightning and dark clouds...What's next, a blizzard that freezes your very breath? The scale of the anomalies is growing. The Cookies in the Frozen Snowfield are perishing one by one. While it seems logical for any cookie to avoid venturing out to such an extreme treacherous environment, two cookies were individually hiking up anyways. Although for their own reasons, their ambitions may align with one another’s….
“Hmm? Oh hey there, I wasn’t expecting any company here!”
“Neither was I…are you a cookie from one of villages affected by the blizzards?”
“Me? Oh no, I’m just a traveler passing by to witness something spectacular!! Here, listen closely—“
“Grrrrrr…..”
“Hhrrrrrraaaaaahh…..”
“The growls of not one, but two dragons-in one place!! I wonder what it is here that could’ve brought them here; ooohh I’ve got to see them up close!”
“You’re here for…sightseeing dragons? How strange.”
“You sound disappointed, is everything alright bud?”
“No. I am here to know more of the weather anomalies occurring through this continent. This harsh weather has caused cookies to suffer and crumble, and I refuse to let it endure another minute.”
“Oh my, I had no idea that was happening. I’m so sorry…”
“Pick your head up, you have nothing to apologize for.”
“Ah, r-right. *ahem*…let me help you.”
“What? No, I’m afraid I can’t. These cookies have suffered for too long, and I can’t risk another getting in the way and—“
“I promise I won’t get in your way. I’ll help aid those cookies with you; I have plenty of supplies to offer some kind of help, be it food or water or anything in between.”
“Hmm…very well then. I believe our interests might be more in common than I realize. Let’s not waste any more time and be on our way.”
“Of course! I’m Y/N Cookie, by the way, pleasure to meet you sir.”
“Dark Cacao Cookie, don’t mention it. Let us do our absolute best for the cookies!”
————————————————————————
Under the intense, near-intolerable heat of the desert sun, two cookies traverse the sands bearing wide smiles of determination. Both hold their own greedy ambitions, yet aren’t driven apart by each other’s desires.
“Hah, you know, I’m still amazed as to why you’re traveling with me to the old ruins. I was wandering the desert to find this marvelous treasure, but you just want to look at them, document them, and that’s it! Why go through such risks if all you want to do is go sight seeing?”
“Hehe, well I guess you could say that’s the treasure I’m hunting for. To see all the wonders of Earthbread, its beauties in its dangers, the uniqueness of every continent, I want to capture all of it and learn everything about it! Plus, it’s super fun to meet all kinds of desserts along the way, especially one as dynamic as you!”
“So interesting, you almost make me want to share the treasure I find with you; almost, of course.”
“I don’t blame you, heh. You wandered all this way for it, it’s only fair that it all belongs to you.”
“Right? I would’ve heard if someone on Earthbread had laid their hands on it first. But then again…I want to show my gratitude for your help. This journey would’ve been boring and perhaps fruitless if not for you; what is your name?”
“Y/N Cookie, a pleasure!”
“Y/N Cookie, I am Golden Cheese Cookie. I shall never forget all you’ve done for me! Your greed for the world is something to admire for eons; nearly as great as my greed for my treasure. You and I together shall be legendary!”
————————————————————————
Somewhere, in a secluded area relatively distant from the nearest cookie civilization, a lone cookie was weeping as she was suffering from a nightmare. A passerby cookie heard her cries, and wanted to know what troubled her so…
“E-Excuse me, hello? Are you okay ma’am?”
“I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I… Oh…it was that same dream again. I’m sorry, I didn’t know another cookie was here…”
“No no, it’s alright, you didn’t bother me. I was just traveling by, venturing out to find some incredible things about Earthbread!”
“You were…traveling? Just freely and…eagerly going about across Earthbread alone? …..why?”
“Ehehe, I suppose why not? There’s so many incredible marvels about this world that I wanna see and experience for myself! There’s just so many things and secrets that I want to know about, how could I not be eager to see it all, ahaha!”
“….s-so carefree and curious…they’re just—“
“Hmm, you say something?”
“N-no, I was just muttering to myself…”
“….Hey, you hungry?”
“What? How’d you…—“
“You have crumbs falling from your hands, how long have you been without something to eat?”
“I…I do not know. I suppose it’s been a while since I’ve eaten something. Maybe I’m getting too lost in my thoughts…”
You pulled out a lot of food from your bags and laid it out in front of the cookie.
“T-that’s so much food! Shouldn’t you keep some for yourself if you’re traveling?”
“I got plenty more, don’t you worry. But if you were here resting from traveling, then it looks like you weren’t fully prepared. Is there any reason why you’re traveling out here?”
“Yes…I want to know the truth.”
“….the truth about, what?”
“Why were we, the cookies, created? Why were we brought into this world? Why were we created so small and fragile? If only all cookies were born strong, unbreakable. If only then…I…”
“Shhh, calm down, alright? Take a break for now, eat up. You can tell me more when we’re back out on the road.”
“I-we?! What do you mean, ‘we?’ I’d get in your way with whatever it is you’re after.”
“I’m not after anything in particular, remember? I wanna traverse and see all of Earthbread, and from the sounds of what answers you’re after, it seems like we may be going down similar paths.”
“….Perhaps you’re right. Okay then, I’ll go with you, to find the answers I’m seeking. …Who are you, exactly…?”
“I’m Y/N Cookie!”
“I’m White Lily Cookie. I’m…thankful for you, Y/N Cookie. I never thought I’d have anyone to help me with this, I figured I’d just burden someone else with my struggles…”
“Don’t mention it, I’m perfectly fine with it! No one should really be alone for a long journey; especially for the one you want to take. I’m more than happy to go with you, White Lily Cookie.”
“Thank you, Y/N Cookie…I will never forget your kindness.”
#cookie run kingdom#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookie run x reader#cr kingdom#crk#pure vanilla cookie x reader#pure vanilla cookie#pure vanilla crk#hollyberry cookie x reader#hollyberry cookie#hollyberry crk#dark cacao cookie x reader#dark cacao cookie#dark cacao crk#golden cheese cookie x reader#golden cheese cookie#golden cheese crk#white lily cookie x reader#white lily cookie#white lily crk
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thoughts on charlie learning how to read?
As to the effect, I think we’ll have to wait to see what really comes of it, considering the very final joke of the episode is he thinks “guest” on the scoreboard says “ghost,” they definitely made a point to make it clear he’s not necessarily literate by any means beyond “enough to graduate kindergarten”
I do like what Justin and Patrick, the EPs for Abbott said about the longevity of that establishment:
In the end, it’s definitely what Sunny and Charlie Day decide to do with this canon. We know the Abbott ep was filmed before any of the episodes for Season 17 of Sunny, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility that they do stick with the idea that Charlie doesn’t struggle as much with reading and writing and maybe has a little kick in him to keep practicing.
Personally on the existence of the storyline now incorporated into Sunny canon, I think they did it in such a fantastic way it’s hard for me to argue anything against or say anything negative. I loved watching it. The thing I love about Abbott is the heart they have in the stories and how real a lot of what they address and tackle in childhood-into-adult development is, and you feel that here, for sure. And we’re watching Abbott, not Sunny, so it’s something removed from the purgatory of the bar.
For those of us that know and love Charlie, I think it’s hard to not feel soft toward this idea that (even if it doesn’t stick or it’s so so basic) there really truly are ways for the Gang to develop and improve on their faults/stubbornness to change, provided it’s treated the right way. And that can only be done (and maybe only continue) in a completely different environment, like Abbott.
The tragedy of Sunny and the Gang is that they’ll never treat each other in that way and therefore can rarely develop. It’s not that they don’t necessarily care, but that their communication methods are so crude and fulled by (often trauma-born) selfishness, they can never give each other the support needed to help improve each other. They make each other miserable in most cases, but they’re also content with that because they almost equally inflict what they take on....
Though Sunny isn't all complete misery, as we all know. They do love each other in fucked up ways and (maybe) almost wish they could help each other in certain respects. Mac's support and encouragement of Charlie being able to read is evident in many Sunny episodes, so it really warmed my heart that Charlie was so eager to show Mac how he had learned and could do a more difficult part of the book for him :) In my opinion, they kept it well aligned with Sunny canon. The Gang don't have the tools to teach Charlie to read, but they do all support and even partly enjoy him learning if they don't have to do it themselves.
I think what we see of Charlie in the Sunny episode will be interesting. Since he's the A plot in Abbott, I have to imagine he has a minor role in Sunny, but will certainly be present. If the idea here is that everyone other than Dennis is serving to distract the teachers, and Charlie only learned to read for the week and goes back to his baseline state of illiteracy, I think I would accept that too.
The lasting effect of the plot doesn't matter too much to me. I think instead the idea that, in the right environment, Charlie can learn to read (and even gets some sense of pride and excitement out of being able to read) but Paddy's and the Gang are really what hinder him from being able to do so (despite the Gang not necessarily against the idea, and considering the fact that Charlie contributes to and prefers the environment they've created) reinforces the Sunny that we hold dear.
#sorry if this reads like a jumble my brain is all over the place#i hope this makes sense#i will flesh this out further once we get the sunny half of the crossover#cos who knows what theyre gonna do there lol#but i do believe this was genuine for charlie#even if it was a distraction you can see he was proud :)#a gentle reminder that there are fractions of souls within those devils#charlie kelly#it's always sunny at abbott elementary#ask#charlie meta#17 spoilers#crossover spoilers
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Do The Damage. Part 2 // Dilf! Noel Gallagher X f!Reader (Smut).
prompt: Noel falling for a younger singer who isn’t famous yet and is just starting out, so he guides her like a tutor to boost her career and help her gain more attention. But would this bond remain purely professional? (Involves smut, with the potential to escalate over time and features an age gap.)
Here's Part 1!!!
words: 5,7k.
a/n: It's supposed to be 4 parts, it doesn't have a grand plot, I just wanted to write about this topic. I hope you like it! (and pls use a condom, this is just a fanfic)
Your curious eyes wandered around the vast studio.
“For now, yes, but later there’ll be more people,” Noel replied, noticing your curiosity.
You nodded, hands tucked into the pockets of your dress. LA was unbearably hot, and he was practically freezing you with the air conditioning. He had shown you every corner of the studio, and by now, you felt fairly comfortable. Guitars adorned the walls, along with basses and a drum set from one of those impossibly expensive brands. You stood in front of him, looking a bit like a lost child, genuinely waiting to be told what to do next.
It took him a moment, but he realized your discomfort.
“Alright, I probably didn’t plan this out too well,” he admitted with a soft laugh. Noel had this way of laughing—never showing his teeth, always restrained—yet it still carried an effort to make you feel welcome. He mentioned having read through the songs you sent, even though he had already listened to them before. Now, he said, he knew the exact lyrics. You were both eager and terrified to know his exact thoughts about your work.
“Is it okay if I use the equipment?” you asked, your fingers lightly brushing one of the microphones as you picked up the headphones, waiting for his approval. Everything about this was new, and you wanted to immerse yourself in every detail.
“Feel free to use whatever you want, little’un.”
Your cheeks flushed at his words, and you bit the inside of your lip to ground yourself. You glanced at the buttons; they were a mystery to you—just rows of switches without any labels that made sense. Noel seemed to forget that all of this was second nature only to him.
“Alright, let’s start by getting you familiar with everything. Once you’re comfortable, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
It sounded like a good idea.
Time flew by. What felt like mere minutes had actually been hours. Occasionally, the two of you would lapse into silence, but it was never awkward. He had a soothing voice, explaining things as if they weren’t obvious, allowing you to visualize every step. You liked the way he talked.
His hair was longer than the last time you had seen him, the dark strands now interspersed with gray and brushing the tops of his ears. The piercing blue of his eyes shone brightly as he spoke and gestured. He wore a dark button-up shirt, which made little sense given the LA heat, but he looked undeniably good in darker colors. The shirt failed to fully conceal the hair on his chest, which peeked out just enough to be distracting.
“This is pretty heavy, Noel,” you said as he handed you a red guitar with his last name etched into its side. It was clearly well-used, with the wear and tear of countless gigs, but it was still beautiful. Noel seemed amused by the way you pronounced his name, your accent stretching the vowels slightly, like it was meant for you to say it that way. That could be your thing, he wouldn't dare to correct it, he even hoped to hear it again.
The guitars you had played before were lighter, simpler, and less durable.
“You can play it if you want. It’s good to get used to a specific guitar early on.”
You listened, feeling an odd warmth in your chest as you wished he would call you “little one” again. You adjusted the strap, your gaze falling to the floor.
“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted softly, your fingers pressing down on the strings without producing any sound.
He nodded, as if he actually understood.
“What don’t you know, little’un?” he asked softly, his expression calm, as though it never crossed his mind that you could be anything less than genuine. His body was behind yours, close enough that you could feel your heart pounding, and you were sure he could hear it. He reached over, placing his hand on the guitar’s neck and gently adjusting a few strings.
The truth was simple: you hummed melodies, your friends figured out the notes, and then you carried them with you.
“I only know my songs,” you admitted, hesitating. “There aren’t many, and I memorized them with the help of some friends at the pub.” The words felt clumsy as they left your mouth. Without realizing it, you took a step back, bumping into Noel’s solid chest. His hands found your waist instinctively, steadying you. He smelled familiar, and his touch was just as cool and soft as you remembered.
"There’s nowt wrong wi' that. No one’s born knowin’.” he said, his voice low and sure, as though speaking directly into your ear. “I’ve learned a lot since the first album; we can work on this if you’d like.”
His breath brushed your skin as he spoke, dangerously close. “Want to try something?” he asked, strumming a short segment of one of your songs. He had memorized the chords—he’d listened to it that much. It felt odd, but you let it go, too focused on steadying your own breathing.
“I’m not sure...” Your voice faltered, and he laughed softly—a nasal, warm sound. His shirt brushed against your bare arms as he shifted closer.
Taking your hands in his, he guided your fingers, demonstrating each press of the strings and the sounds they produced. The simplicity of the act caught you off guard; your mind felt blank as you followed his movements. His hands were strong yet gentle, his fingers adorned with rings that you couldn’t help but notice. You fixated on the way his skin moved against yours, completely distracted.
“This isn’t sounding right,” you said impulsively, turning your face toward him. His eyes, which had been focused on your hands, now met yours, and the proximity was overwhelming. You immediately looked down, feeling vulnerable, and he noticed your hesitance.
“But it will. Trust me, yeah?” His smile was reassuring, revealing slightly crooked lower teeth and the faint lines of age around his eyes. His thumb grazed the bridge of your nose absentmindedly, a fleeting moment of intimacy that made his cheeks flush. He quickly pulled back, brushing his hand over his own face as if the action had been too much.
God, he was something.
“You’re doing well, tiny one,” he murmured, his tone encouraging. “You just need to relax and give it more time.”
Your fingers ached, and you instinctively pulled your hands back. “You trust me a lot,” you said softly.
He noticed the faint bruising on the tips of your fingers, the start of a superficial cut—nothing unusual for someone unused to playing. His gaze softened as he pressed the edge of his shirt to your hand, stopping the bleeding.
“Shouldn’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Trust yourself, I mean. So far, I haven’t seen anything in you that doesn’t show how good you are at this...” His words trailed off, slightly disjointed, but you found yourself wishing he’d talk about you like that more often.
Noel made a mental note of your cold hands and the way your short, thin clothing seemed to betray the studio’s chill. He pressed your hand one last time as if silently resolving to make sure you were warm and comfortable next time.
…
In the days that followed, before heading back to the hotel, Noel suggested the two of you go out to eat—a way to spend more time talking. His suggestion seemed casual, but beneath it was a genuine effort to do something meaningful for you. He worried about repeating the mistakes he’d made early in Oasis, afraid of being a bad influence or overwhelming you. At the same time, he simply wanted to be around you. Both feelings were true.
Since you’d spent hours at the studio, and he hadn’t thought to offer you a proper meal, he picked a relaxed spot. It had the feel of the pubs you performed in—live music and warm, dim lighting.
When you arrived, a chill brushed against your arms. Noel chuckled, noticing. You hadn’t seen him carrying a jacket, but he swiftly draped one over your shoulders, his gaze thoughtful over you. The weight of it was reassuring.
“I can control the studio’s temperature, but most places here are air-conditioned. You’ll end up freezing,” he said. You didn’t respond, too preoccupied with wondering whether he’d always have a jacket for you—these oversized, cozy layers that swallowed you whole. You liked the way his scent clung to the fabric and hated that your thoughts weren’t as innocent as they should have been.
Sitting across from him, there was nothing to distract you. The moment felt unguarded, almost daunting. He had loosened a few buttons because of the heat, and the soft collar rested against his rosy skin, his neck chain catching faintly in the light. His eyes, unwavering, were on you, and you felt your stomach flutter.
Your foot brushed against his under the table. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but neither of you moved. His posture was relaxed as always, his deep, nasal breaths calming despite the quiet tension in the air. Eventually, your foot settled against his calf, taking in the warmth of him.
“What’s that smell?” he asked, breaking the silence, motioning toward the pink tube of moisturizer in your hand.
“Peach,” you said, your voice betraying a small note of excitement. You wanted to talk more but worried that beyond music, you might not be interesting enough for him.
“It’s nice. It makes me feel less tense,” you admitted. He let you take his hand in yours.
His hands were larger, rougher—calloused in a way yours should have been. You applied a small drop of cream, carefully massaging the hardened patches and tracing the prominent veins. Your nails grazed his wrist lightly, eliciting a pleasant tickle. It felt like an eternity, but neither of you rushed the moment.
You smoothed out the creases in his shirt next, your hands brushing against his wrist as you rebuttoned it. You folded the cuffs to what you assumed he’d consider the perfect height. When you looked up, his jacket was still draped over your shoulders, your smile faint but content. He noticed how the strap of your dress sat slightly askew but didn’t say anything. Instead, you adjusted it yourself, catching his gaze in the process.
Noel shifted uncomfortably, silently berating himself for the thoughts creeping into his mind. But as much as he resented the pull he felt, he couldn’t ignore how real it all seemed.
When you finished, you noticed he was watching you intently. You smiled a bit more openly this time, and his eyes softened, as though they were smiling back. The silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty—it was full of things neither of you dared to say aloud.
The food arrived shortly after. Noel whispered a quiet “thank you” as you pulled his jacket closer around yourself. He hoped it would carry your scent by the end of the night.
The atmosphere remained easy, the unspoken comfort between you palpable. Noel wasn’t particularly hungry, but watching the way your eyes lit up with every bite and how your smile widened unknowingly made him savor his meal. You made him feel good—better than he had in a long time. Everything else in his life was chaos, except for you.
It had only been a week, but he already felt like he did back in school when he had a crush—looking forward to seeing someone so much it made the days worthwhile. He found himself wanting to avoid trouble, if only to be in a better place whenever he saw you.
At one point, he gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, clearing away a small smudge. You watched him, reflexively brushing the same spot with your hand afterward. For a fleeting moment, Noel considered bringing his thumb to his lips, but he stopped himself, knowing it would feel too weighted. Instead, he wiped it with a napkin, hesitating to apologize lest it make things awkward.
You didn’t seem to mind. Your cheeks were flushed, and the tingling sensation of his touch stayed on your skin. It wasn’t a mistake—you liked it. And as he sat there across from you, watching your expression under the dim light, Noel knew he did too.
…
"Do you need sunscreen? I didn’t see you apply any yet," you asked, preparing your second layer while Noel hadn’t bothered with any. "How disgraceful, Noel. You hardly seem like an older man." He rolled his eyes at your teasing. Until the rest of the team arrived to record your songs, he kept you busy like that, and also by repeating vocal exercises and practicing breathing. It was embarrassing, but hearing him say, "You're doing great, darling. Let’s try one more time, but you’re getting it right," never failed to make you feel both comforted and eager to hug him.
In the coming weeks, you’d be performing together, singing some of his songs as a guest. Nothing had been rehearsed yet, but the thought alone tied a knot of anxiety in your throat. Sharing the stage with him felt unimaginable, especially since you weren’t used to large audiences.
The wind tousled his hair, and his carefree expression was oddly reassuring. You handed him a bit of sunscreen, but his clumsy attempts to apply it made you laugh. "Alright, Noely, let me handle this." Your cool fingertips touched his face as you removed his sunglasses. The scent of peach lingered in the air as you smoothed the cream over his skin, feeling the roughness of his beard under your hands. Noel closed his eyes, letting himself relax–not that he could much.
Tracing the bridge of his nose with your thumb, you made him sigh, his lips parting slightly. For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow. Stepping back, you finished applying the sunscreen to his shoulders. Even though you wanted to, you didn't go any lower than that, letting him continue on his own.
When his hands moved across your back in return, his warm touch calmed you. Noel’s thoughts wandered, struggling against the pull of desires he knew he shouldn’t entertain. But something about the peaceful way you smiled, eyes closed, made every barrier he’d built feel meaningless.
Gently moving the strap of your bikini aside to cover your skin, he found himself tempted to press his lips to the curve of your neck, imagining how your breath would hitch at the touch. He shouldn’t want this—he knew it. But in that quiet moment, with you so serene and trusting, resisting felt impossible. You were there, unguarded, as though he was your safe haven. And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to be.
“Wait a min," you murmured, your voice soft and drawn out, a lazy whisper. Your fingers, light and unsure, fumbled with his as you untied the bikini string, letting it fall away to expose more of your skin–not in a provocative way, but enough to stir something unspoken. His gaze lingered, heavy and unreadable, though he kept his expression neutral.
Careful not to overstep, Noel began rubbing sunscreen over the newly revealed area, his touch slow and deliberate as he worked down toward your waist, barely brushing your hips. Your skin felt impossibly soft beneath his hands, as if it might break with the slightest misstep. With a final, almost reverent squeeze, he let his hand fall away, your body responding with a subtle shiver at the loss of contact and a faint murmur escaping your lips.
Sitting back, Noel noticed how still you were, your head nestled closer to the makeshift pillow of your towel. A quiet chuckle slipped from him as he realized why–you had drifted off, the process taking longer than either of you had anticipated. For a moment, he allowed himself to watch you, his heart caught between tenderness and restraint.
…
The unfolding of the night felt like the complete opposite of the calm that had settled in you earlier. Your chest was heavy, overwhelmed by a sudden realization of just how famous he was. His button-down shirt still smelled like him, and all you could recall was being pressed against his chest as he carefully guided you to a quieter spot. His fingers had gripped your skin, his gaze grounding, and the relieved words, "I think no one saw us," still echoed in your mind, leaving you shaken.
He hadn’t acted on impulse—there were groups of men looking for him, girls with cameras, and he had made it clear that it was important not to be seen with you. It was terrifying in every sense, but what struck you most was the new ache in your chest, knowing he didn’t want to be seen with you.
"I know this happened because you’re well-known," you said, swallowing hard as you struggled to find the right words. Noel knelt in front of you, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t entirely sure how to fix this, but he hoped his presence was enough to offer some comfort. His touch felt right; an unspoken attempt to reassure you, though the proximity unsettled him in ways he couldn’t quite name. Still, given the circumstances, it felt like the right thing to do.
“I’m really sorry, truly. This was careless of me," he apologized, his voice soft but genuine.
You shook your head, your hands gently cupping his face as you pushed his hair back. His deep blue eyes met yours, filled with concern. You were on the verge of tears, and the weight of it all made him uneasy. He wasn’t sure he fully understood your feelings, but they pierced him nonetheless.
"Noel, I might sound stupid, but—" you hesitated. Before you could finish, he pulled you in, his arms wrapping around you with tenderness. Your legs circled his waist as you held onto him tightly. He stroked your hair, surrendering to the closeness, knowing he had never been this intimate with you before—and it was better than he’d ever imagined.
"If they like me, which I really hope they do—you know, with the songs, working with you, and all the pre-album promotion as an artist..." you trailed off, pausing to gather your thoughts. "I don’t want to sound ungrateful. This whole journey with you has been incredible, but... will it be normal?"
You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, which made it easier to speak freely without the weight of embarrassment. Noel listened, his mind racing. He hadn’t thought about it like this before—how exposed you’d become to a part of his world he disliked himself. And the truth was, simply avoiding being seen together wouldn’t fix it. Soon, you would be just as much in the public eye as he was.
His tongue rested against the roof of his mouth as your fingers found their place at the nape of his neck, gently tugging at the fine hairs there–much like the way you fidget with the hem of your shirt when you're anxious. It soothed you. Your gaze dropped to his chest, and it hit you that this was the first time you'd held him for so long. He wore a light shirt, but after having seen him without it, the fabric somehow felt far less concealing. You liked everything about this–the warmth radiating from him and the unobstructed view of him in this moment.
He tugged gently at the collar of your shirt, pulling your face closer until his breath danced across your skin. When your eyes met his, you saw no attempt to mask his intent–he was staring straight into your soul. You were beautiful, even now, with red-rimmed eyes and tear-streaked cheeks. Understanding the turmoil inside you, he let you whisper through the haze of your emotions, "I can't mess this up.”
His focus didn't waver. Though every part of him wanted to pull you closer, he held back, patiently waiting for you to continue. "I want this too. I just... I don't want you to think less of me, okay?" Tears threatened to spill again. As you instinctively tried to lower your head, he gently tilted your chin back up, fully grasping the weight of what you were trying to express.
"I don't want you to think I'm doing this just because I'm interested in you. I don't want you to see me as..." You hesitated, searching for the right words. Instead of pressuring you, he pressed his forehead lightly against yours, cradling your face in his hands with a tenderness that disarmed you.
"I don't think anything bad about you, uh?" he said softly, unwavering but gentle. "I've never thought that way. These are just your worries, you got me? Nothing's gonna change the fact that I think you're talented and competent. That has nothing to do with how I see you as a professional. You don't have to be afraid of that."
His voice was firm, louder than usual, the roughness in his tone just right. Each word sank in, steadying you as you listened. He swallowed hard, his lips slightly parted, and you couldn't help but notice how patient he was, how perfectly he seemed to understand that you needed this moment to gather yourself. Your fingers tightened around his, and then, finally, your lips found his.
The kiss was slow, tentative. Though you felt self-conscious, unsure of yourself, it was warm, grounding. He pulled you closer, your body naturally molding against his as if you belonged there.
When you began to pull back, a flicker of doubt creeping in, his hand caught the collar of your shirt again, pulling you back into a deeper, more urgent kiss. The gesture made it clear–he had been waiting for this far too long to let you retreat now. As you leaned back slightly, he held you firmly, sensing how you were beginning to soften against him.
He chuckled into the kiss, his breath against your skin. His tongue brushed yours, the movements slow and deliberate, every kiss lingering as if he wanted to savor each second. The taste was salty–a mix of your tears and the sea–and you couldn't help but laugh softly at the thought of him being "seasoned.”
Your hand reached up to brush the hair from his face, and you took in the sight of him. His cheeks were flushed, his lips swollen, and his beard scratched gently against your skin, a sensation you hadn't fully processed until now. You wanted more, and for the first time, you didn't feel the need to hold back.
"You're beautiful," he said softly. You nodded, your lashes fluttering in a way that made him wonder if it was his words or his voice causing it. Either way, he was determined to keep seeing that reaction.
He ran his calloused fingers along up the curve of your thigh, stopping just at the edge, giving your hips a firm squeeze. Your nails dug into his shoulders in anticipation as your legs parted briefly, giving him better access and also making the fabric of your shirt give him a better view. The bottom of your bikini clung tightly to your skin, leaving faint indentations where the fabric pressed. His lungs filled with heavy air, as did his mouth with saliva, and he kissed the spot with a light bite.
He didn't need to ask, soon your back was against the sheets. You weren't scandalous to his ears, but something about it made you more noticeable, your breathing loud and prolonged. He undid the ties, brushing the rings on the sides, and revealing your flesh little by little. He moved one of your hands that were on your belly away and kissed the spot before looking at you. He wanted so much for this to be comfortable for you.
"Y’alright there, little’un?” Your eyes were teary, and he had barely touched you. You nodded, a simple noise of agreement. Your attention was his, your fingers entering his hair in a caress that made him close his eyes, resting his chin on your skin.
He dragged his face, soaking in your sounds, as the texture of his newly grown beard took hold of your exposure.
He chuckled, his nose touching your center, just enjoying how your fingers tightened in his hair to get him closer. This would take time, he was in no rush. He kissed your skin, groaning as he felt your taste on his tongue and realized how wet you were. His hands tightened around you, holding your hips and dragging them so that it would be better for him.
His body was warm, he pulled away slightly, touching his fingers to you and pushing them in just a little. Your legs moved back, but your only vision was of him leaning his head closer and sucking on his fingers right after, licking his red lips and swallowing cautiously.
"Yer proper good, yeah?" Your lips were a bit open, not knowing if that needed to be answered. It was a short pause, which felt like hours, but soon his eyes were closed and his tongue was firmly inside you.
When his fingers took their place inside you, the wet kisses started to be on your clit. His coordination was remarkable, worthy of what he did for a living. He pushed his fingers until they disappeared inside you, pulsated them in the right place thanks to your whimpering, until your legs tightened a little, and then he pulled them out completely wet and repeated it all over again. His tongue followed this rhythm, unerring, saliva joining with his fingers, your clit pulsating on his lips and he grunted with it as if giving you pleasure was something pleasurable for him.
"Noel," his name sounded like a plea. He had other plans, but your elongated vocals and honeyed voice made him lose himself there, his free hand caressing your belly and your hips trembling shyly against his face. He felt your cum build up on his fingertips and dripping down the corners of his mouth, with each gasp of yours, the more impossible it was to stop.
Your voice was more broken, it was possible to hear your throat scratching. Your eyes were closed, his fingers stuck in his hair, in a way that would certainly make him sore later, your thigh gradually stopped shaking and his muscles relaxed. Noel didn't leave, he just stayed close, with light kisses until it was over, even though your reaction was to rub yourself against him more, his nose brushing against you and his beard hurting you. When your eyes opened, meeting his, it still lasted a little longer until you had no other option but to stop because you felt too sensitive.
Nothing was said, it wasn't necessary. The crossed line already made things more tangible. He kissed your cheek, the salty taste leaving his chest warm. The corners of your eyes still overflowed, and he gently wiped them away. Your gaze followed him, his subtle smile still shining for you. There was a distinct difference from the other relationships you'd had before; you felt cherished there. He could have other relationships that weren't with you, but you were there.
"Do you want me to do something?" Your lack of action irritated you, but the awareness that he was older, had been through this countless times, and that everything had worked out so well from what you'd just seen, left you feeling insecure. You certainly didn't have many people to compare him to, and he did with you—though he wouldn't act on it…
He laughed, in a more sincere way, different from before. He was taking off his clothes, your attention distant yet present on him. His body was mature, the hair filling his chest fully and running down his stomach, he had a well-defined V of his abdomen, although he was not a muscular man. "God," he shook his head, kissing the side of your face.
He pulled the fabric of your shirt away, pressing his lips to your clavicle. Instinctively, you turned your face, giving him more space, allowing the kisses to trail upwards. Your fingers traced along his shoulders, then down his arm, only to rise again, lingering on his forearm before tightening around his neck in a hug.
"You’re proper tasty.” Your face nestled against his neck as he nibbled on your skin, making you laugh softly against him. He pulled you tighter, and you could feel every part of him–his warm body, the hairs sticking to your chest, mingling with the sweat between you and the weight between the legs touching you.
"You alright, love?” He pushed your hair away from your face, searching for an answer in your eyes, beyond just words. You nodded, letting his body fall onto yours, the comforting and precise weight settling perfectly.
Your button-down shirt was slightly open, still leaving room for imagination. He could see little of your cleavage, but that wasn't important, even so he sucked the exposed skin in a bite and released it slightly until a subtle mark was left. He adjusted himself, his forehead nearly touching yours, and your half-lidded eyes stayed fixed on him.
The wait was intentional, Noel didn't want to overwhelm you. Your gaze on him was as sensitive as your legs had been minutes ago, his patience more about not hurting you and making this more bearable. He watched your breathing return to normal, only for him to destroy it all over again. He felt sore, craving it so badly, but the whole vision was worth it.
Your nails dug into his back, and in total control, he filled you up. The air left his lungs in a rough grunt as your body was thrust forward by the impact, your hips meeting, and your eyes softly closing as everything fell into place. Your thighs tightened around him, but not so much that he couldn't move. The edges of your eyes started to water again, and he found this to be a new addiction of his.
"Yer can handle it.” The still bodies, the sweat and his voice working on you like anesthetics. He was waiting for you to get used to having him inside and you really needed it, you still felt sensitive, but you liked the sensation. “You're a big girl, right? You can handle it.” The crease between his brows deepened with every word, and there was something so satisfying about it.
Tears streamed down your face and he was attentive to your movements, being careful with you. The effect of his voice on you was very clear, with each syllable or compliment attributed. Your bodies dissolved into the sheets and soon the room was filled with wet noises and your pitiful grumbling.
"I’m ‘ere, ain’t I?” His hands on you, squeezing and pulling your body towards him were very firm, and although good, they would leave marks to be appreciated later. His face above yours was sweating a lot, in a way that made you want to lick it, the corners of his hair were damp and his cheeks and lips were red and you could feel him in your stomach. “I'm all yours, little’un.” His nose pressed against yours, and then his lips, the delicious sweat on your tongue, taking all your remaining breath.
His voice began to sound more distant, his sighs heavier as he went deeper into you following your fingers digging into his skin. You were so delicate beneath him, your movements moderate yet painful, so as not to disturb him, as if you expected to be punished otherwise.
He moved his hand down to your clit, pressing just enough to add to your desperation. His abdomen ached in a good way, your stomach clenching as your entire body wrapped tightly around his. His mouth went dry, and he watched you squirm, your legs suffocating him and your whimpering increasing.
He licked his lips, your body fragile and trembling before him, your little nod indicating for him to continue, not that you could take much. He didn't need much either, the wet noises were more intense, his hips more precise as you writhed and it wasn't long before you were being filled with warmth.
Still you moaned in disapproval as soon as he pulled out of you, he was careful, and you felt him slip out of you between your legs. Nothing was strange anymore, just intimate, in a way it shouldn't be. He then lay down next to you and you didn't know where you belonged or what to do.
Noticing your expression, he draped the sheet over your body. You nestled into his chest, burying your face there as if what had just happened was something insignificant. "I’m the one who should be hiding like this; I’m the old one ‘ere," he said, his tone light and teasing, trying to ease your shoulders. He could tell you were feeling shy.
"You’re good," you murmured, exhaustion settling in as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your back, grounding you to him.
"You’re good too, love," he replied, his eyes fixed on you—calm, unguarded, and without fear. You began to feel a chill crawl up your spine. Was this going to be a problem? He didn’t want to be seen with you, there was a noticeable age gap between you, and though you felt understood by him, you were convinced this was nothing more than a fleeting amusement for him. You told yourself you could handle it, enjoy the moment, but how would it feel to see him again in the coming days?
"I need to take this," he said, grabbing his phone, which you hadn’t even heard ring. Still, he stayed beside you, his calloused fingers exploring your skin with reverence, each touch gentle, as though memorizing you. He mentioned needing to meet someone—Gem, apparently, who had just arrived. Leaning in, he kissed your forehead, then the crown of your head, with tenderness that almost undid you.
"You can stay ‘ere if you want," he offered. "I just need to hand over the studio key to a friend. I’ll be back before you know it."
It was clear from the hesitation in his voice, even in the words he spoke on the phone, that he didn’t want to leave the bed. You nodded with a soft smile, and he kissed your shoulder one last time before reluctantly slipping away.
The question lingered: could you get used to this? Perhaps. But deep down, you knew he had no reason to nurture this.
#noel gallagher#noel gallagher x reader#noel gallagher smut#oasis x reader#noel gallagher x you#noel gallagher fanfic#oasis noel gallagher
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ooh, could you tell us more about your au where the whole silt gang ends up at the grace?
It's less "an AU" and more "excitable blathering in @nana-glass-chillhop-radio-hour's direction" but sure!
The inciting incident is fairly straightforward: Faulkner runs off to the Grace for plot-related reasons. Maybe the rout from Greve had long-reaching effects; maybe the new temple he sent Rane to build collapses in on itself; maybe he's just out of options, out of friends, and he can't go home to that empty place in the wastes. He has no one to protect him but the maybe-sort-of sister he very definitely turned his back on, who will let him in only with a small encyclopedia of caveats and a promise not to hurt her non-negotiable business associates.
The non-negotiable business associates in question (Paige, still mostly drunk; Hayward, running from his past fast enough to set records) are a little wary, but. Carpenter asked. There's not much they won't do if she asks.
And hey, maybe Rane sidles in along with him. The only one who calls him "Katabasian Faulkner"---at least, until Carpenter shuts that one down, hard. He's at the Grace on her sufferance, so he's assigned to something that will bring him into contact with the fewest people. Maybe chicken duty? It gives him lots of time for sulking.
This would be an incredibly fun setting for multiple reasons:
First, I wish we'd gotten more time at the Grace. I personally love intracommunity squabbling, especially when backed by theological/philosophical differences, and I wanted so, so much more time with "The Rootkeeper" and "The Widow" and also everybody's arguing about inerrancy and also somehow Carpenter is there.
I mean, really, it was fascinating the way that Hayward and Carpenter seemed to bloom---he had opinions on theological whitepapers, she grabbed terrible beers with Elgin, they both were chairing meetings and coming up with chore rotas...
Not to mention, more time at the Grace would mean that Paige didn't have to recover---she could have been struggling with alcoholism and the god inside her, even as she tried very hard to do what she could for the community she was building. We could have had scenes where Elgin is very pointedly not mentioning the bottle on the table; or where Paige is still tipsy but clearly trying to focus, etc.
Similarly, we could have had cheerful, slightly in denial Hayward, who just…spends too long in the restroom sometimes, emerges with scrubbed-red hands; conversations where he says, "On the force---" before going pale, stopping and abruptly changing the subject.
And Faulkner could have sulked. He could have sulked so much. He could have tried to talk to Dan, and found him unbearable in a direction that does not jive with Faulkner's at all; he could have tried to talk to Carpenter about "our river" only to get mercilessly told to shut up, he doesn't even know what he's talking about. He could have tried to talk to Paige, and found her a good listener until a couple swigs of home-brewed vodka in, at which point she starts composing lengthy, lovely speeches that make Faulkner uneasy and more than a little self-conscious, jealous.
Hayward has taken an earnest interest, like an uncle! (this is exactly how Hayward puts it.) Nothing makes Faulkner more uncomfortable.
(I do get a kick out of imagining Hayward being earnest in Faulkner's direction, and Faulkner being the only one not won over by Hayward; when Faulkner asks, even Carpenter will just say something like "Oh, that bastard? He's all right," and shrug a little, embarrassed by all the emotion. It drives Faulkner crazy.)
I also really love the idea that Hayward is the one to point out that Rane is absolutely dtf for Faulkner. He makes an offhanded comment with just enough of a wink and a nudge to make his meaning plain (he's not trying to be embarrassing, he's just trying to take an interest!) And then the weight of all of Rane's little gestures hit Faulkner like a ton of bricks.
I like to imagine that Faulkner tries to punch Hayward. Mostly because I love the image of Hayward holding an ice-pack to his nose and muttering, "What's his problem anyway?" while Carpenter and Paige lock eyes over his head and wordlessly agree to never, ever answer that question.
Anyway, I have lost the point.
Shrue and Val are a bit harder to arrange, but I think you could still send Hayward and Carpenter on their roadtrip to recruit Shrue---just have Faulkner stay behind with Paige, and have him be the way to keep the Grace more present in the story; to work with not just Paige's drunkenness but also the Woundtree, which grows stronger every day, and remains stubbornly something Faulkner cannot fix, write off, or control.
(That was always Faulkner's downfall, I think; he didn't understand that he was sticking his fingers in the tiger's cage until it swallowed him.)
(Also, it lets us focus more on Paige and her devolution, or rocky path forward, rather than "solving" her crises off-screen.)
This means that, after their radio broadcast about "Kill your gods!" Shrue---who was, up until just then, a besuited politician in the capitol---finds themselves taking Carpenter and Hayward's hands and fleeing to a dusty, dirty patch of land that might graciously be called a farm. Shrue is not especially happy about this, but hey, they get a little square of dirt and when they talk about rhetoric, the young people listen.
.......then one day, a bleeding, bruised and almost dead "god" shows up. Literally no one is happy to see her. She decides to stay.
#also hayward and paige are having truly epic amounts of dysfunctional sex that they absolutely refuse to talk about ever.#and carpenter is still struggling with the fact that she sort of promised herself to the cairn maiden#yet has found genuine happiness and a kind of peace. she loves paige. she and hayward are a weird kind of friends.#her brother is here.#also there's some politician who is deliberately growing out their ponytail and a human wmd who won't stop pulling said ponytail.#it's amazing except for all the parts where everyone can't stop arguing.#the silt verses
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Maybe this is off the wall, but imagine if instead of a Vander dupe with 0 lines or narrative weight, Vi ended up gaining a companion similar to Silco in season 2?
Not a guy that LOOKS like Silco, but a guy who has similar thoughts and opinions, and maybe even kinda acts like him, but in a way where he grates on Vi's nerves, but she doesn't know WHY for a while. Because let's be real, she hated Silco but she didn't really KNOW Silco. All she knows is A) him trying to kill her and her family and B) whatever Jinx has said about him, which she wouldn't be open to listening to considering point A.
I think it'd be interesting and maybe even hilarious if they became semi-antagonistic frenemies as Vi stumbles through Zaun. No idea how that would work with the rest of the plot, but I just can't help but wonder what Vi would think about Silco's ideals if they weren't attached to his name and face. Because from what little we saw of her beliefs in s1 act 1, they didn't seem all that different from Silco's own ideals. Basically, her staunch opposition of him stemmed directly from his antagonistic relationship with her dad/the threat he posed to her family.
And while we can infer a decent amount about her current beliefs based on her behavior in season 2, I feel like a lot of that also comes from the fact that they never give her an undercity companion that isn't her sister/someone she's kind of at odds with. Ekko would've been great for this, but they don't strike me as the types to pick each other's arguments apart. Someone like a younger Silco-lite would probably do that shit for fun (with those he considers worth talking to) and basically this is just me saying I wish we got more insight into Vi's thoughts around anything other than "Caitlyn Caitlyn Caitlyn Cupcake Cupcake."
It could also possibly help her gain perspective on Jinx's love for Silco and just who Silco was as a person, which might help her then maybe rethink some of her support for Piltover/her being so against Jinx and other Zaunites. Because it's no longer coming from the guy who had a hand in re-orphaning her. It wouldn't be with the mindset of "this evil guy is gonna try to trick me/kill me/steal my sister/etc." Rather, it would be interesting if he initially reminded her of herself when she was younger, and maybe it could help her figure out when that changed and why.
Also also, because I wish I could see some more of Silco and Vander's relationship in a way that doesn't trample over or contaminate Silco and Vander's stories (which they basically already did in S2, unfortunately).
#arcane s2#arcane critical#i put the critical tag to let people know i am NOT here to praise s2#but this isnt exactly criticism of the show either??? its based off my criticism of it but its not THE criticism if that makes sense.#vi arcane#vi#arcane#silco
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Incorrect quotes because I haven't posted in a while
Scar: BWWAAAAAAAAAA! Oh, you hear that? That's the wrong opinion alarm. Grian: That is not something you actually have installed. Scar: Sorry, say again? I couldn't hear you over my alarm that YOU SET OFF with your WRONG-ASS OPINION.
Grian, ordering Starbucks: Hey, I just got my heart broken, what do you recommend? Scar, who’s running the drive thru: … Scar: Tequila.
Scar: You can do it Grian! Scar: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.
Scar: casually taking four stairs at a time Grian, falling behind, taking two stairs at a time: Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fu-
Scar: Grian, I am nothing if not a man of principle. Scar: Now let’s break into this apartment.
Grian: When I die I want Scar to lower me into my grave so they can let me down one last time.
Scar: One time I went to hand Grian a bowl of soup. I wanted to say “Careful, it’s hot!”, and “Here’s your soup!”, so instead I blurted out “Careful it’s soup.”
Scar: I have an idea. Grian: A good idea? Scar: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.
Scar: I hate to say ‘I told you so’— Grian: No, you don’t. You would marry 'I told you so’ and have a baby with it and buy adjoining burial plots.
Grian: Fine! I don't give a shit! Scar: You seem to give a lot of shit for someone who claims not to give a shit.
Scar: If there are no questions, we’ll move on to the next chapter. Grian: I have a question. Scar: Certainly, Grian. What is it? Grian: What’s the point of human existence? Scar: I meant any questions about the subject at hand. Grian: Oh. Grian: Frankly, I’d like to have the issue resolved before I expend any more energy on this.
Scar: You… you saved me. You're not a beast at all. YOU'RE A HERO, AN UGLY UGLY UGLY HERO! Grian: Call me ugly again, and maybe I will eat you.
Scar: Your Honor, I hereby submit the following to the court: Scar: Grian, what the actual FUCK?
Scar: Grian, can I ask you a question? Grian: Sure, anything. Scar: Why don't you go back to your own house and leave us alone?
Grian: Go big or go home! Scar: Please, for once in your life just go home. I'm begging you. Go. Home. Grian: I'm going big!
Scar, playing a video game: This game is so frustrating! I hate it, I hate it, I hate it! Grian: Ok, I think it’s time to turn off the game for a little while. Scar: But I’m having fun!
Grian: What are you up to today? Scar: Nothing. Grian: But you did that yesterday! Scar: I wasn’t finished.
Scar: I got an idea! Grian: Does it involve breaking the law? Scar: By now don’t you think that’s a given? Grian: I was just trying to be optimistic. Scar: Don’t bother.
Grian: What’s your greatest weakness? Scar: Interpreting the semantics of a question, but ignoring the pragmatics. Grian: Could you give an example? Scar: Yes, I could.
Grian: Scar… Scar: I can tell by the tone of your voice that you are disappointed. Alas, I must further disappoint you by affirming how little I give a fuck.
Grian: I wish I had more enemies. Scar: I’m sure you will someday, honey.
Grian: I am the most responsible person in the group. Scar: …You just set the kitchen on fire. Grian: Yes, and I take full responsibility for that.
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20, 22, 29 fic writer asks my senford!
anything for you zoethur <3<3
Fic Writer Asks <33
20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?
you can take the heart from your chest to use as a compass when you are lost (or missed connections fic) is one of my favorites!
the song that i took the lyric from fits the fic so so soooo well too. just love the song. love this fic too. y'all should give it a read if ya haven't yet <3
22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?
usually! or at least, i know which direction i want it to go. like, i always know my fics will have a happy ending. but for the specifics i like for those things to kinda develop naturally as im plotting/writing.
29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)
(the perfect question for someone who has a folder titled "scrapped bits" bc i was taught by one of my favorite college professors to never delete anything you've written bc it might be useful someday)
I don't think I'll ever post the fic i have decided to call Gonorrhea Fic but I have one scene that I edited just now for you all to enjoy <3
Steve stomps away from the counter, little white paper bag in hand.
The pharmacist’s ‘Have a nice day!’ ringing in his ears like the most annoying alarm set to disturb him in the middle of a heavy sleep.
He pushes the clinic doors open with too much force, already clicking on Robin’s contact. It only rings once.
“Its fucking gonorrhea.” he rushes out as soon as she answered.
He props his phone up with his shoulder so he can fish around the bag for the pill bottle so he can discard his shame that is in the form of the telling pharmacy paper bag in his hand.
“Shucks, I was rooting for an unplanned pregnancy.” Steve whines as she snorts on the other end and if Steve wasn’t on the verge of tears, he’d have something snarky to say back.
“No shit it’s gonorrhea! That’s what happens when you go around throwing your hole at anybody who even shows a vague interest in you.” Slander, Steve thinks. This is just slander.
“I only showed my hole to one guy! One hook-up! The celebratory ‘I’m single so let’s see some new peen’ hook-up.” About two weeks ago, Steve finally ended the weird situationship with the guy he’d been hooking up with on the regular. Regular being used loosely in this case, considering he kept ghosting, only coming out to haunt Steve’s call log any time between 11pm and 3am. But Steve was hung up and didn’t want to keep being a booty call, not for someone he started to have actual feelings for.
“And then I go and pick the one who has the fucking clap!” he whisper-screams into the receiver. Robin’s hollering like a fucking hyena on the other end. He pulls the pamphlet on safe sex out of the bag, along with the orange pill bottle as he walks directly into someone, sending both of the objects flying out of his hands and onto the ground.
All of his athletic ability proving to be pointless as the stranger beats him to the pill bottle, rolling away.
Robin's laugh is the backdrop to the most embarrassing moment of his life, as the stranger (who is stupidly hot) picks up both the bottle and the pamphlet, his face screwing up into a knowing smirk.
Of course he has the most gorgeous set of brown eyes, shaggy hair not being able to cover up the notch in his brow, which is suggestively quirked up at Steve as he checks him out. Right there, no shame, in front of the damn clinic. Holding his STI meds.
"I think you're gonna need these."
Steve wishes whatever is in control of the universe would strike down and kill him, here and now.
"Thanks." He snatches his things, eyes on the ground in an attempt to hide how red he knows his face is.
Steve shoves the bottle into the pocket of his jeans, crumpling the pamphlet up in his hand as he speed-walks the hell away from the guy.
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i think one of the biggest factors for why the dynamic of tophabe is so addicting at least to me and Maybe other people who enjoy them is the way their motivations and needs as characters fit into eachother so perfectly. and i think the most basic summary of that is topher is very possessive of things and likes to be the one in control of things, and abe, while also wishing to be in a position of responsibility and authority, more often just wants to be accepted at all. any sort of relationship that topher has with anyone - apart from the bleacher creatures - is always doomed from the moment they meet because of how overbearing and entitled he is, however with abe, even after topher crossed him like he does with pretty much everyone at some point, abe holds pretty much no grudge against him because that’s just the type of person he is. abe’s absolute biggest weakness in the entire show apart from his cluelessness and naivety, is how he doesnt stand up for himself. this is probably going to be disproven since they haven’t even had a proper interaction at all since the whole thing so hold pretty much nothing to this, but not once has he said something like wait why am i talking to you?? you blackmailed me!! while talking to topher. abe’s whole thing is he never stops viewing people as his friends even when they mistreat him. once abe sees you as a friend of his there’s almost no turning back. and while im not entirely sure what he thought of topher during the time in season 2 where they appeared to be regularly talking to eachother, that seems to still hold true with them. tldr its the same features that hinder both of them from having truly good relationships and deter other people from them that really make them click as a duo
#this ended up being way more about abe which ya know. i like that. good job me#also sorry but again….. you have no idea how much i despise the grumbles plot#not the blackmailing thing but just the fact that it had to be That topher couldve at least just convinced abe to do it with another studen#or something and i hate hate hate how intertwined it is with these two and how dirty it feels at times because of it#I Hate Tophabe I Wish It Never Happened To Me. stuffs this hastily in my drafts for a slow day#clone high#tophabe#mine
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I like the fact Tremaine's designated color is pink while Germaine's is maroon because if I draw them together it looks so bright and happy but they're in a dying world and both commit crimes many times a week just to survive. But hey, whatever.
If love is how they die, it beats starvation or injury! So letting them be codependent is like a treat almost.
#my characters#germaine and tremaine at least have each other (and kind of adopt motka as familial)#as mentioned prev with germaine who is the material wealth based layer guy#tremaine is the layer of lust and motka (who i keep mentioning) is the layer for gluttons#but while germaine is pretty much the embodiment OF being overly greedy and materialistic is incredibly rational#and while he hates it he knows when to cut a loss (item wise)#tremaine while the layer of lust and who does like the idea of having a fling has minimal desire for an actual romance#and based on the world they live in he knows its not really reasonable to expect a lot of intimacy and is mostly fine with it#but to cope with that lack of intimacy he is very touchy feely with the team including draping over his brothers back#or hugging motka whenever he wants despite germaine and motka being very much not fond of contact#to them its like ok fine tremaine is the exception but no one else can touch me#motka as the layer for gluttons is a bit different in that he is more uh.... the layer rather than the glutton#so he likes to cook and he likes to make others eat and he doesnt really eat much himself#hed rather make that someone elses joy especially since resources are hard to come by#so he acts like the group mom and germaine (as one of the oldest) is group dad and they're most of the reason why the group stays alive#also oddly enough to point out but germaine and tremaine are the only sibling layers while other layers DO have siblings#like the other oldest one has a younger sister and the team doctor guy has two younger siblings (twins)#and then the youngest member (limbo) has an older brother#so yeah i dont really know why the wellington brothers get to both be layers but theyre making it everyones problem#i really liked the cast for this plot but i dont really have much in terms of how i wanted the plot to go ?#so i dont draw them a whooooole lot but been thinking about these codependent brothers lately#and final note but motka used to have a younger sister but she died from illness which is why he is so lenient with tremaine#hes like i wish i still had a younger sibling so now you will be like my family if youd let me#and tremaine blissfully unaware for the longest time that THATS why motka is so lenient with the touching from him#its because hes more pleased by the Still Having a Sibling Aspect rather than pleased with tremaine
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forced myself to finish this book even though by the last hundred pages or so all i was doing was picking apart the post-catholicism of it all. bc i feel like it's important to read shit you don't gel with . just because. even though the whole way through i was like they HAVE to prove it's not real. they HAVE to. so not the point of any of it but i was desperate for them to Find The Body etc. and of course instead they have mystical time travel experiences and all that because that is the kind of book the actual star is but i was desperate for them to realize that the star you see is the actual star. and then it wasn't
#the actual star#like i me? personally? am a staunch and firm believer that the star you see is the actual star#i dont cotton to the concept of 'higher levels of consciousness'#or 'transcendence' or the concept that the world is not the home#like. do i think people can put themselves in altered states of consciousness? sure. but none of those states are higher or better#it's just drugs or whatever. hallucination. sleep deprivation. really good/bad mood. brainwaves#i like aggressively dont believe that shit#but the book and the characters here DO. and i had to go with it while trying not to nitpick it too hard the entire time#not my favorite experience but one i was determined to have anyway just to see the thing through to the end#i think my favorite timeline was a tossup between the 1012 and the 3012. but the 3012 mostly in the beginning when it was all worldbuilding#by the end it was getting more mystical and i had too many issues with the future society that weren't going to have time to be resolved#which was very clearly also not the Point Of The Book which is a big one for loose threads and 'decoherence of meaning'#the 1012 plot was more engaging on a throughline level. i enjoyed it beginning middle to end just wish ket had been there more#she was sort of a decoy protagonist she got a couple chapters and then it was all the twins lethally misunderstanding each other#this is also a book which really really gets into entropy which#well first of all its scary. entropy. but secondable it's not as big of a noticeable deal as youd think it would be#what the fuck ever you're alive#who cares if everything is going to fall apart in eight billion years#there's a bit in the last xander chapter where he's like oh i HATE everything i HATE the earth!!! ok and you're about to have#the most formative experience of your life and build a cult around it. on the foundational idea that the earth isnt as real as heaven is#babeeeeeeeeeeeeeee the catholicismmmmmmmmmmmmmm#this book. more than anything. made me think about all of the 3012 jewish buddhist etc ppl living in sedente communities like#watching all of this from the sidelines wondering when Christianity 2 is going to fall apart under its own weight#now THAT'S entropy babey
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me when I listen to "Say Don't Go" by t swift and imagine remadora
#remadora#THIS IS THEIR SONNNNNGGGGGGGGGG#well its more Tonks @ remus but STILL#god esp when he leaves her when he finds out she's pregnant???? im ILL#im so sorry for the person I will become when the hbo show comes out. my tiktok account WILL become an edit account#dust off the capcut app on my MacBook#all I ask is a b plot in s5 where it shows them going on espionage missions together and falling in love#and then them getting together at the end of s6 and a one off comment about them eloping in s7#at Bill and Fleurs wedding like:#“do you ever wish we had something like this?”#“and miss out on the drunk Scottish wizards giving us vow ideas? I wouldnt trade that for the world my darling” or w/e
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For the wipe tag game:
May I inquire about :
The devil's due ( I have been hooked since the first chapter that u posted. It's such an interesting idea with so many possibilities)
The gentle light ( will we get more of yohan's poverty?)
Thank u, and have a nice day 🩵
Thank you so much for the ask!
The Devil's Due
Oh man, this one. I am hooked on this one too, but I keep holding it off because I know it'll be pretty long and it's also going to be pretty, uh, sexually charged? And that intimidates me x'D
But yeah, I LOVE the idea and the possibilities it offers. It's a story that would focus on Ga On and Yo Han's relationship without the power imbalance of them being chief and subordinate. That's to say that Ga On is going to be even feistier than in canon, if you can believe that. And he's going to be more aware of his sexuality and what he actually wants — or who, I guess I should say.
The main plot would really just be Ga On getting to know Yo Han — and Elijah — during different circumstances. And the biggest conflict will be the fire and whether or not Yo Han caused it, plus Yo Han trying to open Ga On's eyes to the corruption in their country. The main portion of the fic would be set a couple of years after the first chapter, and a couple of years before the start of the drama. So they're all a little less jaded and, since the situation is so different — Ga On isn't sent to spy on him, for one — Yo Han won't be as defensive. But he's obviously also going to be, well, Yo Han. He's working as a normal judge, trying not to draw too much attention to himself — biding his time for his revenge, and all that — but he would definitely not mind having some fun with the bright-eyed, reformed delinquent he saved from a life as a criminal.
As a treat.
As with many of my WIPs at the moment, this fic is mostly just a collection of lines of dialogue from various scenes, with no connecting text around them. So there are no complete snippets I can show, but I can say that the first time they do something sexual together it's because Ga On has finally had it with Yo Han's teasing and flirting and just marches into his office — at Yo Han's work, yes — and goes:
Ga On: "Fine. Let's fuck."
Yo Han, after a small pause: "Right now?"
Ga On, very scathingly: "Do you want me to schedule an appointment?"
Yo Han: "You're an absolute delight when you're angry."
There are reasons why Ga On is being so blunt, I want to point out, because he wouldn't usually be. Again: Yo Han and his manipulation tactics.
... and yes, they do have sex right then and there, in Yo Han's office. Which is one of the reasons why I'm afraid to write this. I'm way out of my depth here x'D
But I will continue eventually! I like the story way too much to give up on it :)
The Gentle Light
As for this one, I was kind of shocked to realise that I have a lot more written on chapter 2 than I initially thought. It takes place right after the first chapter, so basically Yo Han's side of the very loaded conversation that takes place during chapter 7. I've just been adding bits and pieces here and there when I've felt like it and now I have almost 4 000 words. Imagine that.
Here's a snippet!
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Yo Han slowly walked up the steps leading to Kim Ga On's apartment, his hand sliding along the railing. The metal was cold against the mess of scar tissue on his palm, sending a chill up his arm. Yo Han paid that no mind, focusing instead on taking in his surroundings. While he'd known Ga On's address ever since K did the first background check, Yo Han had never actually been to visit before.
There had never been a reason for him to — until now.
As Yo Han finished climbing the first set of stairs, his gaze swept briefly over the terrace to his left, then flicked upward, toward the rooftop. There was apparently another terrace up there, but it was dark for the time being and therefore not of much interest to Yo Han.
Instead, he turned and looked out at the surrounding buildings. The neighborhood was as run-down as he'd expected, debris littering the streets and the majority of the buildings in desperate need of repairs — some even looked abandoned. Or perhaps the owners had simply given up, choosing to huddle inside the dark, decrepit shells of what used to be their homes, waiting for the end to come. That seemed common in these parts, where unemployment and hopelessness blanketed every house and street corner, sucking the life out of those few remaining.
Yo Han could tell it hadn't always been that way, though. There were glimpses of a once lively neighborhood hiding underneath the grime and despair, the descent probably having happened slowly over time as the economy kept getting worse and worse — money getting tighter and tighter. And, eventually, whether they wanted to or not, the people had no choice but to give in.
It made sense, Yo Han supposed, for Kim Ga On to have grown up in a place like this, where he'd had to watch what he once knew wither away and fall into disrepair in front of his very eyes.
That deeply rooted disdain for the rich must have come from somewhere, after all.
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A lot of what I have so far is basically just Yo Han sauntering around in front of Ga On's apartment, observing things and drawing conclusions about Ga On. It's kind of adorable in it's own way xD But things obviously take a very dramatic turn once Ga On shows up, some of which I've shown before in snippets that you can find here.
I can't promise I'll ever post this, though, since I'd obviously have to finish it first and this is very far down on my list of priorities right now. But we'll see, I guess? If I keep chipping away at it one piece at a time, eventually it will be finished.
I hope you like it! And you have a nice day, too 💜
WIP Tag Game
#Amethystina Replies#Anonymous#WIP Tag Game#Honestly#The Devil's Due lives rent-free inside my head#You have no idea how much time I've spent pondering it#And plotting the various scenes#I would LOVE to write it#But I want to at least finish the Gravitational Pull sequel first#Or sequelS to be more precise#But we'll see#God I wish I had more time to write#Because there's so much I WANT to write#But life keeps getting in the way#I am sad#:C
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uuuuuhhh no reason just wanna see the robot get preggers because nobody is really taking advantage of the narrative consequences of the robots of ULTRAKILL having fleshy bits inside them (in my humble opinion hahahaha...hahaha....hah....). Anywhosen also a sucker for general Bad End especially when it involves a psycho-sexual (breeding) binding to a greater entity but also I wanna see the murder-robot get knocked up. And the galaxy brain bit of this is instead of calming down they just get Worse.
YEAH NO ONE REALLY TAKES ADVANTAGE OF THAT. and well i mostly assumed a very small percentage of people actually want to breed the robots like that which is why.
also i don't think this as a bad end, but a bad path that can lead to some other.. inch resting things (my stupid ass is trying to craft a plot with horror and drama from this path and how it'd change the story slightly despite knowing I will never get around to writing it in fic form except tiny excerpt ideas and art)
also i have so much to say abt the 'it doesn't calm down it just gets worse' bc its So true
#kicking my legs. it sooo genuinely gets worse i think it believes its actually in “love” with hell. and maybe it is.#gets worse and loses itself more and more. abandon any last trace of identity that had never been regarded anyway by anyone#its easy to let something guide you and instruct you in nearly everything if it feels too painfully good? and why spend more power thinking#altho for the. plot i was conducting in my head it was msotly involving gabriel and the primes bc of an idea my friend gave me which was#that if this occurred before v1 reached the prime sanctums it could have been guided or instructed to go to the sanctums but at the time#it does its currently carrying a child and because of that both the primes and v1 itself are spared because. i dont know if i think#the kings would fight a pregnant person . i at least think sisyphus Wouldnt because wheres the fun in an opponent who appears to already#be disadvantaged. (even if it can fare just fine.)#if any friendships were able to be made (cough . i like sisyphus qnd v1 platonic and romantic) itd be kind of. sad from an outside perspect#ve to watch it deteriorate into being less of its own entity and becoming slowly just another extension of hell. even in fighting it shows.#i wish i could explain it all better#and sorry if this ask is late to be answered i was writing my rwsponse at a con LMAOOO#.txt#ask#i want to write i have no timeee no energyyy but hear me out there is potential for crazy wackjob shit#ive decided also not to kill gabriel i think i should do somethign fucked up with him and his inexperience in relationshios#i forgot who suggested he should get so desperate that he begs for hell to take him as well. (which i cant decide if it would or wouldnt bc#its kind of really funny and mean if it#says no)
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