#lost words drabble meme

[positivelybeastly]

Mancation: maiming; mutilation / Sinister

"Make the incision, McCoy."

There was a pregnant shine of a scalpel, the movement of an oversized hand, the twitch of fingers . . . and then . . . moments passed.

A sigh.

"I said, make the incision, McCoy."

There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh, unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . .

Blood.

A clatter, a turn of a stomach. And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck.

"You don't want to disappoint me, do you, Henry?"

The shake of a head.

"So why do you persist in doing so, boy?"

The bob of an Adam's apple, and the garish homunculus that once was, still called itself, Nathaniel Essex, let out another sigh.

"You're fifteen years old, Henry. You're more than old enough to do this now. It isn't even a mutant you're working on yet, this is just a flatscan. They aren't people. You know that. You've seen the research we've done on them, we know that they don't feel pain the same way that we do."

Did they? Did they know that?

"There are thousands of mutants who would kill to be in the position you're in now, boy. Thousands of people with lesser intellects but greater wills to do what must be done, and they're all just sitting, waiting, for the chance that you keep squandering. How long do you think I shall wait? How many chances do you think I'll give you?"

He was quiet. The boy couldn't normally shut up when he was cloistered with his books and his research journals, but the instant it came time to do some actual damned work, he was quiet? The human spine of him was so very disgusting.

". . . I had high hopes for you. I selected you personally."

There was - a vague memory. Henry wasn't sure if it was blanketed out by some kind of mental alteration, by what he knew to be a young mind's inability to form long term memories the same way a fully formed one did, or if it was just . . . fear.

A fear of half-remembered warmth that had turned so very cold so very quickly. He remembered . . . sitting on the floor, it had been a wood floor, next to a fireplace, he couldn't have been more than - four, maybe five. Very young. Very very young. He could remember hushed, frightened voices, a man and a woman, talking about getting out of America, about leaving the farm behind and just going.

He could remember not liking that idea. Of wanting to stay on the farm, with its strings of golden corn and rich, brown earth, with its never-ending horizon and all the things he could swing from - it was a playground to him.

Everything gleamed, sparkled, it had such lustre, it begged to be looked at, turned over, investigated, prodded, poked. He'd had a field day when he discovered worms liked mud, he'd just sat there watching them for hours until his . . . someone, had found him, told him off, cleaned him up. Held his jaw and smiled, telling him that she wasn't upset, that she just wanted to make sure he was all right, that he could tell her all about what the worms had done over dinner.

Dinner had been burbling away when the knock at the door had come. The low tones and the panicked, assertive whisper-shouts of two people who knew their time was running out had ceased, replaced with silence. Just the burbling of a pot.

The swing of a door. A shadow in the doorway. A voice.

His voice.

Every time he tried to remember past that point, it got hazy. Complicated. Like a knot of hair that had been left to scraggle around itself for months, tangled so tight it was impossible to unwind, fit only to be cut out and regrown healthy. Untangled. Uncomplicated.

"I have raised you, taken a special interest in your education, in your growth, in your being. You would be lesser without me, you know that, don't you?"

In his mind, Henry pulled at that tangle, and it bled. He could remember - smoke, coagulating in his lungs, choking him. He could remember a sweet smell even through the salt of tears, blood soaked wood, and then pale. White. Pale white with a little red diamond.

"You insult me with your silence, Henry, but that's fine. It's the burden of a father to be disappointed by his son. You have one week. If I return to this lab and you do not have results for me, you'll be released from your service and you can make do out there."

There was an instinctive chill at the mention of out there. A tensing, a revulsion, a creeping horror at the knowledge that the world was not as it should be and there was nothing anyone could do to make it the way it should be.

Footsteps. The door. And then, as if like magic, the air returned to the room.

Henry breathed and pulled back, his hands shaking as he looked down at the tiny incision he'd made, barely a cut, really, but even just that speck of blood had made him want to retch. An invisible hand reached over the back of his and squeezed, directed him to grab a surgical cloth and clean, apply pressure, stop the bleeding.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

He pulled away the instant he could, moved to the sink, refused to look in the mirror for as long as he could. Why hadn't he been able to do it? He'd been taught the correct method, he had studied all the surgical manuals, it should have been easy, he had hands that could, that could disassemble and reassemble a pulse particle rifle in twenty seconds, that could detect the vibrations from the music three floors down if he pressed his palm to the walls, his hands never shook, but the instant he'd . . .

He looked up, in the mirror, and winced. He was pale. Sweaty, weak, white as a sheet, god, he was disgusting. Why was this the hand that his X-gene had dealt him? Why did he have to look so basely human? Why did he have to look so degenerate, so much lesser? Why couldn't he have been one of the lucky ones?

His mutant gift was concentrated in hands that couldn't do the work he had been given. What cruel irony was this?

*

"Have you read the Lord Apocalypse's latest treatise, McCoy?"

Henry's eyes flicked up from the food he'd been pushing around on his plate with a blunted knife, regarding Kavita with a cool, cautious eye. She was a human, but - she was all right, by most standards. Allowed to work with the other mutant scientists by virtue of her intelligence and her willingness to work in the ways that Henry found so hard, she was probably a front runner for his replacement if he continued to falter.

For a moment, he considered plunging the knife into her throat, just on the off chance that happened.

"What? No. No, I have not, I've been - busy."

Busy being not busy. Busy staring at the drugged subject on his lab table, trying to work up the nerve to carve them open and nourish himself with the information that was hidden inside. Busy trying to be someone he wasn't.

"Too busy to read the Lord's latest treatise . . ? That doesn't sound like you."

He scowled.

"If you wish to continue to be enigmatic, Rao, you can leave. I'm in no mood to entertain you today."

Kavita rolled her eyes, knowing better than almost anyone that Henry was just in one of his moods, and though she elected to leave, as he'd suggested, she did, nonetheless, slide over a pamphlet - a slim one, by Apocalypse's standards, but that usually boded well. That usually meant less philosophy, more science.

'The Awakening of Mutancy - Secondary Mutation.'

"I think you'll find it an interesting read. It's still just theory, for the most part, but Apocalypse truly believes that there's potential in it."

*

Henry devoured it. From the first word to the last, it was seared into his brain, because in amongst the quasi-religious, gallingly obvious propaganda about the purity of the mutant form, there was science here - there was theory, there was data, there was hypothesis, there was . . . promise. Unfulfilled, as of yet, but it was there.

X-gene manifestation at puberty as a result of a cocktail of hormones, adrenaline, acetylcholine, forming a brand new hormone that had yet to be isolated, but that was theorised to be the root cause of mutant gifts. A hormone. Fascinating. Chemical instructions, chemical blueprints for a new form that catalysed the unique genetic markers, pulled something new out of the code, a form of alchemy, really.

Fascinating.

Fascinating.

*

"Rao, I assure you, Essex knows the specifics of this project, and it's to him, and him alone, that I'm responsible. Now, if you'll excuse me, this cell diagram has to be programmed immediately. And to do that, I'll need absolute concentration. Which means, I'm afraid, you'll have to leave."

There was a moment of pregnant silence as Kavita took Henry McCoy in, took in the frantic, manic little man as he all but raced from table to table, from station to station, before she spoke.

"Henry, this is . . . you only have three more days before Essex returns, and you haven't even begun to do the work that he's asked you to do. Are you sure you should be wasting time on this?"

"It's not a waste of time. You don't understand."

The short, clipped tone made Kavita feel as though she were staring at Henry through a funhouse mirror - he was still unmistakably himself, still that same too intense fifteen year old with a mop of brown hair, but there was a look in his eyes that was . . . impulsive. Propulsive. Determined. Worrying.

"I almost wish I hadn't given you that pamphlet now, it's clear that I set you down a path for fai - "

In an instant, he was upon her, grabbing her by the shoulders and slamming her against the nearest wall. Her head bounced and she groaned in pain, but even though she could see a flicker of remorse in those searing blue eyes, it didn't stop him for even a second.

"I. Will not. Fail. I can't fail. It's impossible. I'm too smart to fail. I just need time, to focus, and I don't need wittering little humans with their fragile little four chambered hearts and their shrunken brains to talk to me as if they know me."

Kavita swallowed.

"Henry, your heart is - "

"Six chambered. Just because I look like you, just because I look like a genetic mistake, doesn't mean I am. What matters, is what is in here - " He tapped fervently at his temple and his heart. " - and that is mutant." He released her, stepping back, breathing deeply, and she rubbed at the back of her head.

". . . You've done me a service, Kavita. That pamphlet was the key. But you are, in the end, only human. Don't forget that. No-one will ever let you."

He turned, and she watched him stalk over to the cell diagram once more.

"I hope - I hope that this brings you what you want, Henry. I hope, more than anything, that what you want, is what will make you happy."

*

Perhaps you should have listened to her, Henry. Instead of focusing on the genetic extractor you were developing, perhaps it might have saved you.

"There - it's done. I've finally diluted the precipitate. This . . . this is the hormonal extract, the chemical cause of mutation. With this solution, we'll be able to extend the natural chromosonal imbalances - in effect, to turn any man into a mutant."

You swallowed, Henry. You could feel, on some level, that this was a moment that would define you. What might other Henry McCoys have done? Put the extract down, throw it in the trash? Accept failure? Accept defeat? Accept the human face that stares at you from the mirror?

Not you, though.

The fear. The sheer, unbridled terror that's sat in your gut since that day so many years ago. The low, dull throb of anxiety that pulses like a second heart inside of you. The crippling, choking shadow of a hand around your throat, and something wet coagulating on your face.

The fear is what makes the decision. Not you. But then, what is a man but the sum of his fears? What is a man but the totality of the roads not taken? What is a man, if not what he'll do to avoid failure?

"Don't know what will happen if you mutate a mutant . . . but I've got to take the chance. I've got to."

That wasn't precisely the truth, was it, Henry McCoy? You didn't have to. But the fear that's driven you since you were five years old and newly adopted by a thing not of this earth told you differently, and you took the hormonal extract, and . . .

You changed.

Blinding, searing pain - for a moment, you thought you might have swallowed acid. You bent over, clutched at your stomach, and for that long moment, you thought, this is what it means to die. But that was when you understood.

It's all right to die. Resurrection, reformation, rebirth, re-emergence, resurgence, is what separates the man from the mutant, after all.

And resurrected you were. Your skin burst, the flesh separating from the muscle as the soft cells of a human burned away, to be replaced. Your nails surged forward, blood bubbling up around the cuticle as the digits swelled and everything about you grew. You screamed as that hole inside of you was suddenly filled to overflowing, as newfound strength thrummed through you, new life, new power, new you.

It's all right to die, isn't it, Henry? Nothing of value inside of you was lost. Not truly. Some other Henry McCoy might see this as a curse, but you . . . ahhh.

You were blessed.

*

"Well now, Henry, young Doctor Rao here tells me that you've been quite the busy bee - I do so hope that you've applied yourself to - "

Essex stopped.

The broad back that worked and flowed and tensed and relaxed before him was covered in a thick layer of harsh black fur. Heavy strands of hair were braided, hung low with beads. There was a glimpse of a hand, twisted into cruel, shimmering claws and grabbing, eager fingers, and Kavita brought her palm up to her mouth. She spoke through her fingers, taking it all in.

"What is all this?"

The voice that answered was deep, sonorous. There was a rumble to it that wasn't quite human. An edge to it that wasn't quite all there, or, maybe it was. It sounded so very sure.

"It's science."

Essex's voice was dubious.

"Science. How delightfully vague, Henry. What have you been doing? I hope for your sake it's been what I told you to do."

Henry - or, whatever it was that had assumed Henry's shape - turned around, and Kavita wanted to scream. Essex, even, started.

A mouth twisted with glee at their reactions.

"Why, Kavita, Nathaniel, you look as though you've seen a ghost. But then, perhaps that's accurate."

He stepped aside, revealing the body flayed open, pinioned with steel rods, the flesh taut like canvas, organs conspicuous by their absence. There had been no mercy, no invisible hands, no memory here. Just efficiency. Just good, honest science.

"After all, a ghost is nothing more than a memory, a memory of who we once were, before we become what we must."

The thing laughed, and Sinister laughed with it - delighted. Proud.

"And what am I to call my young protege, now that he's become what he was always meant to be?"

It was almost affectionate, the way Sinister's tongue curled around the words, and Kavita could see the creature revel in them. He didn't have to think twice.

"Beast. Call me Beast."

[brumahielo-a]

// here’s the tags

[whitedarkmoonflower]

Indelicate proposal

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @thatawkwardlittlefangirl and @itzavahere I told you I'll blame you both for planting this idea into my head. So here it is and I've no idea why this initially short drabble grew into something so monstrous as it is now. I just hope you'll enjoy. And this is the meme that actually triggered it all 😅

Warnings: fluff, SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, sub/dom undertones, slightly dominant reader, praise kink, hints to past abuse, Sihtric being a bit lost but absolutely the sweetest (don't know whether this is a warning but just in case 😅)

Summary: an unexpected proposal leads to more unexpected actions as you discover the surprisingly soft core of the young warrior seeking your attention. Can't claim there is much plot despite the word count

Word Count: 7,1 K

"Sihtric is with us now," Uhtred declared simply, devoid of any pomp or solemnity. The decision was made, requiring no further confirmation.

From the sidelines, you had observed the scene unfold beside Lady Gisela, your hand poised on the hilt of your sword, ready to spring into action if need be, prepared to protect her if necessary. Your eyes scanned every slight movement of the young prisoner, who held Halig hostage.

His slender yet well-built frame was taut like a drawn bow, every muscle vibrating with tension. His eyes darted nervously around the gathering, briefly meeting your scrutinising gaze before settling on Uhtred.

Wide and expressive, his eyes, framed by thick lashes, gleamed with a blend of despair and determination. Despite the tightness in his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, there was no hint of malice or cruelty in his gaze, only a fierce resolve to endure, akin to that of a trapped wild animal.

A fresh wound above the Dane's temple left a hint of red in his short-cropped hair on the sides. The purple blue bruise marrying his left eye, the fresh cuts and scrapes on his arms, and his bleeding nose and lip added to his battered appearance. He was young, likely even a few summers younger than yourself, but the way his muscles rippled beneath the skin, told you there was much more hidden beneath his youthful and even soft features.

A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips as you observed the young Dane, realising that his greenness might have lulled the vigilance of the guards tasked with watching him. It was a tactic you knew well, one you had used to your advantage countless times before.

Gisela's worried whisper broke through your thoughts. "Do you believe he can be trusted?"

"We'll have to see," you responded with a nonchalant shrug, drawing your dagger from its sheath, prompted by Uhtred's nod in your direction.

Approaching the young man cautiously, your eyes locked onto his, noticing the dilation of his pupils and the tense set of his muscles. It was evident he was unsure of what to expect from you and braced himself instinctively for an attack.

"Hands," you demanded, tilting your head. He tried to maintain composure, but his breath betrayed him, quickening as his chest rose and fell unevenly. With a hesitant glance at Uhtred and the others dispersing from the clearing, leaving just the two of you behind, he extended his bound hands toward you. They trembled slightly, his chest now still as he held his breath in anticipation.

Pressing your dagger against the ropes, you made a swift cut, eliciting a sharp exhale from Sihtric. His eyes followed the falling remnants of the ropes, landing at his feet, his hands remaining outstretched as if in disbelief of his newfound freedom.

Raising his gaze to meet yours, your eyes locked - two deep pools of different colours filled with a mixture of alarm and trepidation, an unspoken question hanging in the air between you.

"You're free," you confirmed, and a faint smile touched the corners of the young warrior’s lips, though it failed to reach his eyes, a subtle sadness lurking within their depths.

Sheathing your dagger, you turned to leave, but halted after a few steps, casting a questioning glance back. Sihtric remained where you had left him, rubbing his wrists, a perplexed and somewhat sheepish expression gracing his handsome features. A smile tugged at your lips as you observed him, a curious warmth blooming within you. It seemed he was at a loss for what to do now that his audacious plan to gain Uhtred’s attention had unexpectedly granted him freedom.

"Sihtric, are you coming?" you called out, surprised when the young Dane visibly flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes flicked towards you, and in the next moment, he hurried into motion, falling into step behind you.

"Can't you sit still?" you whispered with exasperation, your patience wearing thin. Cleaning Sihtric’s head wound had become a challenging endeavour, akin to trying to pin down a spooked animal. He squirmed and shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, his hands restless as they roamed from the collar of his armour to his sides and back again, as if uncertain where to settle.

It was evident that the simple act of being tended to was deeply unsettling for him. As you reached out again with the damp rag, Sihtric, caught off guard by your movement, flinched and nearly leaped from his seat. In his startled reaction, he accidentally overturned the bowl of warm water you held, splashing both you and the ground.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice barely audible, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he hastily clasped his hands between his knees. Avoiding your gaze, his eyes darted around the tent, searching for a means of escape.

You furrowed your brow, taking a step back to observe the young Dane before you, who seemed as though he'd prefer to vanish into thin air.

It all felt painfully familiar, an almost long-forgotten image emerging in the back of your mind like a jagged shard of glass. You saw her clearly, that young girl with wild hair and desperate eyes, caught in the act of stealing from a lady with cascading dark curls and a smile that could melt the coldest heart.

You had snarled and recoiled when she reached out to touch your unkempt locks,  expecting a whip but met with only kindness. She offered you food, a bath, and clothes to replace the ragged remnants hanging from your frail frame. Yet, despite this generosity, you fled the very same night. Sneaking out of the room offered to you, you ran without looking back, incapable to comprehend why you were treated with such goodness, feeling suffocated by it all, unable to bear the weight of her compassion.

A month later, you encountered her again in the bustling marketplace of Eoferwick, your fingers once more grasping for the purse at her side.

"My name is Gisela," she had said, her smile unwavering as you returned the stolen purse later that evening, cheeks flushed with shame. From that moment on, you never strayed from her side.

Meanwhile Sihtric’s gaze had shifted downward, fixated on his worn boots. Shoulders slumped and slightly hunched over, the young warrior, possessing the strength and skill to disarm two grown men with his hands securely bound, resembled a child caught in mischief, anticipating reprimand.

You softened your expression and extended a reassuring smile towards him. "It's alright, Sihtric," you said gently, your tone soothing as you reached out, resting your hand on his shoulder. "Just try to relax. Can you do that for me? We'll get through this together. You’re safe here."

Retrieving a bowl from the ground, you headed outside to fetch warm water from the kettle over the crackling fire.

"Would you mind if I tended to your wounds?" you asked, your tone tender, pausing to give him space. You sensed how crucial it was for him to feel in control, so you waited patiently, allowing him to make his own decision.

After a moment of uncertainty, Sihtric acquiesced with a slow nod, exhaling deeply. His gaze remained fixed on you as you drew near, this time handing him the bowl to occupy his restless hands. As you resumed your task of cleaning away the blood and applying salve to the bruises, a sense of relief washed over you as Sihtric remained seated, clutching the bowl as if it were a lifeline. Despite his body still being tense and his breaths ragged, he managed to keep himself still long enough for you to complete your work.

"It looks much better now," you remarked with a smile, stepping aside to assess the result of your efforts.

"It seems you've got yourself a new admirer," Gisela teased, nudging you in the side with a playful smile.

"What?" you replied, pretending to be clueless.

"Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed the way that young Dane looks at you. What was his name again?"

"You mean Sihtric?" you confirmed.

"Yes, Sihtric," Gisela chuckled, holding onto your hand despite your attempt to pull away. 

"Tell me all about him!"

"There's not much to tell," you dismissed, feeling a bit bashful.

"Come on, he practically can't take his eyes off you. Your horse has never looked better, and your gear is always impeccably cared for. How many times has he leapt to his feet, overthrowing the bench he was sitting on, to fetch you ale before you've even asked?"

Of course, you couldn't overlook any of it. Over the past week, Sihtric had become like your shadow. Your horse received extra care, your weapons gleamed with attention, even the loose ropes of your tent were neatly secured, and the kettle by your fire was constantly refilled with fresh water.

You tried to reason with him, insisting that such efforts weren't necessary. You were perfectly capable of handling your own belongings. Yet, he remained resolute. He didn’t argue with you, offering only a simple, "Yes, lady," with his gaze cast downward and his arms stiff at his sides. The following day, when you approached the horses, your mare was already tended to, her coat gleaming and her feed replenished.

"Sihtric, what are you doing here?" you exclaimed, surprised to find the young warrior curled up near the entrance of your tent, wrapped in the furs and blankets you had provided for him on his first day in camp.

Lost in discussions with Uhtred and Gisela about Guthred's intended negotiations with the Turgilsons brothers, time had slipped away from you. Sihtric had proven invaluable, gathering crucial intelligence on the brothers' forces and camp location, earning praise and rewards from Uhtred. Alongside his prowess with a blade, the young Dane showed remarkable cunning as a spy and scout, excelling at remaining unnoticed.

Regret washed over you as your words escaped, realising the abruptness of your tone. Sihtric practically jumped to his feet, rubbing his eyes and trying to regain composure, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and panic as he surveyed his surroundings.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in your tent?” you asked, lowering your voice and aiming for a soothing tone.

“I... Um... Clapa snores,” he offered uncertainly.

“Are you spying on me?”

“No, lady, why would I? I... I wouldn’t dare. I just wanted to be close in case you needed something.”

“Sihtric, we've had this discussion before. You're not my servant. I can take care of my horse and my weapons just fine,” you said firmly, the frustration evident in your tone.

Sihtric's shoulders dropped, and he cast his gaze downwards. “Are you upset with me, my lady? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Sihtric, my horse will burst if you keep feeding her like this, and I fear there'll soon be a hole polished into my sword.”

“I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean any harm. I only wanted to help, to be of use. I won't bother you anymore,” Sihtric stammered, hastily gathering his belongings.

A pang of sympathy tugged at your heart. You hadn't intended to hurt his feelings, but you clearly had.

“Wait, don't go. I didn't mean it like that,” you reached out instinctively, gripping his arm in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

Sihtric froze as your fingers grazed his skin, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. Sensing his discomfort, you quickly withdrew your hand.

“I'm sorry,” you apologised, feeling a twinge of guilt. “I truly appreciate your help, Sihtric. It's just that sometimes it feels a bit overwhelming.”

Your gaze softened as you looked at the young man before you. Despite your initial suspicions, you couldn't deny the genuine kindness in his demeanour. His innocence and vulnerability reminded you of yourself in many ways, and the way he often appeared completely lost and overwhelmed by his new surroundings was so familiar to you that against your better judgement, you found yourself growing fond of him. Perhaps even more than you were ready to admit. 

“Can I offer you some hot tea?” you suddenly asked, eager to show him a bit of appreciation. Sihtric nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You held the tent flaps open, inviting him inside with a graceful gesture. Sihtric followed, still clutching the bundle of furs and blanket in his arms. Inside, you swiftly illuminated the tent with the warm glow of candles, then located two cups and filled them with herbs and hot water. Turning back to your guest, who stood just a few steps from the entrance, you offered him a welcoming smile.

“Would you like to take a seat?” you asked, extending your arm with the cup towards Sihtric. He set the bundle on the ground and accepted the offered cup, but remained rooted to the spot. You watched as he wrapped his palms around the cup, which seemed almost small in his large hands. The intricate lines tattooed on his fingers caught your eye, and wondered if they held any special meaning, but you decided against asking.

Sihtric shifted nervously from one foot to another, lifting the cup to his lips for a small sip. Several times, he seemed on the verge of speaking, but each time, the words eluded him.

You observed him quietly for a moment, allowing the soothing silence to linger a little longer. It was evident that something weighed heavily on the young warrior's mind, but you didn’t want to press him.

Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you, prompting you to break the silence. “Is there something you want to say, Sihtric?” you inquired, offering him an encouraging smile.

“I… I’m not sure how to put it,” Sihtric muttered, his gaze flitting around as he took a tentative step back towards the entrance, as if contemplating a hasty departure. It wasn't the first time you noticed his tendency to seek an exit strategy.

With deliberate steps, you approached, trying not to appear too imposing, and halted directly in front of him, meeting his gaze with gentle assurance. “Go ahead, I’m all ears,” you prompted, offering him your full attention.

“I mean… I wanted to… I wanted to ask you… if maybe you and I… if I could…” His words stumbled over each other, his breath quickening, cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. “Would you mind if I… if I humped you?” he finally blurted out in a single breath, his gaze darting nervously to the ground.

“You what?” You choked on the hot liquid you had just brought to your lips, spluttering it onto Sihtric’s leather armour. The surprise and incredulity in your voice were difficult to mask.

"Gods… I… I like you. You are so beautiful and kind. I’ve never met someone like you and… and… please don’t be angry with me. I… I can give you everything I have, all my rings, look, I mean it,” he hastily removed his arm rings, recently gifted by Uhtred, and began pulling rings off his fingers, the cup in his hands hindering him until it finally fell to the ground.

You looked at Sihtric, unsure of how to respond. You should have felt offended, but the earnestness and embarrassment on his face suggested he hadn’t meant to offend you.

Sihtric stretched his arms toward you, presenting all his valuable belongings.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" you finally asked, meeting his gaze with a mix of surprise and concern.

"What? No, why? By the Gods, no…" Sihtric's voice faltered, revealing his nervousness. You noticed him taking a cautious step backward, edging closer to the exit. "I didn’t mean it that way… It’s just… back home, in Dunholm, the girls always asked for something in return to let me hump them. And ... and they said they enjoyed me. I didn’t have much to give, but I always found something, like a piece of cloth or a blanket, or fresh-baked bread. So I thought… I thought… since you're a lady… if I offered you silver…"

Sihtric gulped, clearly sensing your disapproving gaze. “The other warriors and Kjartan used to mock me for giving away all my belongings. I know they were having the girls even against their will, but my mom always told me that real strength isn't about hurting those weaker than you. I mean… back then when she was still around,” he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush like an unstoppable stream.

“Gods, now you are really angry with me. You must think poorly of me. I’m such a fool. Please forgive me, lady. I’m sorry. I better be going before I say something even dumber. It’s all yours, anyway.” 

Before you could respond, he hastily deposited all his silver and gold into your hands and turned to leave.

Staring down at the glimmering wealth he had thrust upon you, disbelief washed over you. "Hold on! You can’t just give me all this! Wait!" you protested, but Sihtric was already halfway out of the tent. "Stop, get back here," you commanded firmly, and to your relief, Sihtric froze in his tracks.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to offend you,” he said softly, turning back to face you, though he avoided meeting your gaze. "Please don't think badly of me. I'm not like my father, I never wanted to be."

It was just a tiny glimpse into his past life, but even that filled you with sadness and sympathy. Setting the unexpected gifts down on a nearby table, you made your way to the tent entrance, drawing the flaps closed behind you. You turned back to Sihtric, blocking his way out. You couldn’t leave it like this; you needed to have a talk. 

"Hey, I'm not angry. I'm just kinda surprised," you said, stepping closer.

"Surprised?" Sihtric let out a relieved sigh, but he still wouldn't look you in the eyes, his embarrassment clear even in the dim candlelight, with his cheeks flushed red.

You shook your head as you continued to observe him. He was undeniably good-looking, his muscular build catching your eye, and you couldn’t deny you felt attracted to him, but there was something about the young warrior that went beyond looks. You had already gathered that his life hadn’t been a smooth ride on a paved road, and you wondered how deep the scars in his heart ran, realising that the few visible ones he carried on his handsome face were merely the surface of a much larger tapestry of pain and suffering.

"I like you too, Sihtric, and I just want to know you better," you said, stepping forward slightly.

"You do?" disbelief and even suspicion were evident in his voice.

You moved with deliberate care, allowing Sihtric to observe every motion as you reached out and tenderly cupped his face. He inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering shut. Your thumb softly traced his cheek, and with a heartfelt sigh, Sihtric leaned into your touch, snuggling against your palm.

You pulled back your hand quickly, worried that he might misinterpret your gesture as anything more than a reassuring comfort to show you were not angry. The faint whimper that escaped his lips, followed by a sigh, cut through you sharply, echoing in your mind.

"Please... could you... do that once more?" Sihtric said under his breath, opening his eyes to meet yours, his expression filled with earnest pleading.

"Do what?" You paused, momentarily confused.

"That... that thing you just did," he replied.

"That thing? You mean when I caressed your cheek?" A gentle chuckle escaped you as you noticed the blush spreading across Sihtric's cheeks. "Like this?" you asked, reaching out again to cradle his jaw gently, your thumb skimming the corner of his mouth. Sihtric immediately responded, leaning into your touch, his eyes closing and his breathing deepening.

You closed the gap between you, gently tilting his face toward yours, and he instinctively followed, your foreheads lightly touching. "When was the last time someone touched you like this?" you asked, and although you suspected the answer, it still caught you off guard.

"I don't remember," he whispered back, his voice tinged with a faint tremor.

You weren’t really sure what made you do it; it wasn't something you'd planned. You just wanted to smooth over the awkwardness caused by his indelicate proposal and unexpected admissions, to let him know you weren't upset. It was evident the young warrior had no real understanding how inappropriate his offer actually was.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask, so much you wanted to understand. But instead of asking anything, something inside you took over. You found yourself standing on your tiptoes and kissing him, holding his face in your hands and pulling him closer.

Your lips brushed against Sihtric’s, a little rough from the wind, and you could taste the faint hint of ale and the tea you’d made earlier in his quick, shallow breaths. Your heart was racing, pounding so loud you could hear it in your ears, and a fluttery feeling filled your stomach. Sure, you’d kissed before—some who were charming and passionate, and some who definitely weren’t princes—but this somehow felt so different and it was a bit embarrassing, especially since Sihtric didn’t kiss you back.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." you stammered, pulling back abruptly, taken aback by your own spontaneity. So much for just wanting to talk to him. Sihtric stood there, eyes closed and hands at his sides, as still as a statue. The silence thickened around you as you tried to steady your pounding heart. It was perplexing; the young Dane had wanted to hump you, yet he didn’t even respond to a kiss. What the heck?

Just as the wave of embarrassment hit its peak and you considered asking him to leave, Sihtric’s hand reached out, gently cupping your cheek. "Please, can we... Can we try again?" he breathed, leaning in and tentatively pressing his lips against yours..

It was a soft and cautious kiss, his lips barely brushing yours, as tender as a feather's touch against skin—a gentle probe for warmth and connection. Feeling your head spin slightly, you kissed back with more intensity and passion, drawing a low groan from Sihtric.

Reluctantly, he pulled back, breaking the tender embrace of your lips but keeping his forehead pressed against yours. His breath was warm and ticklish against your face, his fingers trembling slightly as he continued to stroke your cheek with his thumb, his breathing shallow and unsteady.

"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure of what to say or do next.

"I... I do. I've never been kissed like that before," Sihtric admitted, his voice carrying a note of surprise mixed with sadness.

His response took you aback once more. "Did the girls in Dunholm require extra payment to let you kiss them?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

With his eyes still closed, Sihtric shook his head. "No, they never allowed me to kiss them. They never touched me the way you just did. Not even the women in the alehouse that Tekil paid for," he added, his voice fading into a whisper.

Without speaking, you reached out and drew him into a firm embrace, feeling his body stiffen briefly as if he might pull away. But you held on, your fingers gently combing through his hair. After a moment, his resistance eased, and Sihtric relaxed into your hold, burying his face in the crook of your neck. Slowly, his arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer against his chest.

For a while, you both just stood there, the warmth of your bodies wrapping around you like a soft blanket. His deep longing for attention and warmth, for genuine love and friendship—those simple joys that breathe life into existence tugged at your heart. You had found such treasures in Gisela's unconditional care and friendship years ago, and now you just tried to convey at least a small fraction of that same comfort with your gentle touches and steadfast embrace.

As Sihtric's breath warmed your neck, you felt his large hands pull you closer at the small of your back, his lips seeking yours again with a newfound passion. The kiss unfolded slowly, deeply, and you savoured each moment, losing yourself in the tenderness of his embrace. Your lips moved together in harmony, his hands tenderly stroking your back and hair, fanning the timid spark that had flickered to life at your first touch into a fervent blaze, making you crave for more.

Breaking the kiss elicited a soft whimper from Sihtric. "Come," you said in a low voice, gently taking his hand and leading the way. Sihtric followed,  a slight bewilderment crossing his face.

"I don’t want you to hump me," you began, looking up at him as he stood beside your fur-covered bed.

Sihtric’s eyes dropped to the ground once more. “It was so stupid of me to ask, I’m sorry…” he said hastily.

"Shh, listen to me," you interrupted, placing your index finger to Sihtric’s lips to silence him. "I want to show you something. Do you trust me?"

"Lady, I would trust you with my life," he replied, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an intensity that made you smile.

"Good, because I want to share something special with you, and I need you to trust me, to feel safe. I want to make love to you, Sihtric," you spoke softly, placing your hand on his chest and gently urging him backward onto the fur-covered bed. "Trust me," you repeated, and with wide eyes, Sihtric allowed himself to be guided down. 

Seated on the cushioned surface, he watched you with anticipation as you settled onto his lap, legs on either side of his thighs, straddling him. You pulled him into another kiss, and this time, you abandoned all restraint. Your fingers wove through his hair as your tongue eagerly explored his lips, seeking entry into his mouth. With a soft gasp, he yielded, allowing you to deepen the kiss, and you revelled in the soft sounds of pleasure that escaped Sihtric as your tongue explored his mouth, clashing against his. His hands tentatively wandered up your hips and along your back, drawing you nearer to him.

You traced a trail of soft kisses along his jaw, playfully nipping at him with your teeth. Each touch of your lips drew a low moan from Sihtric, encouraging you to linger on his sensitive neck and suckle at his skin, leaving behind a few lingering marks. Even through the layers of fabric between you, you could feel his arousal growing, prompting you to grind your hips against his, seeking friction.

Sihtric responded with a deliciously soft moan, his hips rising to meet yours, his breathing growing rapid. Your hands skillfully loosened the laces of his leather armour, but as you began to pull it away, he suddenly tensed, his hands catching yours to stop you. "You may not like what you see," he murmured softly.

Confused by his hesitation, you gently insisted, "Why? Sihtric, let me. I want to see you, to feel you. You told me you trust me," your voice soft but persuasive, and eventually, his resistance crumbled as he released your hands.

You couldn't help but gasp at the sight of his well-defined abdomen, muscles rippling under his skin, but it was the scars crisscrossing his torso that held your attention. Some were thin, precise lines across his chest, likely from a blade, while others, more rugged and widespread across his shoulders and back, were surely traces of a wip. Gently, you traced these marks with your fingertips, emotion rising within you.

"My goodness, Sihtric," you whispered, guiding his chin gently to keep his gaze from averting, and then you brought your lips to his in a tender kiss. "You should never feel ashamed of these. Wear your scars with pride. They're evidence of your strength and resilience. Don't let your past dictate your future," you murmured against his mouth, feeling the tension that had crept into his body begin to melt away.

He looked up at you with a shy smile and released a soft sigh, as he licked his lips before he drew you in closer. His kisses along your neck were soft and filled with gentleness and purpose, sending shivers down your spine, the feeling of his tongue against your skin igniting a growing desire between your legs.

With a chuckle, you asked, "Could you give me a hand?" and guided Sihtric's hands to the laces of your armour. His puzzled expression brought a smile to your lips as you nodded, and together you swiftly worked to remove your armour. You giggled at the sharp exhale that left him as your breasts bounced out from beneath your tunic. 

“You can touch them, and you can kiss them, just be gentle,” you encouraged with a smile.

“You are so beautiful,” Sihtric uttered softly, his hands hesitantly cupping your breasts. You arched your back with a soft sigh as his lips wrapped around your hardened nipple and gently suckled on it, hands caressing your bare back. 

“Yes, just like that,” you didn’t even try to muffle the moan that tore through you, your fingers tangling in his soft and thick hair, as he turned his attention to your other nipple, while his hands traced down your spine to your buttocks, squeezing them.

Your hands found their way to the hem of his breeches, unlacing them and slipping inside. Sihtric groaned at your touch, his breath picking up rapidly, as you stoked his already fully hard length. 

Sihtric effortlessly lifted you, his grip firm as he flipped you onto the furs and settled himself between your thighs.

With eager breaths, you shed the last remnants of clothing, allowing your bodies to meld together. Sihtric's tender kisses and gentle touch on your bare skin setting ablaze a fiery sensation within you.

"Come closer," you mumbled, drawing Sihtric into a tight embrace, cradling him between your legs. Your fingers traced gentle paths over his scars as you savoured the sensation of his warm, muscular form against yours. You listened intently to his heavy breathing, feeling the heat of his body seeping into your bones, while his fingers grazed your skin and his nose nestled against your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I’ve heard the pleasure one can bestow with the tongue could be indescribable, but I’ve never done it before. Will you teach me?” he asked and you almost choked on your breath as Sihtric’s lips started to trail a path of tender kisses down your naked body. 

“Oh, Sihtric,” you gasped as his hot breath hit your core. You reached out, grabbing his hair, and he moaned as you guided him, where you craved for him. 

“Yes, here, use your tongue, pretty boy. Oh, gods,” the first laps of his tongue against your pulsing bundle made you squirm and whine. “Just keep going. You are so good ... oh, oh please don’t stop … it feels godly … you are made for this,” you mewled, rolling your hips against Sihtric’s face. 

You heard his breath stutter with every praise you gave him, as he got more and more eager to please you, his tongue alternating between quick and soft licks and long and teasing wipes, the soft moans leaving him telling you how much he was enjoying this.

Your grip in Sihtric’s hair tightened as you felt your climax quickly building up and you tugged him closer to your perl. “Here, suck on it,” you panted, and your head snapped back as Sihtric’s lips encircled your oversensitive nub, sucking gently at it. 

The lewd sounds, that rolled over your lips, spurred him on, each lap of his hot tongue sending waves of increasing pleasure through your body, each swirl around your clit making you whimper and whine.

“Put your finger inside me,” you mewled between heavy breaths and whined out loud as Sihtric did as told, sucking harder on your clit. “Oh by Freya and Freyr, yess, yessss, you are such a good boy,” you tugged harder on his hair, pushing your hips up against his eager mouth and Sihtric groaned in pleasure against your cunt.

You had no idea whether he knew what he was doing or was it pure instinct, as he added another finger and started moving them in and out of you, thumb rubbing your clit. His tongue kept lapping through your folds, and after a few thrusts the pleasure exploded within you as he pushed you over the edge. You moaned his name into the silence of the night, as you came undone, tugging on Sihtric’s hair and gasping for breath. 

With a satisfied smile on his lips he kissed his way back to your lips, your eyes glassy and chest heaving heavily as you slowly came down from your high.

“You are so delicious,” he murmured quietly, kissing you deeply and letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I thought you had never done it before,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck, still floating between this world and the afterglow of the probably most intense orgasm you had ever had.  

“You are such a good teacher and I learn quickly,” he murmured between kisses.

You could feel his hard cock pressing against your belly, and you let your hand wander down, your fingers sliding over the sensitive tip, gathering precum and spreading it all over his rigid length with slow sensual strokes. 

Sihtric moaned at your touch, pressing his nose against your skin, his breath getting more and more rugged with each movement of your hand. 

“How do you want me?” you asked, putting a bit more pressure in your hand and eliciting a breathless groan from Sihtric. 

“I … I want to see you,” he whispered and another moan escaped his parted lips, as you continued your ministrations, and he eagerly bucked his hips into your hand. 

“I want to look into your eyes and see you falling apart on my cock,” he murmured in your ear, his voice hoarse and breathing uneven, as he struggled to control himself. “Will you let me? Please, say that you want me. Say that you want me to pleasure you.” 

“Of course I want you, silly boy. You are almost too good to be true. Come, take me, pleasure me, I’m yours,” you breathed in his ear, guiding him at your entrance. 

“I want to be good. I want to be a good boy for you,” Sihtric breathed against your lips. 

You eagerly rolled your hips into his. ”I just want your cock inside me, good boy,” you chuckled.

You both moaned in unison as Sithric slowly pushed himself inside you until the very end of his shaft, his thick and long cock filling and stretching you perfectly. You spread your legs wider to welcome him. Buried deep inside you, he stilled, letting his lips run along your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy open mouthed kisses, burning on your skin and leaving you yearning for more, as he waited for you to adjust to him. 

His large palm ghosted your skin on your side, trailing down to your thigh, as he pushed your leg up and dragged his cock out of you before making his first thrust. Moaning breathlessly, you arched your back against the soft furs beneath you, digging your nails into Sihtric’s shoulders. 

His hips started to move against yours as he fucked you so torturously slowly but thoroughly, pushing himself deep inside you. Holding on to his broad shoulders, you met each thrust moving up against him, tensing your inner muscles and savouring every inch of him brushing against your pulsing walls. 

Your fingers found their way back into Sihtric’s hair, and you pulled hard on them, a smile tugging on your lips from the delicious moan it elicited from Sihtric.

“Use me, mark me, I’m yours,” Sihtric groaned, pulling out of you and thrusting back in one smooth go. “Please, I want to be yours,” he begged, and you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving red marks in his pale flesh. 

“More, Sihtric,” a needy whine left your lips. “I need more of you.”

With a low groan, Sihtric fastened his pace, hips pounding against yours. You gazed up at him, a strange feeling curling in your stomach. You felt safe. You felt loved and adored, and so wanted like never before in your whole life. 

You were in his power, pinned down beneath his muscular body as he fucked you into the soft furs of your bed, his soft whimpers like a music to your ears, as he begged you to pull harder on his hair, to use him, to mark him, to allow him to please you. You savoured the pretty and desperate sounds he made in your ear, finding them both beautiful and so arousing, your climax approaching with each snap of his hips against yours.

“Do you enjoy me?” Sihtric uttered quietly in your ear, his voice quivering slightly.

“Yes, by the gods, I do,” you muttered, your eyes starting to roll back in your head, feeling the pleasure intensify within you. Sihtric let out a low growl at your words, his breath catching.

“Please, say it again,” he pleaded.

“You’re doing so well,” you praised him. “You feel godly within me. Even Thor itself couldn’t bring me more pleasure.” Sihtric whimpered in response and you felt his cock twitching inside you. 

His moans grew louder and more fevered, his thrusts getting harder and deeper, breath panting and hot against your neck. You felt almost like drowning, gasping for breath from the intensity of pleasure building up within you.

“Such a good boy for me,” you murmured, gripping his hair tightly and eliciting another moan from him. Sihtric’s thrusts started to get sloppy, his moans more heavy with each thrust. 

“I’m so close,” he whimpered, his body tensing, “I will not last much longer.”

You took his hand and guided it to your perl. “You know what to do,” you breathed and Sihtric’s fingers instantly started to rub and circle it. That was all you needed, the last touch to push you over the edge. You felt your walls starting to clench around him, your head snapped back and you came with Sihtric’s name on your lips, shuddering from the waves of pure bliss washing over you. 

A few thrusts later Sihtric pulled out, and you felt his hot seed painting your belly as he groaned in the crook of your neck. He slumped down beside you, his breath heavy and laboured. For a moment you both just lay there, coming down from your highs. 

You turned your head toward him, watching his handsome features. You had never had a more gentle and attentive lover, so concentrated on your pleasure instead of chasing his own. You wanted to pull him closer, to let him feel the same. You wanted him to feel loved and accepted, and cared for just as he had made you feel, but before you managed to do anything Sihtric abruptly jumped to his feet, glancing around the tent. Grabbing a cloth and dampening it with warm water from the kettle, he returned to the bed and carefully cleaned you up.

You watched, your eyes widening, as Sihtric scrambled to gather his scattered clothes from the ground and began to hurriedly dress. He fumbled with his breeches, hopping on one leg in an awkward dance.

"Sihtric, what are you doing?" you asked, a lump forming in your throat. The bliss of moments before now replaced by a wave of embarrassment and a sinking feeling in your stomach. You tried to catch his eye, but he kept his gaze firmly on his clothes, avoiding yours.

"You don’t have to say it. I know. I’m leaving," he stammered, clumsily trying to pull on his boots while clutching his wrinkled clothes.

"Sihtric, look at me," you insisted, sitting up on your heels to face him better.

Finally meeting your gaze, confusion was written all over Sihtric's face.

"So, you just wanted to hump me and now you're leaving just like that, without a word? Like a coward?" you asked, your voice tinged with hurt and disbelief. You didn’t even remember the last time you had cried, the wetness suddenly pearling in the corners of your eyes taking you by surprise. 

"What? No, it's not like that," he replied, clearly taken aback. "You mean you want me to stay?" His voice was filled with astonishment, leaving you momentarily speechless.

A tense silence hung between you, both of you regarding each other with bewilderment. Sihtric let his clothes fall to the ground as he approached and slowly crawled back onto the bed towards you.

Noticing the tears starting to form in your eyes, his expression softened. "You really want me to stay?" he asked gently, cupping your face in his hands before pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Please don't cry. I'm not worth a single tear of yours," Sihtric whispered, his fingers gently caressing your back and threading through your hair. "I would do anything for you. Just say the word, and I'll move mountains. I… I didn't dare to hope... I mean look at you. And look at me—I'm nobody. Why would you want me to stay?"

"Sihtric, just be quiet," you murmured, allowing yourself to sink deeper into the warmth of his embrace.

The next morning, you awoke still nestled in Sihtric's arms. As the first rays of sunlight filtered through the tent, he stirred, slowly opening his eyes. Seeing you next to him, a soft smile spread across his face.

"You're still here, it wasn’t a dream," he murmured, his voice filled with relief and a hint of hope.

"Yes, I'm still here," you replied, your voice gentle yet firm, as you traced a finger tenderly along his jawline, "And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

You moved closer, trapping him between your thighs and propping yourself up on your elbow. Leaning in, you kissed his lips softly.

A rush of emotion crossed Sihtric's face as he pulled you closer, and you gasped, feeling his hardening cock pressing against your inner thigh.  

"I would do anything to hold you in my arms forever," he confessed, his eyes locking with yours, filled with sincerity and a deep longing.

"I think I know how you can convince me," you said softly with a tender smile, and you kissed him again, deeply and passionately, cradling his face in your palm. 

Sihtric's smile grew even brighter as he tightened his arms around you, flipping you over and pressing you into the furs with the weight of his body. 

“Tell me, my lady,” he hummed, his lips trailing a hot path down your neck. “I'm all ears, how can I please you today?”

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[hminnj]

Unckuna/reader (he's very dear to my heart), mostly uncle nephew banter tbh, i needa get dividers lowkey, very short lil drabble

-

Sukuna thinks he's lost his mind.

He means it figuratively, obviously. But at this point he's sure he should've physically lost it already.

His nephew- of which he is currently babysitting- is currently on his couch, not a care in the world, half empty family sized bag of chips that was unopened not too long ago (fatface), kicking his feet like an adolescent boy in love, greasy fingers on the remote, and scrolling through youtube shorts on the tv???

Oh and worst of all he forgot to mention, the brat is wearing shoes.

The fact that he's even related to this thing makes him want to kill everyone else in the room and then himself.

"Itadori Yuji..." Sukuna seethes, it takes everything in him to not rip the brat's skeleton right out of his skin. He thinks it would be easy, if only a certain three people would let him (a shame, truly).

Yuji spares him a glance (the disrespect).

"Oh whats up unc"

"And what do you think you're doing?" The older of the two walks over and blocks the view of the tv, glaring down with his hands on his hips.

Yuji stares for a moment before opening his stupid food hole (as Sukuna describes it), "Have you ever seen that one meme, no one looks good from below? Well you're the version where they-"

Sukuna promptly picks him up by his foot, shaking him as a few chip bits fall off Yuji's shirt, "I literally just cleaned the house you freeloading fiend. Have you seen what a mess you've made?"

"You clean the house everyday you freak. Now put me down! I swear I was gonna clean up afterwards anyways." Yuji attempts to wiggle his way out of Sukuna's grip, he gets nowhere (predictably).

"Brat. You don't even know where the vacuum is, were you planning on picking them up one by one?"

"Ugh you're such a housewife, if I didn't know any better I'd assume you- MMM"

The sound of the code being put into the front door quickly stops Sukuna who shoves his free hand into Yuji's face, effectively shutting him up as well.

Sukuna grins when he sees you walk in, holding Yuji as if he were a first place catch for the annual bass fishing competition.

The sight makes you pause and contemplate your life decisions.

"Sukuna... put Yuji down, all the blood's rushing to his head."

Yuji is dropped immediately.

"OWWWWWWWW"

Your eyes trail around the living space and then back to the two children, "Does someone want to explain what's happening? And why there are shoe tracks in my house?" You make eye contact with your husband (who practically regresses 15 years in age when your nephew is around), he looks at you then uses his middle finger to point at Yuji.

Said boy, still recovering on the floor, whines, "Mann why can't I have a cool wine aunt and normal uncle?"

"Yuji if I were a wine aunt I wouldn't even be your aunt. Now are you gonna clean up this mess or should I make you?"

"On it! Whatever you say ma'am!" Yuji scrambles away after saluting and then pops back up from the hallway, realizing something crucial.

"Where are the cleaning supplies again?"

You sigh.

.

Yuji's finished with cleaning when he joins (intrudes, in Sukuna's words) you and his uncle on the couch, another episode of criminal minds running in the background.

You've changed from your work clothes into something more comfortable, snuggled into Sukuna's side as you start, "You know, if Spencer existed in real life I'd consider leaving you for him."

The tattooed man can only cringe in disgust at your behavior, "We're literally married, woman. You would leave me for that??"

He gives you and the tv an incredulous look. You can only giggle at his reaction, "You're like a child sometimes." His disapproval worsens, and you consider continuing to tease him but go with your better judgement (before he decides not to cook dinner, even though he always does anyways).

"I'm sorry hubby, forgive me?" Sukuna scoffs but accepts the affection anyways, he always does.

Yuji's voice interrupts the moment, "Ew you guys are so nasty (his parents are way worse), but speaking of children... when am I gonna get a cousin?"

The young boy can only watch as you two glance at each other then back at him, casually dropping an "Oh, Soon" then moving on completely. It takes him a second to process.

"WHAT."

-

unckuna my love

reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated :]

thank you for reading, have a blessed week

not fully proofread or edited

[leighsartworks216]

Hiii! Can i requst an astarion drabble where they're laying in his tent and he has in one hand a book and the other hand is holding tav's hand

And then while tav slowly drifts off to sleep while astarion is still reading they start like playing with his hand and massaging it and like kissing his palm gently before cuddling closer to him and falling asleep?

Thank you! Your writing is so wonderful i litarely don't stop smiling when i read it

I wrote this while so tired sleepy oops

Warnings: none

Word Count: 491

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You never really noticed Astarion’s hands before. Well, you noticed them, I mean, they’re nice hands, but you never admired them before.

They were long and nimble, calloused from his weapons despite his efforts to keep them smooth. His nails were always perfectly trimmed and rounded. Sometimes he’d have polish on, but more often than not they were left plain. Prominent veins danced all the way up his arm. They were beautiful. How could you not stop to admire them? Even now, when the moon was high in the sky and you should be fast asleep, you had to push off rest just a little longer to take in their beauty.

Astarion pays you little attention as he flips through his book. It’s propped up easily in one hand, pinky and thumb keeping the pages open while the rest keep the book upright. His thumb tucks under the edge smoothly, as though he’d done this a million times before when in reality this was a rather new skill, and glides the page across to the other side, where his pinky captures it. The movements are so clean, you almost get lost in them.

But your eyes are getting heavy, and you aren’t quite prepared to be lulled to sleep just yet.

You take his hand up in both of yours and feel along each finger with one hand while the other massages a thumb into his palm. The motions are imprecise and inconsistent, but he relaxes into them anyway. He turns his head to watch you.

Next you pull his hand up to your lips. You kiss each finger, starting at the pads and down to each knuckle in turn. It almost tingles. He’s amazed how… reverent your kisses seem to be. Like each one holds a prayer, and by kissing him you are burying it under his skin for safe keeping. Once you’ve kissed all his fingers, you open up his palm and plant a kiss there, too.

You briefly press it to your cheek before you allow it to fall comfortably back between you. You wrap your arms around his in a hug, and trail your hand down until you can lace your fingers with his once more. You bury your face into his shirt, take a deep breath, and almost instantly fall asleep.

He should go right back to reading. He certainly could now that he wasn’t distracted by your odd affections. But he lays his book open-side down beside him, and rolls over to curl around you. You mindlessly rewrap yourself around his torso while he tucks a hand around your back and cradles your neck with the other, effortlessly guiding your head to rest against his neck.

He presses a kiss to your head, a silent prayer of his own, thanking you for being so gentle with him, and closes his eyes. While he does not need sleep, he happily indulges in your warmth until morning.

---

Tag List:

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[acourtofclutter]

Nightlight (Part 1 of 4)

"All the sleepless nights... keeping on the night light." - Laufey.

Pairing: Rhysand / Night Court Emissary! Reader

Format(s) and Word Count: Headcanons and Drabbles (though it reads like a one-shot due to the drabbles length), 998 words.

Summary: You managed to stop Rhysand from going to Amarantha’s party by himself, having threatened to tell the rest of the Inner Circle if he didn’t at least take you, his emissary. But you hadn’t predicted the spells that Amarantha had up her sleeve, especially not the one that’d turn you into an old and forgotten lesser fae.

Tags: Hurt / Little To No Comfort, Brief Depictions of Violence and Torment, Set During Under The Mountain

Notes: My first ACOTAR post (not including the memes, though they may cheer you up if you need a laugh)!

Update: The second part can be read here, thank you for your support!

Rhysand was careful not to tell any of the Inner Circle about Amarantha’s party invitation, not even his brothers, but you noticed how he slowly became distant. He assigned everyone various tasks that he said were important, but they had been time-consuming and were also restricted to Velaris’ walls, not even Hewn’s.

Your tasks consisted of drafting negotiations, and gathering information from multiple libraries, but the Mother had been on your side then, because you managed to complete your tasks a day before Rhysand had planned to leave, his shoulders tense and his knuckles pale before you saw a glimpse of bloodlust in his eyes.

“...Rhys, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” He did not respond, and had turned his back on you before you spoke again. “Are you going somewhere? I don’t remember you telling me about any upcoming meetings with any of the High Lord-” He turned around at those words and reached into your head, your mental shields being torn apart when he tried to override your mind – but Amren had taught you how to protect yourself well, if not for a few moments against your High Lord. “You’re not supposed to be here,” He whispered harshly, gritting his teeth. “No one’s meant to be here, you should be doing those tasks I assigned-” “I’m your emissary, I’ve been doing similar tasks for centuries!” You closed your eyes and swore as you felt him, felt his claws tear down your last line of defence. Your heart was racing while you tried to think of something, anything, to make him loosen his grasp, at least for a moment. You’d never had to fight him like this, it usually involved future plans with the Illyrian camps or Keir, but nothing like this. “I don’t know what you plan on doing,” You fought to breathe, your eyes meeting his pained ones. “But I swear on the Mother, if you don’t at least take me with you-” You took another deep breath before you grabbed the front of his black tunic and pulled him closer. “-I will scream until you break my shield completely or until someone, most likely Azriel, will hear me.” A moment passed, then two, before his claws drew back.  “...Don’t make me regret this," were the last words he said before he gripped your wrist and winnowed you to Hewn City, where the Court of Nightmares waited for him to lead the way to Amarantha’s party.

Rhysand used his magic to make your hair and clothes match his attire before the entire court strode past Amarantha’s stone doors and into her chamber. His warriors were allowed to do as they pleased, but you didn’t leave his side when he stared at Amarantha with his eyes unblinking.

When Amarantha had made glasses of wine appear in everyone’s hands, you could not shake the feeling that something was wrong, especially when she revelled in the sight of the High Lords raising their wine glass and placing it to their lips. Rhysand had taken a full sip of his before you grabbed his arm.

“Stop drinking it,” You turned to Rhysand and smiled, speaking through your teeth as your grip tightened, but he was lost in his head and couldn’t see or hear you. “The wine, I think there’s something in the-” You felt the magic leave the room before you saw it, saw how the other High Lords seemed to look dull and tired while Amarantha became more lively. Rhysand’s eyes finally met yours, his eyes wide and caught off-guard when he realised what was happening before he entered your mind for a single second. “I’m sorry,” he said in your mind, then you felt it – felt your mind being overridden by his, all thoughts and memories of Velaris, of the Inner Circle, misting away until all that was left was nothing more than Rhysand, Hewn City, and the Court of Nightmares.  You could see that he was using the remains of his magic to cast a shield and send a message out to someone, but you weren’t sure who, not when half of the Court of Nightmares collapsed a moment later. Then you felt Amarantha’s eyes on you, her eyes narrowing when she looked at how you held onto Rhysand’s arm and how he had barely touched his glass of wine. She smiled, and you found yourself standing before her in the blink of an eye, your heart pounding in your ears when she raised her hand. “I’ve been meaning to try this spell out on someone – you’ll do perfectly.” One moment you were standing, the next you were convulsing on the floor, screaming from heartrending pain as your body started to shrink, your bones and organs compressing and curling inwards. Your wings were next, and you were certain you were crying out for Rhysand, for people you couldn’t name when they cracked and bent into new shapes. Your tears dripped onto the marble floor until the spell stopped, the transformation complete. You couldn’t move, but you could hear someone walk towards you and pick you up like you weighed no more than a feather, as your body laid on a soft piece of leather. When you had the strength to raise your head, your eyes managed to find Rhysand’s, who looked completely shattered. Why did he look so far away? “You look much better,” You heard a voice from above you, and you raised your head further to see Amarantha smiling down at you, her teeth resembling headstones made out of pearls.  “Why, I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever seen faeries like this, they’ve been wiped off the lands for centuries now.” You looked at your bare exposed body and turned around to look at your wings, now thin and delicate like tulle. You then looked down at where you laid, slowly realising that you were in the palms of Amarantha's hands. And when you cried, you could only hear the sound of a miniature bell leave your mouth as you clawed at your throat. “Yes, you look much better as a pixie.”

[storyofmychoices]

Go on, feel it 😏

The always wonderful @weetlebeetle has indulged me yet again with this latest Mal x Daenarya art! I'm Daenarya's just having a lot of feelings about Mal's armor still. This latest commission is inspired by these two memes [one, two].

There may be a silly drabble below the cut based on this.

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Go on, feel it 😏

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!MC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow II Word Count: <400 Rating: Teen, it's them A/N: I'm not sure where this fits in right now, I'm setting it in my original universe even though it's based on Blades 2 armor. Once I see how Mal and Daenarya are after they reunite I will figure out how this fits into things.

Synopsis: Mal makes an offer Daenarya can't refuse.

Located in a small town just beyond the border of the royal city of White Tower, a rustic tavern can be found waiting to embrace weary travelers or those seeking a night to remember, or perhaps, one to forget.

The tavern's weathered wooden beams whispered secrets of travelers long past. The laughter of tales of yesterday echoed in the timeworn surface of the tables where tankards of frothy ale stood to witness the many toasts and moments of camaraderie that filled the air. Tonight, it played host to two well-known adventurers seeking a moment to get lost with one another.

The soft, amber glow of flickering candles bathed the room in a gentle, honeyed-colored light, casting warm shadows that danced in the recesses of the room.

Mal swaggered back to their table, drinks in hand, his new armor leaving his sculpted biceps fully exposed. The glow of the tavern light only accentuated them further, glistening off the smooth surface of his tanned skin. He noticed Daenarya watching closely, her eyes dancing with mischief.

"Like what you see?" Mal raised an eyebrow challengingly as he placed their drinks down. 

Daenarya sipped her ale, her gaze narrowing on him. "Definitely." 

Mal stifled a chuckle and puffed out his chest. He curled his forearm inward, flexing his thick muscles, showing off his impressive strength. "Go on, feel it," he urged, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Don't mind if I do." Daenarya chewed the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she rose from her seat to meet him. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes as her hands skimmed over the contours of his well-formed chest. Her touch was gentle as she cupped his pectoral muscles, giving them her undivided attention.

His bravado faltered beneath her touch. He should have known better, but that's what he liked about her. She always challenged him.

His gaze locked with hers, their eyes darkening as they met. "I take it that it's to your liking?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "Very much so."

His flexing arm fell to his side as he swept her into a deep dip, kissing the smirk of satisfaction off her face. 

As the two parted, their gaze lingered together a moment longer before they erupted into shared laughter. It would definitely be a night to remember as all nights together usually were.

And because I couldn't settle on the background, have one more... Daenarya just can't keep her hands to herself, no matter where they are.

[therentyoupay]

HI!!!

For the one word drabble prompt: no for Jelsa, please!

You're amazing! ❤️

Elsa, with her fingers absently twisting the delicate satin of her gloves in her lap and with her gaze lost in the pastoral scene beyond the window, found that she could no longer keep her insistent, fluttering thoughts from drifting toward—no, she could not, would not, entertain the notion that Mr. Overland, with his infuriating charm and careless disregard for propriety, had, against every societal expectation, captured any piece of her heart in any way whatsoever—utterly absurd, she told herself... though, perhaps, with diminishing conviction.

♡ image ♡ ♡ askbox meme - thank you, my love!!

[daisyishedwig]

Writing meme about me!

@lusthurts tagged me over two weeks ago but I have been so busy with work I haven't had a chance to answer it.

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Unofficially I just liked messing around with the characters in the media I consumed, I've always had a habit of pausing in my watching or reading to daydream and theorize about what could happen, or maybe just what my brain wished would happen and so at a very young age I started writing those ideas down.

At some point when I was twelve or so I discovered FF.Net through the Supernatural fandom, I don't remember exactly how. But that was when I went from writing Stargate and Inuyasha fanfiction purely for myself and started writing and publishing Supernatural fanfiction. I really love the weekly 100 word drabble challenges that fandom had back in the day and most of my oldest surviving fic are for those prompts as most of my other stuff I've deleted over the years.

2. How many fandoms have you written in?

So Glee is obviously my most prolific, and then Supernatural would be just behind that. In the past I've also written for Stargate, Inuyasha, Naruto, Buffy, Harry Potter, The Vampire Diaries, Doctor Who, and Takin' Over the Asylum, but most of those have been deleted and lost over the years. I do have unpublished WIPs for Stranger Things, OMGcheckplease, The Real O'Neals, Captive Prince, Magnus Archives, Hatchetfield, and probably more, no idea if any of those will actually see the light of day though.

3. How many years have you been writing fanfiction?

I've been publishing it for about fifteen years but writing it for probably twenty which is an insane number to type out. Like I know I've been writing for pretty much my whole life but seeing it in words puts it in a new perspective. But yeah, my earliest posted work is from 2009.

4. Do you read or write more fanfiction?

It depends on the era? Currently I've been writing more fic than reading, purely because I've been focused on reading so many regular books at the moment (my roommate and I are in a race to read the most books this year, and I'm currently winning, but the rules are that I can't count anything that isn't already on StoryGraph and most of the fics I read are not).

5. What is one way you've improved as a writer?

I think my ability to write banter has improved a lot. I've been writing for so long that everything has improved, but the most noticeable to me is my dialogue, especially when it's witty. I used to struggle so hard with that even though I loved good banter in stories. It's part of why I used to not write Kurtbastian, because banter is so integral to their relationship, but I've been getting more and more comfortable with it .

6. What's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I'm going to ditto Lusthurts Ohio geography, which is especially frustrating considering how much Glee itself ignores Ohio geography so there's this line of making it not sound completely stupid while also remaining true to Glee's own absolute disregard for it. Also songs and movies that came out in 2012 specifically since I write a lot of stuff set in season 4 of Glee and I try to keep the media I reference contemporary.

7. What's your favorite type of comment to receive on your work?

I love all comments! But if I had to chose my favorites it's probably anytime that I drop subtle hints or foreshadow something and people pick it up and point it out, either on the original read through or during a reread. I also love when people point out symbolism I didn't intend or realize I was making.

8. What's the most fringe trope/topic you write about?

Idk I kinda write a lot of infidelity and toxic relationship stuff. Seblaine is the main ship I write for nowadays, and the nature of their relationship lends itself to a lot of infidelity in their process of getting together. I also just love writing angst, so even when I'm writing established relationships, they end up being sort of toxic throughout especially given the traits of both characters. I just find it more fun and probable to write a slightly toxic relationship than a 100% healthy one.

(I did not intend to just leave Lusthurts answer for this one, but also, ditto. I love the messy toxic relationships, they've always intrigued me and they're so fun to sink your teeth into. I also love writing a lot of polyamory, which idk how fringe it is nowadays but I've been trying to breakaway from the throuple mold and branch out into more interesting, complex, and realistic polycules)

9. What is the hardest type of story for you to write?

I tend to stick very much to the emotional side of things, so stories that get too physical or actiony are the ones I struggle with. Since I've been reading more I've been getting better but it's still not great.

10. What is the easiest type?

Hurt no comfort, lol. Like I do enjoy writing the comfort but sometimes my brain gets hung up on it not being realistic, things getting better too quickly, things like that. But it gets less anxious about just having the angst, even with no happy ending.

11. Where do you do your writing? What platform? When?

I tend to write on my couch, I do like going to the library down the road when I really want to focus, but usually I just write in my living room. I usually just write to google drive, I'm interested in alternatives but I've been using google since jr high so I'm just very used to it and it has so many years of documents. And I just write whenever, but usually in the evening after work, but really whenever I have time.

12. What is something you've been too nervous/intimidated to write, but would love to write one day?

I love ensemble fics and all the distinct personalities of the different characters and I would love to write one that focuses on many characters one day. I'm kind of trying that with my Season 2 AU but that still mostly focuses on Kurt, Blaine, Sebastian, and Sam, which is exactly who most of my fics focus on, so I'm not sure if it will fit full ensemble status by the time I'm done.

13. What made you choose your username?

So Daisy is an old nickname of Darren Criss' (he's talked about it in a few interviews, how he was studying abroad in Italy and when you say his initials in an Italian accent it sounds like Daisy) and when he was in Hedwig and the Angry Inch the username DarrenisHedwig was already taken but I thought DaisyisHedwig would be fun and I've been it ever since.

Oh boy, I'm going to tag @kurtsascot, @calsvoid, @fallevs, @cryscendo

@bitbybitwrites, @annepi-blog, @sperrywink, and @backslashdelta

[differenteagletragedy]

your olba drabbles are singlehandedly fueling my obsession and i look forward to them every day thank u sm!! i was thinking of the olba boys comforting you through finals cram time (....im not projecting no.......) like cove would absolutely be the meme of the bf stopping at the library to drop off a bagel and a kiss on the head for you

I love projection requests! Self inserts are self care, spread the word!

-- You know that moment when you thought you lost your homework and Cove gave you his because your schoolwork is important to you and you're important to him? Yeah, that.

-- If you go to school together, then you are the most important thing. You might need to remind him that he needs to study too.

-- He's going to be studying with you, it doesn't matter if you're in the same classes.

-- Will stay up as long as you want to help. Will also go over your flash cards with you as long as you want without even thinking about complaining once.

-- Please remember to take breaks too! If you want him to take you for a drive or to the store or something, just ask.

-- Going to that one restaurant that's open 24 hours in the middle of the night with Cove because he's a hungry boy and you're not done going over your notes yet.

-- But can you even imagine Cove in a Waffle House lol

-- Derek has got this under control. Snacks, drinks, notebooks, highlighters, index cards, etc. etc. etc.

-- Cove will get you snacks, but Derek will make you eat because he takes care of you like that.

-- He is also against the concept of pulling an all nighter because you need your sleep. Will tell you facts about how your brain processes information while you're asleep and how beneficial it is.

-- Derek is the ultimate hype man. "You're going to do great! You've got this!"

-- If at all possible, he's walking you to your classroom and waiting for you after to provide support.

-- Fist bumps all day long.

-- Baxter is totally fine with an all nighter, he prefers it. If you need coffee, he has plenty of coffee.

-- He's going to support you and cheer you on, but he's also going to remind you that one test isn't going to determine your future if you get too stressed out.

-- Will force you to take a break to do something fun.

-- He'll also probably be too flirty, like shut up Baxter, this isn't the time.

-- Unless you want it to be, I can't tell you what to do.

-- Will have something planned for after finals are over! Maybe it's a little trip, maybe it's a nice cozy night in, but he's got something up his sleeve!

[nocompromise-noregrets]

For the WIP meme, please tell me about the King Arthur ones!! What with one thing and another, if I do manage to do anything for KA week at this rate, it'll probably be late coming, but I'd like to hear about yours! :D

woohoo! thank you! So, I am a little bit flailing about and short of time (Pride Month crept up on me as it always does so the last week has been devoted to getting my bingo card finished) so I thought I'd go for a series of drabbles/double-drabbles/triple-drabbles and having knuckled down yesterday and this morning, so far I've got *checks* 'beginnings', 'loyalty', 'home' and a little bit of 'loss'. They've picked up a bit of a language-theme (clearly my chewing over whether to do linguistics or translation next with the OU is coming through) where the Sarmatians speak their own language between themselves to annoy the Romans and reinforce the bond between them, and Gawain is marvelling at how many different words the Britons have for 'rain', and thinking of his little brothers, all of whom he has lost by the time the Bishop shows up. I have so many headcanons for this lot, including that Gareth, Gaheris and Agravain were also pressed into service at the Wall five (G&G) and ten (A) years after Gawain was, but none of them make it to the end of their service (*wails*), and I am absolutely going to be getting some nice understated Gawain/Galahad in there too, and some Dagonet-and-Lucan feels for 'sacrifice' :D

wheeee! very much looking forward to yours whenever you're able to do them, late submissions are also super welcome! <333333

anyone else fancy asking me about any of my WIPs? :D :D :D

[melisusthewee]

Fanfic Writer Questions

I was tagged in this by both @dreadfutures and @blarrghe ! I did this once a few years ago, so it's interesting to see what's changed since then.

Tagging forward: @theluckywizard @greypetrel @darethshirl @natliecole @if-not-now-tell-me-when @madame-fear

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 35, though I believe 5 of them are artwork only for exchanges and not actually fics.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 87, 413 words

3. What fandoms do you write for? In my AO3 era: Hockey RPF; Dragon Age; La Sociedad de la Nieve/Society of the Snow Pre-AO3 (the ff.net/LJ era): Digimon Adventure, Harry Potter, The Lord of the Rings, Doctor Who, Beatles RPF, a little bit of DC/Marvel

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 1. The Tang of Liquor On His Tongue (Dragon Age) 2. The Dreamer Sets the Rules (Dragon Age) 3. mala suledin nadas (Dragon Age) 4. Smut Challenge 2: War Table Boogaloo (Dragon Age) 5. Mañana (LSDLN/SotS)

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Or at least I try to! There have been a couple of times where I've gotten overwhelmed or have been busy and fallen behind. But I try really hard to reply to every single comment I get.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? That's hard to pick. I think that a lot of my fic endings lean more towards catharsis than raw angst. Perhaps "Lathbora Viran" is the angstiest ending because it concludes a trilogy of fics about Solas' spirit friend Wisdom and ends with the implication that Wisdom became corrupted into the Regret demon that appears in Skyhold in "Tevinter Nights".

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Any of my romantic fics, I guess? If I had to pick one then I would probably say "Nothing Else Than What is Now" which was the extremely long one shot that led to all my Quinn Trevelyan/Horatio Morris nonsense. It originally wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, but about midway through writing it I changed my mind and even though OC / OC is extremely niche in just about any fandom, I'm still glad I did it.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not yet. We'll see if that changes now that I've mentioned I've written LSDLN fic.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yep. 2 out of my top 5 fics are smut, and 2 more out of the top 5 have implied sex. I suppose that says I must be good at it. I don't really know what kind of smut I write since every smutfic I've written has been either a challenge or a prompt fill or a gift. I think I'm an example of that meme of "the 2000 word blow job is an important piece of character development". I really lean into tricking you into having emotions and feelings and getting introspective inside characters' heads while they're naked and getting down dirty. Come for the smut, stay for the emotional feelings!

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? I did when I was younger, but haven't really vibed with it much in recent years. In terms of published fic, maybe the Harry Potter/Beatles crossover drabble I wrote based on a piece of artwork that an old friend of mine had done. I still have the fic, but the artwork has sadly been lost to the ethers of the internet. But the idea was that the Beatles didn't really break up in 1970, they just took on a different career.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Not to my knowledge. But I have taken to granting permission in my author's notes of new fics for anyone who might want to translate them into other languages.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes, actually! Some of my very first fanfics were co-written with a friend of mine. We never published them, but it was just fun to write little stories together.

14. What's your all time favourite ship? Even though I've never written any fanfic for it, I am 100% pure unleaded Chrobin trash. They are my OTP and I am probably due for a replay of Fire Emblem Awakening for it again. "YOU ARE THE WIND AT MY BACK AND THE SWORD AT MY SIDE."

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? One of the very first fics I ever started writing for the Dragon Age fandom was an Alistair/Cousland piece that looked at the period of time between the Warden's disappearance and their (hopefully) eventual return. It was meant to be 10 chapters, with each chapter split between a section in the past that looked at their romance over time and a section that took place in the more immediate present as Alistair navigated the events of DAI. I still have the document sitting on my laptop as well as backed up in my google drive, but I only ever finished the first chapter and even though I go back to it sometimes and make notes, I've not worked on it with any serious attention in years (I started this fic not too long after the Trespasser DLC was released) and at this point I doubt it will ever be in a publishable state let alone finished.

16. What are your writing strengths? I think I'm really good at dialogue! I'm very good at conveying personalities and speech patterns in written dialogue.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Blowjobs

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? For me, I think it depends on the amount of dialogue that is being spoken in another language and whether or not it's something the character whose POV is being written would understand.

With fantasy settings like Dragon Age, most of my fics are written from the POV of one of the game protagonists which are all human in my world state. So they wouldn't understand things like Qunlat or Elvhen, but also as those conlangs are incomplete languages, I will usually just refer to dialogue as being spoken in a language that the POV character doesn't understand. In a few fics where I've written from Solas' POV, I have used things like italics or sometimes <<special dialogue brackets>> to denote that this speech is being spoken between two characters in another language. Since the languages are fictional but the story is being told in English, it makes sense that the "author" translates in a similar logic to how Tolkien's books are "translated" for us to read.

With stories and settings that are more grounded in reality, I'll use other languages where appropriate. Usually this is in the form of nicknames or titles or expressions that I feel can't really convey the same tone or idea if they were translated into English. I've been very fortunate to find several new friends in the LSDLN fandom who have taught me a lot about monickers and nicknames and phrases in different regional dialects of Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Technically it was Digimon Adventure - baby's first Mary-Sue fic

20. Favourite fic you've written? It's a tie between "In the Long Hours of the Night" and "The Many Faces of Wisdom". With the former, this was the fic where I first felt like I finally got Quinn Trevelyan. It was the fic where he emerged as a more formed and complete character and I'm still proud of it. With the latter, it was an experimental idea that toyed with a rather ambiguously-defined relationship between Solas and the Inquisitor. It also was the first time I played around with writing Fade scenes and spirits and you can see a lot of the building blocks that I would eventually revisit and explore more as I fleshed out my own lore. It's also the one fic where I started with a very specific image in my mind and that I would really love to commission art for one day.

Blank Form Under the Cut

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

3. What fandoms do you write for?

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

5. Do you respond to comments?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

14. What's your all time favorite ship?

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

16. What are your writing strengths?

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

20. Favorite fic you've written?

[jeonride]

... 💭 KALA'S MOOTS ! *.✧

just a soft agenda for saying how i'm grateful with all of you. you guys make me feel less alone in this platform and i'm so happy for that. reminder : you can always talk to me if you feel like the world is against you, if you feel like you aren't okay. because i wanna laugh and cry with you :(

@sunnylovespickles - #... sunny ☀️

i was so thankful when i met you, sunny you were my first moot back then 😭 you're so kind and omg the angel's trumpets fic that dedicated to me??? i've read it for the third time like- OMG I LOVE IT SO MUCH !! I'LL TREASURE IT FOREVER !! will always be rooting for you, sunny <3 you're amazing !

@novalpha - #... nova 🪐

nova is a shy person and i actually kinda like that because you're cute when you can't take my compliments shsjsjs your fic recs helped me a lot to find some good writings to be read !!

@yunjinified - #... buttercup 🦋

buttercup you are saur sweet and expressive 😭 i'm happy whenever i get your ask through the inbox and HEY! YOU REALLY GOT A LOT OF SVT MEMES

@beefboyandbabygirl - #... beefboy 🍖

you are sickk your writingss are wholesome ! along with babygirl too of course <3 and your theme? reminds me of good days when i used to watch my little pony shshs

@shuadotcom - #... cherry 🍒

cherry! you are a very understanding person, your heart is golden, you are always welcome with everybody and i love to read your fics, they bring comfort to me ! &lt;3

@min-gis - #... snow ❄️

snow! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW I ALWAYS GET LOST IN YOUR WRITINGS LIKE WHAT HOW CAN SOMEONE WRITE THAT BEAUTIFUL???? the way you write your fics feel like i'm reading poetries, i love all of them ! especially the mingi fic counting stars and then i've never felt alone with you drabble (i was crying when i read that *no clickbait*) i read them for the fifth time now 😭 i can feel your love towards mingi OM GOSH

@shuadrive - #... dani 🌼

it's funny how i just realized that we're moots lmao it's always to ramble abt about mingyu + wonwoo + taylor swift with you. maybe we can do spotify session someday? listening to taylor albums sjsjsj

@wonwoonlight - #...khione 🌙

my talented moot omg khione ! you don't know how your fics made my day 😭 they feel like a warm and fuzzy sweater ! i'd love to get closer to you &lt;3

@mimgi - #...lu 🍬

omgosh i remember i found your acc because of your mingi drabbles ! love them so so so much, lovely !

@jaysbiceps - #... amy🌷

wah you were so sweet back then by sending me an ask sjsjsh and thank you for being by my side and worrying about me :((

@chokchokk - #... choy 🏔️

I HAVE NO WORDS FOR YOU BESIDE A TON OF COMPLIMENTS CHOY YOUR WRITING SKILL IS ON ANOTHER LEVEL LIKE YOU'RE MY FAVORITE ATEEZ FIC AUTHOR ON THIS PLATFORM !! the mingi fic, worked hard harder for you? I'VE READ IT FOR THE SIXTH TIME NOW I CAN'T GET OVER HUBBY MINGI 😭 you're very sociable, easy going, what a jester and magician to me, and it's always fun to talk to you, sharing about different cultures, and experiences. i adore you so much, choy mi amor. i never get tired for saying your writings feel like first love 🥺

@dairyminki - #... elle🍦

your vibe is really, really, soft. i don't know why but i find it that way. like a vanilla ice cream. i remember your old header it was seonghwa with purple color scheme omg i'd love to get closer to you !

@smolyeo - #... yeo 🍓

MY STRAWBERRY YEO MY HYPE GIRL!! you're such a lovable creature how can't i'm not attracted to you :(((

@desirehorizon - #... dee 🔱

when i first saw your blog, i was like 'ohh, interesting' because you arrange your layout and your masterlist neatly. you feel like that friend who has power to protect the whole circle omg

@nishloves - #... nish ✨

nish ! your bubbly vibe always makes me smile you're so friendly and it's nice to be your moot !

@x03yd0cx - #... xoey 🐼

xoey, i know you from the blockbuster fic of wooyo and i enjoyed ittt ! let's get closer &lt;3

@babesindestroyland - #... ty 💅🏻

i'm new for being your moot but i know you have such a beautiful heart, supportive, and thoughtful ! i'd love to get closer to you !

@gummygowon - #... mai 🧃

MAI ! thank you for sending me message through inbox to begin with 🤠 i was flattering when you said my theme is sickkkk you have that girlcrush energy omg

@jaehunnyy - #... chip 🫧

chip sunshine! your cute pics and your expressive replies to my messages always made my day thank you for reaching out for me :(( i'm happy to be your moot

@cherryonigiri - #... alice 🌌

i know your blog because i searched for divider tutorial and then found it on your acc ! i will never forget it cause it helped me a lot sjsjsj

@yourfatherlucifer - #... felix⚡

hey lixie ! i hope you won't hate your writings anymore after this :( have confident in yourself you're enough !

@haosweater - #... mei 🧸

mei ! your vibe AGHHHH like that cottage core girl with comfort fr (i don't know why esp your usn is 'sweater'. can i be your heather? JSJSHHS)

@senpai-of-doom - #... doom 🚀

thank you for reaching out for me you seem sociable ! let's get closer &lt;3

@rubywonu - #... nia 💫

i'm your new moot so i haven't know you well but omgosh i know you from redamancy, you seem kind and loving, you too feel free to hit me up, nia !

@icyminghao - #... noelle 🥞

i'm new to be your moot and i was so happy when i saw you followed me back because GOSHH i've been reading to your fics and it's unbelievable we're being moots now ! your fics bring comfort to me (like honey pancakes for breakfast!), thank you for keep writing 🥺

@mingycr - #... ana 🪽

i don't know you have something within you, i sense it. you seem warm-hearted 🌷

@hanverse - #... kaira 🌸

kaira ! we're just being moots like- yesterday?? but oh, you seem like that girl with doll heart, your theme is saur cute too !

[riewritten]

Hiiii rieeee! How are doing these fine days (me? Not so good haha but ill live)

Sorry im late, but im finally here to drop you the things you asked for last time about the drabble idea. Here's what i came up with;

readers feelings: she appreciated him as a friend, then as she got older, it bloomed into something 💓else💓

is it one sided: both of them think its one sides but no its not one sided. They both liked each other, Its kind of tragic if you think about it. Neither of them knew the the other liked them, then suddenly they just got torn apart from each other. And those feelings still lingering in their heart, to the point neither of them got serious with someone else.

did Erwin's mother have any hand in readers family's misfortune: no, Erwin's mother had nothing to do with what happened to her family. Her father just made some bad business choices that made him lose his money and nobility, so they moved from their house and left town. Until reader became a responsible adult and moved back in twon for her little brother's education. That's when our King Erwin Smith saw her. It was her father who advised reader not to meet with the crown prince anymore, no matter how close of friends they are, her father told her it would paint a bad image for the prince to befriend someone from the lower class. She was hurt by his words but she understood the mission. Her father was a mere noble who served the royal family when it came to businessand trading, and they lost the right to serve after what had happened. And it made them keep to themselves even more.

The story doesnt really have any deep drama in it, there might be some twists and and turns to stop Erwin and reader from being with each other. Like their dumbasses not knowing the other person's feelings, or Erwin's mother arranging a blind date for her son, or reader's father not accepting their relationship because it would ultimately harm his daughter to be the King's wife than do any good.

And if i want to spice it up, I'll have Erwin get in a car accident and forget that he loves reader or something

Im just joking.... unless ,':) In any case, it was small idea for a small fic that i dont know if ill ever write it.

You did ask for my writing blog, and that is: @fictionallystable its just there as a backlog of writings i did or writing i like to share or save to read later.

hi jay!! oh my god thank u for answering my questions last time 😙 first of all the "they both think it's one sided" NOOOOO WHY

in for the angst tho. and i like that your characters, even the side casts like reader's father, still have their own volition that makes the plot run and theyre not jus silly caricatures standing like 🧍‍♂️ as our main leads do everything by themselves

but the car accident!!@ plEASEEE JDJSDJS 😭😭😭

^ lichrally u with the spongebob meme you attached 😭

and yipee for the writing blog!! been talking to u for a while now and i know someone has a talent for writing when i talk to one, so i hope u keep it up!! (imma follow ur writing blog too jus in case u drop a dish 🤭)

the fanfic has manhwa vibes on it (mayb bc royalty plots are so prevalent in manhwa) and when i imagine erwin in that drawing style i jus deadass-

[nostalgia-tblr]

First Lines Meme

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Tagged by @lokiinmediasideblog

I have provided brief commentary on each of these, to share my wisdom and because I was bit bored.

Thor’s favourite thing of all, if he had to commit to a single choice, is sparring with his brother. (The Marriage Game, mostly-gen Thor thing) This isn't a very exciting first line, I admit. Oh well, there are plenty more after it as this fic is 5000 words long.

2. Sylvie never hesitates to hurt him, whether he has asked her to or not. But when he asks… oh, she revels in it then. (everybody's looking for something, the one where sylvie beats loki with a stick) I think this is quite a good opening line. It reassures the reader who decided to read Loki being beaten with a stick that, yes, the hot stick-on-Loki action is definitely here, the tags didn't lie.

3. The sounds of celebration are more than enough to cover footsteps, but Sif is always alert and difficult to sneak up on, so the touch on her shoulder is no great shock to her. (Out of Sight, sifki porn with angst in) This is an okay line, if I remember right the opening few lines were the last to be written, because I'd started with the (*ahem*) main thrust of the plot and then had to go back and get them close to each other so they could do that thrusting (and angsting).

4. His brother’s funeral has not yet taken place and already he is betrothed to the killer. (The Winter Of Our Discontent, ongoing Sylki Arranged Marriage AU) This is a fantastic first line, well done me! There's a death and a marriage on the first line! The reader can see at once why it's tagged as 'Enemies to Lovers'! It has the word 'betrothed' in it, so you know this is gonna be A Bit Faux-Historical! Oh, how concise I was!

5. This part of the story isn’t true: Loki runs after the variant – the other Loki – and he runs through the time-door just before it closes, and finds himself in another apocalypse. (In My Head I Do Everything Right, Loki series AU where everything is more horrible.) Also good - it establishes that some of the story is less true than other parts, and intrigues the reader by telling them that what they saw happen didn't happen in this version. Bold. Unusual. Exciting!

6. The other Loki finishes his drink and then finishes his story; “So while I was freed from fulfilling a few of my less well-intentioned promises, I was also trapped – I could hardly go home, could I, after all of that? So I stayed in New York and built this little empire instead.” (Match Three, Loki/Loki/Sylvie porn) Bit infodumpy and not remotely pornographic, two potentially serious flaws when the reader is in search of filth. But consider; I dealt with the backstory of this extra Loki in the first line and now we can just move the fuck on to them all fucking without much more preamble.

7. One thing Sylvie wasn’t expecting was for already-broken timelines to heal, and for those that were lost (more accurately murdered) long ago to reassert themselves somehow, and to push their way back into the ever-expanding multiverse. (one (1) returned item, practically gift-wrapped, double drabble) Not a bad attempt to explain what's going on in a story with a very limited wordcount, I feel. That limited wordcount was also strict, which will have affected the word choice here. (I can't remember any details though.)

8. Disconcertingly, River Song doesn’t play by the Doctor’s rules. (Foreshadowing, look everyone it's River Song!) Another short and strict wordcount, not a bad opening line all things considered.

9. With the clearer vision of hindsight, Thor reckons that the hammer might have been the thing that made his brother start to stumble. (Loophole, thorki fic about the perils of excessive pedantry) Oh, a flashback! Why would someone stumble with a hammer? Did he trip over it? You must read on to unravel the mystery! Therefore, a good opening line.

10. “So why haven’t you two fucked yet?” asks the Grandmaster, seemingly out of nowhere. (Love Is A Danger Of A Different Kind, sylki-on-sakaar horrible dubcon-frostmaster thing) Excellent first line, defines the existing relationship boundaries and contains a single shocking swear in a line that breaks all the usual rules of politeness. A wild and very awkward ride lies ahead, it seems to say. I'd keep reading this fic for sure!

I will now tag everyone on tumblr.

[weepylucifer]

for the drabble ask meme: 22 or 37 with Steban and Ulixes? :3

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

It is a night like any other - if anything, this night is more mellow than their usual meetings. Finals week has just come and gone and left the both of them too drained for heated debate or fervent analysis. They'd talked about this week's reading a little, messed around with the matchboxes in a way that was more playful than anything, and quickly abandoned the endeavor in favor of more or less... just hanging out. And Ulixes likes talking theory with Steban, and he knows it's important, but he also finds himself wishing they'd... just hang out more often. It's simple, it's nice. It's good to remember sometimes that they're not just comrades but also friends.

Steban is smoking a cigarette and telling a meandering anecdote about a class that Uli is not in, and Uli is absorbing maybe every other sentence of it, nodding and humming in the appropriate places. He cannot help this. Steban enraptures him endlessly, not his words this time, but the shape of him, his profile softened by the warm, low light of the reading lamp. The way smoke spills past his slightly parted lips, the flash of teeth that occasionally glints in the light as he speaks. His skin looks warm, his throat inviting where the collar of his shirt falls open, poised for ready, starving teeth to sink into. Surely Steban means nothing by it when he leaves the first few buttons of his shirt open like that, surely he's not trying to be alluring, to presume he is would be reading too much into it. Surely he's just too lost in thought or too sleepy in the mornings to do those buttons up correctly.

Great, now he's thinking about Steban in the mornings, hazy and soft with sleep, coming awake gradually and indolently, yawning, stretching. Maybe he sleeps in the nude. Maybe sometimes he wakes up aroused and takes himself in hand, when he's got the time. Maybe he does it in the shower...

Ulixes can't pretend these thoughts are new, or that thinking them even shocks him anymore. Those grooves in his mind are well-worn, paths smooth from frequent treading. It's already a habit to let himself get lost like this in ruminance upon his comrade's body, to perhaps even dream up scenarios in which he reaches out a daring hand and touches--

"Uli, are you okay?"

"Hmm?" Ulixes jolts out of his reverie. Apparently Steban has finished speaking and is now looking straight at him.

"You're kind of... staring at me," Steban says. "Is something wrong?"

Uh-oh. Oh no. Ulixes has been told his stare can be... disconcerting, with his glasses. The last thing he wants is to weird Steban out. "No," he says, hoping to salvage the situation, "Just... thinking."

"Ah," Steban says and nods and looks away, and for a moment it seems like he'll leave it at that, but then he continues, "No, actually, I think it's time we talked about this."

"What?"

"It's only, I've observed this before, and something is up, isn't it? I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice... it's been a frequent occurrence, lately, and, there's really only one conclusion to be drawn from it..."

Oh, god, here it comes. He has been found out. Ulixes feels his insides quake with fright, but he can't deny that some part of him is absurdly excited. Had wanted this to happen, even. Now the dice have fallen, his secret is uncovered, his love and devotion laid bare to the world, and now Steban will pass judgement, deem him worthy of his attentions or cast him away. Either way: after this, there will be no more guessing and fretting. Ulixes will know where he stands.

"...You secretly hate me, right?" Steban says.

What.

"What," Ulixes repeats.

Steban wrings his hands. He looks extremely concerned. "I mean... you look at me like that because I've done something wrong, don't you? Do you find me lacking, in terms of ideology? Have I done something to offend you? Is my theory unsound? Whatever it is, be honest with me about it, and I'll correct the behavior." He's almost crying now, Ulixes observes with a terrible start. "I know I'm difficult, but..."

Uli has to interrupt now. "You, difficult?"

"I know I'm not easy to get along with..."

"You are the easiest person in the world to get along with," Ulixes says, because that is his truth.

"I know I'm petty. I drive people away. Maurice... Felix and Zuzanna..."

"They just weren't the right fit for this group, that's not your fault..."

"But I don't want to... I can't drive you away like that," Steban continues. "For you, I'll critique and work on myself. You're my only... my best friend. I don't know what I'd do without you."

His appeal concluded, Steban looks down and fidgets forlornly with the stub of his cigarette. This is a disaster, Ulixes thinks. He expected that Steban would figure him out sooner or later and that all he had to do was wait. He never fathomed that Steban would get it this wrong.

(But, having made a study of Steban's personality, perhaps he should have taken the possibility into account. He knows how Steban can get sometimes, when his gloomier moods do his thinking for him. Ulixes mentally slaps himself for not being more aware. If he doesn't take care of his comrade's emotional needs, then what's he even doing??)

The issue is so grave and demands so loudly to be corrected that suddenly, putting a hand on Steban's and saying "Actually, I've been secretly in love with you" is easy.