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theturtlelovers · 8 months ago

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"Cum for me baby" from Don with his girlfriend please?

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Pairing: Donnie/fem!Reader Rating: Explicit Contents: Donnie is strangely overcome with the need to have you right then and there. Warnings: 18+, mdni, mating season, hickeys, creampies, unprotected p in v (wrap it up peeps) Wordcount: 1,594 Sentence Prompt: # 75

𝕊𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 ℙ𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕤

Notes: Excuse my poor attempt of being more poetic in my writing! Hope you enjoy!

Your presence was like a living temptation to him, as if every cell in your body was crafted to make him lose control around you. Carnally irresistible, Donnie found it impossible to keep his hands off of you. Earlier, he had tried with great effort to keep his eyes on the TV, but your scent drifted into his nostrils—so sweet and enticing. Overcome, he leaned down to breathe deeply in the crook of your neck.

The look you gave him almost made him shudder visibly. You appeared concerned by his sudden change in behavior, yet there was an undeniable excitement in your eyes as he ran his tongue over your pulse point.

He wasn't sure if something was wrong with him, but he wasn't entirely focused on figuring it out, as your soft gasps were far more captivating than anything else. His skin felt like it was on fire, and his glasses had become an irritation, so he quickly removed them and tossed them onto the coffee table. He didn’t need them anyway; you were close enough that he could clearly see your beautiful expressions.

Donnie was a turtle steeped in science, his expertise evident in the gadgets he wielded both in the lab and on patrol. He had deciphered ancient codes to deactivate a timed toxic bomb threatening New York City and uncovered the mysteries of the purple ooze. Yet, in your presence, all logic seemed to evaporate, leaving him a slave to his emotions. His instincts urged him to keep you selfishly close and immerse himself in your natural scent. He desired to fill the very being he worshiped with his essence so intensely that no one else could occupy your thoughts but him.

But as time stretched on, it seemed like hours had passed, and he was certain you were too overwhelmed to form a coherent thought. Your skin was flushed, adorned with a trail of red marks across your delicate skin—marks destined to deepen into purple.

It almost felt like your first time together, heated with a passion so intense that you couldn't stop trying to touch each other, yet tinged with nervousness due to a lack of familiarity with each other's physical needs. However, despite the similar rush of emotions, Donnie's hands never fumbled or shook with uncertainty. They moved with confidence and precision, driven by an eager desire to worship your very existence.

Just a tilt of your head was enough for him to capture your soft lips with his, sighing softly as he found a semblance of relief amidst his lustful haze. His large hands were intent on exploring the canvas of your body despite the fact he’s seen more times he can count, gently kneading your flesh, which was much softer than his own.

"Donnie..." Your whine pierced through his haze of desire.

He shuddered this time at the sound, murmuring, "So pretty and all for me.” The turtle licked his lips, dried from his heavy pants for air.

The space between your thighs glistened with a mixture of your juices and his essence—a beautiful concoction, Donnie might add. Despite the evidence that he had finished inside you several times, his attention remained laser-focused on your pleasure, his mind relentlessly urging him to give more and more. It would be remiss of him not to, especially when your lips parted so beautifully with each mewl that escaped them.

He pressed one hand firmly on your back to keep you pinned against the couch. A fleeting thought crossed his mind, wondering if a three-fingered imprint would remain, but it quickly dissipated as he became captivated by the way the sweat on your skin sparkle ethereally.

Seriously, were you a fallen angel hell-bent on cursing him to eternally crave your body? No matter how many times he made you cry out his name, no matter how tightly you clenched around him that is felt like you were pulling him deeper until he climaxed, he still wanted more. Or perhaps he needed more. Donnie couldn't tell anymore; his thoughts were so tangled that he couldn't distinguish desire from necessity. Either way, it seemed his body was surrendering to its own carnal instincts, relentlessly seeking release with you, in you.

Donnie muttered a curse under his breath as his free hand slipped beneath you, caressing the bundle of nerves that made your thighs begin to quiver. Your hands clutched weakly at the cushions, moaning with abandon.

He hissed through clenched teeth as he felt your inner walls tighten around him once more. "Come for me, baby. You can do it," he encouraged gently.

It was only a moment more before you released a stuttering squeal, your nectar coating him further as he continued to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. Donnie bit his lower lip as his torso lowered to brush against your back, emitting a groan and a deep, reverberating churr that would make Raph envious. He pushed himself as deep as he could inside you as he came. Your smaller hand clung to the wrist of the hand between your legs, panting loudly.

Finally, Donnie's mind began to clear, his intense sexual need appearing to wane and find satisfaction. He hoped he hadn't pushed you too far.

You seemed to recognize that it was over when Donnie didn’t immediately resume thrusting into you with his previous unrestrained vigor. Slumping beneath him, you felt his weight relax as he lazily placed kisses on the hickeys decorating your shoulders. Both of you appeared content to remain in your current position, with him still inside you, enjoying the quiet aftermath together.

"Holy shit..." you mumbled.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Too much?"

You shook your head. "No, no. It was amazing! I just don't know what came over you so suddenly.”

“I actually don’t know either,” Donnie hummed thoughtfully. Carefully, he pulled away and slipped out from the comfort of your warmth. He had to restrain himself and look away when he heard you release a small whine, feeling the emptiness and his essence dripping down your inner thigh.

Donnie quickly put his glasses back on and walked away to grab some water and a towel for you. While he was gone for that brief moment, you sat up, grimacing from the familiar soreness setting in. You hadn't felt this achy in over two years, back when you were both fresh adults, newly eager to explore the beginnings of your sexual life together.

Once your turtle lover returned, he insisted on helping you clean up despite your protests about him being just as messy. Nevertheless, he was determined, so you let him help subconsciously avoiding your inner folds to leave them coated with his essence. After ensuring you were comfortable, he took care of himself.

After redressing lightly, you headed into the kitchen, taking the water Donnie had provided with you. Following a session like that, you definitely needed some food. Donnie, meanwhile, simply pulled up his underwear and lingered in the kitchen, watching you closely. His instincts urged him to stay nearby.

His mind was still slightly clouded from the spontaneous moment, but not enough to impair his decision-making. He had a gut feeling that the intense desire might return. It was confusing, though, why such behavior was manifesting in the first place, especially since nothing specific seemed to trigger his sudden, overwhelming urge to take you right then and there on the couch.

And your poor couch. It was probably ruined from your activities now. You two had used it like dogs in heat. Huh. Like dogs in heat. In heat. Heat. Heat!

Donnie's eyes widened impossibly with realization. He and his brothers were now at a sexually mature age. Furthermore, it was that time of year—mating season for red-eared sliders, when they succumb to their need to breed.

Oh God, he was in heat and completely unprepared for it. He cringed at the thought of what his brothers must be enduring without a partner to satisfy their reproductive urges. He guessed it was wrong to assume they wouldn’t experience it just because they hadn't felt it immediately after reaching puberty. Casting a long glance in your direction as you prepared packaged ramen, Donnie walked into the living room to grab his phone and sent Leo a text. It was around this time that his family usually gathered for dinner.

Donnie: How’s things going at the lair?

The self-taught scientist received a swift reply from Leo, who was always prompt when responding to Donnie, knowing it wouldn’t be just another meme or silly pun. Unlike Raph and Mikey, who enjoyed sending Leo those sorts of messages just to tease him.

Leo: Everything fine

Leo: Why? Should there be something happening?

Donnie lifted a brow. Donnie: No, no! I was just checking in! See ya later He set his phone down on the coffee table, his lips pursing in confusion. Leo wasn’t one to mislead about the state of their close-knit family, so surely everything was fine with them. It seemed the issue was just with him. Perhaps it was because he was the only one among his brothers who had any sort of sexual experience.

Donnie turned at the sound of your feet pattering across the floor as you returned with two bowls of steaming ramen. He couldn't really complain. Not when you approached him, your body adorned with such beautiful marks, a testament to the intensity of their earlier moments together.

Since you were around, maybe this experience won’t be so bad.

Tagging: @mrghostings, @whygz @supershiny-raven Interested in getting tagged? Come check it out!

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#tmnt bayverse #tmnt #tmnt donatello #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt x reader smut #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt 2014 x reader #tmnt 2016 x reader

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miwiheroes · 4 months ago

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Full Airport Scene Analysis

I've seen like, a lot of people do analyses of the airport scene, but they often do it in parts when I just want to fully hone in on the whole ass scene and give it a full run-down. So, get ready for this post to be extremely long.

So, the camera pans across from Argyle and Jonathan looking super bored and tired to both Will and El, and I think this is actually very clever. Before this scene, you're not really sure who Will is in love with or who he made the painting for. The fact that the audience may remember El saying 'i think there is someone he likes' and then see how Will is holding the painting so proudly means that they subconsciously realise, oh the painting is for Mike meaning -- Will has feelings for Mike. Note how the juxtaposition between Argyle and Jonathan's demeanour and Will and El's demeanour further showcases how they feel the same way about him (supposedly).

Also this is random, but watching this scene over and over again made me realise that Will's is literally shaking so much in this scene. (WATCH HIS HAND WHEN EL IS LOOKING FOR MIKE)

youtube

Now let's talk about Mike's outfit (yes this isn't just talking about how ass it is)

So in the amazing GQ video on youtube, the costume designer talks about how Mike probably bought this outfit at the airport. He's dressing up how he thinks he should in California -- the double meaning being that he is trying to 'be more normal' as Finn Wolfhard says in another interview.

In this scene we know that Mike's trying really hard to push down his feelings about Will, he's trying to seem like he fits in, and in the GQ video, Amy Parris talks about how 'it's bright, it's not a colour Mike normally wears'. Orange and purple? Mike usually wears blue..... and yellow........... i mean what

I guess you could say that in a more surface-y way, he's trying to fit in by wearing something less edgy than he would normally wear, but if you look deeper into the colour coding of byler, he's trying to disconnect himself from Will because of him trying to deny his feelings. Will is wearing blue in this scene, but Mike's wearing orange, showing the disconnect between them in the scenes with these outfits on. I know a lot of people say he's wearing yellow, but nah, it's orange and that's actually more proof that he's trying to hide his feelings for Will.

Also this is another quote from Parris: 'he's worn teal before, so it felt like orange was the best colour that was different from his closet that felt like he was trying to make it work in california.'

And it's not like they just forgot the colour coding for byler. I mean, there's blue and yellow in this shot of Mike when we first see his outfit.

Can you spot it?

Okay moving on

In the first and last Milkvan kissing scene, it is important to note that the directors of the show are very intentional with the extras and where they move to during the scenes. During the shot of them kissing, the camera is focused on them, yes, but it is very busy. Watch the shippers try to edit this scene, the duffers really said.

Firstly, Mike is wearing a visor, he's holding a bag so he can barely hug her, he's also wearing sunglasses inside?? You can't see his facial expression, further showing this season is not in his pov. Not only that, but people are moving in front of the camera, it's very very busy. It's supposed to be a little overwhelming. I could barely take a screenshot without someone walking in front of the camera... like that is not a coincidence, they aren't filming in an actual busy airport. So so many extras walk in front of them during the whole scene, not just the kiss, but while they are speaking as well.

When El goes to hug him, as soon as she does, he makes a little noise of protest or something and is like 'careful, careful' almost like he put the flowers in front of them on purpose so there's like an excuse for them to stop hugging? They then stop hugging and he finally takes off his glasses so we can see his face.

He is wearing sunglasses only in the parts where he's being slightly intimate with his girlfriend -- eyes are windows into the soul, no? Without them being seen, you wouldn't be able to tell what he is thinking, and he needs these in these intimate moments especially, in case anyone notices something's wrong.

Okay now we go onto the flower theory thing, and there are many things to unpack here, and stuff that I personally don't believe, and some theories that I do.

What is super clear to me is that these flowers are the exact same dead flowers that El picks up at the end of season 4 to signify that her relationship with Mike is.... dead (sorry if that's kind of on the nose). However, it is also key to note that Mike says that he 'handpicked' them for her in Hawkins, which on the surface makes it seem like he made more effort, but really this actually sets up the fact that they are the same flowers that can be found on the field. If he bought them in the shop, they may not be the exact same flowers in the last scene.

So Mike says 'I know you like yellow, but now I'm realising it's too much yellow'. The writers of the show did not have to put that in, let's just think about that for a moment. What was the reason for putting this line in? And the '70-30' split line is also very very specific.

Will's colour in the byler colour coding is yellow, it has been subconsciously put into our minds ever since they started colour coding them, for example the s3 netflix icons, the shirt he wears for the majority of s4 and the lights over his head in Rink-o-mania.

Personally, I think this might be a bit of a reach, but could Mike just simply mean that he was thinking too much about Will, in his opinion? Like subconsciously he kind of added lots of yellow because he was thinking of Will when he was thinking of El.

As for the 'So I sort of did a 70-30 split thing' line, I'm not really sure what this means. It could mean that he's putting in 30% of the relationship because he also added 30% purple flowers which symbolises what he's putting into the relationship. Meanwhile, El's favourite colour of flower has a 70% weight in the bouquet, meaning she's putting more into the relationship.

It's also worthy to see that El looks at the note which has 'From, Mike' on it right as he's saying all this stuff about the yellow flowers, and the music dies down from this joyful tone to a sombre one, kind of showing how the yellow flowers are a symbol for something.

Now, before this ^^, the only problem that we think is going on in Mike and El's relationship is the fact that El's lying to him about having friends and not being bullied. But now we have a possible reason. She is insecure about their relationship and how real it is. Her face says everything, she notices it, she then tries to ignore it and tells herself everything is fine.

The audience notices this, obviously, and is like??? wait what's going on? Why does it say 'from Mike'?

They get the answer real quick.

Because right after this, is when Will bounds over.

They shot it so that he's kind of in between them, subconsciously placing a thought or idea in the audience's head about what the problem is between Mike and El, even though it's very implicit at this point. The audience should also have the slight idea in this scene that Will has feelings for Mike, and they get reminded of this fact when they see Will in the background. They're then like.... oh so that's why they having problems? Damn....

Before El even stops speaking, Mike sees Will. We can tell from the way that he literally takes his eyes off El and goes 'oh,' before doing the second 'oh!'. I bet if this was shot so you could see his face, this would be way more obvious, but they shot it so that we could see Will's initial happiness at seeing Mike instead.

Awkward bro hug... um yeah so this is one of the biggest byler proofs to me. I mean, why would you need to hug your best friend like that? When you are perfectly fine at hugging your other male friends? (He hugged Dustin in the first episode btw).

Given everything that we know so far, that Will has feelings for Mike because he made him the painting that El said is for someone he likes; that there must be problems going on in the Milkvan relationship; that Mike is hiding his face and dressing unlike normal.... yeah he's trying to repress something. He won't let himself hug his best friend. Will is acting normal, they could have made him the one not to hug Mike because he is in love with him, but they didn't.

Also, unlike the Milkvan reunion, his face and his reaction can be very easily seen here. They literally zoom in on both their reactions to seeing each other because it is more important than Mike and El's reunion. This is what the scene is about!! It's main focus is on the development of byler and the breakdown of Milkvan. There are like very little extras passing across the camera because the directors want you to focus on their reactions here and how Will and Mike are feeling.

Obviously, Will is dejected but Mike's reaction is more telling. On the right gif, he looks down. Maybe he sees Will's painting and remembers what El told him, which was that it was for someone that Will likes. In my opinion, Mike does not know that it is for him. In Finn's words: 'I don't think he knows'.

After seeing that painting, he instantly looks to other people for their reactions to the hug, maybe being like, hey guys was that normal enough? Did anyone see that? Showing how he cares about the opinions of those around him or maybe that he doesn't want to look at Will for much longer idk.

After that...

Okay so now he's ready to ask about the painting. There's a beat, then he asks 'Uh, what's that' in this kind of breathy, panicky voice. It's not a casual tone at all, it's very tense, and the audience can tell, because this makes the audience tense too. When I first watched it I was like AHHH because oh shit. He asks it like he knows something is up with it, he knows that Will made it and it's significant.

The next shot is a slide-up from the painting to Will's face. This could be in Mike's pov to show that he was looking Will up and down, and this shot is inherently kind of romantic in that way. Either that or it's simply just to focus on the painting before showing what Will's going to say so that the audience know he's talking about the painting.

You can kind of see the cogs working in Will's head in the very little time between 'um' and 'it's nothing', as he realises that he probably shouldn't show Mike the painting based on how Mike didn't hug him.

Also notice how in the gif, an extra walks by the camera as soon as Will is not entirely truthful, so why would this not be done with El and Mike's reunion scene??

Now, this further pushes the agenda that Mike didn't hug Will because of his feelings for him. The audience already knows that this painting is supposed to be a gift for someone that Will 'likes' based on El's letter to Mike at the beginning. The fact that Will no longer feels comfortable with sharing that painting means that he is more unsure of Mike's feelings now that he's seen him irl.

However, the way that Mike goes cool is supposed to be weird. It's supposed to show the audience that he's pretending. I honestly don't know whether it's bias or the directors or the writers or the actors somehow made it this way but the speed at which Mike says 'cool' kind of just implies that he was not ready for that kind of confrontation. He was not ready to confront his feelings or enter into an interaction with Will about the painting. Because it means he can't deny the fact that he's jealous of Will having a crush on some girl. So he quickly shut it down.

He doesn't want to feel the disappointment that Will just basically confirmed the painting isn't for him.

In season 3, he is very interested in knowing who Suzie is, Dustin's girlfriend, but when he knows that Will has made a painting for a girl he likes, he doesn't bother asking at all what it is or who the girl is. He doesn't want to acknowledge it.

Also, the fact he wasn't ready to feel like this and is so focused on Will is shown by how startled he is by other people breaking the moment.

Now this next part is so funny given what we have already been presented with. We already know that Mike is self-conscious about hugging his supposed best friend, and that he does not want to confront his feelings about the painting. He is trying to be someone else because he is wearing unusual clothes for him, trying to seem like a normal person in California. He didn't want to hug his best friend because he wants to seem normal. He's out of character.

"Oh no, no. It's a shitty knockoff."

Laughing my whole ass off.

This ties the whole scene together. It makes the audience go OHHH right he's just been pretending this whole time (if they have any sense). It's genius writing. Without Argyle saying this, we might never really have full confirmation on whether he is really out of character or whether this is just how he has always been. NO, he is lying to himself. He is pretending.

They did not have to make Argyle say this. Ever heard of double meanings folks?

And Mike's reaction?

This reaction has always kind of been interesting to me. How would you assume how Mike would react to someone insulting him? Usually he would scowl or look annoyed but here he doesn't, he almost looks worried. Like oh no he's just been found out lmao

After this there's an awkward moment spurred on by Argyle Mike's like 'yeah this is so awkward'.

Now, since I'm literally Mike and he is me, I know what he's doing here by saying this.

I've done it before, it's where you kind of say that it's really awkward in order to make it seem like you're not the one making it awkward, like you're blaming other people (which he always does).

But Michael, it's kind of your fault?? Like, you didn't have to do the bro tap, you also didn't have to act that way around Argyle.

BRO WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH NOW LMAOOOO THIS IS SUCH A LONG POST

Now onto the next part, where El is talking about Rink-o-mania and she starts lying again. I have watched this scene over and over and literally Mike barely looks at her once, while he glances at Will multiple times. I feel like audience members don't catch this explicitly, but subconsciously, they can sense that there is tension between the two because of the way that Will is placed during this scene…

I counted them up in this video and Mike glances at Will..

6 Times

Just want to say before we talk about each glance, this scene is extremely telling. It tells you exactly, through subtext, what the atmosphere between Will, Mike and El is going to be like throughout the season/ the beginning of the season. It's textbook foreshadowing.

Will is standing off to the side while Mike has his arm like really tightly around El. They could have had this scene be a cute scene between Milkvan because of how close they are, but instead this scene is about Will's sadness, about how he was ignored by Mike. He's still holding the painting, so the audience are still aware of its existence and what it could imply for Mike and El's relationship.

This scene is also about El lying! Not about how 'cute' Mike and El are.

Okay so here is me talking about every single glance <3

"Wha- Really?" -- Could Mike make it clearer if he tried? I think this is the most obvious one that the audience could easily catch, if they are watching without distraction. Which is important, because it is the first one. He stutters over his words when he realises that Will is looking back at him. Sound familiar? In a much more obvious scene, he does this with the triple take in the desert... It's also kind of clear that they looked at each other because Mike and Will look down/ away straight after Mike goes 'wha-'

"Trust me" "No I trust you" -- So this one's a little more subtle and maybe to the audience it could seem like Mike's looking at El, but then the camera turns to focus directly on Will and him looking at Mike with disappointment. I don't think he's upset about Mike completely ignoring him, but he's upset about this weird little awkward dance they're doing. The reaction from Will is because of the uncertainty. The fact they focus on Will with a single shot at all instantly makes this scene about his emotions primarily. This becomes a pattern.

"Rink-o-mania..." -- This one's also super subtle. I'm not even sure why Mike looked at Will here, but it is clear that he's not looking at El, if you want to slow it down then you ig. Maybe he sensed that Will was staring at him just a few seconds prior.

"Are your friends gonna meet us there?" -- Even though he is speaking to El, he looks at Will. This kind of shows that even when he is supposedly thinking about El and what they are going to do together, subconsciously, his mind is still on Will. This can then be seen in the Rink-o-mania argument when it is revealed that he has been focusing on Will's reactions all day when the audience believes originally that he was ignoring him: "You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking, you basically sabotaged the whole day!" Mike, Mike, Mike. Your girlfriend being bullied didn't ruin the day, Will being pissy to you did? ANYWAYS THIS ISNT ABOUT RINKOMANIA JHDGASJHDG

"Friends what friends?" -- So this fifth one is kind of ambiguous because he has his visor on, hiding his expression and where his eyes are looking. But you can see with the way his head turned, that he was looking at Will because of the way he said "Friends what friends?" This is probably just Mike being confused on what's going on, then. BUT it is another thing that makes this whole scene not about 'uwu mike and el awww' but about Will's feelings or the fact that El's lying and the unstableness of their relationship.

"Angela?" -- This one is very notable. Firstly, here is what we know: Mike knows about the fact that Will has probably done the painting for a 'girl he likes'. Mike thinks that this 'girl' isn't him because Will says 'it's nothing'. Mike maybe thinks that El's friends are also Will's friends. AND Mike does not want to ask Will about the girl he likes because he doesn't want to know about Will liking someone else/ he does not want to confront his own feelings. So, The way that Mike looks at Will with that kind of dead expression, (and he actually does a little double take) is super duper telling. You don't know what he's thinking but if you read into it, he could be thinking that Will was feeling hopeful that Angela would come and is kind of nervous for it.

Finally, El says "I want this day to be about me and you!" which is meant to be ironic. The showrunners would not have put this little line in if it wasn't supposed to be funny tbh..... like this whole scene was about how El was lying and she's suddenly saying it's just about them.

Because of what she says as well, Will rolls his eyes and crushes his painting a bit. (HEARTBREAKING)... The fact that he rolls his eyes is probably just him being annoyed about what she said, because it further makes him feel like the third wheel. The scene ends with his eye roll, emphasising how this whole scene was about how Will is feeling, not the "Main Couple Of The Show tm??" But alsoooo, he crushes the painting :(((( meaning he was also feeling heartbroken a little by the fact that they are acting very coupley and Mike doesn't seem to care about him oops, since the painting is for him.

OKAY IM DONE LMAOOOO

In conclusion, this scene is about byler in the first half, and the flaws of Milkvan and Will's feelings in the second half. This scene is meant to foreshadow the arc between Will, El and Mike which transpires in the rest of the season. The bro tap is the gayest thing I've ever seen, and did not have to be included in this scene. It could have been Will that was awkward. It shows that Mike has changed. He has changed ever since Will moved away and he had that realisation. In season 3, Mike seems confused, unaware of his feelings. But now, in this scene, in only 2 minutes, we know for sure that Mike is in denial. He knows.

Anyways

Byler Endgame.

#byler #byler endgame #byler nation #mike wheeler #will byers #mike wheeler is gay #byler evidence #byler proof #byler is canon king??????? (sorry)

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gatheringbones · 1 year ago

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[“Terry’s hair was long & thick, bleached blond, perhaps because she wanted to be a princess in a fairy tale instead of real. We wrote letters to one another, passionately declaring our eternal love, which the technicians stole. One night when she was sitting on my bed in the dorm after lights out, as I brushed her hair, they threw on the lights in a frenzy of disgust & separated us for being lesbians. We were too drugged and too frightened to do more than hold hands. The head nurse was a lesbian, who called Terry’s mother, who came the next day to take her home to her psychiatrist father, to whom she had not spoken in over four years. I was sent to the old women’s ward for punishment, where my job was to feed the bed-bound ladies, some of them in restraints all the time. The stench of urine & untreated cancer was overwhelming. I wrote long, intense letters to Terry, which I could not send, hiding them under my green plastic mattress. Terry’s stars are deep burgundy, & I bleed into the other colors when I mourn that we never made love.

Then Maggie was dragged onto our ward, in hot pink tights & purple smock, her teeth glittering with mischief Far from being depressed by the surroundings, she sang bawdy songs to the old ladies she fed, opening our misery with laughter. She was from a wealthy Marin family who sent her there to straighten her up & scare her into agreeing to marry the man they wanted to sell her off to, although they wouldn’t say it like that (she did). Somehow her wedding veil was among her belongings. She liked to wear it to the vast dining barrack because it annoyed the nurses so much. It was very beautiful, expensive lace which she trailed behind her like indifference. One day Maggie & I decided to get married. The guy who thought he was jesus was happy to perform our ceremony, held in the courtyard of our adjoining wards, surrounded by hundreds of old glass windows barred with iron grates. I wore Maggie’s veil & my Napa State Hospital white cardigan tied to make a train. We both carried huge bouquets of lilacs, which were blooming wildly in that hot, dry country. All our patient guests cheered & clapped so loudly that we couldn’t hear what jesus was saying. We only got to stroll down the sidewalk, showered with rice that Edith had filched from the kitchen where she was one of the cooks, before our union was rudely interrupted by burly male guards straining with anger in their white uniforms.

Everyone was locked down, some of us in solitary, & the bells went off for riot alert. Maggie’s poor veil was ripped apart by their feet & rage & arms. The head nurse (another lesbian) called Maggie’s mother that night, & before I had a chance to kiss her hello & goodbye, Maggie was driven away the next morning in her father’s limp-dick limo (her words again), as we ate our powdered eggs, silently depressed.

However, Maggie was a very sneaky & smart girl. She calmly arrived the following day in her VW bug (custom-painted purple, as are her stars) & said she had come back to collect her belongings, which no one had thought to pack up. Her mother, a master materialist (probably hoping for the veil), was very understanding. The hospital wanted to be accommodating in hope of future funds. So Maggie surprised me by returning to busily pack up not very much. We weren’t allowed to talk, & the nurses were watching us sharply until Ursula, understanding our need, threw her tennis shoe at the TV, screaming. Maggie palmed me a note to meet her by the lilac hedge behind the building, where she had conveniently parked. I left as though going to my new job at the dairy (cow shit apparently being a step up from human shit). The other women realized Ursula’s intentions & took off their keds, too. My last sight of that day room (where I had been declared incurably schizophrenic) was of flying sneakers, screaming technicians, breaking glass, & laughing patients—a really lovely melee. Because, of course, Maggie had returned to rescue me. We pulled out the backseat of her bug & I lay down across the battery. She laid a Mexican blanket over me, while I tried to project looking like a backseat. She piled her boxes, mostly empty, on top of me. The guards at the main gate were distracted by another call from the ward where the women who weren’t strapped down could not be contained. Maggie smiled, they gave her back her driver’s license, & off we went. On the other side of town, Maggie freed me from my seat charade & I tasted the wind in my hair for the first time in more than a year. She drove me to Big Sur, where I’d never been & they wouldn’t look for me (I had seven previous escapes, which is why I was on the violent ward so often, a curious juxtaposition—is freedom indeed violence, for lesbians?). In her trunk she had a sleeping bag, some food, money, & clothes that didn’t say Napa State on them for me. She dropped me near an overpass under which fellow fugitives of all kinds were camped, driving back to Marin, where perhaps she did escape marrying him. My belongings & three cartons of writing may still be in a dusty storage room at Napa. I guess I’m AWOL. Freedom’s worth the loss. If not for Maggie, I’d still be in the loony bin, incurable & terrified, not allowed to be a lesbian except with technicians. But I ripped that nurse out of the quilt.

Big Sur was rich with empty summer houses we raided for canned goods as a gang of teenage runaways, Vietnam War deserters, Rez escapees & drug dealers. We caught and roasted a wild pig. We hid out from the park rangers. We flirted with soldiers from the base for bags of potato chips, Hostess lemon pies, & chocolate bars. It was my theory we wouldn’t get scurvy if we ate the pies. We dropped acid & had orgies & stole into the mud baths at night. I was in a fog & detoxing from the nuthouse drugs, until one dusk when my eyes became diamond sharp at the sight of a thin young guy getting out of a hitchhiking ride at the convenience store near the campgrounds. He had black wavy hair cut in a DA falling forward over his face, wearing a leather motorcycle jacket that oozed sex. Our eyes caught across the parking lot & I fell in love like slamming into earth. I walked over, offering my open bag of BBQ pork rinds. Her reaching hand made me laugh & I blurted out, “I thought you were a guy.” She looked me up & down intensely, startled me by stroking my crotch with a quick secret movement, & growled, “Good.”]

chrystos, from cherry picker, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000

#chrystos #lesbian literature #terra preta #cw abuse #mad pride

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starlightrosa · 8 months ago

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LEE POMNI PLSS lers jax or ragatha or both maybe they had a sleepover in the circus or pillow fight turned tickle fight <33

Oh anon, that's such a wonderful prompt! I hope you enjoy, my dear :)

Giggly Jester

Summary: A simple pillow fight ends in a very ticklish way for a certain jester.

Word Count: 2.0k

Warning: slight intrusive thoughts for Pomni (in bold, there's only one though)

Enjoy! (First time writing TADC ever, hope u like it my dear :D)

Life in the Digital Circus was… interesting, to say the least. And very… unique characters too. A ringleader with a pair of teeth for a head, a doll who was probably the nicest of the lot, a sarcastic purple bunny, a chess piece who was slowly going insane, a sentient ribbon who cried when her mask was broken, whatever the hell “Zooble” was supposed to be… yes, that was what Pomni was given to work with when she had put on that fateful headset, and was transported to The Amazing Digital Circus.

The ringleader, a guy called Caine, had set up adventures with the whole crew on Pomni’s first day, which consisted of gathering up some creatures called “Gloinks.” Unsurprisingly, Caine’s latest “adventure” wasn’t very well received by any of the Digital Circus members, least of all Pomni. A new girl to the circus and its whimsy wonder, it was very easy for the poor dear to get a bit overwhelmed, and Pomni was trying her best to process in her very colourful room.

That was when Caine popped into existence in her room, scaring the poor jester so much that her jester hat fell off and hit the floor with a comical splat, her little musical bells jangling as they made contact with the ground of her room.

“Wake up, Pomni!”

“AAAH! Oh my God! Caine, don’t do that!” Pomni implored, the jester clutching at her digital chest, feeling her heart pumping beneath the pale skin. Caine tutted and waggled his gloved finger as Pomni picked her hat back up and jammed it back on her head.

“Now, now, Pomni. Don’t be such a jumpy Josie! I just wanted to make sure you’d hear me. Jax and Ragatha would like to meet you at the main stage. They have an idea to help you get acquainted with your new life here in the Digital Circus. And we all know that I, as the ringleader, fully endorse any idea to make you comfortable here.”

“Ragatha and Jax? Oh no…” Pomni muttered. Ragatha was nice, sure… but Jax? That sarcastic lilac rabbit only ever liked to see funny things happen to people, regardless of intentions. Pomni was sure nothing good could come from being with Jax.

“Come along, Pomni! Let us not dilly dally, or dally dilly for that matter!” Caine urged, grabbing Pomni by the waist. With a snap of his gloved fingers, Pomni was transported to the main stage. She felt really dizzy after the fact, her colourful irises whirling about in her head briefly before her vision managed to correct.

She turned around to scold Caine for doing that, but the AI had vanished. Pomni sighed and looked around.

“Ragatha? J-Jax?” Pomni called, walking forward in the dark. Why were the lights off?

“Heads up!” came the only warning call before Pomni’s face met something soft, startling her. BIFF!

The lights clicked on and Pomni looked down to see… a pillow? Just a regular pillow that had been thrown at her. She looked back up to see Ragatha making her way towards her.

“Jax, you didn’t need to do that! You could have hurt her!” the doll scolded.

“Calm your stitches, Ragdoll. It’s only a pillow. Couldn’t hurt the new sucker with one of these if I tried.” Jax muttered, the rabbit’s ear twitching a bit in slight annoyance. He couldn’t do anything fun here, geez.

“You aren’t hurt, are you Pomni?” Ragatha asked, gently searching her face for injury. Pomni shook her head, her nerves hitting her again.

“Why are we here? Why do you have pillows?” Pomni asked, noting that Ragatha was holding one too.

“Hey, Kinger wasn’t using ‘em for once. He’s enjoying his little bug buddies, so me and Ragdoll decided to come up with a plan to make ya relax more.” Jax responded.

“Are you familiar with the concept of a pillow fight, Pomni?” Ragatha gently asked, smiling softly at the jumpy joker with her pinwheel eyes.

Pomni racked her brains. She used to have pillow fights with friends back when she was little. But trying to remember her life in the real, human world was becoming more difficult by the day. Pomni didn’t want to forget, but it seemed like that was an eventuality. She couldn’t even remember her human name.

I don’t wanna forget. But I can’t remember.

“Hey, shortstack. You still in there?” Jax asked, getting bored at Pomni’s long silence. “Don’t tell me we gotta teach her what a pillow fight is.”

“Shut up, Jax. Pomni? You in there?” Ragatha asked, keeping her voice calm. “Pomni, come on out of there. Don’t fall down the rabbit hole again.”

“S-Sorry…” Pomni stammered, coming back to reality again. She already had blushing makeup on her avatar, but Pomni still felt a slight red rush claim her pale face.

“Don’t apologise, Pom. You’re gonna be okay. Promise.” Ragatha smiled, and Pomni felt her shoulders gently untense the tiniest bit. Ragatha was very comforting in this strange world of whimsical wonder.

“This is all so adorable, but can we get this goin’ already?” Jax asked, holding a pillow in his arms.

“Oh yeah. So Pomni, basically this is just a way of goofing off, having fun, y’know? We’re gonna have a pillow fight. Pick up that pillow over there and when I say go, we begin. Okay?”

“Alright, sure…” Pomni said, going to where Ragatha instructed and scooping her feathery weapon off the ground. The pillow felt weirdly comforting in her arms. Maybe she could keep it.

“Alright. And… go!” Ragatha called, the three of them immediately whirling their pillows around. Pomni got a good few shots on Jax because of her smaller height, only for Ragatha to even the score. Feathers were comically flying everywhere, showering the trio in a fluffy rain. Ragatha was giggling, Jax was snickering, and Pomni slowly joined this melody of laughter as they whacked each other with pillows. This was actually… fun!

But feathers tend to stick, my friends. Specifically, tend to stick on clothes. And the first one to feel this was Pomni. She began to feel something lightly brushing at her collarbones and neck. She stopped and put her pillow down to try and pull these feathers from her clothes. Which meant she was no longer on guard.

And Jax hit her with a pillow. But he had sneakily opened his pillowcase and upended the feathers inside Pomni’s clothes. Pomni squeaked and started to wriggle immediately, the feathers brushing and reaching to more places the longer she wriggled.

“Ha! You look like a moulting chicken, shortstack!” Jax teased. Pomni’s laughter grew louder as she could no longer remain standing, the jumpy jester now lying on the floor and giggling to herself as these feathers were stuck deep in her clothes.

Jax chuckled at Pomni’s little predicament. “Welp. Guess that’s feathers one, Pomni zero.”

“Jahahahax! It’s tickling! The f-feheheheathers! They’re tickling mehehe!” Pomni answered back. Ragatha chuckled and put her pillow down, approaching Pomni with Jax in tow.

“C’mere, Pomni. Try to hold still, and we’ll see if we can get these feathers out of your clothes.”

“Ah, c’mon. Can’t we just leave her like this, Ragdoll? It’s much funnier seeing her laugh, you know~” Jax protested, a particularly shrill squeal from Pomni cutting off the next thing he was going to say.

Ragatha wasn’t listening. She gently sat on the left side of Pomni, as Jax took the right side. The two flashed a cheeky smile down at Pomni, as Ragatha saw the amount of feathers stuck in Pomni’s clothes. In her collar, her shirt, her sleeves too. And all the while, Pomni was lost in a world of tickle-induced giggles.

“Hehehelp mehehe!” Pomni begged, causing Ragatha to chuckle as she held Pomni in her arms, while Jax reached for the feathers. He snuck his gloved hands up her shirt and grabbed some of the feathers. He began to slowly drag them down her stomach as he worked to pull them out, taking his sweet time just so he could hear more of Pomni’s laughter.

“Nohohoho, Jahahax! D-Don’t dohohoho thahahat!” Pomni squealed, trying her best to squirm, but Ragatha held her still. Pomni’s legs kicked in an effort to release some of that ticklish energy. Jax just laughed.

“We’re tryin’ to help ya, kid. And you just keep laughin’! What’s so funny, Pomni? Are these feathers t-t-tickling? Are they, Pomni?”

Pomni felt herself blush even more at Jax’s words.

“No teheheheasing!” Pomni squeaked, trying to cover her face. But then Ragatha simply held Pomni’s hands in hers, preventing her from shielding any tickle spots.

“Your smile is adorable, Pom-Pom. Tickle, tickle, giggly jester~” Ragatha cooed, smirking mischievously as Pomni’s laughter increased on hearing the nickname.

Pomni could barely fight back. These feathers tickled like anything, and Jax removing them so slowly was not helping. Pomni was lost in a world of tickly feathers, and she just couldn’t do anything but laugh and half-heartedly squirm in Ragatha’s arms.

Yet somewhere in the back of Pomni’s mind, she supposed this wasn’t the worst thing to happen to her in the circus. Not by a long shot. Compared to everything else that had happened, this was actually… nice.

“Enjoying yourself, Pomni?” Ragatha asked, gently smiling down at her. Pomni nodded, and relaxed in Ragatha’s arms as Jax removed the feathers, pulling the softest, most honey-sweet giggles out of Pomni’s mouth.

“Y-Yeaheheh. It tickles…” Pomni murmured, giggling up a storm. Ragatha smiled.

“I know, Pom-Pom. I know.”

“Got to admit, kid. This is kinda adorable.” Jax continued. “Alright. Flip her over for me, Ragdoll.”

“Not my name, but whatever.” Ragatha muttered, flipping Pomni so the jester now laid on her stomach. The movement made the feathers on Pomni’s back move. Pomni was pretty ticklish on her back, so the jester’s laughter spiked. “AH! They’re ohohon my bahahahack! Ah, gehehet them ohohohout, Jahahax! Please!”

“Goin’ as fast as I can, kid. Just don’t move~” Jax challenged, even as he grabbed one of them, lodged at the top of Pomni’s spine. He gripped the feather and slid it slowly down her spine, enjoying Pomni’s reaction. The jester was absolutely shaking with laughter!

“JAHAHAHAX! STOHOHOP IHIHIHIT!” Pomni shrieked.

“Ha! Are you kidding, I’m not stopping for anything, kid! You’re so ticklish, it’s hilarious!” Jax fired back, but he still removed the feather. Once that one was out of the way, there was only a few left. But they’d formed a clump. A very ticklish clump, if Pomni’s choked back laughter was anything to go by.

“Ooh, Pomni. Hold on to Ragdoll, this clump is right on your ticklish little back. I’m gonna have to get them all at once. Ready~?” Jax teased, making a show of cracking his knuckles dramatically as he leaned over Pomni’s back, his fingers wiggling in preparation.

Ragatha held Pomni’s sides as Jax dived in, grabbing the ball of feathers and slowly sliding them down Pomni’s back in an effort to pull them out. Pomni pounded her fists on the ground, tears in her eyes from how much it tickled. She squealed and laughed like never before.

Eventually Jax pulled out the clump of feathers, finally giving Pomni some relief from those maddeningly soft tickles. She relaxed and sighed as Ragatha softly ran her hands over Pomni’s back, getting rid of the ghost tickles as she helped the giggly jester up.

“You sure are ticklish, Pomni.” Ragatha chuckled. Jax nodded.

“All that yelling, though. Think I’m deaf.” Jax joked. Pomni rolled her eyes.

Yes, life in the Digital Circus was strange, random, and confusing. But honestly, it felt good for Pomni to laugh and forget her problems for a little, even if that meant being at the mercy of a bunch of feathers in the aftermath of a ferocious pillow fight.

“We gotta do this again. What do you say, shortstack?” Jax asked, smirking. Pomni chuckled and made a non-committal noise as she walked back to her room. When she reached it, she opened her door and laid on her bed, staring back up at the ceiling with a soft smile on her face.

Maybe they could do this again, indeed.

The End! Hope you enjoyed!

#tadc tickles #lee!pomni #ler!jax #ler!ragatha #rosa writes fics #what a lovely prompt #tadc

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yesimwriting · 2 years ago

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Hi, I'm kind of picky of FF in general, smut especially, but your "Pulling away" is just beyond perfect. Do you maybe have time and the enthusiasm to write something like that again? Not sure what other characters you'd write for (out of your master list) but another Joel would be great anyway. Thank you for your work!

A/n ahh thank you!! the feedback i've gotten on "Pulling Away" has been unbelievable,, and i very rarely usually write smut without being prompted to lol, i feel like it's too obvious that i'm a virgin who has had very few sexual experiences, even less if you don't count the ones i didn't fully consent to,, but that's neither here nor there, i'm doing better now i promise :)

also ik my masterlist is super limited compared to who i actually write for lol,, updating it is my absolute enemy but i'm working on it 😭

also the build up in this fic is criminal!! that's my bad!

Summary: You, Ellie, and Joel have recently decided to permanently settle in Jackson. The promise of stability seems to lead to boundaries adjusting during a sleepless night after Joel appears in your bedroom.

smut warning, 18 plus !!

----

It's existed in him as undeniably and permanently as the lines etched into the slightly calloused skin of the back of his palm. Control is something that Joel Miller knows, something he clings to the same way he keeps a gun in his hand when he needs to.

Control is what keeps him from reacting when your arm moves too carelessly and your elbow manages to push against his ribs. The side that you know is more yellow-purple than the soft tan it should be. If you weren't lying next to him, you would have assumed that the shift of your arm had no affect on him. But you're pressed closer to him than you've ever been, so you can feel the shift despite his intentions. It's subtle. A pinch in his breathing and a brief wave of tension in his spine.

"Sorry," your blurt out is instinctual, and you're not sure if it might be making things worse. You've never been this close to him and it burns so much you can practically feel it melting the thin ice holding the two of you above water.

Burns in a good way. A way that you've only ever felt through brief flutters that have come up more and more recently. Lingering touches patching up injuries, reassuring squeezes of hands that are always brief and never mentioned, the press of Joel's knee against yours as you sat at that table in Jackson, overwhelmed by the presence of so many strangers.

And now this. You, Joel, and Ellie had been given a place to stay. You used to dream about your own bed. A safe roof over your head and a clean blanket keeping you warm. Finally getting it left you restless. Being away from Joel and Ellie felt unnatural even if they were in the same building as you. There are so many strangers here, and even though they have no reason to strike you down, it's still weird.

You couldn't help the obsessive thoughts. It felt oddly compulsive, the urge to wrap the two of them up in warm blankets and bubble wrap and just watch them be okay. It's weird, but what can you say, Ellie and Joel are your people.

And then Joel wandered in after some talk with his brother. It had surprised you, considering the way he had avoided you earlier, but you'd never complain about having him close.

You're still not sure how it happened. How Joel started asking you about how you were settling and telling you that Ellie was just fine. He had gone in to check up on her and then lingered until she fell asleep. The thought of that domestic moment made your heart swell and you found yourself relaxing.

Somehow Joel ended up taking some of your covers. There's a draft, it's winter. You forced yourself to not focus on that in any other context. Refused to give it any other meaning. And then he moved closer, eventually laid his head on your pillow. You almost convinced yourself it was just a way to be a little comfortable while keeping up conversation. But then the talk eventually faded and you had to move to let him fit and you ended up like this. Safe and fragile.

This stray from what's normal is okay tonight. Everything is still weird, you three like awkward, feral cats compared to the people of Jackson.

"You're fine," he breathes, voice rough with sleep.

His acceptance is easy but it does nothing to make you less aware of your position. You're more on top of him than you need to be and your mind is suddenly scrambling, trying to remember every injury you've ever seen him receive.

Untangling yourself from the gentle cocoon you've created is an ache in your chest, but the thought of hurting him is worse. You move your leg close to the edge of the bed and start the careful process of retracting your arm.

Joel shifts with a slight sigh, his own hand following your own. He snags your wrist, pulling you back into place. "You're fine." Joel repeats his earlier words, so half thought out and mumbled together you think they might even be sleep idled.

"Careful," you try, fighting against the blood rushing to your face. "I don't want to hurt you."

Joel's hand moves down your forearm with a slowness that almost feels deliberate. You have to press your lips together to keep from exhaling too sharply. He turns his head and even in the dark you can feel the focus of his gaze.

He swallows once, lips parting for a moment before he speaks, "Hurts more the other way." It's vulnerable and not, undercut by something that feels so factual you briefly have to think about whether or not that's physically possible. "It's good pressure."

Your eyebrows draw together at the realization that he's not entirely joking. The audacity. He's always referencing his age and the soreness that's going to have to catch him at one point or another but now there's not a single concern for his joints or potential hip damage. You've always had a feeling that at least a part of that rant has to be bullshit, or at least some kind of exaggeration.

You scoff but make no move to pull away as Joel settles. "I don't believe you." Normally you wouldn't state anything so transparently. Any flash of softness is glass and barely tangible. Trying to grasp it by speaking about in the open makes it vanish. Like waking too suddenly from an incomplete dream. But you don't feel at risk, something about the dark and the warmth and his hand on your forearm. "You're so full of shit--what happened to old man knees and arthritis and hip joint iss-"

"You're making up those last two."

There's silence for a brief moment and then laughter. A stupid burst of giggles that has you forgetting the little bit of normal left. Your forehead briefly falls down, your face pressing against his shoulder as you try to keep it down. He laughs with you after a second, a reluctant, almost annoyed display of amusement.

You're still recovering, breathing a little heavier than usual and coming back enough to realize that this level of closeness may be pushing it. You lift your head just as Joel's hand finds a place between your shoulders. First a fist and then his fingers patiently relaxing. You don't think you've ever been this still in your life.

"I can't keep track of all your old man ailments," it's a whisper that's more against his skin than not.

He lets out a breath, "You needed me to help you onto a horse today."

You halfheartedly glare even though you're too pressed into him for him to be able to see you. "I could do it by myself now." Likely a lie, considering it had only taken a second with Joel's help and the concept of casual horse riding still feels foreign. "I just hadn't ridden one before."

His hand shifts up your back, an unbelieving hum escaping him. Has Joel always been this warm? And somehow both so evidently sturdy but still comfortable? Safe? You don't know what possesses you, maybe it's the urge to not feel so divided from him in any way, but you turn head slightly to make it easier to speak: "You're not actually that old."

He pauses at that, fingertips freezing against the fabric of your pajama shirt. "Older than you."

You let out a sigh, feeling like there's a hint of something else tucked into his words that you're too tired to explore. "So?" He lets out another flat breath, a sound you don't quite understand but makes you want to compensate, "You can get old, though, when it's your time."

He shifts in a way that feels like a combination of stifling a laugh and a display of a touch of reluctant curiosity. "You givin' me permission?"

"Not like that," you shake your head against his arm, "I just--I don't know--I think it'd be good if you got to be old with arthritis and bad hip joints and whatever else happens. It'd mean you were still alive."

You don't realize what you're saying until the words slip out. The blankness of your statement is too honest and you blame the fact that you're actually starting to feel like you could benefit from the sleep you've been putting off. It's instinctual to turn into him in a vain attempt to get closer even though you're already hanging onto him in a way that feels ridiculous. Your fingers curl in to him a little more, clutching at the surprisingly soft fabric of his shirt.

It's a subtle change, but you're not surprised that Joel notices. You are, however, not expecting him to understand. The hand on your back draws up even further, pushing you against him more firmly. Maybe Joel did have a point. Good pressure.

"Don't go thinkin' about it."

For once, you want to listen to him without putting up a fight just to see that line between his forehead reappear. But you can't. It's not that easy. Even here, as safe as it's ever going to get, there's still a chance of loss. And even if the world was perfect and Joel could guarantee that there would never be a dangerous patrol or anything threatening him again, there are still other things that worry you. There's no reason for you all to stay together.

When your only response is to halfheartedly nod so that he can feel the motion, Joel lets out a partial sigh. The movement of his chest is more noticeable than the sound. His hand travels down the expanse of your back, something you only recognize because of the warmth his touch leaves in its wake. You're only half there until his fingers brush against a small expanse of exposed skin where your sleep shirt had ridden up. Nothing insanely suggestive, nothing that should be considered too intimate. It's likely an accident, too. It's too dark for it to be intentional.

Knowing this is not enough to keep your body from tensing. Joel's fingers move upwards with no warning, slipping between the only layer dividing you. The cotton of the T-shirt is trapping him and the heat of his touch as his hand settles on your hip.

"You here?" His question is low, like he's trying to compensate for the hint of worry leaching into his tone. "With me?" The second part of the question is an afterthought, said so quickly and earnestly it feels like an impulse.

You're melting, and you don't mind it all. In fact, you're starting to think you might prefer it. "For now, at least."

It's half joke, half something else. A punch that some cynical, over worrying part of your brain needs to throw. You hope he won't see past the shell of humor, but feel the uphill battle in his silence. In the eventual drag of his thumb across the curve of your hip. The gesture is a contradiction in itself--small and cautious yet so natural. What should feel foreign is so familiar it coats it all in a layer of intimacy that's difficult to just sit with.

An odd sense of almost panic that makes it impossible to think settles in you. Something in you feels like it's burning, a slow fire that's patiently spreading. You don't know if you want him closer or farther or something in between.

The mix of unknown emotions is enough to distract you from your derailing train of thought. Maybe that's the point. Some strategy on Joel's end to force a mental reset. If it is, it's working. You wouldn't say you're breathing any better or more calmly, you're just more aware of the way air enters your lungs and filters right back out. The world seems to be reduced to that. Just your breathing. And Joel.

The little of him you can make out in the dark and the feel of him everywhere without him feeling close enough. He's steady, secure in his firmness like he's some immovable force. Joel is also starting to feel like a natural heater, radiating just enough warmth to make everything comfortable.

What is wrong with you today? These thoughts might be more dangerous than the other ones. They're definitely close to being more overwhelming. All of this has to be in your head, the result of all the feelings you've been attempting quell all day culminating and a touch of something else. The thoughts about Joel that you've been fighting against since you first met him finally winning.

Every time you've forced yourself to stare at your hands after the edge of Joel's shirt rode up as he reached for something or moved a certain way. Every stray thought that rooted itself in your mind like an invasive species while you patched him up after a rough day. Every painfully overwhelming moment where you let yourself get distracted by his hands for reasons you could never justify. Those same hands are on you right now.

Okay--you need to get it together. Stop playing at something that's definitely all in your head. Your eyes drift up, searching for Joel's expression in an attempt to convince yourself to be normal. To remind yourself what's at risk if you don't get what you've been begging yourself not to let be actual romantic feelings in check.

He's already looking at you, eyes focused and jaw so tense you can tell from your position. Joel presses his lips together. The hand that's on you shifts upwards. Nothing drastic, but the heat of his pinky is now melting into the skin above your ribs.

You have to bite your tongue to keep from letting a shaky breath escape you. It's too much and nowhere near enough. It's another contradiction that throws you through a loop. You need him closer and the desire twists at you even further. There's a level of hesitant care in all levels of him. In his touch, in the way he's watching you. Like he just can't help it.

It's so overwhelming you have to do something. So you do the only thing you can think of. You reach out to him. Your hand finds his upper forearm.

The motion seems to shift things. Joel lets out a breath, but it's not the easygoing sound it was earlier. It's strained. "Y'should get some sleep."

You're not all that tired anymore, but his tone and your own confusion makes you want to listen. At least he hasn't done anything to imply that he's leaving.

A part of you wants to leave it at what it is. There's no reason to risk his presence by pushing. You don't know what that last moment was about, but Joel's earlier gruffness from today seems to be coming back. "You okay?" The question feels awkward hanging there on its own. "You've been moody."

The hand still under your shirt adjusts with him. "Moody?"

"Mhm." His fingers ghost up your spine, making it twice as hard to organize your thoughts. "More earlier than now, when..." God, you can barely remember with the way he's tracing patterns onto your skin. "When we were with that group?"

Joel's lips briefly pull into a frown. "I know that Jackson people are a little different than us, but trusting them all so soon--" He cuts himself off briefly. "Just don't think it's a good idea for you to accept it all so--"

He pauses as you shift against him as you move to sit up. Joel watches the separation with sharp caution. He doesn't ease until you settle again, your chin resting against his stomach. "Seriously?" It's a lighthearted enough disagreement. "I'm not overly trusting anything. I feel like a crazy person half the time because I feel like I should be staring down anyone that talks to Ellie or you for a second too long."

The confession eases Joel much more than it should. It's proof that he's been searching for...proof that he's needed. That you're still here. Still his and Ellie's above anything else.

But it's been an unsure couple of days. You're good with people, likable in a natural way. You know how to make people feel easy. It's not your fault that you're the natural communicator in the trio, and it's a good thing that at least one of you is inclined towards that sort of thing. It's just been harder than he thought, to watch people always talk to you, even if it's just a way of communicating something to all three of you. Especially when you smile or laugh as another way to ease them.

It's even worse when it happens to be other men. You don't see it, the way their eyes linger or their tendency to lean in just a little too close. Don't know the way your polite smiles and words draw them in. There isn't exactly a plethora of new women appearing daily, so your novelty is only an amplifier to all your good traits.

Tommy's been giving him shit about it. How long did you have to close the deal on that when you were her only option?

It was an almost brotherly form of teasing, but it still rubbed Joel the wrong way because of how true it is. He can't justify the bitter, protective vile that leaves his chest feeling too tight when he sees how well you fit. How easy it'd be for you to end up with one of the guys from here, closer to your age and a lifetime less of baggage.

Joel hates the breathlessness of it, hates that he has time to think about these kinds of things now. The resentment is too much, bubbles up and comes out in the form of something mean, "Doesn't always look that way."

It's not an overly done insult, and somehow that's worth. Joel's faint accusation is personal and it lands the way he knew it would. You sit up so quickly, Joel can't even try to stop you. "What the fuck does that mean?"

The bed is small, clearly meant for one. Sitting up didn't exactly accomplish what Joel has to assume was your goal--to create distance. You're still tangled together, only it's different now. You're practically sitting on his lap. His mind, which should be focusing on the fact that he's upset you, that he's pushing you in the exact direction he doesn't want you to go in, can only think of your sleep shorts.

Maria promised to get you some pajama pants as soon as some came in, but that hasn't happened yet. Winter makes clothing a little scarce, so you've been managing in a pair of elastic shorts. Thin, elastic shorts.

"Just that it looks like you've been getting comfortable. Trusting others, spending time with Ben."

Your lips pull into a firm pout. "I'm not going out of my way to trust shit. Yeah, I talk to a lot of people, but that's just because I rather that than have them talk to you or Ellie first. It--it feels safer that way."

There's such a genuineness in that, Joel almost feels bad, almost feels the need to back step. But your indignation at the implication that you're trying to leave is too alleviating. Until you try to crawl towards the edge of the bed. Away from him.

Joel props himself up on his elbow and reaches for you. His hand finding your forearm feels like giving something up. A silent, too raw plea for you not to go. He knows it isn't quite that in so many words, but you understand. You always do in your talent for feeling the way he bends for you when he can.

For a moment, that's it. Just his hand on your arm, still perched on the edge of the bed, still flighty. One move and you might be gone. It'd be so easy.

Joel's never really considered himself a pissing on his territory type of person or one to be found of dependents, but he'd be lying if he didn't say Jackson didn't worry him. He's not an idiot, he knows he's been rough to travel with and that he's taken time to get to here, but you've always stayed close. Some of that must have been influenced by survival.

Not that Joel wants you to stick around because you have no other choice. He'd never use that against you, it's just something that he wonders about from time to time. A fear that this might be how he finds out that's the only reason the two of you have been together for so long.

He's been thinking about loss more lately. After the decision he made, after what almost happened to Ellie. Losing Sarah left him stagnant for 20 years and some days that grief still flares up and makes breathing feel impossible. It's a wound that will never fully heal, and maybe that's for the best. Hurt means not forgetting, but Joel knows he doesn't have anymore of that left in him.

What if he did just fuck everything up? Not just for him, but for Ellie as well. He sees the way she looks at you, like you're everything. He's peered into your mornings together, the world that is your little routine and your inside jokes. If he messed all of that up because he only knows how to be an asshole when any type of feeling comes up...

Joel knows action better than he knows words. Caring is easier an action, and so is apology. His hand releases your forearm, trailing down your arm and settling on your exposed thigh. When you don't push him away or try to move, Joel feels like he can fully inhale again.

"You know my priorities, right?" Your voice sounds more hesitant than before. Nervous. "It's you and Ellie. It's been you and Ellie and nothing's going to change that. It doesn't matter if we're here for two more days or two more decades."

A pinch of guilt rises in his chest. Normally that level of promise would make him feel the need to cut all ties. Safer that way. But Joel doesn't want to hold you at arm's length, not right now. Carefully, his hand moves forward, closer to your inner thigh than knee.

He should say something. Admit to his own insecurity or apologize. "I know," is all that comes out, even though it doesn't really matter, you have every right to walk away. Your eyes still soften, though, like he managed to come close to saying what you needed to hear. "I shouldn't have said that."

His hand moves up even further and this time you have to react, your breath catching itself on your throat. The noise fucking gets to him. Gets to him in a way nothing has in a minute.

"You're kind of an asshole, sometimes," it's breathed out in a way that feels like you're accepting his apology, "And it's only going to get worse as you settle into your old age."

There it is. The joke was forced through the uneven timbre of your breathing, but it's there. All you, all forgiveness in the way the corner of your mouth turns upwards.

Joel's thumb drags across the soft skin of your inner thigh, "So now I'm already there?"

You blink, unsure on how to react to anything with his hand tenderly working the skin of your inner thigh. Everything in you is only capable of focusing on the feeling, of chasing it. "Getting there." Joel's thumb and pointer finger briefly pinch at your skin in a way that has to be intentional, right? His touch is approaching the end of your shorts.

The closer he gets, the worse the distance feels. Your face feels like it's burning at the thought. This is Joel, not some random guy that things could be casual with. Or maybe he could be casual, but you--god, you're getting ahead of yourself. This isn't--it--

"Too old?" Joel stretches forward, sitting up a little more. "You lookin' for younger like Ben?"

There's something odd in his tone. A flat attempt at humor that misses because it's too straightforward. Ben. Again. This is the second time his name's come up tonight. Why? And that's not even the strangest part. His assumption is what sticks out the most.

"I'm not..." Fuck, his hands are killing you. "I'm not looking. Not actively and if I..." Okay, it's officially too much, he's turning you into a transparent puddle. His hand pauses and pulls back down, settling on your knee. Firmly. Unbudging in a silent demand to continue.

He traces circles onto your knee with his thumb. "You can say it," he encourages in a way that feels like he's patronizing you.

The words feel like too much. Some lines might have been crossed today, but nothing life changing. You two could still dismiss the whole thing, crawl beneath thin sheets, fall asleep, and wake up the next morning like nothing ever happened. But his hands on your thigh and the needy ache you're not sure you fully understand it left you with. And what it felt like to have him closer.

Joel's sitting up fully now, waiting. "If I was looking, it wouldn't be at Ben, it'd be..." His hand calmly trails back to its previous spot on your leg with each of your words. Fuck, you're struggling to think again. "At you."

At that, his fingers push upwards, touching directly between your legs. "Really?" He's quick to create a steady rhythm, pulsing his pointer and middle finger at a speed that makes it impossible to breath. Your eyes screw shut so tightly you see stars. "You're so wet, can feel it through those shorts of yours."

The way Joel's voice catches on itself makes a weak sound slip out. You'd be embarrassed by it if he gave you the chance to be, but before you can even think twice about it, Joel's free hand finds the back of his head. His fingers tangle into your hair and he pulls you forward so harshly you try to gasp. The sound doesn't make it out, Joel's mouth is on yours before it has a chance.

He holds you against him as he takes his time pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth and letting his tongue glide over the bites. Your mouth opens for him instinctually, asking for more.

Joel's taking his time and moving at a speed that has him everywhere all at once as his fingers continue to work you through the fabric that divides you. He releases you with no warning, the hand at the back of your head finding a new place right beneath your chin. His fingers pause, forcing out an instinctual whine.

He's panting near your ear in a way that makes you miss his touch even more. "So this is all for me, sweetheart?" His eyes flit from your face back down to your lips.

Even though the question is dripping with roughness, there still manages to be a hint of something else there. Something genuine. It doesn't matter, though, because all you have the willpower to do is nod. Joel turns his head, pressing a kiss to your temple that's so close to tender it leaves you spinning. He trails the barely there kisses down to your ear before whispering, "Then prove it."

The word's send a jolt through you. "Prove it?"

Joel tugs you closer, you listen clambering back to where you were before trying to leave. Joel rests his back against the wall and makes a point of extending one leg. You don't fully get it until he's helping you ease onto his thigh. The material of his sweats is nowhere near enough.

"Joel--"

"Sh," he hums, soothingly as he runs a hand up and down your back, "It's okay, sweetheart." The hand that's still on your hip squeezes firmly. "I've got you, y'know that." He helps pull you forward on his thigh and the pressure after so long without nothing hits you harder than you thought it would. "There you go," you push down harder, faster, "Just like that."

The longer you go, the more Joel encourages you, whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement as the knot in your stomach continues to grow until your body feels it. You're seizing up, body ready to throw itself off of a ledge. Your thigh squeezes around his leg, which must be how Joel knows you're close, because before you can find release, his hand is leaving your back and moving onto your arm. In one, fluid motion that should be impossible, he flips you two.

Your back is on the mattress and Joel's above you, pinning you in place with his body. You can feel him, all of him, hard and struggling between the layers that divide you.

Your lips part, but you don't know what to say. You're still reeling from your stolen orgasm, and you're not sure if you want to curse him out for it or simply ask why and how. Bad back your ass the way he just turned the two of you over with no real effort.

Before a single sound can come out of you, Joel folds the edge of the T-shirt you sleep in, exposing your stomach. A fluttery kiss to newly exposed skin. Again and again until he has to push up even more of your shirt to continue. "This," his voice comes out lower, harder as he tugs at the fabric, "Off."

You sit up just enough to help him tug the shirt off as quickly as possible. The desperation makes it harder than it ever should be to take off a shirt, but the offensive piece of fabric eventually finds its way to the floor.

The bareness you feel is startling, even in this level of darkness. Joel doesn't give you a chance to let your mind wander or insecurity take root. His mouth is exploring the newly exposed skin immediately. It's a rabid mix of love bites and placating the irritated marks with soft passes of his tongue and genuine, devoted kisses.

It's then that you realize there's a reason he's taking his time. He's definitely hard, you can feel him pressing against your thigh, but that doesn't matter to him. He's taking his time because he can. Because he's enjoying it, getting off on having you writhing and desperate under him.

"Joel," your voice is so small it feels like it belongs to someone else.

He pauses, lifting his head just enough that the scruff of his facial hair scratches comfortingly against your skin. A reminder that he's still him. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

You carefully lift a hand, making sure your movements are easy to follow in the dark. Joel lets your fingers settle in his hair. "Need more-need you."

"I know, sweetheart." His voice is low and soft, impossible to not trust. "You can wait a little longer." His teeth drag against your skin again. "Can't you, baby?"

Fuck, he could ask you anything like that and you'd have to say yes. "Mm."

He takes it as the answer it's supposed to be. Joel goes back to it until his fingers finally snag around the elastic band of your shorts. In one swift motion, he tugs it and your underwear away, leaving you fully exposed. He gives no warning before moving his mouth to your thighs, slowly moving up until the only thing left is your center.

With no warning, Joel licks through your folds. You practically cry out. "I know, sweetheart," he mumbles, barely looking up, "You can take it."

After that, he picks up the pace. Just as you think you're going to get used to the overwhelming pleasure, Joel moves his hand down your waist to use his thumb against your clit. Fuck. You're panting, whining, begging.

Joel groans. "You're close, I can feel you." His fingers replace his mouth, "You gonna come?" Another whine, like your body has forgotten how to make any other sound. "Yeah?" He's picking up the pace, pushing his fingers into you in a way that hits you somewhere deep. "Come on my fingers, sweetheart, I've got you."

His pace reaches its peak and his thumb works at your clit until you're finally pushed over the edge. Joel reaches you before you can scream, muffling the sound of your orgasm by pressing his lips to yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as he works you through your high. Joel knows when to stop, when the pleasure comes close to bordering on painful, he moves his hand back up your waist and focuses on just kissing you.

After a few minutes, you regain control of your thoughts. The urge to pull him closer takes over once again. Without thinking, you're tugging at the hem of his shirt. You almost think twice about it, but decide that it's only fair. He's touched so much of you and seen even more. All while fully clothed.

You're not as good or tactful about it as he is, likely due to the gap in your experience, but Joel picks up on what you want. He pulls away cautiously, eyebrows furrowing together like he's debating before finally giving in.

He discards his shirt just as carelessly as he got rid of his own. Joel tries to reconnect the two of you together again before you can take full note of him. It's a tactic you find the strength to beat, turning your head just enough to indicate that you're pausing.

Joel allows that, stills against with no protest. The silent promise that it's your pace is comforting. You let your eyes rake over his chest in what you hope is subtle, but really doubt actually comes off that way. You can feel him tense under your gaze. You stretch out a hand carefully, touching him because you can. Your attention focuses on the details that you can make out despite the limited light. A few marks of varying sizes are visible across his skin.

Scars. You wonder how many of them there are and the stories behind each. What it'd feel like to touch and learn each of them until they're as familiar as the lines of your palms. Your hand drifts down, faintly touching a particularly long mark.

Joel's hand moves, catching your wrist before you can make it any further. You frown up at him. "I want--"

"I--" He cuts himself off, unsure on how to explain it. You deserve to know what a war it will be to get him to open up, but he doesn't want that to change things. "Not yet, okay?" He squeezes your hand in his. "I'm not an easy person to care about, to get close to, but I--I can try to--"

"I disagree." He frowns at being cut off, but lets you continue. "And you don't have to worry about forcing anything right now, whatever you have to give, that's what I want."

That's all it takes. Joel crashes his mouth to yours, holding you there for much longer than before. He shifts away just enough to be able to pull down his pants. He strokes himself briefly before lining himself up with your entrance.

Joel enters you with no warning, easing himself in until your hips are pressed together. You're a mess despite his soothing words. He pulls back and pushes back, again and again until all you're seeing is white, blinding pleasure. "Fuck!"

"You're squeezin' me so good, sweetheart," his groans are hot and heavy against the shell of your ear. "Oh, sweetheart," he's losing his tact, his movements becoming more and more desperate. "You gonna come with me?"

You nod, eyes screwing shut as Joel picks up the pace until you're a mess again. He clamps a hand over your mouth as your second orgasm hits you fast and hard. It takes all of Joel's strength to pull out before finishing.

He lets himself relax against you after, a mess of sweaty limbs as you both recover. After a minute, Joel sits up. "You leaving?"

Joel brushes back your hair out of your face gently. "No, sweetheart, just need to get something to clean you up, okay?" You're about to protest again, but Joel beats you to it, "You don't want to sleep like this." When your only reaction is to pout up to him and cling to his arm, Joel leans down and finds a shirt to offer you. "Ellie's an early riser that never learned how to knock. You want to deal with this in the morning while pretending you're not?"

That's a point that sticks. You could probably explain Joel being in here early in the morning or he could climb out of your bed at first sunlight to keep this from being weird for Ellie...but your current state? Yeah, that's undeniable. "Come back?"

Joel squeezes your hand, taking a moment to watch your small expression fondly. "Promise."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #the last of us fanfic #the last of us x reader #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller fic #joel miller smut

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bbu-fan-blog · 1 year ago

Note

Is there any kind of facts that you found about Aristotle?

I have some, yes!

Aristotle is Billie's mentor: decided to take up this task amazed on how much she is like her father, and out of the desire to relieve the glory days.

Aristotle goes by he/him and they/them, and is gay.

He and Arthur, for all intents and purposes, were married, just not in the traditional sense.

Aristotle's gem (yes, the purple brooch on his cape is one of the gems) is a magic booster.

This makes Aristotle REALLY powerful; but they're still an axolotl, which means that, despite their magic power, he gets easily hurt.

He's made a name for himself at Dutch's hotel, having tried so many ways to get the wolf's gem. That's why Dutch has wanted posters of the axolotl everywhere, making them enemies. Ari doesn't know which gem Dutch has.

Ironically, Ash ships them as an "enemies to lovers" kind of thing.

Katie and Ash want to include book extracts that Billie can collect during the game, and one of them is a book wrote by Aristotle and Arthur, titled "The ABCs of Magic Casting". This suggests the two of them wrote books about magic together.

And as you can see, they shared a last name together.

Aristotle likes eating worms.

The symbol on Ari's forehead is meant to be an infinity symbol. Specifically, it's meant to represent the iridophores that axolotls have on their skins, that create a sparkly effect when exposed to the light.

In the fandom he's officially known as "Rad Magic Dad"!

In the first concepts, Aristotle was supposed to be calmer and more reserved; the devs made him more akin to goofy yet fun dad since he came off as too boring. Also, apparently he used to be a crow before Ash officially made them an axolotl.

He also used to constantly float in a bubble.

On Mario Kart he'd choose Luigi because they'd feel sorry for him.

His favorite Halloween treat is chocolate covered crickets.

Aristotle is autistic, and he stims by swinging his hips from side to side while waddling the finger, and tends to walk by keeping his hands inwards.

When overwhelmed, he tucks at his gills as if they were hair.

Apparently one of the characters who inspired Aristotle was none other than Pikachu!

He's also inspired by game characters like E.Gadd from "Luigi's Mansion" and Toriel from "Undertale".

He's very talented in magic, and can make magic spheres he'll juggle with.

Apparently he's never met Barnaby.

He loves food and cooking; apparently the devs had in mind to have a cooking minigame with him, but I don't know if that's still going to happen.

Despite being powerful at magic, Katie believes he'd have slow reflexes.

He'd love ice skating!

He's also definitely ticklish!

Will happily recieve hugs, very soft and squishy!

Despite his calm and friendly nature, he's got flaws too: as in, he can be petty, overly confident and sometimes rash. He's been compared to Pearl from Steven Universe, and Ash thinks it's a pretty accurate comparison.

His name is a reference to Ace Attorney!

His go to instrument would be a concertina.

Would be friends with Glamrock Freddy, according to Ash!

He can stand on an orb made of magic, just like Raz from Psychonauts with his levitation orb.

If he owned Pokémon, he'd mostly have a Fairy Type team.

He'd never swear; he's the kind that would go "LANGUAGE!" if he'd hear someone say a bad word.

His way of speech has some Weird Al elements to it.

This is what I have, for now! 💜

#Answered Ask #Billie Bust Up #BBU Aristotle #Aristotle

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mono-dot-jpeg · 7 months ago

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[7:09am]

a/n; this fic is probably scuffed asf bc im so tired. based off of the hwei bio on the official league website. i found out that his eyes canonically change colors based on his mood and i havent been the same. + silly hc that hwei sees in the colors his eyes show. HWEI ENJOYERS WAKE UP !!

[gn! reader] [ooc hwei? maybe] [written with the full intent to kiss this wet cat man] [written halfassed bc i lost inspo towards the end.]

hwei was a very pretty man. he had that cute sad cat energy. also who couldn't resist an artist? you couldn't help but adore him. he was just so lovely in your eyes.

in his eyes, you were pink. a soft gentle pink. because he saw you in a gentle light. you made his heart race. his vision was tinted this soft color compared to how he normally sees. usually his eyes were harsh with his mood, a bleeding red when he was frustrated, a deep sea blue when he was scared or heartbroken, a dark void purple when he felt like he's lost his way. everything was always heavy on his eyes and yet you were the most gentle color he's seen in a while.

sometimes you weren't a soft pink but instead a pastel of your favorite color.

the most intense color he's seen you be through his eyes was an overwhelming yellow orange because you were just so bright. that was when he first realized he loved you so much. you brought another color in his life. you brought many colors.

he swore that one time he saw you in all the colors. he's kept that moment in his mind, even immortalizing it in an art piece because he was that fixated on that moment. in his eyes, you were an art piece that he deserved to create and cherish on his own.

his eyes turn these soft and dreamy colors every time he looks at you. he absolutely melts with adoration when he sees a different color in you. his mind just seemed to associate you with every color, good and bad.

you were always the brightest color he saw.

#league of legends x reader #lol x reader #lukai hwei #hwei x reader #hwei league of legends #lukai hwei x reader #lol hwei x reader

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mrfeenysmustache · 2 months ago

Text

The Moon Turns the Tide

Chapter 7

For @crescent-dreams SessKag Fest day 7 prompt: garden

Summary: After a stroke of bad fortune, Kagome’s life is uprooted. She is moved into an unfamiliar community where she expects life will be very different- and much more miserable- than she’d hoped. But luck, as she’s learned, can turn on a dime.

Also read on: AO3

———————————————————————

The next days were a whirlwind.

Lady Akamine was a force on a normal day, but party planning Akamine was… terrifying.

Every single day had time set aside to practice and learn the dances they would do- tho Kagome was happy to note that they weren’t remotely as complicated and stiff as city dances- and Lady Akamine insisted on dragging her around to help pick out table settings, floral arrangements, table linens, candles, and then there’s was the dress fittings.

She hadn’t expected a ball, so she hadn’t brought anything more formal than dinner dresses, which Lady Akamine would absolutely not allow her to wear to a ball. And despite protests, her mother assured her they could come up with enough money for one new, simple dress, which ended up being for naught, as Lady Akamine insisted on paying anyway.

And doing all the dressing and choosing.

And primping.

And making suggestive comments about a certain Inu.

“We really are only friends, Lady Akamine. Mr. Taisho’s company has been very pleasant. But he’s not made any proposals.”

“Many a proposal started with long walks in gardens, lovey.”

“But not every walk in a garden is the start of a proposal.”

“Touché. Not this color, bring something deeper. And where are your luxury fabrics, these are barely suitable for a garden picnic!”

“Yes madam.”

Kagome sighed as the bolts of fabric she’d been looking at were whisked away and another selection put in their places.

“Now that’s more like it. Oh, this one, I think.”

Lady Akamine held up a corner of a lush, deep purple velvet against her cheek.

“Look how it makes your eyes just glow.”

It did look nice with the bright blue color of her eyes, she would give her that, but Kagome thought the color would compliment something else entirely.

Something much more like a moon on the brow of a beautiful male.

She chewed her lip as anxiety began creeping up her spine.

It was one thing for lady Akamine to make her comments, but such an overt sign on her own body….

Well, their friendship was nice while it lasted.

———————-

The garden was just about her only respite.

Lady Akamine rarely went too deeply into the garden, so when she really needed to escape, Kagome dashed in to find a hidden corner somewhere to breathe for a moment.

Today, she needed to process the news her mother had given her just that morning, that they would be leaving to go back to the city the morning after the ball.

It had been too much time away from the husband hunt, apparently.

Despite how overwhelmed she’d been with ball planning, she already missed the mountains, the people, how similar life was here to her home. The cool, crisp air, countless trickling streams, dense forests… they hadn’t left yet and already Kagome could feel the longing in her bones to stay forever, to never leave, to let the mountains breathe back in the life and vitality that the city sucked away.

But growing up was often harder than you imagined it would be, and she would not make things harder on her mother than they already were.

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Higurashi.”

“Mr. Taisho, I… it’s alright. I’m not reading or anything, just breathing.”

“I did not know you would be here. The flowers dull my sense of smell and, truthfully, I was quite distracted. I had no intention of ambushing you without your chaperone.”

“Oh please, who cares. I’m too stressed from all this prep and planning to even worry about something like that. And I just needed a few minutes alone, that’s all. Is everything alright with you?”

“Hn. My mind is simply plagued by many thoughts. My father wrote that he will be attending the ball. He is… a boisterous presence, to say the least.”

She giggled, patting the empty seat on the bench next to her.

He sat, though kept some proper space between them.

“I’ve also been told my brother will not attend, as he has recently become engaged. Which means, my father will be on my case for being his heir, and remaining a bachelor.”

“Not interested in married life then, Mr. Taisho?”

“It is not that. Yokai live a long time, Miss Higurashi, and whoever I choose to spend that life with… I would like to know we at least get a long.”

His eyes sharpened in intensity, and her heart fluttered in her chest.

She looked away, down at where her hands were folded in her lap, and tried to shrug away her feelings.

“Yes, it seems… daunting to pick a spouse. I’ve watched many people court, and then quickly enter betrothals and marriages after barely knowing each other. It seems so… frightening, to tie oneself to a stranger.”

“Or lonely.”

“Yes, that too. Lonely and frightening.”

“Miss Higurashi!” She heard in the distance, the sound of her chaperone finally catching up.

“Oh I must go, but thank you for talking with me, Mr. Taisho. I admit our conversations always make my mood feel considerably lighter.”

As she tried to stand he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. She nodded in thanks, but as she tried to pull away, she held fast.

“Call me Sesshomaru. At least when we are alone.”

She felt her cheeks flame, eyes going wide as her jaw fell open in delighted shock.

This was a level of intimacy she had never expected from him, this being who’d been so lofty and untouchable to everyone else.

Once again he’d made her feel special, like she’d been chosen over all others- even just for friendship.

Overcome, she smiled softly and squeezed his hand.

“Then please, call me Kagome.”

“Miss Higurashi, this is most unusual! Where are you?!”

“I’ll see you at dinner, Kagome.”

“Goodbye… Sesshomaru.”

—————

“My Lady, I thought it appropriate to inform you that, once the ball has concluded, we’ll be taking our leave.”

“Leaving?! You’re leaving?! There’s no need to leave!”

“But we’ve already intruded on your hospitality for long enough, and we do have business to attend to in the city. Unless…”

“Unless?”

Kagome braced herself. Looking down at her slice of roasted beef, she tried not to pinch her eyes shut too tightly as she readied herself for what she knew her mother would say.

“I don’t… wish to be crass or improper but… how many bachelors do you believe will be in attendance?”

“Ah, business. The business of marriage. Well, I’d say there will be… an impressive selection.”

“Really?” Her mother replied, and Kagome had to admit, that was probably the most forward and assertive she’d ever been. “Well, perhaps the gods will look down on us in favor, and we will be permitted to stay.”

“You’d be permitted to stay either way,” Lady Akamine mumbled under her breath, waving away a servant offering her more salad.

Kagome risked a sneaky glance over at Sesshomaru, and her heart stopped to find his eyes already on her.

#sesskag #sesskag fanfiction #sesskag fanfic #sesskag fic #sesshomaru/kagome #Sesskag fest

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lovelikedestiny · 2 years ago

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For @socialanxietyrabbit<3 I hope some blind!Nicky can cheer you up a little.

Tip-tap. Tip-tap-tip-tap. Tiptaptiptap.

The rain creates an unique symphony of sound, each droplet of water forming a different tune as they’re pouring their life-spending beauty over the world. Jewels of the sky. Crystal and glass, so fragile and yet unbreakable.

Nicky tilts his head a bit more to the side, fully immersing himself in the masterful piece nature is only playing for him. A private concert meant to be cherished. Meant to remind mankind of the humble gifts their environment offers them every day. Meant to make them aware what they have been blessed with and what they tend to forget in the fast paced daily routine. When they cannot even take a tiny fragment of time to themselves to simply breathe and exist.

That’s precisely what Nicky is doing at this very moment. He is.

Letting his mind wander without aim or intention, relishing in the various sounds, smells and other sensations he can perceive during this magnificent cloudburst.

The air tastes vivid and promising with a hint of lightning’s tingling electricity, the rich earthiness of the forest surrounding their current residence, and the sweet humidity of the rain Nicky is listening to.

He can smell the trees more clearly through the extreme moisture, distinguish the whiff of delicate moss and comforting resin. It’s the promising tale of summer, already speaking of days filled with kind sunshine and mild evenings under a sky Joe likes to describe to him as a kiss between night and day, moon and sun, before he kisses Nicky, because “you’re my moon in darkness, habibi, how can I kiss you not?”.

Nile simply describes the sky as purple.

The raindrops sound differently when they splash on leaves, a staggered rhythm created as they get unexpectedly caught by branches in various heights on their way down. On the rooftop of their safehouse it resonates constantly, almost like a monotonous lullaby, and on the meadow it is nearly quiet like the rain wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping flowers, thriving in its fall.

Nicky is so engrossed in harking to what mother nature is telling him that he misses Joe’s soft, unhasty footsteps approaching behind him, and only registers his presence by his scent having accompanied him for centuries, the whiff of freshly brewed coffee, and a gentle touch on his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch, though.

“Thank you,” he says as Joe places a warm mug in his outstretched hand, letting his fingers linger longer on Nicky’s knuckles, caressing the sensitive, thin skin.

“Not for that.” Joe’s voice is drenched in the honey of love and Nicky wants to tell him that he will thank him every day as long as they live for his mere presence and each smile Joe gifts Nicky with which he may not be able to see but can feel whenever he maps his beloved’s face with his hands.

Nicky only smiles, because Joe knows his trail of thought, savoring the cinnamony steam of his hot beverage.

It is strange how the pure simplicity like Joe being aware of the way Nicky prefers to drink his coffee - black with just a touch of cinnamon - can have so much power to make his heart stutter in his chest.

The real source for the comfort seeping into his bones and erasing the last remains of the past mission however, is the missing taste of copper in the air.

Joe has freshly showered and the clean, soapy scent of an unharmed body without the sticky, overwhelming thickness of blood and death lets Nicky relax with a silent exhale of relief.

On their job this morning, in the crisp, breathtaking cold of dawn, Joe had been shot three times while shielding the abducted children with his body to protect them.

A heart too big for this world.

Even though it hasn’t been the first time one of them has died and it certainly won’t be the last, Nicky had still waited in agony next to Joe, anxiously spending the dragging on seconds it took his husband to heal listening for a sharp inhale or feeling for the onset of his heartbeat under shaking hands, pressed to Joe’s chest.

The physical reminder of this nightmare may be swept away, down the drain, but Joe’s missing breathing and warmth have persistently taken root in Nicky’s own chest. A parasite in its own form.

Joe and he sit and drink in silence for a few minutes, content with each other’s company, shoulders touching, thighs plastered together. Nicky is focused intensively on the sounds Joe creates, not paying attention to the rainstorm anymore - cooling blows in his mug, sipping the hot fluid, black like Nicky’s own, but with precisely three tablespoons of sugar. Focused on any signs of discomfort, a tense shift of Joe’s posture, a suppressed hiss of pain, an uneven breath.

He perceives none of that but one reassurance is left for the sake of Nicky’s soul.

The hand he holds out to the love of his life moves hesitantly, almost timidly, and his voice is nothing more than a whisper. “May I?”

Joe hums fondly before grabbing Nicky’s wrist, slim artist fingers curling protectively around delicate bones, to guide his palm to the place where Joe’s heart is reliably and strongly beating in his ribcage.

“You never have to ask, Nicolo.”

Joe places his own hand on Nicky’s, sensing the familiar thump of the other half of his soul, the rhythm engraved in his very bones.

And finally, finally, the last trace of unease diminishes, melting away under the sheer devotion Joe radiates like a cozy campfire with his warmth.

Nicky’s own personal sun.

“I’m okay,” Joe promises him and crosses their fingers until their palms are slotted together like a perfect matching puzzle.

“I’m glad you are,” Nicky replies, allowing the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth to come into bloom.

Joe kisses the top of his thumb, letting Nicky’s breath hitch with a faint touch just like this, and continues to press his lips to each of his fingertips. “I was worried about you.”

Incredulously Nicky moves his head to the side, a twitch of confusion, and instinctively tightens his grip on Joe’s hand. “About me? You got shot,” he reminds him softly, oh so softly as to not rouse the begone horrors of today. “You died, Yusuf.”

“But I know how it feels for you and I am sorry it happened this morning, hayati.”

The uncertainty. The suffocating vines of nothingness. The overwhelming thorns of fear. The helplessness of listening, praying, for a noise of life. The disorientation.

Most of the time, Nicky doesn’t miss his sight. How could he miss something he never had? But whenever the other half of his soul dies, he feels so utterly lost it frightens him, shaking him to his core. How dependent he is on sound.

Spending seconds without an indication of Joe coming back to life, returning to a world they both share, is excruciating. Torture. Making his handicap more obvious to him which ignites a spark of self-hatred in him that comes with the dangerous feeling of being useless.

Nicky stays silent a little too long, prompting Joe to scoot closer to him, bridging the last minimum of free space between them, so that their whole sides are pressed together. Sharing warmth and comfort like life-spending oxygen.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, more gentle this time. The real apology behind it brushes gossamer over Nicky’s cheekbone.

I’m sorry for leaving you.

Nicky shakes his head no, an automatism because he never has to apologize for something he has no power over.

A heart too full of love.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he points out, setting his mug carefully down on one step of the stairs they’re perched on to use his free hand to touch Joe’s face, cupping his beautiful jaw like something infinitely precious.

Joe smiles, lips curling into the beloved shape under Nicky’s thumb. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Yes. Because I hadn’t got your back. Because I couldn’t protect you. Because I was useless.

“You led the children to safety.” Joe has guessed where his bad thoughts have dragged him. Of course he has. “You did great, Nicolo.”

I didn’t do enough.

He doesn’t voice it, though, Joe can read the words clearly on his face anyway and makes an unhappy guttural sound.

“You saved them,” Nicky points out.

Joe doesn’t respond to that but the stiffness in the atmosphere gives Nicky enough indication. As he withdraws his hand from Joe’s face, letting it fall limp in his lap, Jow draws a pattern onto the skin of the hand he is still holding. Each brush of his fingers conveys another emotion Joe is wordlessly communicating to him. Pride. Trust. Devotion. Support. Concern. Heartache and sadness for the troubled thoughts on Nicky’s mind.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did great, ya amar. We saved them. Together.” Needless to say, Joe knows of these moments of doubt and self-consciousness Nicky experiences from time to time about his missing sight. And as always he does what he can do best: show Nicky his love.

You’re not worthless, their first kiss tells him.

You’re worth something, the second says.

You're worth everything, the third and final kiss expresses.

Exhaling deeply, his nose buried in the safe crook of Joe’s neck, Nicky stays for a few minutes, allowing the supporting words of his partner to wash over him, plucking the seeds of self hatred out of his heart before they can sprout.

Joe holds him without disrupting the pleasant rush of the rain weaving a protecting cocoon around them. Hiding them in their personal little bubble. For now.

“How can I make it up to you?” Joe eventually wants to know tenderly, not for Nicky’s but his own sake, his own guilt for contributing to Nicky’s feelings although he certainly is not to blame.

Nicky moves his nose slowly across Joe’s mouth, following the curve of his cheek until it boops slightly against Joe’s, causing the latter to huff in amusement.

“Enjoy this concert with me,” he invites him with a lopsided smile.

Relaxed, Joe settles back, reaching for his mug again, but not breaking their skin-to-skin contact one. “It would be my pleasure, tesoro. What is it called, if I may ask?”

“The lullaby of the rain.”

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chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct · 3 months ago

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For the OC pairing ask, I have two options for you just for fun (romantic or platonic, you decide!):

Abigail Lannister and Victyr Dormaire

Lacie Warmen and Therese Targaryen

I had so much fun with Abigail and Victyr

💜

Therese and Lacie:

I think Lacie and Therese would be good friends. Lacie's au has no dance in it so we don't have to worry about that. Lacie is the kind of person that wants to be friends with everyone, or at least on good terms, to the point of spreading herself thin. But I mean Therese and her are around the same age and Lacie will soon be her-- aunt (?) so I feel like it's an obvious friend choice. I'll admit, Lacie probably gravitates towards Therese more than anyone else in the red keep except maybe Helaena.

💙

🖤

Victyr and Abigail:

Now, Victyr and Abigail kinda knew each other before the war and I think his general opinion of her was that she's got a good heart and plenty of good intentions she just puts all her faith in the wrong people...now after the war, well, we see the results of putting all your faith in the wrong people, I mean at this point she's a little fried, it's around this time that everything in her life is coming to a head...Obviously Abigail is going to try and get close to him now, there's more reason too. I think Victyr would immediately figure she wants something out of this new "relationship," especially after Joffrey decides he really really likes Margaery. This is the first time in literally ever that Joffrey has been the one turning his attention from Abigail instead of the other way around and she honestly doesn't know how to deal with it. In the actual cannon of He Who Wears the Crown, Abigail decides to turn her attention to Tommen, since they are betrothed and she figures it's a good choice but with Victyr being her latest "charity project" as Joffrey likes to put it, she practically (literally) digs her claws into Victyr. Not as in, she's controlling him like with Joffrey but more like she's desperate to fill that hole in her chest. It becomes this sort of very toxic situationship. Like if they even took a stroll through the gardens she'd be gripping his arm so tight and he'd be glad he lost the feeling in it because her nails are literally digging into his arm. On the outside, Abigail seems perfectly fine. She's still smiling, still dressing up, spending time with her other friends, but really she's not doing so well. The night before the purple wedding Victyr would probably come to speak with Abigail and confront her habit of people collecting, to which Abigail would claim she didn't know what he was talking about. He'd probably lay out everything in front of her, from how she treats him and Sansa compared to everyone else around her, despite calling them her "friends". How she reacted to Joffrey turning to Margaery. How she immediately latched onto him as if to prove a point. To say the least it's not a pleasant conversation and it would probably bring Abigail's growing self hatred to a head. Now after the purple wedding, she's absolutely spiraling. She knows her father didn't poison Joffrey, and while she's confined to her chambers by Tywin she begins to grow an overwhelming hatred for her number one suspect, Victyr Dormaire.

❤️

#other's ocs #oc: therese targaryen #oc: victyr dormaire #oc: lacie warmen #oc: abigail lannister #oc: abigail blackfyre #Lacie Warmen #abigail blackfyre #abigail lannister

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spark1edog · 4 months ago

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the first time i ever used the word trauma to describe what i’ve experienced was in a piece of art when i was 17.

i had begrudgingly gone to school that day with the intention of ditching immediately and going to the mall like usual but something pulled me to my art class. the art teacher there was one of the only ones i liked, he was consistently nice to and patient with me. he praised my art and encouraged me to do it even if my grades were slipping and i was completely out of control.

i walked in and ignored all of my friends and didn’t respond to his greeting, and took out a canvas and some acrylics and just Went. i let the piece take me where it wanted to, and ended up with this:

(id: a 13x9ish canvas painted with shades of blue in the background. frantic and reckless black, white and purple brushstrokes are slapped across in irregular patterns. there are red spatters like blood on the sides and the bottom of the canvas fades to a murky deep purple. the focal point of the painting is three lines of collaged text from magazines. from top to bottom, “Overwhelming yourself as treatment,” “razors for stress,” and “trauma ISNT art.” there is a smudgy, messy muted rainbow at the very bottom, partially obscuring the last line of text. the image is followed by three closeups of the text. end id.)

i was angry at myself for feeling the way i did. i was angry at myself for how i expressed it, how i dealt with it, talked about it, bottled it up, about even being traumatized at all. i was supposed to be better than that. if i made art about it, it wasn’t trauma and i was just looking for attention and validation. trauma was a word reserved for prisoners of war and trafficking victims in my mind.

my therapist at the time was unhelpful with this. she was a former teacher and school counselor, and she was strict as fuck. she gave me many a lecture about missing school, missing appointments, forgetting her homework, not having an identical experience to the self harm workbook she tried to use with me, etc. it was not a good time for me. she very much took a bootstrap approach to my mental health.

this was during the most traumatic time of my life too basically, the culmination of everything id been denying and shoving down for my whole life, constantly sleep deprived, feeling utterly helpless and exhausted, self harming to get the energy to do chores, ping ponging between starving and binging, just so fucking much going on. and i didn’t even want to call it trauma because i hadn’t been hit or threatened.

but this piece was a little bit of a turning point. it didn’t feel like it, but the dam had cracked. the word had been dropped. i hadn’t been smited by the universe. i swallowed my cringe and felt… a little bit better. the validation had come from within. i felt like something had been lifted from me, even if it was but a straw. it took years to start healing, but that was the first time i ever called it trauma.

#punktalk #punkart #actually traumatized #cptsd recovery #childhood trauma #self harm //#sh mention #tw self harm

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nightingaletrash · 1 year ago

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Now that I've watched the Bakura vs Bonz duel, I think I've figured out why the insistence on turning the Rare Hunters' death threats into shadow games feels so flimsy. (yes this is just an excuse for me to talk about the shadow games vs the death games shhhhhh)

First off is that it doesn't work with the lore: none of the Hunters have the power to turn a duel into a shadow game because its the Millenium Items that make shadow games possible. Without their power, it's just not possible, and adding a purple cloud doesn't change that. I really doubt that Marik goes around and 'blesses' buzz saws and bits of glass to give them access to the Shadow Realm in very specific ways.

Second, the death games are all about the illusion of power, whereas the shadow games are based on real power; if you put Marik and Arkana next to each other and ask an outside observer to pick who they think is more dangerous, they'd probably go with the guy who locked a kid in shackles and threatened to cut off his legs if he lost a card game, because that's a very extreme measure and it gives Arkana a lot of power over that kid. But Arkana's power starts and ends with his power over Yugi. It's contained to his stage, just as all the other Rare Hunters only possess power over the stages they construct. Yet their power is only as real as their abilities, which are very limited, and so they build in safeguards to protect themselves. Parachutes and hidden keys, means of escaping their own death traps in the event they lose because they know that their power is so limited. That's why they rely on theatrics and death threats. It's a projection of power, to make themselves look and feel more powerful, all while plotting a way out should their intimidation tactics fail to overwhelm their opponent.

And this is where the Bakura vs Bonz duel comes in. Whereas the Rare Hunters make their death threats very overt, Bakura's threats are very subtle despite his being so blunt. He doesn't state his intention to send them to the Shadow Realm... because he brings them there immediately. Its evident that when the duel begins that the environment has changed in a way that it doesn't in the death games. The colour palette has changed and the characters comment on the fog, and those visual cues are enough to clue in the audience to what has happened. Bakura has made this duel into a shadow game, and the world has changed to reflect that. But Bonz doesn't realise he's in a shadow game because he has no idea what that is; he thinks the only stakes are a place in the Finals. Only as the duel nears its end does Bakura reveal what the stakes really are and what they stand to lose. And those stakes go both ways. There is no built in loophole for him, no pre-planned way out if things go south. You win or lose in a shadow game, and while Bakura certainly has power here, there is an element of control that he's surrendered for the sake of terrorising and condemning some guys. Yet he doesn't fear it, doesn't fret about it, because he's got full control of the situation thanks to the power imbalance between him and his opponent.

And that's what 4kids really screwed up when they turned every threat of death and violence into 'being sent to the Shadow Realm' because its not meant to be some random threat that anyone could pull out of their hat and could happen to anyone. It's not something anyone can do just because they know about the Shadow Realm. It's about how even the most extreme of mundane threats still pale in comparison to the threat of something that can be barely understood.

tldr; while 4kids really watered down just how much of a threat the Shadow Realm is, the people who actually play shadow games are operating on a whole other level from the guys making death threats.

#nightingale rambles #yugioh #look. i know it might not have been intended by the og writers.#but look. the death threats feel extreme until you see bakura sending some guys to hell #then you realise that he's playing on a whole other level from marik's goons #and while it probably wasn't intended as a commentary on power this is what i've taken from it #did i ever expect that i'd be writing meta on yugioh? no. am i? fuck yes.#i've just started the yugi vs bakura episode so there'll probably be a bunch for me to add to this soon #because i know the finals are almost all shadow games thanks marik and bakura <3

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jane-crow · 1 year ago

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VORTEX TIME BABY

yes i am putting tws for this post because IT IS required in context of everything im about to dump onto you crows

(putting the tws here to just to be safe. TW: g0re,mention cann1bal1sm(trying to get someone to do that),kn1v3s sui implied and l0ss of a b0dy part)

with that out of the way lets get into the oc rant :D

so- just fair warning- i did change some things around in the cannon lore but its not a full COMPLETE change- but you'll see what i mean later on SO- oh and also caines a tiny bit of a dick- BUT unintentionally because i think he just doesnt realize what hes doing is wrong (at least in this aus context but maybe also within the cannon au)

in my au- vortex has been there the longest INSTEAD of kinger- but kinger has been there the second longest. vortex has been in the circus for 20 years (since they were 7 btw and yes this was intention of me) and caine wasnt perpared for humans he tended to leave vortex alone a lot

AND THUS before the group we all know and loved showed up a unlucky group of seven people showed up- think of the group as pomni but worse. the group wouldnt really listen to vortex when it came to the circus so they all tended to avoid vortex/stay in there rooms- which led to all seven abstracting- one by one and vortex having to watch it happen. so of course- caine wasnt around so vortex was stuck waiting for caine to appear while trying to survive abstractions- WHICH THEY DID HURRAY- but they didnt go without getting injuries (im not going into detail on said injuries- at least not by much-) which ties in with his design- SO

"vortex was almost all black..with their teeth being white,the tips of there hair having color- red,blue,green and purple,their eyes having color- one being blue the other being orange. and their tail- which the tip had some red on it followed by other colors. their body was covered in scars. their face,tail,back,arms and legs had scars."

"vortex DID have clothes..but- they were always hard to makes out. the clothes they were (forcably) given were a black tanktop,a flannel which had very few hints of color. the color being a few hints of red here and there. same with the shorts expect they had hints of green instead. they had boots were more of a black-ish grey-ish color"

moving on-

so- you may or may not have already assumed vortex isnt the biggest fan of caine BUT DONT WORRY I HAVE ONE MORE POINT TO PROVE AS TO WHY THEY DONT- so vortex was kind of a "test subject" for caine right? (not a literal one because- its a digital place-)soo- caine put the virus in vortex to see how much humans can take in the circus (mentally of course) which resulted in vortex having glitching episodes! and eventually- the glitch became sentiant just because of how attached it was to vortexs code at this point- and you'll never believe it buuutt- it wants vortex to eat the members of the circus- huuurraaay- moving on- because were sort of coming back to that.

how i imagine the circus is- its like a show but it has its own spin off game- and as for the show i imagine that like within the cannon universe people can like literally watch what these characters are doing so i like to imagine they all have acts- and the rooms they have are decorated by said act they do. unforunatly- vortex being the test subject he is- doesnt have an act so..what does his room look like?? well-

"vortexs room was pretty empty compared to the others rooms. they had a bed,a desk and a closet. that was about it for things that were in there. they had some random plushies that they had found around the circus while they were alone. they also had a projector with a remote to change colors. he tends to keep it blue and red along with the green dots which represent stars. the project itself was meant to represent the northern lights. there room was also dimly lit just because he tended to find the circus overwhelming. the colors were always to much for her whenever she decided to explore the circus."

one silly fact before i go back to the glitch- since vortex doesnt have an act he likes to watch all of the other members preform and hehehehe. soo- you know pomnis eyes in that one scene where she sees her door? think of that but for vortexs eyes- but not as wide yk? and i like to imagine that their tail is gently wagging and me and my freind made a joke that the camera thats recording the circus members acts just pans to vortex and vortex is just like "..oh heey-" and awkwardly leaves somewhere else lmao

OK BEFORE WE OFFICAL GO BACK TO THE GLITCH- the glitch does have a design

"the glitch is basically an all green looking entity. it has a few other colors here and there but it was mostly green otherwise."

anyway- so. since the glitch is- VERY relentless when it comes to vortex it just keeps telling them to- y'know eat people. but eventually one day vortex had enough of the glitch and- cut their arm off. BUTTT DONT FREAT- they get a prosthetic made by our favorite silly jester (midheard this again on a call with a friend when they actually said their oc lmao)

oh one last thing. you wanna get rid of that glitch? well good luck- you cant do it without whipping vortexs memories- so basically a hard reset.

OH AND- vortex (since they were alone for so long) has this like tent where they put a bunch of stuff they collected while being in the circus- and yes there is a lot of shit in that tent- trust me

WELL THATS ALL OF THE IMPORTANT STUFF- FACT LIST TIIIMMEEE (some of the facts i already typed out but shhh. also this is where the kn1f3 tw comes into play- its the VERY last fact. also the su1 implicantion. I ONLY CALL IT IMPLICATION SINCE YOU CANT DIE OFFICALLY IN THE CIRCUS FROM WHAT I UNDERSTAND. if you want to change it to attempt instead dont hesitate to ask ^^)

-vortex can bypass the swear filter only because he was the test subject for the digital circus so caine didnt put that into her code

-vortex has a fear of abstractions because a group of seven people came and all seven abstracted. he also had to see queenie abstract

-when people first see vortex when they hear about abstractions they think shes abstracting

-they have scars from abstraction attacks

-hes scared to get close to anybody in the circus (unless he already got close to them)

-they dont really trust caine

-hes explored the circus so many times out of boredom

-the fake exit triggered her abstraction trauma

-her tail wags when she gets any sort of affection (headpats,hugging,hand holding ect)

-autism

-showed up alone BUT a group of seven others came and abstracted

-11’5

-vortexs nickname is air because bobbin (a friends oc) and bubble make bnb so- with vortex having the nickname air its airbnb

-voidy. just- voidy.

-uhhh vortex once had a bad glitching episode- SO BAD that they stabbed himself- and they are very ashamed of it because his mind wasnt clear- and she wasnt in to much control anyway

#tw gore #tw cannibalism #tws #the amazing digital circus #ocs #tadc oc #tadc #tw knife #tw sui implied #tw mild body horror #oc rant

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narwhalandchill · 1 year ago

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FINALLY FINISHED 4.1 AQ!!!!! (General thoughts also Lot of childe thoughts + 4.1 spoilers obvi and 4.2 leaks warning, LONG)

ok OK OK that was actually insane holy fuck. i was mad initially when childe lacking voicelines in 4.1 leaked but like bro was Still a central character im cool! im cool! keep it up in 4.2!!!!

FIRSTLY. i was fucking right i KNEW the oratrice was ALWAYS onto childe being connected to the primordial sea through 'it' GOD the sheer fucking amount of "theories" i saw that were like oh its all just arlecchinos machinations nothing abyssal whale is an easter egg (?) childes poor mood is bc hes drugged with sinthe by arle (??????) etc etc etc. eat my fucking ass. i saw this shit coming YEARS ago i knew i fucking knew.

honestly its just like my dearest ajax to minmax his K/D ratio to the point that he becomes the murder weapon to a case that started when he was like 5 like what a legend. he is so talented. 🥰🥰🥰🥰

im still highkey on the copium camp that the leaked humanoid phase of the ptahur fight wouldnt literally be childe tho. unironically mostly bc i think its simply a crime against him to let foul legacys visual design AND ptahurs whale design serve cunt that hard only to do the ugliest most generic possible rectangle shaped dark armor guy for A Boss Fight. Like cmon. the purple cyclops look with the flowing galaxy cape and fluffy collar was The Shit. give us extra galaxy effect pastel purple water-y polar star motif-y foul legacy design for childes magical girl powerup not That. tho if childes only gonna look ugly before he asserts his claim over the whales power and then gets a cunty powerup then all is forgiven 🥰

AND WE SAW THE WHALE I WAS LITERALLY GIDDY WATCHING THE CUTSCENE. knew it was coming bc i spoiled myself on purpose by watching it on yt i Had to see it but. ITS SO GOOD. God. and then 4.2 we will fight them both??? & the boss title is "devourer of the stars"???? like its so fucking abysspilled and real i feel like a starving middle ages peasant being fed from the royal banquet table ive waited SO LONG. foul legacy is called devouring deep and 'it' is Litetally titled devourer. this isnt a fucking coincidenceee im in love . WILF i said what i said

anyway i do agree that in terms of lore implications i dont think its unrealistic at all for it and its will to overwhelm ajax temporarily like that thing is the devourer of stars which. Might i remind people literally means devouring fate in the world of genshin and constellations. a world ending entity. but also at the same time this might be me being insane and abysspilled (always looking for a reason for apologism yk) but like. theres no direct confirmation either way whether ptahurs intentions with childe are really malicious at all. he awakened it, theyre linked and its calling for him and sure thats bad for fontainians' projected life expectancy but we cant assume much else. i mean childe was in the deep sea he might be snezhnayan so immune to anti french bathwater but bro couldve been drowning maybe the whale helped out a pal. and the music in the cutscene was more wonder than terror too? fanon guys are just coping bc they dont want childe to get worse when thats just much sexier Trust (she says, overtaken by constant paranoia that somehow theyll pull a 180 and damsel-ify him with no actual narrative weight or satisfaction for his arc ahahaha)

(but like me when i havent read tusk of monoceros caeli item desc and understood that the all-devouring desire to crush everything in his path like the solipsism represented by the image of a whale cruising through the celestial heights is very explicitly stated to be a part of himself childe chooses to gleefully embrace do not fucking try me you illiterates. sorry i got emotional for a sec back to 4.1)

AND LIKE NO I DID NOT MISS THAT NEUVILLETTE DID NEVER IN FACT CLAIM PTAHURS SENTENCE UPON FONTAINE WAS UNJUSTIFIED. JUST THAT IT WAS TOO HARSH. so like listen listen listen. (pulls up my abyss is justified the gods are false the sky is fake so bringing ruin upon the world in the greatest sin against an artificial system is actually making the sinner the one delivering heavenly justice---- conspiracy whiteboard) ANYWAY point is childe tartaglia ajax should get to torch celestia and im going to kiss him on the mouth when he does. No one @ me. but actually neuvillette genuinely APOLOGIZED for overturning ptahurs authority to deliver its sentence. im gonna read into this so hard it might be reaching but who am i if not behaving down bad horrendously about the abyss and the prospect of a cosmic eldritch entity shattering celestias world order into pieces,?? this is my Brand

act III has so much hate but i thought it was fine SJSJSKSJFKFIDKFK it did what it set out to do and it certainly isnt as interesting as act IV but it did So much of the foundational work for the next act and managed to work well enough. it got a bit repetitive so like no it wasnt perfect at all but idk when u go in with the right mindset its perfectly competent. but i can see it feel horrible when u Really just wanna get to the action parts so like its fine if ppl dislike it jsjajsk not too pressed either way

anyway i find it so cute how many people are reacting to travelers dreams of childes pov as this like omg theyre in sync and not like. An explicit confirmation that visions are mass surveillance tools p much 💀💀💀💀 like its not even ON HIM and he can still be tracked how is this endearing im so lost JSFFJSJSJ

honestly beyond the obvious childe brainrot its hard to even go off about just any specific character bc EVERYONE got it so good. chlorinde dodged the sara allegations im SO fucking happy for her!!! even if it wasnt that much its already far off from that travesty!!! her and wrios dynamic is so fucking funny i adore them and wasnt expecting it at all.

wrio is fucking GREAT! i absolutely lived for every single line of dialogue he had like mans literally the funniest person in fontaine. silver powercreep. but not just that bc hes actually so fucking good and interesting and intriguing and i loved the overall role he played. the whole power play he did w lyney and that entire confrontation played so well with both his and lyneys character im just. this was a certified banger. the house of hearth sibs were all great and lyneys characterization had So much depth and nuance i really liked the way he wasnt dropping his and lynettes backstory in 4.0 just to trauma dump but that it was all actual setup for his minor/major breakdown during act IV and that payoff was so worth it!!! arle chiding him for his pride too. listen to your dad lyney.

speaking of Whom.

oh my god oh my god arle arle arle. this woman had me actually fucking blushing like. Her ENERGY. The Poise. the Threat. the Pressure. the veneer of perfectly conducted civil friendliness that feels more threatening than if she just put a knife to my neck (which. she could. id thank her)??? how shes genuinely LIVID at furina and about the prophecy and just kept pressing at her?????? no woman in this goddamn game has had an effect like this on me i feel so weak im such a fucking dyke oh my god. HER VOICE. HER FUCKING VOICE. EVERY SENTENCE OUT OF HER MOUTH I WAS EATING IT UP. that like. idk how to even call it that like dry breathy quality to her voice is just?????? i was transfixed i was obsessed i was hypnotized.

and ofc she didnt really gaf about childe much SJAJSKSJFKSKSKDKD but like unironically funniest fucking mental image from this AQ was the concept of if arlecchino ever somehow got arrested in another nation CHILDE would be her attorney like. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 HELP (logically ik he would do fine lmao hes smart and literally feeds his ego by being good at his job you guys are just so fucking rude comparing him to 6d chess zhongli in liyue AQ. thats zhongli being too galaxy brain not anyone else being dumb)

honestly i love love love this fucked up strict but seemingly truly genuine in her own fucked up way parental figure that she appears to be?? like this isnt redeeming her this is making her interesting as fuck and i do love that. the fact that shes generally very reasonable and collected but that you can just Feel the danger lurking underneath is literally So attractive i might keel over.

and like FINALLY a nation where its not all the fatuis fault!!! well it is all childes fault (so proud of him. thats my man!!) but you get what i mean GSJSKDK. arlecchino actually offering up her cooperation at the end just feels so refreshing and nice like ahhh. feels good feels organic.

so. neuvillette is the reincarnated hydro sovereign. whos surprised. (silence) yeah fucking thought so. honestly neuvi was both incredibly interesting and good but also his clueless moments of not picking up on jokes and banter are So autistic like if i hadnt already pulled him by the point i started doing act IV i wouldve the second he started sharing his autism diagnosis with us. so like im ecstatic to have him both on my main and NA alt actually.

ALSO. Confirmed that gnoses are based on stolen authority from the sovereigns. as a scalie enthusiast i Always had a hunch sth like this was up but having it confirmed is fucking excellent. and like it feels very much like furina/focalors (r they separate ppl or not? Huh?? is the gnosis in the oratrice?) r gonna allow neuvillette to tackle the bathwater problem by surrendering the authority over hydro back to its rightful heir n thats prolly gonna be a part of how fontaine dodges the prophecy. but its still very hmmmmmm

sigewinnes traitor moment actually caught me off guard it was SO funny. like she was actually fooling us i loved that. sure she always had good intentions and everything but still iconic. in general just how wrio and gang outplayed us in the fortress of merupide was great like it just really emphasizes how bro Runs the place for real for real and it was excellent. the massive ship was kind of out of left field tho. inb4 ptahur just crushes that thing anyway lmaooooo

theres probably more still but uh this is already too long JSJSKSKDK anyway yes i did enjoy acts III and IV very much how did you notice. sorry for the length of this crazed frenzy but not sorry actually. it feels so nice to get fed finally. im so hype for 4.2.

edit: wait i forgor furina. honestly im not gonna lie i was too mesmerized by arlecchino to pay that much attention to her so sorry about that but like GAJSKDJDKDK she was great too!!!

#rambles #genshin

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