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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months ago

Text

Dirty Work 49

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: friday... just eight more hours of work

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The world trickles back into existence as it shifts around you. A jarring collison has you groaning as your body slides on the floor, just a few inches. You grumble and sit up, back to the door as it's once more pushed from the other side.

You crawl out of way as Loki enters. You stand, wobbly with fatigue, and face him. He snaps the door shut, blocking it with his lithe figure as he looks at you.

“Pet, what are you doing sleeping on the floor?” He reprimands.

You clear your throat and rub your cheek, “waiting for you–”

“Don't,” he warns tersely, “you will not guilt me.”

“I wasn't,” you pout, “I only… never mind.”

You go to the bed and slip under the blankets. You're too tired and hurt and confused. Sleep doesn't help, it only makes it worse. Every time you close your eyes, you hear Thor's sinister timbre and his demeaning words. You feel his weight on you, suffocating you.

You hear Loki moving around the room. You expect him to come to bed but his footfalls trail into the bathroom. The faucet cranks loudly followed by the splashing of water on porcelain.

You turn onto your back and look at the open door to the bathroom. You stare, waiting. Still he does not emerge. You sit up as your eyes drift over. You should leave it, just for the night. It's late and you're both exhausted.

You hang your legs over the side of the bed and push the blankets away. You get up and pad over to the door, keeping close to the wall. You turn the handle, twisting cautiously as you hold your breath.

You stop and wait. He's not coming. You hear him sighing and muttering.

You leave the door ajar and tiptoe out into the hall. You won't go far, you just want to walk around, to get the kinks out of your muscles. Just to feel that tiny tug on your leash.

Your feet carry you downstairs without a thought. You go to the french doors and peer out through the panes at the night. You flip the latch back and ease the door inward. You breathe in the cool but fresh air.

You let it wash over you, trying to cleanse yourself as you shiver. It would all be easier if you could just say it aloud. If he would just listen.

You hear footsteps on the stairs. You quickly shut the door and back away, hiding in the shadows as the moonlight peers in. Loki rushes over and searches through the glass. He grips the handle but before he can rip the door open, you sniff and catch his attention.

“I was just looking,” you murmur.

“Why would you scare me like that?” He snaps and grabs you by the shoulders, wrenching you away from the wall.

“I didn't mean too,” you whimper, “I just wanted to stretch my legs–”

“You cannot sneak off. You cannot,” he shakes you, “I…” he bites down on his thoughts before they can bubble over. “I only mean well for you, pet.”

“You're hurting me,” you whisper as you touch his wrists, “please–”

“I…” he loosens his grip and brushes his hands down your arms, “come back to bed.”

You try to see him through the dark. With his back to the silver moon, you only find a featureless silhouette. You reach to slip his hand from your arm and cling to him. You know it's better to appease him.

You pull him away from the door and turn back through the silent house. You should’ve known better. You’re not even sure why you wandered that far. Maybe just to see anything but those same four walls.

You go back upstairs and he lets you go as you enter the bedroom. He turns to shut the door firmly, dragging his hand down the wood. You look away. He has become your warden.

You climb into bed and pull the rumpled blankets over yourself once more. He nestles in next to you as you lay back against the pillows. He kisses your shoulder, a surprisingly gentle gesture. Had he not lectured you hours before for talking too much?

The pendulum of his moods has you swinging just as wildly.

“Pet, I only want to keep you safe, you understand, don’t you?” He tickles along your arm as his gaze sears into you. You stare at the ceiling restraining your exasperation.

“I do but… there’s a gate, you don’t need to keep me in just this room, do you?”

He doesn’t respond as he rubs your arm. He shimmies closer and stretches his arm across you. He holds you close as he sighs.

“I’m tired,” he says and presses his chin to the top of your head. The conversation’s over. Again.

✨

You drift into a black void. At first, there are no dreams. You are nothing, you feel nothing. A rare taste of peace before the fractured visions break through the blackness.

Trees, towering above you, leaves like curtains above, blocking out the sky, casting darkness all around you. You’re running, gasping for breath as the thunder rolls behind you. You hear it, you feel it, shaking the earth beneath your bare feet.

You glance down at your white dress, streaked in blood and mud. You stumble forward, shielding yourself with your arms as the brush scratches your flesh. Your feet slip and slide and tendrils coil around your limbs. The vines wrap around you, restraining you as the storm cracks above you.

The thunder peters out to grizzly laughter. A burly figure emerges from the umbrous space between the thick trumps. It’s him; Thor. His blue eyes glow as the cut across his cheek leaks and he opens and closes his massive fists. He comes closer, until he’s right before you.

He raises his hands to your throat and circles his fingers around it. You squeak as he squeezes, tighter and tighter. He chokes you until your vision speckles. Your eyes lull back in your skull and when you can breathe again, you’re sarong up at the leaves, fragments of the sky peeking between the foliage.

There’s a tremor beneath you. As if the earth moves. Then you realise, it’s you. You’re moving. There’s something atop you. Someone. Smothering you. Rutting into you as your bones split and your insides burn like acid.

You smell wet mud and pine, a hint of sweat seeping into your lungs. Thor’s beastly growls crawl over your skin as he bites into your throat, pinching until you shriek. He holds you down as he snaps his pelvis against you, threatening to break you in half.

Your eyes open and a shadow hovers over you. Reality slowly sets in as you stare at the ceiling, damp breaths puffing over your face. Your chest binds and you choke on your own breath. It’s real.

He purrs as he kisses your cheek, holding himself above you as he lays between your legs. His hand is buried against your pelvis as he pets you, kissing you all over your face and neck. You whimper and hit his shoulders. He’s gentle but unyielding. Your head is pounding and your body aches.

The panic flows up from your stomach and a sheet of ice covers your body. You blink. What’s happening? It’s him. It must be him. How did he get to you?

“Stop!” You cry out, “stop!”

“Pet?” The warped voice calls to you.

“No, Thor! No, please, don’t– don’t hurt me!” You beg as your eyes narrow on the figure over you.

To your surprise, he stops. He lifts himself stiffly from you and a long arm reaches over to pull on the chain of the lamp. The bulb illuminates Loki’s features, his face wrought in terror that mirrors your own. You thought…

“I’m sorry, I—”

“You think I am like him? Like that monster–”

“No, no, I was dreaming, and—”

“Pet, you were moaning, you… I thought you were—” he swallows and pushes himself off you altogether, “awake.”

He sits up and sings his legs over the edge of the bed. He bends forward and holds his head. You don’t move as you watch him. You’re mortified. The bed jostles as he stands abruptly.

“I am not like him,” he snarls, “pet, you know– I… you begged me for more. You were crying out my name and now you treat me as some monster.”

You sit up, lip trembling, “no, I was confused. I was asleep, I didn’t know–” You scramble to the foot of the bed as he strides away.

“You think I would let him get his hands on you again? You wander off and tell me you are safe and yet here you are, screaming,” he huffs as he turns on you, “as if I haven’t taken every measure to keep you safe and you override them, then tell me not to worry.”

“Loki, please, just… I don’t need locked doors, I need you to talk to me,” you stand and rush towards him, latching onto his arm, “I need you to hear me.”

“I heard you,” he shudders as he looks down at your touch, “you called me by his name.”

“Because… because…” you suck in a shaky breath as a sob threatens to spill over, “because you won’t listen–”

“No, you will not listen. Hm? You will not obey me and that is all I’ve ever asked of you. You will not stay where I can keep you safe. From him,” he hisses, “you will not hear me when I tell you it is for your own good. You do not see what I do for you.”

He shakes his head and rips free of your clutch, “I took you away from that ogre you called a father. By my measure, no one ever bothered to do so much. Not even a birthday cake.

"I have given you a home, a purpose. I was a fool, I put you in harm’s way, I acknowledge my errors,” he tilts his head and curls his lips, “but I saved you. I found you and I made sure he did not hurt you. I have kept you safe which you cannot say about anyone else.”

“Loki, don’t,” you wilt as your heart pangs. He is right but that doesn't mean it doesn’t hurt.

“If you hadn’t run away, if you had trusted me,” he accuses as he wags his finger at you. “To think I would ever want her again. After all I’ve done for you, I would not throw those efforts away.”

Your lip quivers and you recoil, pressing your hands above your heart, “no, you wouldn’t throw away all you’ve done, but what about me? I am what you call you, am I not? A pet? A stray you picked up off the street.”

“Perhaps, for you have become rabid,” he retorts.

You flinch and take a step back. You curl your fingers through each other, keeping your hands over your chest. Your tears spill over as you push your lower lip out and croak his name. You shake your head, trying to ward off your despair but it only rains down harder. You sob and cover your mouth.

His brow twitches and his cheek tics. You see the doubt colour his eyes. He reaches for you, “pet, I–”

You back away and turn your back to him, “leave me alone.”

“I didn’t mean… we are both very emotional,” he pleads as his fingertips graze your shoulder.

You shrug him off and keep ahead of him, “no, no, don’t touch me,” you hurry towards the bathroom.

“Pet–”

“I am not your pet!” You spin as you enter the bathroom and he staggers just a foot away, stunned by the swell of your anger, “I am nothing. Just as you say, my own father couldn’t love me.”

“I didn’t–”

You slam the door and throw yourself against it. You flick the lock into place and lean against the wood, heaving painfully as your sadness rattles through you. He slaps the door from the other side and says your name.

“You did!” You holler through, “you said what you meant. You told… the truth.” You sink down to your knees, crumpling onto the tile, “so leave me alone. What do you care anyway?”

He repeats your name, softer and you hear him slide down the outside of the door, “I care… if I didn’t…”

“Be quiet,” you murmur in exhaustion.

He abides, just for a moment before he speaks again, “I will be here… when you require me.”

You lay in a heap. Weak and worn out. You just want him to leave you alone. If he can’t let you free, then he can go away. You don’t need him to remind you that he’s all you have.

You gulp as sobs force their way up your throat. You cry until your head pulses and your throat is hoarse. You cry until you are drained dry. You’re left bleary and broken.

Walpurgisnacht is supposed to mark a new beginning but everything is just as bleak as it always was.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dirty work #series #dark fic #dark!fic #marvel #mcu #au #maid au #avengers

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dynamites-ao3 · 1 year ago

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An Exigency

Sub-Zero (Bi-Han) x f! Reader

explicit ; 7k words ; post-MK1 ending, aphrodisiac-addled pwp

Tasked to investigate Shang Tsung’s laboratory for his whereabouts, you find you are not alone in the endeavour. You should have known better.

Or, a mission goes awry.

read here on ao3! or read under the cut.

(a/n: forewarning for nonconsensual elements.)

You had not spoken aloud since you left the city gates.

It was silence borne out of practicality for the most part - not only were you traveling alone but the persisting heat had willed you to preserve your breath. Though it had gotten better once you passed the stretch of desert, the forest’s humidity was no less a pain.

Should this be all a test of your flesh and spirit, it is certainly an arduous one. Every so often, sweat trickles into your stinging eyes. You check and re-check your pack every hour, even if you hadn’t touched it since. Your blinks are slower, or maybe it just feels that way.

At any rate by the time you reach the laboratory, a dark mar in the idle forest, your mind is far away, dreaming of chalices of ice-cold water; and fully, entirely unable to appreciate the vast land you’ve trekked under the order of Lord Liu Kang.

Only now does it strike you: you should have asked him to create a portal. It would have been so aggravatingly easy.

And you’re only half-lucid when you finish securing its perimeters. It’s more of a tedious affair than you anticipated but for what it was worth, you’re content in doing it by yourself. You all but rush in once you were confident there hadn’t been any indication that a certain sorcerer had come back for his supplies.

Shang Tsung’s laboratory, entirely deserted, exists like a picture: it possessed still the facade of a living machine, but the absence of its quasi-scientist owner kept it frozen in time. Had you not known any better, you could easily imagine in your mind’s eye someone returning for their scribbled notes at any given second. You had to concede that Shang Tsung maintained the upper floors with impressive care, no matter its artificiality.

And for all that you endured out in the elements - best yet, the room feels like paradise on your skin. Cool, dry air, if a bit dusty. If you just ignored the sharp chemical odor that also pervaded the room, the sensation was almost entirely pleasant.

Where the smell originated, you were unsure: there were innumerable flasks on the wall shelves that contained liquid behind its amber glass.

Curious, you lean over the desk and flick absentmindedly at a plugged flask with a half-gaseous, half-liquid residue in it, watching the dark particles convect up the neck. Lord Liu Kang ought to have sent a scholar, you think: they’d know how to separate the valuable information from the drivel.

Even an imperial mage would be familiar with some of this writing scattered across the table. Still, with the discord done unto the Shirai Ryu and disappearance of Shang Tsung’s allies, having to outsource in other measures was a fair choice to make - just not one you would have made.

With your head lowered, you take stock of the papers, taking any that looked of import and folding them away into your pack on the ground. This carries on until goosebumps crop up on your arms, a particularly chilling wind sailing up your skin. The room had sapped all warmth from your body.

You almost don’t even realise the atmosphere has changed, the air growing heavier: only when you pull back far enough to witness your visible breath wisp into the air.

Not merely sheltered from the blistering heat outside any longer -

You’re��cold.

In a matter of milliseconds, you turn your cheek and something sings through the air right over the bridge of your nose, freezing your eyelashes. It drives right through the window, leaving a splintered hole in the glass pane in the wake.

Your body moves on instinct, rolling to the side. You keep from flinching even as a shard of glass - or was it ice? - scrapes your cheekbone.

You hold a gasp back in your mouth, willing the stinging to subside. By the stairs, an approaching silhouette sharpens against the cloud of pale frost. You’re slowed down by shock, disbelieving in your sight.

He shouldn’t be here, not in Outerrealm. Well, you think miserably. Lord Liu Kang isn’t going to like hearing about this encounter. That is, if you survive it.

“Stand down,” Sub-Zero barks, a guttural demand cutting through the air. In his palm he draws together another stake. It comes together with a splintering crunch, like the collapse of hard plastic.

It doesn’t make sense - you’re unsure what sorcery, what technology he’s equipped to sneak into this realm without alerting the empire. Though you don’t have time to hypothesise on this as he draws his arm back and jets the projectile your way. You push away from the desks and onto your knees, tucking in your shoulder just in time for the frozen stake to pierce through wood to your left, embedding in a drawer.

Your breath is bedraggled, the frozen air hard on your lungs. Still, you ask, “Where is Shang Tsung? Earthrealm?”

Sub-Zero’s eyebrows come together; you can easily imagine a snarl under his mask. “Like I’d tell you even if I knew.”

If he knew?

He hadn’t seemed concerned with divulging this, which demanded further questions. If he knew not of Shang Tsung’s location and spoke truthfully, then it was clear he had the same objective as you here. Before you could act on this understanding, his gaze slides away, focused on something on the ground. You follow its trajectory, dread burrowing in your stomach when you realise he’s looking towards your pack where you’ve tucked away the majority of Shang Tsung’s discarded notes. Half-open, loose corners of scrolls peek out the top.

Under no circumstances were the Lin Kuei to possess those. Should there be something important, you couldn’t even fathom how Sub-Zero might exploit it for his own ambitions.

Forcing yourself to your feet, you manage to utter, “Fine. But there is nothing here for you. Leave!”

He doesn’t turn his head but his dark gaze flits back to you. You refuse to let yourself be intimidated by his vitriol - you are better than that. Although you’ve once before met Sub-Zero and his brother in the capital, you doubt any familiarity would give you a boon to this encounter. It was better that he did not recognise you, even, as it would make subduing him all the more professional.

You can only hope you are choosing correctly to not kill him outright, for that ought to be the choice of the Shirai Ryu. He doesn’t seem to be so self-limiting however, what with the way his hands twitch. It was clear now if it hadn’t been before: he was not to let you leave alive and with your stolen intel.

“You dare tell me what to do?” he says, rounding on you.

You warn, “They will stop at nothing to capture you.”

“They? Of whom do you speak - the empress or Liu Kang? Both?” He makes a condescending noise, a wisp of pale breath seeping out his mask. “You’re a lackey of theirs. Of course.”

You exhale low. You need only to grab your pack and make it down the stairs past him. You were positive you could shake him in the forest, even if he had stationed more of his assassins around the building.

“You’re a fool,” he is saying but you are only half-listening, mind racing in a multitude of directions. You could afford a fight, one that would only impede him but it would not be feasible in this space given your arsenal.

Leaving without one would, of course, be ideal but it seemed almost exponentially worse to be later ambushed in the scorching outdoors.

Perhaps you should not have come alone, after all. It’s too late now. Over the course of your perusals, you’ve familiarised yourself with your surroundings, which were really full of unidentifiable baubles. Any real weapon was out of reach from where you stood, and you’d do anything to avoid touching the various scalpels on the desk - gods know where they’ve been.

Your options were whittled down to pure martial arts - which was fine, really. But you could appreciate an advantage. So you don’t think too hard at what exactly you’re grabbing as you lean back, fingers in search of something sizeable.

They clutch around a smooth glass bottle neck that feels somewhat heavy, as though partially filled with something, and the choice is made for you.

The bottle is an amber blur in the air once it leaves your hand. With a narrow arch, you swing a rogue bottle aimed at his head, in dire hopes it would combust grand enough for you to flee.

As it turns out, nothing of the sort happens. Of course not.

With an unnatural deftness, Sub-Zero crosses his forearms, steeling them in ice just as the bottle makes impact. Though the glass explodes, it is hardly to the extent you would have liked. They merely drop in shards to the ground by his feet, nary a cut made. A viscous and inky liquid concurrently splatters his gauntlets and across his face, not even enough to blind him. He grunts.

Gasoline? It didn’t seem likely, as you would have smelt its pungency if it was. Unfortunate, of course. Lighting him on fire would certainly be a fast solution to this problem.

For a moment, Sub-Zero stills. He wipes a droplet from above his brow and inspects the dark stain between his fingertips; when nothing happens, he growls, snapping back to you.

“Pathetic,” he spits out, seething.

Sub-Zero launches himself at you. On the defensive, you slip out the way, narrowly missing the sheet of ice that would have trapped you in place behind you. You prowl one another in a circle. You’ve angered him and you could only hope this would make him sloppy.

As you soon discover, he is terribly ferocious. A performance befitting a clan grandmaster. You spend most of the engagement on the defensive, narrowly avoiding being split in half by axes and maces. Every time an ice-formed weapon swipes by your head, needles of ice spray you, buffeting your skin painfully.

No longer than a few minutes in, you think you should just go ahead and kill him after all. Jumping around like this only serves to tire you out. The blade you carry burns where you’ve hidden it in your jacket uniform. You surge forward, not yet unsheathing it as to surprise him, but your boots skid.

What - ?

When had he frozen the ground…?

You miss your mark by what must have been a finger’s width, your energy spent on balancing yourself instead. As you grapple for that stability, he closes the distance.

With one large hand on the base of your throat, you are brought hard to the ground, pretty much thrown. You wince when the back of your skull taps the rug below you but that is hardly a concern with the weight on your entire body, Sub-Zero boxing you in from above.

He is everywhere and all that you can see, his large body hovering yours and his sash dropping onto your torso.

The metal of his gauntlets are streaked with the unidentifiable dark liquid and it smears you below the chin, cold and wet like blood.

Out of sight, one of his knees dig painfully into your thigh but you do not allow him a single cry of pain. Spots dance in your vision and although the pressure on the sides of your throat grows, fogging your brain, he isn’t putting in nearly enough to end you. When you wheeze, you barely feel it pass through your lips.

It is a despicable move. You thought him merciless, indeed, but you hadn’t thought him cruel. You grab at his wrist, staunchly attempting to pull him off but with gravity on his side, it was a near futile effort. He watches with acuteness as your chest lifts and drops unevenly. “Get off,” you grit out.

He leans so close you could see his blown-out pupils quivering. Then, he speaks.

“I know you.”

For a flash, you tense. “No,” you say. “But I know you.”

“Liar.”

Unblinking and unfazed, he lifts his free hand and in one rough motion, rips off your mask. He throws it to the side, not bothering to look at where it lands and immediately you scowl.

His eyes thin - you realise he’s strangely humoured and sneering.

“How dare you,” you say.

Though he doesn’t seem to hear you, his gaze is concentrated on your mouth. “I knew it. One of Liu Kang’s lapdogs from the academy. How honoured you must feel, to be sent on a suicide mission by him.”

There is nothing to be gained in entertaining his goading. Still, something inflates inside you. “He’s done nothing of the sort. His rule is just.”

“You must mean restrictive.”

“You will not blame your greed for power on him!”

He blinks at your anger, his visage relaxing ever so slightly though no less blazing. “Your fealty is commendable,” he says. “How did he train you?”

“Fuck you.” Like a dance, you lift forward and he shoves your shoulder back against the floor harshly.

“What do you anticipate as a reward, should you return successfully?” he asks, ignoring you. “Acknowledgement, praise? That he’ll tell you ‘good work’ and bend you over the nearest table?”

The image is so violently crass, you shudder. His eyes glitter, delighting in your discomfort. The mouth on this man - if you could move, you had half the mind to sock him in the jaw as hard as you could.

It’s hard to believe that someone this provoking was once a close confidante to Lord Liu Kang. And having only ever met Sub-Zero during conferences with Lord Liu Kang present, you felt appalled just hearing this vulgarity uttered with little fanfare. Unexpected was an understatement.

Mind games! Mind games, of which you never thought him capable.

You grimace, glaring up at him through your eyelashes. “I suggest you keep your fantasies to yourself, unless you speak from experience.”

A dark scoff leaves him before it is cut out abruptly. All of sudden, Sub-Zero blinks and breaks eye contact, dipping his head to the side and although you’re unsure what he is looking at exactly, you don’t care to enquire.

At a glacially-slow pace, you try to wiggle free the fabric of your pants from where he kneeled. As soon as you could bring your own knee up, you would have leverage for a number of things that could put distance between you and him. To distract him from your legs, you continue to claw at his arm. “What is this wait, Sub-Zero? Are you going to kill me or what?”

A deep crease forms between his eyebrows as he regains his focus. “You,” he mutters accusatively. “You did something to me.”

You frown. “What?”

He makes another low noise that you vaguely register as a chuckle. “You monks are all the same, convinced your training gives you supreme dominion over the body. Wrong, of course. The Lin Kuei will still best you in that respect, as with all.”

“Your pride will be your clan’s downfall.”

“Wrong, again. And your little distractions are child’s play.”

Then, Sub-Zero looks down. As best you could, you follow the trajectory to your own fidgeting legs. He knows. The window to react and wiggle free shrinks into nothing but before you can plan contingently, he moves.

Without warning, the knee that was on your thigh lifts - and nestles hard instead right in the apex of your legs.

It’s like all the air leaves your chest in one fell swoop.

This time, you do groan aloud, noises vibrating under his palm. And, worst of all, it is a shameful sound, mortifyingly loud in the spacious room and ringing in your own ears. Oh, gods. Your eyes snap open, the unexpected pressure not excruciating but stimulating, enough to have you jolting out of your skin.

It must be an accident, because there is no way, no reason why Sub-Zero should be threatening you like this. It must be - isn’t it?

Dumbfounded beyond belief, you go slack; it no longer figured a good idea to knee him in the crotch. For the first time, you look at him directly and see beyond his feverish eyes and the streaks of black residue flecked across his skin from the liquid you threw. In fact, you find his ears are flushed pink, and have been pink for some time now.

Something inside you awakens. “What - what the hell do you think you’re doing?” you snap, now scrambling on the floor with a renewed determination. Arching your back to put some distance between his legs and yours comes at a terrible price: your chest lifts up to his. Sub-Zero, fully cognisant of the motion, says nothing. “Unhand me!”

“Had you been smarter and stood down when I ordered it, none of this would be necessary,” he tells you.

You found yourself baring your teeth. “I will not be humiliated by you.”

This captures his attention in particular, his gaze morphing and settling into something indescribable. For a beat, you could almost consider it something as gentle as curiosity - then, it disappears as quickly as it came.

In a cool voice, he says, “Look at me.”

When you ignore him, the pressure on your throat disappears, replaced by a new force on your jaw. His hand from under your chin yanks your head straight. The hand holding your wrists down tightens its grasp.

“Look at me,” he repeats. He grinds his knee between your legs again, this time with malicious purpose.

Be it distress or arousal mounting in your flesh, a soft gasp escapes your mouth. You’re desperate for relief and with him getting you this far but then stopping, you had to take measures into your own hands. Your hips roll against him and you’re only vaguely aware of your body moving, as if you aren’t even in control anymore. You drag yourself on his leg once more and for what it’s worth, you appreciate him staying so still.

There’s a pause, before -

“Humiliate?” he echoes you, intonation unbearably slow. “I could not humiliate you any more than you have already done to yourself.”

You can say nothing in protest. Your insides thrum, wanting to come so badly they ache. You should feel terrible, having debased yourself with an enemy but your brain is too hazy to think ethically. What a descent you watched yourself fall into.

You were not in control of yourself, that much you could deduce for yourself. It ought to take much more than this to distract you and yet -

When his hands relaxed, affording you space, you still had not shoved him square in the chest even though it would have been so easy. Something was terribly wrong with you. You should gut him alive for what he’s done to you.

Nonplussed, Sub-Zero rearranges himself on top of you, pulling his knees in and sitting straddle on your leg. He rests on one forearm parallel to the floor as the other arm trails down your abdomen.

The cold leather and metal of his gauntlets slip under your hem and you are much too aware of how his fingers dig into your flesh, groping and demanding. What should feel brutalising and repugnant is instead entrancing. There is nothing else to think about from below him, because if it wasn’t his touch you concentrated on it would have been his equally penetrative gaze that which never leaves your face.

Every soft shift in your expression is noticed, internalised, and responded to accordingly. When his rough fingertips find the swell of your breasts, your diaphragm unsteadies and there is no way he does not feel the tightening of your stomach under the skin. He rolls your nipple under a callused thumb until it hardens, your bra shoved aside. Nothing you do is unseen.

For once, he says nothing grating but that is hardly a relief - you can feel his domination over your flesh and spirit through physical means alone.

It was impossible to avert your eyes from the truth: you were letting him take control of you.

Your weakness was worthy of condemnation. The odes you chanted at the academy - limiting yourself from carnal pleasures in the pursuit of the ethereal - were as solid as steam slipping through your fingers. As Sub-Zero touched you, the heat of his palm skimming up and down your navel, you could not cohesively pull any dictum of asceticism into the forefront of your mind. You need not absolute chastity, but even a modicum of self-preservation for your own pride was adequate enough to absolve your acts, present or those soon to come.

As it were, you possessed neither. Something else entirely was unfurling inside you, ravenous and anxious, encouraging you devilishly to deplete yourself.

As though somehow able to hear your internal conflict, Sub-Zero speaks. “It is a fool’s errand to deny one’s truths,” he calmly says.

Truths? What truths? His affliction had spread to you and he was blaming you for it. Mindless carnality was not in your nature, and if it wasn’t his, then you had… then you had unwittingly poisoned yourself. And him.

You grimace, thinking he is trying to assuage you in your position, console you through your own guilty arousal. “There must be another way,” you say, but then he sighs through his nose and his palm grows ice-cold in a flash. Pushing under your waistband, he cups your mound and you gasp, the frigid sensation sparking up your spine.

“Fuck!” you hiss, splaying a hand on his chest and pushing but there is no force. Your other hand comes around his wrist; he doesn’t budge. Rather, his fingertips press in-between your folds, testing your limits.

“What were you saying,” he says although the edge in his voice indicates it is rhetorical.

Your face scrunches as he continues to pet you. You begin to throb painfully, anticipating being properly filled. “Stop that. You’re going to - ”

“Give you frostbite? No. There would be no point in that,” he says, flatly and hardly convincing, “I still want you to feel me.”

He didn’t seem to care about breaking you off necessarily but rather in pursuing his own pleasure, he liked making you squirm in obscene desperation.

His solid metal gauntlets press against your front as his exploratory hand slips further between your thighs. Though you’ve clamped your knees together, his own movements don’t seem impeded; you gasp for the second time, grasping the air, as he enters two cold fingers into you and pushes against your walls.

It is a strange sensation. You loathe it and yet you’re so wet, so much so that he takes off his gauntlets intermittently before returning. When he cupped you again, your hips rolled for him, lifting off the floor. It’s so lowly of you, to be done in by an erotic touch.

As with yours, his patience seemed to be thinning.

You blink and his fingers are hooked at your waistband, pulling your pants and underwear to your knees; you blink again and his weight disappears. On his haunches before you, you watch in silence - voyeuristically - as he pries loose his sash, his own pleated pants sliding halfway down to his solid thighs. Although the front of his outer jacket fell long enough that it covered his front, even the slightest sight of his exposed body made you shiver.

By now, the drug had dried on your skin; it came off in flecks as you rubbed your chin. “What the hell?” you mutter drunkenly, only half able to focus. The other half went into spectation, making certain he didn’t make any sudden moves. For this reason, you could not be sure whether the tingling you felt was real or not.

You try to vocalise this to Sub-Zero, who was splashed much more heavily than you, but he wasn’t listening. “The bottle… I think - ”

“Shut up. Move.”

Although he’s the one who put forth the command, he decidedly manipulates your body himself. Without so much another word, he puts you on your stomach, your bare thighs against the rough floor rug. You don’t fight back because… well, why don’t you fight back, actually? Cognisant of your own compliancy, this question stumps you.

Astride your legs, you feel the heaviness of his cock prod your skin. With one hand, Sub-Zero spreads your cheeks apart and guides himself into the cleft with his other. There are no warnings besides a husky sigh when he broaches you, the head of his cock stretching you out so luxuriantly. Mercilessly, he drives into you half-way and the speedy intrusion rips a filthy moan from your mouth.

Pragmatically, you know you should feel some discomfort by nature of anatomy at least - but none of that is a reality for now. He slides the rest of the way in snug, hips flush against your backside, arms straight supporting himself on either side of you. You are so wet that all you feel is full.

You almost wished it was painful, especially when he begins to move, inching his pelvis away from your rear and coming close to pulling out entirely but it really never does. It’s a disquieting revelation.

If it were painful, you would have reason to rue this entire encounter as a nightmare. Worse, you’ve never felt so comfortable in your life, with your forearms on the hard ground and being taken by a man who has half the mind to kill you after this.

“Fuck,” he says, dragging out the syllable. You had to agree with the sentiment.

He gives a few perfunctory thrusts before finding a sustainable rhythm. The carefulness he exhibits dissipates into thin air once he does, his first real thrust almost pushing your body forward by sheer force alone. It knocks the air out of you and you wiggle to establish yourself against the rug.

Apparently frustrated by your sliding forward, you feel large hands shove your shoulders down, smushing your cheek against the rug. You breathe hard through your nose, eyes rolling back in your skull.

Distantly, you hear a clatter of something hitting the ground in a haphazard fashion. Before you toss a look to the side, cold fingers find themselves back on the developing bruises on your neck, twisting your head back to look up at Sub-Zero instead. You only have a second to register that he has removed his mask before he compels you to his mouth.

As per his disposition, his kiss is equally as vicious; he does not let up until you’re dizzy and spent. It’s an awkward angle too, given his large stature, making you feel you’re about to drool out the corner of your mouth. You expected no less.

And he must have done something especially delirious to you because as he draws away, you find yourself already wanting him back, to violate you in every which way he could. He smells of incense and his stubble ghosts you. It is not enough to just feel Sub-Zero pulse inside you, you need to hear his faint huffs by your ear, to feel his tongue against yours -

“This is your doing,” he says, ticklish breath against your nape. He inhales deeply, his cold nose against your sensitive skin. “What was in that fluid?”

“I don’t know,” you cry out. So he was already aware. Then why did it feel like you were the only one objecting to its lures?

“More lies. You wanted this. For me to take you like a bitch in heat.”

“I didn’t know. I don’t know. If I did, this would never - I would never have… it’s affecting me, too - ”

He pulls off your backside, dragging his cock out. It slides onto your back thigh, leaving a wet glaze. “Turn over,” he demands, putting a hand on your hip and squeezing hard.

You do so because there is no alternative. Carefully and inspite of your lightheadedness, you roll onto your back, knees bent and shoes flat against the ground. He pragmatically removes one of your pant legs entirely off you, leaving the other still hanging, and it’s such a desperate, heated scrabble to get you further out of your clothes that at once, your heart quivers in your chest.

Unexpectedly, you find then that he doesn’t crawl on top to take you vis-a-vis this time, but rather he yanks you forward into his lap, your centre of balance going utterly wayside. You take his collar in fistfuls to counter the inertia. You see your reflection in the shine of his eyes and it is almost too intimate for you to handle.

“You wanted this,” he repeats. “So take it.”

In his lap and resting against your stomach is his erection, wet and shiny and flushed. It does not take a scholar to know what he wants - what you want. You swallow, and draw in.

His breathing is all you can hear as your hands spread out on his broad chest, sliding down. Two fingers hook at the junction point of his jacket and shakily, you pull it open. When he doesn’t move to stop you - or do anything for that matter - you undo the knots to his inner jackets as well. The jacket sides fall naturally to the sides, exposing his firm chest. He’s warm - you don’t know why that surprises you - and clean-shaven; and as you pass down his abdomen, feeling the jump of hard muscle under your palms, you remember yourself.

It feels almost embarrassing to appreciate his body, especially so since you were still covered up fully from the waist-up. Now, with him more exposed as well below you, odd emotions were in order, none of which you cared to examine.

You tear your hands away, missing the heat all the same. His heavy gaze on you doesn’t fetter. Still, at this point you were existing on borrowed time. You lift yourself on your knees and with a breath tampered in your lungs, you guide yourself down on him.

You watch him as he watches his cock disappear into you, his expression tight. There is a muscle visibly twitching in his jaw and though his palms are flat against the floor for support, his fingers are ever-roving and flexed, a moment away from grabbing your waist and taking lead. You settle onto him, the blunt head of his cock easing into you with a satisfying pressure.

“Go ahead,” he says - or rather, commands, with a razor-like edge of competition. “Get yourself off.”

The remark is so unnatural you inadvertently shoot him a bewildered look. It was difficult to take it face value, after all: you had no capacity to believe he meant it charitably. But when he counters your bewilderment with a subtle lift of an eyebrow, inciting you to question him aloud, you end up backing off.

You don’t need to be asked twice. An orgasm to rebalance your hormones that were thrown off by that drug seemed logical in any case, but before you even get to moving, he hums, his head tilted to the side, the expanse of his throat appearing particularly inviting.

“What?” you have to ask, bracing yourself in suspicion.

“You listen so well.” He purses his lips, clearly in mock-thought of what to say next, before, “Liu Kang wastes your talents.”

Your whole face flushes at the insulting implication that doing this was your talent. But what should take you right out of the mood, has you instead clenching down around him, agitation channeled elsewhere. The sudden pressure makes him grunt, a hand pulling forward to clutch your waist.

“I am no more in control than you are,” you say and you lift yourself on your knees. His cock drags slipperily against your walls.

Even so, riding him is no easy feat.

The angle forces you to take his full length every time you lower and though his thick legs cushion you, you have an inkling that he presses right up to your cervix. It doesn’t hurt thankfully but it feels a lot, certainly much more than before. You think he’s probably getting more out of this than you given the flashes of unsteadiness that cross his face when you least expect it, until you roll your hips at a different angle and it makes your calves tremble, to the extent your hands whip out and land on his shoulders for support.

You take one hand off and slide it down your front, resting at the crux of your legs. You’re close now, and you’re convinced that a little attention towards your clit will get you the rest of the way there. Abruptly then, he smacks the back of your hand away, the lasting prickles of pain on your knuckles startling you.

“No,” Sub-Zero says. “Don’t you fucking touch yourself.” You glare at him, having no interest in complying. But, almost like consolation, he raises his hips and claps against you in perfect tandem as you’re coming down. You pull your hand away, albeit begrudgingly.

His energetic thrusts back… it helps round off the ache, a little, you must admit. You possess a perfect view of his core muscles flexing every time your pelvises connect; it is impossible to not be in awe of his stamina.

You fear that it is this notion, the recognition of his pure strength and endurance, that eventually turns erotic for you. A tension builds in your lower stomach, all endeavours pointed to quelling the heat. You’re pawing him, entranced and stupefied, when you exert the last of your might to will his hips to a standstill.

Resting your full weight on his lap and rocking back-and-forth gently, you come powerfully. Your toes curl at the full-body sensation that tickles every nerve; even he cannot deny himself a ragged groan upon feeling your convulsions wrap around him, contracting and vibrating on his cock.

He shifts under you, and you let him remove the rest of your uniform, tossing it somewhere to the side. He wraps a thick arm around your waist, dragging you flush against him. You wriggle, grimacing, his cock still rigid inside you. Without much effort at all, he tucks his legs under himself, forcing you to anchor yourself with hands linked behind his neck lest risk falling backwards. It brings your faces closer together than anticipated and as you try again to find your footing and weasel out, his arm tightens.

His opposite hand grips your ass, rooting you to him as deeply as possible. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growls by your temple. “I didn’t say we were done.”

You don’t get an opportunity to bemoan, still twitching in his lap. It should be both impressive and frightening, how quickly he pins you down exactly where he wants you, but you’re too dazed to appreciate it. You loosely hang off him as he crushes you, chest to chest, your soft breasts against his pecs, your hands on his nape and neck. Where you and him are still connected is a complete and utter wet mess, fluids running down the cleft of your ass and onto the damp rug beneath. Every slap of skin has a sticky noise following in its immediate wake.

His head ducks into the corner between your shoulder and neck. With your chin beside his hair, you inhale the scent of warm, clean incense. You get the debilitating thought that this isn’t so bad. It’s not great either, given the circumstances, but after a while, his barraging into you was a pleasant sting.

You found you did want him to orgasm, with haste - genuinely. Just as you were beginning to think he was being predictable, Sub-Zero skates his teeth on your shoulder and bites, earning himself a cry. You don’t think much of it until he laves his tongue on the bite mark, and it actually stings - he must have drawn blood.

You lose it a little more this time.

“Oh, gods,” you begin to plead, your voice so strangled and wimpish it’s hard to believe it’s coming from you, “I can’t…”

His scoff is warm against your collarbone. Sub-Zero lifts his head: his hair is messy, his bun coming undone; several long locks of stray hair now spill over his eyes. “Yes, you can,” he says. “Open your mouth.” He draws away and your lips part, unthinkingly but so very obediently.

Stilling ever so briefly, he spits into your mouth and your eyes widen, unable to process the sheer depravity of what he’d done. It lands squarely on your tongue and under his heavy-lidded anticipation, you swallow. It reminds you that this - the pain, the domineering, the humiliation - is all for him now; you already got your orgasm.

It gets him closer, you can tell from the way his hips speed up, deep strokes reduced to pumps, though with still enough force to ripple the flesh of your thighs. In a way, it does help - if you could handle something as vile as that, why, what couldn’t you handle?

But toleration and voluntariness were two different functional spheres entirely. Part of you thinks you would have preferred an outright fight, because then the victor and the loser would be clearly defined. Being orgasm-wrung and panting on the floor, you could constitute yourself as neither.

Thoroughly robbed of any remaining decorum, you chase after his mouth hotly, groaning into him. Sub-Zero adapts to your strain of desperation, hands planted on the sides of your face to keep you from ever wriggling away before he allows it. And yet his kiss is a respite, ridiculously enough, from how he is making you ache below.

Your hands run along his bulging triceps, stroking him almost affectionately. Your core was growing tight again and the feeling grew no matter how you tried to suppress it. “I need to… I need…” So muddled, you don’t think your words are even coherent.

Unable to restrain yourself any longer, you convulse around him for the second time. Pleasure buzzes in your chest, spreading in every direction.

“Coming again?” he huffs. “I thought your type - ngh - valued self-discipline.” The gait of his taunt is erratic, clearly moved by your sudden tightness.

“It’s the drug,” you counter, but you don’t believe that at all. No, this must be all you now.

He does not deign to reply, because right then he tenses - and you felt a liquid heat begin to pool inside you. It registers too belatedly that you should have said something earlier to stop him from ejaculating inside. It rests heavy in you, real evidence of what you’ve done if the scatter of bruises up and down your body wasn’t a sign enough. He pumps in small oscillating movements until you’ve milked him completely and you lay there, stunned and in resignation.

He sighs again, deep and low, more of a rumble than anything else. Sub-Zero blinks languidly, his eyes downcast and for the first time, you see the exertion in his expression. The loose hair that sweeps across his forehead begs to be tucked away but knowing better, you keep your hands to yourself.

Sub-Zero pulls off you unceremoniously, dick soft enough to tuck away into his pants. With every passing second, you drop from your high. In silence you drag yourself into a sitting position, eyes trailing him lazily as he stalks off and without warning rips a hanging red cloth off a stand, so violently it leaves the metal stand wobbling. It’s as large as a body towel. He wipes himself first before rolling it up and tossing it to you, its large golden tassels smacking you in the outer leg.

It is, again, a funny gesture that feels out of place with the rest of his conduct. As you clean yourself with the dry velvet - Shang Tsung’s cloak, seemingly, a fact which you drove yourself to ignore - you had to face the reality of Sub-Zero’s come dripping out of you. Even without contorting yourself, your sopping and battered cunt was obviously the culprit of the dark stain spreading across the rug.

There was, of course, no point in protesting now. And had you said something, you figured without resentment that there was no guarantee he would have listened anyway. Nevertheless, you’ll need to remedy this as soon as possible lest there be undue surprises…

You gather yourself on legs like a newborn faun, teetering until you grasp the edge of the desk, toppling a miniature astrolabe. You shove the stained cloak to the side. Your libido has wicked into almost nothingness for which you had to be relieved, but that did not quell the perceptible imbalance in your energy.

Perhaps the true purpose of that poison was to affect your chi, not your… sexual appetite, after all. It merited further research but too bad the liquid off the floor already evaporated and the bottle itself was unlabeled.

Leaning for support, you redress yourself whilst thinking about your filled womb; it makes you just cringe. Shit. It’s a major inconvenience to now have this on the forefront of your personal concerns and though you hardly had the mind to tell Sub-Zero, the mere thought of him made you faintly aware of how deathly quiet he had become.

You look up. Immediately your adrenaline spikes because he’s not there, not in your line of sight. His mask was no longer where it once was tossed either.

This, in hindsight, is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. You had no intention to rest in any afterglow, but it appeared even a moment to catch your breath was overly-indulgent.

Movement flicks on your left. And you have to blame your fatigue because otherwise you’d beat yourself up about this, because before you know it you hear that familiar crunch of ice coming together and the entire room drops several degrees.

You duck but it is the wrong direction and within a millisecond both your shoes are encased in ice. You lurch, unsteady in the trap.

You exhale. You suppose it was always going to converge back to a tussle, one way or another. But then you spot him kneeling by your pack, invasively filing through what you’ve uncovered, and you’re incensed again. Already having wasted enough time, you snap, “You won’t get away with this, Sub-Zero.”

He lifts the pack by one handle and sends a provoking look your way. “I already have,” he says and you bristle. You’re so stupid for letting your guard down, letting him leave your sight for even a second. The muffle of his mask is not enough to conceal the smarmy condescension oozing out.

Of course, you weren’t expecting him to be romantic, beaming in post-coital bliss, but going back to wanting each other dead so promptly after being drugged up feels dramatically unhinged.

“We need to figure out what that stimulant was,” you say. “You felt what it did to you - what it did to us. This place is dangerous and I have contacts with the Edenians to help us sort through it. I just need… you to hand that bag over.”

You think it’s convincing enough because it’s true. Like hell you’d ever want to be caught up in a position like that, being splashed by liquid that had the ability to strip you of your chi and basic self-control.

“Come on,” you insist, more aggrieved than ever before, “you were just induced into having sex with a complete stranger. Shouldn’t you be more worried?”

Sub-Zero pauses, smoothing his hair back with the heel of his palm. Somehow in that short span of time, he’d managed to equip all his gear back sublimely. This fact only aggravates you further. “Hm. I didn’t expect you to think so lowly of yourself.”

“You cannot be serious - ”

Then, like a gut punch to cap-end the entire affair, he interrupts, “Should you want this back, you know where to find me.”

No. No, no, no.

It’s the last thing he bothers saying. None of your angry shouts purportedly get to him, even as he vanishes down the stairs and although your backup knife is miserably tiny, it’s the only one you have on-hand. At a loss, you bend your knees and start chipping away the ice.

The upside, you find, is that the ice is very hard: it provides for you an exercise in releasing your stress by hacking into it without holding back. The downside, equally, was that it was very hard, so hard it would seemingly take you ages to free yourself.

Shards of brittle ice spit up from where you stab. Your body trembles; your face is so flushed that you’re surprised the ice hadn’t already melted under the spotlight of your anger and embarrassment.

You’ve scarcely a desire to enter Earthrealm, and certainly none in hurtling towards a viper’s den like a Lin Kuei stronghold, but -

You also cannot go back to Sun Do empty-handed.

What would you even say to Lord Liu Kang when he requests your report? Should you even mention Sub-Zero? You’re sick to the stomach at the mere thought of having let Lord Liu Kang down so gravely… your fretting was giving you a headache.

It did not help that you were already dehydrated the moment you stepped inside the building.

Pinched between your thumb and forefinger, you break off a small chunk of ice and place it on your tongue. It’s so brilliantly cold it practically burns. As you wait for it to melt into water by sucking gently, you try very, very hard to not think about how the cold felt on the rest of your body.

For what it’s worth, you almost do succeed.

#subzero x reader #bihan x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #dynamites writes

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charmixpower · 1 year ago

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So I've been asked what my ideal relationship timeline is winx would be like for the canon relationships (on discord), so here it is!!!

Bloom/Sky:

This fucking relationship was a mess! Not even a mess in the way Rivusa was a mess, I mean them both imagining a kiss at the end of s1 fucking mess. Help what is wrong with them

For them I would like them to get in a relationship before the Trix try and convince Bloom that she was made by the ancestral witches (Valtor foreshadowing?) and then they break up during the Diaspro event. He gets his ass DUMPED!!! Consequences for your actions you little asshole!!!

They make up during the s1 finale and Sky is like "can we start dating again 🥺" and Bloom is like "No💙". The imagined kiss can still happen, it was so insane, you can keep it

Then s2 happens and Sky is trying so hard to be a good bf "plz take me backkk" and then hes like "I hate Avalon. I'm not even like doing this bc I want you back, that man is CREEPY. Riven agrees and we had an entire civil conversation about it. Baby plz." Bloom is not listening 💙💙💙 and then the dark Bloom thing happens and Sky fights tooth and nail to save her and they make up form like everything from s1 and s2!!! Yaya

After all that they are dating now, good for them, good for them. WAIT? WHATS GOING ON?? ITS VALTOR WITH THE STEEL CHAIR!!! SKLOOM IS ON THE FUCKING FLOOR!!! God they are such a fucking mess goddamn

Riven very quickly points out that Sky was under mind control and Bloom feels bad and she goes to save him and they talk about it and they're fine mostly. They talk about it, it hurt them both but it doesn't fuck them up completely

The first movie is the same except they don't get engaged, please calm down both of you, think about this for a little longer, but they're happy and good for them

Stella/Brandon:

Literally the only thing I would change is that they are obviously in a relationship early in s1 and they DON'T break up after the reveal, even though Brandon thinks they're broken up

That's it, aside from that no notes

Musa/Riven:

The show ends after the first movie, the later seasons don't exist and can't hurt me (<- are currently hurting me)

In season one it's established that Musa and Riven met before the season and Musa remembers the interaction a better than Riven does, instead of her seeing Riven act like a dick and then suddenly liking him. She's already seen the soft side of him and she wants the "mean to everyone but me" relationship bc Musa is insane too ❤️

S1 and s2 should vibe most untouched aside from this and Riven and Musa should both acknowledge that they like each other at the beginning of s2 but don't get in a relationship bc Riven isn't emotionally ready 4 another relationship so soon after Darcy and Musa is nomral about it (she's not).

S3 except the golden Kingdom is slightly different, the worry Riven is feeling is shown over anything else. Yeah I'll keep the motorcycle thing in, Riven can't communicate and Musa has a mood disorder they're gonna get into a couple dump fights at first. That's just being mentally ill they're fine. They should like immediately make up tho, like as someone who knows people like this the apologies for being insane bc you had a mood swing or can't read social cues are like so quick

Keep the first movie but Riven doesn't have to relearn any lessons, he is simply vibing and in love with Musa and breaks out of mind control bc of his resounding guilt after being forced to hurt her

Tecna/Timmy:

TIMMY DOESN'T HAVE TO PROVE HIMSELF IN S2!!!! EVERYTHING STAYS THE SAME BUT THAT

Okay and Tecna doesn't explicitly state she doesn't want a relationship bc then it feels weird when she gets into one

But like in s2 when Tecna gets pissed at Timmy for not intentionally picking a fight he can't win that could get him killed?? She's treated as the one in the wrong and has to learn to be more chill than Timmy having to do anything, he literally wasn't in the wrong

S2 was so disrespectful to Timmy I SWEAR

Flora/Helia:

GIVE THEM MORE THAN ONE CHARACTER TRAIT!!!!!

Flora stops having a personality after this, please let her yell at people in begging you. Give Flora a character arc I'm begging you

Helia doesn't have a personality!! He has a bunch of implications and he's literally never around in s2 OR s3!! So often it's the winx and specialists except Helia!!

Let them like express different sides of their personality and give Helia more screen time, that's all I ask

I'm on my knees begging you

I can't even say anything because there's literally nothing to go off of

Take the shab stone comic and put it into the show

Aisha/Nabu:

Please imagine a world where Aisha is arranged to marry someone and that person and her love interest are two different ppl

Keep it the same except Nabu isn't her arranged partner, they meet while fighting on Andros and Nabu keeps showing up because he ran away from home and has no idea what the fuck he's doing without all his servants and he's asking Aisha for help djwbdbwjsbwnwbs

That would be MY ideal for them but if have to keep the large plot points the same I wouldn't change anything, like my problem is the inciting incident of their relationship the development itself is cute, but id want them to become official in s4 instead. Only Florelia (sane people) and Brella (soulmates) can get away with the one season romance and make it feel natural, Aisha would not get into a relationship that quickly, but that's a nitpick if anything

No other Aisha relationships exist and if they did they'd be with Roy and not Nex shut up

#winx club #rus chatters #bloom x sky #stella x brandon #musa x riven #tecna x timmy #flora x helia #aisha x nabu

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kekeartzworld · 2 months ago

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It’s Time That I Updated My Introduction

So hi! I exist

You can call me Keke or Oliver

I’m a 20 year old self taught artist who’s been drawing since about the age of 8 or 9

I can barely remember when exactly I started drawing but I know that it was a long ass time ago

Also I swear a lot so please pay no mind to it

I am gender fluid and bisexual

I am taken and in a relationship with my boyfriend Thomas

He doesn’t have a Tumblr account but he is on discord as giovanni_thomas

He does tend to have trust issues with new people however because of his past so be mindful of that if you do friend him out of the blue

Tell him it was me who sent ya lol

But I specialize specifically in traditional sketches, digital drawings, and character designs

Oh yeah, I can also make a basic ass starry sky looking background which is used a lot in my digital works

I currently live in the countryside of Oklahoma with my mom, younger sister, uncle, and grandparents

An adult still living with family members

Cringe I know

But I also kind of don’t have a choice so yeah

I should note that this pin will change frequently

I run several side blog, a lot of which are pretty much dead at this point

These blogs include:

@plushiesontheroad (on again, off again thing)

@lus-corner (currently trying to revive)

@askbloomingsymphony (first FPE rp blog I ever made that is slowly dying)

@splatbitcabbit (dead-ish but might gain attention again because of a blog linked to her lore that I’ll mention later in this list)

@viviansmagicshop (which is still going decently well)

@vivianscanonwife (literally no one interacts with this blog)

@cutielilcandy (this one is still quite popular)

@agethath3silly (my most recent FPE rp blog that blew absolutely the fuck up only a single day after I made it)

@pastelwolffox (most recent oc rp blog that doesn’t have a lot of attention yet)

@rammy-subspace (first ever Scott Pilgrim rp blog =3 status pending)

I’ve honestly really underestimated Agetha’s popularity when I first made that blog

I didn’t think it would’ve blown up the way it did

But yeah

I am that weird half scene girl artist with an obsessive crush on Ramona Flowers

Oh, and I’m also a therian and a furry

My therian alter is known as “The Wolf”

Here’s a Magma doodle featuring her

Ignore the Ramona doodle

I kin N, Uzi, Cyn, and most apparently Oliver/Katie

This is my current sona character that is shown most frequently in my works

Also the reference of my irl appearance

So YEAH

I think that’s all

GOOD BYE!!!

#introductory post #intro post #updated introduction post #updated intro post #pinned post #updated pinned post #keke’s stupid rambling

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pap03 · 1 year ago

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Okay so I originally wrote this on Discord so apologies for any jank

But I need to get out my mega LOVE theory for Deltarune somehow, and Discord is the only place I've wrote it down lol

Anyways what got me going was this here difference in stats

Both being a post-Snowgrave Kris, just one from the Light World and the other from the Dark World

And this discrepancy would be strange right? If both LV's stood for the same thing

Which I'd why I claim that they do not

Rather that the LV in the Light World still refers to the LOVE of UT

While the LV in the Dark Worlds stands more properly for a "Level" a way of gauging the amount of Experience the Fun Gang have

Doubly true as the Dark World stats measure nowhere "EXP" aka "Execution Points"

From what I can tell Level only goes up upon reaching certain HP values, as Noelle goes from Level 1 to Level 2 in the Dark World

Since Noelle "Levels up" upon finishing just one act of violence in the Dark World

So I think it'll be possible later on to Level up early if you're violent enough

Sorta opposite of how it worked in UT, where you needed to LOVE up to get HP

In Dark Worlds you need to get your HP up to Level up

But that’s a bit of a tangent; continuing on

With the ground rules laid out that LV and LV can exist synchronously the next thought in my ramblings was that I need some proof that Noelle will continue to be our main Puppet, to explain why this LV theory should be relevant

And on that front, I got several bits

Easiest for me to lay out here is that the Survey taker at the beginning of ch 1 has special dialogue if you name yourself after a majority of the party members

This includes: Kris, Susie, and Noelle

All 4 share the same reaction

Secondarily Noelle lays out herself in the hospital that she's gonna figure out what's going on with Kris, which means to me that she'll keep coming around Kris, even despite the coercion into murder

And lastly, Noelle’s crush on Susie has so much unmissable screentime that Chekov would shit his grave if there were no resolution to it

This established leaves the first 2 core tenents of my theory

1. LOVE exists

2. Noelle will be the sole Snowgraver as the game progresses

For the sake of it, let's tackle the ramifications of both of these in order, as 1 heavily leans into 2

1. LOVE as we know it in Undertale exists in some way form or fashion in Deltarune

Natural questions that raises

- Do Darkners count for EXP? Yes, I'd say so, given the inverse effect on how Levels contribute to HP compared to how Undertale's LOVE and HP work, and the fact Noelle gains HP faster than the rest of the Party when they commit violence I'd argue there's a secondary element increasing her vitality, that being her LOVE increasing

- If LOVE exists why isn't Noelle a complete psycho killer in the Light World? Because that's not how LOVE works, by sans's admission LV contributes to making it easier to hurt others, and easier to distance yourself, but never expresses that it creates a want to kill, although that does seem to be a side effect which I'll get into next section

Mechanics of LOVE across Undertale and Deltarune:

For most people who've played a neutral run of Undertale, you'll be remiss to note anything going on as you gain LV. As much as I love Frisk as the blank slate of a protagonist that they are, their lack of emotions makes it hard to tell what exact the differences are between an LV 3 individual and an LV 7 one, differences sans can tell, but we can't really

So then we have to look elsewhere, mainly the Genocide run and comparing characters who may have killed in UT to their murderless counterparts in Deltarune

- Early LV's 1-6

At this point a person has killed a bit, but is also where the effects of each individual LV is the most noticeable, as sans has unique dialog for every LV here

What this tells me is that your first kills change you the most compared to later kills

Also during this LV range we see Frisk start their way through Snowdin in a Geno run, where they skip puzzles without our input, and are generally quieter than even before

I call this part of the LV grind "Getting Colder" for many reasons, partially for the pun, but also how we see Frisk act much more distant, aka cold, towards their surroundings and walk through situations, giving of an energy of "I don't care, let me through"

Considering this is also the LV's you'd end the game at for killing just Toriel or Undyne (two impassable bosses without killing or their special sparing method) that general sentiment persists

For the sake of it, I also reference Gerson and Asgore, Gerson was in the War of Humans and Monsters and has intimate knowledge about human combat and abilities, and while it's canon that no human casualties were suffered through the whole War, I would not be surprised if Gerson had to put down a fellow monster or two during the chaos after the Barrier was first erected. Yet despite that idea, Gerson is still just a bubbly, slightly traumatized, old man in Waterfall telling me that you can work past Early LVs. Yet there's also Asgore, as of the time of me writing this the only character who has canonically (and confirmed to) taken the life of anything, and as of our time encountering him, he's distantly removed from the act he's doing, which is another murder. However I must mention that there's a lot of shit there for Asgore compared to Deltarune's Asgore that could lead to the state he's in beyond LOVE so take that with a grain of salt

- Middle LV's 7-14

This is where an interesting switch occurs, specifically at LV 9 but the larger grouping together sorta encompasses it all. This is where Frisk (yes Frisk I'll elaborate if I have to) begins to enjoy the act of killing, smiling before every encounter, and even reveling in the fear of others, such as when Frisk intimidates Monster Kid just before the Undying fight

Now above I talk about how wanting to kill isn't a symptom of LV, and I still believe that

While this seems to be contradicting evidence to that claim I don't think so, as I think it's around this point that one becomes so distant that the act of killing someone else doesn't invoke any feeling of remorse anymore

Where Frisk's enjoyment is derived from is their "Determination" as at the point they're smiling they've killed every monster they could find up to this point, so they're happy to "finish what they started" and also why the Smile goes away if you abort Geno at this point forward as that goal of eradication is gone

- High LV's 15-19

This is the grouping we know the least about, as the majority of these are Geno exclusive, CORE/Hotland exclusives no less which at this point the whole Underground is on lockdown so any unique traits from here are lost in translation, from best we can tell, anything shy of all kills isn't labeled as "True Evil" by MTT and LV 17 is labeled as "Bad at being evil" by sans

So perhaps there's some room for redemption at this point? Idk, sans doesn't think so at LV 19, but it's an interesting thought

- LV 20

This one gets a special mention just because of how everything goes down

The Mercy Button is gone

Frisk is able to make inputs without Player input

And at this LV it's possible to summon the Demon, a manifestation of the evils you caused and power you gained by pushing this world to its limits that quite literally has the power to attack the game box Undertale is played in

This demon is the single most powerful being we've encountered inside of UT/DR outside of maybe Asriel

Now, with everything LOVE-related established we can also use it as a symptom list to diagnose Noelle at where she's at and take a rough estimate as to how much LOVE a single Snowgrave run would allow for

And well, I won't run yall through the numbers so to speak but she's solidly in the Early LV's

She still has remorse for the deaths she did cause

But she's also able to distance herself from her actions there, could be grief but her interactions with her father on Snowgrave compared to a Main Route shows to me that she's a little more reserved, which also falls in line with Early LV symptoms

So what does that leave?

Well, as someone pointed out to me before, Noelle has some violent tendencies

They're reserved, but come out when say, Berdly also has a crush on Susie, or if it's encouraged (see what this whole post is about lol)

See also the theory that the damage at the beginning of the Cyber World was caused by Noelle, not Queen, and there's reason to see where things may go as Noelle breaches into the Middle LV's

I see her, like Frisk, enjoying the slaughter as things continue on

So to conclude my little LOVE Theory I see the rest of Deltarune going as such

1 more route of us manipulating Noelle into killing, she'll be far more resistive, but I know we'll break through, with the boss of that area that she kills (secret boss or another Lightner) the last we'll see of Noelle she'll have cracked a smile

Then from there on she'll easy, fights will break out just from her instigation, or from others more heroic trying to get in her way

By the end I think we'll have to fight her, and she'll kick our asses

Or we'll have to fight Kris

It's hard to know that far ahead

But using LOVE alone, that's how I see things going

Thanks for reading if you did! Feel free to comment and discuss or ask me questions through my ask box. Hope you enjoyed my transcribed madness lol

#deltarune #noelle holiday #noelle #noelle deltarune #kris dreemurr #kris #deltarune chapter 2 #kris deltarune #deltarune noelle #deltarune snowgrave #snowgrave route #snowgrave #undertale #undertale theory #deltarune theory #frisk ut #frisk undertale #long post

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raihanijulie · 6 months ago

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[ LEMNISCUS GUIDE BLOG!!! ]

☆Reading until end of blog will be much appreciated!!! (Psst, theres a discord server link i slipped in btw....)

Picture below isnt accurate with tumblr bc this was made for instagram post.

You may be wondering... "What is Lemniscus? Why do you keep mentioning it in your posts?"

TO BEGIN WITH, Lemniscus is one of the planets in this universe with Ribbaniuns the living beings in it! The population of Lemniscus consist the various anthropomorphic animals.

And thats where we begin sharing the story and contents of these characters by the name LEMNISCUS! You could say Lemniscus is a series/project my friends and i worked on together!!! (We took Lemniscus bc we literally only focus on this planet... No else.)

Ah... So then, "Who are the characters? Why do they look like the characters from Sonic series?"

THIS. is a good one to explain and i reallly want you guys to keep in mind with this!!!!

Yes! The Lemniscus cast does look like the characters from Sonic the hedgehog because they do take the design and traits inspiration from them! BUT! The personality, backstories, interractions, lores, all of those... We worked and develop on it ourselves!!! (Theres similiarities still, but its only SLIGHT!!! Theres some differences when compared)

Thats why this is NOT counted as Sonic au, instead, its their own universe and story! The Lemniscus cast are original characters/ocs based on existing character that later we develop so they wont look EXACTLY like the existing char they took inspiration of!

I could say that this universe's origins of making is basically 'based on Sonic'. Throughout time, there are improvisasion little by little as we worked on building chars and stories, making it their own thing :D!! So, again, Lemniscus and Sonic are two different thing... I appreciate yall's understanding. I dont want any miscommunication between Lemniscus and Sonic franchise! <"3

The original characters belong to their respective owners <3 (Keep in mind we are 4 person putting our characters in ONE and worked together in this)

Alright!!! Now INTRODUCE THE CAST/CHARACTERS!

Here ill list out the characters name with their profile links AND respective owners too! Get to know each of them by clicking their names:

Hz Railstar, Alora Quinn, Victoria Opal, Ezra (JULIE/HANA!!! ME!!! :D HOIHOI!!! I link you guys to my chars' masterpost in tumblr hehe,,, its more detailed!!!)

Gausberto, Nova, Puffin, Xenophone (Hani! NOTE: She doesnt put much infos of her characters, i'll most likely be the one to share the infos through source from her she is my own sister after all Infos about Hani's chars are most likely in the discord server!)

Aero and Noire ( @m3tr0n0m333 )

Rambutan Stoneheart ( @cherriosblog )

OH!!! But thats not it!! Theres more infos i'd like to share....

Slowly but surely, we noticed our Lemniscus contents dragged people to start being curious about it, even interested with the series/project we worked! Of course, with a warm welcome, we opened a discord server, ☆LEMNISCUS (Hz Universe), for the little community we have :D!!!

The server is a great place for you to learn more about the characters (bc again, SOME of the Lemniscus cast here are explained alot more in the discord server instead!) and LORESSS obviously! Its even easier and you can keep on track whenever new things are shared by us :)

The characters arent only the ones shown here... In fact, there are more than you think. Yes! Im talkin bout the side characters! Theyre mostly explained and digged alot more in the server soo....

Hop in and join to get more familliar of Lemniscus!! ☆

This must conclude the blog. Thank you everyone for the consideration and supports of this little project we worked on! <3 I, the one to start all this fun chaotic universe is very grateful that i'd make it this far by sharing contents of these silli cast, not only me, but by you dedicated supporters and friends that worked alongside me ☆

Live, laugh, burn Hertz!🔥🔥🔥🔥

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gaylactic-fire · 1 year ago

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Hi hello, I've got a question, what that heck happened this week?? I haven't been active in awhile and I just logged back in here to follow an artist from tiktok, and I happened to see the conservative discord server screenshots on my "your tags" section. Is possible to get the sparks note version of what happened? (Sorry if the ask sounds weird, not very good at putting my thoughts into words)

Sorry I only answered this a few days later! You might already know what's happening by now, but in case you didn't I'll give you a TLDR:

- Tumblr user alasse-earfalas makes a post on LU's main tag advertising a conservative christian LU / LoZ server. She claims to want a safe space for those with similar views. What really catches people's attention is a part of the post that speaks about "Pride ideology" and how such "predatory" views aren't allowed in the server. In the same section she talks about wanting a space where characters are not "queered into oblivion." The vibes are utterly rancid.

- LU fandom immediately begins spiteposting. Everyone and their mother starts making LU queer headcanons or posts showing their support for the queer community. The memes flood in. "Queered into oblivion." is immediately reclaimed and added to people's lexicons. People are speedrunning how fast they can get banned off the server. There's almost a unanimous effort to make fun of bigots.

- Further controversy ensues under the surface. As it turns out, several religious people in the fandom had been interacting with Alasse and other people in the conservative server. It was impossible to know whether or not they shared similar views, but you can't blame people's caution. When questioned whether their blogs were safe for queer people, some gave very vague answers that pretty much dialed down to "I love everyone" or "I don't wanna talk about it." Neutrality in such instances is not reassuring for queer people, especially when the other side is claiming we are predatory. Afaik some people have redacted their statements or gone on to further clarify things. But some people still take a firmly neutral stance on the matter. (Don't ask who I haven't been following closely enough to know).

- A few days later Alasse comes back with a follow-up statement addressing the server. She pulls a mix between "gay people I respect VS gay people I don't respect." and "I'm not homophobic I have a gay friend." By stating that the server is not homophobic, but simply does not support the pride movement. Which is allegedly pushing to show porn to kids in school. When asked for a source on such a shocking claim someone on the server cites Fucking Matt Walsh rather than a non-biased and or scientific article. The transphobia also pops out when she claims the pride movement is trying to push surgeries on children (It's not. Children do not get gender realignment surgeries. You can find this out from five minutes on google). Addressing "queered into oblivion." Alasse goes on a rant about "queerwashing" characters, stating the Links are canonically straight and making them queer invalidates their identity. Alasse conveniently forgets that Nintendo has never canonically given Link a partner. She also forgets that bisexuality, asexuality and other sexualities that may include romantic attraction to the opposite sex do, in fact, exist. The rest of the post is whining about people joining the server to troll and basically just her reaping what she sowed for advertising on Tumblr Dot Com.

Aside for further outrage and memes, that's pretty much where we're up to so far. Things are dying down and hopefully the bigots will keep to their own corner and or fuck off from the fandom entirely.

#askbox #long post #Fuck it I'll tag as LU for anyone who hasnt been keeping up lol #linked universe #feel free to add any tidbits i missed

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allthelittlecreepycrawlies · 7 months ago

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Do y'all want spoilers for the time travel fic I haven't updated in two years?

Of course you do!

So here's how the entire thing will go if I can ever hammer it into chapters.

(Cut to spare people's dashes. Also, thanks again to @micchikureshima for letting me use our discord convo to rant this out.)

Meng Yao manages to get a meeting with Yu-furen (with Jinzu and Yinzu on duty, of course). It's the first time he's ever seen her from within the same room (he only saw her once in the original timeline and it was from all the way across the marketplace during a festival) and he is desperately hiding how nervous he is.

She gives him a suspicious once-over, which has him sweating bullets that he might be recognized as a Jin Guangshan bastard, so he is infinitely glad when she instead identifies him as "that shadow chasing behind Nie-gongzi at the last conference in Qinghe."

Yes. Absolutely. He will definitely take that over being identified as anything else.

He tells her that he does pretty much whatever his sect leader needs him to do, which includes going out into the field as a scout because Nie-zongzhu doesn't trust the Wen in the slightest.

Considering word is already out about the attack on the Cloud Recesses, she agrees, then asks why, exactly, he has come to Lotus Pier instead of reporting back to the Unclean Realms.

He's already made up a lie about his mother having spent time as a maid in the Palace of the Scorching Sun before taking him and fleeing for their lives when one of Wen Ruohan's bad temper spells resulted in her being the only survivor of her servant cohort. He was young, true, but old enough to have seen the kind of man Wen Ruohan was turning into.

Then he tells her his observations and theory that since the attack on the Cloud Recesses failed to produce the kind of bloodshed the Wen Sect wanted for their threat, it's very likely that, as their closest neighbors, either Lotus Pier or the Unclean Realms will be next. And he has already seen (and killed) some scouts from the Wen sect sniffing around the outer edges of Yunmeng Jiang's territory on the way to the Pier.

Yu-furen, absolutely stone-faced, thanks him for the information and orders him to leave.

He goes far enough that no one will notice him, then pulls out some cloaking talismans that don't exist in the cultivation world yet because they were cribbed from the Yiling Laozu's notes back in his previous run of this life. Unlike the usual silence or stealth talismans, which can only bubble a staid location, these can be pressed to clothing to make a moving bubble. It's how he was able to kill the scouts.

He uses one to spy on the Jiang and find out whether or not Yu-furen will take his words to heart.

(He doesn't go spy on her directly because he knows she'll have to talk about it with her husband because he's the sect leader, and he got more than his fill of warring couples when he had to put up with both his father and Jin-furen.)

The security patrols are stepped up within the next week, more frequent, with two or three guards apiece instead of just one. Not enough that it would look suspicious to the Wen, but enough that he can tell his information got through.

He's especially relieved when he watches Yu-furen personally send her daughter and son off to visit relatives in Meishan Yu, ostensibly because she wants them to know more about that side of their heritage.

As head disciple, Wei Wuxian has to stay behind this time, which doesn't help his nerves.

For the umpteenth time, he can't help but wonder what in the world Jiang Fengmian was thinking almost two years ago, cheerfully putting a fourteen-year-old in charge of all their combat necessities, especially one who even now still seems to be goofing off. The Nie sect had been backed into an unfortunate position when it came to Nie Mingjue, a problem the Jiang sect didn't have, and even his own promotion from assistant to military aide had come after the war had started, when he was an adult.

Whatever, he's not going to think about it any more.

He's got work to do.

Meng Yao spends his time focusing on laying traps in the most likely spots for the Wen to infiltrate, taking out more scouts, and other such sabotage, while quietly sending reports to Mingjue.

For almost a month, it looks like his plan is going to work and the Jiang will be prepared if the Wen try anything.

-----

Then he's woken up in the middle of the night by screaming, and sees the orange glow over the trees from his window.

Fuck.

He quickly dresses, grabs his hidden weapons and talismans and sword, and makes a beeline for Lotus Pier. He slaps on a cloaking talisman as he breaks the treeline, and is stuck just staring for a moment at how many buildings are on fire.

How did this happen?!

No time to wonder about it. He shakes himself out of the stupor and immediately starts looking for survivors, waiting until the soldiers and cultivators aren't paying attention to grab them into his stealth bubble and drag them to a safe spot.

He's not a hero. He doesn't want to be doing this. But he can't imagine having to go back and look his sect leader and young master in the eyes and admit that he watched the Pier burn and did nothing.

It's not lost on him at all that most of the ones he's finding still alive are children and very young teenagers, left to die on their own while the adults were more thoroughly finished off.

He finds Jinzu (dead) and Yinzu (barely breathing) and drags the latter out, having to soothe her protests by promising to look for their lady.

He drags out an injured and half delirious Wei Wuxian, who somehow finds the energy to mumble a thousand questions about the talisman on his clothing.

Then he goes back in to look for Yu-furen.

Of course, she's in the middle of the mess, Wen Chao and his annoying girlfriend gloating over the bodies of her and Jiang Fengmian-

-then Meng Yao sees her hand twitch and oh, hold up.

Yu-furen, stunningly, is alive, though she's not gonna be for much longer if he can't get her out, which is looking increasingly difficult with more and more guards joining the -gag- lovebirds and Wen Zhuliu.

Then a charred flag waving in the wind gives him an idea. He sticks a stealth talisman to it and charges the hell out of it to act as a distraction for what he's about to do, then turns around and uses another burst of qi a knife directly at Wen Chao's throat.

The asshole has the unbearably frustrating timing to move right then, but he still hits a target, the knife zinging right past his face to bury into Wang Lingjiao's, killing her before she even hits the ground.

Wen Chao, naturally, completely loses his shit and starts screaming orders as he drops to his knees to cradle her body, and Meng Yao runs like hell towards Yu-furen, leaving behind the cloaked lure flag to make people think the assassin's in the spot he's already abandoned.

He barely manages to get his stealth bubble over Yu-furen before anyone can notice, but they realize she's gone as he's dragging her into the forest.

Ha, let 'em search all they want, he thinks triumphantly, but the adrenaline euphoria wears off as he reaches the rest of the sect members he managed to rescue.

Roughly two dozen kids and teenagers, a badly injured Yinzu and Wei Wuxian, who are trying to tend their injuries as best as they can, and now a nearly-dead Yu-furen.

His time-melded body is somewhere in his twenties, and he's the most capable adult standing here. Damn, he really didn't think this through.

But that's usually how it goes when he gives into impulse, isn't it? Like with-

No, he is absolutely fucking not going to think about the Jin captain from his last life. He is going to think of a way to get himself and this sorry little squad of Jiangs somewhere safe.

Of course, Meishan Yu comes to mind. Getting around the Wen now patrolling the forest won't be easy, but he still has plenty of stealth talismans. The real problem will be managing to get there with any speed, considering all the injured.

"How conscious are you?" he asks Wei Wuxian and Yinzu. Their answers aren't exactly encouraging, but will have to be good enough.

Some of the kids are starting to look at him warily, so he introduces himself as a member of the Nie sect, who'd been sent to warn the grown-ups this attack was coming and had… partially succeeded.

He gives Wei Wuxian some of the stealth talismans and they split the group to make it harder for the Wen to catch them, Wei Wuxian leading one and he and Yinzu leading the other, carrying Yu-furen on a makeshift stretcher between them.

When they reach the front gates of the Yu Sect compound, the guards on the walls recognize Yu-furen and guards come to hustle the Jiang group in.

He, on the other hand, is made to stay outside the gate,

It's not like he really expected any different, being from an unallied sect, but the blunt snub still stings a bit.

He sits down to wait for Wei Wuxian's group to show up, exhaustion creeping up on him as the hours pass. He's almost asleep when someone clears their throat from the wall above.

It's Jiang Yanli, who carefully lowers down a basket on a rope laden with food. For rescuing her mother and the kids, she says before disappearing from the wall.

Grateful and hungry, he tries to keep himself from just wolfing it all down in seconds, with the wistful thought that he should have tried to get to know her better in that life before.

Night falls, he sleeps at the gate, and morning arrives with Wei Wuxian's group still not having shown up.

This can't possibly be good.

-----

Almost on reflex, he makes his way towards Yiling, stopping only to take an extremely quick bath and get -most of- the blood off his clothing in a river.

As he gets closer and closer to the town, the rumor mill gets more and more animated. Most of it is expressly about the sacking of Lotus Pier, but there's one that makes his stomach churn.

A bunch of little Jiang sect kids were tortured, possibly killed, just the day before, and the Wen are forcing some local laborers to haul all the sect corpses from the Pier to the Burial Mounds.

He hears nothing about Wei Wuxian himself, which is… well, he knows better than to hope he just got away clean. The man destroyed his reputation and got himself killed once to shield former enemies, there's no way he would have up and abandoned his shidis and shimeis to save his own skin.

Which means Wei Wuxian must be on the way to the Burial Mounds as well, alive or dead.

And Meng Yao now has a very, very difficult decision to make.

So, pros and cons here.

On one hand, they have a lot more of the Lan sect available to fight this time, and because this whole mess has started two years early and without the Indoctrination Camp (yet… he really hopes it doesn't get to the point that happens again), many of the sects the Wen had absorbed are still independent and could be lured to the Sunshot side.

On the other hand, that's a lot of people available to potentially get killed, and corpses would do a lot more damage with a lot less… casualties, he'll say, even though that's not the right word for whatever goes on with a corpse army.

And then, there's also the possibility that Wei Wuxian is simply dead, or that he can't master the resentful energy necessary to form the corpse army while still having a core.

Though if he could, there would be an entire army already waiting for him because Wen Chao had been stupid enough to dump so many semi-fresh bodies there as an act of spite.

It's not his business.

It is his business, because he'd been impulsive and gotten involved at the Pier.

Fuck, he has the worst headache forming.

Looking down, he realizes he has wandered close to the "border" that the Yiling Laozu had once made by positioning hundreds of corpses around the Burial Mounds. There aren't any bodies about right at the moment, but he can feel the resentful energy trying to find fissures in his qi flow, recognizing him as a potential tasty snack.

He takes a deep breath and focuses on keeping it out, and the pain in his head lessens enough to let him think clearly.

He decides he'll send word to Jiang Cheng -because Yu-furen is in no condition to lead and probably won't be any time soon- about the body dump and the possibility that there might still be survivors, and let him decide what to do with that.

They might end up getting a corpse army anyway.

He still knows how to make the butterfly messengers. It will invite some questioning if too many people see it, since that's a technique he shouldn't know, but he has to make sure the message arrives.

And after one more night of restless, uncomfortable sleep driven by nightmares of the war as it had unfolded last time he'd gone through it, he turns towards the Heijan front.

Towards home.

After days of travel on foot to keep from being noticed and a few unfortunate fights when he failed at that, he barely makes it three steps into the military camp before almost being knocked off his feet by a fierce hug.

"You're back, you're back- you look like hell."

He snorts. "Hello to you, too," he says to Huaisang dryly. But inside, his heart is suddenly full to bursting at the knowledge that his young master must have been keeping a very sharp eye on things to have already known he was coming.

Had been keeping an eye out for him specifically.

Meng Yao knows he should go report to his sect leader first and foremost, but Huaisang drags him off towards the hospital and kitchen tents, dead set on getting him stuffed with food and checked over.

"I'm surprised your brother let you out here," Meng Yao admits as the medic tuts over the condition of his qi from all the stunts he'd had to pull at Lotus Pier.

After all, Nie Mingjue had been adamant about keeping Huaisang as far from the battlefield as possible in their past life, burying him in paperwork in either the Unclean Realms or the Cloud Recesses.

"I'm really only allowed these places," Huaisang says, giving him a conspiratorial grin. "After all, in a kitchen or infirmary, I'm never really disarmed, right?"

Very true. Huaisang had taken to hidden weapons training much more readily than he'd ever taken to the idea of a saber,

and even Mingjue had eventually been forced to admit he was quite good at improvising. Their sect leader still tried to drag him out with a practice saber occasionally, but wasn't nearly as vehement about it as he'd been in Meng Yao's memories.

After he's finally released from the infirmary, he makes his report, and then… he's tired. Too little sleep, too much stress, and even if his core was much stronger than it had been in his past life, he'd pushed it past most of its limits.

"You're staying with me," Huaisang announces. "Until they can get you set up somewhere else. Maybe even then."

He's too fried to argue, but once he's collapsed on a cot, Huaisang clinging to him like a barnacle, he finds he wouldn't have wanted to argue anyway. This feels right, similar to how the Unclean Realms had started to feel like home.

He would like- he could see himself getting very comfortable with this.

But there's still a war going on, and he can't rely on the mere hope that Wei Wuxian is alive and able to figure out resentful energy channeling.

So, with great misgivings, he slips out early in the morning, before Huaisang's awake, to go present his plan about installing a spy in the Wen sect to Mingjue.

He doesn't want to leave again, not so soon after arriving. Mingjue looks downcast about it, and he knows Huaisang is going to be upset.

But there's no one better suited to the task. He already survived Wen Ruohan once when the man had been at the peak of his volatile madness, he's the only one who knows how to predict the unpredictable. It has to be him.

Changing out of his sect clothing back into the dull travel robes, he slips out of the camp like a ghost and begins making his way toward Qishan.

-----

The next time he sees Nie Mingjue, it's in the throne room of the Palace of the Scorching Sun. Wen Chao is dead, Wen Xu is in the pits of the palace, essentially being kept on life support after he barely survived a fight with Mingjue, and the corpse army is tearing its way across the jianghu, bolstered by the rest of the Sunshot forces including an undecimated Lan sect and all the rogues who've rallied to Jiang Cheng.

Unlike the first time this happened, Nie Mingjue is in on the plan, the both of them having agreed to Lan Xichen being their go-between (maybe they could end up friends after all... he could at least hope).

Unlike the first time this happened, the 'killings' of the Nie cultivators are carefully staged.

Unlike the first time this happened, Wen Ruohan catches his movement out of the corner of his eye.

The force of hitting the wall shocks him to the point he doesn't even feel the pain that should have come with so many bones fracturing at once.

But even if he didn't deal the killing blow this time, it's fine. He made a good enough distraction for Nie Mingjue to get his chains around the tyrant's throat.

The last thing he remembers before he loses consciousness is his sect leader desperately calling his name as he drops Wen Ruohan's corpse like a discarded rag and rushes towards him.

-----

He wakes up to the victory banquet having come and gone without him ever meeting his father, and he is relieved

He wakes to the realization that he has already changed an entire war so much that manipulating the political aftermath to an ending that benefits everyone but his father should be easy, and the spiteful little ember he has always carried in his chest finally quiets into smoke.

He wakes to Nie Huaisang clutching his hand, having fallen asleep in a chair beside his bed -"The brat only ever left you if I personally dragged him out,"- Nie Mingjue tells him with an annoyed eyeroll that is immediately disregarded for a fond, proud smile as he ruffles his brother's hair.

And Meng Yao thinks, for the first time in two lifetimes, that he is completely satisfied with the results of all his hard work. (THE FUCKIN END)

#mdzs #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #sangyao #wei wuxian #yu-furen #jiang yanli #wen ruohan #ideas #extended concept #AAAAAAAAAAAAA

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 1 year ago

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Twisted Wonderland Kaiju!AU Worldbuilding

I've been thinking for a while, and I realized that I needed to consolidate/create an essential "worldbuilding sheet" that lists ideas for the AU that I didn't think I'd be able to properly fit into the story. I didn't think I'd be able to get MIRA to explain either since there are aspects of this AU that the researchers and Yuu wouldn't be able to find out about that easily.

Plus, this is also a good way for me to introduce some of the ideas I've discussed with some friends on a Discord server!

To make it easier to note which points are just my comments/thoughts, I've put them in bold and itallics. Other stuff that's meant to be read like a description/summary will be in normal text. I'll likely be updating this post as more ideas come to mind so I can keep track of everything, but I will be announcing whenever there's an update!

///------///

Author Note: Put into perspective, the Kaiju living in the same world as humans is akin to the movie “Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs” or “Journey to the Center of the Earth”. In this AU, there is a whole second world deep beneath the ocean to the point that the cavern has created its own unique weather system and developed an ecosystem that seems almost prehistoric. This is supposed to tie into the game and how Yuu is in a whole new world of magical beings, except they’re giant Kaiju!

The initial discovery of the world beneath the sea was by pure chance when it became clear that ships and airplanes had begun vanishing. By pinpointing the last known locations of the ships, they were able to discover a massive cave opening big enough to fit a large ship. Inside is a cave system of tunnels and water slides that travel deep into the earth before spitting out the lucky few who managed to survive the trip to the new ocean. Depending on the location of the opening they emerge from, the vessel may either arrive in a safe location or near the territory of massive aquatic predators. Not far from these openings, however, is the very island the story takes place.

Despite how destructive Kaiju can be, there are some who have cleared up the debris from these ships and planes. In fact, those particular Kaiju are the reason that the beach Yuu awoke near the "ship graveyard" as the beach will be nicknamed.

There are two entrances into this mysterious underground ecosystem: the cave system, and a massive whirlpool. Given its dangerous nature, ships often steer clear of it when it does form and was merely noted by the researchers as being there in favor of studying the island. The ones who discovered this secret entrance was a ship carrying poachers seeking to take advantage of the newly discovered creatures and resources on the island, only to find themselves caught in the whirlpool before arriving on the other side. Not ideal, but highly effective for sneaking past the security around the cave.

If the researchers learned of the existence of the whirlpool entrance, it would be theorized that the whirlpool formed long ago to draw water into the cavernous void beneath the crust. This would explain why it became a virtual time capsule of an ecosystem of mega fauna. Another theory is that the whirlpools form from the unstable energy created by the island itself. (A/N: It’s actually created by blot crystals lying at the bottom of the sea growing from the bones of a deceased Phantom Kaiju that had tried to escape the island to wreak havoc on the surface world but never made it out of the opening it had created. It’s quite possible that—even though the Phantom Kaiju isn’t moving—it is very much still “alive”.)

The magnetic disruption caused by the blot crystals over the whirlpool and near the cave are what essentially pulled in various aerial and sea-based vessels, which is why Yuu/Reader/MC finds the planes on the beach. One plane happened to get impaled on one of the blot crystals before it emerged on the other side, though how exactly it got on the beach is a mystery…

Blot comes in two forms: crystalline, and ooze. The crystal form—though relatively “safe”—generates a miasma fog that deters most creatures from approaching it, though it can still cause one to fall ill when exposed to the mist. Even the smallest fragment emits the miasma, making handling it difficult and dangerous. In ooze form, however, it can be unassuming and easily mistaken for tar pits at first glance. While not as numerous as the crystal form, it is by far the most dangerous. Any creature that falls into or consumes the ooze will become infected, their body slowly creating blot crystals all over their body. Once the crystals have completely overgrown on the body, the blot “controls” its new host to seek out its goal—though what it is or what it wants is unknown.

Kaiju have some form of immunity to the blot itself as it comes from the same source as their natural magic, though this does not mean they’re entirely protected. Depending on the amount of blot buildup, a Kaiju may grow sick or—in extreme cases—will be consumed by the blot and become little more than mindless husks over time. Should the latter situation happen and the infected Kaiju isn’t freed from its Overblot state, the Primal Guardians (aka the staff) have to put it down before it can escape the island and head for the surface world. (A/N: If you’ve seen Genndy Tartakovsky’s “Primal” and the episode “Plague of Madness”, that’s the general vibe of chaos and terror I’d imagine Kaiju Overblots have—minus the whole “body falling apart” deal!)

On the island itself (known as the “Night Raven Continent” due to the massive raven like formation at the top of one the mountains), crystals grow everywhere and form in greater concentrations around pools of energy located in key areas in each territory. The crystals contain strong magical energies that the Kaiju can feast on like rock candy when they require a boost, but the effects of this can be the equivalent of a “sugar crash” in terms of energy exhaustion. The pools of energy are safe for consumption, though transport of samples for research has been unsuccessful by researchers as the potency fades to little more than pure mountain water.

A/N: I wanted to find a way to include the starshards and sunshards in the game mechanics as a way for Kaiju to recharge in this AU, since the shards give you more “energy” to do exams or fight in the crafter’s gauntlet. Having there be pools of purple-blue “stardust” energy or “sunlight” energy seemed like an interesting thing to include, and I like the idea of magic glowy water! c:

A/N: The Great Seven exist in this AU, though their depictions come in the form of ancient statues scattered across the island and the very few painted murals left behind by the humans who dwelled on the island. As Kaiju, they are MUCH bigger than the current generations to the point one could literally call them “world-shapers”. The current Kaiju believe that the “Primordial Seven” were responsible for creating the underground world and all the islands within. This massive cave system goes all around the world and each have their own Kaiju and creatures (aka the Sunset Savanna, Scalding Sands, Briar Valley, etc).

Over time, researchers have begun to notice a pattern of behavior that the Kaiju will display on the continent. Every five years, most of the Kaiju will migrate to other islands far away. Given the distance and how treacherous the waters are, it’s been difficult for exploration teams to travel far enough to see these other islands. However, this migration seems to cycle through different seasons as Kaiju from other islands will visit as well. It’s unknown if this is a stop for them to rest before continuing on their way to their destination. Researchers began to call this the “Great Kaiju Migration”. In some cases, Kaiju visiting the island may exhibit nesting behavior and will have their litter/clutch. They only move on before or after their babies are able to walk and will carry them on their back. Those who have strong magic potential will be left in the care of the Primal Guardians.

Kaiju who have the potential to be strong or have a unique energy will either migrate to the island or are brought over by their parent(s) to grow and learn under the guidance of the Primal Guardians. Trein/Elderclaw is the oldest known caretaker who watched over young Kaiju, though now the mantle has been passed on to Crowley/Nevermore and Crewel/Crewelfang.

A/N: While most of the Kaiju raised on the island would be the mob students from the game, some of the main cast were also raised on the island by the staff due to being abandoned by their parent(s), given up for a better opportunity to grow, or were orphaned after losing their family to an attacking Kaiju/Phantom Kaiju. Silver, Deuce, Epel, and Ruggie are current known examples of Kaiju who were orphaned for some reason or given up by their family so they can grow and develop in an environment that can train them right. There may be others, I just haven't figured out who aside from those currently listed!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland kaiju au #twst kaiju au #twisted wonderland kaiju au worldbuilding #twst kaiju au worldbuilding

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averageanonymous · 8 months ago

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Summary: In the aftermath of Aziraphale’s return to Heaven, Crowley plays the piano to chase away the silence.

i.e. I chronically have Crowley playing the piano on the brain. Today, that resulted in an angsty drabble.

Words: 642

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

His apartment is dark, swathed in heavy silence that echoes off the empty caverns in his own soul. It's been too long. Too long with no sound but the trickle of a fountain, no voice but that which resides only in his mind. Now, he begins to feel it. The quiet - always before a numbing, soothing comfort - is beginning to crush him.

He approaches the large mahogany instrument tucked into the corner of his study, runs a hand over its surface, breathes. Years since he last played. Years since he wanted to.

His heart aches.

He doesn't want music.

Not really.

Whatever is broken in him relishes the quiet, the stillness.

No, he doesn't want music. But…he thinks he might need it.

So he slides onto the bench, eases back the fallboard, and lifts his hands. Black and white keys gleam under dim lights. He hesitates. His hands hover, silent, over ivory.

Finally, after what might be hours or only seconds, when the silence beneath his fingers begins to feel like agony, he settles on the keys and releases a single chord. Its sound rings into the emptiness and lingers there like a question. A pause. A breath. Then, gently, softly, slowly, notes like butterflies begin to lift from the keys. A few at first, then more, dozens upon dozens, until something begins to take shape beneath his hands.

He doesn't think about the melody that flows through him. It's nothing he has played before, nothing he has heard or seen. It has a life of its own; as though it has always existed, raw and pure as uncut diamond. The melody and harmony wind and twist through him, singing to his anguish with a beauty so sharp it cuts like a knife.

The music crescendos. He feels his soul lift with it, feels the weight of his misery, his loneliness, begin to slough away with each measure. Not enough to save him. But enough to keep him going. So he does. He plays and plays and plays.

He doesn't know where this ends. Part of him hopes it never does. Now that the music has chased it away, he finds that he dreads the silence waiting for him on the other side. That silence which drowns him and calls it solace. But that's all that is left to him, isn't it. And after all, what is the point anymore? This interminable existence, untethered from any harbor, adrift without anchor. The only thing that made it worth it, made it mean something, is gone from him, gone to a place he cannot follow. He is alone, here, alone-

His muscles quiver with exertion, his breath shallow, his heart racing. He feels himself losing the thread of the melody, feels it unraveling like loose thread from an unfinished tapestry. Something like panic grips him.

Suddenly, he strikes a wrong chord, and it's dissonance shatters what was left of the song, jarring him to his bones. He glares at the keys, breath heaving in his lungs, and with a snarl, drags his hands down the keyboard, a violent spray of discord flung after the ghost of the music that has left him wrung out and defeated on the piano's bench.

After precious few moments, the sound of his anger dissipates as thoroughly as the song, and he is left again in utter silence.

Silence.

He draws closed the fallboard, careful not to let it make a noise.

He slides away from the bench, away from the instrument, out of the room.

He lies down on his couch, the quiet wrapped around him like a cocoon. He lies there for hours (or days or weeks) and it doesn't matter. Eventually, the silence takes him deep enough that even his thoughts grow quiet, and finally, finally, he sleeps.

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Thanks for reading!

This sort of thing falls into the category of me just sitting down with a picture in my mind (or maybe a comic strip) and trying to write it in a way that captures the feeling of what I'm seeing. In my brain. I rarely succeed 🙄

#good omens #crowley #good omens fanfiction #good omens season 2 #fanfic #gomens #ineffable divorce #Crowley plays piano #sad crowley #good omens angst #angst #angsty crowley

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iamamythologicalcreature · 1 year ago

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Six Sentences Sunday! On Monday! Or Sunday still if you're in Hawaii.

Note to self: Do not try to write and do a WIP post on Tumblr in the same night. It won't happen. (Sigh.)

Thank you @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @katmiscellanious, @shrekgogurt, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, and @rimeswithpurple for the tags today! I'm looking forward to reading/seeing what everyone is working on! Also thank you to everyone who's tagged me since my last Sunday post. Even when I can't post, I love tags - they help make sure I see the posts I really want to see.

I'm still (slowly) plugging away at my "Embrace the Silence" WIP. (Which has a dozen titles, depending on what song I'm listening to at the given moment.) Basics: Canon divergence fic exploring the ramifications of Baz successfully stealing Simon's voice in fifth year.

Side note: I got to see the touring company of Hamilton on Friday, and this whole setup gives me serious A. Burr/A. Ham vibes. But I could be projecting XD

13 whole sentences because it's gotta cover two whole weeks most likely. >.> (Fiona is driving Baz back to Watford. Reluctantly. As is her way.)

“It’s enemy territory,” she said after a minute, ignoring a stop sign, and forgoing the use of her turn signal. “The Mage had you kidnapped by numpties. Morgana only knows what he could try next, and you’re stuck in a bloody masochistic haze of self-destruction.” She wasn't entirely wrong, on either point. The Mage truly does resent my continued existence. It’s his right. The one thing, perhaps, we both agree on. “What if I’m simply keeping my enemies close,” I said, doing my best to stretch my leg out in the cramped backseat. “And how exactly did you determine the Mage’s culpability in my kidnapping?” She shrugged, meeting my eyes briefly in the rearview mirror. “Why wouldn’t it be him. He’s capable of anything.” So are we.

I promise/hope really hard my fic won't be all angst, all the time. Levity happens when I'm able to spend time writing, getting into character, writing daily - things I'm not quite able to do yet. (Probably because I'm on Tumblr and Discord too much. It's basically the trolley problem on a less life-threatening scale.) So for now, it's angst, relatively pure and uncut.

Tags under the cut!

It's no longer Sunday, so consider these friendly shout-outs and hellos and what-not! @fatalfangirl @prettygoododds @hushed-chorus @brilla-brilla-estrellita @youarenevertooold @alleycat0306 @anxious-m3ss @ileadacharmedlife @whatevertheweather @nightimedreamersworld @cutestkilla @raenestee @aristocratic-otter @supercutedinosaurs @thewholelemon @ebbpettier @artsyunderstudy @ic3-que3n

#six sentences sunday #on Monday #But only technically #angst #as promised #or as threatened #however you view it I suppose #writing baz and fiona is like walking on a tightrope without a net #and this is basically my trial run #perhaps the angst here is my own #said every fanfic writer ever #snowbaz #baz pitch #fiona pitch #keep calm and #carry on #it's only tumblr #jodofic

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javelinspeachjam · 7 months ago

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The Monkie Kid Style Shift

(from the perspective of a fictive. i promise that's important)

To start, for those who are unaware of my existence bc you only know mills or just dont know us at all, hi! I'm Cicada, he/she pronouns, and I'm a Tang fictive. I wanted to give my opinion on all the shit that happened today, because I believe I and other fictives have unique experiences regarding source media changes :3

(the rest of the post will be under the cut, scroll away if you'd like to avoid spoilers from the trailer) (and, quick side note, NO MATTER WHAT I SAY HERE, PLEASE DO NOT HARASS ANYONE. CHRIST I CANT BELIEVE I HAVE TO SAY THIS, BUT PLEASE DO NOT HARASS REAL PEOPLE OVER THESE LEGOS. K? K.)

Okay, so we all know that Flying Bark's animation has always been an integral part to the spirit of Monkie Kid as a show, and is the main reason why a lot of people love it. As a semi source-connected fictive, seeing that style is like literally seeing me and my family in photographs.

like, y'all have no idea the emotional damage this shot specifically does to me whenever i see it.

and while, yes, there is a possibility that WildBrain can simply just be learning the style (hell, even FlyingBark had to kinda learn their own style in the early days), it's an extremely drastic change and, thus, is bound to cause collateral damage.

I love speaking about my husbands, for example, and the FlyingBark style luckily gives me a great outlet to do so (pignapped lives in my mind rent free).

However, and I can't speak for any other fictives, but the art style shift is kind of like if you watched your family get replaced by aliens or robots right in front of you and couldn't do anything about it. Stiff, doesn't really have a lot of character. I've seen people theorize that they're gonna be animating on rigs instead of handrawn, which matches up. That means, however, that we can't achieve awesome shots such as. every lbd scene ever.

I know plenty of Singlet but neurodivergent people who are also distressed about this, there's familiarity. Especially in my fellow autistic folk, that feels natural, good, and we wouldn't give it up for the world.

(We mod in one of the biggest Monkie Kid discord servers and, dear gods, the fucking backlash. we're all going through it.)

I'm kind of worried that this was pushed, not only because of the ATLA movie, but also because everyone on the staff team was worried because the fandom was antsy.

Can't speak for anyone else, but all the "save me s5" jokes I made were just light hearted, and I'd much rather have quality over quantity. Personally, i'd be willing to wait years for the next monkie kid season if it meant that we could still have it animated by FlyingBark.

Now, of course, this isn't what we're getting, and we'll have to accept that, I just think it should also be valid for fans to be reasonable skeptical at the quality, no matter if it's still the same writers and VAs. It's a huge change, and all I ask is that you're patient with me.

WildBrain is an amazing studio, but I'm not sure they can adjust to the shift in style. Of course, someone's bound to be dissatisfied with it, including myself, and I ask that y'all are patient with people like that. Don't say shit like "if you're a real fan, you wouldn't care about the art style change." That's not nice.

sorry if this isn't coherent in the slightest, I have been crying for a while for the reasoning i mentioned about feeling like I've lost a part of myself. This is terrifying for me, and i ask that you please be kind to others like me <3

anyways, follow if you wanna hear me yap ab BreakfastShipping

#dissociative identity disorder #rich's rambles #lego monkie kid #lmk season 5 #fictive #lmk season 5 spoilers

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tubbypeddle · 6 months ago

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Hey, heard you are taking requests for fics. May I ask for an angsty fic for part 3 of Jojo's where Jotaro is infected with a fleshbud?

HEHE! u must come from the Jojo discord 🤭 I saw this in one of the channels! and even if you didn't, it's a great idea that i was planning on writing anyway!!

ONE ANGSTY FIC COMING RIGHT UP!!

Stars Shining Bright Above You (Jotaro-centric)

(author's note: no nsfw in this one! a shocker, I know. Very angsty tho, and features other characters that will be in the tags! Contains mature language and minor violence! Enjoy!)

(also also, I might be so bad at writing angst, I don't usually write it 😭 so I'm sorry if it's not as angsty as you wanted)

"Jotaro!" Noriaki shouts into the darkness.

Mr. Joestar shivers. "We should never have split up. This was a horrible idea."

Splitting up in DIO's manor was probably the worst idea they've ever had. DIO was known to have many worshipers, and his damn mansion was probably crawling with them, waiting for the chance to kill them.

And now that they'd been separated, Jotaro was nowhere to be found. They had no pagers, no telephones, not even walkie-talkies. No way to contact him.

Noriaki hits Mr. Joestar on the shoulder. "Quit it, that isn't helping anything. We need to hold hope that Jotaro is fine."

He has to be. Noriaki doesn't know what he'd do if he isn't.

There's a clatter from behind them, and when Noriaki swivels his head around, he sees a chalice knocked to the ground from a shelf it was sat on. Rolled out from the shadows.

Okay. Not scary at all.

Mr. Joestar steps over to it, kneels down to pick it up. When he does, there's the sound of a Stand shimmering into existence and then he goes flying across the room.

Immediately, Noriaki summons his own Stand, on guard. Hierophant Green slithers over his shoulders protectively as the footsteps lead out into the light where the group can see their attacker.

Noriaki's jaw drops when Jotaro steps out into the light. His hat casts a shadow over his eyes, his shoulders are tense, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets. Star Platinum looks...off behind him. His usually expressive eyes are dim, his hair doesn't flow in whatever imaginary wind it always does.

"Jotaro?" Noriaki doesn't put Hierophant Green away. There's something weird going on that Noriaki doesn't trust. "What the hell are you doing?"

Jotaro doesn't answer him, which isn't exactly uncharacteristic. Noriaki's skin still crawls anyway.

Mr. Joestar comes stumbling back to Noriaki's side, hand clutched around his stomach where Star Platinum punched him. "Jotaro, what the hell are you doing?! This is no time to fool around!"

This causes Jotaro to finally look up, but something's wrong...His eyes don't focus on anything, his mouth is set into a dangerous scowl, unlike his usual one. Footsteps echo out from the darkness behind him, and DIO steps out into the moonlight.

His smirk is menacing.

"Do you see now, Jotaro?" he purrs, plants a hand on his shoulder. "Your friends don't trust you...they see you as the danger you truly are."

DIO's words seem to push Jotaro into action. Star Platinum descends on Mr. Joestar, who was closest to him, and swings his fist at his head. Mr. Joestar barely has enough time to jump back to dodge it. "Jotaro, what are you doing?!"

Jotaro doesn't answer, but DIO laughs maniacally. "You fools! I've already won! The Joestar bloodline ends with me!"

A disgustingly crude way to look at it, sure. DIO would, technically, be the last of the bloodline, if he killed Jotaro, and Mr. Joestar, and Miss Holy. Because of what he'd done with Jonathan Joestar's body.

It was sick, and cruel, and Noriaki can't wait to be rid of him.

The edge of Jotaro's hat flips up when he glares blankly at them, and Noriaki sees it. That damned flesh bud.

"Careful!" Noriaki cries to Mr. Joestar, dodges one of Jotaro's attacks. "DIO's put a flesh bud in him!"

Noriaki catches a glimpse of righteous anger flashing in Mr. Joestar's eyes. And he understands. DIO has already tortured his family enough; made his daughter fall deathly ill, killed his grandfather, and indirectly killed his father, too. Why must DIO make their family suffer more?

Hierophant Green slips over to meet Noriaki's eyes, and determination runs through his veins.

"Okay, Hierophant, we need to save him."

As always, Hierophant Green understands him on a fundamental level. Noriaki uses one of Hierophant's tentacles to swing over to Jotaro to get up close and personal. It seems to startle him because Star Platinum takes another swing at him.

"Jotaro! Listen to me!"

Jotaro sends Star Platinum after him again, but this one Noriaki easily dodges. He's getting sloppy. Or Star Platinum knows something is wrong. Star Platinum knows that Noriaki is a friend.

There has to be a chance. Jotaro is still in there. And besides. Noriaki still owes him for saving his life.

"Jotaro, stop!"

"Stupid boy," DIO mocked him from the sidelines. Simply watching, like this was an episode of Mister Roger's Neighborhood. "Jotaro doesn't quite know you anymore."

DIO's point is proven when Jotaro snarls and attacks Noriaki without the use of Star Platinum. Throws a punch straight for his face.

Noriaki hadn't been expecting it, and got caught right in the jaw. He went down like a sack of potatoes, the pain blooming in his face shortly after. His ears ring, and his vision doubles, but he can still see Jotaro's shoes approaching him from where he's sprawled out on the manor floor.

"Jojo.." Noriaki's voice makes Jotaro stop in his tracks, shoes skidding on marble and leaving ugly scuff marks.

DIO sits up straighter when Jotaro does. His voice is full of fake confidence as he says, "Who better to kill all of you rotten ingrates than your very own friend? Go on, Jotaro Kujo. Kill him."

Jotaro's body jerks, like that's what he wants to do, but he doesn't move from his spot. Noriaki takes the risk to reach his hand out to Jotaro's ankle, to grab at his leg. He runs the risk of Jotaro stomping on his hand, stomping on his head. But he's willing to risk that.

Because Jotaro is his friend. And he needs his help right now.

"Jojo. Come on. Remember why we came here. Remember what he's done to your mother."

Something like recognition flashes through Jotaro's eyes, but then it's gone, and all Noriaki sees before his vision goes black is Jotaro ripping his leg free from Noriaki's weak hand, and his leg raising to his chest to stomp it down on Noriaki's head.

Abdul never made it. And DIO's maniacal laughter echoes in his nightmares.

#jojo kimyou na bouken #jojos bizarre adventure #jjba part 3 #jjba stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #joseph joestar #dio brando #tubbypeddle #noriaki kakyoin

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watari-apologist · 8 months ago

Note

do you think there would have been watari/L shippers within the death note universe?

personally, i think pre-kira, there was a small fandom surrounding the top detectives like L, deneuve, and coil, and most of the people in the community would ship them amongst each other. but there would be a dedicated subsection of the fandom made up of mostly people whose favorite detective was L who were absolutely obsessed with watari/L. i feel like most of the fics would either be really soft fluff portraying them with a sort of king/knight dynamic, or shameless smut of a bdsm dom and his hyperobedient sub.

post-kira, the detective fandom tag on ao3 would get flooded by kira/L fans who are unfamiliar with the fandom's history, inside jokes, etc, thus causing the older fans (especially ones who like deneuve or coil more than L) and the watari/L fans to develop a superiority complex over the new fans since they're, like, veterans or something. i don't know

(teeeeechnically death note takes place at a point in time slightly before modern fandom, the way we know it, but let's pretend haha)

while that kind of fandom would definitely see a lot of new people joining (as is the case with most fandoms when A Big Thing Happens, in this case the lind l. tailor broadcast), the impetus of kira/L would probably still come from the og fans themselves. prior to the broadcast there'd be theorising on if/when L would get involved, i imagine, and a select few fans would already be writing kira/L fic. mostly a crackship thing at that point, you know.

(also there is DEFINITELY already kira rpf, which exists separately from the detectives fandom at the time, so kira/L is crossover created by the fans who are in both communities)

fic of L, deneuve and coil setting their differences aside voluntarily or being forced to team up in various couple or threesome constellations to solve the kira case - and have a lot of very plot relevant gay sex on the side - springs up almost immediately too. sometimes kira kills one of them to heighten the drama. L taking the case, getting killed and then deneuve and coil banding together to avenge him is a fan favourite.

the watari/L crowd are on the ball as well: you've got the obvious where one of them gets killed by kira and the other tearfully avenges them. you've got watari getting kidnapped to blackmail L (which was probably already pretty popular in watari/L fics tbh; it's just good angst). and of course that one writer who has every watari/L shipper scream praise and obscenities at them in the comment section because 50k words into a fic, they drop the reveal that watari was kira all along and L is completely at his mercy now and things get REALLY dark REALLY fast.

and then tailor gets killed live on television and L directly challenges kira. the few fans lucky(?) enough to live in the kanto region who actually saw the broadcast in person come in screaming and crying, first liveblogging what's happening and then posting recordings uploaded to youtube, and the fandom LOSES ITS MIND. it's the middle of the night for some of them, but it does not matter. everyone is blowing up the message boards (or discord channels, or wherever the fandom is congregating), the first few fic writers are already hard at work, fanart is being created, the 'lore' people are drawing extremely funny conclusions about L's personality based on this daring move of his. it's a wild night/day for everyone.

and then... well. the excitement is so intense that others from outside the fandom bubble take notice. probably also a healthy dose of people going "haha what if anyone shipped kira and L together and wrote fic what a hilarious and unlikely idea" and then being shocked when searching the pairing on ao3 - or whatever the in-uniserve equivalent would be - brings up actual results. screenshots get passed around, there's the first inklings of disdain from the uninitiated (isn't it weird to write fic about real people? isn't it kind of fucked up to write fic about real life crimes and murders, especially?), maybe a small news article reporting on the fandom as a curiosity. you know how it goes.

but all the attention doesn't just attract the ones who find it weird or creepy. more than a few people look at the idea of shipping kira/L - or making fan content of kira and/or L in general - and go "i hope this doesn't awaken anything in me" and then (spoiler alert) it definitely awakens something in them. here is where the big influx of new people happens - and while yes, some og fans would definitely be disgruntled by the upset, it's probably just a lot of excitement for the most part, a lot of art and fic and what have you being created because there are suddenly so many more people.

this would of course lead to ship wars (it always does lol) - the kira/L crowd, mostly newcomers, might not even know about deneuve and coil and watari because their only point of reference is the broadcast. cue the og fans creating big 'lore' summary posts with all the important info and fandom history. some of the new fans don't care and will never read them, but i like to think that it wouldn't be a stand-offish 'old vs new' mentality. fandom isn't about animosity, it's about showing the thing you like to other people.

the detectives fandom is pretty old; it has been around at least since L started solving cases, and there was probably a select few people who shipped coil and deneuve and other top detectives even before that. (hilariously, that means there were probably newbies who came into the detectives rpf fandom when L showed up and had to be lectured by those fandom olds back in the 90s or whenever haha)

of course there will always be bad eggs. people who look down on the newbies and go "i liked x before it was cool." you always have people like that, but they're not usually the majority. most fans would just be excited that there's suddenly so much happening in their previously so tiny community.

one thing that might ruffle a few feathers is the way L is portrayed visually. before, it was likely a tma jonathan sims situation where obviously nobody had any idea what L looked like, so there was sort of an agreed upon 'fanon' look for him that artists who drew him and writers who described him in text would reference. after the lind l. tailor broadcast, a lot of the new fans probably start drawing L as looking like tailor just because it's a convenient visual reference (and because tailor is admittedly kind of good looking. which of course brings with it the moral handwringing of whether it isn't kind of fucked up to draw fanart of a guy who got killed live on tv, and who was also a criminal on death row)

(also, consider the tiny subset of the fandom who ship L/tailor and make up AUs where he wasn't actually a criminal at all but L's childhood friend who has helped him solve cases all along and sacrificed himself for the greater good and L is mourning him fiercely. anyway)

then again, back when the fandom was tiny they probably also had their fair share of debate about what L and watari look like (and deneuve and coil, if they were anonymous detectives. otherwise they would get portrayed the way they look irl, obviously). tiny fandom wars were waged over their ages, their backstories, what the exact power dynamic is between them.

top L defenders go to bat for the master/servant dynamic while top watari fans shoot back that L could just as well order watari to top him, or even headcanon that watari is the one in control actually and L is just his mouthpiece. "watari didn't work for L; L worked for watari," as the german death note audio drama would put it (reset the clock, i've mentioned it again). watari gets drawn in the trenchcoat+hat+mask combo A LOT and it's generally agreed upon by watari/L shippers that L finds this outfit extremely hot and has ordered watari to keep it on during sex at least once.

also kira gets drawn as an eldritch horror creature with tentacles sometimes for obvious reasons. the doujinshi are wild.

og fandom in-jokes for your consideration:

personally apologising to L (primarily when posting smut) - the fandom likes to joke that L probably keeps tabs on what's being said about him online, mostly to squash attempts to locate/identify him and other nefarious plots, and is therefore probably at least tangentially aware that there's fanfic/art and stuff being made of him. opinions vary on 1) whether he reads any of it and 2) if he is actually secretly One Of Them

variation of that last point: "i'm not L." which is exactly what L would say if he were one of them, of course. there's one fan in particular who has been jokingly suspected of being L for years because of their really specific headcanons for him

watari's height - nobody has any hope of figuring out what L looks like, but there exist at least a few photos of watari and the fandom has been desperately trying to figure out how tall he is based on the height of the people he's been photographed standing near. general consensus is somewhere in the 5'10 area, but there's one person who stubbornly insists he's 6 feet (it's me. i'm that person)

there's an infamous watari/L crackfic where orgasming is the only way L can solve cases, and all that that entails. it's considered an integral part of their fandom's history and is one of the first things the new post-tailor broadcast fans are subjected to when they join

#original words #long post #this really got away from me whoops

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