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notyour-valentine · 2 years

Note

Hello! Congratulations on 1000! Here’s to many many more! Could I please be cheeky enough to request the following prompt for Tommy (maybe with a daughter reader)

“Champagne - it’s like a mistress: sparkling, flighty, vivacious, wayward - and not to be trusted”

A Good Man ~Tommy Shelby & daughter!Reader (Angst)

[Celebration] [Celebration Masterlist] [Masterlist]

Warning: Infidelity, underage drinking. (18/21+). I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other.

Words: 1262 words

The thump had torn his eyes from his paperwork.

One glance at his pocket watch revealed that it was closer to morning than midnight and for a split second, his body went into wild alert, but then he heard a second thump and a muttered curse.

"Bloody things!"

It was followed by more clatter.

Not a robber then, Tommy though with a soft smile.

Leaving the gun, he decided to leave his office for the corridor.

She was sitting on the floor of the entrance hall, one shoe close to the stairs, the other thrown in the general direction of the sitting room.

Tommy recognised the dress they had bought for her last birthday.

His wife had thought it a little much, but he convinced her that it was the current fashion and that it was fine- the age of high collars and judgement of their youth was long gone.

Besides, if she was wearing this, she wouldn't be wearing anything worse.

"Long night?", Tommy asked, leaning against his doorframe.

He knew he ought to be upset, angry even, but compared to all the mischief they had gotten up to, what was a bit of drinking?

After all, she came home unencumbered.

She glanced up, saw him and groaned before leaning back and laying herself down on the cold floor.

"Go away!", She snarled. "I don't want to see you."

"Me or two of me?", He asked as crouched down next to her.

Her eyeshadow was slightly smudged but not too bad. But it could have been worse.

"Good night?"

"Horrible night.", She sighed, but this time there was no sarcasm in her tone.

"What happened?", Tommy demanded to know, his heart beginning to thunder.

Anything from a broken lipstick to something far worse crossed his mind in a split second.

"Betrayal.", She mused.

"Betrayal, eh?" Tommy asked.

He had been sure there was no boy she had taken a liking too. Or maybe his wife had lied to him.

Alright, maybe he had a tendency to overreact, but he wanted a good man for her, someone who was nice, trustworthy and would treat her well.

It was only natural for him to want to be in the know.

"All men are liars.", She spat out.

Worse than I thought then.

"Not all.", He assured her. "Some. But not all. There are a few decent ones."

She snorted.

"Don't be like that, Sweetheart.", He tried. "There are. You'll find someone who loves you and treats you right."

She opened one eye, then the other and glared at him.

"Someone who brings me roses every day they are in bloom? Buys me presents? Kisses me good morning even though I'm still sleeping?"

Her list brought a smile to his lips.

The fact that she picked up on all these things filled his chest with pride.

"That and more."

She rolled her eyes as she managed to push herself into a sitting position.

With a sigh, she moved onto her knees, but when she attempted to rise further than that, she stumbled.

"Careful, Sweetheart!", He warned her as he steadied her with an arm around her back and the other on her arm as he helped her up.

"Too much whisky?", He asked.

As soon as she stood on her own two feet, she shrugged him off.

"Champagne.", She muttered as she made her way to the stairs.

Tommy followed. There was no way she'd manage them on her own.

"Champagne, eh? A new vice?"

She huffed before rolling her head from side to side. Then she twirled, making her dress flare out like she had done when she had been but a little girl.

"Champagne, champagne…it's like a mistress, sparkling, flighty vivacious, wayward-"

She stopped and met Tommy's eyes for the first time this night.

"And not to be trusted."

Tommy felt his lips part as his heart sank.

Gone was the drunken shine in her gaze, the dreamy softness, replaced by nothing but venom.

He knew he had to say something- do anything, but every possible word, every action had been wiped from his mind, freezing him somewhere between horror and terror, locking him in helpless vulnerability.

"Yep. She was upset you broke it off and so she told me. Said she felt used and discarded- just another one of your playthings."

Her words coming from his daughter's lips made something shatter inside him and for once Thomas Shelby felt the burning need to speak and yet couldn't think of a single thing to say.

And he felt a strange cold spread inside him, or maybe all around him

He only stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips.

The distant ticking of the watch was deafening. It mocked him with the fact that while he was frozen, time went on.

And yet, he couldn't move a single finger.

Her eyes- his eyes- trailed over him from head to toe, and they judged.

"She's four years older than me, did you know that?", She wanted to know.

Tommy had not.

He knew little more than her name, and that she was pretty to look at, that she was available.

"How could you do that?", She asked, her voice frighteningly calm, as she stared at him. "Not doing it with her, but coming home afterwards?"

She took a step forward, her skirts whispering as she tilted her head. "Going to sleep next to Mum? Kissing her goodbye every morning? Bringing her flowers? Telling her you love her even though - "

She broke off as if the truth choked her.

Tommy blinked against the burning in his eyes.

"I do love her.", He whispered. "I love your mother very much."

She scoffed in such a manner it would have been a kindness if she had slapped him, struck him, pierced his heart with an iron rod.

"Does she know?"

No, he wanted to say, but that wouldn't be the truth.

A part of him wanted to lie, to tell any lie he had to to convince his daughter that all this was false, meaningless and void.

But no falsehood would pass his lips. There was nothing left but the truth.

"I don't know."

She refused to let her face betray her, but Tommy could see how her hands began to shake.

"You don't know?"

Disbelief made her eyes shine again as she shook her head, but then that turned into a nod as she bit down on the inside of her lip.

“Because it’s not the first time, is that it?”

Tommy’s temple began to throb.

“Sweetheart-”, he whispered but she shook her head.

“No!”

It wasn’t a request, or a rebuttal even.

It was an order, given without anger or fury or pain, but spoken void of any emotion, any feeling except the unmovable expectation to be obeyed, like all the other orders levelled against him. Orders to fight, to maim, to kill or even to die, but none had ever cut him deeper.

She clenched her jaw the same way Ada did as she looked at him, looked down at him, taking a shuddering breath.

If before he graze had been judging, this was nothing short of damning.

Slowly she turned, her hand finding the bannister as she began to make her way up the stairs, passing under the many portraits that watched her on their way, leaving Tommy below in the icy darkness.

Then, at the corner, she stopped and turned once more.

“Oh and one more thing-”, she said, towering over him now.

“Stop saying you love Mum when you clearly don’t.”

End

Thank you so much for that request - I hope you enjoyed it even if it was so sad to write.

Taglist

Overall

@lilyrachelcassidy @jyessaminereads @chlorrox @watercolorskyy @books-livre @quarterpastmidnight @lilyevanswhore @polishcrazyone @zablife @just-a-harmless-patato @stevie75 @flyingjosephine-blog @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @alex-in-the-wilderness @babayaga67 @butterfly-skinnylegend @shelbydelrey @mrkdvidal1989

Tommy

@knowledgefulbutterfly @babayaga67 @signorellisantichrist @lespendy @geeksareunique @look-at-the-soul @lothbrokcore @thats-what-cill-said

#valentines1k #valentineswritings #ask me to dance #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby & daughter!reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby angst #thomas shelby angst

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once-was-muses · 9 months

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How open are the muses to smut without a preexisting romance?

Antonio da Vinci: manwhore supreme, ready to go 80% of the time. And 15 of that missing 20%? He'll agree anyways. Especially if booze is or already was involved. Hello, unhealthy coping mechanisms.

The Artist: Carmina is a complicated case. Overall, her answer is not even remotely- unless they were friends first. She has to have some level of trust with another before even considering sex.

The Blight: unsurprisingly, the Fog's biggest recluse is not down for casual sex. Barely even has interest in sex to begin with- partly because he's so absorbed by his work and the thralls of the serum, but also because he refuses to realize that he's attracted to men rather than women.

Bookworm: he'll need some flattery and flirting first, but Winnie is relatively open to hookups. He's hired more than a couple prostitutes before- The only difference is a financial transaction. Maybe.

Candyman: highly unlikely. Daniel is an extremely romantic individual; there will be wooing and all that beforehand (and during if he has it his way.)

Claudette Morel: she's much too shy to pursue anything like that- any girl that's interested would have to approach her first, and even then there's no guarantee Claudette won't panic and bail.

The Doctor: manwhore supreme, spooky edition. Sex is one of his biggest vices, one which he is all too willing to indulge in with almost anyone.

The Dredge: depends on what it has to gain from the exchange. Not a hard no, but it will not be a healthy experience for either of them.

Goswin: very shy about the whole intimacy thing. Like Dan, xe thinks it would be demeaning for both involved to skip straight to knocking boots, more inclined to take things slow with proper courting.

Habeas Corpus: it has absolutely zero qualms about anonymous or casual hook ups, sex being one of their biggest and most common vices.

The Ichor: despite the ego Athanasios puts forth, they will be extremely suspect of any actual desire being present if proposition. They'll likely consent anyways, but be second guessing the genuineness of the whole thing the entire time.

March Harriet: she'd be flattered, really, but would probably decline (with some flustered stittering and plenty of blushing.) Harrie's a hopeless romantic through and through- she'd much rather try a date or two first, see where things go.

Rorschach: you're kidding, right? He's listed as "demi-homosexual" for a reason. It would take many, many years of trust before one could even begin trying to convince him to take his pants off without losing blood.

Saint Walker: bashful and shy about the topic by nature, but exceedingly sex positive. Casual hookups were far from taboo on Astonia. Whoever's interested will have to broach the topic first, though.

Salaak: also a big ol virgin, but way more uptight- and coming from a background where sex=marriage, thus there being a lot of anxiety for him. It would take A While before Sal would be open to sex with an established partner, so he's extremely unlikely to respond well to any advances from someone he's not involved with.

Scarecrow: he borders on demiromantic, needing a significant amount of trust before romance is an option, but he's not a stranger to picking someone up when the need strikes him. Granted he's not especially likely to have sex with someone in general because of his repression, prone to bottling any urges up for as long as he can when there's not someone to semi-regularly coax him into letting go.

The Spirit: Rin is Extremely Asexual- sex neutral, but still ace. The only appeal sex has to her is intimacy, and she only desires that from a romantic partner.

Thoth: surprisingly picky and flighty despite his reputation, very much reliant on his mood and the events leading up to any proposition. He's also unlikely to bring it up himself unless he's particularly frustrated. Just be warned; while he doesn't have godlike strength, he does have a ridiculously high libido.

The Wraith: once upon a time, Philip was a little looser with his life, more exploratory and outgoing. Now, he's extremely guarded and suspicious of others, unwilling to let anyone get too close- but, he still has needs in this nonhuman form, and has given into desperation on a rare few occasions. It's certainly improbable, but not impossible.

#Offered Insight : headcanons #Headliners : all muses #all muse hcs reposts #Such is Predestined : queue tag #nsfvv

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immoralitys · 2 years

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TEST MUSES ---- !

marcos whyte, 25 y/o, drew r*y tanner fc

fabricio baier, 22 y/o, michael c*mino fc

arin colombo, 44 y/o, chris m*ssina fc

caden grant, 40 y/o, l*e pace fc

kasey basile, 21 y/o, sav*nnah lee smith fc

pacey basile, 21 y/o, sav*nnah lee smith fc

as i’m incapable in not coming up with new muses constantly, under the cut are the bios and blurbs of new muses i’m in the process of fleshing out!

name: marcos whyte. d.o.b. 9 june 1997. faceclaim(s): drew ray tanner. gender: cis male. pronouns: he/him. sexuality: bisexual. nationality: brazilian. ethnicity: jamaican-chinese. languages: portuguese, patois, english occupation: graduate student in social work, graduate employee/assistanship. role: switch (primarily dominant).

marcos is a player, by any and all means. very flirty. frequently spends his weekends at parties.

grew up working class, originally got an athletic scholarship to live in the u.s. as long as he played on their soccer team (most likely a d1 school, think the tar heels or hoosiers), so he moved to the us when he was about 19. currently a graduate social work student focusing on systematic bias towards immigrant families.

struggles with informal written english, commonly gets confused with the connotation behind text messages from people or doesn’t pick up on tonal changes. has no problem with hearing informal english, but he’s the strongest in formal written english (ie academia)-- not informal.

his entire family still lives in brazil (salvador de brahia), which includes his grandmother, mother, and younger sister. he typically facetimes his mother for hours once a week, as they watch her favorite telenovela together.

when he’s extremely tired, overworked, overwhelmed, or any extreme emotion really, marcos tends to switch back to his native tongue (portuguese). sometimes its easier for him to figure out what he wants/needs this way, and will commonly reiterate what he said afterwards in english.

name: fabricio baier. nickname(s): “ricio” (ree-SEE-oh) or “fabi” d.o.b. 12 december 1999. faceclaim(s): michael cimino. gender: cis? male (figuring it out). pronouns: he/him/his. sexuality: queer (attracted to women and those feminine-presenting). nationality: puerto rican. languages: spanish, english occupation: professional skater (inline), part time worker @ a friend’s skate shop. role: true switch.

‘girls’ by justus bennetts is his life anthem

has a tendency to get in relationships far too fast, is liable at any point in time to have his heart broken

“raised by women” softie vibes . raised by two moms (kiara aka “mom” and fabiola aka “mami”), his grandparents (grandma on one side, grandma & grandfather on the other). his grandfather had memory issues all fabi’s life, eventually turned into alzheimer's, has nothing but amazing memories with him. thought his grandmothers were also lesbians until about age 8, because they were very close friends & neighbors, so to him that meant they were dating just like his moms. occasionally saw his birth father, who fufilled more of that “flighty and eccentric uncle” role, but never felt like he was missing out.

wanted to be tony hawk as a kid, but neither of his mothers knew how to skateboard, but his mami (fabiola) DID know how to rollerblade so she taught him how. it’s his main passion in life, spends a significant amount of his time practicing. competes in every major competition. sponsored by vans and seba skates. gives free lessons to kids @ his childhood friend’s skate shop in california.

does NOT believe he is “gifted” or a “natural talent”... barely believes he’s talented lbr. but he does think that he’s worked incredibly hard to get where he is, and couldn’t have gotten where he is without his family’s help.

see diaby diako or jeremy domingues for skill level/skate presence.

consistently ranked in top 10

name: arin colombo. d.o.b. 1 october 1977. faceclaim(s): chris messina. gender: cis male. sexuality: bisexual (male preference). nationality: american. languages: english, italian, asl occupation: art broker. role: dominant.

clientele are primarily high class criminals looking for a way to hide dirty money

has an african gray parrot who is 35 years old, arin got him when he was 9 years old because his grandparents didn’t want to deal with a cat or a dog. the bird’s name is el-el after ll cool j (”el-el looks more sophisticated”). knows about 900 words. is potty trained. arin treats el-el like a child. has a significantly large aviary on the roof of arin’s apartment building.

wears birkenstocks

bleach blonde hair

+tbd

name: caden grant. nicknames: "denny” --- most people, “cady” --- his late brother, and he hated it, 10/10 do not recommend calling him it, d.o.b. 21 august 1981. faceclaim(s): lee pace. gender: cis male. sexuality: bisexual. nationality: american. languages: english (fluent), mandarin (fluent), occupation: retired tech mogul. role: switch.

owns 3 golden retrievers “the three cheese blend”, all of which are named according to what cheese their coat color corresponds to : marscapone (white coat), manchego aka “manny” (fawn coated), and mimolette (red coated).

drives a hybrid chrysler mini-van “so my dogs r comfy”

also has a pininfarina battista that his old business partner bought him in 2021 as an anniversary gift for the company..... does not like it, thinks its too flashy, only uses it on rare ocassions

was on his college’s rowing team, cross country team, and soccer team.

still runs for sport, does a lap around his property every day (abt 4 miles)

kayaks a lot

exclusively wears patterened crew socks

is also a fan of patterned boxers

wears crocs (with socks) in the colder months, wears birkenstocks during the summer

everymorning for breakfast he has oatmeal with brown sugar, raisins, and peanut butter every morning.

buys his clothes at target, old navy, or l.l. bean

primarily flannels, graphic tee’s, jeans, cargo shorts, think peak dad

used to own a multi-billion dollar tech company (think akin to like... bill gates?), sold all of his shares 3-4 years ago as he was “tired of it” and “didn’t like computers enough to do this forever”.

he came to this revelation after his older brother, brayden “bray”, died at age 51, due to a car crash while intoxicated (aka was drunk and drove his car off the cliff on a turn)

lives in a converted barn (see here) in a forest somewhere in the pacific northwest, about an hour away from a major city (like salem, tacoma, etc).

owns like 600+ acres around his home, which is almost all highly-coveted farmland. he really only uses like 5/6 acres. leases the land rent-free to low income/poc families & farmers ... helps supply the machinery needed (bc fuck the big 6 seed companies and the regulations they put on farmers)

owns a beachfront home in california (probably looks like this), absolutely HATES IT ! thinks its too gaudy . spends a very small amount of his time here . only has it still because his dogs like the beach and finding dog-friendly beaches in the summer is impossible .

kasey basile (savannah lee smith fc): 21 y/o

occupation: undergrad student (political science major, engineering minor), d1 volleyball

hobbies: academic clubs, volleyball, extra-credit, dodging calls from mom & dad

+: argumentative, hardworking, agile

-: blunt, over-critical, accidental insomniac

TIDBIT: that friend that always has a snack in their bag. only has like 3 outfits (day-to-day/business casual, volleyball uniform, and banquet) and never strays from them, owns several of the same shirt/pants/socks. over-critical, nothing they do is good enough and nothing they achieve is enough. is always worried about what they have to do next... primarily because their parents thought that everything is either a waste of their time or part of their competition with their future. the way they're so over critical of themself stems from this behavior from their parents. very detached from their emotions because of the high pressure they have on their actions... wishes DESPERATELY they could confidently find connections and meaning in things. doesn't know when the last time they felt happy was, never felt love (other than from and for her twin sister, and like 1 friend they share). just wants to feel something. went all-american for volleyball during high school, has been on the all-american college team once. received several full rides to schools.

pacey basile (savannah lee smith fc): 21 y/o

occupation: key-holder at a record store/indie art gallery, dog sitter

hobbies: watching movies, arts & crafts, collecting plants

+: self-assured, artsy, easily impressed

-: impulsive, air-headed, regretful

TIDBIT: has more plants than sq ft in their apartment. takes her dreams way too seriously, lets them be the verdict for things they definitely should be. "oh, i'm not riding the bus today. i had a dream where a guy showed me his penis on the bus last night, and now i need a break" . always tells people, in extreme detail, when they appear in their dreams. AWFUL self control and impulse management... rushes into decisions, speaks before they think, spends a lot of their time apologizing for their own actions shortly after they're done. always buys things that are being sold by kids... no matter how bad the lemonade looks or how little they like girl scout cookies. did NOT receive the same pressure or attention from their parents as their twin did (they had a club foot at birth so their parents were immediately like :/// wack ass hoe)... because of this they'll do almost anything or anyone to feel wanted/the spotlight.

name: shana thompson. d.o.b. august 1st 2000. faceclaim(s): ciara bravo. gender: cis female. sexuality: bisexual. nationality: american. languages: english (fluent), latin (fluent), occupation: law student/intern. role: submissive.

grew up mega religious

im talking “it’s only a sin if it’s in my c*nt” religious

doesn’t even touch herself

a giant wip

#` --- test muses.#MY MR SIMP MICHAEL CIMINIO IS NOW IN EXISTANCE #` --- scout talks.#updated: 7/10/22

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morgana-ren · 4 years

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Come Down to the Black Sea III

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki, graphic depictions of violence, heavy sexual innuendo, implied noncon, foul language, sexual tension you can cut with a knife, and just general sexual grossness. Joking daddy kink also, if you count that.

PART I, PART II

Here you go! The third installment. Your seafaring friend finds your hot button and decides to plant some lovely ideas in your brain. Listening to them probably is not the smartest idea in regards to keeping your heart beating, but it certainly gets your thighs clenching.

Taglist: @lemonzoey, @babayaga67

You know, it's really rough to explain to your superiors at work why you're so distracted when it happens to be because a mythical being is giving you the cold shoulder.

You’re not entirely certain why it bothers you so much that your last encounter with him ended rather sour. He had made it perfectly plain from the get-go that his intent with you was far from pure. Murderous, in fact. He had almost drowned you on your first meeting and insulted you incessantly during your second. Not exactly a friendly track record.

Regardless, he’s made a permanent home crawling beneath your human skin, like some itch you can’t scratch away. You can try to justify it however you’d like, but you can’t ignore the truth. In a word full of mundane existence, you’ve found an oddity and as much as you’d like to pretend you aren’t, you’re drawn to it. It’s part of why you returned to the beach despite the clear and present danger. You’d found a living, breathing mermaid. Even more impressive, you’d managed to piss him off.

Mermaid? Is that accurate? He’s so sensitive to being classified wrongly, but still never told you what he was. Considering the circumstances, maybe you should be a little bit more concerned about other things rather than offending him, but it still bothers you.

Your ignorance isn’t due to lack of trying. You’ve done extensive research in the spare moments you have during the day, but nothing quite matches his description no matter how deeply you delve into the weirder parts of the internet, even going so far as to browse around on conspiracy sites on the darknet. Mermaid? Merman? Siren? Fish-guy? Some distantly related offspring to that Ripley’s Believe it or Not monkey fish? Relentless searching proved fruitless. Plenty of old sun-crazed fishermen claim to have seen merfolk in the waters or sirens on the rocks, but more often than not, it was a walrus or stage 4 sea madness. No one had a legitimate account of meeting with a real, intelligent creature of the deep. Nothing that came remotely close to him, anyway.

Despite being unable to focus at your job, getting home only doubles the anxiety. Restlessly sitting and twitching on the sofa, repeatedly trying and failing to read or watch some vapid TV show. You’re unable to keep your mind from returning to the ocean, to him no matter how hard you try.

Over the course of time, you become acutely aware that staying home clearly isn't an option, but you're not really sure what to say to him if you see him again. Why do you even care? Aren't you supposed to be ignoring him? You can excuse your obsessive thoughts about him since most people would have the same reaction to seeing something supernatural not once, but twice in front of their very eyes, but a lot of people wouldn’t continuously return to see it especially if it was malevolent.

You love that preemptively planning what to say to a sentient supernatural sea dweller is a part of your day. That's awesome. Can't look that one up on google.

You’ll compromise with your compulsiveness instead. Go a little early and watch the sun set down over the horizon instead of watching the moon rise. Most parents won't allow their children near your rock because it’s slippery and dangerous, and frankly, you don't think he'll show up when others can see him. He’s deadly, but a mob of terrified parents and curious beach goers has few rivals.

Maybe you can get your fill before he appears. It's better to keep away from him anyway. He wants you dead.

He wants you dead, you remind yourself.

And so you do. Tread the sandy trail down to your favorite little hideyhole and plop down on the hard surface. You kick your feet absentmindedly on the rock beneath you, watching the small particles of sand splay and regather with every motion of your foot. The crash of the waves, still tumultuous and ornery, slap the side of your makeshift perch and splash you with speckles of water every few moments. You don't mind. You needed to shower anyway.

You can't help but feel a bit more lonely than normal, even surrounded by so many more people than you usually are. Flustered moms urge their children in from the shore to wipe them down with towels and flighty young twentysomethings hoot and holler, laughing loudly as they pile into their cars to find their next big spot for the night. The moon rises and the beach empties, leaving you alone again. The ocean settles, and even though it feels better, you feel alone.

You close your eyes, resting your head sideways on your knees with your arms buckled around your legs. You're close to the edge, precariously so. You just want to be close to the water. You should move back.

In. out. in. out. in. out. in. out.

The waves seem to move in line with the beating of your own heart, a tranquil feeling that dulls your restless thoughts and engulfs you in quiet solace. The hum of the ocean resonating deep within you with each breath you take of the briny air.

You're aware enough to recognize that the sound of the sea is luring you into a false sense of comfort. The darkness seeping over the horizon doesn't make it easier, and soon your slowly wandering mind is on the brink of unconsciousness. You're dangerously close to falling asleep, and given the circumstances, that probably isn't the best idea, especially since you're precariously close to the water.

You can't help it, it's been one hell of a week. You haven’t slept. Haven’t relaxed. Haven’t felt at home in so long...

Listen, there's no guide online to look at that can help you through what to do when a malevolent fish-man hybrid has decided he wants to drown you. You can imagine it would say something along the lines of 'Stop going near the water then, dumbass' but that's like asking a religious person to stay away from church. It's the one place where you feel any semblance of peace, and you'll be damned if you're going to let the moonlight water marauder take that from you.

Still, it makes things in your life exponentially more difficult when you can't explain to anyone what's on your mind.

'Yeah, I met a mer...thing, and he's decided that he hates me and he wants to drown me, and that makes me sad. The one supernatural creature I get to meet and he doesn't like me. Bummer.'

They'd probably have you committed. That’s a bit much even for your eccentric proclivities.

Your body occasionally jerks you awake, probably its way of saying 'You cannot sleep when there are enemies nearby', but it feels like it's been weeks since you've had a decent night's sleep. The endless procession of days marked by existential crisis with the tacked on bonus of being aware of the existence of a nefarious fairy tale creature makes everything feel awfully surreal. It feels as if you've been running on pure adrenaline and are about to crash. Hard.

If you were smart, you'd go home and try to bank on the feeling of sleepiness currently plaguing you, but you just can't bring yourself to move. Even barring the flaxen haired fish dude just chomping at the bit to drag you under, napping this close to the sea is a bad idea in general. Tides change rapidly and all it would take is a few minutes of you being unaware for the waves to snag you and haul you off to a watery grave. They'd probably never find you, just like the others who disappear here at night.

But that's probably his doing, isn't it?

What does he do with the bodies exactly?

You really wish he wasn't trying to kill you, cause you have an endless list of questions you'd like to ask. What does he eat? Where does he live? Does he sleep at all?

Musing on all the things you'd like to know about him and his life leads you into fantasizing about being a talk show host interviewing him, and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you're conked out cold. You've managed to find an extremely awkward position to slump into, but even the horrid crick in your neck isn't enough to shake you from the dreamless slumber. Your body doesn't even have the energy needed to produce a dream, so instead, you just float through an endless void.

It could have been minutes, or even hours, really. You're not sure. The only thing strong enough to jar you awake is a sudden and intense feeling of dread that blooms in your stomach and gives you a form and sentience again. Your eyes snap open instinctively, and you're greeted with a pair of spiteful red eyes far too close to you for comfort.

"Jumping jesus-!"

Surprised is a nice word for what you feel, an ugly screech emanating from your throat as you kick out your feet, knocking yourself over and almost falling in the water in the process. You hit your head nice and hard on a particularly jagged portion of the rocks, and by the time your vision undoubles, the danger is just barely settling in.

Except danger is too busy cackling to be a threat.

You try to grapple with the panic in your chest and get a grasp on reality again after your literal rude awakening, but it's a bit rough when the sadistic jackass who perpetuated it in the first place won't stop laughing. Apparently he's too amused to take the opportunity to seize you, so you take the moment to scoot much further back and out of his reach, resisting the urge to plant your foot right on his stupid face.

Eventually he quiets down, but the grin never leaves his face. Much like everything about him, it's hostile somehow, mocking and disingenuous.

"Humans really are so stupid."

"Joke is on you, tunabreath. You wasted the perfect opportunity to actually grab me."

He shakes his head, tutting you. "I couldn’t resist. We like to play with our food too, sometimes. Scared ones taste better."

Is he implying he eats people? Okay, you know what? You don't wanna know. You doubt he'd be honest about it anyway, and would probably say whatever unnerves you the most. He seems a prick like that.

"I thought the entire point was to drown me and get it over with. You’re borderline obsessed with it."

He scoffs, little head fins twitching as he waves you off. "If I’m going to waste my time, don't make it so easy. It's less fun."

Okay cool, this is all a game to him; your life is a game to him. Nice. Fun. Great.

Something on your face must have given away your ire, because he simpers at you and another raspy laugh bubbles in his chest.

"It's not my fault you're stupid. You're the idiot sleeping next to the ocean when you know what's waiting for you when you get too close. It’s like you want me to devour you."

"I thought after your little tantrum last night, you were gone for good. You really can throw a fantastic hissy fit."

That wipes the smile from his face.

“Little brat.” He taps a claw on the rock, narrowing his eyes at you. “Tough talk from someone afraid of getting a little wet.” He drags out the final word with a mocking tone, clicking his tongue against his fangs with the final syllable.

“For the last time, I’m not afraid of getting wet-” It takes it a second to sink in but wow this all sounds so wrong. Your face darkens and a familiar tingle worms itself in your gut. Are you really that lonely? “And don’t say it like that!”

His brows furrow and he studies you with a slightly quizzical expression. “Like what?”

How do you explain to a dude who presumably has no cock and no human sexual experience about the sexual insinuations of human expressions? Wow. This is not a talk you thought you’d be having. The entire situation is weird, but this really sets the bar.

“I know you’re probably not familiar with it, but that sounds... weird. It just sounds weird, okay?”

“I don’t understand.” His lips curl downward in annoyance, arching a pale brow in your direction.

“Look, when a human and another human... do stuff, things happen to their bodies and-“ a twisted sense of shame curdles your stomach and you go to scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes. Your words trail off somewhere mid sentence. If you were looking, you could practically see the gears turning in his head, but a few seconds later, his face pops in realization.

“I’m fully aware of your human mating habits.”

“Don’t say it like that either! Jesus, you’re so awkward.”

A slow smile spreads over his face and he leans closer to you, tail swishing in a steady rhythm beneath the water. “Why? You’re over the ‘age of consent’, as it’s put, right? A sexually mature human female? Does it make you uncomfortable when I say things like that? Or does it make you something else?”

He trails his claws in a walking motion towards your out of reach leg, and embarrassment isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion that colors your face as you recoil from his wandering fingers. “Knock it off!”

“Has it been a while since someone touched you, little human?”

“None of your business! You’re such a creep! And what do you know about it anyway? Don’t you fuckin’ lay eggs or something?”

He ignores your pointed jab, licking at his chapped lips as he runs his piercing eyes over you a bit too invasively for your liking. “You wanna know, huh? I can show you.” He reaches towards you again and you wiggle back a few more inches, caught between his words and the friction igniting feelings you’re desperately trying to ignore between your thighs.

“I’m getting mixed signals here. Are you trying to drown me or fuck me?”

“Who says I can’t do both?” He tilts his head, gaze lingering on your lips before drifting down to your chest without shame. His attention still feels utterly predatory, but for a different form of predator entirely. “Your death doesn’t have to be entirely painful, you know.”

“S-stop it.”

He’s giving you whiplash with his intense mood swings, but you can’t deny the less than appropriate places his words drag your mind to. Heat ignites inside you, warmth spreading through your navel as your cheeks burn deeper than they did before. You will it away, trying to shake loose the thoughts from your mind. No fucking way are you even considering this.

“Look, even if our bodies were compatible, which they aren’t, it’s not like you wanting to kill me is a turn on.”

He gives you another lilting grin, flicking his tongue and hissing in a foreign laugh. “Are you sure? I know that some of your kind are into that sort of thing. Hard. Rough. Dangerous. And judging by your face-“

Another bout of blood colors your cheeks so intensely that you can literally feel it. Oh God, make it stop.

“-You might be.”

“Shut it, shark bait!”

“And who’s to say we’re not compatible? I know plenty. Something about the beach is an aphrodisiac to you humans. Not to mention~” Another grin, but this one gives off the undeniable air of ‘I know something you don’t know.’ “You have no idea what I can do.”

You can’t help but look back at him as he says it and you can tell he means every word. The unnatural scarlet glow of his eyes seems far too welcoming, calling to you like some sort of beacon in the darkness. The soft gleam of his silvery hair in the moonlight far too inviting. You want to touch it, wonder what it would feel like entwined between your fingers, what it smells like and how those claws would feel like scratching against the sensitive skin of your ass as he holds you steady against his hips.

You bet those fangs aren’t just for show, and judging by his attitude, he’s probably not afraid to use them. You bet they’d feel all sorts of nice scraping and digging into your flesh, biting you and licking that thick tongue up and over your neck, maybe even a bit lower if you asked him nicely. He’s so lithe, so strong, he’d have no problem fucking you against the rock even with the water resistance. His slick skin rubbing against yours, webbed hands squeezing your waist, kneading your tits, pressing the rounds of your neck until you gave yourself over to him completely and the taste of him is the last thing you ever knew.

Okay, you admit it. You are really curious to see just what it is he can do. You’d probably be the first human in history to find out, the first girl to be fucked to literal death by a siren. Would it really be such a terrible way to die? Being dragged under metaphorically and physically and spending your last moments in pleasure wholly unknown to the moral realm?

He smiles softly, watching you toss it around in your mind as he cradles his head in his palm. He’s beautiful, and you loathe it. You hate that you’re even considering this, even toying with the thought as if it’s really an option. What the hell are you doing? This is complete madness!

“You aren’t serious, are you?”

He gestures you forward seductively, nibbling gently on his scarred bottom lip, keeping your eyes squarely trained on his mouth. “Come a little closer and find out. I promise I bite. Extra hard if you beg.”

Another clench between your legs. Shake it loose, shake it loose! “Look, even if I believed for a split second you wanted to seduce me, you really think I’m going to literally die for the chance?”

“What else are you going to die for?”

Oddly deep. Not a thought you wanted to ponder right now. Expertly deflect it with sarcasm and ignore the fact that he has a very good point.

“Of old age, in my bed, surrounded by loved ones and piles of money I didn’t get the chance to spend yet.”

He scoffs, blowing air through his nose. “Sure.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs, shucking aside your irritation. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”

“Prick.”

He giggles, finding your crass human mouth oddly endearing. “Well, the offer stands. I told you I’m not going anywhere until you're under the water with me.” He pauses, considering you for a moment before grinning darkly. “I might just do it anyway, but it’s better if you’re willing. Not that I’ve ever been averse to a little struggle.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to say no when you can’t speak. I could easily bypass this little game of playing hard to get, but I want to see you squirm.” He eyes between your legs and you pray to the Gods that he thinks the dampness residing there is because of the watery environment. “I want to see you beg before the light goes out in those pretty eyes.”

“You’re a fucking perv!”

“I told you I’m going to watch you drown, you really put it past me to not take other forms of satisfaction from you while I’m at it?”

He presents a good point. You resent the fact that you don’t entirely feel repulsed by the thought. You should. You should be mortified and terrified and other words that end in ‘fied’. You should run and never come back. You know you should.

You lean forward.

“I’d like to see you try, fish boy.”

A strangely genuine smile spreads across his lips and his face seems to light up at your words. It's still menacing, but oddly cute; like a child getting ready and excited to play their favorite game.

"You really think you can win this, huh?" He muses, looking up at you through those pale lashes. "You sure are something, little girl."

"What do I have to lose? If you win, you kill me, and whatever else, but I won't care, because I'll be dead. If I win, I get to see that arrogant smarminess wiped off your face when you don't get what you want. You'll have wasted all this time for nothing, and I guess that's a small consolation prize alongside my life."

“Time means nothing to me, but if it makes you feel better about the situation.”

From the way he says it, you don't deny it. It dawns on you that you really know nothing about his people. Do they age like you? Do they age at all?

“How old are you?”

"Older than you by far, I promise. What a rude question. How old are you?"

“Old enough. But that doesn’t answer my question. Don’t deflect.”

"No manners, you humans." He ponders it for a minute. "You count the passing of time in revolutions around the sun, right? I'd bet I had been an adult for a very long time while you were still learning to walk on wobbly little legs."

It's your turn to laugh now, and he doesn't seem amused. "You're an old man! Ew! You're an interspecies cradle robber!"

"I'm not old! We live exponentially longer than you! I'll still be in my prime when you're an elder!" His pallid face is dusted slightly red in frustration, and it's almost funnier than his reaction.

"Whatever you say, grandpa! Do you have an undersea walker? Drink sea prune juice? Is that why your hair is silver? Cause you're old?"

Self consciously, he strokes the front of his long bangs between his fingers. "No! You're an immature little brat!"

"Back in my day~" You barely dodge a swipe from one of his claws as he jumps as far forward as he can and swings at you. "Careful gramps, you don't wanna hurt yourself. You’ll break a hip or whatever it is you have."

He sneers at you and you bask in the minor victory.

You sit in silence; him with a scowl tightly pulled across his thin lips, and you with a smug little grin. So it’s not impossible to get under his scales.

He’s a world class pouter, you’ll give him that. He doesn’t strike you as vain, but this is probably uncharted territory for him; actually talking to a human and subsequently being made fun of for his age. He’s probably not used to being mocked in any sense of the word, seeing as he’s a ‘non existent’ mythical creature. Maybe his kind are prideful, if a little childish. He claims to have existed for ages, but he still has the mannerisms you’d attribute to a male around your age. Maybe a tad immature and explosive himself. You guess some things don’t change with the species. Aggression, domination, and sex. And murder, in his case.

Some things are universal, it seems.

He’s making a show of ignoring you now, clicking his claws together in a subconscious attempt to threaten you. They are awfully sharp. You swear looking at them makes the gashes on your arm start to ache all over again. Occasionally the fins on the side of his head twitch in an almost catlike manner, turning toward whatever source of sound can be heard. It’s so strange to you, you can’t help but stare. He looks ethereal, even as impudent as he’s acting. With the backdrop of the ocean and the moon behind him, he looks like a painting that belongs in a gallery. You can’t stop yourself from leering at him.

You’re trying to ignore the fact that he definitely takes notice.

He's angry at you, displeasure still slightly evident in his face, but a small smile crooks his lips. You've clearly offended him but your leering goes a little way towards soothing the hairs you've rubbed the wrong way. For whatever reason, knowing you find him attractive puffs his feathers- er, scales- with pride. Body language relaxes between the two of you and a few minutes of quiet follows.

Yet, it's difficult to keep a pleasant silence when the company you keep is far from familiar. This isn't two friends relaxing on a beach; at least unless most friends are malevolent ocean dwelling creatures with an end goal of filling the other's lung with sea water.

The lack of noise makes you antsy, almost like you're anticipating something but you're unsure of what. It feels false somehow, like you're trying to turn this isn't something it isn't; comfortable. No matter how his casual demeanor tries to lull you into a false sense of security, you have to remain vigilant. One little slip and he'll drag you into a watery grave- among other things if he was serious.

“So… What do you eat?”

He slow blinks at you a few times before grinning, light glinting off his all-too-sharp fangs. “You mean besides you?”

There’s multiple implications to that, neither one of which you want to ponder for various reasons. Your panties are already uncomfortably damp.

“Yes. Besides us.”

Shrugging, he flicks at a small pebble on the rocks edge and plunks it into the water. "Same thing you would if you were one of us. There's plenty of fish down here, only difference is I can eat them raw."

Your nose crumples and you stick your tongue out slightly, imagining him taking a bite out of a still-twitching fish. "Ew."

He rolls his eyes, brushing your obvious disgust aside. "If I recall, don't you humans have multiple dishes you eat raw?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, but it's different. We actually prepare it."

"Sounds like a whole lot of fuss over nothing. Your weak stomach just can't handle it and mine can, and you seem to find that to be some sort of bragging point. Also, don't you humans have a tendency to put things in your mouth that don't belong there?"

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut up about that?”

"I don't know, I'd say the occasional raw fish is a lot less dirty than a human male c-"

“Oh my god! I am so sorry I fucking asked!”

He cackles loudly and you realize that he's officially found your hot button. Even worse is he knows it. "I mean that's not to say we don't have our own filthy habits, but you guys are inspiring-"

"Dude! Make like a tunafish and can it! I don't want to hear any of this!"

"Oh? Is that so? Because around 10 minutes ago, you were half ready to rip your clothes off and jump in here and let me try you even if it meant your death."

"Momentary lapse in judgement. Don't get too excited, grandpa."

He frowns again but seems less offended now that the initial moment had passed. "If you insist upon calling me a nickname pertaining to my age, I'd prefer daddy."

All humor drops from your face. How the fuck does he even know about that?

As if he can read your mind, he responds. "A lot of you humans like to reproduce here. I've seen quite a bit and heard even more. Like I said, you’re absolutely filthy creatures.”

“Ah. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“My offer stands. Come a little closer and I’ll show you just what I learned.”

“Creep.”

“That makes two of us, now doesn’t it?”

"I'm not the one bringing up sex every 3 seconds."

Hey, do you know how awkward it is to be having this conversation? With him? Right now? Do you know how utterly surreal this is?

“No, but you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn and you know it doesn't matter what you say. Your face is a dead giveaway. He knows it too, crossing his arm and arching a cocky brow at you.

“And I’m the pervert, huh?”

You wrap your arms around your legs again in a subconscious show of defense. "Yes, you are. This is a natural response to embarrassing topics. Topics you keep coming back to."

He shrugs again, his head fins twitching a few times. "I don't deny my nature. If I feel lustful, I act on it. Another reason you humans are inferior. You deny what comes naturally in the name of some form of... shame, is it? I have no bonds holding me back, while yours are pointless and dictated by some invisible and shallow form of ‘morality’ and ‘purity."

He’s… technically right. Still.

"You realize you're saying this to the person you're trying to kill, right?"

"I'm aware. Consider it a parting gift. You can feel what it's like to be untethered before I end you."

You roll your eyes so deeply that you’re almost certain you’ve detached the retina. “Oh, how very kind of you. So thoughtful.”

"It’s not entirely altruistic, but it's better than I was originally planning. I was just going to rip you apart the second I pulled you in. Of course, that was before I got a good look at you. It'd be a shame to waste such a pretty thing without getting a taste first.”

It's a twisted compliment, but you appreciate it, at least as much as the circumstances allow.

“Thanks… I think?”

"It's a good thing, I promise. I won't just touch anyone, you know. Most of your kind repulses me. I'm not an easy please."

"Oh." Another awkward silence. "What makes me so special, anyways?"

His face blanks over, eyes hardening and mouth pursing in a tight line. He opens his lips a few times to speak, but seemingly stops himself. His expression flashes confusion, then rage, then apathy in quick succession. "I don't know. It won't matter for long anyways, soon you'll be dead and I can move on."

“Not if I win.”

"You won't. I don't lose. Besides, I've already almost gotten you twice. It's only a matter of time before you slip up again, and I'll be there to catch you when you do."

"Put it like that and it almost sounds sweet." A smile tugs at your lips despite yourself.

His face flushes and he looks away from you, expression contorting. “It’s not. Don’t twist my words.”

“Spoilsport. Go eat a mackerel or something. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry. Or maybe you are. Either way, you’re cranky.”

"It's hard not to be cranky when there's a meal right in front of me and I can't indulge."

"Quit threatening to eat me. I get the point, it's just weird.”

His thick tongue flicks out and runs across those glimmering teeth and he just smiles. "Who said anything about eating?"

“Give it a rest.”

He swipes a small amount of water at you with his thumb and forefinger. "Deny it all you'd like, you enjoy the attention."

"Definitely. I love being the first human to be hit on by the world's first mermaid fuckboy."

A hybrid mix of a groan and a growl rumbles from his chest. "I'm not a fucking mermaid!"

"Oh, sorry!" The sarcasm is palpable, and he scowls at you again. You love the fact he doesn't deny the secondary insult. "I meant merman."

"Don't insult me. As if your petty, unimaginative fairytales could even come close."

"You have a tail, you live underwater, and you're half human. Sounds pretty damn close to me."

The look on his face is as if you just forced him to swallow something extraordinarily disgusting. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. And I'm not half human. You're half us."

Now that takes you off guard.

“What did you say? What do you mean?”

"It doesn't matter." He pushes himself away from the rocks, his tail slightly flapping above the surface. "Besides, you were right. I am hungry. I should probably find something to eat for tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind." He doesn’t bother waiting for you to retort before skillfully diving down back beneath the waves.

You want to stop him, but he’s gone before you can think of a creative way to say ‘hell no’. The slight dash of silver hair makes out towards the horizon and before long, he's gone. As always, he leaves you feeling more frustrated than anything.

You want to stay, to enjoy the ocean like you used to before he barged his way into your life, but it all just feels too strange now. He won't return tonight, you know that much.

Heaving yourself off your asleep butt, you begin your bowlegged walk back to civilization, left with nothing but the ache of a cramp in your hips and a strangely heavy feeling in your gut.

#Shigaraki x Reader #Shigaraki Tomura #Come Down to the Black Sea #See warnings up top

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inkweaver22-blr · 3 years

Text

Welcome to chapter nine! This one was meant to just be another filler with one of my own AU’s, but Tang just had to be introspective and have a moment of character growth. Hope you enjoy!

EDIT: This chapter has been edited to include some new info dropped on the same day I originally posted this! More info in the End Notes!

AO3 Link

Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Nine: Rocks and Roles

Tang knows how to act. That doesn't mean he likes to play every part.

----------

Tang liked to think of himself as a decent actor, at least back in the original timeline. He had been part of the theater class in high school and telling stories required a bit of a dramatic flair if you wanted to keep your audience entertained. Convincing Pigsy he was a popular food critic hadn’t been too hard back then.

The many cycles he had been through had certainly helped polish his skill into a genuine talent. That one time where he and everyone else had been professional actors playing the roles of themselves from the original timeline as part of a show had especially allowed him to hone himself to a greater degree than before.

Being stuck jumping through time had practically made it a necessity.

It wasn’t that Tang enjoyed what was essentially lying to his family. It was more for their protection. He had almost broken the “No Interference” rule a few times when he hadn’t properly reacted to events that, while shocking or upsetting to his family, were simply part of his routine by now. He couldn’t allow the repetitive nature of the cycles to make him slip up and potentially cause more harm by being confronted by his lack of surprise or fear.

So he acted. He gasped at all the right moments or screamed in fear when in danger. Every laugh, every sigh of exasperation, every freak out over something related to Wukong was perfectly performed so as to not to raise suspicion. So long as the proper reaction occurred in response to the correct effect, everything went smoothly.

It wasn’t too hard or taxing as he never needed to fake his enjoyment of being around his family. Luckily for him, he also didn’t have to act exactly as he had been in the original timeline, or he may have gone insane from the monotony of it.

The cycles where his background was entirely rewritten were blessings in disguise, really. They were new. Fresh experiences for Tang to have and not have to work as hard to realistically react to.

He treated them like a method acting exercise. The new memories as part of Tang’s new backstory was the motivation for the ‘character’ he was playing. He didn’t have to fully adhere to them, but they certainly helped him play the role provided to him for the cycle.

He still disliked playing the villain however.

It happened a few times before already. The most notable had been when Zhu Bajie was in the role of Sun Wukong as MK’s mentor.

Tang shuddered at the memory of that timeline.

Saying that version of him had been unhinged was severely downplaying the many atrocities he had performed on both himself and others. Committing suicide to erase his name from the books of the dead, killing demons to absorb their lifeforce, and cutting open his own chest to manually insert the gem holding that lifeforce into himself for power were simply the tamer actions he had committed.

He supposed that heartbreak, jealousy, and internalized insecurities could drive even the most benign people to madness so long as they properly justified their actions to themselves.

It had been the first time in quite a while that Tang seriously considered intentionally breaking the interference rule and just running off to live in solitude for the entire cycle. Getting “redeemed” had been one of the most difficult things he had tried to pull off.

Tang dodged a swipe from the Monkey King’s staff as he was brought back into the present.

He was the villain once again this cycle. Luckily though, he was much less of a threat to his family this time around.

He was replacing Red Son as the demon child of Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang, Son of the Earth.

He wasn’t the only one who was switched around. Pigsy, who went by Bajie, was a human who had become Wukong’s successor. MK was a boar demon who ran the noodle shop. Red Son was a scientist and engineer who frequented the restaurant.

It was almost an opposite reflection of the cycle he had just been musing about.

“You’ll have to do better than that, noodle boy,” Tang taunted as he swung his arms to pull chunks of stone from the ground, his hands and the Earth he controlled both glowing with a golden-yellow light.

He supposed that it made sense for him to have some sort of elemental power if he was this timeline’s Red Son. Earth fit as he had certainly mellowed out over the course of the cycles, becoming more focused and self assured. His original self would have most certainly been associated with air with how flighty he had been.

Tang made sure to keep his full concentration as he attacked Bajie. Earth may be the element of the sturdy, but it had the potential to be much more volatile than fire. It was easy to let loose and cause a catastrophic earthquake. It took precision to control smaller pieces of rock without causing too much collateral damage.

Bajie batted away the earthen projectiles with ease and rushed into an opening Tang had intentionally left. He had to do his best to not rely on the fighting skills he had from previous cycles and use only what his memories knew when playing a villain. Otherwise he’d easily beat the fledgling hero and that certainly would be treated as interfering.

Tang winced as the staff connected with his ribs and sent him flying. He coughed as he pulled himself up, holding his injured side as he glared at the now smirking Bajie.

“How’s that for better!”

“This isn’t over,” Tang cried out dramatically. He activated his powers, this time summoning a whirlwind of sand to teleport away.

Another scene as the villain successfully played out.

----------

Tang sat in his workshop, calculating the specific size of a rune circle he would need.

It seemed that similarly to how Red Son was a genius that incorporated magic into science, this version of Tang was one who incorporated science into magic. Not a big distinction, but important in how the process worked. It still took an impressive amount of knowledge on both subjects to work them together in the end.

Setting his pen down to take a break, Tang looked around as he stretched. He caught his reflection in a nearby piece of metal machinery he had been fiddling with and examined himself once again.

He didn’t look too different from his human self, his face remaining the same. His hair was now a dark brown with yellow highlights and his glasses were much smaller. The biggest difference were the bull horns sticking out of the side of his head.

He didn’t mind them too much, but having to give up any pull over shirt for button downs was a hassle.

Looking at his horns lead the demon scholar to think about his parents in this timeline.

Demon Bull King and Princess Iron Fan.

Tang frowned as he recalled the less than comforting welcome he had received after returning from his defeat. The disapproving dismissal from his father and scathing taunts from his mother had been demoralizing. It would have hurt more if he hadn't had the years of time jumping behind him.

If this was how Red Son was commonly treated, it was no wonder he worked hard in everything he did just to gain a scrap of approval and praise.

And yet he knew they loved each other. The moments he noticed didn’t happen often, but he could tell that his parents held some affection for him, and he obviously cared for them. He just didn’t understand why they acted so cruelly to one another.

Was it a demon thing? Were they afraid that by showing their love they were showing weakness?

That was certainly possible, but Tang disagreed with the sentiment. He had been through enough cycles to see that love made one stronger. It wasn’t the weakness their enemies thought it was.

Tang was already planning on becoming redeemed in this cycle. It hurt to think his parents would disown him, but what if that didn’t have to happen?

He thought about that one specific cycle and how he had become so twisted. All of it could have been avoided had his past self simply let go of his long held beliefs and went with Bajie.

Now he just had to make two powerful demons do just that.

Tang was an amazing actor.

He also had many years of watching the people around him and knew most of them almost better than they knew themselves.

His current parents were no exception.

He could see the potential for a loving and healthy family, buried just beneath the surface.

It would take some work, but he was sure he could unearth it and polish that potential until it shined.

With renewed energy, Tang pulled out a blank scroll and began planning.

He had a family to save.

----------

Welcome to what I’m calling the Noodle Swap AU! It is named that way because the only change is that the pairs that make up the two most popular noodle ships (SpicyNoodles and FreeNoodles) swap places!

Shout out to @winterpower98 for their amazing Actor AU and Dad Swap AU mentioned in this chapter! Go check them out!

Yes, yes, I know I’ve basically made Tang here Terra from Teen Titans. Most people would give him Air as an element, but 1) we already have an Air user in Princess Iron Fan and 2) Tang has changed quite a bit since the start of this Time Hopping experience, as he states himself in the chapter.

I do genuinely believe there’s a loving family hidden somewhere underneath all the cruelty the DBK crew throw at each other. It’s already been hinted that Red Son will get a redemption arc in the show, but I want one for his parents too.

That’s all for now! See you in the next chapter!

:IMPORTANT EDIT!!!!:

There's been a few paragraphs changed and added to include the new canon lore for Tang in the Dad Swap AU! Go check out @kitkat1003's absolutely ASTOUNDING work, When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel! It is INCREDIBLE and if it was finished, you'd absolutely know there would be an entire chapter dedicated to it here.

#Ink Writes #Scattered Cicadas #Monkie Kid #Tang #Tang Monkie KId #Pigsy #Zhu Bajie #Red Son #MK #Demon Bull King #Princess Iron Fan #Sun Wukong #winterpower98 #kitkat1003 #When the Tide Pulls Away and the Earth Sharpens to Steel #Dad Swap AU #Actor AU #Noodle Swap AU #LEGO Monkie Kid

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

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WIP Word Search

It was tagged by @oxygenforthewicked to find the words ‘deep’, ‘numb’, and ‘crash’ in any of my WIPs! Thank you so much for the tag! This was interesting and challenging! XD

I’ll tag @noire-pandora and @little-lightning-lavellan to find ‘water’, ‘dark’, and ‘cold’! (Words fail me somehow when I’m not actively writing. Huh. X’D) A little more Dragon!Fane! Still playing with that idea of a mini series recounting the days Solas and Fane first met. :3

“I apologize for this, ma’isenatha,” Solas apologized in a hushed, deep voice, the tone filled with so much sincerity that Fane didn’t even bother to huff out a dismissal. Instead, he merely kept his eyes fixed on the lavender pair before him and quietly basked in hands that caressed rather than slapped as they rested upon his snout. “You know that I despise leaving you alone here, but this is something that cannot wait.” A small smile was offered to him, wispy, but genuine. “In fact, it may present an opportunity in the form of new allies. Something we are sorely in need of.”

Fane let out a small huff, questioning. New…allies? What allies were there to be had in an empire where many favored a fist rather than an outstretched hand? Solas stared at him for a few moments, calm, attentive until finally his eyes sparked with a hint of indigo.

“Recognition,” Fane mused within his mind, watching as Solas’ eyes drifted downwards and his hands began to…pet his snout with something akin to…reverence. His eyes narrowed a bit at both the warmth such a touch carried and how his soul was touched. “He can see the curiosity within my gaze, and knows that I have questions that can never be vocalized as his own can. Yet, he recognizes them as if they are coming from one of his own…” He inched his head closer to Solas, silently grateful, and he couldn’t help but huff with something he hoped would be perceived as fondness as the wolf’s lavender eyes grew a size larger. “You are a mystery, Fen’harel. One I never thought to be so wholly divested in unraveling…”

After a few moments of indigo-lavender shock, Solas’ eyes calmed and a wider, more unguarded smile was presented to him. Fane swore he felt his heart smack against the sturdy bones of his chest, something that made his eyes widen in surprise. Why…why did this elf make his core so warm? White dragons were not meant to be warm…

“You are…” Solas began, trailing off within moments before letting a quiet sigh and pressing his forehead against the bridge of his snout. Fane huffed a tad harsher, wanting the other to continue, and he got it in the form of a chuckle and a light back and forth of a warm head against his scales. “–a mystery, ma’isenatha. One I am very glad to have found.”

Fane blinked, stunned by both familiar words and tender actions. He was a mystery? A mystery to the mystery?! Well, he supposed that was valid, given that they were two completely different races and should for all intents and purposes be enemies, but–!

So ensnared in the confused, but somehow happy spiral of his mind, Fane barely even noticed how Solas lifted himself from his snout, an amused smirk on his face.

“Yes, a beautiful mystery.” Solas muttered with every ounce of tenderness that possibly existed in his being, but again, Fane barely heard it as he turned his head to the sky, mentally pointing out cloud formations so as to calm his pounding heart. Why was his heart fluttering like a newborn dragon’s?! Why did he feel restless and flighty, but yet unwilling to part from the wolf before him?!

Ohh, he did not understand these specific emotions!

This is from a possible short story (I’m not sure yet because it keeps growing.) kind of exploring how Fane handles everything after the Temple of Mythal and Mhairi’s decision regarding the Guardian at the sanctuary.

Despite feeling a tad worried over the mage’s chilly condition, Fane rather…liked how the other looked at present, the purity of Vyrantium samite, the deep tone of blackened hide wrappings, and the mixture of different animal furs seeming all the more ethereal when wet, when it hugged a form he knew by wrote. He’d made a good, good choice on that color scheme when he had made that set of armor for the mage. Oh, yes.

“A white wolf with lavender eyes…” Fane mused silently, letting his gaze coast up and down Solas’ form since he was still currently occupied with the task of ridding himself of leaves and foliage. “Purity suits you, my sky.” He traced the edges of an outwardly calm face, caressing its jaw with his gaze, and feeling his own expression go passive. “...Even though I know you don’t agree. Neither of us are pure. We haven’t been for a very, very long time, but maybe one day we can get a sliver of such a virtue back…”

Fane let out a tiny sigh, shaking his head a bit to try and shun the melancholy beginning to surround him. What was with him? It wasn’t atypical for him to rock back and forth between levity and dourness, but this was…annoying. Bemoaning concepts lost didn’t bring them back. Regretting how certain things transpired wouldn’t magically change how they had. All he could do, all they could do was keep moving forward. Together. Always together.

With that bit of solidity shoring up the shaky foundations of his mind, Fane continued to watch Solas, waiting for that blessed moment when their eyes would meet. After all, wet and white was nice, but one piece was missing.

Fane could only detect a glimpse of iridescent lavender since the mage, as practical as ever, was donning a cowl that shaded such brilliance from view. Unfortunate, but he’d rather Solas try to keep as dry as he could. He could easily see the sky from any distance, any shade of blue. After all, be it midnight or steel, it always spoke.

Just as it did now as Solas finally brought his head up to meet his gaze, facial features visible even when cloaked in the gentle shadow of cloth. Fane offered up a tiny smile, and immediately felt his knees grow weak when it was returned without hesitation, lavender sparking to life within pale blue and gray.

Oh, that smile, colored and uncolored, was dirty. He’d be lost without it.

“Hey,” was all Fane could think to say to break the gentle silence between them, mind numb as lavender only seemed to shine more and more the longer he kept eye contact. His whole body only seemed to weaken more as Solas let out a quiet chuckle, eyes softening upon him.

“Hello, vhenan.” Solas greeted him calmly, but his voice held so much warmth, Fane swore all the water in the vicinity would evaporate from it. However, the way pale orbs gave him a slow, thorough up and down might have succeeded in doing that as well. “Enjoying the rain?”

Fane let out a light chuckle despite how his face was growing warm from the other’s silent appraisal of his body. Guess he wasn’t the only one to have been feeling…restless. What he wouldn’t give to have just an hour to worship and adore…

“More like it’s enjoying me.” Fane retorted, internally praising himself for not stuttering. He was getting the hang of not fumbling for words every time Solas looked at him. He cast his own gaze to his form, mouth twitching with an expression of mild annoyance when he saw just how much the rain was seeming to liken to him. “I’m soaked. Between the rain itself and the salt spray, I’m surprised I’m still flesh and bone, and not an amorphous pool.”

The sound of footsteps making a graceful transition from grass to rock had Fane looking back up. He barely even flinched as Solas appeared before him, lavender and unique features ever more apparent now that he was close. Tiny droplets of water dripped from the edge of the mage’s hood, sometimes defying the barrier’s edge and managing to find its way to flesh, making the pale expanse glisten, and Fane couldn’t help but bask, once again, in how good the other looked.

Maybe he was enjoying the storm. Just a bit.

“If you are fearful of melting, ma’isenatha–” Two hands came up to where Fane thought the other was about to cup his face, as he was always prone to do, but all-encompassing heat never came to his cheeks. Instead, he was greeted with the abrasive sound of cloth before the crash of waves became muffled and its sights became tunneled to where he only saw Solas’ quiet smile and eyes. “–then you should ward yourself against elements that would bring such a concept to life. You have a hood attached to your jacket for a reason. I would advise using it while we’re here.”

Fane blinked, processing what was happening. He cast his gaze left, meeting dark cloth, but it illuminated his mind a tad. He then cast it right, where he once again met dark cloth, and once again, his mind sparked. Understanding didn’t truly invade him until he brought his eyes back to land upon an amused shade of periwinkle.

Oh. Right. He did have a hood attached to his jacket, didn’t he? Well, how…convenient.

…Or it would have been had he remembered having it in the first place. The things one forgot when their mind was filled with so much.

“...Thanks.” Fane muttered before lifting one of his hands to tug on the edge of his hood a bit, shielding the upper part of his face from the mage’s view. “Guess I, um, forgot I attached it. My other set didn’t have one…” He wasn’t lying, but it was rare that he mixed up his armor sets. It was a bit embarrassing, truth be told. “But, I was only out for, what, a little over an hour? A little rain won’t kill me.”

“True enough. However–” Solas’ voice reached him past the cloth and the continued, muffled sound of rain. “–you were not gone for an hour, Fane. You were gone for nearly three.” The gentle scrape of rocks made Fane’s ears twitch, but had his head hanging a bit more as the realization of how long he’d been standing out in the rain hit him, and he honed in how the air around them shifted to a more somber sensation. “...Vhenan, is everything alright? The rate at which you are isolating yourself is…worrying.”

The words held no accusation, no pressure, no urgency. They were still light, still gentle, but ultimately worried. Fane kept his eyes covered. He knew Solas was concerned for him, but he wasn’t entirely ready to talk. All of the work that came with being Inquisitor was one thing, paperwork and nobles he could handle, albeit with exasperation, but the events at the Temple of Mythal…

…that was something he was still having a hard time accepting.

#wips #oc: fane lavellan #solas #dragon age #solavellan #m!solavellan #fane post!what pride had wrought is very melancholic #he kind of shifts back to how he was when his kin were first being enslaved #isolation. snapping at anyone who gets too close. forgoing sleep and food because his mind is so fixated on what happened.#solas doesn't want to see him return to that state again #and fane doesn't want to get there either. *sighs*#also! dragon!fane is such a confused little baby~ >:3 #just envision him EVERY TIME as appearing behind fane whenever he gets flustered as an elf X'D #my head is in dragon land~ dragon land~ *hums happily*#tagged

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reversecreek · 3 years

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MEET THE NPCS...

BOBBY YANG, “BIG BOB” .

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

thirty-four. implausibly tall. the day magda first saw a sketch of slenderman she thought of him. when her aunt shelly pulled up the dirt road to abernathy creek magda remembers seeing him through a dusty back window with his head bowed to avoid getting tree leaves in his eyes, joint between his lips, dungarees dirty and half unbuckled. one side of his hair is buzzed with no apparent style intention and he has a weed leaf tattooed behind his left ear. an elephant on his thigh. a name on his ankle he often wears a plaster over. once it soaked through and fell off in the creek and, newly glossy in the sun, nine year old magda reached to give it a blunt and shameless prod. big bob never explained who the name belonged to, he only reached to thumb at the minari growing by the water bed and talk about the fact it was a "versatile little sucker”.

2. if applicable, where and when did they meet your muse?

big bob introduced himself as such and magda raised her eyebrow in disbelief, the soul of a disgruntled pensioner in a seven yr old’s body. magda didn’t rly talk to anyone when she first arrived in her new home, verging on mute. she was angry at the move, angry that her dad hadn’t called her when she got there, angry that she didn’t know her mother’s voice to imagine it telling her everything was okay. the world made her so angry she didn’t want to acknowledge it. she sat outside in silence for a long time letting a ladybug crawl over her hand, and big bob didn’t ask anything of her, he only schlepped closer and presented her with a buttercup. she looked at it like it’d spat in her face but took it nonetheless. it was strange having an actual bed, if you could call a bare mattress that, used to sleeping on the sofa in shelly’s old trailer, and the springs nipped at her like a dog demanding treats, so she wandered outside in one of shelly’s big tie dye shirts like a nightdress, searching for the moon. big bob was standing out there already in the overgrown grass, stark naked, chin lifted to gawk at the moon himself. magda didn’t disturb him. this is when she first discovered his habit of naked sleepwalking. abernathy creek felt like a bird house overrun with all kinds of eccentric, squawking parakeets. it was a lot for a seven yr old to take in. this was a strange reality she’d never signed up for, swallowed by the commune to overheat inside it’s belly.

3. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

bob’s definitely a character. three times now he’s slipped hallucinogens into magda’s tea without her knowing under the impression that this is just harmless fun and he’s actually helping her by pushing her little boat to bob along the ocean of enlightenment, once at as young as 16. every time she realises he’s like “y’just got bobbeddddd!” and magda’s like here we go ig. told her the raw earth has healing properties to explain why he’d dug up the grass just to rub his hands in the soil and lay there like a panting, overheated dog. he’s an important component to abernathy creek and oversees a lot of the agriculture there. rigged up the irrigation system himself using copper pipes that magda suspects were stolen. the beat up camper van that’s usually parked up behind abernathy and hidden under leafy branches appeared when he did, apparently, although he insists it belongs to everyone. he leads the crusades to drive it up to the mountains and take a group of abernathy creek residents shroom picking. he’s in charge of drying them for selling, too. jack of all trades, really. magda claims not to care for him (or anyone) but she still walked out onto the grass, took his hand and lead him inside whenever she found him sleepwalking at night in her teens. once a group of kids were daring each other to get closer when he was out there and magda threw a stone so hard at one of their shin’s it split it open and made them scatter. but again, magda “does not care about him”. the jury is not convinced.

4. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

honestly everyone in irving probably thinks he’s a rly strange guy and i won’t fk around. he kind of is. wears many necklaces around his neck n one is just a pouch that has a prehistoric mosquito encased in a little piece of amber inside. sometimes magda wonders if he likes to play up to his reputation by putting it on a little bit. once she saw him suddenly jerking his head like a pecking chicken and saying “g’warn GET” to scare a random middle aged hiker into galloping in the opposite direction in the trees near abernathy. has a masterful knowledge of bird songs and can imitate them all impeccably. sometimes does this instead of replying with words. never cares about the holes in his shoes where his toes poke out. always seems to be turning a rusty coin between his fingers like it helps him think. he makes moonshine that will knock u off ur feet tho which is always a good time if ur lucky enough to try it. he has a very rich n warm voice like a log fire or a gooey chocolate brownie. even with all of his oddities he sounds kind. he’s very unconventional n doesn’t abide by rules of society a lot but he’s quite funny n a good time. makes engaging smalltalk if u treat him with respect. weird but admittedly a tiny bit wonderful.

OTIS WOLFE.

1. how old are they and what do they look like?

forty-six but he looks older. the skin beneath his eyes is subtly purpled like it’s been dyed by a lick of beetroot juice. he has a very charismatic walk which doesn’t sound like it makes sense but it does to look at him. he walks everywhere buoyantly and with purpose. very high energy in his good days. lives everything in large quantities, good and bad. always used to wear a tan leather bomber jacket when magda was growing up but he forgot it w her one visit n it’s the only time she’s known him to call up two days after leaving to ask if she’d seen it. magda lied and said she hadn’t. she still has it to this day. sleeps in it on her bad days. otis has a smile so big it shines like live wires are sparking in his mouth. magda’s fingertips prickle like she’s an hour recovering from shoving a fork into a plug socket whenever she sees it. she used to think that’s what excitement felt like. that used to be true.

2. what kind of a presence do they have in your muse’s life? do they have a positive or negative relationship?

it’s very complicated. magda knows her dad isn’t a good person but she knows he isn’t a bad person either. sometimes it’s more frustrating to see things in grey because you just want something solid to take shape that u can actually put ur finger on. she finds herself perpetually stood at a fork in the road between believing in him still and deciding he’s no good. sometimes she’ll start walking in one direction only to realise it loops back on itself and she’s right back where she started. otis has given her a lot of fun “adventures”. taught her how to juggle. they stayed in a hotel on someone else’s credit card once and racked up a gargantuan tab ordering every form of room service and renting godzilla and the matrix on pay per view when she was 11. sometimes he’d use her in gimmicks where she had to lie and pretend she had a health condition so they could get a few bucks off charitable strangers on a street corner and under the veil of youth magda found playing up these roles funny because who would ever believe that? wasn’t everyone in the world so stupid except them? it was nice being part of his team. his “little wolfie”. but then a lot of things weren’t nice either. he’s left her stranded on the side of the road with nowhere to go on more than one occasion. he’s passed out in motel corridors and she’s had to lug him into a bed. he’s forgotten almost every birthday apart from one where he sent a card with five dollars inside and handwriting so squiggly she could tell he was drunk when he wrote it. he doesn’t know she likes to sing because he’s only ever listened when he’s fallen asleep. otis is all of magda’s heart and that’s why sometimes she likes to forget that it’s beating.

3. are they revered in irving? do they have bad blood with anyone?

he’s very flighty n rarely in irving any more tbh but was more when magda was younger n his visits were a little less sporadic. probably owes a bunch of people money for some reason or another. smashed up fannie’s recently when he turned up drunk and got ahead of himself on a giddy n frenzied rampage in the name of “fun” n “just having a laugh”. magda’s aunt shelly really doesn’t get on with her brother n thinks he’s a complete deadbeat waste of space n resents him a lot for the impact he’s had on magda. magda remembers being little and peeking through a crack in shelly’s trailer door when he turned up drunk one time to collect her for a visit n shelly wouldn’t let him in. something along the lines of “you don’t give a rat’s ass about that little girl” and “she worships you, y’know that? most of the time, you don’t even remember her name”. magda crept back onto the sofa and pretended to be asleep by the time she came inside.

4. if your muse is no longer in contact with them, how did the relationship end? did your muse get closure over this?

magda slowly stopped trying to keep in contact over the years. it got embarrassing trying so hard when she didn’t get much back. like pushing a boulder all the way up a hill only to watch it roll back down again. it’s probably contributed a lot towards magda’s inability to really try with people like she should, especially when her heart’s involved. she doesn’t want to be humiliated again. magda hasn’t spoken to her dad in person in almost a year. they had a phone call about seven months back but it turned out to be a butt dial and he hung up because he was in the middle of a conversation at some bar about the moon landing conspiracy. magda’s playlist that i have for her is called “a rodeo clown in a revolving door” which is basically the role otis serves in magda’s life. always in and out. never constant. gone more than he’s there, especially lately. idk if magda will ever get closure over that. she certainly hasn’t now. pouts my fuckable lips to the side w a hand on hip and triple f’s prominent.

#irvingtask002 #magda | muse #drugs tw #alcoholism tw #i said i was gna do hunter too but i simply just dnt have the energy i wont lie. so big bob n otis are all i have to present...... holds ban #omg. bang.#mayb i do more editions of this task for magda in future bc #i have hunter n shelly tht i wna write up....

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folderolsfollies · 4 years

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title: Three Can Keep A Secret (If Two Of Them Are Dead) pairing: Sangyao summary: I just wanted to let my stupid murder twinks have a nice day and plan a fake-date. (discussion of sexual assault - if you want to skip it go from the paragraph ““You’ve been talking to Xiao Xingchen,” to “Nie Huaisang thankfully gets the hint”)

Meng Yao has had enough.

Hasn’t he worked harder than anyone he knows, learnt enough to be the equal of spoiled children who could spend their children at tutoring programs and not second jobs, hadn’t he lied and schemed and shoveled shit so that his father, his biological father, would even deign to look his way? After all that, is he not owed - everything, really - but at the very least something? And if he can’t get his reward, can he not at least get his revenge?

He calls his oldest friend, and lets it ring all the way through as it goes to voicemail. When he calls again. Nie Huaisang picks up on the second ring.

“Sorry Yao-ge, figured if it wasn’t important you’d leave a voicemail and if it was important you’d just call again,” Nie Huaisang explains, with the edge of a laugh trilling his voice, not sorry at all. “So tell me, why have you made me suffer through an actual phone call instead of texting me like a civilized human being who’s joined the 21st century?”

“I want to bring my father down,” Meng Yao says, and then hastily snaps his mouth shut. There’s something about Nie Huaisang which makes him speak too hastily, allow too much of his real emotions, real anger out. The wild shriek of laughter Nie Huaisang is emitting right now isn’t helping with that.

“Hell yeah, love a scheme,” says Nie Huaisang comfortably, and from the muffled thud it sounds like he’s settling in.

“Nie Huaisang, are you putting your feet on the table?” Meng Yao says. Meng Yao is not a mom friend. Lan Xichen is a mom friend. Meng Yao is cool. And, if he is continuing to indulge in wild hypotheticals, Nie Huasiang is a jock.

“So mean to your rescuer, Yao-ge! Do you want my help or not?” Nie Huaisang says.

“I could ask Xichen instead,” says Meng Yao, annoyed, and winces. He’s definitely off his game.

“Lan Xichen will tell you to hug it out,” Nie Huaisang points out, “that’s why you didn’t call him, you called me: your meanest friend. Now tell didi what happened.”

Meng Yao opens his mouth. Then he closes it. Nie Huaisang is the last person on the planet that would judge him for familial related hysterics. But he’s not quite at the point where he can untangle the web of hatred and obligation and trampled love that he feels whenever his father is around and present it for public consumption. He’s not even at the point where he thinks he can try. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” he says, and if his voice is low, at least it doesn’t shake.

“Sure, whatever. I’m assuming that you already have a plan in place?” Nie Huaisang instantly says, cheerily.

“You’re just agreeing to this?” Meng Yao says, shaking his head. “People will take advantage of that, you know,” he says, and the words come out with the solicitous edge that he always feels compelled to adopt with Nie Huaisang. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that Nie Huaisang will say, “But it’s not people, it’s you”, and then Meng Yao will say --

“I mean maybe I’d say something if it were Zixuan you were targeting, maybe, but Jin Guangshan? You don’t need to sell me on a revenge plan against him, Yao-ge,” Nie Huaisang says breezily, like it’s that easy. And maybe to him, it is. “Also I’m agreeing to hear you out, not to get involved in anything, by the way, you’ll need to bribe me for that.”

“I already bribe you,” Meng Yao points out, and smiles reflexively, as if it could soften the words over the phone.

“That’s great, then! You already know what works on me!” Nie Huaisang says.

Meng Yao sighs, but he’s smiling, and it's a real one this time. “He’s having a charity gala in a few weeks, and I’m going to be there, as an organizer. I’m allowed a plus one.” He knows this for certain, because he wrote the invitation code.

“Yao-ge, are you going to bring someone shocking?” Nie Huaisang says, all conspiratorial glee and instant understanding.

“Yes,” says Meng Yao, swallowing, trying not to think about what led him here after he worked so hard to gain his father’s favor, or about the way Nie Huaisang’s voice dipped low on his name.

“So you want someone male, to activate his old-man homophobia, and frivolous enough that he can’t even say this is some sort of business strategy. I’ve got a couple of candidates,” Nie Huaisang muses, and Meng Yao can hear his smile through the phone. “How about, oh, Wei Wuxian? He’s always my personal choice when I need a chaos agent.”

“Lan Wangji would kill me,” Meng Yao replies automatically. If he halted that slow-moving daytime soap opera any more, he thinks Lan Wangji would just be the first in a very long line. He briefly mulls over the merits of seducing Wei Wuxian just to stop having to look at their insufferable pining gazes. “Huaisang…”

“Well, how about Xiao Xingchen, then? He’d be nice enough to agree, he’d probably think he was taking a principled stand against bigotry,” Nie Huaisang says, in his best butter-won’t-melt voice.

Here’s the thing. Meng Yao knows exactly what Nie Huaisang is doing right now. And still he finds himself saying “Huaisang… I don’t want Xiao Xingchen,” because then Nie Huaisang will laugh and say -

“Oh, you want me, gege? Now what will I get for that?”

A small part of Meng Yao, still, after everything he knows about Nie Huaisang, wants to say “Anything.” And in truth, there is little that he would not give to Nie Huaisang. Meng Yao sometimes feels like it’s Nie Huaisang’s knowledge of this fact that is the only reason that Meng Yao still gets to set the terms.

“First of all: exposure.” Meng Yao says crisply, relaxing into details. “It will be well attended. Madame Yu will be there, and you can get an introduction that doesn’t need to go through her children.”

“And?” Nie Huaisang says.

“It’s minimal work. We go in, get photographed, and get out. We really just need to be seen for this to work.” Meng Yao lists off.

“And?” Nie Huaisang says, and he’s definitely fucking with Meng Yao now, but what he doesn’t know is that Meng Yao also has an ace up his sleeve.

Meng Yao pauses for full dramatic effect and then pulls out his trump card. “And it’s a masquerade.”

“Meng Yao,” whoops Nie Huaisang, delighted as a child, “why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I led with the opportunity to inflict social repercussions on a known missing stair in the community,” Meng Yao says virtuously, “at great cost to my own career in the company.”

“You’ve been talking to Xiao Xingchen,” Nie Huaisang snorts, and maybe that easy understanding that sometimes bodies need to get buried is why Meng Yao only wants one person on his arm for this. “If you really wanted to expose him properly, there has got to be a woman willing to go on record against him.”

Meng Yao feels three bright stabs of pain in his palm, and realizes that he’s clenched his fist hard enough for the nails to bite in. He relaxes every individual finger. “That won’t work,” he says, calmly. Always calmly. “He’ll get a slap in the wrist and those women’s lives will be ruined for nothing.” And so will his, he thinks.

Nie Huaisang thankfully gets the hint and changes the subject. “Whereas this way, you get a cozy, sympathetic interview in GLAD magazine about how some people can’t keep up with the times, and some exposure that you can use with more liberal companies. Bold move, A-Yao!”

Meng Yao really can’t help himself. “I think Lan Wangji would agree.” Lan Xichen won’t stick his neck out for Meng Yao against the Jins, but Lan Wangji’s sense of virtue can be played like a fiddle. And as Lan Wangji goes, so goes the nation, apparently. Meng Yao thinks he can play this just fine.

Nie Huaisang is laughing approvingly. “You’re my favorite, Yao-ge,” he says, because, Meng Yao reminds himself, he’s a flighty child who says that to anyone who made him happy for more than five seconds, and Meng Yao is just stupid enough to still want it.

“So I’m going for provocative but in a way that appeals to subscribers to the New Yorker,” Nie Huaisang muses. “I’m very good at being a good-for-nothing piece of arm candy, you called the right guy.”

“That’s not true, Nie Huaisang, you know that,” Meng Yao says, because Nie Huaisang’s inexplicable urge to constantly downplay his own intelligence is one of the most baffling things about him.

Nie Huaisang just hums and doesn’t answer. “Well, I’m in, if I have the time,” and then he adds, because he’s still Nie Huaisang, “and maybe you’ll owe me a favor!”

Meng Yao lets himself think for a beat about Nie Huaisang owing him that sort of favor - flushed cheeks, tangled hair - and then sighs mildly. “I suppose.”

“I’m going to take advantage of that,” Nie Huaisang says, and the phone clicks off.

#the untamed #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #oh I should have a fic tag #my fic

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alchemic-elric · 4 years

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|| Guys my mind is fucking everywhere tonight so just bear with me. There’s been so much shit I’ve wanted to do but my focus is horrendous. One of those things was that

||| “what do you want to tell me before 2020 thing.”

But let’s be real here. There are so many of you I think I’d hit my ask limit or to be completely honestly, my flighty ass would lose track of who I sent shit to and what it said - so it’s all right here in one neat place easy for you to see and me to make sure I hit everyone.

and even if you DIDN’T reblog that meme well too bad, you might be here.

It’s gunna be very long, sappy, emotional, brutally honest - there are a lot of you - bear with me.

@angcrmanagcmcnt - I love you. I think of you as my little sister in Northern Canada who gets all my midwestern weirdness. I didn’t know how we were gunna click when I first saw your blog but I was like “fuck it could be fun” and now I’m here and I care about you a lot and I consider you one of my good good friends. You’ve dealt with a lot from both me and my son and I can’t thank you enough for that. Thank you for writing with me. Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for plotting. You’re one of the few people here in our tumblr community who’s heard my voice. Thank you for taking a chance on me. I care about you.

@eveningmuses - Eve, you’re wonderful. You’re such a talented writer and I love the way you handle your muses and so many. I felt for you when tumblr murdered your blog. I love talking with you and plotting with you. I’m blessed and honored to have you as one of my friends. Thank you for getting to know me this year.

@avarice-inclined - Emmett - oh Emmett - your Greed came to my boy in a time of need and they bonded over a panic attack just like Ly’ did. Even if Ed doesn’t completely believe he cares about him (Ed has difficulty with that and anyone though) It’s been such a pleasure to get to know you. It’s been such a pleasure to plot things out with you in canon and modern. It’s been such a joy to bring Rhys into modern. I adore what you’ve done with him. Also you and the art presents. You’ve given me so many art presents. I can’t thank you enough for that. I love your art. It’s so cute and all your own.

@dolcetters - Red, it’s been a rough go of it with our boys and for a while there I didn’t know if they would ever get to being in the same room status, let alone talking status - let alone last name status. It’s still a name and I’ll take it. It’s been a rough go of it for them and I will not excuse Ed’s actions over the course of the year. He’s been an absolute jackass to your boy. There’s really no way around that. I’m so excited that they’ve come as far as they have though - and you too though. We bonded over birbs and I’m still excited about that. I’m glad we just chat about birds and whatever. I love seeing your art and I have your comic bookmarked <3 Thank you for all your encouraging words this year and being my friend.

@regnantlight - CC, I know you have a lot going on - CONGRATS on the engagement! Thank you for all your kind and encouraging words this year. You breathe life into Zelda in a special way that’s all you. Seeing her interact with other muses on the dash as well as my own is an absolute treat. Every time she comes up on the screen when I play HW I think of you.

@creepiitus - Jay, you’re wonderful never change. Your art is always a treat on the dash and your muse is an absolute wonder. We all know he’s a trash man with some issues but we all love him so much. He’s so perfectly Kimblee but he’s so perfectly yours. But in a different way from Dol, but much like Dol - these two had a rough start (at least on Ed’s end). Even if they’re getting along or they’re not I love writing with you. I love reading your writing and your headcanons. You roach man is so in depth and I adore that. Thank you for talking with me this year and being my friend. I appreciate all your roach man guidance in the way of angsty ass AUs too. When it comes to Kimblee I will always defer to you.

@deathleads - Cosmos, I think I will always been in awe of Chrissy in one way or another. She’s such an amazingly lovingly crafted OC and I have just decided she’s canon anyway. I have said it more than once and I will keep saying it. Your art just blows my damn mind and I love it. I see it always improving and it’s always fantastic. You are talented in so many areas I can’t begin. You’re a wonderful person. Thank you for your kind words this year and being my friend. <3

@cromwellharvests - Bird, you mean a lot to me. We’ve dealt with some stuff but we got through it all and I appreciate you always being there to talk through things for your second opinion. I hope things go well for. I care about you and I’m always here for you if you ever need an ear to listen. And your wife! Emily Cromwell is still a gift to dash and she will always persist to be. Pure Canon 100%. You’re soooooooo talented. You made your own character and then brought her to life and made her human. Also all your graphics and theming and just everything is always so pretty <3 <3 My eyes are always excited to see the things you make.

@deammortale - Rose, every muse you write is so good. Your OCs, your canons. They are all so wonderful. I adore your graphics, your writing, all the things you do. RPing you is both an honor and a pleasure. Your Winry is the one that comes to kind when Ed thinks of her. His Mom(s) and his best friend. I also love just chatting with you and seeing messages on dis//cord warning of “i’m gunna sue you for this pain.” make me laugh and make my days go a little better when I see them before work.

@mangataonegdaj - Newt, my 03 buddy. You’re in that super talented bunch too with all the amazing graphic work and your writing is like poetry - my god - your writing. Your writing it’s self is a painting all on it’s own. Like fuck. How do you do it? Your writing just blows my damn mind. And your girl is so wonderful. I know we have a lot of great OCs in the community but it doesn’t take away the testament to each one of their creator’s ability. Feli is just a damn treasure. But so are you. You finished your Master’s this year?! Like holy shit. that’s amazing! Throw a party! Celebrate! Brag it up!!! That’s AWESOME!!! GO YOU FRIEND! That deserves to be bragged about! How amazing you are! Thank you for being my friend and for Feli being such a good friend to my son.

@thegoldensage - Jester, you’re only getting tagged here because Hoho has had the most interaction with my son and when I think of you I think of “Dad” first. Ed loves Hohenheim so much but their relationship is so very (understandably) awkward. I hope things are improving for you. Please do not stress and worry about the time. I told you I would always be here and I meant that. Please deal with what you need. I adore our thread(s). I love your other muses too. Having a Heinkel to interact with is so exciting to me. I’m so glad you popped up in the community this year. I got so excited. I hope for good things for you friend.

@wyrdify - Kai don’t think you got away from me. Kai loving hours are back. (They’re always on but now it’s time to be public) Your Mustang has become so engrained into my Ed’s muse. They’ve grown so much together and we have so many threads and I love them all. I think the only other people I’ve done that with has been Ling and Alphonse. I love exploring these two with you. I love reading your headcanons. I love seeing all the love you crank into your muses. But also your kitties. I love hearing about them. I just love how we just clicked. It’s wonderful. I consider you one of my good good friends. I feel like I’ve known your forever and it’s been like half the year? That’s crazy. You’re so easy to talk to and I feel like you just accepted me instantly. You’ve been nothing but kind to me this year and I can’t thank you enough for that. You also deal with me talking constantly and I just appreciate you. I just want you to know that. You mean a lot to me.

@lady-quen - Aren’t you the pitch hitter this year? We’ve hardly RPed (a little with kumo) and I still haven’t written you shit but we talk a lot and your art makes me smile. I got so excited when you followed me because someone else who knows FFU???? You know the problem with that DEAD DEAD fandom. You’re always coming to check up on me and chit chat and I appreciate you. Your kindness means a lot to me. Thank you for that. Also your art is just top notch and animations too! You’re so friggin’ talented!!

@fiuehrer - Lumie I don’t know when you’re going to see this but you will eventually and that’s all that matters to me. So let’s start with CONGRATS on the new job! You’ve come so far and done so much and this year kicked your ass but you beat it right back and fought and you won and I’m so PROUD OF YOU. Queen you are KILLIN’ it. I love you. I love you so much and I wish all the best things for you. Now, Papa. You know I adore your Mustang and I can ramble about him for hours because you go so intense with it and you know I love that. And you’re over there with all these amazing graphics and writing and just ugh A+ right here.

@citrinexdreams - Kay when was the last time you even logged in? Lol. Things have been so busy for you. That’s okay though, I’m always lingering around you know that’s how I am. I’ve already told you many times over that I love and care for you. Thank you for being my friend and being there for me this year. It’s been rough all around. But also look at this WORLD we’ve created. Modern was this tiny little thing at the beginning of the year and then the kidnapping Arc started in January and holy hell look at it now. A living breathing beast all it’s own. Look at this WORLD we’ve breathed life into. It’s amazing and I think about it all the time. I love creating with you because it’s always both challenging and rewarding. I feel like your writing brings out some of the best in mind because I have a need to make them mess in their own ways. I adore writing with you but also reading what you write. We’ve written so much this year it’s crazy.

@valiant-noble-soul - YOU. Little Bro. Yes you. I’m proud of you. Taryn, I love you. I legit think of you as my sibling who doesn’t live me with. As I said to some friends just yesterday - “Seeing Taryn have the time to write with anyone just makes my heart sing.” I just love seeing you on the dash be it with Al or Al - haha you know what I mean. I love them both for differing reason (if they’re gunna kill each other) But I mean this when I say it. I would be lost without you. You’re always somehow magically there when I’m sad or upset and I almost never have to tell you. It’s like some force in the universe does it for me. (you know what it is) I’m sorry for the scares this year. I’m still sorry about that. I wish all the good things I can on you. Still you’ve done so much this year and I’m so proud of you. I’m so so so proud of you. I beam when I get to talk about you. My sibling forever. The younger sibling I never had but always wanted. You’re always so sweet and kind to me. I can’t say thank you enough (even though, yes I know I don’t have to.) I love you. I’m gunna keep saying it. I’ll always be here for you, Taryn.

Mun’s final thoughts.

Please note that if you’re not on here, I’m a flighty jackass who loses track of things. So please know I love every single person who writes with me. I love all the kind words you give me and they are very special to me. I’m a shy anxious person - not that I advertise this shit. I appreciate people taking the time to speak with me in or out of character and I love how much love my son receives. I spend a lot of time questioning myself and my muse. I won’t lie you about it. I get very nervous and anxious often but I try to cover it up and ignore it.

Roleplay is generally how I cope and you all have been so so so kind when dealing with the previous passing of my father and the passing of my grandmother just this year. You’ve all been absolute blessings and it’s helped me push through this year and survive everything life’s thrown my way.

My mental health has been pretty terrible and some of you know that better than others. Some of you have dealt with me in extreme lows and I try to hide my bipolar disorder from the dash. However it is difficult somedays and I apologize for that.

Thank you for investing time into me this year and getting to know me. Thank you for following my blog and going on adventures with my son. This blog is 21 days short of being 2 years old, and I am thankful for every single one of them.

I love you guys,

Kira

#ooc #mun speaks #// positive things #// 2020 end thoughts

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tatturmemes · 3 years

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SPEECH MAGIC ANONS!

I think part of being a writer is to accept a challenge, so why not practicing different types of speech!!

Anon Decides Length of Time: "_____." is the length of time, you fill it in. If no time frame is given, Mun decides the time frame. Remember, these are meant to be a writing challenge! So take them!

Here's the list:

Mute: My muse cannot speak at all for _____.

Stutter: My muse has a stutter for _____.

Him/Her: My muse can only refer to themselves in the third person for _____.

You too: My muse can only refer to those they speak directly to in the third person (Instead of saying "Do you like..." it would come out "Does [muse's name] like...") for _____.

All Threes: My muse can only speak in third person about everyone and everything, including themselves and those they speak directly to for _____.

Pronouns: My muse cannot mention pronouns (I, my, his, her, she, you, they, etc.) in their speech for _____.

Ye Olde: My muse can only speak in what they think Old English sounds like for _____.

Question Mark: My muse can only speak in questions for ____.

Identity Crisis: My muse refers to everyone as their own name rather than the muse's name for _____.

Exclamation Mark: My muse will speak as if they are extremely excited about everything, even when they are not, for _____.

Accent Mark: My muse speaks in an _____ (anon decides; if none provided, then mun must completely invent a fictitious one) accent for _____.

Shy: My muse speaks very quietly, the only way you can hear them is if they speak directly into your ear for _____.

Repetition: My muse repeats themselves unnecessarily for _____.

Drunk: My muse slurs their words like they're extremely drunk however the muse completely sober for _____.

Limitation: My muse can only speak up to 7 words at a time for _____. (Think of the speech pattern, Alogia.)

Past: My muse can only speak in the past tense even if speaking about something that occurred in the present or something to occur in the future for _____.

Present: My muse can only speak in the future tense even if speaking about something that occurred in the past or something to occur in the future for _____.

Future: My muse can only speak in the future tense even if speaking about something that occurred in the past or present for _____.

Hilarious: My muse starts laughing uncontrollably when they start speaking, regardless of their true emotions, for _____.

A metaphor of a Simile: My muse can only speak in similes ("like" or "as") or in metaphors regarding whatever it is they're speaking about for _____.

Reminisce: My muse will share a memory whenever they speak to someone else as though they have no filter to keep it to themselves for _____.

Wisdom: My muse will use sayings, quotes, phrases, proverbs, and fortunes (like the ones found in fortune cookies) to express themselves for _____.

Education: My muse will speak dumb if they are smart or intelligent if they're dumb and if they are average, mun decides whether they speak smart of stupid for _____.

-Verted: My muse will act introverted if they are an extrovert or extroverted if they are an introvert for _____.

Expressive: My muse's facial expressions will be the exact opposite of what they speak (if they're speaking of a sad topic, they'll look over-joyed, etc.) for _____.

Wishy-Washy: My muse will speak as though they are very uncertain of what it is they're talking about, about everything they discuss for _____. (Can be like Evasive interaction, like "I... er ah... you are uh... I think you have... uh--acceptable erm... uh... hair.")

Narrator: My muse will speak as if they're the narrator of their own thoughts, words, and actions for _____.

Contraction: My muse speaks in an excessive amount of contractions (don't, shouldn't, doesn't, could've, etc.), even archaic ones, for _____.

Spitter: My muse spits at the end of every sentence they speak for _____.

Interruption: My muse will frequently stop the train of thought they had mid-way and change subjects abruptly for _____.

Broken Record: My muse will mimic the vocalizations and movements of those they interact with for _____. (Think of Echolalia. This may involve repeating only the last few words or last word of the examiner's sentences. or can be like "What would you like for dinner?", "That's a good question. That's a good question. That's a good question.")

Flighty: my muse will speak excessively fast and will often fragment their sentences or include unrelated concepts or ideas in conversation for _____. (Think of 'flight of ideas,' which is seen in mania, schizophrenia, and ADHD.)

Telegrath: My muse will not use speech conjunctions (and, but, or) or articles of speech (a/an, the, etc.) with the meaning of their words will still be retained) in their speech for _____.

Illogical: My muse will make illogical conclusions (ex: "Do you think this will fit in the box?" draws a reply like "Well duh; it's brown, isn't it?") for _____.

Incoherent: My muse's speech will become completely incoherent (ex: the question "Why do people comb their hair?" elicits a response like "Because it makes a twirl in life, my box is broken help me blue elephant. Isn't lettuce brave? I like electrons, hello please!") for _____.

Inventive: My muse will invent new words for things, (ex: "I got so angry I picked up a dish and threw it at the geshinker.") for _____. (Think Neologisms)

Fluffy: My muse will speak words or phrases that are flowery, excessive, and pompous (ex: "The attorney comported himself indecorously.") for _____.

(Feel free to add something but please do not delete anything.)

#magic anon #meme #ask box games #ask box meme

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pctrichvrs · 4 years

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* emma mackey, cis woman + she/her | you know celeste laurent, right? they’re twenty four, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, seven years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to cry baby by the neighbourhood like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole watching the phone ring to avoid picking up, unintentionally locking eyes from across the room and dark circles further accented by pale skin thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 9th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

mun.

wow ..,. hello ! i’m jay ( she&her ) and i’ve been eyeing this group for days .. *nicki minaj vc* i’m obsessed . celeste is my only muse but give me 2 business days and i’m sure that’ll be vastly different . i feel like i should give the disclaimer that although i adore plotting, i’m super slow with messages so feel free to just ..,. let my oddball child interact and go with the flow . < 3

quick stats.

full name: celeste rosalie laurent.

sexuality: bisexual.

occupation: youtuber/podcaster.

neighborhood: lives in port apartments.

mbti personality: intj.

about.

celeste was born and raised in lyon, france . her mother was an art curator and her father was an architect. they passed along their desire to be surrounded by pretty things which resulted in celeste dabbling in nearly every art form imaginable from a young age .

sure, some of her work turned out better than others but it was clear that she had a real knack for anything that didn’t really require the left side of her brain. if it involved creativity and didn’t have much structure, she was drawn to it and excelled. she was fourteen when she ended up making her first short film. sixteen when she earned a spot at cannes film festival, sparking quite a bit of buzz and earning funding to a school of her choosing .

celeste knew she wanted to go to america and it helped that she had a few cousins in north carolina . she went to UNC school of the arts for two semesters before throwing her scholarship away . . . her distaste for structure getting in the way . she’s also pretty fickle so when that chapter closed, she decided to give up short films and put her energy into youtube .

her channel was an absolute clusterf*ck at first but she made a ridiculous conspiracy theory video and it just kind of stuck. i’d consider most of her channel to be similar to buzzfeed unsolved ( conspiracies, ghosts, etc ) with like a sprinkle of ridiculous challenge videos and maybe the occasional cooking/painting video ?? if you’re her friend, you’ve probably made a cameo in a video at some point .

if it wasn’t obvious enough, celeste’s biggest flaws are her need for freedom and her fickle tendencies which affects nearly everything in her life . everything is very sporadic for her with very little consistency . she’ll go weeks without working on anything and then have a deadline and have to finish it in 2 days . romantic relationships are very hard for her because by the time you’ve gotten comfortable with her, she’s probably moved on a bit . friendships are admittedly a bit easier but she’s definitely not a friend you’d expect to be present a lot ?? phone is always on do not disturb and she takes hours to text back . if you want her, you’d probably have better luck just showing up on her doorstep .

kind of spacey too like even if you show up, good luck getting her undivided attention . she’ll be there physically but mentally ?? who knows, really . the type to occasionally cut you off mid-convo with a question that just popped into her head that’s unrelated to the original topic .

overall though, not too hard to get along with if you give her some room to breathe and have some patience . celeste despises confrontation and does her best to stay pretty lowkey . i feel like she’s kind of drawn to people that stand out and are unique in one way or another and LOVES to hear people tell their story or talk about themselves . she hates being the center of attention ( she used to love it when she was making films ) and is nearly a bit reclusive at times but doesn’t even realized she’s been tucked away in her apartment until someone points it out .

basically the human embodiment of Gifted Kid Burn Out(TM) . #relatable

tldr ; a youtuber ( think buzzfeed unsolved ) originally from france who was once incredibly gifted in film . flighty, fickle and spacey but has a genuine curiosity for everyone she meets .

headcanons.

still has a french accent but it’s not nearly as prominent as it was when she first moved to the states .

has a super odd sleep schedule ? sometimes she’s pulling all nighters and sometimes she’s in bed by 9pm. it usually depends on the amount of work she has to do but sometimes she’s just like fuck it, let me binge this show or start this book at midnight .

a “look at the sky!” ass bitch ..,. loves to stargazing or take a minute to appreciate a pretty sunset. yes, she will be pulling out her phone to document it .

her youtube is pretty successful with about 400k subs ..,. although she’s started branching out into making podcasts and neglecting youtube a bit .

still a bit of an aesthete ? like very drawn to pretty things/people which may make her seem kind of superficial but she literally just has such a deep appreciation for things that are appealing to the senses .

i’ll add more later but it’s 1am and i’m getting sleepy .

wanted connections.

roommates ; arguably some of my fave plots are roommate plots ! bonus points if they don’t get along for some reason but anything is fine with me .

will they/wont they ; another dynamic that i’m a sucker for ! doesn’t have to lead anywhere like maybe they just have ridiculous chemistry when they’re around each other ? maybe they’ll go on a date and try it out at some point ?

long-term friend(s) ; someone who she’s been friends with since she was 17 ? i don’t think celeste’s social circle is very big so they probably mean a lot to her .. ride or dies .. best friends .. platonic soulmate vibes . yes pls .

exes ; i don’t think she’d have many but maybe one or two ? could be on good terms, bad terms, one/both of them still aren’t over it ..,. the options are endless .

Parent Friend(TM) ; someone who checks in on her to make sure she’s eaten a proper meal and has slept fairly recently would be super cute, i think ! she’s the type to drink iced coffee at noon and be like : ) thank u . i’m stuffed and then neglect doing self care .

i do not have a cute name for this but basically the exact opposite of the parent friend(TM) and someone who makes celeste go out and have fun bc she’s a tad reclusive ...,. drags her to parties / on roadtrips / other spontaneous shit .

enemies / frenemies / former friends ; always fun . always a good time !

literally anything like u can send me a musing post and be like ‘do this with me’ and i will probably do it

#irvingintro #literally the tiktok audio that's like 'now that we're done with that . do u wanna see my renegade ?'#*smiley w sunglasses emoji*#okay it's nearly 4am . i am about to sleep but . i'm letting myself celebrate finishing this . as a treat .

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liliaeth · 4 years

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Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favourite authors!

Well the one pattern I can see is that I have way too many wips, damn my flighty muse

I’m tagging anyone willing to do this one

1. The Weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh (Nicolò di Genova/Yusuf al Kaysani, The Old Guard

Yusuf wasn’t even sure what he was doing, taking the invader with him. He should have left the man behind after the Franks took the city, but when he’d seen the look on the Christian’s face, that thousand mile stare in the other’s eyes, he’d been unable to do so. There had been a plea in the way he knelt there, not even reaching for a weapon, though he and Yusuf had killed each other dozens of times by now. Almost as if he wanted Yusuf to kill him. That might have been why he stayed his blade at first, that notion that he couldn’t give the other what he wanted, not after what the Franks had done. But then he’d seen the man’s eyes and he hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling pity for him.

2. The Body Remembers (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf

He had flinched.

3. We come from Warriors (gen fic, with some Nicky/Joe , The Old Guard)

Solomon hesitated as he reached the door. He didn't want to go in. Not now, not when Mom would have prettied up the room, trying to achieve holiday cheer, desperate to pretend things were normal, that there wasn't another empty chair at the table. He was about ready to just turn around, to take his gifts back to the car and leave, go to a bar, and drink soda after soda, until he got on too much of a high and had to head out in his car, driving till the carbohydrate high was out of his system.

4.Artefacts of history (Nicky/Joe, Andy/Quynh, Nile, The Old Guard)

His first thought was ‘another one’.

5. Sinking Down (Gen, Andy and Booker, The Old Guard)

Booker wasn’t even sure why he was in this damn room, with these people, none of whom had a clue who he was, or what he’d done. They all had their issues of course, and he wasn’t stupid enough to assume that anything he went through was worse than what they went through.

6. Tomatoes, lettuce and a burger (Gen, Dean and Sam Winchester, Supernatural)

Dean wasn’t sure what it was that made it feel like his heart was torn to pieces. Sam was sitting right there, mere inches away from him. Reading, writing, Dean wasn’t sure what his brother was doing as Dean himself was cooking.

7. A Soldier goes marching on (gen, Nile Freeman, and Jay, The Old Guard)

Jay stared at he empty bunk. Dizzy wouldn’t even look at her. Jay would have screamed at her, but she knew it wasn’t fair, since her anger was aimed as much at herself as it was at Dizzy. And neither would do any good.

8. New Wolf in the Old Guard (Teen Wolf/The Old Guard crossover, Scott centric)

Scott woke up gasping for air. It was the third time this week that he had the dream of drowning. The other dreams were weird, and scary, but he’d have any of them over the ones where he drowned.

9. Good Little Milker (Dean Winchester, Supernatural a/b/o au)

Dean was still sulking. Sam could see it in the poor Omega cow's eyes, the way he glared at the both of them, when he thought Sam or Dad weren't looking. Oh sure, he was playing nice after the rough spanking Dad had given him. Dad had had no choice after Dean's initial tantrum when John had mentioned what was going to happen. It hadn't really been a surprise to anyone but Dean himself, when Sam's younger brother had presented as an Omega. Even during the first signs of his first heat, the boy had still been hoping to present at least as a beta if not an Alpha. But both Sam and John had known better. Dean was a brat, but he'd always been at his happiest when Dad or Sam told him what to do.

10. Clean (JDM/Jensen Ackles, spn rps, non-con)

Jeff couldn't believe his luck. The notion that this perfect piece of slave flesh had never once been fucked was probably the biggest waste of a slave's body he'd ever seen in his life.

11. Light in the Basement (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, non-con)

Jensen wasn't even sure what had happened as he slowly woke up face down on a dusty floor. He stared up at the room he was in. It was dark, stuffy, like there was something in his throat making it hard to breathe. There was a pervading smell of shit and mold hanging around the place, like he was in a badly cleaned toilet in one of the factories he'd been working at over the past few months. He crawled up into the dark

12. The Treaty (Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, spn rps, a/b/o, dub-con)

Peace. After ten years of war, it was long awaited, and even from the throne room, Jared could hear the celebrations spreading across the capitol city. Jared wished he could join the people, spend time with his loved ones and hold his mother, but all he could think of was his father's face as he'd died in Jared's arms.

13. the Wolf who Ran with Hunters (gen Teen Wolf/Supernatural, Scott-centric)

Scott shivered as he woke up. He didn’t want to open his eyes, because once he did, he’d have to accept that he was all alone in some crappy motel room. Outside the window, he could see the dusty town in Oklahoma which he didn’t even know the name of.

14. Covered in Bandaids (Scott McCall/Isaac Lahey, Teen Wolf)

Isaac wasn’t quite sure what he was doing at the field. He shouldn’t even care about lacrosse any more. He was strong now, and lacrosse had been something he’d done because his father wanted him to be more like Camden.

15. Breaking Point (Scott McCall/Theo Raeken, Teen Wolf)

The place was cold. Even with the increased body heat of a werewolf Scott shivered in the corner of the cell. He wished he’d been wearing more than a tank top and his jeans when the cops had burst into his room. They hadn’t told him what he was being arrested for, or what they wanted, which as far as he knew, was not the norm.

16. Kindness for the Devil (Lucifer Morningstar/Scott McCall, Lucifer/Teen Wolf)

It was a night like any other. Things were a bit too quiet over at Lux, but then it was early, and it seemed to make Linda happy, making her more likely to stay instead of having her take Charlie and leaving.

17.Can’t Always hold him back (Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale, Teen Wolf)

Scott looked down at Stiles, carefully listening to his friend’s heartbeat, pushing out the distraction of outside noise. Nurses and visitors talking in the hall outside, the beeping of the machine monitoring Stiles. He desperately tried to follow the pattern. It scared him, how hard his friend’s heart was working just to keep going, how difficult Stiles’ breathing went even with the oxygen mask covering his mouth and nose. Scott had finally managed to get the sheriff to go downstairs to have something to eat, maybe even take a shower if Mom could slip him into the staff showers. They all knew that their stay here could end up being a marathon that might last days more than it already had.

18. Beloved (Btvs/Angel, co written with @spikesheart)

Sitting at one end of a fully laden table, Buffy looked at the appetizers piled on the finest bone china sitting atop platinum charger plates, studied her matching platinum silverware, and wrangled with the finely woven silver linen napkin in her lap – patently avoiding her lover’s gaze as he sat at the other end. Only the best of everything life had to offer was laid out before her. A wide variety of catered pasta, meat and vegetable dishes filled every square inch of space in between them, yet nothing caught her fancy.

19. Parent Wolf (Teen Wolf, the parents)

She woke up in an endless white room, found her head leaning against the bark of an old tree trunk, staring up and noticing several other men and women waking up alongside her.

20. Missed Shot (gen, teen wolf, Scott-centric)

Scott stared up at the men coming closer and at the man who had just shot him with an arrow. Derek Hale, the creepy guy who’d lured him here in the first place, tried to grab him and pull him loose, but seconds later he was down on the ground as well with arrows in his leg and back. Scott stared around in fear, pulling at the arrow, too scared to think of breaking it free.

#Teen Wolf #the old guard #supernatural #supernatural rps #fanfic meme

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