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vampkittyxoxo · 5 months ago

Note

Hello there!!!!

I am a big fan of your work and I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write romantic relationship hcs for draco? Any pronouns are welcomed and appreciated!

Of course, I do hope not to pressure you! Please do take your time! And of course, if you do not wish to do this request, that is perfectly alright!!! 😁

-🌮

(btw sorry if my request is incoherent😓)

Thank you all for your requests!! I’ve gotten many people asking for Draco!

And may I say thank you for all the compliments!! You are all so sweet!!

I wasn’t sure if the unlabeled requests wanted romantic or just general hcs so I wrote both.

This is also my third time writing this because tumblr keeps refreshing the app if I even change the app for a second, so sorry if this feels rushed!

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Draco romantic/general headcanons

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

~ Obviously, his favorite genre is metal. That doesn’t mean he likes all metal though— he can’t stand sludge metal or glam metal. However, he loves power metal and alternative metal!

~ I’d assume he’s around 23-24 in age, given that he had to have had time to build up his audience and find his sound.

~ Draco would be a bit on the tall side, maybe around 6’3-6’5 (roughly 190-196 cm). He has a nice build that comes naturally from a fast metabolism.

~ Admittedly… He really wants to start drawing. However, Draco thinks he’s too old to start now, so he opts for doodling dragons and wyverns in his free time.

~ Draco has quite a special interest in dragons… and of course, the obligatory hyperfixation on Wings of Fire in middle school. I mean, it was bad. He was telling all his friends about it, made every class project somehow correlate to Wings of Fire, and even wrote... fanfiction.... granted it was terrible considering he was 12. (I am not speaking from past experience with warrior cats.... no....)

~ He has a pretty decently sized vocabulary. This is mostly from reading lots of poetry and literature to help him with lyrics, but he is also smarter than he looks.

~ Draco has always been bad at making friends despite being popular now. He doesn't know how to talk to people for the first time and isn't sure what's all socially acceptable and what isn't. In middle school, he had a small group of four people, himself included, but he was always the odd one out. Then, in high school, he went through three different friend groups of varying sizes. It was very hard for him to maintain friendships, meaning lots of lunch periods were spent alone.

~ He was a theatre kid. I stand by this. Before he got actually good at singing, he practiced by getting supporting roles in school plays during high school.

Romantic Headcanons

~ Yes, he's popular. No, he's never had a real partner. You're what he considers his first.

~ Draco is very, very nervous at the start. The first time he saw you, even if you were dressed lazily, he was awestruck. Given his past with friends, he was very hesitant to talk to you. But God, the way you smiled at him, he forgot all about his past and made conversation.

~ While in the talking/friend stage, he gushes about you through song lyrics he writes in his journal. He would never show you or even tell you about it, though. Maybe 40 years past marriage, on his death bed he would...

~ As friends, Draco tells you about his music (if you're already not a fan... if you are a fan, that's another bullet point). If you react positively, he feels so validated and falls for you even harder.

~ Had you already known he's decently popular, Draco worries that you're only talking to him because of that fame. He obsesses over this fear for a week before finally giving in and asking for assurance.

~ He waits forever to ask you out-- he really wants to make sure you're giving signs that you like him before he does anything. And when he does, he doesn't make it a huge deal. After he takes you home one night, while saying your goodbyes, he pauses to ask if you would be his partner. When you say yes, he has to contain every ounce of his excitement to not look weird or desperate.

~ At the beginning, he's very hesitant to make any big steps forward. You're his first real partner, after all. He starts small with hand-holding, then gradually works up to other forms of affection.

~ He loves touching you, though. Even hand-holding is enough to get him flustered and giggling. He cuddles with you when watching shows or movies, before you're about to go to bed, or any other time he can make an excuse to hold you (or be held by you...). He's mostly the big spoon-- he loves the feeling of protecting you, so to speak-- but he enjoys being held every once in a while.

~ His main love languages are physical touch and quality time. Considering he probably gets gifts all the time from fans, gifts don't mean anything super special to him as it would to most normal people. He does appreciate it when you praise him or reassure him that he's not a bad person/musical artist/etc.

~ Draco will take you on every tour he goes on-- if you want to come with him that is. If you decide to go, he'll show you around every town you stop in, spoil you with good food and small presents, and make sure your trip is just as fun as his. Obviously, you get right up to that barricade at his shows.

~ He would discuss this with you first, but if you were comfortable with it, he would totally bring you up to the stage so you could sing the backing vocals for a song. He would introduce you as his partner (sorry to the other fans in the crowd... sorry Edgar...) and he would make sure the crowd likes you.

~ If you decide to stay home, he's facetiming you every chance he gets. He would probably set his phone up somewhere on the stage so you can watch the show as well. He misses you lots and lots and lots whenever he's away.

~ Draco has definitely written a few songs about you. He just prays you two never break up, because some are his most popular songs...

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

This is all I can think of right now... if I ever come up with more I'll make a new post. Requests are open <3

#draco brawl stars #brawl stars #brawl stars x reader #draco brawl stars x reader #brawl stars draco x reader #draco x reader

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archonsoflove · 1 year ago

Text

Law and Order

Zhongli/Tartaglia/Neuvilette

CW: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M/M, Mating & Breeding, Scent Marking

Word Count: 4.6k

-------> MASTERLIST

-------> Read on AO3

-------> Part Two: Hunger

Part One | Insatiable

“Zhongli, baobei, wouldn’t it be lovely to travel to Fontaine?” Ajax sat across from Zhongli at their usual table at Wanmin Restaurant, a basket of crystal shrimp between the two of them. “We’d be able to visit museums, do wine tastings, and browse antique stores. It paints a pretty picture, doesn’t it?”

Zhongli gave Ajax a flat look from the other side of the table, far from pleased. “Ajax, you know as well as anyone else that I have seen everything I will ever need to in my lifetime. There are certain places I don’t wish to visit twice.”

“What?” Ajax leaned forward; eyebrows raised in that mischievous way that Zhongli adored. “Don’t tell me you don’t get along with the Hydro Archon? Is that what this is about?”

The old dragon coughed into his hand, quickly making use of his chopsticks to snatch up a shrimp.

“Zhongli, no…” bewilderment lit up Ajax’s eyes, widened and ecstatic in realization. “You mean to tell me you will forfeit a vacation in Fontaine because of her?”

“Yes.”

And Ajax simply could not take no for an answer.

“Ajax, if you try and feed me any more ginger sweets, I fear your kindness will be rejected by my stomach and prove your efforts futile.”

While dragons and adeptal beasts were known for their immunity to most human ailments, it seemed Morax’s human form was not. Zhongli knew for a fact that the ocean was not his friend – Osial end him – and seasickness even less so.

Ajax sat down next to him on the bed in their cabin, a tentative hand coming to rest on his bare shoulder. The billowing white poet nightshirt hung to one side, proving to be a sorry sight against Zhongli’s dishevelled form.

“If I’d known Rex Lapis was prone to seasickness, I’d have put you on a ship a long time ago,” Ajax teased.

Zhongli face went ashen at the thought.

“I’d much prefer it if we spoke of something else.”

✦

Fontaine was beautiful. And elegant. Just as Zhongli had remembered it to be. Tall architecture, in creams and soft hues of blue that were gentle on the eye, lay before them. The crisp scent of freshwater melding with Sumeru’s ocean across the main harbour did not go unnoticed by his keen sense of smell.

“Would you look at that?” Ajax whistled softly as the land far below them passed by in a blur.

The Aquabus moved quite fast, and with the railings so low, Zhongli wondered for a passing moment if passengers had ever toppled over.

“Such fine machinery,” Zhongli hummed in agreement, keeping his hand tightly grasped in Ajax’s. Heights were something he was not fond of, if he could help it.

Zhongli felt as if he were still moving when they finally reached the port – and solid ground. A small creature, which he could only assume was a Melusine, passed them their luggage. He sat down on the bench to watch the bus depart once again, head still spinning from vertigo.

Ajax looked beautiful when he was in his own element. Dull blue eyes were now alight with keen interest and the bustle of a new city. And something warm bloomed in Zhongli’s chest, knowing he’d get to wander these streets with someone he loved. It had been a long time since he had indulged in the pleasantries of travel, especially with good company.

“While Fontaine has remained at the forefront of technology in recent years, it’s charming that they’ve held on to a more traditional style for their interior design.”

Ajax’s smile was genuine, eyes never leaving Zhongli’s face. It seemed there were some small ways in which he could surprise an Archon.

Hotel Debord had always welcomed the Northland Bank’s investments with open arms, and it seems that generosity was extended towards their employees as well. Their hotel room was a grand suite, bookcases lining one wall, cerulean and golden rimmed antiques on the other behind glass casing.

“And silk sheets?” Zhongli stepped over to the bed, running bare fingers over the golden silk, eyes dark amber in the soft lighting. “If I am correct, Fontaine takes pride in the quality of their silk productions, and much of their materials come from the Melusines…though I haven’t been able to meet with such a creature long enough to ask.”

Ajax dropped their suitcases by the foot of the bed and toed off his boots. His feet sank deliciously into the plush carpeting, and for a second, he thought it best they stay in for the evening... But! This was Fontaine. And the nightlife waited for no one.

Zhongli felt Ajax’s arms slip around his waist, breaking him from his thoughts of silks and tradesmanship. Ajax laughed softly at the small purr emanating from his lover’s chest, placing a small kiss in the hollow beneath his ear. He would never get enough of this man, and his mind, forever racing from thought to thought, constantly lost in history from decades past.

“I’m sure you’ll meet many people while we are here. But for now, shall we go out for the evening? Indulge a little?”

Zhongli hummed in agreement, arching his neck for Ajax to leave a small bite in the junction between his neck and shoulder. A flash of something hot and dangerous crackled up his spine, and he turned around in Ajax’s arms to face him.

“Dining with you would be my pleasure,” Zhongli whispered softly, his lips brushing the shell of Ajax’s ear. The involuntary shiver that passed through Ajax did not go unnoticed, and it made Zhongli’s lips tilt up in that humoured and sly way of his.

And it was always like that with them, the constant push and pull of their nature. It was one of the reasons why Zhongli loved him so dearly.

✦

Café Lucerne was in the heart of the Court of Fontaine, and Ajax did not for one second let go of Zhongli’s hand as they walked through the bustling streets. No one spared a second glance at them, too lost in their own affairs, and for that Zhongli was thankful. In Liyue, people were much more observant.

“While Café Lucerne is a café, they have wonderful food,” Ajax told him, a dashing smile complimenting the blush high on his cheeks. “It’s much different to our dining experiences at home.”

The sun had been unforgiving when they’d travelled through to Romaritime Harbour, and it seemed he was a touch sunkissed. And Zhongli’s heart swelled with fondness upon hearing home. Ajax thought of his land as home.

“What am I going to do with you?” He found himself saying, a smile tugging at his own lips as he allowed Ajax to drag him along.

A soft snort from the Snezhnayan. “You are going to take me to dinner, Zhongli.”

And what kind of lover would Zhongli be to deny him?

“Good evening,” a waitress ushered them to their table, her golden hair slicked back into a bun. “I will be back shortly to take your order.”

“This is quaint,” Zhongli commented, taking in the antique and fine clothing stores across from them. He swore he saw a dog with a bonnet, but it may have been a trick of the evening light.

“It is, isn’t it?” Ajax sighed wistfully and reached for a menu. “I’ve heard that you can debate and speak of any topics at Lucerne, as long as you don’t bring up death.”

Zhongli had to laugh at that.

“And, if you do, they will ban you.”

“However have you managed to not get banned when you last visited?”

Ajax smiled and met Zhongli’s gaze, his heart fluttering at the adoration he found in bright cor lapis.

“If you must know, I got quite drunk that last time I was here. A man was convinced he was an apple tree and wanted to “become one with the soil”, and so I told him to go drown himself instead.”

Zhongli frowned at that.

“It was a joke of course! I just found it absurd at the time, and I later found out his friends did bury him in the sand.”

“Fontaine’s people are stranger than I remember.”

Arouet had brewed them a perfect cup of coffee, with rich cream and milk. Ajax had insisted on having desert before dinner, and Zhongli basked in the leisurely nature of the evening.

“Sumeru’s coffee is richer in flavour,” was Zhongli’s conclusion. Ajax was crestfallen.

“While I can see the advantages of brewing coffee with the help of technology, I suppose the more traditional methods can never be overshadowed when quality is on the table.”

And Ajax had no room to argue. Sumerean vendors brewed their coffee in metal jugs over hot sand, and while the slight tang of bitterness put him off, he also missed the thicker quality of the espresso.

“But I do have to say that Arouet’s pâtissier makes lovely desserts,” Zhongli added, his attention drawn back to the Conch Madeleine, lifting a forkful to his mouth.

Before Ajax could reply, a man behind Zhongli caught his eye. It was the flash of pale blond hair, cascading down a cloak of ocean blue, elegant tailorship lining the edges of his suit in deep gold. It was only, and only, when he turned around from Lucerne’s front desk, that he realized exactly who he had been staring at.

The tall man locked eyes with Ajax, and immediately the Harbinger felt inclined to get up from his seat and run for the hills. Fontaine had hills, and caves, and he knew he could go far. Pale eyes trailed over Ajax, before landing on Zhongli’s back, eyes widening slightly. Zhongli stiffened, all too aware of Ajax’s distraction, and catching the scent permeating the air. One he knew far too well.

“Tartaglia, what a pleasant surprise to see you back in Fontaine so soon.”

Zhongli looked behind him at the deep voice, surprise colouring his cheeks a startling shade of crimson. He shot Ajax a glance before they both rose to greet the stranger.

“Chief Justice Neuvilette,” Ajax moved around the table, and offered out a hand for the judge to shake. Neuvilette simply stared at his hand for a moment, before hesitantly reciprocating. “It’s wonderful to see you again.”

Zhongli narrowed his eyes at the exchange, all too familiar with the scene playing out in front of him. And that scent. Sea salt and mint, something darker, and terribly recognizable.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Zhongli said stiffly, dipping his head in greeting, “again. It seems you still have not grasped the proprieties of mundane social etiquette, Neuvilette.”

Ajax didn’t miss the way Neuvilette seemed to do a double take when turning his focus to Zhongli. He did one himself. What did Zhongli mean by “again”?

“Oh…”

Zhongli revelled in the questions he saw swimming in those lavender eyes.

“I believe my eyes are not deceiving me,” Neuvilette finally said, “for we have met, haven’t we, Morax?”

Ajax looked between the two of them, his mouth slightly agape.

“I have to say, your alias is well-chosen,” Neuvilette continued, a soft, good-natured laugh in tow. “It seems we may have more in common than we initially thought, Tartaglia. We seem to travel in the same circles, despite our occupations, of course.”

Zhongli’s hackles rose at the thought of anyone thinking they knew more about Ajax than he did. A low growl threatened to escape him, but a tentative hand on his shoulder stopped him. Ajax’s hold tightened as he moved to stand next to him. Zhongli cleared his throat and cast his eyes down to the ground.

What on earth was he doing?

“That we do,” Ajax replied politely, wearing a smile Zhongli knew was well trained into him from his days spent helping customers with paperwork at Northland Bank. “I do hope you find the rest of your evening pleasant.”

“Yes,” Zhongli interjected. “And I am quite glad it is not raining. The weather has improved greatly since my last visit.”

Neuvilette’s eyes darkened at that, but he said nothing of it, and simply nodded. With his hands clasped behind his back, he offered Zhongli a shallow bow, that same, gentle smile on his face. Ajax felt wary of it, while Zhongli’s baser instincts seemed to recognize this as a challenge. But a friendly one. It made his head feel light. That dark scent clung to him, and made his breath quicken.

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen. May we meet again before you leave. It would be a pity if we didn’t meet for dinner. There is much for us to talk about after so much time spent apart.”

The two of them only sat down again once Neuvilette had turned the corner, heading to one of the Marcotte Station’s stop. The questions flowing between them, unanswered, seem to come out all at once.

“How do you-“

“Ajax, I’ve-“

Ajax laughed nervously and lifted a hand to run it through his hair. Zhongli knew he only did this when he was worried.

Zhongli decided to ask first.

“Ajax, how do you know the Chief Justice of Fontaine, exactly?”

Ajax sighed, looking at Zhongli with tired eyes.

“The last time I was in Fontaine, Il Dottore was occupied with Meka technology,” he started, smiling weakly when Zhongli reached over to hold his hand, his thumb tracing soothing patterns into his skin.

“And Clockwork Meka piqued his interest to such a high degree that he thought it fine to tamper with the official Fontainian Garde, which you can imagine was one of the reasons why I had to stand trial.”

“But thankfully I was let off easy, and in turn, was acquainted with the Chief Justice himself. There is nothing more to it, I can stand by that.”

Zhongli squeezed his hand reassuringly, his heart melting at the sight of those blue eyes filled with concern. He knew Ajax would fight for him in a heartbeat if he had to.

“I’ve known Neuvilette for many years,” Zhongli started, tentative and hushed. “But only in passing. Do you know what he is, Ajax?”

Ajax looked at Zhongli, expression morphing into confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Neuvilette is a dragon, Childe. A water dragon, at that.”

Zhongli had to try very hard not to burst out laughing at the look of mortification that fell over Ajax’s face.

“Is that…” Ajax closed his eyes and shook his head, as if this were a dream he could snap out of. “Zhongli, is that why you acted so out of line like that? Because he’s a dragon? Because you are territorial?”

The god had the audacity to look embarrassed.

“That may have been the case.”

Ajax then decided the bill was in order.

“Just like that.”

Zhongli bit deeply into the scar on Ajax’s nape, tongue laving gently over it after. His hands roamed over Ajax’s body, pressing deeply into tender muscles, the warm, soapy water rippling over them. Agile fingers traced over healed scars lovingly, and lips chased after freckles adorning the pale expanse of back akin to cinnamon on cream.

He could never get enough. Feel enough.

He inhaled deeply into Ajax’s neck, relishing in the snap of ice and pine that always lingered there. And his mind seemed transfixed on the notion that this man was his. A ceaseless mantra of mine, mine, mine. A low purr escaped him, and Ajax gasped, feeling hands tightening their grip around his waist.

“I’ve been lax with my training recently, haven’t I?” Ajax said breathily, head falling back to rest on Zhongli’s shoulder. “I hear there are many opponents to spar in the High Court. Champion Duellists, too.”

Zhongli kissed the furrow in his brow tenderly, a sound of protest leaving his lips.

“You are perfect,” he said reverently, lips skimming over Ajax’s cheekbone. Ajax hissed at the ticklish contact, skin still burning slightly from the sun. The hot water did not help much either.

To make his point clear, his fingers dug deeper into the softened flesh of his hips, thumbs moving in slow circles over his hipbones. Ajax moaned low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut at the gradually building heat in his gut, sitting heavy in his lower back. He arched into the touch, craving more, wanting more.

”We should finish up,” Zhongli whispered, voice a velvet timbre. “The heat won’t do your skin any good for too long, I’m afraid.”

A low chuckle, the water splashing as they got out. Zhongli knew exactly how to take care of him, and Ajax was still left speechless at how easily he read him. Again, the constant give and take, push, and pull, of their relationship left a thrill rushing through him. Or was that just how love was?

“Zhongli, don’t tell me you brought Mist Flower essence with you?” Ajax raised an eyebrow, sat on the edge of the bed as Zhongli rummaged through his suitcase.

He stopped for a moment, looking back at Ajax, a knowing glance thrown his way. Ajax’s eyes moved over his form, stopping at the dip of his collarbone, exposed where the silk robe had come loose.

“Ajax, you burn quicker than oil meeting a flame. Did you really think I wouldn’t come prepared?”

“Point taken,” Ajax huffed, tearing his gaze away. He undid his robe and lay on his stomach, letting it pool over his lower half. He winced at the tight pull of skin. He’d burnt badly. He felt the dip in the bed when Zhongli kneeled over him, the pop of a vial being opened, loud in the comfortable quiet.

A small whine when cold ointment met his skin, the strong smell of mint hanging over them.

He couldn’t deny that Zhongli’s hands felt wonderful on his skin. Featherlight touches, gentle and careful not to hurt, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His breathing evened out as Zhongli continued his work.

A single finger traced from his tailbone up to his nape, agonizingly slow, while the other gave his waist a testing squeeze.

“That feels good,” Ajax breathed, voice muffled by the sheets.

Zhongli didn’t miss the way Ajax’s hips shifted against the bed, and the flex of muscles, shining under the dim lighting. His fingers trailed down to his tailbone, slipping to his hips and underneath, grazing his abdomen.

“Such, ah-,” Ajax raised his hips, a soft moan escaping him, “such a tease.”

His face burnt bright, from the sun or arousal, he didn’t care. Zhongli’s chest pressed against his back, his cock half hard against the back of his thighs, his nose pressed into his neck.

“Because you’re mine, Ajax,” Zhongli said against his neck, voice laced with the edges of a growl. Oh, he’d never acted up like this.

“Hah, then-“ Ajax keened and writhed under him, trying to turn over to face him. A solid grip held him in place, pinning his hips into the bed. “Then take me.”

The scrape of elongated fingernails up his side made him release another pathetic wine. He wanted to see him, wanted to admire how well he’d made his lover lose his carefully held composure. From the corner of his tearing eyes, he noticed small flecks of gold adorning blackened arms like stars. Oh, how stunning he was.

“Like this,” Zhongli panted, breath fanning Ajax’s jaw, wet kisses trailing down to his collarbone, a fanged bite making him gasp at the sting. “You’re mine, Ajax. Mine to claim. Mine to breed.”

The old god’s eyes were wild, and molten gold when he gripped Ajax’s chin to press their lips together, tongue viciously prying his lips apart, to taste, to swallow those beautiful, high moans. Every caress was like fire, crawling up Ajax’s arched spine in white heat. If he were to die, he would choose this man to devour him.

“Zhongli,” Ajax’s voice came out shaky, between their lips, brushing together hurriedly as their robes were pushed off, water from a duck’s feathers. And how lovely Zhongli had always looked in silk. Regal, yet soft. “Please.”

Zhongli relished in the flush that spread over Ajax’s chest, as he ordered, “Prepare yourself for me.”

A soft gasp of shock followed Ajax as he moved to the head of the bed, resting his back against the cushioned headboard. Zhongli’s eyes watched him carefully, slitted pupils dilating at the sight of hydro slicking scarred fingers, before reaching down, index pressing insistently in. Impatient. And it had lust pooling heavy in his gut.

He couldn’t rip his gaze away from Ajax’s, deep blue eyes darker still, arousal and desire and love rising to the surface. He trailed a hand down his own stomach, an arm braced behind him, and legs spread, hissing at the contact with his hard length.

“I love seeing you like this,” Zhongli admitted breathily, “How you crave my touch. How it drives you mad.”

Ajax’s head lolls back to rest against the cushions, eyes closed, and mouth parted in a silent moan as he presses two fingers into himself. Zhongli’s eyes fall to his cock, a beautiful and sinful sight, laying against a white thigh littered with bruises from too tight a grip, the tip a deep shade of red. Erotic. Pearlescent spend leaking, begging to be tasted.

“You are divine,” Zhongli groans, deep and guttural and his own hand squeezes around his length. Heat stokes headily in his groin, and he stops, chest heaving with breaths meant to soothe the lust rather than to catch breath.

“Zhongli, please. I need you inside me,” Ajax’s free hand comes up to circle two fingers around the base of the head of his cock. Zhongli sees white for a second at the sight, his pride soaring high, a voice in the back of his mind declaring: he could come just like this, without even needing to touch him.

An animalistic sound, low and predatory, fills the room as Zhongli moves over Ajax. Obedient and knowing, Ajax removes his fingers from himself and holds them out to his lover. A long, rough tongue escapes kiss swollen lips to lick them clean, and he whines – a high, pathetic thing – as Zhongli moves down his body, eyes clouded over in a haze, the taste of Ajax, Ajax, Ajax on his tongue.

“Others may want you,” Zhongli murmured lowly against Ajax’s stomach, kisses pressed into freckles and scars reverently, “but I am the only one who may claim you. I have claimed you.”

“You have,” Ajax breathed out, lust-heavy gaze following Zhongli as he bit into his thighs, small pinpricks of blood licked up by a draconic tongue, just shy of being too rough to please.

A pleased purr emanated from the god’s chest, his arms and the tips of his hair shimmering with flecks of amber. Ajax held his breath, watching as Zhongli opened his mouth and licked tentatively at the head of his cock, finally tasting his prize.

“Oh,” Ajax’s hands found purchase in Zhongli’s hair, coaxing him to lick up his length, and swallow him down. A few silent moments as the vibrations of Zhongli’s own moans sent sparks of pleasure skittering up Ajax’s spine, making his stomach flex in anticipation.

And then he started moving, tongue dragging on the underside of his length, relishing the shudder he felt run through Ajax’s body, hands tightening in his hair and stinging deliciously.

Anyone who dared to challenge a god for his own mate was a fool. And Morax intended to imbed his scent on his mate as thoroughly as he could before the evening was over. And how intoxicating his scent was, the taste of Ajax’s spend heady and all-consuming on his tongue.

The following morning, Zhongli was insatiable.

“You are stunning like this, Ajax.”

Ajax’s laugh against his lips was swallowed into a deep kiss, followed by smaller kisses across the freckles scattered on his cheeks.

“Can we have breakfast, please? One moment of your time.” Ajax looked a mess. A beautiful, debauched and thoroughly fucked mess, at that. “While room service was a joy, I think the maids may never come in unannounced again.”

Zhongli had been awake before Ajax, and had taken him in his sleep, rousing his lover from dreams to come inside him again. At the memory, Zhongli gently pressed a kiss to Ajax’s shoulder, trailing his teeth cheekily over the bruise there for good measure.

“I thought it was good manners to knock, but it seems Fontaine is different.”

Ajax scoffed at that, sitting up a little to reach over for the tray that had been placed on the nightstand. “Quite.”

Amongst freshly sliced bread, jam, and black coffee, they spotted a blue envelope secured under the stacked side plates.

“A letter?” Ajax frowned and snatched it up, turning it over curiously. Embossed with the High Court’s crest, and addressed to them, there was no mistaking who it was for.

I hope this letter finds you both well.

While our meeting was brief last evening, I trust you will accept my invitation to dine near Palais Mermonia. My apartment is just across from the building. You would be blind to miss it! Fontaine offers a rich history of the arts and law alike, which I know you will enjoy learning more of. I will be off duty by six, and eagerly await this opportunity to catch up with old friends.

Sincerely,

Iudex of Fontaine,

Chief Justice

Neuvilette

“He’s really inviting us to dinner, isn’t he,” Ajax stated, more out of disbelief, than actually asking a question. “Zhongli?”

“It’s hard to say…” Zhongli started, eyes still scanning over the words. Elegant penmanship, he found himself thinking.

“Do you want to see him?”

When Zhongli looked up at Ajax, instead of seeing jealousy like he’d feared, he saw sincerity and a tender softness. Vulnerability.

“I…” he sighed frustratedly. “Ajax, I was not completely honest with you last night. Neuvilette… while he is…” he fixed his eyes on Ajax’s fingers, absently tracing circles over the inside of his arm. “He was a close friend, quite some time ago, but…”

Ajax had never witnessed Zhongli at a loss for words many times in their relationship, but the tenderness never left his touch or his gaze when he asked: “Were you lovers?”

“Oh!” Zhongli laughed at that. “No, no, not quite. I never had an interest of that nature towards him, but…I do think he did.”

“Hm, I can’t blame him,” Ajax pressed a kiss to Zhongli’s temple, nose nuzzling affectionately into his hair. “Would you like him to have an interest in you?”

They knocked noses as Zhongli turned his face to kiss the corner of Ajax’s mouth, seeking the warmth and reassurance of his presence. “I don’t find it uncomfortable, if that is what you are implying.”

“My love, you know what I am asking.” Ajax kissed Zhongli gently, coaxing the answer out of him, teeth sinking into his plush lower lip.

Zhongli reached out a hand to grip the tray on Ajax’s lap, already knowing he’d knock over the hot pot of coffee onto them if they continued.

“Ajax, I am quite aware of what you are trying to get out of me, but….”

“But?” Ajax prompted, looking smug, noticing the blush rising high onto Zhongli’s cheekbones.

“Dragons have certain instincts…ones that aren’t quite usual anymore, since there aren’t many of us left” he admitted, a sigh of defeat following.

“You’ve always had the instinct to breed me-“

“This is different,” Zhongli cut in, holding up a hand to silence him. “While we are scarce, we still tend to want…” he trailed off and brought a hand up to his face, touching his reddened cheeks self-consciously.

Ajax left a kiss on Zhongli’s jaw, a silent encouragement.

“Zhongli, I love you. I will never judge you.” Another kiss on the shell of his ear.

He let out a shuddering breath. “While it’s in our nature to breed, it’s common for my kind to want the same in return as well. This desire can sometimes be fuelled by the presence of a compatible mate.”

Zhongli could see the cogs turning in Ajax’s mind already, making sense of everything he had just said.

“So…” Ajax leaned forwards to put the tray by the foot of the bed, the glass clinking as they settled. “You’re saying that while you adore doting after me, there’s something Neuvilette can offer that I can’t? Something you crave?”

Zhongli let out a choked gasp as Ajax climbed over him to straddle his hips, pushing their hips together, grinding down.

“Ah, I can see the appeal, honestly,” he said, bracing his hands on Zhongli’s chest, thumbs running over his nipples, hips moving sweetly to brush their lengths together teasingly.

“I don’t need it, Ajax,” Zhongli said, voice wavering with newfound arousal. Ajax looked beautiful above him, taking what he wanted when he wanted, using him however he pleased. “I have you, and I love you, and that’s all I’ll ever need.”

“But,” Ajax’s hips came to a stop and he arched forwards, all lithe and lean muscle, and practiced balance. “I can imagine it, Zhongli. You taking me, filling me with both of your cocks, and him – ah – filling you from behind, taking your pleasure, but knowing he can never be yours. Not in the way that we are each other’s.”

“Who would we be, to deny ourselves the delicacies Fontaine has to offer?”

-------> Fic Tags: @halfwizardprincess @randomness-fandomness12

@aristotels

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfics #zhongli x childe #zhongchi #genshin impact fanfiction #zhongli smut #genshin impact smut #zhongli #neuvillette genshin #genshin neuvillette #neuvilette smut #zhongli x tartaglia #tartaglia smut #tartaglia genshin impact #zhongli x neuvilette #tartaglia x neuvilette #neuvilette

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zoyaofthegardvn · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, doll :)

I know you are currently drowning in requests, but I wanted to ask if I could request an angsty mor x reader. However, if someone has already asked something like that just disregard this one xx

ILY 🌺

New Friends, Old Insecurities (1)

A/N: Yes yes yes! I love writing angst to fluff stuff! Thanks so much for the request, anon! :) This will be divided into two parts!

CW: None! But this is pure angst, so the fluff isn't til I write a part 2!

Update: Part 2 is now posted! Read it here!

---

You sighed as you watched Emerie and Mor spar, taking a seat off to the side so that you could finish up the work you'd brought along with you. You decided to come today because you've been missing your mate, but it's clear that you won't be receiving any of her attention today like you so desperately craved.

Ever since Nesta had become best friends with Gwyn and Emerie, they'd become close to everyone in the Night Court. In fact, you'd grown especially fond of Gwyn, and now considered her one of your dearest friends. Emerie and Mor had clicked, and their friendship had taken off fast. You were happy that Mor was making more friends, especially female friends as she'd spent so long just with Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel. But, you were, in fact, jealous.

You tried not to be. Really. But it was a deep insecurity of yours, that Mor would find someone better and leave you. She was just so bold, so confident, so commanding and brave. And so was Emerie. You were reserved, and quiet. You weren't a warrior like Mor, sticking to more intellectual pursuits. You didn't like to party, and you never had any interest in learning a sword. You had always wondered if Mor wished she'd been mated to anyone but you, but for the most part, you were able to look past the insecurities, as your relationship with her was loving and perfect.

But she was spending so much time with Emerie. They'd train together even when the Valkyries weren't, they'd go to Emerie's shop and talk weapons for hours, they'd patrol the camps as a pair and often sat together to talk about anything and everything. It'd been weeks of this, and though it was you that Mor came home to every night, you that she made love to, you that she said she loved, you genuinely had your doubts.

You were interrupted from your thoughts when someone came to stand in front of you. Looking up, you're greeted with Gwyn's kind smile.

"Hey," she says, hand over her eyes to shield from the sun.

"Hey," you respond, but your heart isn't in it.

Gwyn looks back over her shoulder, to where Mor and Emerie are laughing as they take a water break, and she looks back to you with concern in her eyes.

"S'fine," you shrug, a bit embarrassed that others had began to notice your mate's affections for another female.

Gwyn shakes her head. "It's not," she says, reaching her hand out to grab your own. She pulls you up and places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm done for the day, how about we go into town before dinner? We could go to the bookstore?"

You glance behind her, where Mor hasn't even turned to look at you or made her way over to say hello, and then you nod. "Yes, I think I'd quite like that."

---

"She adores you, Y/N, I think she's just forgotten how it's like to make a new, true friend, you know?" Gwyn says, taking a sip from the hot tea she'd ordered from the bookstore cafe.

Your eyes roam the shelves in the Fantasy section, your iced coffee clutched in your hand. "I never see her anymore, and when I do, it's when we're getting ready for bed, or she's about to leave in the morning, or I see her when we're all in a group. And even then, it's like she's not even with me."

Gwyn hums, then grabs a book with an emerald green cover, a dragon illustrated on the front. She flips it over to skim the back. "It is pretty shitty, I'm not denying that. But I don't believe it's because she loves you any less than she always has."

You shrug. "I don't know what to do anymore. The only time it even feels like we're in a relationship is when she wants to have sex."

Gwyn's head snaps up. "That's just wrong! I'm sorry she's making you feel this way. You deserve better. Have you tried talking to her about it?"

You shake your head, and try to stop the tears welling in your eyes. "No, I haven't. I don't know how."

Gwyn reaches out and rubs your arm gently. "You're one of my best friends, Y/N, we'll figure it out together."

You smile at her, a pure, genuine smile, something you hadn't done in weeks. "Thank you, Gwyn."

She returns the affection, then hands you the book she'd pulled. "This sounds like something you'd enjoy."

---

You and Gwyn spent hours at the bookstore, browsing and reading. Gwyn had been right, the book she'd found was exactly what you enjoyed, and you two read your new books, hers being an obscene romance title, for a while at an outdoor table, sipping your drinks and sharing a few slices of lemon cake.

You two also discussed how you'd confront Mor, and when. It was decided that you'd ask her about it tonight, before bed. You'd remain calm, and you'd try not to cry. You would avoid an argument, and you'd explain how you'd feel. It was a good plan. A solid one, that you hoped would work.

You two decided to leave as the sun began to set, knowing you'd be late for dinner at this rate, but you wouldn't miss it entirely.

You could hear your friends laughing and drinking as you arrived back at the house, and as you and Gwyn slipped your shoes off, you heard Cassian call, "There they are!" before him and Azriel came into the hallway.

Azriel smiled at Gwyn, bending to plant a sweet kiss to her lips before pulling her along to the dining room, where a full meal awaited her. You grinned at them, beyond excited that they'd finally accepted their mating bond.

Cassian clapped you on the back, smelling strongly of wine, and pushed you into the room as well. Instantly, your eyes fell to Mor. She was sat next to Emerie, who was sat in the seat you usually occupied. Instantly, your smile vanished. Gwyn met your gaze and rolled her eyes, shrugging, as if to say, "Screw them."

Your lower lip trembled at the small betrayal, but you swore to yourself that you weren't going to cry. Rather than take a seat at the table, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of wine.

As you poured, you heard the door swing open behind you, but you didn't care enough to look.

"Where've you been today?" Mor asks, curiosity lacing her tone. Usually, you told Mor about your every move. Mostly because she worried when she didn't know where you were, and you liked the idea of someone caring about what you were doing.

You still didn't turn around, filling your glass nearly to the brim before setting the bottle down and taking a deep sip.

"I went to town," is your curt reply, cold and to the point.

You hear her take a few more steps towards you, but before she can reach you, you spin away from her and head towards the door, straight back to the dining room where you take an empty seat beside Gwyn, across the table and on the other end from where Mor and Emerie have taken seats.

Mor enters shortly after, looking confused, and she stares at you a long while when she notices that you'd sat as far from her as possible. You refuse to make eye contact, instead, you focus on making yourself a plate of the dinner Feyre and Elain had made. It smelled divine, and you were starved.

Conversation remained light, and mostly, you could tune out Emerie and Mor's voices, whatever conversation they were having. Gwyn, bless her, spoke to you nearly the entire time. She was a great friend, and a welcomed distraction.

When everyone began to clear their plates and put stuff away, you instantly went to the door after cleaning your mess. Usually, you and Mor would hang out for a while, then make your way home together. Without fail, nighttime was reserved for one another.

You waited by the door for a while, growing impatient and nearly ready to just leave Mor behind and wait for her at home, when she came around the corner.

"Hey," she says, furrowing her eyebrows at the sight of you all ready to leave.

"Are you ready?" Is how you respond, again, cold and to the point.

Mor rolls her eyes, confused and a bit agitated. "Well, actually, Emerie wants me to come to the shop tonight and work with her, I just wanted to let you know."

Cold dread washes over your body, your heart dropping. Once again, Mor is choosing Emerie over you, and once again, you're convinced that she wishes Emerie was her mate and not you.

"Are you serious right now?" You whisper, voice angry and brittle.

Mor says nothing, just looks at you with a questioning glare.

You laugh, humorless and bitter. You throw your hands up. "Well, Mor, you just have the most fun, and how about you stay there tonight, since you're so fond of her, hmm?"

So much for not starting an argument.

Mor recoils. "Excuse me?" she grits out, beyond offended.

"You heard me. Stay with her tonight, let's stop pretending like you don't prefer her to me," you spit, your voiced hushed as you're aware of all of your friends just in the next room over.

Mor shakes her head. "You cannot be serious right now," she glares at you like you've gone mad. "So, you're jealous?" she asks, and you don't respond. She scoffs, "I thought you were better than that."

And that, to you, is the nail in the coffin. You can't help the tears that well and spill over your cheeks. You look at her, you shake your head in disappointment, then you pull open the front door and leave.

---

You made it back home in record time, in case Mor did decide to come home, you didn't really want to face her. You slam the front door shut behind you, and in the privacy of your living room, you let loose a sob.

For weeks she'd been neglecting you, ditching you, spending more time with Emerie than her own mate. Her wife. She'd started giving the time of her day always dedicated to you, to someone else. She was never home. She hardly acknowledged whenever you were in the same place as her, and when she was home, it was to have sex, then sleep, then repeat. It hurt. And you couldn't take it anymore. You could feel the bond pulled taut between the two of you, and you closed yourself off from it entirely so that you could try to forget it even existed.

You're in your bedroom, still crying, when you hear the front door open. Mor.

She calls your name, sounding beyond frustrated. When she can't find you anywhere, she goes upstairs, and throws open the bedroom door.

When she barges in, her eyes land on your form, sat on the bed, head in your hands.

"What the fuck has gotten into you?"

Your head shoots up. "Me? What's gotten into me? I'm not the one falling in love with another woman!" Your voice is shaky, and your hands tremble as you take Mor in, her hands on her hips as she paces the room.

"Are you nuts? Emerie is my friend! I cannot believe you're acting like this out of jealousy!" She shakes her head like she's disappointed, like she's scolding a child for bad behavior.

You stand up, but you don't approach her. "And what about your mate?!" you roar, pointing a finger at her. "What about the female you married, the female you never fucking see anymore? Huh?"

Mor looks taken aback by your sudden shift from sadness to rage. "We've been bus-"

"DON'T! Don't give me that shit!" You bring a hand up to wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. "You're the one that's been busy with another female, I've been here, the whole fucking time, waiting for my mate to act like she's still in love with me!"

Mor flinches like she's been struck. "You can't be serious! Of course I'm in love with you Y/N, and I have seen you, every night I come home an-"

"And you fuck me then go to sleep, so you can wake up and see Emerie again." You spit, knowing it's a low blow, but that it's also true, and a cruel part of you wants to hurt her the way she's been hurting you.

Mor pales, her jaw clenches and her hands begin to sake with barely controlled anger. "We have never, ever, just fucked, and you know that. How dare you? How dare you act like every time we're together it doesn't mean something more than that?" Her voice cracks at the end, and it surprises you, that she'd start crying over this too.

"Do you think about her when we have sex?" You know you're just antagonizing her, but truly, you're convinced that you're not the female she's in love with anymore.

Mor's eyes widen, and she snarls before marching towards you. "Don't you ever fucking say something like that again! I have never not shown you that I'm in love with you!" She's in your face, and her angry tears are spilling from her eyes.

You push past her and make your way to the closet door, needing to put distance between the two of you.

"No, you've just started spending your entire days and evenings with her, only coming home to have sex with me then leave before I wake up. You've only been dedicating your time spent with me to her and her workshop, our breakfast dates to training sessions with her. You've been neglecting to ask me about my day and how I've been so that you can tell me all about your day with her. You've just been ignoring me when I'm in the same room as you two, because you're clearly having too much fun with her to be bothered. And you've started giving her my seat at the dinner table, because rather than find out where I am, you'd rather have her fill my place."

Mor's dead silent, staring at you from across the room. Her tears are still dripping, her hand is clenched into a fist and her other hand has come up to cover her mouth.

"All I've wanted these past few weeks is your attention. Your love. And no matter what I do, I can't seem to get it. But... but Emerie has no problem." You pause and take a deep breath, trying to steady your voice. "So, no, Mor. Maybe you've not exactly shown me that you're not in love with me, but you have shown me that you're falling in love with someone else."

She chokes on a sob. "No, Gods, no, baby. No. Never could I love anyone else."

You're crying again, and you choke on a sob mixed with a bitter laugh. "I-I think that you want to believe that. Mor, I've always known that I'm not right for you, mates or not, I think you know it too."

You turn and open the closet door, entering the small space and grabbing one of your larger bags. Mor walks in after you.

"T-That is not fucking true!" She blubbers, heaving deep breaths as she watches you pack some of your clothes.

"B-Baby, s-stop," she tries to plead, but you ignore her, and shake her hand off when she tries to grab your arm. You've just been grabbing things at random, but you need to get out of this house, now, so you can only hope that you've grabbed enough pants, shirts, dresses, and pairs of bras and underwear to actually last you a while.

You storm out of the closet and head into the bathroom to grab toiletries. Again, you grab at random, hardly able to see through your tears. And, of course, Mor follows.

"Y/N, p-please stop, we can talk about this, plea-"

You whirl around. "I've said all I needed to say! I'm done, Mor. I'm done."

Mor cries harder, looking down at the floor in utter devastation. The sound of her sobs breaks your heart even more than it already has, and you resist the urge to comfort her, to tell her it's okay, that you two can move on.

Reentering the bedroom, you throw the bag on the bed so that you can zip it up. Mor trails after you, and watches as the love of her life gets ready to leave her.

"Baby, please, I-I love you, so fucking much. I'm sorry, I-I'm so, so sorry," she can hardly get it out from how hard she's crying, and you know that if you turn around, you'll break. So you focus on sliding your bag up your arm and putting your shoes on. When you're ready, you make for the bedroom door, and you practically run down the stairs, eager to get away from the heartbreak tainting the house that was meant to be your home.

Again, Mor grabs your arm before you can open the front door. "Please don't leave, let me make this right," her voice is a whisper, muffled from the congestion caused by her crying.

You close your eyes, you don't turn to look at her. "I love you, Mor, I always will," you hear Mor's breath catch as she waits for you to finish, as she hopes that you'll relent, that you'll put the bag down and take her into your arms and let her explain and apologize and let her change so that she never hurts you again. But you meant what you said, when you told her that you couldn't do it anymore. "But I'm done. I-I'm sorry."

And with that, you're ripping the door open, and leaving into the night.

---

A/N: Whew! That was angsty! Also, just wanna add, I love Emerie! I tried to not make her sound like a female trying to take Mor away from reader, but she is the source of the issue here. Just please know that my characterization of her is not book accurate and was changed for the sake of a fight fic, I love Emerie a lot!

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fleshwerks · 2 days ago

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I do want to use Veilguard's 'be who you want to be' philosophy to segue into Anthem, and why it worked in Anthem. Now, Anthem had to benefit of being a first installment, a new IP, and so it had the opportunity to establish tonality, and it did. It was very much 'found family, heroism, save your city, love your friends, be who you are.' and it remained entirely consistent in it.

It saw your friends struggle through the changing world and expectations, yes. And I'd say, the NPCs in Anthem felt a great deal more 'human', and their struggles appropriate and realistic. You have Faye who's a bit of a mind-mage in a society that controls her kind and uses them for labour. It establishes threats caused by the condition (wandering too far and getting lost, being reduced to a hollow husk, a meat body as your mind and spirit fly too close to the sun). Their mental abilities are also very useful and very dangerous and invasive to others. Faye struggles with that, she's a perfectionist, practical, and holds people at arm's length because of it. She has patience, but gets pretty aggressively upset with irrational and stubborn people who don't do what they're supposed to do for the greater good. You have Haluk who's grappling with being an aging rockstar type, who can no longer do what was his claim to fame and self-fulfillment and self-image in the first place, and who's impulsive, aggressive type depressed, and who really, really, really can't accept the fact that yes, his impulsiveness got his entire fleet of lancers killed, that he's no longer a hotshot, not even a cold shot, and that what few friends he had left abandoned him.

You have the secondary cast, one of whom is a Ft Tarsis cop who's chafing under wanting to do things by the book, but also, not wanting to do the things by the book, and generally not relating to people because of her being fairly evidently on the spectrum, struggling to make sense of the world at all, and coming across as incredibly abrasive at first because she just doesn't know how to relate, and it's made her hurt and closed off, deep down.

You have an obsessed dude who gets split in three, and grapples with not just all three of him dying slowly as a result, but also the fact that he's not 'whole' as he was before, but now there's three of him and all three share one person's memories, but are learning to be three separate individuals. And one of them's a real jackass.

The rest of the world does gossip about you and there's interpersonal conflict, but the tonality holds strong: work out your frankly chafing differences, hold fast, stand united, 'stronger together'.

That's the entire setting. Of all things that Anthem got wrong, it got the human element of acceptance, found family and friendship not just incredibly right, but it's consistent with the world, its lore, its philosophy.

Veilguard it seems to me tried to do something very similar, but the established lore supports none of it, and that's why it's so jarring. What's worse, it is absolutely scared to death of being 'problematic'. Anthem had no such qualms, all of your friendly supporting NPCs were lovable, but also utter pieces of work that butted heads often and ferociously, and you as a player were the glue between them. Veilguard is terrified of introducing strife that doesn't get solved with an one minute dialogue by Rook suitable for addressing 5-year-olds fighting over a toy. So not only is the world sanitised, but so are the interpersonal relationships, and the tonal shift of Veilguard in comparison to the previous games just makes for an absolute mess that doesn't feel like Dragon Age at all.

#veilguard critical #datv #anthem

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itsadragonaesthetic · 4 months ago

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A lot of you have probably seen videos of that person who taught her parrots to communicate using speech boards and has taught them words that way right? Anyway I just find it extremely interesting when an accident occurs or some kind of misunderstanding from the regular English understanding of something happens it really gets my brain excited. The parrots seem to have equated "slow" and "fast" to be insults and compliments respectively, saying that someone is "slow" when they're being irritating. One of them absolutely loves dragons, and seems to think that dogs are dragons. When asked various yes and no questions about dragons, they said they wanted a small dragon that they could cuddle with. One of them has a lot of health conditions and seems to think that all pain equates to cancer, which was introduced as the disease that killed their parrot friend. They seem to ask to look at pictures of their old friend a lot on days when they are experiencing a lot of anxiety and pain.

I'm honestly pretty sure the parrots don't understand advanced syntax (the speech board hardly allows for it anyway) and I'm sure lots of people just don't believe the parrots are "talking" but I agree. They're not speaking English. They are using a communication accessibility tool to hopefully convey meaning to their owners. Idk man I just think it's so cool and I honestly think parrots are just as good as apes when it comes to communication.

#my posts #dragon speaks

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geode-crystal · 2 months ago

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Writeblr Interview tag game!

Wooo thanks for the tag @tildeathiwillwrite this looks like fun!

Open tag for anybody else who wants to answer these :)

Short stories, novels, or poems?

Yes, yes, and yes lol.

I tend to write novel-length things purely because I just... keep going XD I usually get more ideas than a short story allows. I do need to work on keeping things to the point sometimes!

But I have written short stories and one-shots (mostly as responses to promts) and I am very technically a published poet, since a few of my poems were published in a collection thanks to a writing competition back in high school .

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, full stop. I also love books that play on fairy tales and folklore.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

I usually like to have a general idea of where I'm going, and figure the rest out along the way. Sometimes I make full outlines when projects get Really Big.

What music do you listen to while writing?

I either put on one of my incredibly random playlists or go to youtube and look for "relaxing [insert video game here] music." Pokemon soundtracks are actually really nice to write to.

Favorite books/movies?

Soooo many lol.

I'm a big fan of Disney and Pixar movies (as one of my previous posts made pretty obvious lol), particularly the Disney renaissance. Adore The Princess Bride. Love Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. Love Studio Ghibli movies, personal favorite being Castle in the Sky. Of course, we have the classic Muppet Treasure Island as well. And I love every version of Scott Pilgrim out there, the movie, Netflix anime, and graphic novels are all amazing.

And for books... oh my gods there are too many to list here, but shout outs to Catherynne M. Valente's Fairyland series, the Chrestomanci books by Diana Wynne Jones (as well as Howl's Moving Castle), Raybearer and Redemptor by Jordan Ifueko, and the Hero's Guide series by Christopher Healy. Percy Jackson, too.

A lot of my favorite whump moments come from the good old Deltora Quest series by Emily Rhodda and The Mage of Trelian by Michelle Knudsen.

Any current WIPs?

So many. Too many. I need to escape lol.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

I've based a few characters off of people I know before. Mostly my close friends. One of whom I write with a lot, so we've used each other as inspiration several times lol.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

No no no no no, not at all lolol. It's exactly the opposite. I have so much difficulty permanently killing off characters, to the point that my first novel-length project way back in my first year of high school ended with the villain getting polymorphed into a fish instead of dying. XD

I only do permadeath when it is absolutely necessary for the story. But... well, to quote The Return of Jafar: "You'd be surprised what you could live through."

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Don't usually drink or snack while writing.

Slow or fast writer?

Completely depends on the project, but I would say fairly slow. Especially compared to my writing buddy they're an absolute speed demon lol

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Depends on the fantasy world, really. Definitely some kind of musician and/or storyteller, like a troubador or something. Maybe some kind of minor nobility, with all the "fun" I've had with the burden of expectations. I would love to have some kind of magic, especially if it's music-based. So..... basically a bard!

I'd also be very likely to be something not fully human, be that an elf or fairy or mermaid... or even a changeling.

Most fav book cliche:

There's a long list! But I really like Found Family stuff, and any time magic comes with A Price.

Least favorite cliche:

Characters getting pointlessly killed off just for the sake of Extra Drama.

Favorite scene to write?

Hurt/comfort, both ends! I especially love anything with added Guilt for one or all parties!

Reason for writing?

To paraphrase Brian David Gilbert: stories come to me in my dreams like a prophet receiving visions from an angry god.

I write because I'm always coming up with different ideas. I write because I was basically designed to study and create stories. Even if I don't physically write anything down, I will always find a way to tell some kind of story, be it just piecing together ideas in my head or through singing Broadway-style songs or even just attempting to draw a character. I write because it's just what I do!

#tag game #ask game #writer moments #crystal rambles #this was fun! thanks for the tag!

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krysmcscience · 5 months ago

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Intro post I will prolly edit later, lol

Figured I needed to make a pinned post at some point for people checking out my page.

Here's my ko-fi - And yes, I do commissions. The prices are based on the time and effort it takes me. If you want something cheap and fast, I offer '$2 per minute' sketches. I can do more with that time than you might think. (Granted, I also worry way less about pesky things like anatomy and outfit details.)

Here's my Ao3 - My stuff is dark and unpleasant, because my life has been dark and unpleasant, and thus what I write is not meant for either children or people who think censoring dark and unpleasant things helps anyone. :) My stuff is also Pretty Dang Queer.

Here's my original art tag - I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Breach, and a bit of Heavenshine. On hold is The Spirit Marauder, Starlight Killer, and Bleached Canvas, among other stories that I may or may not have posted about. Sometimes I forget to tag character and story names and such, though, because I am bad at tagging.

Here's my fanart tag - Again, I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Gravity Falls (specifically Billford). I may sometimes still draw for Cult of the Lamb, Among Us, Pokemon, Zelda, Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball, and Tokyo Mew Mew, among other things, but most of my older stuff doesn't have the fanart tag (because again - I am bad at tagging). I no longer draw for Homestuck, though I may still reblog posts about it that I find funny, and while I don't think I ever posted art for it here, anyway, my InuYasha hyperfixation died the moment my comfort character was turned into a pedophile. It is liable to never recover. u_u

Here's my art reblog tag - I very rarely reblog other folks' art. Not because I don't like it, but because if I reblogged every bit of art that I liked, I would probably overwhelm all my followers' dashboards. 8|; If you want to see all the stuff I like, anyway, my likes are public.

Here's my everything else tag - I'll usually stick this onto my ramblings, or on reblogs of stuff that isn't other folks' art.

Quick n' dirty deets about me: Filthy socialist (meaning ACAB, fuck MAGA, terfs can GTFO, from the river to the sea, and so on). Also, gendervoid aro-ace aegosexual with rampant AuDHD.

FAQ:

NO, I do not do drawing or writing requests. I do not have the time or energy. I may do random gifts for other artists or writers if I get the inspiration for it, but that's at my own discretion.

NO, I will not mark any of my posts as mature. I do not post smut art, I make clear what my writings contain in both the writings and posts themselves, and the internet is not a safe space for children. If you're a minor, best to steer clear of my page, and if you choose not to - because goodness knows I would have done the same at that age - then heed the provided warnings and proceed with caution. I am no one's parent or babysitter, and no one on the internet should expect me to be.

NO, I will not turn on anonymous messages. The moment my InuYasha comfort character was turned into a pedophile and I spoke out about it, I was harassed en masse by the grossest part of the fandom. If you want to be an asshole at me, you can do it with the full knowledge that I'll be outing you for your assholery the second you do. :)

YES, you can message me, provided you've been following me for more than a week. I don't always know what to say, though, so if I don't reply, that's on me and not you. (It tends to take me a while to reply to things, anyway. I am consistently tired and overwhelmed, plus a massive introvert.)

YES, you can draw or write stuff based off of what I've drawn or written! Of course you can!! Please do!!! Just share it with me first!!!!! OuO

YES, you can spam me with likes and reblogs, I do not mind at all. I don't even care how old the post is, so go nuts, my dude - like and reblog to your heart's content.

Krys is pronounced the same as "Chris", not "cries". If we start chatting and get to the point where we start talking over mics and you call me "Cries", I can promise that I while I WILL roll with it, I will also NEVER let you live it down, so if it's easier for you, just call me Terri. It's pronounced like normal, but short for Terrible.

I know it says 'she/them' in my bio, but gender is a nebulous void for me, so I don't actually care what pronouns you use for me.

As of June 17, 2024, I am 36. And yes, I feel fucking old.

Don't bother me with pro/anti-shipping garbage. I do not care about shipping wars. I cannot possibly care about shipping wars, not when half of my own ships are toxic garbage. What I do care about is whether or not a toxic garbage ship is framed correctly, especially when it's aimed at a young and impressionable audience. (LOOKING HARD AT YOU, YASHAHIME.)

If you know me from DA, NO YOU DO NOT. I just went through all my old posts on there, and good GRAVY was I fucking annoying. I should show all that shit to my mom and be like, 'Are you SURE I didn't have ADHD growing up??? Cuz it sure READS like I had ADHD growing up!!!'

I don't know what else to add here at the moment, so I'ma go back to recovering from weeks worth of working on comic stuff now. <:]

#pinned post #pinned intro #random shit

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catofadifferentcolor · 2 years ago

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Terrible Fic Ideas #30: A Maiden Dark and Fair, but make it f!Jon/Renly

As some of you may be aware, I have a slight obsession with female Jon Snow fics, in large part because of the pairings it makes possible to secure the Iron Throne. So many interesting houses, so many potential grooms...

To which, I've spent the last several weeks trying to figure out how to make an arranged marriage between a female!Jon Snow and Renly Baratheon work.

Just imagine it:

Robert Baratheon is not a particularly liberally-minded man. He sees his youngest brother prefers men to women and, rather than make other arrangements for the succession of Storm's End, concludes that Renly just hasn't been offered a woman pretty enough.

Bobby B has also always wanted to join his bloodline to House Stark. His son deserves a woman like his own beloved Lyanna to be his queen. Joffrey and Sansa are of age - only Sansa takes after her mother, so that would be like giving his son a Tully bride, no matter how beautiful. Maybe they can betroth Tommen and Arya?

But wait! Ned has a bastard daughter - a beautiful, of-age bastard daughter who is said to be Lyanna come again, Alys. A bastard, yes, but Robert can do a favor for Ned and legitimize the girl and do a favor for Renly by marrying him to the most beautiful woman in Westeros.

Naturally, the only one pleased by this is Robert.

However much all other parties do not want this marriage to happen (Renly has no desire to marry a woman; Alys was intending to become the next Old Nan; Ned is worried someone in the south will see Rhaegar in Alys' features; the other great houses are offended the king's brother is marrying a bastard, &c), Robert does, and it's his opinion that matters.

And so Alys Snow becomes Lady Baratheon of Storm's End.

Much to everyone's surprise, Alys and Renly become friendly on the journey back south. It makes the marriage rather more bearable, but doesn't change the fact that everyone in Westeros expects heirs from them before too long.

There are two ways I can see this going: 1) Alys, being a Northern bastard without recourse to the Wall or the Faith, has spent most of her youth training as a midwife. Before Bobby B got involved, it was her intention never to marry - in part to avoid complicating the succession, in part because she's asexual despite Westeros not having a word for it - and help care for her siblings' children. She takes a very practical view of things, and after some trial and error with a medieval funnel, their problems are solved.

Or: 2) After spending some time together, Alys and Loras get along well enough that the three of them settle into something of a polyamorous relationship. Bi!Loras facilitates sex between his lover and his wife - dealers choice on the details - and while it's nothing any of them would have sought out, it works well enough for them. And if one or two of the kids look more Tyrell than Baratheon? Well, who knows who Alys' mother was anyway?

Fast forward two or three years to the events of canon, with Robert dying (either killed by his wife or his own bad habits) and the War of Five Kings breaking out.

Perhaps Ned still loses his head, but I like the idea he managed to avoid becoming hand of the king and thus was safely in Winterfell at the time.

Perhaps Stannis declares himself as king, but perhaps Alys helps to mend fences between the younger Baratheon brothers. This involves visits to Dragonstone - and the discovery (via dragon egg, a very similar looking portrait, a purple-eyed child, &c) that Alys might have a claim to the Iron Throne.

And so the War of Five Kings becomes a war of two kings (Joffrey and Balon) and a queen.

Bonuses include: 1) Ned not revealing Alys' birthparents until long after she guessed it by other means. This should be an awkward, uncomfortable conversation that Alys by no means makes easy on her uncle followed by some screaming (Alys has a lot of built up anger and resentment about her treatment at Winterfell, however good she might have had it compared to other bastards) and lots of tears; 2) a cache of dragon eggs at Dragonstone, including one that hatches into a dragon that looks completely black except under certain lights, where her scales shine deep purple; and 3) Loras, quite unexpectedly, finding a BFF in his lover's Northern wife. Their relationship should be reminiscent of Kirk and Spock, and at least twice a week Renly should have cause to bemoan the fact his wife and boyfriend get along better than he does with either of them.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More Terrible Fic Ideas

#plot bunny #fic ideas #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #got #asoiaf #female jon snow #renly baratheon #loras tyrell #renly x loras #jon snow is a targaryen

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charkyzombicorn · 2 years ago

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If Kuzan raised Luffy he would be a stoner, convince me otherwise.

NO U DON'T UNDERSTAND I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS

So Kuzan is Robin's dad already, pretty much.

So Luffy gets dropped on a nowhere Island except a traitor in the revolutionary army rats him out as Dragon's son. The marines, of course, freak out and call a buster call for the whole island. Who do they send? Kuzan.

Kuzan finds Luffy, an actual 1 year old baby child, and he can't just send Luffy on a boat because he's got mushy legs.

The reason they had the buster call tho? They don't know how old Dragon's son is supposed to be, just that he was on the island and he was male.

So Kuzan is like 'shit I can't just leave this kid to fend for himself' so he takes him, then tracks down Robin, who's 11 now, and is like 'hey so I can adopt u but u need to get really cool with a lot of shit really fast.'

Robin's immediately like 'yes' because she's been a street urchin for three years now and she's sick and tired of not being a kid. Kuzan shows Luffy and is like 'you're my niece, this is your brother, your mother was my sister and she died after traveling to [Luffy's island]. You're both torn up about it, I adopted you both. Roll with it.' and Robin's like 'This baby smiled at me once I will kill and die for him' and Kuzan's like 'I'll see if being in the military covers therapy okay? I don't even know if I have dental, settle down.'

So he manages to convince everyone because,,,

Robin: Kuzan-san I'm Egyptian, Luffy's Brazilian and you're black, are you sure they'll believe we're related?

Kuzan: You underestimate how racist the government is

So Luffy grows up with the best big sister ever, and they become pirates because if Kuzan teaches his kids one thing it's : 'for the love of God don't join the military'

#one piece #Kuzan doesn't want his kids to fix anything he just wants them to grow up okay #Luffy fixes the world anyway but Kuzan would have been proud of him either way because he's strong-willed and kind #Marine Dads AU #Dove dad au

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aquietwritingcorner · 8 months ago

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Help Them

Title: Help Them Day: Febuwhump 2024, Day 26 Prompt: Help Them Fandom: TMNT 2003 Word Count: 1399 Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Raphael Warning: NA Summary: Kevin Eastern has been on his patrol nearly seven years now, working with his partner Peter Lairdman, and he’s seen some crazy stuff. Yet somehow, coming face to face with a turtle man that’s trying to keep a wall from collapsing on some citizens is still pretty high up there. Notes: Why yes, I did take those two cops we see all the time in 2003, that are supposed to be representations of Eastman and Laird and give them slightly different names because I could. It’s fun! ff.net || AO3

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Help Them

Kevin Eastern had seen a lot a lot of strange things in his time as a cop. Over the past seven or so years, he’d seen alien invasions, zombie apocalypses, dragons, and a million smaller things that just added up. It was to the point that even seeing superheroes had become unimpressive. He was beginning to understand his partner’s comment of “Pfft, rookie,” that first night, when some little green men in costumes had thrown money at them from an armored car. He wouldn’t blink twice if that happened to him now.

And yet, somehow, he still hadn’t expected to find himself face to face with a little green man who was seemingly holding up a wall to keep it from falling on people.

That was the problem with natural disasters in a city like this. There was too much to fall and too many people to get injured. Sure, out in the country you’d get more trees and stuff falling, but it was more likely to be property damage and not people in danger. Here, now, there were people trapped and in danger, all thanks to what he was assuming was an earthquake.

He and his partner, Lairdman, had been on patrol when it happened. They’d immediately taken off to try to help people and get a grip on the situation as soon as the quake had been over. Going in slightly different directions, Eastern had heard cries of distress and headed straight for them. He’d come across a half-collapsed alleyway, with one large section of wall forming a bit of a cave area. There was an old woman, a boy, a woman, and a few other adults trapped under it. And above them all, braced against the wall, as if keeping it from coming down more, was a green man, a turtle man, with a red mask, who looked like he was throwing his all into keeping that wall from falling on them. He locked eyes with Eastern and grunted out one phrase.

“Help. Them.”

Eastern wasted no time.

Moving quickly, he threw himself into pulling the people out of there. Some of them were simply scared, but there were a couple who were pinned by debris. Eastern worked fast, some of the others helping him, as he moved some debris off of a man, freeing him, and helped others to move out. His partner showed up at some point, immediately lending a hand and not even commenting on the turtle man. Soon they were just down to the old woman, the kid, his mom, and the turtle man himself. The old woman, he discovered, was blind, and she had hurt her leg. Eastern moved to help her out.

“No, no!” she said. “What about Raphael?”

“I’ll be fine, Ms. M,” the creature said, strain in his voice, clearly not fine. “But you gotta get out of here.”

“We can’t leave you!” the boy shouted, clearly upset.

The turtle grunted. “Go with your mom, Tyler, and Ms. Morrison,” he said. “I can’t—uuungh—I can’t help myself and you. Go!”

“Please,” Eastern said to the three who were left. “We’ll come back for him, but we have to get you out here.”

That seemed to be enough to get them moving, and Eastern led them out, trying to get them to safety. Lairdman helped, taking the old woman, while Eastern escorted the boy and his mother out of the collapsing alleyway. Once he was sure they were safe, he turned around, intent on keeping his promise.

And then the ground rolled again.

Someone yelled “Aftershock!” and nearly everyone found themselves on the ground one way or another. Lairdman threw himself across the old woman, trying to protect her, and Eastern did the same for the boy and his mother. But they all watched in horror as what was left of the alley collapsed, burying the turtle creature.

The boy yelled, but it was lost in the sounds of the aftershock, and other yelling. Eastern held tightly on to him, only letting up when the aftershock seemed to have passed. He stared at the collapse. The turtle man was buried under that, now.

And then, suddenly, to his shock, there were three other turtle men there, appearing out of seemingly nowhere. They glanced back at the people, but their attention was focused on the collapse, and the other turtle man underneath it.

“Raph! Raph!” one with an orange mask was yelling.

“Donnie—what do we do?” the blue one asked.

The one with the purple mask—Donnie, presumably—was looking over the collapse with a critical, if somewhat panicked, eye. “Mikey, don’t get up there!” he snapped at the orange one, who immediately complied. “We don’t want to put extra pressure on it, if we can.” He pointed to a few areas. “We’ll need to start digging here and here and see if we can get to him.”

“Do you—do you think he’s okay?” the orange one said.

“Okay or not, we’re not leaving our brother buried there,” the blue one said, and immediately started working under the purple one’s direction.

For a moment, Eastern stared in disbelief at what he was seeing. These three turtle men working hard to try to rescue their fourth—one who had rescued all of these people, who could have easily just turned on him.

Eastern pushed to his feet.

He walked closer to the turtle men, and they froze, watching him carefully, warily.

“You said, here, right?” he said, and reached to help move a large piece of debris. The turtle men exchanged a look, but nodded and went back to work, Eastern helping them.

It was only seconds before he heard someone else say “Come on, let’s help them!” and soon everyone that could was doing what they could to help out. Piece by piece, bit by bit, they moved debris, clearing a path according to Donnie’s instructions. Within thirty minutes they had eyes on the red turtle man, Raphael, and within ten after that, there was enough room for someone to go in and get him.

Eastern volunteered.

Raphael had gotten lucky, and part of the collapsing wall had stayed together, enough to give him a small cave that he’d stayed safe in. He was hurt, that was true, but he wasn’t dead, and he was able to pull himself out, with only a little help from Eastern.

As soon as he was out, his brothers swarmed him, checking over him and talking over each other at once, even as the others around cheered. The boy, Tyler, ran to him, knocking into his legs and holding him tightly, and Ms. Morrison called out to him. Raphael tightened his hold on Eastern’s arm.

“Yeah, Ms. M, I’m good,” Raph called out, even as he reached down with his free hand to pat Tyler’s head. “I’ll be fine with a little rest.”

Donnie shot him a look, and Eastern had the feeling that Raphael wouldn’t be up and around for a while.

“Hey.” Raphael tugged on his arm, and Eastern turned his attention back to the turtle man. “Thanks. For helping them. And, you know, not shooting me on sight or something.”

Eastern gave him a bit of a smile. “Nah,” he said, “We help each other. Besides—with an accent like that, you’ve got to be a native, even if you aren’t human.”

Raphael laughed, and let go of Eastern’s arm, and Eastern moved back and away.

The blue one, Leo, turned to face the small group, and bowed to them, even as Donnie gave Raphael a more thorough look over.

“Thank you,” Leo said. “We couldn’t have gotten our brother free without your help.” He glanced at Donnie, who nodded, and Mikey reached out to take a hold of Raph. “We’re grateful,” Leo said. “But we’ll take it from here.”

As if on some unseen cue, the four of them faded back into the shadows, disappearing.

Lairdman came up beside Eastern, staring at where the turtle men had been. “Huh,” he said, and then clapped Eastern on the back. “Welp, let’s keep going. Lots of other people to help. I’m sure we’ll see them around again.”

Eastern nodded and took one last glance before turning to go. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m sure we will.”

And who knew? Maybe they’d have another chance to help them, if they could.

#Febuwhump2024 #FebuwhumpDay26 #TMNT #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt raphael #tmnt minor characters #tmnt outside perspective #tmnt fan fiction #tmnt fanfic

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