#might become its own story instead of a oneshot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

astrox · 2 years ago

Text

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 / 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 Instead of making oneshot after oneshot, I decided to turn my werewolf oneshot into a story

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘

A fear sparked within a village when a wolf had been rumoured to loom around in the forest. A group of hunters chasing after the animal described the beast as something they'd never seen before. A village outcast by the name of Y/n is tending to her garden, laying traps for the little critters when she hears strange noises.

Appearing before her is a wounded wolf with a knife sticking out its side. Without an ounce of fear in her eyes, she opens her door to the wolf seeing the light of the hunters draw near. It's after, that she finds a naked man lying in a pool of his own blood. While nursing the man back to health, Y/n discovers more about herself and her family, as love blooms between her and the stranger.

ᝰ ⊹ . · 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀

⇾ Wolf Hybrid Sanemi x Fem Reader ⇾ Reader is CHUBBY!! ⇾ Reader's family are conjurers (witches) ⇾ Base of my Little Red Riding Hood Oneshot ⇾ slowburn romance ⇾ smut is included but not until later ⇾ Violence & mention of character deaths

In your little village, its people shammed those who are different. It's a flaw that drove your family tree to splinters and burned in hellfire until you were all that remained. Your people believed it to be a curse set upon your family for dwelling in witchcraft. You knew better and deemed it an accident. Despite your beliefs, you were accused of murder at eleven years old. Instead of death, the village sentenced you to live as a nobody, an outcast without a name. As an outcast, you were forced to leave with nothing but the clothes on your back and your brother's ring. Luckily, you knew of a cottage that belonged to your late grandmother so the villager's hopes of you becoming wolf food ceased to become a reality.

Nowadays trouble in your little village usually revolved around the drunkards of the local taverns, starting numerous bar fights and damaging public property. A pathetic display that one might call it from time to time repeatedly only to be ignored a day after. No one gets involved unless the town is on fire. No one but the authorities can handle the men. Surrounded by lush green forests, your village is among the smallest, therefore, it's not a big tourist destination like the big cities and not a lot are willing to live amidst its people.

One day, five hunters from the neighbouring village arrived in town unannounced, causing quite a stir for your people. It has been years since the last visitors and these men yearned for a taste of the villager's mead after a long day of hunting. Everyone welcomed these men as if kings and queens had arrived, serving them food and providing a warm inn for them to rest.

These strangers went off about a wolf roaming the forest, snatching up animals and other hunters that crossed paths with the strange beast. The hunters described the wolf as something they'd never seen before. It's bigger than any ordinary wolf. Its fur is silver, and its eyes are black like a raven's feather. According to the hunters, it was last spotted near the outskirts of your village. Unlike everyone else in your village, you're the only one who hasn't received word about the wolf stalking you picking weeds by a river, adorned in your grandmother's bright red hood.

Pulling off another vine, you rinsed off the dirt in the river. As you cleaned off the herbs, the sound of twigs snapping followed by feet scurrying away caught your attention. You pulled your hood down and snapped your gaze towards the noises. A hand touches your boot, where you kept a knife as added security, fingers undoing the buckle. Your eyes searched the tall trees, and the dirt landscape blended with the rocky terrain for the source of your distraction. As for sounds, you listened for the birds, the river bashing against the stone and splashing. Whatever was lurking in the woods had swept your mind, imagining a rabbit or fox smelling the contents coming from your satchel.

Taking the freshly washed weeds, you wrapped them in your handkerchief before you stashed them into your satchel. Whilst, you tucked the herbs away, your eyes fell on your right hand. On your ring finger is the ring that belongs to your old brother, who wore it on his pinky.

"Y/n! Go! Run! Get out of here and don't look back!" Your brother's voice rang in your head with the mystery of your family's death left unsolved. Nine years have passed since then and memories of it slowly evolved from recurring nightmares to a big blur. You missed them terribly and would do whatever it took to see them again. Twisting the ring, your mind lingered on the voices of the deceased, mourning them in silence.

Snapping you out of your thoughts is a wet nose touching your leg. Darting down, you find your black and white siberian husky brushing her head against your shin. Kneeling down, you ruffled the dog's black fur affectionately.

"I'm alright Winter," You assured your blue-eyed canine, giving her a couple of pats on top of her head. Stuffing a hand into a pocket of your satchel, you feed Winter one of her treats. "There's a good girl,"

Winter yaps, nudging your hand and pounces to lick your face. You laughed, moving the dog away. "Let's catch dinner already, you cheeky pooch!"

Ignoring the piece of jewellery, you took a few steps along the bay, stopping near the end of a rope leading into the water. You leaned down, picking up the cord and wrapping it around your wrist. Fishing in a big river such as this wasn't always an easy task. However, you've had years to learn how to fight the currents and made small nets to collect fish for you and your dog Winter. Looping around a tree trunk, you tugged onto the rope until the net came into view. You tied the rope off when you hauled the net onto the shore.

"one...two...three," You counted your haul, carefully moving each fish into a large woven basket. "Ah, we have a good haul today Winter! Eight fish to last us a whole week,"

"After dinner, I can set up the wire fence to keep the other animals out of the garden." Strapping the lid of the baskets down, you rolled up your nets to use in your next catch. "There all done!"

You whistled. "Winter home!"

Immediately, Winter disappeared into the brushes leaving you to shrug the basket over your shoulder. Feeling eyes on your shoulder, you spun on your heel to see an unfamiliar man walking on the other side of the river. He carried a beartrap, exploring the river bank until he noticed you gaping from afar. Assuming he lived in the village, you turned away without hesitation and carried on home, following winter's yelps.

Tucked away further in the middle of the woods stands your grandmother's cottage—well your cottage now. You've spent the last few years maintaining it to stand against the forces of nature and to be suited to your needs. Your garden is the favourite part of your home, planting all your vegetables till they were ready for harvest. Unfortunately, the upsurge of sneaky wildlife has been a nuisance for your vegetables, especially your lettuce and carrots. You'd wake up to half-eaten veggies or bug-infested produce.

In the fall of night, you were tending to the wire fencing, using pliers to twist the wires over your wooden fence frames. Winter occupied the window, watching you moving about in the dark with one lantern lighting your way. Once your twist the wire over your fence, you nailed it down the ends and pegged them into the dirt.

Meanwhile, not far, the hunters were on the hunt, chasing the wolf. The long chase started moments after one of the hunters sacrificed themselves and stabbed its side with a dagger. The men gained on the animal a few times, yelling profanities and gloating on an easy catch. It took a bump in the road for the wolf to manoeuvre its way down a hill and gain speed. Inhaling, the wolf caught a whiff of something sweet, deeper in the woods.

I smell magic

The hunters armed with crossbows shoot arrows in the wolf's direction only to miss every single shot. Under the moonlight, the wolf could be seen but when hidden in the shadows the wolf is lost. He uses the shadows as an advantage leading the hunters the wrong way.

Don't lose consciousness yet!

"Damn it! Don't lose the son of a bitch now! Bring the dogs to sniff it out and the rest of you follow the blood!" A tall man yells, pointing his lantern to the ground.

Shaking your new fence barrier, you hummed in approval and wiped the dirt off your hands ready to settle in for the night. Oblivious to a wolf heading your way, you checked over the fence one more time only for something to catch your eyes. Before you could investigate, Winter barking grabs your attention. Winter's paws scratch at the windows forcing you to attempt to silence her yaps. "Winter hush! What's the matter, girl?"

The canine refuses to listen and as you approach the front door something heavy hits your back, causing you to fall to the ground. You yelped when you landed on your stomach wondering what had caused your fall. A growl urged you to face the source of the source. Dropping the lantern in your hand, The dim light lets you catch a glimpse of the animal.

Standing over you is the large wolf, glaring down at you and licking its blood-stained teeth. You lay there, unprovoked, accepting your fate as the wolf's supper. Even if you were quick to defend yourself you wouldn't make it inside your house. You didn't scream nor move a muscle, just locking eyes, you feel the animal's annoyance, its anger.

Leaning its head near the side of your neck, you shut your eyes tightly and heard the animal inhaling your scent. All you could do is stay still and allow the wolf to get a hint of your scent. Time felt slow as you lay there in confusion. Any ordinary wolf would've torn you apart right about now.

Sensing the creature's nose trailing down then up your right arm, your hand got a feel of its snout. Snapping your head to the side, you witness the wolf licking at your brother's ring. Raising a brow your body shifts startling the wolf and making the knife in its side move.

Whimpering and straggling away in pain, your eyes spot the blood staining its fur. You gasped, seeing the blood showering on the soil beneath its feet. Shuffling back towards your front door, you eyed the cascade of blood and saw the knife sticking out its side. It aches your kind heart to see animals in pain, mainly if humans were to blame. Raising your free hand, you intended on calming him to earn his trust.

"You're hurt," You whispered, reaching a hand out slowly, offering the wolf the help it needed. "Please let me help you,"

At first, it hesitates but the moment is interrupted by loud voices in the distance. Peering behind the wolf, you see light.

"It went this way!"

"It won't go that far with its wounds,"

"Fuck! Find it before we lose it again!"

Looking back at the wolf, you asked. "They're after you,"

Instantly, you jumped up on your feet, rushing over to your door. You opened it, motioning the animal to enter. "Come,"

No response so you try again. "Come here boy,"

The wolf is still uncertain, but you never falter from wanting to help him. Seeing the lights getting closer, you couldn't help and yell. "Get your ass in here if you want to live!"

Your yelling made the wolf dash into your house. You closed the door behind you, blowing out all the candles you had lit, including your lantern. Darkness quickly flooded your home, but Winter's yaps never stop and you were lucky enough to leave her in your bedroom while you tend to your garden.

"Winter hush," You whispered your plea, sticking your hand through the door to your room. Winter slips through the door and into your arms. You pulled close, whispering. "sit,"

Winter obeys your command, parking her bottom down on the floor. You crawled near a window and peeked over the window sill. Counting four men, aimlessly looking everywhere but the front of your cottage. Curiously, you waved a hand at the men when light pass by your window. No reaction whatsoever. Standing up resulted in the same.

"What the hell?" You said internally, tilting your head to the side. "It's like I'm invisible to them or something,"

"We lost it!"

"Fuck! Let the dogs loose! Find that bastard!"

"We're not stopping until we find that wolf!"

You stayed in the same spot, bewildered by the truth of events and waved the hunters goodbye. Now onto pressing matters, you brought your attention to Winter sniffing the blood on the floor. You didn't mind the mess since you've helped injured animals in the past.

"Winter stay," You instruct your dog in a soft tone of voice. Following the tracks, grabbing towels or whatever you could. You didn't own a first aid kit, carrying all the alcohol to clean wounds and equipment used for stitches. The best you can think of is your grandmother's sewing kit and the medical herbs you've collected over the years. Maybe you could crush the weeds you've collected by the river with some medical herbs into a paste and apply them to the wound after stitching it closed. Another option included a knife's blade heated up by a flame.

Finding yourself in your living room. There's a fireplace that you leave burning for warmth and found no wolf. Laying in the pool of his own blood is a naked man, with hair white as the wolf's fur and skin littered with scars. Unlike humans, the stranger has a pair of wolf ears on top of his head and a fluffy tail on his rear.

Rushing over to his side, you pressed the towels over his wounds after you turned him onto his back. The missing dagger is abandoned by his hand meaning he pulled it out on his own. An idiotic thing to do when you're on the brink of death.

"This night just keeps getting weirder and weirder," You thought to yourself.

sanemi visuals

#shinazugawa sanemi x reader #sanemi x reader #kny x you #kny sanemi #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanart #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer sanemi #demon slayer fanfic #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi #sanemi x you #sanemi x y/n #sanemi shinazugawa x y/n #chubby y/n #sanemi shinazugawa x chubby reader #reader insert #demon slayer x reader #y/n insert

211 notes · View notes

mamaz00m · 6 months ago

Text

So. Plans for the future. Let’s talk about it.

Going back through this fic and finally writing the last chapter opened the floodgates for me, in a way. As I said in my last post, I’d been wondering about what Gabe and Eli in the future would be like, what their lives would look like. I wrote a glimpse into their future back in 2019 in A Name of My Own. But I still feel like there’s more to uncover, more to learn, to discover.

Finishing Raise Hell felt monumental for me. When I completed the last chapter, I sat staring at the final line for fifteen minutes, asking myself if I could do this—if I could finally publish it. If I was ready for this all to be over. Because this fic had started out as a coping mechanism for me. When I’d began writing it, I identified pretty heavily with Eli—like I wanted so desperately to have someone come rescue me. Someone who knew how to care for me while also pushing me to be my best in ways that felt challenging, but not scary. Weirdly, it felt difficult to essentially ‘let go’ of that time in my life, that version of me.

Weirder, still, is the fact that just like Eli, I essentially got exactly what I wanted. I moved in with my best friend. We’ve built a life together. I’m happy, and I’m finally beginning to thrive instead of just survive. I clicked publish. I decided to let go of the 24 year old version of me.

And by the next day, (nearly) 34 year old me had an idea for a second Gabeli story—a road map unfurled in my mind, the journey these two men could take stretching out before me. I have the notes written down for a second story, ready to begin writing.

What does this mean for RH?

For Raise Hell as it currently exists? Probably nothing.

In its current form, Raise Hell has a few problems—tense-shifting, for one, a couple Boosh/Mint Royale references that would need changed if I were to publish it. I have copy/pasted the whole of the fic into my favorite writing program and am slowly combing through it, fixing the problems with tenses, formatting it, etc. I do have plans to eventually get it up for sale in its new form (with a couple extra scenes included), but that’s in the future. If you loved it, I’d download it now so that you’ll always have access to it in its original form because it might not remain forever on AO3.

What is Heaven & Earth?

The sequel I’m planning for Raise Hell. It will be set roughly two years after the conclusion of RH and will follow one major plot and two minor subplots as we follow the boys further into their relationship.

We’ll see how Jen, Ben, and Kat are doing and we’ll find out more about Spuds, James, and Alan, too.

We’ll uncover more insights about Gabe’s past and his parents, and we’ll see some things from Eli’s past get wrapped up as well.

Will you be posting H&E to AO3?

Yes! Any Gabeli stuff I work on will be posted to AO3 first and then be made available in other formats, reconfigured, improved, etc. later.

What is Hereafter?

The long and short of it is I don’t know yet! Coming back to finish a fic (and then go on to continue it) for what appears to be a dead fandom is a…weird experience, to say the least. I’m convinced at this point that I’m only continuing this for my own benefit at this point, but I think I’m fine with that.

I think once I’ve finished with H&E, the picture will become clearer for Hereafter. Or Hereafter may become just a collection of oneshots only on AO3—random snapshots of Gabe and Eli’s lives at different points. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out when the time comes.

So. That’s it for the updates for now.

Thanks again.

#gabeli #raise hell #julian barratt #mint royale #the mighty boosh #noel fielding #noelian #mighty boosh

6 notes · View notes

heliads · 2 years ago

Text

just a short time masterlist

Y/N L/N and Nikolai Lantsov have already fallen in love. They have yet to meet. Their stories are over and done. There is far more to the world than just one series. Oneshots. Unrelated. Snapshots of history as of yet untold. Let’s return to the world.

Sequel series to 'All By Design,' my Nikolai Lantsov modern AU based on the 'Midnights' album by Taylor Swift. This series is based on the songs in the 3ams.

Chapter One: didn't see the news

this time: Zoya knows better than to believe that whatever is going on between Y/N and Nikolai will last. It is the believing, though, that might do her in.

Chapter Two: all over now

this time: Fate has a way of getting its strings crossed. Three times Nikolai and Y/N almost meet again, and then one time they did.

Chapter Three: my hand was the one you reached for

this time: Alina Starkov is somewhat of an enigma. No one quite knows where she came from nor how she was found by Aleksander. Mal would know, but she cannot reach him no matter how hard she tries.

Chapter Four: if you don't recognize yourself, that means you did it right

this time: There is a girl named Y/N L/N, and she has just come to a bright, new city that isn’t quite her own. She hasn’t entered the free fall yet, but she will soon enough.

Chapter Five: the system's breaking down

this time: Nikolai doesn’t like thinking about the time he ran away to be a nobody in a ghost town by the sea. That doesn’t stop it from being real, though, nor does it keep him from wanting to become Sturmhond again more than ever.

Chapter Six: i miss who i used to be

this time: Genya Safin’s life is a web of intersecting connections. She meets David Kostyk through Aleksander, but she also meets someone much, much worse.

Chapter Seven: the slowest way is never loving them enough

this time: Nikolai Lantsov grew up in a facsimile of a normal life, knowing a falsehood of a love from parents who faked everything but their anger. It should ruin him, but instead, it makes him something better. Something strong.

63 notes · View notes

drunkdragondoes · 8 years ago

Text

Summoner AU - Petals and Boots

It’s also on ff.net and AO3, though under a different fic of their own. AO3 and FF.net.

Freedom was comprised of two facets for Weiss - authority and power. Authority was the ability to enforce, to give orders and direct others. Power was the proactive choice to do something. Living in the Schnee Manor had given her an early example of both cases at work, and for all that happened under the roof, she wanted to believe that she had freedom. With a few choice words, a five-star meal could be prepared on a whim. Servants would fetch her almost anything under the sun that lien could buy.

Yet while she held this over others, Weiss felt like she had no agency in regards to herself. There were certain things she had to conform to. Her father dictated her every waking hour, from the moment she left the breakfast table to the moment she entered her room for the night. Singing lessons. Etiquette and business.

Failure to participate and meet her father’s expectations were, as he described, unfortunate. Perhaps it was driven out of survival or need, but Weiss did her best to perform to her father’s goals. And as she grew older and the days passed by, she found herself watching and waiting for the moment where she could break free.

So when she was given the opportunity to train and become a huntress, she eagerly followed after her sister’s footsteps. The look of surprise on her counselor’s face when she came in and asked about how to become a huntress was not a look she would forget anytime soon.

But bringing that home to her father was something else, and she realized that he didn’t let Winter become a huntress because she wanted to. Instead, he let Winter be a huntress because it benefited him - her skills were better off in that area, and her face and name in the field was more valuable than her actual enjoyment of it.

Weiss becoming a huntress didn’t benefit him. It was the first time she had ever fought for something directly with her father. Years of watching and carefully avoiding his words had left her with trepidation, never fully secure in him. There was a lack of trust from both sides, and some said the fighting lasted about a week, Weiss stubbornly refusing to back down.

But each time their argument ended, Weiss always found herself sequestered in her room, heart pounding in her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her veins as she knew just how terrified she was of him. Sometimes she needed to work out the energy in her veins and she paced her wide room, trying to breathe and slow herself down. But other times it was too much, and she buried her face in her pillow, unsure if she was crying from relief or from the unfortunate words she heard or nearly avoided.

And then one morning she was at the breakfast table and realized that her father, instead of dictating her schedule to her, had simply left a syllabus on her scroll. And at the very bottom of the list, were two words - hunter training. Weiss had never finished breakfast so tquickly.

The first day was just the introductory course - to explain what was expected, to their roles in society, and how the danger was far more real than what the movies and stories say. Everyone knew who she was and some gave her more than just an odd stare. But she wasn’t scared of them and pushed back - they were all smaller than her father after all, and no one was going to take this victory away from her.

And while some walked away from the class, she drank it in. She learned that the style a hunter fought with was determined by body size, weapon choice, and abilities, but it was ultimately within the hunter’s power to decide what was best. Hunters also had authority in certain cases, such as directing civilians in the lack of other figures like the police or military.

It was freedom, and no matter how much she sweat or had to sacrifice in the name of discipline, (creme brulee, her one weakness!) it was a way out of the Schnee Manor to pursue her own choice, and she relished every moment she had.

But as training went on and she excelled in her classes and she grew older, a strange dread crept into her heart. Winter had finally gained her summon, and something her father had said put her in a state of quiet panic.

“Death sounds like it is a powerful entity. I wonder what you’ll be able to do with it in the end.”

She recognized this line. She had heard it in many instances when she was younger and it fueled her at the time. But knowing now that her father was interested in using Winter’s summon, fear coursed through her heart again. Taking out her scroll, she saw that she would be seventeen and a half in three weeks.

Every Schnee that ever had a summon gained it when the were seventeen and a half. The only exception was Winter.

And so for three weeks Weiss feared and yet dared to dream at the same time. She had hoped that pursuing the career of a huntress would be her way to escape the manor. But a voice in the back of her mind wondered that, just maybe, this was all something her father let happen. Was he still in control, valuing her image more than her ‘disobedience’ to him at this time? Was this truly escaping her confines?

But there was also the excitement in her heart. Even if her father found a way to leash her, he couldn’t keep an eye on everything. Perhaps her summon would be so diminutive at first glance that he would overlook it. Or perhaps it would be so powerful that it would punch a hole in the manor and she could flee, like a princess freed by a knight.

Weiss feared and yet wanted the power and authority that having a summon commanded. She would be on the final steps to being a fully-fledged huntress, and her father would have to relinquish his hold upon her. She wanted the authority to wield and direct for something beyond just a goal of financial wealth. She wanted the power to make change and become her own person.

Freedom.

That was the last word in her mind when she stood at the center of the summoning hall, Myrtenaster drawn and pointed at the center. Her eyes were closed, concentrating, breathing deep, trying to remain as calm as she possibly could.

It was finally happening, she reminded herself. Several years of training both her physical body and mastering her glyphs, and now she was at the cusp at being a true huntress. And then she would be called upon to take on missions, to fight, to save, and to explore the world outside of the Schnee Manor. It was everything she had hoped for.

And yet she hesitated. The draw was there, pulling at her heart, but she didn’t answer it just yet. The four walls of the manor were all she knew. She had lived in this castle all her life, following the directions of her father to the letter. And though she had field training, things would be different. What she had taken for granted wouldn’t be available. And ultimately she would be in an area that she was unfamiliar with. And communicating with others had always been… terse. Outside of office talk and the chats with her sister, her word choice was, at best, prickly.

And there was her father. There was always her father.

But she scrunched her eyes shut and took another breath. Weiss needed this. She bit back her thoughts, her concerns, her fears. She would adapt. She would learn.

After all, freedom was worth it.

She opened her eyes, and light began to gather in front of her.

Whoosh

Staring deep into the light, swirling behind its varying hues, refusing to turn away, she hoped her summon would be great. She hoped it would be strong, that it could tear down walls, reach past barriers. She hoped it would be a guide, for both herself and for those who might follow her through the now-open world.

When the lights faded, and the hall was once again still, a man or teenager, perhaps not much older than she was, stood before her. His body stretched tall, hands shoved into his pockets, clothes made of blacks and grays.He looked no different than a hunter, but Weiss could feel something different about him. What stood out the most were his boots. Made of steel and perhaps something beyond the makings of man, they carried a strange weight to their look, as if his feet could puncture the thickest of hides.

But the most intriguing part were the wings sprouting from the top of its sides.

When his gray eyes looked into hers, she licked her lips once, tried to speak, then tried to speak again.

“What is your name?”

“Mercury.”

A god, or at least the essence of one, stood before her.

But before she could say more, a higher-pitched voice came from behind Weiss, freezing her in her tracks.

“Umm, e-excuse me!”

Her head whipped around and she felt her jaw drop. In front of her was a young girl, dressed in a matching black faux corset and skirt with a trailing red cape tied sewn to the shoulders. In her arms was a scythe longer than she was tall, with gears and machinations and contraptions, meant for transforming into who-knew-what. As the girl traced her eyes around the room, taking in the fact that every Schnee was staring at her, seas of white hair and curious eyes looking her way, she began to shrink a little.

“Sorry, umm…”

One hand released her scythe, letting it collapse and tucking it behind her. Then with both hands she began to play with the hem of her skirt, clearly nervous. With any luck the girl probably hoped that she would shrink and disappear into nothing.

What was this girl even doing here? “Who are you?” Weiss nearly snapped, and the girl became even smaller.

“I’m… I’m Ruby Rose… How, uh… How did I get here?”

“How?” Weiss felt her eyebrow shoot up. “Clearly you snuck in during my summoning rite.”

“B-But the last thing I remember was-” a hand went to her head, scratching through her hair and trailing down just the top of her neck a little. “I mean, there were Dominus-class Grimm around me, and they, one of them-” her face suddenly paled. Her hands flew to her chest and stomach, patting herself down and grasping for something that wasn't there.

Placing Myrtenaster away, she stormed up to the girl and was rearing to bite her head off, but a hand clapped onto her shoulder. Turning, she saw that it was Mercury who had caught up with her.

“Easy, now, Weiss. Ruby’s here with me.”

“... What?”

Did…

Did she just summon a girl? A girl who had gone missing three weeks ago?

A/N: Welcome to my OT3 trash. I ship White Rose, but I think I ship Weiss x Mercury harder. As for tie-ins and whatnot, this is sort of a side story that occurs at or around the same time as Winter's story in this AU. It didn't really belong in it, though, so I thought it was best to load it as a separate fic in this series. This is also especially driven by how Weiss might get her own story for now.

Also, before you bite my head off, given how I've written Weiss, Mercury (and even Ruby) DO thematically match her. I did my research (kinda? kinda).

#rwby #summoner au #ruby rose #weiss schnee #mercury black #White rose #whiterose #OT3 #this is my trash #might become its own story instead of a oneshot #cold feet

21 notes · View notes

fairymascot · 2 years ago

Note

Which comics or media do you like with Poison Ivy? Genuinely, I want to see the take on the character you like.

hi anon, thanks for the ask! :)

the definitive version of the character for me is in the harley quinn animated series! it's also one of my favorite takes on harley, their relationship with each other, and honestly the batman universe in general. if you want to give it a go, though, do note it's very much an Adult Animated Series TM with lots of violence, gore, foul language, and crude/off-color humor. people can be put off by it, but as someone who normally can't stand that type of series, i've found it carries itself with considerable elegance. it's genuinely funny and has remarkably good character development, many emotional moments, and great development for harley and ivy. so if you have the stomach for this kind of show, i definitely recommend it.

when it comes to comics:

gotham city villains anniversary giant: a villain-centric anthology that includes an ivy oneshot by g. willow wilson, serving as a prequel for ivy's current ongoing miniseries. featuring beautiful, delicate art and incredibly poignant and gripping writing, wilson does an amazing job of getting into ivy's head and sharing her inner world with the reader. she's deeply troubled, more plant than person, part gorgeous ethereal forest spirit and part terrifying bog witch-- but ultimately still incapable of burying her own humanity. if you only read one thing out of this list, read this!

poison ivy 2022: the aforementioned continuation of the above story, it's fantastic for all the same reasons. only one issue out of six is currently out, but for once in my life where dc comics are involved, i have very high hopes!

more under the cut--

secret origins: gardener is the current canon origin story for ivy in the main continuity, told from the pov of her college girlfriend turned also-ecoterrorist, bella garten. the art is lush and gorgeous, ivy is shown in an extremely sympathetic light (bella might be MILDLY biased), and it reinforces her romantic relationship with harley from early on. i'd say my only fault with it is that it insists on her relationship with woodrue being mutual and romantic, instead of y'know, her college professor exploiting her, conducting inhumane experiments on her and ruining her life. still, though, a great read!

poison ivy: thorns is a young adult reimagining of her origin story, including gorgeous shoujo manga-esque art, an original female love interest for ivy, and a story that makes her equal parts sympathetic and fearsome. on its own, it's not exactly groundbreaking literature -- the plot is fairly predictable, the romance is shallow -- but as an ivy story, it's a gem. it focuses on her trauma & her craving for human intimacy that's ultimately eclipsed by her connection to the green, and spins a narrative of a victim that learns to stand up for herself and take revenge on those who've wronged her.

catwoman: soulstealer is another ya retelling, this time focusing on-- you guessed it-- catwoman. despite being clumsy at times (the comic adaptation has a bad habit of slapping entire paragraphs from the novel directly onto the page) and featuring a wholly uninteresting romance between selina and batwing (apparently that’s a real guy?), it's also got some of the best sirens content dc's ever put out. selina's budding friendship with ivy and harley is one of the focal points of the book, and the two of them are fully fledged, engaging characters in their own right. they're all just starting out in their villain careers here, and ivy is young, optimistic, and confident, her character focused less on the trauma of becoming poison ivy and more on the ways it's empowered her. (she's still, however, very weak for harley, and desperate for friendship). a very sweet and enjoyable take, if you skim through the dragging/cluttered sections. the art and designs are top notch, too!

dc pride 2021: features a short harlivy story by mariko tamaki and amy reeder which, despite being around twelve pages long, manages to nail so much of what makes their relationship great. it shows them bantering, arguing, revealing their vulnerabilities, and talking out major issues in their relationship that seem so obvious and yet have basically never come up in mainline canon. it was really great to see. plus, the art rocks!

dc: love is a battlefield: a romance-based anthology featuring a harlivy short, detailing the evolution of their relationship through the years. though it's condensed into a handful of pages, it shows probably my favorite 'redemption arc' for ivy-- in which she gets older, mellows out (in big part due to harley's influence, but also, i think, just due to the passage of time), batman and the justice league also mellow out, and then they kinda meet halfway when they realize that by compromising, they can join forces and actually make the world a better place. on the whole, it's a very sweet, emotional story.

though she’s only a supporting character in them, and they’re still ongoing series so who knows how they’ll turn out, the alternate universe titles knights of dark steel and catwoman: lonely city feature great takes on ivy, as well.

you’ll notice practically all of these recs are standalone, and don’t require immersion in any of the bigger canon titles to read. this is because getting into the meat of comic continuity is a nightmare process that is simply not worth anyone’s energy or time. there are a few points in mainline canon where i've enjoyed her characterization, like the everyone loves ivy arc starting in batman vol 3 #41, or the harley quinn and poison ivy 2019 miniseries. in my personal opinion, though, the majority of main canon arcs are so bogged down with crap that it’s just not worth it. they sprawl across a billion titles, featuring heaps of characters i don’t care about, and the plot itself is usually nonsensical at best. but yeah! if you’re interested in ivy, this list should keep you busy for a while! hope ya dig :”)

#askbox #text #poison ivy #dc comics #recs #harlivy

97 notes · View notes

saijspellhart · 3 years ago

Text

Little oneshot about Atem meeting Sphinx Yugi

Part of my Sphinx AU. Please enjoy.

Atem clutched his cloak around him, trying to settle back against the date palms again, only to sit up with a start at the rustle of leaves. The once vibrant and friendly oasis he’d happened upon in the day, had turned into an absolute nightmare as soon as the sun set.

He hadn’t managed to get a fire going, he couldn’t find anything to eat, and although the water in the massive pond looked clean and tasted good, he was convinced he’d be sick by morning.

The night was so dark, even with all the stars, he could barely make out his surroundings in the dense thickets of trees and brush surrounding the pond. He could swear something was out there. Could feel it staring at him, hunting him.

He snapped his head to the left at the sound of disturbed undergrowth, and swore he caught a glimpse of yellow eyes. Like the glowing pupils of some large animal. They disappeared almost immediately.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen them. Could be a fox, or a crocodile, perhaps a leopard, or even a hyena. Although he really doubted it was a hyena. Too quiet for that noisy pack animal. Never the less, he was convinced he was being stalked by some silent predator.

Hours were passing, and he continued his restless watch.

The night wore on leaving him more and more exhausted, and the chill set in harder. He felt cold in his bones without a fire or proper insulation from the frigid desert night.

He would die of exposure before he was ever rescued by his priests.

Atem saw the flash of yellow eyes again in his peripheral and scowled at them sleepily.

Or I’ll simply get eaten alive. What an end for a mighty Pharaoh. He should have simply died earlier in the day during the skirmish with the brigands. At least then it would have been in the service of his people, and not alone, lost in the desert, and at the jaws of local wildlife.

Another hour passed, and he couldn’t hold his head up anymore to stay alert. He was so cold.

So tired.

His eyelids drooped. And each blink was a little longer, his mind a little hazier.

He searched for the eyes in the dark, but saw nothing. He heard nothing. He couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer and he drifted out of consciousness.

0000

Atem’s world was a lot brighter when his brain clicked back into consciousness the next morning.

And warmer.

So much warmer. He’d been so cold the night before and now he was wrapped in a blanket of warmth and fluffy comfort.

It felt like his head was pillowed against a cloud. A slightly dusty, musky scented cloud with an edge of sweetness, almost like grass. It was pleasant.

In fact everything was pleasant. Even the comforting weight settled over him. Atem didn’t want to move. Didn’t even want to wake up. Instead, he inhaled the pleasant scent again and tried to drift back to sleep.

His hand reached up to sink fingers into soft fur and snuggled deeper into his pillow.

Which gasped, and shifted beneath him.

Atem’s eyes shot open, getting an eyeful of white and tawny red-gold fur. Something like a tail swished just over the swell of golden fur he’d taken a handful of. He was up in an instant, flailing against feathers, and violently slapping a large wing off of himself as he stumbled to get away.

“Ouch!” a stranger’s voice yelped.

He ended up crawling backwards through sand and grasses. Drawing his knife—his khopesh having gotten lost when his horse threw him in the strange and sudden sand storm—he pointed the blade, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the strange creature he’d been cuddled up to only moments before.

“What in Ra’s name are you?” Atem demanded.

The creature blinked large and bewitching purple eyes at him. “What does it look like?” It asked, sounding almost offended. It shook out one of its large black-tipped white feathered wings, as if shaking off pain, before gingerly folding the appendage against its back. “In fact I’m one of the god’s creatures. I’m a sphinx,” it announced rising up on its very feline paws.

This gave Atem a very good look at the creature, and yes. Yes, it was a sphinx. He quickly lowered the knife so as not to disrespect it.

It was not the type of sphinx he was most accustomed to seeing depicted in scrolls and in reliefs. That being a creature with a lion’s body and the head of a human. No, this creature had the head and torso of a human, its arms changing into a feline’s paws starting at the elbow, and its torso becoming a feline’s lower half starting at the stomach.

The stomach that Atem’s head has been pillowed against, he noted. That’s what had been so soft like a cloud. He swallowed thickly.

“It’s been awhile since a human has wandered into my oasis,” the sphinx said conversationally. It took a few steps towards Atem. “What’s your name?”

He wasn’t about to give a magical creature such as this his name. Magical creatures could do dangerous things with your name. “Atem…” the name tumbled off his tongue unbidden. Fuck. He suspected some magic must be at play, but Ra would have to smite him before he would tell this creature he was a Pharaoh. Absolutely no good would come of this creature having that knowledge.

“Atem~” the sphinx tested the name on its tongue, and smiled brightly at him. “Hi Atem! My name is Yugi,” as it introduced itself it made a tight circle giving Atem a look at its entire body from nose to the end of its stumpy tail.

It was just like a cat to give someone an eyeful of its ass. If the lack of breasts hadn’t clued him in, Atem could safely conclude that the very effeminate looking creature was indeed a male.

When Yugi turned to face him again he couldn’t quite meet the Sphinx’s eye anymore and sort of looked off to the side instead.

It was actually startling how much the Sphinx’s hair resembled Atem’s. Should he be flattered? Or maybe the sphinx was flattered. It was probably far older than him. Their hair was strikingly similar, both having flowing blonde bangs and unruly black spikes tinged with color at the tips. Although Atem’s hair ended in red, while Yugi’s seemed to be a gradient of purples and reds. That was where the similarities between them seemed to end though. Yugi had large eyes and a small nose, with a slight build and fair skin. Where as Atem had a large nose, thick brows over slanted eyes, with the build of a fighter and brown skin.

“I’m sorry for scaring you when you woke up,” Yugi dipped his head and looked genuinely apologetic.

“What was…that anyway?” Atem jerked his head at the Sphinx and reached a hand down to pluck at some grass, tearing the blades between his fingers.

“I was keeping you warm,” Yugi explained. Almost comically large cat ears flicked on either side of his head, disturbing locks of hair as they did. Atem could make out black tufts of fur on the ends of the ears that reminded him very much of a caracal. Yugi kept his distance but sat back on his haunches. His wings adjusted on his back, fluttering a bit before folding back into place. “You were so cold, shivering in your sleep, and well… the elements don’t bother me.” he shrugged. “So I curled up beside you, and covered you with my wing.”

Atem narrowed his eyes at the creature. Were sphinxes usually so kind? He couldn’t recall many stories about sphinxes but the stories he did recall they were always dangerous and tricksy. “I suppose I owe you a debt now, don’t I?” He growled out, tossing his handful of shredded grass on the sand before him.

Yugi blinked at him. “No? Oh well maybe…” he tilted his head and it looked like the wheels had begun to turn in his mind. “Why?” he asked slowly.

“Because you probably saved my life. Kept me from succumbing to exposure or something.” Atem explained impatiently. He didn’t want to be in debt to a magical creature, but he was also a Pharaoh and it could spell disaster to leave debts unpaid. Should the sphinx ever find out he was a pharaoh and decide to collect on the debt it might ask for something outrageous. Like a child, or a golden statue in its likeness, or perhaps to stay in his palace to live like a king. “Creatures like you always want payment for a life saved.”

Yugi seemed to consider this, all the while studying Atem curiously. “I suppose that’s true,” he purred. “How about we play a game? Win, and consider the debt repaid. Your life will be your own. But should you lose, then your life is mine.” This time when the little Sphinx grinned at him it was far more predatory. If he wasn’t so adorable Atem might have felt more intimidated.

A game? A smug sense of triumph curled in Atem’s stomach. A game wasn’t so bad. He was excellent at games. “What kind of game?” Atem hedged warily. Skills aside, making a deal with any magical creature was extremely dangerous, but especially with a sphinx.

Yugi laid down on the ground and crossed his front paws. “Oh, nothing complicated. Just a simple game of riddles~”

Atem adjusted until he was sitting cross-legged facing the Sphinx. He placed his hands on his knees and did his best to school his expression with confidence. “Alright then. I’ll play your game.”

“Great!” Yugi chirped happily, and his cat butt wiggled with excitement. “I will start.”

Atem bit his cheek and silently reminded himself that this cuteness was probably a facade. He would focus…and he would win.

#puzzleshipping #yugi mutou #atem #Yami yugi #pharaoh atem #yugioh #sphinx au #sphinx yugi #drabble #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #yugioh duel monsters #ygo dm #SaijSpellhart writes

67 notes · View notes

piteouspeculiarity · 4 years ago

Text

Defining Home: Extended Author's Note

Warning: This might contain spoilers for the series

(For clarity, when I say 'Tommy' etc in this post, I'm talking about the characters from my fics, not the content creators themselves.)

So it's done, huh? This note will include the sappy shit, the fun facts, then some of the more serious stuff, because I just didn't want to add an essay to the end of that chapter.

First of all, thank you all for the support along the way. Defining Home is easily my most popular series of fics I’ve ever written and I’ve been writing fanfic for years now. The comments and the kudos and the bookmarks were so very validating when I was new to the fandom, and still are. Hell, people have gifted me fics and written related fics to Defining Home, which blows my tiny mind. I haven’t gotten the chance to read a lot of them yet (procrastination I know thy name), but when I do, I’ll be leaving my best comments in thanks <3

I'll be honest, when I posted the first chapter of Enough, I never expected it to turn into what it did.

That first chapter was written in my phone notes at 3am, hours before an exam. I hadn't interacted with the fandom at all at that point, didn't even have a Tumblr for it, but boy oh boy did I get a warm welcome.

The point is, that first chapter was a very spur in the moment thing, mainly consisting of one scene I couldn't get out of my head (Tommy on a train to Wilbur's). I've gotten a few people telling me since then that they wished that they could write as well as I can, which is a huge compliment, but every person can write a fic like Enough. There are things that we all struggle with when it comes to writing: dialogue, prose, starting scenes - I have my own things I struggle with, things you might have noticed, things you might have not. You don't have to be a perfect writer to tell a story, especially in fandoms, where betas are easy to come across.

Write your story, even if its just for yourself. Posting that chapter gave me the chance to make new friends and I'll never stop being grateful for that.

One of those friends is Kat, who I've mentioned a couple times in the author's notes, but who honestly, I owe a lot to. Kat has encouraged me and been one of the main motivators to write this fic when I felt like it would never be finished, or that I'd never live up to other people's expectations. Sometimes, that meant motivating in some weird ass ways, but hey, it worked.

People who know me in discord servers might know that I'm a simp for Kat and it's damn true. Kat, I love you, you've improved my life more than you know in the last couple months and you deserve so, so much happiness.

In fear of love reciprocation from Kat, we'll move swiftly on to the more fun side of things.

Anyone feel like fun facts? You might already know some of these because I tend to overshare in author's notes, but I'm pretty sure some of them are new to all of you.

Barney the dog? Named after my own late labrador, who I love very much and loved to jump in lakes and need rescuing, time and time again.

I had no plans in moving Tommy in with Techno, hell, I had no plans in Techno moving to England at all. It was as much of a surprise to me as it was to everyone else when he told Tommy the news, but I latched onto the idea and ran with it. I think it worked out okay, in the end.

Techno has a draw in his bedroom full of parenting books, most of which were stolen from Phil.

After Tommy asked for help about what to do with Dream, Wilbur sent Dream a dm telling him he better not fuck anything up and if he did, Wilbur would not hesitate to humiliate him in front of millions of people. It was unnecessary, of course, but Dream was definitely a bit more cautious about what he said when he listened to Tommy’s explanation.

Some of my favourite things about writing Defining Home:

The Tesco v Asda discourse. Look, some of you just need to accept that Asda is the superior shop and get off your Tesco stanning bullshit. /j

The offers I would get for new chapters, some honourable mentions being newborns, siblings, diamonds and kidneys.

Now, I know that as much as I tried to, I won't have managed to include everything that everyone wanted from Defining Home, whether that's certain confrontations or scenes, I am sorry if I haven't included.

I don't imagine myself writing any more in the series, not because I think there isn't more I could write about, but because as a whole it feels complete to me, and any added oneshots I write would disturb that.

Right now Defining Home feels well rounded in a way that I'm proud of. The minute I realised that Enough was going to turn into a series I planned out how I wanted it to work. Maybe its just the maths part of my brain, but I like how there's three fics, with three chapters in each and how Tommy heals as you progress throughout the series.

My aim for the series was for the tone to get lighter as you went through, because yes, things kept happening (confrontation with dad, beach incident etc) but the point was that Tommy dealt with those things in different ways that he would have earlier on in the series. I have lots of thoughts and lots of emotions about how he felt safe enough with his family to experience nightmares and such. I made an effort in The Truth Behind Family to include more fluff, especially in the last two chapters, because I think it’s important to show that yeah, his parents’ abuse effected him, but it didn’t dictate how he lived his life.

Like yes, I could write about their first Christmas together, for example, and add it onto the series, but I don’t think that I’d be able to do the rest of the series justice in that. Defining Home is largely about what the title implies, Tommy discovering what words like ‘home’ and ‘family’ mean beyond what he’s been told he’s stuck with and I believe that by the end of the series, he’s been successful in that.

I'm so proud of the characters I wrote, Tommy in particular, for how far they've come in Defining Home, but I think that in a way, it’s time for me to let them go.

That’s not to say I’m done with writing for sbi! Hell no!

I have a couple long fics in the works and a one shot I’m working on. The main fic I’m excited to focus on now Defining Home is finished is heavy heart, heavy head, heavy hero which, to put it simply, is an sbi royalty au, where unfortunate circumstances mean Tommy is forced to become King. It’s going to be a little more plot focused than Defining Home was and I am so very pumped to give it my full attention instead of leaving that lonely one chapter on AO3 like I have been doing.

I was 🤏close to making a Discord server, but ultimately decided I’m much more suited to causing chaos on other people’s servers than running my own. I think at this point the karma would be too great to even consider making my own server, so if you’d like to talk to me on Discord, keep an eye for me on other people’s servers - I mainly lurk, but I’m pretty active on one or two :D

On a more serious note, Defining Home deals with some heavy topics and I’ve had comments tell me that they relate to Tommy’s situation and wish that they had their own found family to run to.

This Tumblr post has a list of phone numbers and places you can contact if you need help or want someone to talk to. Saying that, I recognise that a list as long as that can be daunting, so feel free to shoot me a message and I can either help you find the right one for you, or keep you company for a bit if you need it.

Not all of us are lucky enough to have our own found family, but that doesn’t mean that you won’t forever, or that you’re alone. My dms and ask box are always open if you want someone to talk to.

Keep yourselves safe <3

- Lee

135 notes · View notes

thalys-artcorner · 4 years ago

Text

A Cause to be Bothered By.

A oneshot in which Homelander actually gived a damn with the charity event assigned. Canon divergent that allowed to write...wait for...actual fluff. Bet you didn’t see that coming.

*Note: I don’t wanna say @kayemagistro made me do it, but she did provide the initiative xD Based on this post.

She wasn’t sure how much of a good idea it might be to bring Homelander along, but the powers from above had insisted, and there was only so many strings she could pull before they put her back in her place. It was a miracle already that she had managed to pick her own charity work.

But having Homelander with her? For starters, he loathed charity work. It was a waste of his precious time, devoting attention to causes he did not care for nor did he even bother to look up. He hated the idea of taking care of others, he hated the cameras following, the million questions hurting his senses, and above all, he hated weakness. And wasn’t charity all about weakness? Of helping those not strong enough to make it out on their own?

If that wasn’t enough reason, he was in one of his moods that day. One fo those unstable, volatile, violent moods in which he might even turn around and bite his own leash off just to take it out on those around him, hate them and hurt them so he wouldn’t have to face the consequences of his own emotions. He’d even lashed out at her, not caring in the slightest for the fact that she loved him, forgetting that he loved back. Then again, she had been genetically manipulated so that his powers had no effect on her, just as her own had no effect on him. Not that any of that had ever stopped them from trying in the past.

But the media loved them together, probably because they got to see so little of their relationship. That was another of her personal little triumphs. She’d managed to keep Vought’s media team out of her own relationship after showing them that the public responded better to couples who weren’t flaunting their feelings about every single day. It made them more believable. What little the public got to see of Homelander as a boyfriend humanized him in their eyes (which she knew he hated, and it had taken a whole lot of convincing, fighting and angry sex to finally get it through his thick skull that they had to feed something to the masses). Hence, him coming along to the animal shelter with her, with that cold, shiny fake smile he’d been trained to put on his face like makeup whenever the cameras flashed in their direction.

At least, so far, he looked only irritated, which was a welcome cry far from the usual expression that looked like he was wondering whether if snapping some snotty brat’s arm “by accident” might wriggle him out of the event. Probably because he was not being pestered. She hadn’t chosen an animal shelter charity thinking that he would come along, but because she loved animals. Yet it was turning out to be a smart move. “At least you won’t have anyone asking you for autographs and pictures” she’d pointed out just before coming. She’d received a bad-tempered grunt in response, which was better than some snappy remark.

After the usual tedious talk with the owners of the shelter and the promise of a considerable donation and all those annoying displays that involved actual human contact and during which she was really fearing he might break the glass of water he was holding and throw a tantrum, there came the actual interaction with the actual animals. They were brought to a wide backyard in the center of the kennels, in which they were greeted by a hoard of enthusiastic puppies of all sizes and colors, that demanded pats and kisses and belly rubs. She immediately dropped to her knees and opened her arms wide, letting them jump all over her and whimper and place lots of sloppy, wet kisses on her face. She could almost here Homelander saying “I’m not coming anywhere near you covered in dog slobber”.

She looked around for him and noticed him closer to the kennels, his back leaning against one of the cages and his bad mood strong enough for the puppies to sense it and steer clear away from him, even if the humans did not. Suddenly, his nostrils flared, and he turned around, peering inside the kennel he had been leaning against moments before. She caught sight of a figure lurking on a far corner in the back, it’s beady eyes sad and resentful. She could the white of its teeth as its upper lip curled slightly in a snarl.

“Why is this one locked up?”

Homelander surprised everyone when he spoke up after being unusually quiet during the entire event. One of the caretakers of the shelter stepped forward at a prudent distance and cleared her throat “Oh, that’s one of the newbies, sir. He arrived some time ago, after they found him in a compound that raised puppies to become dog fighters in the pit. He’s been abused pretty roughly for one so young, and he’s very aggressive. We have to keep him locked for the moment, for his own safety and those of the other puppies. Sir”.

“It’s not his fault though, is it?”

“What was that, sir?”

Homelander made a gesture with his hand, brushing off the comment “Nothing”.

She hadn’t missed the whole exchange, but as it seemed he wasn’t going to add anything or elaborate, she returned her attention back to the puppies, smiling and asking questions about them, their stories, their health to the various caretakers, while the cameras buzzed around capturing the best moments of her interaction with them so that later, thousand upon thousands of celebrity sites and talk shows would replay them over and over again, sighing over the shadow heroine who took time off fighting crime to think about the well-being of the innocent creatures nobody else bothered to think about.

She was in the middle of answering a question about the animals she had had back in the farm, when there was a sudden exclamation of alarm from one of the caretakers.

“Sir, please, you can’t open that cage!”

Homelander, without anyone really noticing, had opened the door to the aggressive puppy’s cage, and was kneeling by threshold, looking inside at the snarling animal. She could see his lips moving, all though he was murmuring too softly for anyone else to hear. One of the caretakers stepped forward, and the hero immediately raised a hand in the air to stop her.

“Stay back” he ordered through gritted teeth, his jaw set, a small muscle twitching.

“But-”

“I told you to stay back”. His voice was hard and authoritarian. And it had that dangerous edge it had been carrying all day. Yet after a moment, his jaw relaxed ever so slightly, and he started murmuring to the dog inside the kennel again.

It was time to intervene.

She rose to her feet and crossed her arms over her chest “Everybody leave us for a moment, please. Take these little fellows too, if you would be so kind”.

For a second, nobody moved. She glared at the owner director of the shelter pointedly, a stare that allowed no argument and that she usually reserved for criminals. It worked, and everyone, including the camera crew, were soon hurrying out, picking up the puppies with them, until the backyard was completely clear, except for her, Homelander, and the puppy inside the kennel. Slowly, she approached them, until she was able to crouch beside him and gently rest a hand on his shoulder.

“John?” she called out now that they were alone.

He didn’t reply, still focused on the dog in front of them. It had stopped snarling, and was now standing a few steps away from them, its belly pressed to the ground as he slowly, warily, crawled towards Homelander’s extended gloved hand. Its black lips twitched from time to time, and its hair was standing on end, but he nonetheless drew closer, until his nose was only a few centimeters away from Homelander’s hand.

“Make way for him” the man whispered, as he too took a step to the side, clearing the doorway for the dog. It hesitated. And then, finally, stepped out onto the grass with unsure footsteps.

For a long moment, the puppy simply stood there, as if it could not quite believe it was outside, free, and nobody was stopping him or forcing him back to his cage. It looked like a mixed breed, something halfway between a Pitbull and a Rottweiler. How stereotypical. It blinked under the sunlight, and then, finally, sat on its hunches first, and then extended out his front legs, and laid down in the sun.

Then Homelander reached out to him. The animal immediately snapped and revealed its fangs once more, growling. Homelander pulled his hands back, an obviously outraged frown on his face. And for a moment, she feared he might cut it in half. But his expression eventually softened. He peeled off his glove, and reached out again, this time ever so slowly, making sure the puppy was catching every one of his movements and not taken by surprise. The puppy didn’t growl but stared at him warningly. Finally, it allowed the superhero to rest his hand on its back and pet him. The hair along his back stopped raising, and suddenly, its eyes weren’t glazed with anger anymore.

She released the breath that until then, she hadn’t realized she had been holding, still not quite sure what it was that she was seeing. He’d actually taken the time to coax the puppy out of its cage, and instead of lashing out when it had rejected his initial approach, changed his strategy to suit the animal’s needs. She had never seen him go to such effort for someone else, not in a long, long time; except perhaps for her.

Slowly, mimicking his actions, she reached out to the puppy, whispering soothing words to it. It allowed her to pet him too, and while Homelander scratched it behind the ears, she ran her hand along its back.

And then, as if the entire situation wasn’t already unexpected enough, the little fellow flopped onto his back and exposed is dark brown belly to them, demanding belly rubs. Belly rubs!

“John” she called at him again “What the hell are you doing exactly?”

“Aggressive my ass” he finally said, his eyes never leaving the puppy as it started to twitch one of its hind legs “He’s just tired of being locked up in a fucking cage, with people ordering him about and calling him out”.

Suddenly, everything made sense. Her eyes opened in realization, and she breathed out softly “Does he sound familiar to you?”

Homelander finally lifted his face to look at her. His blue eyes were soft, showing genuine emotion for the first time that day. It seemed like his anger had finally subdued. In his gaze, she actually saw the implicit apology for his behavior towards her earlier that day. Homelander never apologized, but she knew how to look for that feeling in his eyes. They could be almost naively transparent when he wasn’t thinking.

“Someone should have bothered to ask him what he wanted. Maybe if they stopped treating him like a potential killing machine, he wouldn’t be all growls and snaps” he shrugged.

The puppy emitted a playful yelp. It sat back up, and stepped closer to Homelander, until it rested its snout on top of his knees and looked up to him. Grateful. Trusting. Every so slightly, its short tail wiggled.

And then, without any explanation, Homelander scooped him up and rose to his feet. She rose with him, still not quite believing her eyes. “I know that look. What exactly are you planning?” she knew that determined set on his jaw when he set his mind on something.

“I think he’s seen enough of kennels to last a lifetime. I’m taking him with us. If these people won’t bother to actually treat him according to his needs, then…” suddenly he stopped, as if he had just realized what he had been about to say. His expression was almost comical as he cleared his throat “Well…he shouldn’t be here anyways”.

She cracked a grin, and took a step closed to rub the puppy’s head. It had started to doze off in Homelander’s arms. The hero, after a moment, reached out and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

“You do realize they’re going to lose their shit back at the tower with a dog running about, right?”

Homelander looked at her, his face serious. He didn’t care. He’d do as he damn well pleased. She knew that look. It said mine. Suddenly, he grinned at her, before looking down at the dozing pup in his arms. “I’d be disappointed if they didn’t. How about you, buddy?”

#homelander #the boys #i don't know what this is #i can't believe im saying this but homelander said dog rights?#my writing

44 notes · View notes

vegalocity · 3 years ago

Text

Aftermath (Animorphs AU)

You know I could write down a proper AU summary for this story

ooorrrr I could post an emotionally charged oneshot that spoils an early-story twist that will hurt people already invested in this AU in their heart places, and maybe get some more people interested

TW suicide mention

The whole plan for tonight had gone absolutely pear-shaped. They'd just been intending on having Sun Wukong act as a distraction for Visser 3, be what he was looking for on his assignment for a better host for the new Visser 2, play the run-around for long enough that at least one of his fleet's ships would be touched down for long enough for their new alien friend—Aximili—to hijack their communications array and make contact with his people to hopefully get some much needed reinforcements here quicker.

Pigsy, the kids, and the Monkey King had been on the 'distraction' team while Aximili and Tang went into the ship to get a message out to the Aximili's people.

And... they did. Or rather, Aximili could put together a rudimentary communicator now. But it didn't come without a price.

Visser 3 had wanted his higher up to be there when they infested Sun Wukong with Visser 2. And that he'd captured 'the Andelite Bandits' had only made it all the more tempting to pull Visser 1 from their tour of the 'mothership' and come to observe.

This was the greatest general the empire had to offer, the single most powerful enemy on the other side of the war through sheer military might, and Pigsy's first thought had been 'Is that really it?' He was using a human host. Not something to command respect like Visser 3's Andelite host, or something terrifying and striking to remind all who ever looked upon him why he was one of the most powerful men in his side's empire. He looked... normal.

He was dressed in the same geometrically designed military-dress uniform as Visser 3, though it was gold accentuating the black of the uniform instead of the deep red that Visser 3 and his troops sported. Visser 1's host was a slightly younger man, Mid-to-late thirties, maybe a little older, Dark eyes, the faintest softness around his cheeks and middle. He looked bored. Not fierce or angry or even cold and ruthless, just bored. He felt like it was a bit anticlimactic, though his gut turned in a sort of sadness he couldn't quite understand. Then he'd seen Sun Wukong fall to his knees in his periphery.

He'd... he'd never thought he would see the Monkey King look so small before. They all had to allow themselves to be captured at first to give Aximili and Tang the time necessary to properly find what they needed, but... it suddenly became obvious that they couldn't rely on the unrelenting force of Sun Wukong to break them out when the time came.

Pigsy, frightened but hiding behind the instincts and hind brain of the tiger he was morphed into, watched the Monkey King begin to tremble, his tail going limp and his expression dropping into naught but dread, shock and heartbreak, fearless golden eyes suddenly springing with tears, as the most powerful of their alien foes stepped from the landing dock of the fighter ship, his own brow raising in a simple curiosity.

For a moment the Visser's brow twitched, the corner of his mouth pinched, a fist tightened into the hem of his dress shirt. Common signs of a host fighting the Yeerk inside. But it ended just as quickly.

He watched Wukong mouth something to himself. And exactly how fucked up the situation was had become clear.

'Master'

And he didn't even have the courtesy of that remaining something private, as Visser 1 had immediately recognized Wukong, leaned in close as if he wanted to rub the reality of the situation in his face, and stated idly, as if commenting on the weather. “This host knows you, Pilgrim Sun. How long has it been since you've seen this face? Fifty Years? Sixty? I'll admit I don't quite remember how long its been myself. Time flies much faster in an immortal body I've learned.”

Visser 1 had the body of Tang Sanzang. Sun Wukong's former master, and the confirmation that even true immortals weren't safe from the control of the Yeerks.

They'd gotten out of there by the skin of their teeth, Just happening to pick up on how obviously the two Visser's couldn't stand eachother. Visser 1 had helped them escape to embarrass Visser 3, on the condition they never reveal his aid, and Aximili got out of there with the parts necessary to eventually make a communicator capable of sending a message to the Andelite Homeworld.

But it still felt like a failure.

Sun Wukong hadn't spoken for hours, that shocked, horrified look in his eye hadn't faded. The only person who could get a response out of him had been Sandy, and even then it was only really single words and he wasn't paying attention. And at the moment he was sat at the barstool Tang usually occupied while the others either decompressed or tried to weasel more information out of Aximili about the way to contact his home, staring into the coutnertop but clearly not seeing anything beyond what was playing behind his eyes.

Pigsy was feeling pretty jittery himself, as usual for whenever he was involved in a mission, and opted to make a bowl for the shellshocked simian as something to do with his hands. Besides, he probably needed it more than anyone else right now.

He was right in the middle of prepping the vegetables when Wukong spoke.

“This was gonna be my last run. Did you know that?” He looked over and, though the hollowed out, shocked look hadn't faded from the Monkey King's face, he had turned his eyes toward Pigsy. “Not like this particular mission but... this... this war. Aliens. I figured of there was anything that was gonna be my last it should be aliens.”

Pigsy tried not to scowl. He still had more than a few words to say about the Monkey King throwing his kid into danger headfirst with all of this 'successor' nonsense, but... truth be told he supposed it was probably a good thing in the end, cuz if he hadn't then Xiaotian and Xiaojiao may never have found the Andelite ship crashing, they wouldn't have known about the secret war until it was far too late to do anything.

Didn't make him any less pissed that it was his kid and his people that had to be the ones fighting, but he supposed he might get over that in the long run. “Last one till you retired fully?” he prompted, and Sun Wukong huffed, he smiled but it was a thin, wavering thing.

“Last one till I wrote my name back in the ledgers of the dead.”

He nearly sliced his hand open.

“What?!” it came out far louder, far harsher than something of that nature should be, so Pigsy quickly corrected himself “What?” he hissed instead. But Sun Wukong was looking back down at the counter, still smiling that grim joyless smile and tracing the grain with a finger.

“I mean, why else would I even want a successor?” he responded as though it explained everything. “When I first found Xiaotian... everyone else was gone. You know-” he made a strangled noise that sounded like it was almost a laugh “Back before the Journey I only really had my people, and it was easy to be old Grandpa Sun with them, I had a handful of other immortal monkeys I was able to snatch from the ledgers of the dead, I had my four generals, it was easy. But then the Journey happened and I just HAD to go and get attached to other people. Then Baije died, and Wujing vanished, and-” he rested his head on his folded arms. “We found Baije's body, but by the time the century mark passed and none of us heard anything, we could only assume Wujing had died too.”

Ironic considering what they'd so recently learned about Sandy.

“Longma had moved on he got married he had a family I wasn't gonna burden him with me just because I was feeling lonely, by the time I decided to return to my mountain Master was the only one who still bothered to visit. And... about fifty years ago I thought I could try to return to the world and move forward again, so I went to visit HIM instead and-” he furrowed his brow.

“Maybe all the monks at the monastery he'd been staying at were controllers at that point. They told me he had chosen to reincarnate again and left. He didn't even decide to tell me.

“I thought he'd just grown tired of me, My moping. That I suddenly wasn't worth even saying a proper goodbye to. And suddenly I was alone again.”

“But Sandy is-”

“Sandy is Wujing, yeah. I didn't know that, he certainly didn't give me any reasons to think he was still out there.” he watched Wukong's fist tighten for just a moment before going loose again, as if he didn't have the energy to hold onto whatever resentment had been trying to poke its way out “I thought I was alone. And it hit me how much I'd started hating that. I figured, hey, the only thing I haven't done yet is die. The only thing I've had the will to do for decades is get a lawyer to oversee Monkey King properties to keep tabs on my own legacy, Hell, I helped develop a videogame that was just ninety percent for me to linger on the cutscreens and pretend my dead friends were still there.”

“So that's when...”

“That's when I started looking for a successor, looking for Xiaotian.” Pigsy was really starting to hate that joyless grin and he'd only been looking at it for a few minutes. “I was tired, Pigsy, I still am. I never thought I'd be this tired of being alive, but it took a whole hell of a lot of effort to NOT just do it right after I passed the title to the kid. I figured I should stick around until he's ready to stand on his own.”

“So what, after that you were just gonna up and leave too? Make sure the kid got nice and attached before feeding his abandonment complex?” Well, he regretted tacking that last part on the second it left his mouth, not exactly a delicate way of handling someone who'd said they were, for all intents and purposes suicidal nice job Pigsy; sure enough he watched the Monkey King flinch.

“You're a younger demon Pigsy, you don't know what its like to be a relic of a time long passed. To feel like the world around you is always too fast or too bright now and there's overwhelming sensations everywhere and the only people you would have been okay braving it with are all long gone.”

“But Sandy's-”

“Yes I know!” for just a moment the tired look was gone as frustration caused Wukong to thump his hands to the counter and stand. “I know! Okay? But I didn't know then! I didn't know until Two fucking days ago Pigsy! And now there's... This!” the spark had been quick to go out as exhaustion returned to the Monkey king and he slumped back into his seat. “Master....” his voice was barely over a whisper. “They took him. They took him and they put one of them in his head. He got kidnapped again and this time they did something to him he can't shake because if he could he would have done it already, and I didn't even look into it! I was so blinded by my own insecurities that I didn't really mean anything to him that I didn't even THINK that something strange may have happened!” He was starting to gather steam, so Pigsy wisely stayed quiet and tended to the noodles.

“They TOOK HIM! They made him one of them! He's enlightened! He's immortal! How the hell could they do that?! I'm Immortal! We were always under the impression that if anyone was safe from these things it was me but that's not a thing anymore! And my-! My fucking master is one of them now....” his spark kept brightening then putting itself out immediately, Wukong laid his head onto the counter, cushioned by folded arms.

“How scary is it? To have something like that put in your head? Something gross and cold and evil and it doesn't care about anything you do, and you can't do anything about it because suddenly its calling the shots for every part of you.” Pigsy could admit he didn't know, nor did he want to know the answer personally. “How long have I been failing him and leaving him alone in that torment?”

Well, that was enough of that.

“Knock it off, you couldn't have known. Aliens didn't exist as a concept for us until what, a century ago?” He wasn't exactly an aficionado on science fiction, but he was pretty sure little green men from another world were a new-ish invention for the people of this world.

“Around....” He responded, but otherwise looked just as upset as before. Pigsy huffed and set the bowl infront of him.

“Here. Get something in your system thats not your own damn hair.” Sun Wukong stared at the bowl set before him as though it were about to grow teeth and bite at his fingers.

“I'm... I'm not hungry.”

“I doubt anyone WOULD be, but you do need to eat, at least to settle your stomach after something like that.”

Sun Wukong relented after a moment and took the bowl offered, but he wasn't eating, just warming his hands on the edge of the bowl.

“Look, Monkey Kin- Wukong.” He looked up at him again. “I can't say I know much of anything about what specifically you must be going through right now. The only person we've actually known before they got infested was the friggin' Bull King. But if there's any way to look at it, try this.”

He placed a hand on the counter and leaned in, a bit too close to Sun Wukong for his comfort as he watched the Monkey lean back a bit to avoid bumping noses. “They just made this personal, made a big damn mistake in messing with one of yours, didn't they?” he lowered his voice into a growl, and Sun Wukong blinked owlishly at him, Pisgy pretended not to see the faint pink outline around his eyes. “You really gonna spend so much time moping, or are we gonna make these fuckers pay for putting their grimy hands on your master?”

Sun Wukong stared at him for an extra moment, and he could have sworn he saw a flash of gold light that usually indicated those fancy 'truth seeing' eyes before he gave him, finally, a real grin. His brow was still furrowed in distress and when he let out a quiet laugh, it looked a hell of a lot like he was biting back tears still, But it looked sincere.

“You remind me of someone I lost a long time ago, did I ever mention that?”

“Should I be taking that as a compliment?”

“You definitely should. He was overdramatic as well, but in a strange way he really knew when it mattered to do or say something.” Somehow Pigsy had the feeling that he knew exactly who he was being compared to, but he supposed that was trauma to unpack another day.

“I'm not gonna tell you to eat another time, but I will say if it's not at least started by the time the others start filtering in Tang will try to snatch it from you.”

#lego monkie kid #lmk Sun Wukong #LMK Pigsy #monkie kid #crossovers #animorphs AU #animorphs #hey I had to put the book 5 twist somewhere #it wouldn't be Animorphs without the Book 5 twist #vega writes stories too

12 notes · View notes

nbrook29 · 4 years ago

Text

💞 My ultimate Sobbe fic recs 💞

Recently, I have gone through Robbe/Sander tag on ao3 and I decided to compose a list of fics that are absolute gems for me. A few disclaimers first:

✔ I didn’t include works in progress (WIPs), however I did include fics that are only on tumblr

✔ the order of the fics below is random

✔ this is the list of my personal favorites so if your favorite fic is not on the list it doesn’t mean it’s bad or that I consider it bad - we just vibe with different things :)

✔ if there’s a fic on this list that you decided to give a shot and loved it, please remember about leaving a comment under it to let the author know that

✔ I’ve been trying to add the “read more” thingy but it doesn’t show, I’m sorry, I know long posts are annoying af

under 1k

we’re keeping it simple by noobishere | G

Summary: Sander comes over unannounced and attacks Robbe’s very person (a.k.a the one where Sander teases Robbe on Eenvoud)

This is a guaranteed mood lifter. It’s short, sweet, to the point, and oh so funny. The banter. And I’d die to see that in the show.

1k - 5k

Fizzy Colas by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Let’s say this is a clip (hopefully not as short as the standard 1:40 of this season) with Sander as the main on a ‘bros night out’ 🍻

This author is my queen/king alright? They take a simple idea and turn it into the most lovely/cute/soft story. This fic is exactly that. Sobbe’s chemistry here is out of this world and the banter is to die for.

high for this by flowersmaze (@bowieskam) | G

Summary: In which Sander remains a Flirt™ and in love with Robbe even when he can’t feel his face after a medical procedure

The summary says it all. Loopy Sander is the cutest and funniest thing.

Pull Me from the Dark by TheOceanIsMyInkwell (@theoceanismyinkwell) | T

Summary: Sander discovers that Robbe has recently been prescribed antidepressants, and Robbe opens up to him about the night he almost stepped off the bridge. Only love will show how much they’ve grown and pull them through.

This time, the boys talk about Robbe’s mental state which is unusual in fics. This oneshot is communication 101. And this line is just 👌🏻 “But after the dust of their first kiss and their first vows of commitment settled around them, Robbe took a look at the space in which he floated and realized, somewhere along the line, that finding the love of your life doesn’t fix you.”

diminuendo by noobishere

Summary: Waking up feels like an ordeal. His eyes are heavy, arms a dead weight, he isn’t sure if his limbs are even in the right places, but eventually, Sander comes to. (a.k.a a take on how Sander fairs after Robbe left for school.)

Sander’s POV after Dinsdag 7:27. It’s a great insight into his headspace during that time. This could be a scene in the show because it fits so well.

you’re wonder under summer sky by nothingbutniall | M

Summary: Two city boys go camping. What could go wrong? (Everything, apparently.)

Those boys are a chaotic mess okay? They’re such dorks. This fic has the best kind of grumpiness there is and sobbe is written so in character here.

if we can make it through december (maybe we’ll make it through forever) by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Robbe and Sander at the Christmas market.

Can you imagine those two dorks at the Christmas market? Well you don’t have to anymore because this fic is everything you need and more. And this line “Couldn’t,” Sander sulks. “You can’t hold hands properly with mittens on.” makes me go all gooey inside every.single.time 😍

A New Sunday Feeling by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: Sander before Robbe: Ugh, Sundays 😒 Sander after Robbe: 😏🥺🥰

The way this author writes sobbe’s intimate moments is just pure talent. They have such way with words.

memories painted with much brighter ink by nothingbutniall | G

Summary: Saint Nicholas is the perfect excuse for an evening of gifts and banter with the flatshare. (Basically all five of them being cute together, and then Robbe and Sander being cute with just the two of them.)

This is the perfect fic for an October evening, when Christmas is just around the corner and you’ve just made yourself a cup of coffee and want to read some heart-warming well-written christmassy fluff.

5k - 10k

Let’s Dance by msleviss (@sander-driesen) | G

Summary: Robbe and his friends go to a club to check out Amber’s DJ cousin.

THIS PERSON PREDICTED DJ SANDER Y’ALL. And Robbe thirsts over him. And there is an instant connection. And Robbe dances. And it’s so cute.

video phone by tokyometropolis (@luludemauryyy) | E

Summary: AKA OH MY GOD, THEY WERE QUARANTINED…except not together, because life is cruel. Thankfully it’s 2020 and when Robbe has an…er…intense dream about Sander in the middle of the night, all he has to do is press one button and Facetime him about it. Thing is…sometimes FaceTiming isn’t enough.

Look. I get that smut fics are not everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s totally fine. But. If you’re looking for a well-written smut that’s in character and where you can feel the love between the characters, this is it. Hands down. Sorry not sorry 💁🏼‍♀️

10k - 20k

our camp of dreams by robbesanderx (@robbesdriesen) | M

Summary: a summer camp!AU where robbe and sander are both co-counselors

Misunderstandings lead to pining. Teenage angst at its finest. I really like camp stories, it’s my thing.

Falling For You by silver_etoile (@azozzoni) | T

Summary: Robbe only knows one thing about football: that Sander Dreisen is the hottest player on the FC Utrecht team. When Jens drags him to a match, the last thing Robbe expects is to meet someone so perfect, and it’s all he can do not to mess it up, but will he succeed?

Sobbe in a different setting with a bit different dynamic yet still having that special something. It’s a nicely written story of the development of their relationship, first meeting, falling in love, ups and down, all the best things in fics. And Sander as a soccer player is a pretty 🔥 concept (and I think Robbe agrees).

This isn’t our first time around by noobishere | E

Summary: One moment they are in the kitchen of their shared apartment, the next, they’re in this strange but familiar room.(a.k.a the au in which they accidentally go hopping through multiple universes)

The universe takes matters into their own hands and shows those silly boys that they are meant to be. Sign me up for the ride.

Coffee and Croques by peaceoutofthepieces (@peaceoutofthepieces) | G

Summary: Sander works at the on-campus coffee shop with Eliott, and he might just have a crush on the cute boy in the brown coat.

I’m a sucker for coffeshop fics. There is just something so good about them. This one is the coffeshop!AU that sobbe deserves. Oh the pining, and the secretive looks, the silly boys, and a pinch of Elu. Me likey ☕

The finest of the meadow by allforyoumylove | M

Summary: The universe brings two lonely boys together in a flowering meadow. They fall for each other fast and hard among delicate daisies, warm summer breezes, and shooting stars.

This is magical. My comment on the work was “So soft, so beautiful, so THEM, ugh.” and I MEANT that. This is just the right amount of sweetness. This is a must read. I’m not messing around.

two side of the same coin series by MajorAccent (@acespaceacepilot) | E

Summary: the valleys and mountains of sander’s bpd

How the boys handle Sander’s ups and downs. Robbe being the best boyfriend ever. I love how good he is for Sander, being there for him, not treating him like a baby, and not controlling him. How much he tries to make it at least a little bit easier for him. If you don’t want to read explicit stories, at least give the first part a try since it’s not E rated.

Zaterdag 9:58 by Foxsake5 | M

Summary: What happened after the croissants dropped to the floor 🥐🤭💕

I meant it when I said Foxsake5 has great way with words. Every single piece of theirs is just “chef’s kiss”. This fic is a definition of a domestic fic. Oh, and it happened. Totally. It’s my headcanon now.

its an unrequited love by eggsntoast | G

Summary: Sander works part-time at a museum every Sunday. Robbe is a frequent visitor.

A Sander POV fic. I was sold from the beginning. The development of their relationship here is so cute, and they’re being so stupid with their pining instead of just talking to each other and you just want to shake them but at the same time you’re rooting for them so hard. Oh and did I mention pining?

20k+

Jij Verliest series by ravenbrenna09 (@djsander) | M

Summary: For the past three months, Robbe’s life—and what it once was—had been stripped away and rearranged. Now, if anything, his life had become a bit repetitive: homework, stream, ignore Thomas’s Instagram, repeat. But one Friday evening, Robbe meets a hurricane in the form of a platinum-haired tattoo artist who just might show him everything that he’s been missing.

This is a long series okay? But oh so worth it. It’s captivating and you don’t want to stop until you finish. And once you finish you’re sad it’s over even though you’ve just spent 8 fucking hours reading it. It’s amazing. But you probably know that because it’s quite popular (rightfully so). The best thing is that you expect it to go bad halfway through because it’s difficult to keep the quality on the same level in a fic that long. But it doesn’t.

Visitations by lucidpantone (@lucidpantone) | E

Summary: Does Robbe and Sander’s relationship survive into adulthood. This fic takes place in two simultaneously timelines: the past and the present.The present occurs in one entire day. Both timelines are completely out of chronological order. Everything is in clips.You can be dropped in at anytime of the day in any timeline. So clip by clip you will need to piece together what happen to Sander & Robbe and why the present looks the way it does and what happened in the past that got them there.This love story is a journey. So be prepared.In the words of one of our Even’s. It’s a complicated love story between complicated people.

This is not a regular fic. The author put so much thought into it, there are so many gems, so many little things that you have to pay attention to because it.all.matters. And there is not one interpretation. Don’t you just love when a story forces you to think and use your brain? Cause I do. Not gonna lie: this story hurts, and like the author says themselves, it’s a journey. But oh my god get in because it’s amazing. And the ending is just sjsjsjsjsddhdhsdsgdsg 🤯

the night we met by themoongirl (@dearsander) | T

Summary: Robbe Ijzermans has a brain that won’t let him sleep, a chest that feels far too heavy and thoughts that never stop.During his first year of college he meets Sander Driesen. Robbe finds what he never went looking for.

A college AU. This fic is a journey of pain and fluff and humor. It has awesome friendships. And sobbe falling in love. And liminal spaces. I read it a while ago so I don’t remember it as well as the others but you know what? I still remember that it was great and I’m lowkey happy I don’t remember it that well because now I can go and read it again.

The Stars Look Very Different by @peaceoutofthepieces

Summary: Robbe is bored. He’s bored of listening to his friends talking about girls, and his other friends making out, and no one ever doing anything. He’s tired of having to put in all the work, of making his own fun. He’s tired of feeling nothing so he doesn’t have to feel like nothing. His party stunts are pushing the limit, his thrill seeking beginning to worry even his friends, and his carelessness is toeing the line of dangerous.

He’s a little tired of being ‘dangerous’, too.

Sander may or may not have a crush on the older boy with the apparent death wish. He wouldn’t mind a little danger.

Once I started reading this fic, each day I was waiting for an update at the edge of my seat which was a feeling I expected from s4 that did not deliver. TSLVD definitely delivered. My favorite sobbe social media AU

Ziggy Stardust Series by skamsnake (@skamsnake) | M/E

A collection of fics taking place throughout the season. Most of them are E rated so be aware of that but it’s a really cool mixture of fluff and spice *fans myself*

#wtfock #sobbe #robbe x sander #wtfock fanfic #sobbe fanfic #SHOW UP IN THE TAG

200 notes · View notes

miracle-sham · 3 years ago

Text

Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 3: Grave} |

| Soulmates, are a tricky thing. It's said they're the person who best fits you. Everyone goes through life with half of their Soulmate's soul beside them in the form of an animal that represents the soulmate. |

| Marinette always thoughts she'd get to meet her Soulmate and the other half of her soul one day, and now she never will. Jason never wanted to meet his soulmate or be reunited with the other half of his soul. And now, like Romeo and Juliet, they've truly become star-crossed Soulmates. |

| Word Count: 1,371. |

| Warnings/Tags: Soulmate Au, Major Character Death/Implied Death/Temporary Death/Not Really Dead, Death Related Injuries/Injury Recovery, Miscommunication, Loss of Soulmate, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language/Swearing, Starcrossed Soulmates, Wakes & Mentions of Funerary Customs/Traditions. |

———

| A/N: Okay so there's only one song on this one's playlist but c'mon, look my written words in the eyes and tell me that isn't the perfect Jasonette song. Yeah, exactly. Also Choo Choo dear readers, I'm back on the angst train. Grab your tissues and some liquid to hydrate yourself because if you aren't crying by the end of this, then I've failed my job <3 |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It isn't a grave. An important difference, Marinette thinks to herself hollowly. There's a dull pang in her chest, and the constant ache of all her many, many still healing injuries. She shouldn't be up and about yet, it's only been a day since she was discharged from hospital. Her parents and the doctors would have kittens. But Marinette needs to do this. And she's already crawled her way up to her balcony chair (though with a little miraculous help of course). Because it isn't a grave but it might as well be one.

It's a simple little thing really, and yet… Yet it's a lot of things.

A shrine, well an altar. On the half wall besides her balcony chair. It's a small stone slab with a lit incense holder in the middle, and a few lit candlesticks in each of the front two corners of the slab. Behind the incense holder, in the back two corners are two bouquets of marigolds, white lilies, and yellow and white chrysanthemums. And in front of the incense holder, is a single photo of her soulmate familiar and all that she has left of her soulmate; Buddy the german shepherd.

Five days ago, her soul bond shattered. Her soulmate familiar nearly shattered too. It was a miracle Buddy only fell into a pseudo-coma instead. Unlike her though, he's yet to wake up. And considering the situation, he may never. One of the doctors—a soulmate related injuries specialist—had said it's rare but not unheard of for that to happen when the human counterpart to their soul familiar dies. And the final damning nail in the coffin was Marinette's own soul familiar counterpart appearing at some point after she had fallen into the three day coma. After all, it's common knowledge that once a soulmate died, you become reunited with the other half of your soul—your soul familiar counterpart.

Marinette doesn't know what happened to her soulmate's body (if there even is one left, considering the injuries found on her and her soul familiar counterpart). Nor does she have any memorabilia or anything that once belonged to her soulmate. And she certainly doesn't know where he was from and if he would've had any preferred cultural funeral rites. So the best she can give him right now, are the typical funeral flowers her parents both recommended, alongside candles and incense. Somewhat plain and generic almost but it's something, and it's better than nothing.

She chokes back a sob and rubs at her red eyes. “It's not fair… I thought Ladybug's were supposed to be lucky.”

There's a faint pitter-patter and a few droplets splatter against the altar. She blinks and glances upwards, briefly wondering if it is starting to rain. But the cloudless sky is all an answer she needs, along with the realisation of dampness on her cheeks and hands. She blinks again, and a few more tears fall.

Tikki makes a small noise of sadness, and gives Marinette one of those tiny little hugs she always gives.

Still, the grief hurts. Marinette will never get to know who her soulmate was. His name, what he looked like, how he smiled, his accent, what he liked, his favourite things, any stupid habits or mannerisms.

And she will never get to know if her soulmate even has a grave already. She could always ask Tikki, she's right there. But the kwami is stressed enough as it is that Marinette fell comatose for three days and nearly died from the injuries inflicted on her soul familiar counterpart. And five days without a proper Ladybug (and not just Master Fu stepping in out of necessity) protecting Paris has started to visibly take its toll on Tikki.

So, Marinette's little altar isn't a grave but it's where she's burying her grief and wishing the ladybug miraculous could do something to fix this.

———

It's not a fucking grave. If Jason had a choice, he'll never let his soulmate be buried in one of those fuckers ever, y'know just in case she ever ends up like him and is forced to crawl out her own grave. But he hasn't got a fucking choice because who knows who or where his soulmate is and what happened to her after he became a dead robin.

Well other than the fact, she's un-fucking-doubtedly dead and it's all his fucking fault, obviously. It's been six months since he crawled out his grave, and Talia had said the Lazarus Pit could heal broken soul bonds and soulmate familiars that died with the soulmate. Clearly fucking wrong seeing as his bond is still shattered as fuck and there's been no sign of Jules—the naturally shifting little soulmate familiar he used to adore. The kinda weird and scrappy looking calico tabby kitten that according to the internet was a cornish rex, that would sometimes shift into an even tinier, very round and fluffy hamster.

And Jason's spent enough time on the streets as a kid to know what happens to the human counterpart when their soul familiar counterpart snuffs it. If he's lucky, she'll be in a coma and will never wake up. And if he's unlucky, then she'll be six feet under like he was. Either way, she's paying for his fuck ups and deserves way better.

A small part of him wonders if that makes them star-crossed lovers. Like a reverse Romeo and Juliet—fucking ironic considering R&J were the inspiration behind Jules' name. He died, and came back only to find irrefutable evidence that his soulmate's dead—or might as well be—because of him dying first, and she'll never know he survived dying.

“It's not fair!” Jason snarls at his fate, vision staining green for a split second. He grits his teeth and glares down at the little altar he's set up in the corner of his room in whatever league of assassins' compound this is. It's got a single lit candle in each corner of the altar—a substitute for how there's supposed to be a burning candle at each corner of a coffin. Still doesn't make it a fucking grave though.

There's also a few bunches of flowers scattered across the middle of the altar—mostly marigolds, with a few white lilies, a couple black roses, a single pheasant's-eye, and a small handful of asphodels. It hadn't been easy to get them, especially since he couldn't exactly leave the compound yet. But Jules and his soulmate deserved this at least.

Marigolds for grief, white lilies more for the funeral staple than the meaning, black roses for death and mourning, pheasant's-eye for painful recollections, and asphodels for my regrets follow you to the grave.

Fucking ironic, seeing as it's on altar and not a grave.

The worst fucking part of being here, was losing Jules. The one fucking constant in his shitty life. Batman replacing him fucking stung alright, and he's never particularly cared for soulmates, yeah. He's seen and heard more than plenty horror stories growing up, and considering how small and cute Jules is, no way would've his soulmate survived Gotham. It's not like he cared too much about meeting her or whatever, but she was fucking innocent and now she's fucking dead. So yeah, she gets asphodels on her altar because he regrets being the reason she and Jules got shattered.

And the pheasant's-eye, well Talia and all the fucking assassins in this hell hole aren't giving him the chance to hold a wake for either of them. And it's not like he knows shit about her or has anything of hers to sit on the altar. He hasn't even got anything left of Jules 'cept his fucking memories. So all he can really do is recount his own memories of her to himself. Maybe he should write 'em down in a book or something…

All in all, it ain't a fucking grave. But it might as well be one because it's where he's burying his memories and feelings. After all, an assassin without a soulmate familiar, or a soulmate, is a lot harder to kill. 'Least he's got that going for him now. But Jules and his soulmate still didn't fucking deserve dying only for him to survive alone.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Quick reasons behind the Soul Familiar names and species, whilst I know Jason canonically is bad at naming, he's also a literature nerd so hence why he called his soulmate's familiar Juliet, also because it shifts form he can't call it Cat or Hamster. The hamster is because well this is half of Marinette's soul, let's be real, and the cat is because Calicos are seen as lucky and also I thought a Cornish Rex because they're highly intelligent, active, and affectionate and I think that fits Marionette pretty well. As for why Marinette has Buddy, it's purely because Jason reminds me of a German Shepherd and I feel Marinette would've wanted to become friends with her Soulmate as soon as she understood it as a kid, so hence the name buddy. It's not fully accurate to her canon naming skills, but that doesn't matter. |

| If you've been around since the early days of my Maribat/MLB Tumblr side acc, then this premise might sound familiar. Yeah, you've guessed it! It's the Jasonette version of my MTSPY au (rip, I'll get to writing it one day, maybe), aka/originally called LYLaLYL or Lose Your Love and Lose Your Life. I decided since I love the au but I want to re-use a lot of it but with some minor to significant changes. Anyway, if those au names are familiar/you've been around for my last year's content, then here have a virtual hug from me! 🫂 If you can't see this emoji, it's the weird two blue humanoid blobs hugging emoji. Yeah. |

| On a sidenote if there's an obvious difference in writer's voice for the end/beginning notes, tags, and summary, that's because I'm writing this very sleep deprived at 4am and may have gone slightly feral. Yeah. Don't do what I'm doing, get some sleep folks. Half the tags were written at the much more reasonable hour of ten to midnight instead though. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 3 #Jasonette July Grave #Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls #MMCOSS #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

25 notes · View notes

chunhua-s · 4 years ago

Note

congrats on your milestone event!!! id like to request for kita soulmate!au with angst to fluff genre 👉👈 yknow sumn rejection shit bcs im hopeless like that wehee once again congrats! and i love your writing style :3

anon you’re gonna make me cry 🥺 seriously i’m happy you enjoy my writing and that you think my style’s okay! most of the time i go off of what kind of feelings i get when i’m writing or the imagery that comes up in my head and i’m never sure that it translates well enough for you guys to feel or see the same thing. hopefully as i keep writing then i’ll be able to show you guys what’s on my mind better when i’m writing! thank you again for requesting — seriously, it means a lot! and like always, you guys, don’t be afraid to come and talk to me on and off anon! your interactions mean a lot, especially for content creators! we love hearing what you all think, what you like/dislike about our work, what you think of certain characters — absolutely anything! come and talk with us more whenever you can 💕

writing for kita feels calming somehow. normally the things that come up in my chest or my mind when i write gets nearly overwhelming if that makes sense? like i’ll have to pause and remind myself to breathe because it takes up so much of my attention that i kinda get lost, but with kita, it feels more flowey to me. it’s not demanding but more like a gentle coaxing kind of thing or like looking at the surface of a calm river. i was initially scared to write for him because i was worried i wouldn’t get him right, but i feel satisfied with how this turned out, i think. i hope you guys will find it as calming as i found it too! it might not be exactly what you wanted, but because i had already written the rejection of a person for atsumu’s soulmate oneshot, i wanted to play around with kita’s character and make it instead the rejection of a concept/idea? which would indirectly lead to him... you know, rejecting his soulmate initially, but— ahhhhhh it might make sense to just read it!! these rambles keep getting longer and longer :v i’m sorry for that!! please go ahead and read and tell me what you think in the end! 💕

NOTNING MORE THAN HUMAN ➽ KITA SHINSUKE x READER

genre: angst to fluff

au: soulmate

warnings: none

shinsuke kita is human.

and of course, that much is obvious. he isn’t a machine that’s incapable of feelings and emotions, whose heart is unfamiliar with melodies of an overwhelming joy, or the quiet hymns of deep rooted sadness. his skin still burns under righteous fury and anger, his tongue still weighs heavy under hesitance and silent worries. at the end of every long day, he’s still human.

it’s because he’s human that the words on his collarbone feel so heavy, as if they might cave into the bone and destroy him under their weight. it’s because he’s human that the sight of black markings in the mirror clouds his mind with a new kind of fear and worry. shinsuke kita is human, but he’s long since taught himself how to abandon anxiety and nervousness. he surrounds himself in familiar routines that calm the turbulent voices of doubt, he builds habits that ground him to the earth lest he should be swept away by the current. shinsuke has taught himself not to be afraid for the things that will happen everyday, but meeting his soulmate isn’t one of those things he can prepare for.

it’s a strange concept, he considers to himself. shinsuke doesn’t believe in words like fate or destiny, doesn’t care for the higher powers that should judge his actions. as far as he’s concerned, his own will is what dictates where his life goes — he’s in control, and that’s how it’s always been for him. let the gods watch, if they must, but he’s already decided that he’ll live by what is right, and he wouldn’t dare falter in the face of it. and yet — and it’s such a strange thing for him to do so — he pauses under the notion of a soulmate, of a destined partner who’s supposedly bound to him for as long as he should live. at first, he hadn’t given the idea much thought; it wouldn’t serve any purpose to worry about something that would happen whether or not he wants it, he decided. the truth of it is inevitable, just as the leaves must fall in autumn and the earth should be buried under clouds of white in winter. shinsuke is human — what more can he do but to accept it?

the black words that spread across his skin like droplets of ink became the bitter seeds of doubt that he hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it? the sentence by itself is so bland, like something maybe aran or anyone else might say to him in passing, and at first, it didn’t shake him too much, until he was caught one day under a sudden summer storm. seventeen year old kita somehow found himself stranded beneath a small shelter, where the wooden covering could protect him more than his umbrella until the rain passed. it was nearly unconscious, but he somehow found himself on edge, his breath faltered with the harsh pitter patter of rainfall that tumbled from green leaves and tore ripples from the surface of the lake. shinsuke kita found himself with a stomach full of butterflies and a thundering heartbeat that stole him away from solace and calm, cast the peace that he would so often carry with him away and left him stranded among chopping waves. every trembling breath he took stung on cold air and left him with a burning feeling on his lungs. it’s unfamiliar in its presence and shakes him to his core, but shinsuke kita is reminded of his own humanity when he realizes that what he feels, is anticipation and nervousness.

and it’s an odd thing. as he becomes aware of it, he finds himself twisting his fingers together during spring time; he worries his bottom lip between his teeth during unexpected showers. he feels like a child who stands in line to ride a roller coaster for the first time in his life — wide-eyed and drowning in the millions of feelings that race throughout his body. the feeling itself is nothing new, though it’s unfamiliar and intense in its ferocity and demand, seizes his heart and squeezes so tightly that whenever it rains, he’s left breathless.

it’s almost enough to drive him mad.

his very foundation seems to fall apart with the thunder that rolls across grey skies. for every drop of rain that hits the pavement, he finds himself a jittery mess as his heartbeat tears through his chest. the man who taught himself to abandon his fears reverts into the young boy who watched out for god, for the higher beings who watched his every move. and the thought that comes with every brilliant bolt of lightning burns him just as hotly, invasive and demanding when it flashes through his mind on a single, low whisper:

will you be happy?

shinsuke kita is human. he learns as he sees and lives as he’s learned, and what he saw growing up was that soulmates were bounded together till death do them part. a connection that’s set deep in stone, never to be erased by unforgiving weather and to persevere during the cruelest of storms. it’s an inevitable reality that the gods designed, so that mortals like himself should dance on stage and tell them a story. but shinsuke knows that not all these stories have a happy ending.

there are plays that end in tragedy and loss, those that only knew memories of pain and sang with death’s violin. man becomes the actor to a play that he has no choice in and dances on the puppet master’s strings, he surrenders control and gives himself up to the music, and he has no way of knowing the end of it until the curtains should fall. shinsuke has never been one to lay down his will, and yet, as winter melts once more into gray rain clouds and scattered showers, he’s reminded of his mortality, of the fate that’s been sealed away in the falling of rain. shinsuke kita is human, and so he must, like all men do, bend to fate’s will and never utter a word against her.

and for a long time, the sentiment caused him to completely reject the idea of a soulmate.

that feeling of helplessness that would wash over him with the rain turned into a bitterness that crushed his lungs between tightened fist. the acceptance of an inevitable waltz — whether it be to eternal happiness or to a cruel melody — turned into rebellious loathing that spat in the face of destiny. it’s entirely childish in its tale, like a toddler throwing a tantrum because he doesn’t want to give up his precious toy. that toy is his control, the power he had to live his life by his truth, not by that of a higher being. he’s human, after all, and humans are selfish and resentful by nature.

he finds himself with a heavy chest today, as well, as he waits for the pouring rain to subside. the small shelter in the middle of the garden park is familiar, and carries with it the memories of his epiphany, the one that created thunder storms in his once tranquil heart, and for that, he hates this place. the sound of the rain hitting the roof is like nails scratching against the chalkboard; the sound of droplets hitting the lake like an annoying whining that he can’t get out of his head. shinsuke curses this little pocket away from the world with all the childish anger in the world — let it be damned that doing so wouldn’t change anything. for once, he let himself go on a petty grudge against the universe, and against that looming stage and its heavy curtains.

it’s nearly faint, but he picks up on the patter-patter of footfalls that quickly approach him, and he turns bronze coloured eyes to find your rain-drenched figure running for shelter under the little gazebo. you’re out of breath by the time you make it underneath, letting out an exhausted and frustrated sigh as you press your hands to your knees, and shinsuke finds himself sympathizing with the way you bitterly push your hair from your face. you’re an ordinary office worker, from what he can see; you’ve hidden what looks to be a messenger back beneath your coat, leaving you to tremble in a thin button-up. this day’s downpour had been sudden, unexpected as spring would soon surrender to the approaching summer, and he imagines that he would have been in a similar position as yourself had he not packed his umbrella beforehand.

a silence settles over the both of you that’s only broken by the heavy rain, but the presence of it is so soothing that shinsuke finds himself breathing on a lighter air. suddenly the smell of petrichor turns sweeter, the melody of raindrops melting into a distant lullaby, and for the first time, shinsuke feels his heart melt under an indescribable sense of warmth despite the weather. and when your eyes turn to find his, a helpless grin on your lips, he feels that warmth explode under summer fireworks and coarse throhgh his veins like liquid lightning.

“it’s raining a lot today, isn’t it?”

for the second time in his life, shinsuke has an epiphany under the shelter in the garden.

he feels every bit of resentment vanish on a sudden gust of wind, one that sends raindrops splashing against his skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice. not when grey clouds suddenly reveal to him pillars of sunlight that embrace your figure and makes you glow against a background of green leaves. the rain turns into something sweet and enticing, and it suddenly gives shinsuke this unexplainable urge to grab your hand and dance with you underneath the pouring showers, where he can hear your voice ring out on chimes of laughter and innocent bliss. in mere seconds, he manages to let go of the dark clouds that he’d unintentionally harboured on his chest, he let them burst with the weight of anger and childish fury so that they would hit the earth on giant droplets of rain.

shinsuke kita is human — he’s imperfect, mortal. he feels and he thinks and he speaks what’s on his mind. he can hate, and he can love: he can make that decision on whether or not to hold useless grudges and to curse a destiny he can’t change, or to welcome that inevitability with the willingness to learn and grow.

today, as he stands beneath a wooden shelter, hiding from the heavy rains, he decides to stretch his hand out and let the water hit his skin.

davi hits 200 followers — haikyuu!! au writing event! 💕

taglist: @aiiishiiiteru @bootylikepeachy @tsumue

send an ask to be added!

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita x reader #kita x reader scenario #kita x reader imagine #kita x y/n #kita x reader angst #kita x reader fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader imagine #haikyuu x reader angst #haikyuu x reader fluff #davi hits 200! ✨#haikyuu!! au event 💫

139 notes · View notes

pencilofawesomeness · 4 years ago

Text

Fics I Absolutely Adore and Would Recommend to Anyone

I’ve been meaning to do this for a long, long time, because I love reading fanworks and they deserve a lot of love and I love sharing things that I love.

Obviously this isn’t everything, and if it’s not on this list that doesn’t mean I don’t love it, it just means I forgot at this moment. I will be adding to the list and I remember things or come across it again. (Trying to sort through my bookmarks and subscriptions is like trying to catch a fish bare-handed.) I’m also gonna shy away from the one-shots, even though I adore fun one-shots, just for the sake of organization. The list would be super long otherwise, and those are best sorted by fandom. Here... Here are just some brilliant works I want to rant about.

Disclaimer: I say “recommend” because I would recommend these works, any time any place, but do keep in mind the story’s rating and tags and stuff. Not everything is kid-friendly.

There is absolutely no hierarchy to the list below. They are added as I add.

Fairy Dance of Death

by Catsy ( @fairydanceofdeath )

Fandom: Sword Art Online Word Count: 660,282 Status: ongoing

「AU reboot of the entire SAO storyline, beginning from the premise that Kayaba Akihiko was obsessed with magic and Norse Mythology rather than swords and pure melee. As a result, he created the Death Game of Alfheim Online rather than the floating castle of Aincrad—a world in which player-killing is not a crime, and the nine player races are in competition with each other to reach the top of the World Tree. Multi-POV epic following the stories of multiple canon characters throughout the game.」

If Catsy wrote the SAO light novels and anime, SAO would be among the legendary series. Fairy Dance of Death has this amazingly simple premise of making Alfheim Online, the video game from the original series’ less-than-stellar second part, the game that the main cast becomes trapped in. However, it’s so much more. They took the characters and made them characters, and everyone gets ample spotlight—even background characters that normally wouldn’t receive a second thought. It’s masterful work, and to boot, there is a lovely frame of in-game mystery and player conflict. The organization is phenomenal and I aspire to world-build the way they did. Not to mention that stakes are so much higher and this series has ripped my heart to shreds more than once.

It has also brought me great joy, and even when I was in the dumps and didn’t want to read anything, a FDOD update made me pick up my phone and read when I otherwise wouldn’t have. It has a really special place in my heart. It updates once in a blue moon, but that’s okay.

Even if you have never seen a single piece of Sword Art Online, Fairy Dance of Death is still a great read. In fact, it’s the Better Version of SAO, if we’re all being honest, so I would especially recommend it if you hadn’t seen the original. Or if you have. The characters are given so much love and detail, to the point where Fairy Dance of Death’s characterizations are More Canon to me than Kawahara Reki’s work. It is just a beautiful piece of fiction, and it makes you question the depravity of man on levels that SAO shied away from.

Poisoned Dreams

by StrangeDiamond

Fandom: Genshin Impact Word Count: 82,852 Status: Complete, with a complete sequel and more to come

「 Every night now, Diluc dreams of death. Usually Kaeya's. In between these nightmares his life is falling apart. It doesn't take Kaeya long to realize that this is something much more insidious than simple bad dreams. His brother's life and sanity are on the line and there is nothing Kaeya won't do to save him. Bonus chapter added.」

In a growing fandom from a new game, StrangeDiamond swooped in and characterized these bad boys so well I think it’s canon. It really breathes life into the video game lore, and it’s an A+ depiction of awkward sibling re-bonding post-Terrible-Happenings. Poisoned Dreams can be read alone with a basic understanding of Genshin storybuilding, but StrangeDiamond has an entire group of fics and oneshots set in the same headcanon, and they integrate them really well and subtly together. Not to mention that the narrative style is really clever with making you question what is real and what is dream (a big point in this story) and the inner voices of the point-of-view characters are very compelling.

One Word to Change the World

by AgentMalkere

Fandom: Fairy Tail Collective Word Count: 43,988 (30 parts) Status: probably never coming back

「 In just one universe, Ultear called out to her mother instead of turning away and the fate of Fairy Tail and the world was irrevocably altered. These are glimpses of a world where a single word made all the difference.

In other words, welcome to the Butterfly Effect - Fairy Tail style. 」

It’s a really cute canon-divergent, and while the series makes no attempt to re-write Fairy Tail, it addresses the major events and just snippets in between. It does a good job at giving the vast cast ample spotlight, but it’s also an easy read. It’s special to me because it was the series that made me really pay attention to Bickslow in particular, and I respect that.

Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis

by aradian_nights

Fandom: Attack on Titan Word Count: 399,226 Status: Complete

「 Five years ago, an accident freed Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, and Armin Arlelt from an experiment that forced the most extraordinary powers onto them. After five years of separation, of being raised apart to be heroes by a set of three very different adults, they meet again. As they uncover the truth behind their captivity they realize being free and being heroes are sadly nothing but an illusion. 」

This wrecked me.

I still remember when I read it. It was the beginning of 2018, and I had the flu and a lot of time on my hands, so I binge-read this. It was simultaneously the best and the worst thing I have ever done, because I resonated with it so deeply there were times I was just staring up at the ceiling wondering what was real. I empathized with the characters to a level I rarely achieve, and I empathize easily. I laughed. I cried. It was amazing.

I refer to this story in conversation to this day. It handled themes published authors have only dreamed of achieving. Heck, if Dani (the author) took out the names of the AoT cast and replaced it with new ones, it could be its own stand alone novel. It is worldbuilding from the ground up, and any fandom knowledge you take in with you is used against you like a knife leveraged against your throat. Yet, no one is out of character. It’s phenomenal. I would say more, but this is something I daren’t spoil for anybody, because you must be as wrecked as I was. Vigilantis Pretium Libertatis is a level of writing I achieve to gain as a writer myself. It is a masterpiece in every sense of the word.

Life in Glass Houses

by blueskyscribe ( @blueskyscribe )

Fandom: Transformers (Transformers Prime, Transformers: Shattered Glass) Word Count: 119,900 Status: Ongoing (maybe, I hope)

「 No one would have thought Bumblebee and Knock Out were capable of getting along, but when they're stuck in a strange new world and their only hope of survival is cooperation . . . Yeah, they're probably doomed. 」

I could be biased because Knock Out and Bumblebee are two of my favorite characters, but it really is brilliant. Two enemies, stuck together—but not in an overly cliché way. It’s the right amount of cliché, with heaps moral conflict and inner conflict and sometimes just beating each other with a broom when no one is looking. It’s also a fascinating look into what makes a character the way they are in relation to the morals they possess, and how stalwart those morals can be. I can’t help but think of this story whenever I see or write a “role reverse” or mirror-verse AU. It does an excellent job at making all of the characters engaging and their own character, despite being in a mirror-verse.

Yesterday Upon the Stair

by PitViperOfDoom ( @pitviperofdoom )

Fandom: My Hero Academia Word Count: 424,070 Status: Complete

「 Midoriya Izuku has always been written off as weird. As if it's not bad enough to be the quirkless weakling, he has to be the weird quirkless weakling on top of it.

But truthfully, the "weird" part is the only part that's accurate. He's determined not to be a weakling, and in spite of what it says on paper, he's not actually quirkless. Even before meeting All-Might and taking on the power of One For All, Izuku isn't quirkless.

Not that anyone would believe it if he told them. 」

As a person who normally doesn’t read these kind of minor canon divergences, especially at the time of reading, I frickin’ love this fic. In fact, I think YUTS gave me a deep appreciation for canon divergence fics. It’s MHA in all of its glory but it’s so much more, and even the parts that rehash canon give new light to the characters and their points of view.

I had read Viper’s work before and saw Yesterday Upon the Stair filling my inbox, and then I finally watched My Hero Academia. It was one of the first MHA fics I read and it still has a very special place in my heart. I recommend this series to people who don’t even watch MHA; in fact, there are some who might prefer the darker tones and themes of heroism vs apathy to the main series. Not to mention the writing style is phenomenal, and I aspire to be that good. It made me laugh. It made me cry. Yes, tears streaming down my face crying. It is the best ghost story I have ever read.

the Vantage Point Universe

by Aggie2011 ( @aggie2011whoop )

Fandom: The Avengers (MCU) Collective Word Count: 1,032,651 (35 parts) Status: Ongoing (just slowed down)

「 Six months after the Loki incident, Clint isn't adjusting well. When an enemy from his days in the Army comes back to haunt him, he'll be forced to face a part of his past - and to move past Loki, if he has a hope of finding his place with the Avengers. (First of a universe created to center around Clint Barton) 」

// description taken from first installment

Have you enjoyed the MCU, especially the first-era Avengers phase, but like me, were disappointed in the fact that Hawkeye was barely there? The VP universe is for you.

I honestly have a hard time remembering what was canon and what was VP. And if it’s not canon, it should be. The VP universe gave so much life to Clint and to Natasha and to all of SHIELD and even the rest of the Avengers. It’s just...so good. It’s completely immersive. It focuses a lot on Hawkeye and Black Widow from before the Avengers team-up, as well as after, and it all flows together so beautifully. Not to mention that I can be reading a mission that happened pre-series, so I know that they are going to live with all of their limbs, and I still sit there on the edge of my seat the whole time.

The OCs, minor as they are, that are created for this are also wonderfully done. I can’t believe Dan and Phil don’t exist in canon. Every character, canon or no, is engaging and dynamic, it is a pleasure to follow each point of view. The emotional turmoil is also handled very well, and the VP universe carries the MCU trend of humanizing its heroes and takes it so much further.

Ghosts of the Future

by Evan Stanley ( @evanstanleyportfolio )

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog Word Count: comic (18 issues) Status: ongoing

「 About 200 years in the future, Silver the Hedgehog is an average kid living in San Francisco... except for his strange and terrible dreams of a dying Blue Hedgehog, a Black Hedgehog, and mysterious gems called "Chaos Emeralds". What will he do, when these "figments of his imagination" appear before him in his real life? 」

// description taken from first installment

Okay so this is the only one that isn’t an Ao3 story, but rather a comic on DeviantArt. However, it is still one of my favorite stories. Even though it takes the commonalities of Sonic canon and turns them on its head, GotF really treats the characters well. There are enough familiar world elements to create intrigue, but it is set in a completely different take of the future, so there is ample opportunity for world building and being able to engage with a completely new thing. I wish SEGA put as much love in the series (namely the games, because the comics are *chef’s kiss*) and all of its possibilities as creators like Evan Stanley do.

The friendship and family relationships in GotF are so diverse and all so fantastic to witness. It’s a keynote example of the new hero and the old veterans, and both parties are active and trying their best.

Do not be alarmed by the starting art style. Sure, it’s rough around the edges at first, but then it gets better, and then it gets gorgeous, and then you’re left there so stunned that it looks like just life canon art. And then you could be like me, blinking slowly as my small brain finally connected that this Evan Stanley is in fact the Evan Stanley. GotF is an amazing fanwork, but she also draws and writes for the Official Canon comics (the IDW ones now) and that work is also phenomenal and should be supported.

Whirlwind

by Lynse ( @ladylynse )

Fandom: Danny Phantom, American Dragon: Jake Long, Miraculous Ladybug, Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja Word Count: 75,556 Status: Complete

「 Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny really should've expected something like this when he got that phone call from Jake. (Secret Quartet fic) 」

I have to start by saying that I adore all of Lynse’s fics, and I chose this one simply because it is one of my favorites. But it’s all fantastic, one hundred percent. I also love Mirrored, the sort-of prequel to this fic, but Whirlwind just has the chaotic pure bean energy that each of the shows bring and it foils against each other so perfectly. This is the epitome of the Secret Quartet crossover, truly.

All fandoms and all characters get ample love, and the way the reader gets to see just how badly the characters’ assumptions are going is positively wonderful. It’s so easy to fall into the “I know what’s happening and so do the characters” trap, but Lynse leaps over it gracefully and lands in greatness. The fic had me smiling like a maniac one minute, and feeling sorry for my babies the next. Wonderful. Simply fantastic!

30 notes · View notes

drowningbydegrees · 4 years ago

Text

Favorite Works of 2020

I was tagged by @girl-in-red-crossing (whose fics you should totally read if you haven’t! <3). Thank you!

Rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Ooh, this was kind of hard! I didn’t realize I made so many things this year.

Though I Try Not To So, new fandoms are always a little scary for me. I don’t know the landscape, I lack confidence in my characterization, and often the first really personally compelling idea I have has been done a bajillion times. And that was definitely how I felt posting this one. I was already thrilled that I felt like writing again after hardly doing anything for over a year though, and if nobody read the darned thing, I’d still be happy for that. But I have never felt so overwhelmingly welcome in a fandom before as I did working on this story. It makes me want to collectively hug everyone. Even if it Hurts (Even if it Makes Me Bleed) I have kind of a love/hate relationship with the soulmate trope. I love a lot of soulmate fics. They’re often very sweet and well written. There are a couple I’ve found myself going back to read again because they’re wonderful. But as a person who harps a lot on personal agency, I have a little bit of a hard time with soulmates as a concept. This becomes extra true for me where Geralt is concerned because so much of his life and the people in it already got decided for him. I’ve always wanted to write a soulmate fic, but it didn’t feel like it would be true to the kind of stories I want to tell if I didn’t find some way to turn the trope on its ear. I had so much fun trying to work this out, and I’m actually really happy with the end result. Even in the Dark I Know You I think pretty much all my friends from previous fandoms who put up with my current nonsense could tell you that most of the time when I’m flailing about a story idea, it’s in the context of “But what if it was worse???” Angst is my jam, but even more so when it comes with the catharsis of a hopeful ending. I think if there were one thing I wrote this year that really illustrates my reading and writing tendencies it’s this one. This actually started out with what was supposed to be a random oneshot for Geralt Whump Week, but I had so much fun playing with it that I didn’t stop until I’d spun it out into a proper narrative. For The Space of a Heartbeat I started this fic back in June, wrote a bit, decided I was getting everything wrong, and closed the document for almost five months. And when I actually posted it, it was largely because I was supposed to be working on Whumptober prompts, and the minute I have a thing I’m supposed to be doing, my brain tends to insist that it’s really very urgent that I finish this other thing instead. That’s a terrible run-on sentence, but I’m rolling with it. I don’t think it’s even my own work that makes it a favorite of mine. It’s that someone left this one comment about they’d been having a terrible day and this made them smile anyway. There is no better feeling than knowing somewhere out there, someone’s life is at least the tiniest bit better because of what you put out into the world. Nothing But The Background Noise This one is very close to my heart. I might claim to love angst (and I do), but sometimes it’s nice to write something that’s just unapologetically soft. I started it ages ago, got halfway through and then ended up stuck because I had this sentiment I was trying to illustrate, but nothing I wrote really seemed to articulate it while still feeling true to my translation of the characters. I was so, so, so happy when it finally hit me that I was too married to a particular ending and just needed to let go of it. As for tagging! @mikkeneko @goodheavensgwen @inennui @valdomarx @teamfreehoodies and really, anyone who wants to. I really love reading these. <3

#things I'm tagged in

55 notes · View notes

prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years ago

Text

Parental Advisory [18+]

K!nktober 2020 Kink Bingo!: Ass Worship

Summary: You bring Frederick Chilton to meet your parents over a weekend. Chilton is rude them. You do him in the ass at your parents’ house.

This oneshot stands on its own, but it’s also a side-story from the A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss universe, which has a gender-neutral reader. So this is either pegging or penis depending on how you’re interpreting the reader! (And since even I am not sure, it’s going for the Ass Worship square in @thatesqcrush’s Kink Bingo instead of pegging or anal)

*There is no weird parent voyeurism or whatever, the walls are thick in this house OK? They’re just there for the awkward social interaction of bringing home a pompous douchebag XD

5,059 words

“That went quite well,” said Dr. Chilton, voice smooth and velvety with confidence as you settled into the guest bedroom upstairs.

You grimaced, and quietly shut the door behind you. When you didn’t answer, he looked over to see a teeth-gritting expression plastered on your face. He raised an eyebrow. You tried to coax your face into a genuine smile, but only succeeded in stretching the corners of your mouth more tightly until you looked like some kind of face-eating killer-clown monster.

“Did it not go well?”

“Ummmm...” you stretched a long vowel and scratched the side of your neck to fill the pause as you made up your mind on exactly how to explain this to him.

His velvety confidence broke and he closed the distance between you in a quick stride, taking your shoulders and searching your eyes with worry etched into his brow.

“Tell me.”

“Frederick, you can’t just tell people it’s obvious they come from dirt because of the length of stitches in their hem!”

“That is not what I said—I observed the indications of working-class design popularized by the—”

“Frederick!”

“I was showing interest in their cultural heritage.”

“And you thought that was the way to do it?!”

He quieted. “They were not fond of me, then?”

“As first impressions go, it was pretty bad.”

“Shit.” He sank down onto the edge of the bed—a floral lavender comforter matching the rest of the room, tucked crisply around the sides as if it had never been slept in before, which it hadn’t. Frederick rested his elbows on his knees and let his forehead sink into his hands.

He was worried. He had only been dating you for a year, but you were different than his usual flings. For one thing, you had stayed with him for an entire year. You were affectionate and honest. You didn’t care about money. If he made a snipe about you being a hot mess, you would mock him right back for caring too much about appearances. It was, he eventually discerned, because you hadn’t come from a wealthy family, and never envied those who did. You were actually happy with who you were and scorned the idea of status symbols—like his car, his watches, his house, his Montblanc pens—whose only purpose was to display wealth. It annoyed him at first, but then he wondered, if you were not after him because he was a wealthy doctor, what did you see in him?

He was still figuring that out. If possible, he would like to spend a lifetime figuring it out—he even planned to ask you to move in with him—but he may have just ruined that.

***

Dr. Chilton’s poor impression began hours before he even met your parents. Since you were just going home to family, you wore a plain t-shirt and jeans. Despite your specific instruction to dress casually, he wore a suit. And so, the first thing your parents saw when they opened the front door was a pair so mismatched, it looked like an illicit student-professor affair.

He then handed them a very expensive bottle of wine as a gift—but, as was Frederick’s habit, it was too opulently out of your parents’ price range to be interpreted as anything other than boasting. Your father grumbled, “Thanks,” in a way that Frederick seemed blithely unaware meant “fuck you.”

After that, Chilton began observing things like bargain-bin Sherlock Holmes, and generally being Chilton. He mentioned that their entire house could fit inside his garage. After a few minutes of stilted conversation he said, in not a flattering way, that he could “see where you got it from now.”

You hadn’t expected the first meeting between your elitist doctor boyfriend and your down-home parents to go well, but you had hoped he might lean more toward the charming side of his charming asshole spectrum, just for today. He had a way of getting under everyone’s skin at first, including yours. But he was sweet, underneath his WASPy upbringing, and you were sure they would see that.

When Frederick excused himself to the bathroom, your father immediately let out the complaints he had been barely containing for the last hour. “So that’s not going to last much longer, is it?” he snorted, leaning forward in his La-Z-Boy recliner. “How do you stand it? Did you hear him correct me about searing steak? As if that dandy would know the first thing about grilling.”

“He’s right, you know,” you said. “Searing doesn’t lock in juices, it just adds flavor. I Googled it.”

“Now he’s corrupting my own child!” your dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “You gonna be a know-it-all now, too?”

“As if I wasn’t already,” you challenged, hand on your hip. Your dad wasn’t wrong, though, so you laughed it off and shook your head. “I know, I know. That’s just how he is. Once we got into a disagreement about how ‘pajamas’ is pronounced, and he wouldn’t let it go until... Well, I just started using the word sleepwear.”

“And he wears double-breasted suits,” your mother chimed in behind her hand.

“Oh? What about it?”

“They’re so sleazy!” she cried.

“They are?” If this was some sort of well-known fashion knowledge, your parents never passed it down to you. You always thought Frederick looked good in whatever he wore.

“I don’t know what you see in that pompous little twerp,” your dad sighed heavily, then grinned. “I bet I could pick him up with one hand and toss him out the window.”

“Dad!”

“Bet he screams like a girl,” your father roared with laughter, slapping his knee.

“Oh, he does,” you said with a cold, tight smile. “And if you lay a hand on him, you’ll be singing like a girl, you get me?”

The laughter stopped, and you found yourself in the most intense familial staredown since Thanksgiving 2008. Your father’s eyes silently growled, “You would threaten your own father?!” and yours narrowed and hissed, “I will if you threaten my boyfriend!”

Your mother broke the silence with a patient, pleading voice. “I get it. He’s rich, and he’s not bad looking. But you know you don’t have to marry for money. Your father and I have enough, and I thought you were doing well for yourself working with the FBI.”

“You really think I’d be with someone for money?” you said, mouth agape with bewilderment. Sometimes you wondered if these people knew you at all. “He’ll grow on you, trust me. Just… try to ignore the condescending shit that comes out of his mouth. It becomes endearing eventually.” Footsteps creaked on the second floor, announcing Frederick’s imminent return. You put on your sternest kindergarten-teacher face and pointed across the living room at your parents. “Both of you, behave!”

***

You stood beside him and tenderly ran your fingers through his thick brown hair—a gesture he adored, reserved for evenings at home and mornings before grooming so as not to ruin his perfect coif. He closed his eyes and leaned into the comforting sensation, grateful that you were, at least for the moment, not upset with him.

“I was trying to be friendly,” Frederick explained, his voice sounding as much like a whining child justifying why he had tracked dirt into the house as it did like a man.

Your gentle fingers clenched tightly in his hair and tugged down on the back of his head with enough force to make him look up at you, eyes opening wide with surprise. You narrowed yours.

“You weren’t trying to get them to like you, you were trying to prove that you were superior to them. It’s what you always do,” you growled.

He stared back at you for a few beats, trying to decide whether to be offended, chastised, or turned on. With your fingers curled roughly in his hair, controlling his head with a firm grip, he knew you were not truly angry. You were slipping into character, playing a game at ‘punishing’ him, which he could stop in a word if he wanted to. But the evening would be more fun if he gave you more to punish him over.

“I did no such thing,” he huffed. “If your parents confuse intelligence and culture with condescension, that is hardly my fault!”

Your lips crashed down on his with a snarl, shutting him up as your tongue invaded his mouth to stop his from wagging. The kiss was bruising at first, an act of dominance, but his loud, muffled moans into your mouth and his soft, yielding lips coaxed you to slow down and enjoy it. Your grip in his hair grew softer again, turned into gentle caresses, and your kiss grew deeper and more passionate. Fuck if you didn’t love it when he was bratty. When you finally broke away, his face was flushed and there were stars in your eyes. You slowly sucked the mingled saliva off your lower lip while you appraised him.

“You are a very rude boy, Frederick,” you said, a long, predatory smile slowly slanting over your lips. “Aren’t you?”

He swallowed, obediently staying seated but leaning forward with anticipation. “Yes.”

You threw a leg across his lap, straddling him, and pushed the center of his chest until he was lying flat on the bed. You followed him halfway down, caging him in with your arms and staring down at him with mock anger. His cock was already twitching under your thigh, and a wave of arousal washed over you, making it hard to keep up your performance. But you wanted to see him squirm.

“Rude boys need to learn their place.” You lowered your mouth to his, but stopped an inch before kissing him. He tried to tip his head to meet your lips, but you sat up, grinning with the feeling of power over him as he whimpered with disappointment. “Nope. You were a bad boy today, Frederick. You haven’t earned another kiss yet.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?” he asked, his voice already heavy with lust.

You thought about it, stroking your chin. “You always act like you’re so much better than everyone,” you observed, reaching between your legs to idly stroke his growing bulge through his pants. His hips jerked, pushing his cock into your palm. “What would your high-society friends think if they saw you with your ass in the air, begging for a lowly commoner to fuck you?”

His adam’s apple bobbed sharply. He liked the idea. He liked it a lot.

“I want you to strip for me,” you ordered in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “Then I want you on all fours.”

Normally he wouldn’t have hesitated, so when you looked down and saw tension, not arousal, in his eyes, you were concerned.

“Will your parents hear us?” he asked, a blush creeping up the sides of his neck. “I was hoping to walk away with at least a neutral review from your family, and I assume being overheard in the throes of passion will not result in favorable points.”

You smirked devilishly. “Then you’d better be quiet.”

***

After a few minutes for each of you to shower and prepare, you had Frederick just as you’d asked. Naked and on his knees. “That’s my good little slut,” you praised, running your hand over his ass and giving it a light smack—not enough to make much noise, but the light contact was enough to make Frederick whimper softly with need. “Such a beautiful ass.”

“Touch me more,” he breathed.

“Good boy, telling me what you want, but you have to be more specific. Where do you want me to touch you?”

“Anywhere,” he whispered with such honesty it was heartbreaking. He really didn’t care, so long as you were touching him. It made you want to forget everything else, hold him as tight as you could, and never let him go… but this was punishment.

“I see,” you tutted. “First you’re rude and arrogant, and now you can’t make up your mind.” You let your hand trail off, and he whimpered louder the moment you broke contact. You stalked a circle around the bed, taking your time to just enjoy the sight. It was only a double size bed, so unlike the monstrosity Frederick owned, you could easily prowl around the entire thing as you appraised his form like he was displayed on a pedestal. “You really are handsome,” you purred, eyes gliding over his broad shoulders and muscular arms, bulging with thick veins bulging all the way down to the backs of his hands. He wasn’t especially tall and seemed so bookish in his suits, but those biceps could crack your head like a walnut, and you’d let him. But he glanced up and met your eyes with a pathetic, questioning look that told you he didn’t really believe you. You could tell him over and over again how perfect he was, but for someone with such a big ego, he was remarkably insecure. Then again, maybe the two went hand in hand.

You finished your circuit and finally stepped up to the edge of the bed behind him, welcomed by the sight of his shapely ass with his tight hole eagerly waiting for you, his weighty balls hanging below, cock already standing in rigid defiance of gravity.

“Now that’s a pretty picture,” you let out a throaty growl of appreciation, and couldn’t resist running your hands down the rounded curve of his ass cheeks. “I can’t wait to fuck this perfect ass,” you moaned.

He breathed deeply, shuddering as you climbed onto the bed behind him, the front of your thighs pressed against the back of his. “Thank you. Thank you,” he whispered as your hands roamed over his back and sides. You dipped one down his soft stomach, smoothing over the raised scar and fine hairs that grew coarser beneath his belly button until you found his cock. It was already rock hard. You took its velvety skin in your hand and gave a few lazy strokes just to hear him choking on his breath, to feel his body tense and go slack at the same time. You brought your fingers to your mouth and tasted his salty precum, closing your eyes as it sent blood surging between your thighs. You licked each finger with a loud wet noise, and hummed as you savored it to be sure he knew what you were doing. When his hips shifted, trying to grind against you, and he whimpered a lusty, “Please,” you knew it had worked.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” you asked, voice thick with arousal.

“Y-yes,” he stammered, shifting back to grind his hips against yours.

“Say it then, Doctor Chilton. I want you to tell me what you want me to do. Tell me what will make you feel good. I want to hear you beg for it, remember?”

“Please?” he whined more desperately. You didn’t give an inch.

“Please what?”

He groaned miserably, and didn’t answer. As strong as his need was, he hated being vulnerable enough to ask for what he wanted out loud, and it didn’t help that you had goaded him earlier about begging. Now he was going to deliberately be stubborn. But you were patient. Before the night was over, he would beg.

“You know,” you pondered aloud, spreading and kneading his thick cheeks, “if you have one thing to feel superior about, it’s this ass.” You gave it another light smack, and he jumped. “It’s so big, and I love—” you cut yourself off, ducking down and kissing the inside of his thigh. You kissed all the way down to his knee, and all the way up until you were moving his balls aside, gently toying with them in one hand so you could press your lips to the juncture of his leg and hip. His breathing was coming out harder, more erratic, but he was still managing to control his voice until you switched legs and gave a sharp nip to his thigh that made him yelp and clap a hand to his mouth. You teased and marked his thighs until they were shaking, then dragged your teeth up his buttocks and gave him a firm nip. Now you really got into it, moaning as you sucked on his flesh, leaving stinging red marks all over his pale ass cheeks. He groaned with pleasure, but stubbornly kept his hand over his mouth, denying you what you wanted—hearing him beg for more. It was a battle of wills he could only win for so long.

“Too bad,” you pouted, dragging your fingers slowly up the sensitive flesh between his balls and his ass. You licked a broad swathe along the same path, and his muffled whimpering and the writhing of his hips was like music, spurring you on. “I really want to finger that perfect ass of yours, but if you can’t tell me that’s what you want...” The tips of your fingers found his tight entrance and circled it slowly.

A long whine came from deep in the back of Frederick’s throat, and finally he panted out, “I… would like you to—please.”

“To what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

He snarled with frustration, squeezing his eyes closed as he answered, “F-fingers!”

“That’s not a very polite way of asking, but it will do for now.” You poured lube over his ass and worked it in until everything was nicely slippery and circled his entrance again, teasing circles that slowly spiraled toward the center, finally pressing a fingertip inside him.

“More… please…” he whimpered. You complied, building up slowly, sinking one finger into him, then once he was babbling frustrated demands for more, stretching him open with two. Pumping your fingers, you curled them down toward his stomach to stroke that tender bundle of nerves that made him cry out with pleasure, toes curling, when you found it.

“Quiet now,” you warned, pressing a chaste kiss to one of the hickeys you’d left, “You don’t want anyone to hear.” The strangled sounds he made into the mattress as he struggled to keep quiet were almost enough to send you right over the edge. Even though you were focusing entirely on his pleasure, it was a turn-on for you, too. “You feel so good, taking me like this,” you cooed, your voice only cracking a little. “So tight.” Wet noises filled the room, and the huffing of his breath came harder. You reached between his legs and barely touched his burning hot cock when his will broke.

“Please—please fuck me,” he panted, ragged and hoarse like he would die if you didn’t. “I want you to fuck me. Oh, god, oh, god. Please!”

“What a good boy, begging so pretty for me.” You slowly removed your slick fingers from his core, and he looked back at you, eyes pleading for you to fill him again. You raised your eyebrows at him expectantly, almost stern, on the cusp of complete victory and he knew it, but was too lost to care anymore. The urgent flames of his arousal burned every muscle in his body, and he would say everything he knew you wanted to hear if it meant he could come.

“Please, please fuck my ass. I am sorry for being rude. I was bad. I know I am rotten and do not deserve you, but please, I am begging you to fuck me.”

An aching pang twisted your heart and took you out of the moment and any desire to torment him. You bent low, pressing your body over the length of Frederick’s back, grasped him by the chin, and twisted his face to lock eyes with you. “You deserve me, Frederick,” you said, voice steady and serious. “You are not bad. You are wonderful, and I love you. I wasn’t trying to… I wanted you to feel humble, not undeserving. You deserve to be loved. Do you understand?”

He nodded, and leaned all his weight onto one arm so he could draw your head down closer and kiss you, fervent and warm. It was a little quick and desperate, all wet tongues and sliding lips, but with a loving softness to it that melted you. “Please,” he urged, “if you make me repeat positive affirmations now before you will fuck me, I swear—” He glowered petulantly, though it was a thin performance. It didn’t escape your notice that he cut his sentence short, as there was no actual threat to fill in the blank of what he swore. He would patiently endure any torture you threw at him, and you both knew it.

You chuckled at his adorable defiance, kissed him lightly on the nose, then ruthlessly pushed his shoulders down into the mattress. He fell with a satisfied moan of anticipation. “Look at this,” you pronounced, as if you’d just walked in on the scandalous scene. “The great Doctor Chilton with his ass in the air, begging to be taken by some nobody. How shocking, simply shocking,” you teased, elongating each syllable the way Frederick did when he was being particularly snobby.

“Please, please fuck me,” he pleaded, voice pitifully small and helpless, half-smothered against the mattress, playing his part as if his depravity were on display to his peers.

Your voice dropped a quarter octave and took on a hungry edge. “I could never turn down such a desperate request from such an esteemed gentleman.”

Frederick had been waiting a long time, and moaned loudly as you finally pushed inside of him, not bothering or not aware enough to control his volume. The pace you set was deep and steady, not punishingly hard, but not languid and easy, either. Sliding in and out of his tightness, you gripped his hips, and angled yours to hit the sweet spot inside him. You knew the moment you’d found it—suddenly, he could barely contain his whimpering and moaning, babbling nonsense as he began to fall apart.

“You were trying to prove you were better than everyone today, weren’t you?” you leaned over him and hissed in his ear as you thrust.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice strained and panting, so close to his release. He was drooling onto the blanket.

“What have I told you about being humble?”

“To… try it?” he struggled to answer, voice jostling as you thrust into him harder, his hips rocking to push against your thrusts, deepening the penetration.

“That’s right. Because you’re not better than anyone else, are you?”

“…No,” the answer tore from his throat in a shameful gasp.

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, and he cried out with pain and pleasure. “You’re a dirty slut who likes to be dominated, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“And you’re perfect just as you are and don’t need to prove anything to anyone, aren’t you?”

“Ye—” he almost answered, but then his hips stuttered in their movement and stopped.

“I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His hips began to move again as his confusion cleared, meeting yours as they crashed against his muscular ass.

“I think you’re perfect,” you smiled, feeling his muscles tense as his climax neared. “And you would never contradict me, would you?”

“Never.”

“Good.” You sat higher again to get a better angle on his prostate and took his dripping cock in your palm, stroking in time with your thrusts, overwhelming him with sensation. His whole body convulsed beneath you. He shoved a pillow into his mouth just in time to keep the entire house from hearing his lung-shattering wail, his back arching as he painted his seed over the pristine lavender blankets, coming so hard he nearly came on his own face. You slumped down over him, and he reached for your hand, his fingers laced with yours.

His back rose and fell with each panting breath as he slowly came down from the high, both of you exhausted and sweating and pleasantly sleepy. You rolled over into a more comfortable position to spoon him. The hairs on the back of his neck were soft and ticklish against your nose as you nuzzled him, pressing gentle kisses all along his neck and under his jaw, feeling his pulse surging hot beneath your lips. He groaned softly in the aftermath, melting in your arms. Longing to have more of you to hold onto, he flipped over so he was facing you, wrapping his powerful arms around you snugly, burying his face under your chin. His hair was a mess, partly stuck to his forehead with sweat with one giant cowlick on the side he had pressed against the mattress, and you couldn’t resist running your fingers through it to muss it up more. More happy noises came forth, and a few wet, sucking kisses clung to your throat.

“I love you,” he murmured, and the sound vibrated up your neck.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” you whispered back, wrapping a leg around him to pull him even closer, his spent erection pressing into you. You could feel the stickiness of his release smearing over your leg, but at this point, you were both going to need a shower anyway. “I love you.”

For several minutes you just lay there recovering, warm in each other’s embrace, softly whispering praises. Finally, he pulled back, an ocean of green eyes gazing back into yours with a question in them. He pondered it for a long while, and finally, instead of asking, declared, “Tomorrow, I shall correct my mistakes. I run an entire hospital of psychopaths; I can manage to make your parents like me.”

“Why are you so worried about what they think?”

“I do not care what they think. I worry about what they think and tell you. They… are important to you. If they disapprove, it may sway your feelings. Not right away, perhaps, but that familial bond will gnaw at you day by day, like a rat chewing through bone, until you share their negative opinion, and…” he shrugged, his eyes glassy, “…I will lose you.”

You caressed the side of his jaw and neck, thumb stroking his cheek, and peppered his face with kisses. Smoothing your palm down his shoulder, you pulled yourself close until your forehead knocked against his. “Nothing is going to change the way I feel about you, Frederick. Nothing. I love you. I don’t care what they think. It’s not like I’m just now discovering that you rub people the wrong way,” you chuckled. “That’s part of what makes me love you. You can be… officious. It takes time to get to know you. But I have never regretted a single minute of it. They’ll come around.”

His surrounding arms tightened around you possessively, quietly affirming that he understood.

Circling your hand idly over his back, still damp with sweat, you admitted something you hadn’t told him. “I was more nervous about what you would think of them,” you said, and he pulled back to pin you with a stare demanding an explanation. You squirmed under his gaze, cheeks heating up. “I didn’t want you realizing I’m complete born-and-bred trash.”

“I was already well aware of that, darling.”

A low growl stirred in your chest. “Still rude,” you snarled gleefully, rolling him onto his back, pinning his shoulders down, and biting his neck. He yelped and scrambled into a sitting position, taking you with him until you fell off his lap to the side.

“S-sorry!” you gasped, afraid you had bitten him too hard for him to balk so dramatically, when he was usually willing to play along with anything. A split second later, you realized it wasn’t pain on his face. His lips were curled as if he had stepped in something slimy. Or rather, rolled in it. Which he had.

“Eeuughh!” he shuddered.

“Since when are you so squeamish?” you asked with a sultry look to remind him of all the times he had licked himself off of your fingers.

“It was cold,” he shot back.

And kind of everywhere. He came a lot. And none of it had been intercepted by any orifices, so his full load was painted across the blanket like a Jackson Pollock.

You thanked your lucky stars that the guest bedroom had its own half bath stocked with washcloths, so you didn’t have to venture into the hall while sticky with sex. But after cleaning yourselves up and changing into sleepwear, you stared with dismay at the floral-patterned blanket you and Frederick had ruined.

“I do not accept responsibility for this,” Frederick said. “Having sex in your old bedroom was your idea—I cannot be held accountable for ruining your childhood memories.”

The speed at which Frederick shifted to weaseling out of blame overwhelmed your ability to keep a straight face—you smirked, snorted, and gave in completely to a belly-shaking laugh. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at you sideways.

“Frederick...” your shoulders bounced, “Does this look like a childhood bedroom? My parents moved after I graduated college.”

“Ah.” The tips of his ears turned red with embarrassment. You recalled how impersonal his own bedroom—and entire house—was, and your heart ached to think that he couldn’t even recognize that an ordinary childhood bedroom would be cluttered with forgotten toys and old posters. “That would explain the lack of baby pictures.”

“You can ask my parents to show you the photo albums,” you said offhandedly, and smiled at the way he perked up with genuine interest.

“I have been curious what species of gremlin you evolved from...” he smirked.

“My parents would love it if you let them show you the family albums. I will be mortified, but they’ll love you for it.”

“The key to their hearts, as it were?”

“You know, yeah. It might actually tip the scales. It might even make up for this,” you gestured at the blanket which the bodily fluid and lube stains were definitely never washing out of.

He sank down onto the edge of the bed and covered his face with his hands. “Fuck.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags:

@beccabarba / @caked-crusader / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @da-po / @madamsnape921

#Frederick Chilton x reader #Frederick Chilton #Raúl Esparza #Hannibal #my writing #thatesqcrush kink bingo

81 notes · View notes