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crystal-overdrive · 3 months ago

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Writer Interview Tag ✍️

Thank you for the tag @darkurgetrash!

When did you start writing?

I'm a pandemic writer! I'd always liked the idea of writing, but lockdown gave me the time to actually commit to finishing pieces. I wrote my first visual novel when I was 26, moved into narrative design at work at 27, then started my master's degree in creative writing at 29. Towards Tyranny is the first fanfiction I've written, though I have been a reader since 2008-ish. From both perspectives I suppose I'm relatively late to writing. Sometimes I feel like I'm ancient and sometimes I feel very young, but I think having a decade of life experience under my belt before I started writing has helped me to craft more meaningful narratives. The best writers I know are in their 50s and I'm twenty years off that! With admitting that I'm actually educated in and have professional experience with writing, I feel like I must explain that Towards Tyranny is 100% unedited - pure brain garbage. I'm more invested in keeping up with my schedule and delivering a story than crafting fantastic (or even middling) prose.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Outside of fic I mostly write science-fiction and drama. I listen to a lot of horror audio drama and fiction podcasts, and while there is a horror element lurking in the background of some of my work, I'm yet to fully venture into that territory.

Most of the sci-fi I read is lefty political spec-fic. Eventually I'd like my own sf work to contain those sorts of themes but I don't think I'm politically astute enough right now to do that justice.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

One of the best-worst comments I ever got from a professor was "Neal Stephenson can get away with this. You are not Neal Stephenson," in reference to my use of dense neologisms and tech-industry specific language. He later said the piece was better than Blade Runner so, idk, maybe I can get away with that! 😂 I got another Philip K Dick comparison with my current supervisor when we were talking about theme and he told me his prose is shit but he does theme so well that it doesn't matter. 😬 With prose, the dream is to be some combination of Ursula K Le Guin and William Gibson, write some ecofeminist cyberpunk stuff. With drama I'm obsessed with Caryl Chruchill. She breaks the rules in such delightful ways, and my latest play cribs her werido no-punctuation style.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I have my own office because when I was working both my partner and I were under NDAs, so we had to give up the spare bedroom so we could stop sharing the office. I couldn't go back now. Having space in the house just for me is so wonderful. My desk is frequently an absolute state, but it's organised chaos, I know where everything is. I have my craft books in here and a big whiteboard for all my tasks for the week. Behind my monitor I have a motivation wall of printed out comments on my work, and I also have all the fandom artwork I've bought framed in here. The other art in the house is a little more tasteful so this is the sexy Gortash quarantine zone.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I think it depends on your definition of muse. If it means "the will to write", there is no muse. Its all routine and deadlines, baby. I know I sound like one of those grouchy old writers, but you sit and you write, that's it. Some days it's crap. Most days it isn't. In terms of idea generation, my primary technique is just daydreaming, honestly. I joke with my partner that I'm "going to bed to watch TV" which actually means just imagining what's going to happen next in my story for like 2 hours before I fall asleep. I go on a walk most days and think then. In dire moments just lying on the floor until an idea comes also works. When I'm actually gearing stuff up for pitching I look back through my old notebooks, make mind maps and take inspiration from news and magazines. I have a box with clippings from Wired, New Scientist and those trashy "true story" magazines like Take a Break. Juxtaposing headlines and images from those often gives me something interesting to work with. I went to an archives workshop recently so I might try archive diving when I start my next project.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Alternative realities and expectations of women seem to saturate my writing. This year I've written a screenplay about jumping dimensions which questioned the value of motherhood, part of a novel about teenage girls being suicide baited in VR to achieve eternal beauty, an interactive fiction piece about a game able to alter reality and a radio play about simulation theory.

Towards Tyranny is absolutely loaded with the expectations of women thing, with marriage, children, parental expectations and societal expectations being really core to Tav's life choices and dilemmas. It's a pretty negative take considering where we're going right now.

What is your reason for writing?

That's an interesting question! There's absolutely no doubt that Towards Tyranny is kind of therapy for me. I wrote my way through a crisis of faith, through feeling like I was perceived as unequal to my partner, through losing friends to mortgages and pets and babies. I honestly don't think I would be engaged right now if I hadn't written this. I'm really terrible at identifying my own emotions and for some reason making up a hot character with all my worst traits and sending her down the fascist pipeline has helped me with that. 😂

I think at this point with TT I'm now writing for the audience. I know you're "not supposed" to do that but I don't create things to hide them away, I create things to connect with others, in the hope that someone else sees themselves in my viewpoint. I doubt I'm so unique that no one else has these problems!

In my more general writing life I suppose that is it, I write to connect with people, to share ideas, maybe? I just enjoy it, really.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

Every single time I get a comment it makes me so excited. I fucking live for comments. My favourites are definitely ones that speculate on what's coming next. The fun part of working in a serial format is going on that guessing journey with the readers and seeing where they think things are going. I'm pretty convinced that my readers have a very different idea of how TT will end compared to me, which is going to be interesting. 👀

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

For my wider work I almost don't want to be thought of, I'm big believer in death of the author and am really interested in audience interpretations and what they do with the work. With the fic, it's all about community. I must admit I have a very cringe fantasy of like, expertly ordering wine in my gorgeous heels at some BG3 convention and someone being like "you wrote Towards Tyranny, didn't you?". That's fucking embarrassing lol. But that's the point of (what used to be) a self-insert, right? You but cool and hot? I suppose I want the audience to think I'm smart, elegant, astute, while honestly what I'm telling them is that I'm a dumbass who doesn't know her own emotions and has a crisis over how people view her every other week.

There's definitely a lot of power in knowing that people are waiting for you to post next week and to know that you're eliciting emotion from them. My posting schedule is important to me. I would die if I thought my audience saw me as flaky or unable to commit and finish what I started.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

My dialogue is pretty good. Most of my education has been in writing for stage and screen, and I think that comes across in my prose too. I don't have a car, so I spend a lot of time being nosy on public transport and listening to how people talk, and I hope that's filtered into how I write different voices.

How do you feel about your own writing?

Some days I think I'm the Goddess' gift to the Earth and other days I think I'm the fucking worst and should just give up. The objective truth is that I'm...fine? I think I'm in a pretty good place as an early career writer. I've got loads of stuff to develop, but my plays are being picked up by scratch nights and small theatres, and I've had positive feedback on my prose by published authors. As I said before Towards Tyranny is not an accurate reflection of my skill level but I do really like it, it's fun, it has stuff to say, it's hot. I've had a lot of doubts about it given it's my first longform piece and my first fanwork, particularly with the sex scenes and the idea that it probably won't end how the readership wants it to, but it does have a readership who have been incredibly kind about it, which has really bolstered me in moments of doubt.

#gosh that turned into an essay #writing #fanfic writing #tag game #writing tag game

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ask-de-writer · 1 year ago

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

(Part 64 of ?)

18+ readers only (sex scenes)

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 64 of ? (Work in Progress)

De Writer

67461 words (story in progress)

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This story is age restricted to 18+

years or older!

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story? Read from the start HERE

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Princess Twilight's attention was captivated by the dancers on the different stages. She practically glomped the other two Princesses and demanded to know, “Have you ever seen any dance performance like these? I know that there is no record of them in the Royal Library! I looked, after I found your private closed stacks!”

Princess Luna gave her a sideways look as she replied, “Oh, you did, did you?”

Princess Celestia just turned red in the face. Quietly, she returned, “No, Twi, a performance like this is turning into? Never in close enough to four thousand years have I seen anything like this.”

Kin had quietly herded Pinkie Pie back to the group. She whispered, “Twi is hatching an idea that you will absolutely want to hear.”

The Gryphon Ambassador was listening closely. He had a mirror out and was whispering, “Grata, Hisst, Empress, this show is like nothing ever done before and it is being done for our aid! Princess Celestia just confirmed that she has never beheld anything like it! The show has not even been put on and already they have raised about thirty eight thousand golden bits for us!”

He listened carefully to the reply. “I will tell them. There is much else happening in the Kingdom. They are, along with this, working to forstall a coup attempt.

“The first of the four casualty trains will be coming this afternoon. The Kindred Spirit Trauma Hospital is fully staffed and waiting for them.”

He listened more and closed his mirror.

He turned to Pinkie and gestured with a wing at the set dance going on the stage, “How do you manage to have a three step waterfall and pool on the stage?”

Pinkie snorted, “We had a little help with that one! It is mostly a Glamor spell cast by one of the foremost practitioners of non Equine magic in the kingdom.”

Meanwhile, Luna, eybrows raised almost all the way to her crown, was asking, “Are you sure about this, Twilight? Yes, Tia and I are the second and third best Rom dancers presently living but Rom dance is not like this!”

Nodding emphatically, Twilight stated, “True. Kin can coach us in how this kind of dance works in only a few minutes. We saw that last night.”

Celestia pointed out, “This might conflict with the Hospital's work.”

Luna replied, “We have a day and a half. Besides casualties we have ten more Gryphon surgeons who are not injured coming to learn. With their help, we could easily deal with the new cases.

“I think that Twi's idea is a good one! We have WATCHED enough performances. It is about time that we are IN one! Get Pinkie, Foamy, and Clarice over here while we still have the time!”

Pinkie piped up, “I'm already here. What's your idea?”

The other two nudged Twilight forward, “It's your idea, Twi. You pitch it.”

She took a deep breath and began, “Well, I thought that We, the Princesses could do one of the features between the set pieces. The basic idea is that we will all be on stage, taking turns as the lead. We will all be using those hidden wing outfits. First, Celestia will begin, with a low spotlight that will brighten. As it does, she will do the wing reveal and some flashy wing work, then she will be pulling hers close as I join her and sort of do the same while she goes to support dancing and then Luna will join me and I will retire to the support role with Celestia.

“Sort of presenting the passage of a day, through evening and night. You see?”

Pinkie bobbed her head as she turned and sprinted for the stages, “Foamy! Clarice! Quick! We have a dance emergency! You need to score a new one, fast!”

The Princesses huddled with the choreographers as Twilight explained her idea. Kin joined them shortly.

Kin pointed out, “I will need to do Princess Twilight entirely from scratch, which is no problem. For both Princesses Celestia and Luna I will need to lift coordination issues from Red. Their dancing is done to a music that is completely alien to what you will all be working with. Also, stripping is a whole different mindset. With your royal permission I will take care of it for you.”

Without waiting, she took up a pencil and pad, beginning to make sketches while talking over the act with the choreographers.

Pinkie nodded, not even waiting for their answer as she took off for backstage! Shortly she returned with Red. “Here you are, Kin. She is happy to do this for the show! Giving Royals, wing work and stripping reflexes? Not something found on most resumes!”

Celestia nodded, “True enough! Have we got time enough to do a full rehearsal? I mean, those trains of casualties will be arriving soon.”

Luna gave a slightly embarrassed happy skip as she replied, “Plenty of time, actually. Even once they get here, they have to be offloaded and the cases transported to the hospital. These are nearly all serious injuries but not life threatening. What I wonder is whether our costumes can be ready in time for us to rehearse with them.”

Rarity spoke up from where she was watching the finale of the mainstage second act, “If I can get the measurements and costume work up sketches, I should be able to have them for you in less than an hour.”

Kin put down her pencil and handed Rarity the file of drawings that she had been working on. “Here you go, Sweet Love. But not before you get a kiss. I've missed hugging you for simply hours!”

Suiting action to words, she pulled Rarity close and kissed her deeply. As they broke the kiss, Rarity added, “As soon as I get back with these, we will watch a run through of the act and then, Love of Mine, we both are in serious need of milking!”

Kin grinned, placing a hand over her boobs in fake modesty, she replied archly, "Should you speak of such things in public?” Breaking into a grin, she finished, “Only when alone or with some pony, like say, ME! Now scoot! Sooner done, sooner we play!”

With a flirt of her tail, Rarity got.

Kin held Red close and gently stroked from the back of her head to the end of her ribs, her fingers dancing lightly along. She gave Red a quick hug and then gestured to Princess Twilight.

“You first, My Princess. It will not take long, but I have the most to do with you. As I have promised, State and personal secrets are totally safe.”

She simply nodded and snuggled up to Kin. As Kin's fingers danced along her spine, Twilight's ears pointed down to the stage where the between act feature dancer was beginning! Her eyes opened in comprehension! “So THAT is what all those dance teachers were trying to show me!”

As she traded places with Princess Luna, Luna giggled, “What? They were trying to teach you how to strip?”

Twilight bleped her tongue at Luna and confessed, “Actually, it was picking up the rhythm of the music for dancing. I've always sort of had two left hooves at dancing. Now I know how to do it right!”

As Celestia took her turn with Kin, she commented, “That's wonderful, Twi. I love Rom dancing but Court ballroom? Boring. I rather expect that this will be anything but!”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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#FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC #Part 64 of ?#age restricted 18+#MLP Fan Fiction #Written by De Writer #WORK IN PROGRESS

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nooowestayandgetcaught · 1 year ago

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moar!

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

14) There's a number of them,,,, IJDNDWJDS. But I mean Thirty-Two Letters (The Master (Dhawan)/Missy/The Master (Simm), Doctor Who, T-rating) because who wouldn't love to see three Masters in one place being absolutely chaotic and a little into each other????

15) Definitely it is spontaneous. It will either be a thing flashing through my head, or a line from the fic, or I'm always listening to music so then a piece of lyric ends up making itself the title.

16) Sometimes at the beginning of writing, sometimes at the end.

17) I think researching fic years ago is now I learned an age group of children have two sets of teeth at the same time? Like the adult teeth growing underneath or alongside the baby teeth? Nightmare fuel.

18) nah nah nah I'm giving a whole scene out of a favorite:

In his arm, Captain Jack Harkness lugs up gigantic strawberries, a bowl of steaming noodles, and one large canister of water. His pecs and arm-muscles bulge. "I'll be outta here in a second; I was just grabbing—" He stops dead in his tracks, now gawking at the Doctor, nearly dropping his items. "—you had sex." "What?" the Doctor squeals, making an absurd face. "You, Doctor—you had sex," Captain Jack Harkness declares smugly. He nods. "Recently." Her mouth forms into a small, tight 'O'. "Call it a gift. I've got a bloodhound sense for this." Captain Jack Harkness sets down his items with another pile on a kitchen countertop, ripping open the vinegar crisps with a flourish. "Do I get to hear the details? Hmm? Was it any good?" he asks cheerfully, popping a crisp into his mouth and grinning wryly. "Was it the silver-haired fox?" "Jack—" "Wishful thinking. At least for me. But, no, I have sadly not been doing the deed with you. Thanks for reminding me." Captain Jack Harkness sighs dramatically and gazes at the ceiling, and then perks up. "Was it the cheeky one?" he asks. "Ryan?" "Absolutely not!" the Doctor shouts, completely offended. "I'm not sleeping with Ryan! Or Graham for that matter!" "Glad to hear it because I've got my eye on Graham. He's quite the kisser." Captain Jack Harkness hums, smacking his lips thoughtfully as he chews on another salty vinegar crisp. "That leaves Yasmin Khan." A flustered, high-pitched noise escapes the Doctor's mouth. She refuses to play along, grumpily narrowing her eyes. "Huh. Interesting. I'm out of guesses if we aren't counting River."

#ask #glove23

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randomvarious · 1 year ago

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Today's compilation:

The Wild Bunch (18 Metal Masters) 1985 Heavy Metal / Thrash Metal / Glam Metal / Progressive Metal / Speed Metal / Hard Rock

Oh man, I swear that I'm about to go to my local thrift store to buy a denim jacket and then tear its sleeves off and start securing patches to it with safety pins after listening to this thing. Back in 1985, the cassette-only, New York-based ROIR label, in conjunction with Hit Parader Magazine, put out this ephemeral mid-80s snapshot of all things metal, from the glam to the prog to the speed to the thrash, and it just goes so satisfyingly hard, you guys 😤👊🤘. If you were a metalhead in the 80s, this feels like something you'd definitely pop into the tape deck of your boxy red sedan and then cruise on into your suburban high school's parking lot with, looking like a total badass with the volume cranked up and the windows rolled down. It's really such a whole goddamn vibe 😎.

A lot of folks rightfully make fun of most of the stupid and inane hair band material that ruled the Sunset Strip back in the 80s, and, outside of the thrashing big four of Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, and Slayer—the latter three of whom appear on this album itself—that highly commercialized sound does really seem to have defined what 80s metal was for most people. But the heart of that enormous, MTV-aided boom really occurred a little after the release of this tape, so what you end up getting here is a bunch of sweet tunes that, unless 80s metal is already your domain, you probably haven't ever heard before.

And one really need look no further than this cassette's tone-setting opener for a prime example. "Pull the Trigger," by Seattle's Q5, is just a quintessential piece of some straight-up hard and heavy 1980s rock music if I've ever heard it before. These guys reunited in 2014, but prior to that, they had only managed to put out a pair of albums in the mid-80s. And on this particularly fierce tune from their debut LP, lead singer Jonathan Scott K. sports an impressive and passionately scratchy yell that smacks of a higher-pitched Brian Johnson from AC/DC. And, of course, the song also comes with a kick-ass guitar solo too.

Then, not too long after that, we get another band that also only put out a couple albums in the mid-80s before getting back together: a quintet of speed demons called Agent Steel, whose absolute fit of fury, "Taken by Force," should have you going totally ballistic by the time the back-to-back solos hit. It's just so utterly jaw-dropping what these guys were able to conjure up with all their energy in that one 🤯.

And then another fast gem on here happens to come from—say it with me now—yet another band that only blessed us with a pair of albums in the mid-80s before they ended up reuniting too: LA's Abattoir, who provide a swifter cover of one of speed metal's biggest ever commercial hits, "Ace of Spades," which is originally by the band that many regard to be the first ever in speed metal history, Motörhead. Basically, if you love the original version of this song, I don't really see how you couldn't love this newer one too. It's high-octane fuel for a flying-motorcycle-riding skeleton whose skull is perpetually on fire, which, in other words, means that it's a total banger 🔥.

So, outside of the dumb and tacky hair metal hits that the irony-poisoned side of me really can't help but love, I've never been much in the habit of actually listening to quality 80s metal before. But this little cassette tape here appears to have opened up something of a brand new world for me. I always assumed that there was good 80s metal out there outside of the big four, but I never really seemed to have found much of it; until now 🙂.

Highlights:

Q5 - "Pull the Trigger" Shok Paris - "Marseilles de Sade/Battle Cry" Agent Steel - "Taken by Force" Anthrax - "Metal Thrashing Mad" Megadeth - "Chosen Ones" Abattoir - "Ace of Spades"

#heavy metal #metal #rock #thrash metal #thrash #glam metal #progressive metal #prog metal #speed metal #hard rock #music #80s #80s music #80's #80's music

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chorusfm · 7 months ago

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Keane – Hopes & Fears

There was something in the water in 2004. Not every year delivers even one classic debut album; 2004 was serving them up like it was going out of style. Hot Fuss; Franz Ferdinand; Funeral; Bows + Arrows; The College Dropout. Not all of those albums have aged well, but they all left an indelible mark on music, and most of them delivered at least one iconic hit – the kind of deathless single that will live on forever and ever on wedding dancefloor playlists or supermarket sound systems. I have, at one time or another, loved all of those albums. But in 2004 proper, if you’d have asked me which brand-new artist I was most excited to follow over the course of their career, I would have answered Keane, and I’d have done it without hesitation. Keane were never going to be cool. They were pitched as the heirs apparent to Coldplay, which is probably a pretty big “strike one” for most tastemakers. They also made big, grandiose soft rock that wore its heart on its sleeve; there was no wit or irony here, just uber-emotional songs about unrequited love and the pains of growing up. Probably fair to call that strike two. And perhaps least cool of all, Keane were a rock band with no guitars. Even Coldplay, as wussy as their reputation would suggest they were, still had songs with Big Ass Guitars. Keane were a three-piece with a singer, a drummer, and a keyboardist, and the pianos were front and center in every single song. Do I even need to say it? Strike three; get outta here! While those three things may have caused a lot of people to turn their noses up at Keane, though, they were all extremely attractive to 14-year-old me – especially the piano thing. Growing up, I wanted to play the guitar. I was the classic “raised on rock music” kid, who thought there was absolutely nothing cooler than a person standing on a stage and playing a guitar extremely well. In an alternate universe, maybe someone gives me a guitar for my 14th birthday and I devote my entire life to mastering it. In this universe, though, I spent my childhood suffering a form of eczema that caused my hands – and especially my fingertips – to dry out, crack, and bleed. My fingers were such a problem that I couldn’t hold a pencil the normal way growing up, much less try to play an instrument notorious for tearing up your fingers. And so, I learned to play piano instead. That sometimes hurt, too, and I definitely bled on the keys once or twice (the things we do for our art!) but it was a hell of a lot easier than trying to push down metal strings. Needless to say, I didn’t get a guitar for my 14th birthday. What I did get was a copy of Keane’s Hopes & Fears. Seeing Keane emerge and turn into a big fucking deal was, for Craig the piano player, a formative moment. It’s not that I wasn’t aware of piano’s status as a rock ‘n’ roll instrument; I’d obviously heard my parents listening to Bruce Springsteen and Billy Joel and Elton John over the years, or my brother listening to Ben Folds Five, or the likes of Five for Fighting or (again) Coldplay playing on the radio. But Keane coming up just as I was starting to take ownership of my own musical journey was different somehow. Maybe it’s because it felt like I was discovering them for myself; maybe I just liked the songs better. Whatever the reason, when “Somewhere Only We Know” started cropping up on radio playlists and in TV commercials, it sent a message I’d never really heeded from any other music before: You could play piano and still become a rock star. I’d been taking piano lessons for five or six years at that point, but I’d never invested my heart into it. I dutifully practiced every day, and I took on the classical pieces that my teachers assigned me, but there wasn’t much passion there. Hearing Keane got me thinking about piano in a different way. Soon, I was bringing my own ideas into piano lessons, taking pop and rock songs in and telling my teachers that this was what I wanted to learn. And before long, I was learning how to play and sing at the same time.… https://chorus.fm/reviews/keane-hopes-fears/

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catbowserauthor · 1 year ago

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A wee bit more…

Donnie found himself drawn awake. Not too surprising. He was absolutely the family insomniac. And given everything that had happened in the last 24 hours.

Donnie shuddered to think of what Bishop would have done if they’d not shown up. The little girl was just old enough that Bishop could gave gotten decent data from dissection.

And he would have taken her apart, piece by piece.

His little niece.

Hard to fathom, even harder to imagine it was Mikey’s blood. The idea of him as a parent…

But so far, he’d surprised them all. He’d spring right into it, as if he’d been planning for it his entire life.

Thinking back, the stories he wrote, the way he interacted with any kids they’ve countered, maybe he had…

Donnie stopped mid step when a soft, rhythmic melody drifted out, growing stronger by the acoustics of the Lair’s design.

As he came upon the entry to the main room, where the water flowed, Master Splinter greeted him with a finger to his lips.

“Many times,” he whispered, “I have found that I know my sons well, better than themselves even,” he shook his head and looked back out to the main hall. “I have never been more happy to be wrong.”

Donnie followed his glance.

Mikey was pacing back and forth around the water, the tiny baby cradled in his arms. He gazed at her as if she was all that existed in the world. Smiled at her with so much joy it leaked out of his eyes in tears

And he sang.

Not the high pitched funny singing or off pitch rapping he did for entertainment. This was soft, deep, and resonated with heart:

Cast away your worries, my dear

For tomorrow comes a new day

Hold to me, you've nothing to fear

For your dreams are not far away

As you lay your head and you rest

May your dreams take over, my love

Listen close, my girl of the west

For your destiny lies above

Though the world is cruel

There's a light that still shines

In the darkest days of our lives

When all hope seems lost

and you can't find your way

Think of me as you look to the sky

Child mine, your future is bright

—yes, that’s Inuyasha’s lullaby because I think it’s gorgeous.

Okay @brightlotusmoon so this was one of my ideas for 2003 Mikey!

Mikey stared at the screen. He should have been worried that Donnie would find him playing with “His Precious!” as he and the others playfully called it but his brain was frozen, sealed in place.

To be fair, he’d begun this quest to help his brother and hopefully prevent him from becoming a walking zombie. He doubted the resident genius would necessarily see it that way though.

Agent Bishop’s files were a PAIN to sort through. Donnie had taken a break finally. But Mikey, as always, stumbled across a seemingly simple solution.

He’d started to search for their names.

Made sense to him. Bishop knew their names. He’d used them. Why not encode it that way? Did all scientists insist on using boring codes? Donnie seemed to think so but…

Apparently not. When Mikey typed in a search for his own name (noting with a smirk that Bishop spelled it incorrectly), it came up with a file:

Project Rebirth. Most samples acquired destroyed. Subject Michaelagelo (see, spelled wrong!) blood sufficient. Damage done during transfer to some genes but repair allowable to produce one specimen, one genetic generation apart.

He also called it first filial generation.

Mikey had studied enough of Donnie’s notes and sci fi to get the gist of such meaning.

Rocking back, stone cold to the core of his shell, he grasped at the concept.

A child. Bishop had made a child from him.

“I’ve…I’ve got a baby?”

#2003 mikey deserved better #mikey would be such a good parent #tmnt #michelangelo is a badass #sensitive mikey #mikey wants kids

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shadamyheadcanons · 2 years ago

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Headcanon #274

My buddy shadowsfascination tagged me in a post asking which song I’m “vibing to” right now. I didn’t know who to tag and it’s a song that reminds me of Amy, so I wrote this weird, meta headcanon involving the song instead. Heads up: contains the probably misplaced optimism of a starved Amy fan.

“Maybe...hmmm...no, not that either!”

Shadow poked his head around the corner of his living room when he heard Amy’s grumbles. “Everything alright?”

Amy, Rouge, and Omega turned toward Shadow when he spoke, and Amy perked up. “Hey, Shadow! There are certain ~rumors~ floating around Sega that I might be getting a more important role in something soon,” she stage-whispered with a cheeky wink. “I’ve been needing a new theme song for years. I liked ‘My Sweet Passion’ by Nikki Gregoroff at first, but the more I listen to it, the more it feels...” She cringed.

“‘Dated’?” Rouge suggested, trying to be diplomatic.

“’MY SWEET PASSION’ IS A BIZARRE SONG WITH EVEN STRANGER LYRICS.”

Rouge gawked at Omega’s blunt statement, but Shadow and Amy both laughed. “No, Rouge, he’s right,” Amy managed through her giggles. “It’s just...not me.” She stared down at the blank piece of paper in front of her on the coffee table, then snapped her head back up. She clenched her hands into fists, and her eyes shone with determination. “This is supposed to be Sega’s job, but they’ve been no help, so I’m taking matters into my own hands! Once they see me take initiative, they’ll have to realize my potential!”

“You’re damn right,” Shadow agreed with a nod.

Rouge looked at him a little funny before turning back to Amy. “I still think you should go with ‘Follow Me’ by Kay Hanley. It really suits you.”

Amy shook her head fiercely. “No can do. That’s Team Rose’s theme. I wouldn’t feel right taking it for myself without Cream and Big by my side.”

No one bothered to point out that Team Rose hadn’t been properly reunited in a game for ages. It was a sore spot for Amy, and the others felt it was wasted potential, too.

“AMY. YOU MUST REVISIT MY SUGGESTION.”

“Absolutely not!” Amy laughed. “My theme song is not going to be ‘U Can’t Touch This’ by MC Hammer, and that’s final!”

“BUT THE LYRICS SAY ‘HAMMER TIME.’ IT IS A FLAWLESS MATCH.”

Shadow shook his head and sighed. He walked farther into the room and took out his phone. “None of you know what you’re doing. Watch the master.”

Amy looked confused, so Rouge explained as Shadow scrolled through his music. “Shadow has fourteen theme songs.”

“He has how many?!”

Shadow shrugged at Amy’s exclamation. “I’m a complicated man.” He tried to stay serious, but a soft snort escaped eventually, and the others laughed. “Aaaaand...here we are.”

He propped his phone up on the coffee table and waited as the peppy beat of a pop song emanated from his phone. Amy immediately hopped a bit and let out an excited little “oo!” at the song’s energy. Subdued vocals chimed in, contrasting with the mood at first, but they rose in pitch and volume as the song reached its joyous, hopeful chorus.

An off-season Swallow So that’s me Non-stop love song I’ll follow you Wherever you go!

I can’t wait to Catch up before the sun sleeps Not if you’re short of breath I’m the Disaster of Passion

By the time the second verse rolled around, Amy’s grin was as radiant as Shadow had ever seen it. Every lyric suited her perfectly, from the overzealous crush to the singer’s unwavering dedication, so much that she’d chase her beloved everywhere. Even Rouge and Omega looked impressed. Amy bobbed her head along happily.

The energetic beat finally faded out, and Amy immediately jumped into the air and squealed, “I love it! It’s perfect!” She pulled Shadow into a tight hug. “Oo, thank you Shadow! Now I can’t fail!” While Shadow recovered from the unexpected hug, Amy hurriedly scrawled down the song name and artist on the piece of paper and dashed for the door. She opened it and waved to them one more time, her smile brilliant. “Thanks, guys! I’ll see you later!”

Shadow looked after her fondly as the door swung shut. He didn’t see Rouge glance at his phone, perplexed.

“Since when do you listen to music like that? You normally stick to jazz, rock, and metal.”

“SHADOW HAS GROWN QUITE FOND OF THAT SONG IN PARTICULAR,” Omega cut in before Shadow could answer. “I RECOGNIZED THE WAVEFORMS FROM OUR APARTMENT’S AUDIO SYSTEMS. HE SELECTS IT FROM HIS PLAYLIST MULTIPLE TIMES A DAY.”

Rouge only looked more confused. She glanced back and forth between the phone and the door. She looked up at Shadow’s eyes, and then sadness crossed her face as she figured it out. He nodded in response to her unanswered question, seeing no reason to lie or feel ashamed of his feelings. Rouge winced. “You’ll listen to a song like that on repeat to remind you of her, even knowing who those feelings are really for?” she asked, her voice going quiet and strained at the end.

Shadow stayed calm and unfazed as he gazed in the direction Amy had left. “I’d never ask her to stop being her. Amy’s passion is what I love most about her.” He smirked wryly. “I just wish she had better aim.”

“BETTER AIM?!” Omega chimed in, straightening up in his seat. “PERHAPS I CAN BE OF ASSISTANCE AFTER ALL.”

Rouge snorted, then gave Shadow a reassuring smile. “Someday.”

He nodded in agreement and showed a true smile, inspired by the hope he always saw from his favorite hedgehog. “Someday.”

“The Disaster of Passion” by AKIRA is the theme song of May from Guilty Gear Strive. Given that, I know they couldn’t/wouldn’t actually use it for Amy, which is a real shame. It’s perfect for her.

It’s possible Amy could have a role--a sizable one, even--in one or two upcoming pieces of Sonic media, but it’s probably just wishful thinking on my part. And yeah, Shadow really does have fourteen theme songs. Can’t Amy have one more, Sega? As a treat?

#shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #sonic the hedgehog #hc #Shadowsfascination #Light in the Dark #Everyone Ships Shadamy #Rouge the Bat #e 123 omega #Trollmega #Team Dark #Song & Dance

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writingpracticetime · 3 years ago

Text

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer. But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter. You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

#my writing #original writing #oops posted on the wrong blog #fixing that reeally quick #constructor

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restlessfandoming · 4 years ago

Text

campfire in the snow (chilumi)

hey friends back again with that fanfic writing :^)

this is my headcannon that childe absolutely suffers during the colder winter months as a hydro user (based on this post here) so SOMEONE’s gotta take care of him

in other words, a chilumi...chilumine? lumichilde? CHILDE X LUMINE sick fic !!!

thanks for reading as always <3

[Fic Masterlist]

“campfire in the snow”

“Ahchoo!”

Lumine glanced at Childe, watching him sniffle miserably as they walked through the woods towards Mondstadt.

The sky was overcast, giving the land the hazy gray glow of winter, and the chilly temperature felt stiff against shivering bodies—their coats only warming them slightly. Their shoes crunched in the snow from last night’s snowstorm; the promise of another snowfall hung in the air.

“Are you sick?” Lumine asked.

Childe gave a weak smile. “Of course not. In top shape as always.” Then, AHCHOO! Another sneeze.

Paimon popped up in front of the Harbinger’s face, staring directly at his red nose. “You don’t sound so good to me. Paimon thinks you’re sick!”

“Hate to say it, but I definitely agree with Paimon,” Lumine said, ignoring the guide’s flailing arms of anger. “I think we need to get you somewhere warm.”

The orange haired man playfully scoffed. “All I need to do is speak with the Grand Master of the Knights. Easiest mission of my—sniff—life.”

The traveler stopped in her tracks, and took off her own scarf, holding it out for Childe. “Then at least take this. I think you need this more than me.”

He looked at the scarf, eyes almost glazing over from yearning. He shook his head. “I’d never take something from a lady in need.”

Lumine almost threw the scarf at him. “I’m not in need.”

“And she’s not a lady; have you seen her eat?”

“Paimon.”

“Paimon only tells the truth!”

“Thank you, really, but it’s just a little reaction to the colder weather. No big deal,” Childe assured, walking past Lumine’s offering.

“What’s his problem?” she muttered, as he walked ahead. She heard him coughing in the distance. Why won’t he just take it?

“He doesn’t seem so threatening now, does he?” Paimon said. “Paimon’s never seen him so weak…”

“Weak…,” Lumine echoed.

Of course.

Childe was a member of the Fatui. A Harbinger. A deadly fighter. Someone who used a bow despite it being his weakest weapon.

He would never accept help like this, not when it made him feel weak.

Lumine groaned in frustration. Stupid, stupid man. She continued on the path, picking up her pace to try and catch up to him.

Except he was nowhere to be seen. The cold set into her body a little more.

“Childe?” she called out. She ran down the path, eyes scanning every inch of the snowy road and fields. Then—

“Lumine, look!” Paimon shouted, speeding over to Childe’s body laying in the snow.

The blonde traveler quickly scrambled to his side, flipping him over so his face wasn’t buried in the snow. He was drained of color, and his body felt ice cold. There was barely air leaving his nose.

“Childe!” she called, shaking him. Wake up; please, wake up!

He didn’t move. Lumine cursed.

“What should we do?” Paimon asked frantically.

Lumine took a deep breath in, then took off her own coat and scarf, placing it on Childe’s shoulders. She shuddered as the winter air nipped at her skin.

“Now you’re gonna freeze to death!”

“It’s okay, Paimon,” she said, beginning to pick up the unconscious man. “We need to find somewhere to stop and start a fire.”

Paimon nodded worriedly, trying to (unsuccessfully) help Lumine shoulder Childe. The traveler eventually had his arm slung across her shoulders, and her arm gripped his waist.

The three shuffled down the path, searching for any sort of shelter or firewood. As time went on, Lumine felt colder and colder, her whole body beginning to ache under the weight of Childe. Every so often, she would call out his name, hoping to hear a response, but there was nothing.

As she crested the top of the hill, she spotted a tiny cabin at the base. Her ragged breath became concentrated as she mustered up the last of her energy to drag Childe there.

“Almost...there…,” she strained out. No response.

“Come on! You can do it!” Paimon cheered, though her scared expression betrayed her positivity.

Lumine was mere feet away from the door when she heard a familiar high pitched and distorted laughter ring out behind her.

An Abyss Mage!

She turned to see it prancing around in its bubble, icicles swirling around it.

Great, a Cryo Mage at that.

She set Childe down gently, then drew her sword. The blade shook in her hand, her teeth chattering. And she still felt winded. But I have to protect us.

“Try to wake him up,” she told Paimon. The tiny fairy nodded and started tapping his shoulder.

Lumine charged the mage. Her blade scraped against the frozen barrier. She slashed frantically, making miniscule scratches. Around her, icicles fell as the mage chanted spell after spell. It took all of her will to continuously dodge the attacks. Charging enough energy, she unleashed a Palm Vortex. The shield cracked considerably.

I can do this. She leapt at the mage, striking a few times, then casted a Gust Surge. The bubble crackled. A few more hits and the shield will be down. Then, it’ll be a piece of cake.

She started concentrating, trying to summon another Palm Vortex, when an icicle came unexpectedly from the side, slamming into her. She crumpled to the ground.

Nononono. She tried to get up, arms shaking, fighting the exhaustion in her body.

The sinister laughter drew closer as the mage floated towards her. It raised its staff, ready to deliver the finishing blow.

“Hey!”

Lumine looked past the mage.

There stood Childe, hunched over, gripping his side, but standing. She almost cried out in relief.

The mage made noises of anger, blinking away, then reappearing closer to Childe.

The Harbinger raised his hand, droplets forming from his palm.

No, Childe wait—! His Hydro elements didn’t stand a chance in this battle.

The beginnings of his spear formed. But then, the water quickly crystallized, turning into shards of ice, and dropping to the ground. Childe winced painfully.

Lumine jumped up on her feet, her energy renewed, and raced towards the mage.

The mage raised its staff again, forming a huge icicle above Childe. He wouldn’t have enough time to move, especially in his condition. The shard started falling.

“Childe!” Lumine screamed.

He closed his eyes. The mask sitting atop his head began to glow. It crackled with purple electricity, and spiraled out, creating a barrier. The large icicle shattered on impact. The mage shrieked in confusion.

Lumine took the distraction, and destroyed the Abyss Mage’s shield, then stabbed its critical point: right through its head. It vanished into the air.

“Good job...traveler…,” Childe said between heavy breaths. His voice sounded distorted, his eyes and expression darker than before. The electro-shield came down, and Lumine watched as he fell to his knees, before rushing over, and catching him before he fell down completely.

She felt his forehead on her bare shoulder. “You’re burning up,” she whispered.

He laughed weakly, before descending into coughs. “I hate to say it, but I think you were right,” he murmured.

She saw Paimon opening the door to the cabin. “Okay, c’mon, we only have a little bit to go, then we can rest.” She felt him nod.

When the three finally got into the cabin, Lumine laid Childe down, folding their scarves to make a pillow, and covering him with their coats. Paimon helped carry some pieces of wood to her, and soon a small fire was started. The guide disappeared back into her world to let Lumine rest.

Lumine finally let out a sigh of relief. She looked over Childe, making sure he didn’t have any injuries she didn’t notice before. Her eyes fell on his mask, the mask that created the electro-shield earlier.

Two elements? That shouldn’t be possible. Was he different, like her? Not of this world? There was certainly something dark about the mask, lurking beneath the surface.

She reached for the mask. Childe’s hand weakly sprung up, catching her before she could touch it. His eyes were still closed.

“Now, now, we don’t touch things that aren’t ours—isn’t that right, girlie?” he teased quietly. His voice was hoarse, strained.

“Even on the verge of death, you love teasing me,” Lumine responded. He still hadn’t let go of her wrist. “And anyways, I dragged you all the way here. You could at least tell me what that thing is.”

He opened his eyes, narrowly. “Sorry, sweetheart, Fatui secret.” Lumine tried pulling her wrist away, but he held onto it, then shifted it so he was holding her hand. “Thank you, Lumine.”

She blushed. “I couldn’t just leave you out there to die.” She looked at their intertwined hands. “Why did you take this mission anyways? You know it’s dangerous during the Cryo months for a Hydro user like you.”

There was a long pause of silence. She almost thought he had fallen asleep.

“It was for Mondstadt,” he finally replied. “I knew you would be here.”

She was feeling warm. Too warm. Is it the fire? Am I getting sick too?

“You should get some sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up,” she said, completely avoiding what he said. He nodded and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips.

Lumine observed his sleeping face, how harmless he seemed right now. None of his antics. None of the mystery surrounding him. None of that lurking darkness. Just a sick, lonely boy. A sick, lonely boy completely vulnerable to the world.

She started to get up, maybe to go cook some stew for him, but to her surprise, Childe held tightly to her hand.

“Stay,” he said, hazily. His eyelids were fluttering, like he was struggling to open them.

“...Okay.” Tired herself, she laid down next to him, tucking herself under the coats as well, glad for the warmth.

He pulled her closer, letting go of her hand, and instead wrapped his arms around her waist, tucking his head under her chin, like he was listening to her heartbeat—a heartbeat that was surely beating way too fast right now. This sickness is making him delusional…

She was about to start protesting when he started speaking.

“No one ever stays,” Childe whispered. It had been no louder than a small leaf rustling in the nighttime wind; Lumine might not have heard it if she wasn’t listening. Her heart broke a little.

She wrapped her arms tightly around him. You’re not alone.

“I’m here,” she whispered back. “I’m right here.”

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe x lumine #chilumi #childe #lumine #tartaglia #lumine x childe #fanfic #sickfic #me

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softmothprince · 4 years ago

Text

dragon’s claim

Zhongli's sweet darling needs a... gentle, reminder of what exactly they are to each other

this is a collab piece with one of my friends~ they are much better at writing fluff than i am and it hits me in the feels

-------------------------------------

She’s not pouting. Absolutely not. She’s also not glaring at the woman currently leaning on Zhongli’s arm, staring up at him with heart eyes as he rambles happily about the tea he was buying. Her arms are crossed and she leans heavily into the railing of the bridge, jaw clenched and teeth grinding.

No. She is not jealous of some… some… harlot! With a loud huff, she pushes off the railing and walks off the bridge, hearing her sandals click against the wood and then stone. Once she’s close enough, the tall geo archon looks up and gives that stupidly cute smile, cheerfully calling her name.

She refuses to acknowledge him and waits for him to finish his conversation. “Ready to go home dear?” he said with a sweet smile. She doesn’t respond and starts walking away back through the market as gently pulls her close to him. He sighs and leads her to a side alley, where she leans against a wall still not looking at him. He leans in close.

“Is my darling jealous?” He whispers, tucking her hair back behind her ear. His fingertips trace around her temple, then under her eye, before cupping her face. “You know I only hold affection for you, little one.”

He tenderly presses kisses over her cheeks and nose, placing a firm one on her lips. He pulls back enough to stare into her eyes, seeing the internal fight she is having. To submit to him or continue to pout and sulk. It makes him sigh and shut his eyes- as though a headache was creeping up on him.

“It seems I am going to have to… remind you, of that fact.” He decides, sliding his hands down to her wrists and brings her hands up to kiss them. His eyes peek open, glowing a warm amber in the dying light as he gives her a heated look. “I’m going to make love to you until your heart understands how much I love you.”

She pulls her face away and with a sad pout says, "Remind me of what Rex Lapis?"

He frowns, "That's not-"

"Remind me that only I get jealous and that the great Rex Lapis doesn't?!" she said with tears starting to fall down her face. "I'm the only one who gets possessive over you and you don't! It's like it doesn't bother you if someone else looks at me like that! Maybe next time Kaeya tries to-"

He slammed his hands into the wall, pinning her to it, "Kaeya did what?" he said with a low growl, his pupils having shifted into slits.

She shuddered for a moment. Seeing the amount of territorial possessive in his eyes made her heart stop and she struggled to find the words.

“Little one,” he said sternly, “I’m going to ask you again. What did Kaeya do?”

She took a deep breath. “The other day Kaeya came by the office and was trying to flirt as usual and he asked me if I wanted to go with him and have a real man for a master,” she answered nervously.

A fierce growl ripped from Zhongli’s throat, almost like a suppressed roar. She could see his struggle to stay composed as his fangs grew and scales started to appear on his neck.

“That damn bastard,” he said with another growl, “He has the audacity to try and take my precious mate from me?” She let out a small gasp. His horns were starting to poke through. “How dare he. If I see him again I’ll-”

He was cut off when he felt her hug him tightly. “I don't want anyone else!” she said before looking up at him. “The only master I want is you. My dragon, my Zhongli. So please don’t let anyone else try and take you from me either.” Her eyes on the verge of tears.

He sighed and kissed her forehead. “We’re going home. Now. I still have to teach you a lesson.” She nodded, “Yes Master.”

~*~

Her heart pounds in her chest, loud enough she wouldn’t be surprised if he heard it. Though, he’d had to be listening to that instead of the sounds coming from his hand playing with her cunt. After what had happened earlier, he had taken her home and immediately stripped them both of their clothes, pinning her down onto their bed.

It took him only a few seconds to pounce on her, his hand delving between her thighs to her pussy. It was wet and sticky, slick coating her thighs and his fingers. His narrowed gaze shifts from her pussy as he leans forward, latching onto her throat. His teeth scrape over her pulse, then travel down to the crook of her neck.

A deep scar laid on the soft flesh, marking her as his. His heart, his love, his mate. He eagerly kisses and nibbles around it, the scarred flesh much more sensitive and giving him the reactions he wanted. Her breath tickled his ear, every moan, sigh, and whisper of his name making him shiver.

He runs his other hand up her torso, cupping her breast and flicking his thumb gently over her nipple. She trembled more, waiting for him to snap and take her. She saw how fired up he had been earlier when just mentioning another man, she knows that flame is still burning fiercely in him.

And when he pulls away from her neck to look into her eyes, she can see it flickering in those piercing gems. A small bead of sweat drips down her neck and between her breasts, catching his attention. He doesn’t hesitate to follow it, kissing along the soft curve of her breasts, his tongue curling around her nipples when his mouth latches onto them.

Zhongli hums and pulls his hand away from between her legs, glancing at the mess he caused. She was far from cumming, but he had all night to… remind and teach her exactly what it meant to be his mate. Strong hands suddenly pull her across the bed until her legs dangle off the end, feeling a small burning from where the sheets rubbed.

He kneels between her thighs, nuzzling his cheek along the soft flesh and kissing the inside of her knee as he looks at her soaked pussy, a deep croon building in his chest. She shifts her still trembling legs, only to find them suddenly being grabbed and pinned to strong shoulders as a head of dark hair disappears between them.

She can hear him hum and whisper something, then say much louder in a teasing tone: “Itadakimasu~”

Something firm and hot swipes over her swollen clit, making her jolt with a loud yelp. Another swipe and she lets her head fall back onto the pillows, hands balling up into the sheets. Zhongli peers up at her through his lashes, taking in her reactions and growls when her thighs try to shut. He pushes them apart again, huffing against her cunt.

“Do not. Do that.” He scolds, then dives back in before she could speak, keeping his eyes on her face.

Loud slurps and wet smacks fill the room, blending in with his deep moans of pleasure. Her own suddenly reaches a higher pitch, her hips jumping when she feels his fingers slowly push inside and stroke the inside walls of her pussy. Her hand snaps down to tangle into his hair, tugging and causing more growls and moans to pour from his chest.

“I will never tire of this,” He purrs, pulling back slightly to look at how easily his fingers are sucked into her. “I will never tire of how beautiful you are when I pluck you like a lyre. The sounds you make are as sweet as birds' songs.” He dips down to suck on her clit, feeling her nails dig into his scalp.

“Your scent and taste are far better than the finest wines I’ve ever had. I will never tire of this.” He repeats, making sure that when he slowly stands up he catches her flustered gaze. “I will never tire of you.” He whispers, leaning over her body.

“Master-” She gasps and is cut off by him grabbing her knees, pushing them back against her chest.

She watches with wide eyes as his appearance smoothly changes, dark scales bleeding from his skin, fangs growing over his lips and horns poking through his hair. Zhongli rubs his fingers- no, they feel more like claws now -down her thigh and grabs his cock, lining up with her entrance.

His cock slides in easily, the walls of her cunt squeezing and sucking him in deeper. He bows his head, watching his dick thrust in and out, his breath picking up and sounds similar to growling building more and more. He returns his grip to her knees, leaning on them as his hips slap loudly against hers.

Sweat drips down his brow, his slitted pupil fluctuating as he looks at her face. Her cheeks are blushed a deep red, eyes rolling into the back of her head and mouth parted to let out moans and incoherent babbles.

“Master- Master ple-please, mo-more~” She sobs, nails scraping and digging into the skin of his arms and shoulders.

The small pinpricks of pain are lost in the throes of pleasure, his nerves burning with every thrust. He dips down to her ear, moaning and purring for a moment before managing to speak.

“Mate… you… breed… gonna fill you… so full… mine!…” He shudders, the familiar feeling of swelling at the lower part of his cock growing more and more. The knot kisses the outside of her cunt, dipping in ever so slightly before disappearing.

He grunts, one hand dropping her leg and going to grab her throat. He doesn’t squeeze to choke her, just presses enough to get her attention, growling her name when she only whimpers. Once those pretty eyes are on him, he lets his growing knot finally push in completely, feeling her entire body freeze as it registers the sudden sensation.

“Breathe, little one.” His voice is deeper. More rough than the usual smooth silk.

She finally lets out a sob, his knot pushing and rubbing her sweet spots deliciously. He manages a few more thrusts, until the knot is too swollen to pull out again. Does that stop him? Absolutely not. He humps and grinds like a man gone wild, slamming his mouth to hers to hide the animalistic sounds pouring out of him.

Her tongue flicks over his fangs, making him shudder and grip her tighter. He removes the hand from her throat and delves it between their bodies, finding her clit and- taking care of his claws -rubs it swiftly. A few more well placed thrusts, his teeth nipping her bottom lip, and she convulses around his cock while crying out his name.

The ravenette drops onto his arms over her, continuing to move as he himself cums thick and hot inside her. He presses his forehead against hers, sharing their breaths and staring into each other's eyes as they slowly come down from their high. Both of them are shaking, his darling more so.

Ever so slowly, he lets her leg go and brings his hand up to cup her face, stroking his thumb over her cheek and wiping away the tears of pleasure she let out. His other hand goes to hers, bringing it from his shoulder and to press against his chest- right above his racing heart. He can feel hers through their fingers.

He kisses her hand and then dips his forehead to meet hers while their breath slowly steadies and his knot recedes. Once he can move again he carefully begins to clean her up and wrapping her in one of the blankets before sitting next to her on the bed. His dragon features slowly fading.

He pulled her in close, wrapping his arms around her and planting soft kisses on her temple as she nuzzled into his neck. He smiled at his darling as she relaxed in his arms, letting out a small laugh remembering her pouty face from earlier which caused her to look up at him. He kissed her forehead. She was so unbelievably cute when she got jealous or pouted. Something about her moments of attitude made him love her so much more.

He then looked into her eyes with a warm smile. "My precious darling, don't you know that I will spoil you with whatever your heart desires? Whether it be riches and gifts or," he kisses her hand softly, "my time and affection. Whatever you ask of me is yours."

She blushes and tries to hide her face in his neck but he holds her by the chin,

"Don't forget. Dragons mate for life and you darling are my mate. Understand?"

She nods her head, while gazing into his eyes.

"With words my dear," he says leaning in to graze his fangs on her neck as a small reminder of what they had just done.

"Y-yes sir," she says blushing.

He smiles and pulls her in closer while caressing her cheek. "Good girl. Now let's rest shall we? Rest and get all the cuddles you want from your Dragon."

#zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x you #fem reader #genshin impact #reader #zhongli x reader #lemon #writing

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oikadori · 4 years ago

Note

idk if you’re taking request atm but feel free to ignore this if ur requests are closed. ^^ i just would like to request an imagine/scenario for oikawa who has been preparing for argentina and hes highkey nervous on how would he continue his relationship with his gf bc of the distance and all that, but unbeknownst to him shes also been preparing to leave argentina with him bc luckily her scholarship there was granted and also bc shes set on sticking by oiks side to support him, thank u! 💞

Awww Nonniee I think this would be so cute. Sorry for not having the Requests Post by the time you sent this :( I think he might actually even cry when he acknowledge this 0///0. So here it is something with a lot of fluff! Thank you for requesting, hope you like it!

S/O telling Oikawa he is not going alone to Argentina

Oikawa x f!Reader

A/N: I’m a simp for domestic Oikawa...that’s the tweet HAHAHAHA. Thank you for reading! Enjoy! No but seriously I want to marry him, send help!!!

Genre/Warnings: fluff / timeskip spoilers

WC~693

“Babe, have you seen my blue jacket?”

You peek your head out of your bathroom with your toothbrush in your mouth, Oikawa’s broad back is facing you as he takes out his sport shorts out of your wardrobe. A big suitcase laying on the floor.

It only takes you a minute to spot his jacket right next to him.

“Mmph Uhmf”

“What?”, he turns back, eyebrows furrowing together at your noises. His nose scrunches further when you repeat your babbles in a high pitch tone, “I don’t understand youu!!”

You shake your head, amused, as his palms are facing up in confusion, you walk pass him to grab the so demanded jacket, teasingly shaking it in front him before throwing it to his pretty face.

“OK! OK! I get it…No need to get physical”, the setter whines at you, places the fabric in his suitcase, and sits on the floor as you stop the water from pouring down the sink.

“How are you gonna survive without me, Tooru?”, your cheeky voice makes Oikawa’s movements halt.

Suddenly, you feel the air heavier, filling itself with gloominess as Oikawa lifts his gaze at you with a faint smile.

“I have absolutely no idea”, he fakes giggle before resuming his activity, eyes focused on his passport as he clears his throat. “Uhm. Can you come with me tomorrow to take a new photo for this, I–“

“Tooru?”

His eyes widen at the sudden contact of your hand around his wrist, amazed at the speed you erased the distance between the two.

“I’m okay, really. I know it’s going to work.”, his voice doesn’t show the confidence of his words. He looks at you, wary. “We are going to make it work…right?”

You cup his cheek and just he let his chin fall between your hands, a troubled expression falling over his features.

“Of course, we will”

“Are you sure, Y/N?”, he looks at you, sceptic. “Because all the magazines and blogs I’ve read were pretty discouraging, you know?”

“Tooru, listen–“

“–Like, more than half of the couples break up–not to mention the different time zones”, his eyes are closed as he keeps rambling, unable to see how your face moves closer until it is only inches away from his, “What if I accidentally wake you up–mmh”

Oikawa’s eyes snap at the feeling of your warm lips over his, red rushing to his cheeks when he notices your cocky grin.

“This is serious, Y/N, don’t laugh”

“Oh, but it is hilarious”, he quickly moves away from your hands, chocolate eyes roaming your figure up and down in disbelief as you stand up, “Stop whining at me and help me getting down my suitcase”

“Your suit–Don’t joke about that, Y/N!”

“I promise you, Tooru–“ your boyfriend pouts, his bulky arms crossing over his chest as you walk to your nightstand before heading back with a piece of paper in your hand, “I’m dead serious”

He swallows hard, reading the words ‘Transfer’ and ‘Argentina’ together, suddenly, his heartbeat much more evident. Oikawa looks at you with awe, dumbfounded.

“What? You thought it was going to be easy to get rid of me?”

“Y/N…Is it re–“

“Very real” Oikawa drops the paper as you make your way in between his arms, “I’m sticking with you, Tooru, like glue”

Oikawa bites his lip as his eyes become a little glassy, familiar with this expression, your hands instinctively move from his waist to the back of his neck, tracing soft circles over his skin.

“Look what you do to me, princess”, he chuckles making your heart throb as he grabs your hand to place a bunch of kisses, your cheeks turn red at the softness of his lips, causing you to cough nervously, “I’m really, really lucky”

Oikawa admires your red face, his signature smile back on his features as his hands grab your waist to toss you onto the bed. You gasp, feeling his weight on top you, giggling when his puppy eyes stare at you, brimmed with joy.

“What?”

The brown-haired setter quickly captures your lips passionately, his big palms lifting your neck slightly, deepening the kiss.

“I just can’t wait to hear you speak in Spanish”

❀ Please reblog if you like it! ❀

Thanks for reading ♡♡♡

@kouffee-ink

↳ ∴ Master List ∴

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goodieghostyarchive · 3 years ago

Text

A stellar friend

Remy sat on the windowsill of his palace. Their blindfold tied around their forehead. Here, in this palace was the only place he could safely take off the soft elegantly crafted piece of fabric. The only place they could see. Their place was beautiful. Of course. It was originally built for their mortal father, Orpheus. Commissioned by their godly father, Virgil. Hopeful as the later had been that Orpheus, Remy’s papa, would change his mind and join them in the divine plane. And then papa died. Remy felt their throat tighten a little as they thought back to those times. They had never doubted how loved they were by the people around them. A melancholy smile tugged at their lips as they gently touched the fabric of their blindfold. Fashioned from a small piece of their father’s champion cloak. “I miss you,” they whispered into the night air. As bright as their palace was, it was permanently in the embrace of their father’s night sky, spilling over from his realm next door. The real sky. Not whatever that new creativity brat had made of it. The absolute disrespect. Remy ought to ban that man from communing through anyone’s dreams for the next few mortal decades. But dad had taken care of it and forced him to properly apologize so it was all good they supposed. They hadn’t seen these ‘stars’ for themselves. Not in the way they were intended by Roman at least. They were points of light in the previously pitch black ocean that surrounded the palace. Anywhere else they couldn’t risk letting their blindfold down. They hadn’t seen their dad, or anyone they cared about, mortal or divine, for so long. All because that stupid god didn’t know how to handle rejection… Sure they’d been a little rude. But that damn god was talking shit about their dad! In a sense. Implying that Remy needed to be saved from their dad’s care… That was just so gross to them. Still. Considering they’d still been mortal at the time, they hadn’t been in the position to sass him they way they had. They’d still been working on their big quest to prove themselves worthy. Want-to-be-your-future-spouse-god had suggested becoming their patron instead. Remy lost their temper, and then their ability to look anyone in the eye without causing disaster… They were getting better at controlling the curse though. Still they couldn’t risk accidently looking anyone straight in the eye. Suddenly they heard the sound of their crystal chimes echoing through the halls. A signal that a corporal being had entered the palace. Remy quickly got off the windowsill and lowered their blindfold. They strained their ears and listened. Trying to estimate whether the new presence was dangerous or not. The chimes were his alerting system installed by their dad to help the palace feel safe. Every room had it’s own sound. This sounded like it came from the entry hall. “Hello? Anybody home?” a light, feminine voice called. The visitor sounded nervous. Light footsteps echoed over the floor. Slow and hesitant. “Mx. Remy? God of the Moon? Shepherd of dreams? I ask for an audience!” the voice called. “Upstairs love!” Remy called, deciding they felt good about the sound of this person. Besides, it would be really stupid to try something with them. The footsteps went faster and the chimes told Remy the direction they’d have to turn. They were approaching from the right entrance. And… They were here. “Welcome,” they said with a gesture. “I am Remy, the Lunar child, master of sleep. They/Them. What brings you to my home?” “Ah. Um. Hi,” the voice said nervously. “I’m Stella. She/Her. I um…” They heard her take a deep breath. “I am the first ascended child of Roman, the Rose Prince.” Oh this ought to be good. “I completed my ceremony recently and was granted the realm of stars and tales. So… Um.” Man this woman was nervous. She definitely didn’t inherit her divine father’s audacity. “I guess, that would make me something like… Stella guardian of the stars and keeper of legends or something… Anyway. I was made aware that my dad and Virgil are not on the best of terms. And I heard you and Virgil are kinda close, like he gave you your quest and stuff. So I get that you feel kinda iffy about my dad, and the stars. But… We’ll have to work together somewhat. Sharing the nightsky and stuff and you know, stories inspire dreams and the other way around so… What I’m trying to say…�� Another deep breath… This young goddess was unfairly adorable really. Very disarming. “I say we start with a clean slate. What do you think?” she asked. Jeez she sounded so tense. Luckily Remy excelled at breaking tension. “Babe… Are you holding out your hand? Because you really have to tell me if you do. Cause you know,” they waved their hand in front of their face with an easy smirk. “Oh, oh right,” Stella realized. “So sorry that was dumb… um…” she fretted. “Girl relax. I won’t bite your head off just cause your dad has trouble asking for consent before messing with other people’s stuff. I guess it was high time those things had someone properly looking after them. Nice to meet you Stella,” Remy offered, now extending their hand to her. It was swiftly taken and shook. “Thanks. This means a lot to me,” she said relieved. “No problem. You got a place to stay?” Remy wondered. “Um… Well it would make sense if I like… Lived next door so to speak. But considering the history I figured I’d ask you first,” she laughed awkwardly. Aw, can’t lie sis, I can see myself liking you. Which is saying a lot cause I don’t see myself doing a lot these days,” they jested. Both referring to the fact that they literally were blinded and the fact that even this short conversation made them feel so tired they had to move to the back of the room where a comfortable couch was prepared. There was one in every room in case their fatigue overtook them. “Gotta lie down for a minute babe, hope you don’t mind,” they explained. “Oh of course. Do you need help getting there safely?” Stella offered. “Nah, I know this place like the back of my hand,” they promised as they stepped up the platform that held their little haven of rest. They settled down with a relieved sigh. “…Are you okay? I thought Gods weren’t… We don’t have to sleep. Is it because of your domain…?” Stella wondered. “You don’t have to answer though!” she rushed. Remy chuckled. She was really sweet. “It’s fine. It’s my curse. Can’t look at anyone without making them snooze and can’t go about my day to day without knocking myself out real quick. I haven’t partied properly since before I became a god. Stinks.” They explained casually. “I’m sorry… Do you… Um… Would you like some company while you rest?” Stella offered. “Worried about me babe? So cute,” Remy chuckled teasingly. “Well… Yeah… of course,” Stella answered. Remy thought on that for a minute. “Want to tell me a story?” they asked. Stella chuckled. “Of course,” she said as she settled next to him. “What kind of story?” she wondered. Remy shrugged. “Something I haven’t heard yet. Maybe something about you?” they suggested as they started playing with their hair. “Okay… Want me to braid that for you?” Stella offered. Remy giggled. They hadn’t indulged in girly things for a while. It seemed ill fitting for a grown god. But this was their home. And Stella… Stella seemed like a good potential friend. “Of course,” they nodded as they turned to give her access to their hair. “Okay,” Stella said as they started combing their fingers through Remy’s hair with care. “So… My story starts like most demigod stories start…” Neither gods were aware. But that moment, when the two pale skinned, raven haired divine beings, their robes shining with the lights of their signature celestial bodies, sat together for some ordinary, mortal style bonding, that was the moment when an unbreakable bond was forged. A bond that would guide both young deities through hardships and happiness. Through confusing and wonderful times. That would delight and terrorize the heavens and the mortal plane. That was they night the stars and the moon finally seemed to belong in the same sky.

#submission

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years ago

Photo

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-5: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Behind the glass wall were several blurry figures busying around.

MC: This should be Team A's area.

Mya had suddenly called a few minutes ago to give me directions to the place I was supposed to report to.

I ran what I was going to say to everyone, in the form of an introduction, through my head once more before gently clearing my throat and opening the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Hello everyone, I'm—

Thunk!

The sound of metal heavily hitting the floor cut my words short as the handle of the door completely fell off.

MC: !?

Did I break it? No way! I broke the office's door on my first day here!?

I didn't quite know what to do for a while. One of the figures closest to the door turned slightly around at the noise.

He had a head full of spiky hair, like that of a hedgehog. He didn't spare even a glance at the door handle; instead, his gaze fell directly upon my person. He shot up from the seat of his workstation.

??: Yoooooou!!

MC: Sorry! It wasn't on purpose, I swear!

??: You're the newcomer that's supposed to be coming in today, right? Sister Zheng Lin, we've got an extra hand!

He excitedly yelled at the other end of the office.

This isn't quite turning out like how I imagined it to be...

Summoned by his yell, a plump woman speed-walked towards us. Her smile was friendly, but there was a sort of unconcealable exhaustion marring her features.

Zheng Lin: Hello. Welcome to Team A. I'm the leader, Zheng Lin.

MC: Hello. Um… I accidentally broke your door handle just now… Sorry…

??: Aw, that thing's been dead half a month ago. We just didn't have time to call someone down to fix it. Don't mind it, yeah?

??: C'mere. I'll bring you to your workstation. Your stuff looks pretty heavy. I'll take it for you, yeah?

He enthusiastically takes the office appliances I'd brought in from my hands and continues walking straight ahead.

Zheng Lin: That works too. I'll leave you to bring her around to meet the others then, Brother Mao. I'll come over once I'm finished up here.

I nodded, following after "Brother Mao".

Brother Mao: I'm Mao Ge, but you can call me Brother Mao! The best rock singer among all Designers here!

He grinned, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. He then magicked out a rag from god-knows-where and quickly gave the table a wipedown.

Brother Mao: You were 2nd place in the contest, right? We all watched the broadcast; it was absolutely brilliant.

Brother Mao: Especially when you chose Director Qi of all people. Boy, that was a killer! How did you dare to pick him?

Brother Mao: Forget his face, even his breath alone is an icy sub-zero.

Brother Mao: Ever seen an iron tree bloom? I'd say even that's slightly more common than seeing Director Qi smile.

Brother Mao: I'm not talking about his cold smiles, of course. We see that way too often.

MC: Eh? … I just thought getting him to review my work was a rare chance that I couldn't pass up on.

Brother Mao: You go, girl! Looks like we've finally got a competent person in Team A! Feel free to ask me anything if you face any problems in the future! I've gotcha covered!

He grinned, patting himself on the chest to further emphasize his point. He'd already assembled and laid out all of my office appliances on the table at some point in our conversation.

Brother Mao: Alright, everyone! Put everything down. Let me introduce to you our new buddy, (Y/n)!

All the people around me nodded in greeting as Brother Mao introduced them to me one-by-one.

Brother Mao: The one dressed in a Cheongsam is Li Man'man. She came here a minute earlier than you and braved through 3 interviews just to enter Warson.

Li Man'man: Hi, nice to meet you.

Brother Mao: And that's Chen Che, our team's tailoring genius. He's been here for nearly 4 years and has just been promoted to a Senior Designer.

The guy named Chen Che raised his head from the multitude of fabric surrounding him. He adjusted his glasses and gave me a wary look.

Chen Che: Hello.

It was at this moment in time that a guy sporting a quiff hairdo walked past us. His head was haughtily raised and his expression was one of utter disdain.

Man With Quiff Hairstyle: Hmph.

MC: And he is…?

Brother Mao: Don't mind him. He's an annoyance. He just failed the promotion test and is being the green-eyed monster to everyone right now.

I only nodded, not knowing what to say.

Brother Mao: That one over there's Hao Shuai, the trendsetter of Team A and also the King of Werewolf games.

Hao Shuai: Wanna play Werewolf? I'll host one next time, but not now...

Hao Shuai buried his face with a sullen expression as Brother Mao quietly pulled me aside to a corner.

Brother Mao: He's not been in too jolly of a mood these few days. He didn't manage to get promoted to Senior Designer, so he's been pretty depressed about it.

MC: Sounds like it's very hard to get promoted up a rank...

Brother Mao: Precisely! Although Warson has a rank promotion system in place, the way things are being assessed in them makes it scarily hard! People normally have to do it five or six times before they manage to get themselves promoted.

Brother Mao: And, you might even get demoted a rank if the work you turn in doesn't make the cut!

MC: That strict!?

Brother Mao: I'm a Junior Designer like you. I've already taken the assessment around…

Zheng Lin: 10 times.

Brother Mao: You remember all so well, Sister Zheng Lin.

He gallantly retrieved another chair for Zheng Lin to sit on, seemingly paying no heed to the embarrassing number of tries he'd gone through.

Brother Mao: Don't they say that failure's the mother of success? I just have to get a couple more of those and it'll net me a great success!

I laughed at his joke along with Zheng Lin.

Zheng Lin: Our assessment system is just stricter than others.

Zheng Lin: Even though everyone is free to design whatever they like with their creativity as the limit, becoming an actual Fashion Designer is some serious business.

Zheng Lin: Those capable of joining us here in Warson are all talented individuals. Hence, what's really being tested in those assessments are your passion and perseverance.

Zheng Lin: I've welcomed hundreds upon hundreds of rookies during my 10 years here in Team A, but most of them drop out after failing the assessment 3-4 times.

MC: Eh?

Zheng Lin: Firstly, everyone who first comes here holds high self-esteem, so they're a bit more sensitive to criticism. And it is only natural for people to find it unbearable, especially after having been criticized a lot.

Zheng Lin: Secondly, there's a limit to the type of jobs that can be given to Assistants and Junior Designers, so things often end up being boring and repetitive

Zheng Lin: It's hard to go on like that if you don't have the right sort of determination.

MC: ……

Zheng Lin was about to say more when the door slammed open with a "bang!". Several people stood at the entrance, worry written all over their anxious faces.

Colleague A: Can someone consolidate all of Sliver's Autumn-Winter fabrics into a document?

Colleague A: I still have to go down to the mall and conduct surveys and research so I won't be able to do that in time!

Colleague B: Some trouble cropped up regarding the visas of the foreign models who're slated for a shoot next week, so we need another 18 new ones!

Colleague B: What should I do, Sister Zheng Lin!?

Zheng Lin gave a helpless sigh.

Zheng Lin: I'd originally wanted you to let you get used to things around here, but we have our hands full… Do you mind helping us?

MC: … Sure thing!

Zheng Lin: Then, could you first help us by going to the warehouse and picking up Silver's Autumn-Winter fabrics and consolidating them into a sample book after?

Zheng Lin: You can get Brother Mao to help you check it through once you're done.

I nodded and joined the fray.

Time went by. And finally, I finished my very first task after an hour. Brother Mao told me to take it up to the Team A representative who was in the meeting after checking through it.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was clearly noon soon, yet the doors of the meeting rooms on both sides of the corridor were still tightly shut, I could occasionally hear the sound of loud discussions coming from within.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Excuse me, I'm here to deliver the fabric samples.

Pushing the door open, I saw a Designer who was in the middle of loudly explaining his idea while Sariel held a pen, looking down at the document in his hand.

All the other Designers were either listening intently or hurriedly sketching out their new ideas, having been struck by a sudden wave of inspiration. It was almost as if the very air itself was crackling with ideas, going head to head with each other, gathering and merging into a brand new storm of ideas.

I’m going to be taking part in meetings with everyone in the future too… I couldn’t help but jump for joy at the exciting notion.

Placing the fabric catalogue book down, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one last glance at the meeting room before I left.

❖☆———————————★❖

Brother Mao: Oh, right. Don't forget to retrieve the catalogue book once the meeting upstairs is done.

MC: Okay.

❖☆———————————★❖

Everyone left after the meeting ended. I picked up the scattered pieces of fabric, stacking them neatly into a pile. It was only then that I noticed a pen lying on the ground.

The pitch-black pen was see-through, slender, and sturdy, with three gold-stamped petals at the very end.

MC: This is...

An image of Sariel wielding this pen with his head bowed in thought appeared in my mind.

MC: Is this pen his? It certainly suits that icy countenance of his...

❖☆———————————★❖

I bent down to pick it up, but the moment my fingers brushed against it… I suddenly felt an inexplicable sharp jolt of pain piercing my head.

My heart clenched violently, almost as if a nightmare that had been buried deep within its depths was about to be awakened. The stifling feeling of sadness and despair washed over me together with the odd feeling of my heart having been impaled by something.

What’s going on?

I pressed against my chest, trying to get through this sudden bout of pain that came out of seemingly nowhere.

Sariel: What's going on here?

There seems to be a faint voice ringing through my ears. The pen was taken away from me the next moment. Gone with it were the odd sensations.

I blearily looked at Sariel who had suddenly popped up from nowhere, still slightly woozy in the head.

Sariel: What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?

MC: I don't know what happened to me earlier…

Sariel: That's what I'd like to ask you.

☆Light Choice: Explain what you felt earlier

I shook my head, trying to recall that odd sensation you felt earlier.

MC: I… My chest and head just suddenly started hurting.

MC: I know I’m in the meeting room right now, but it kind of felt as if I wasn’t here at the same time…

MC: Like a nightmare, you can never wake up from…

Sariel’s expression changed minuscule bit upon hearing the word “nightmare”.

Sariel: How about now?

MC: I'm fine now, and the uncomfortable feeling's also gone.

Sariel: Has this happened before?

MC: Once…?

★Night Choice: Conceal what you felt earlier

MC: I just felt a little light-headed… I'm okay now.

MC: Oh, right. I picked up your pen.

I pointed towards the pen that he'd already reclaimed, which was now in his hand. Sariel only frowned.

Sariel: You felt light-headed after picking up this pen?

It was only when he mentioned it that I realized that that seemed to be the case. But what would a pen have anything to do with a bout of dizziness?

Sariel coldly grabs my hand, making my heart stop cold in my chest. However, all he did was stare at it in silence for a few seconds before releasing me just as quickly.

MC: What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with my hand?

Sariel: Nothing. It's well and fine.

What's up with Sariel? Grabbing my hand out of nowhere like that and not even telling me the reason why...

So, I ended up giving my hand a thorough check as well. There was nothing off about it, but I couldn't help feeling a little worried.

I'd also experienced some "auditory hallucinations" back then at the rooftop…

MC: Maybe I should go get myself a check-up at the hospital just in case…

Sariel: You look pretty peppy on your feet to me. Doesn't seem like there's anything physically wrong about you.

His gaze smoothly slides up from my face to the top of my head as he spoke.

Sariel: Though, I can't say the same about the other parts of you.

MC: ……!

I was fuming, yet I didn't dare to express it with a vehement glare. Seeing how riled up I was at it, yet unable to do anything about it, a flicker of a smirk made its way up to a corner of his mouth.

This was my second time seeing him smile today… The iron tree has bloomed…

Sariel: Are there flowers growing on my face?

I shook my head.

Sariel: A ghost then?

I shook my head again.

Sariel: Then why are you looking at me as if you've just seen a monster?

MC: You just smiled. It's too rare of a sight.

Sariel: … How stupid.

He put on a straight face as he pocketed his pen and turned to head out.

Suddenly remembering something, I hurriedly pushed the door open and ran after him.

MC: Wait a minute, Director Qi! Are you free right now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-8)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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prentissinred · 4 years ago

Text

Already Gone pt.2

Special shoutout to @eprcntiss for the nudge to write a part two ☺️

Rated T Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss Word Count: 2k AO3

Part One: Already Gone

Part Two: Love Me Better

Aaron closed the door to the study behind him, pretending he didn't hear that final choked sob. He blinked his own tears back; they had no place on what was supposed to be the second happiest day of his life.

She was leaving.

Some twisted part of him was almost glad. That he no longer had to walk into work and feel like his heart was being slowly carved out of his chest every time she looked at him, every time she got into her own car to return to a home that wasn't theirs. It was unfair to the point of cruelty, having to face the future he had been planning for years, ripped away in the course of an evening...only to return months later, just out of his reach.

He had grieved her, as surely as if she had died on that operating table. Grieved the sight of the diamond he had picked out on her left hand. Grieved the house they'd been eyeing, the one with enough rooms for all the plans they’d made and a yard big enough for the dog they had promised to Jack. Grieved every night of fevered touches under the covers and every night they had been too exhausted to do anything except curl against the warmth of the other.

She had eventually returned, like a phantom coming back to him. Relieved though he was that she was finally safe, there wasn't a moment where he saw her and was not reminded of every deception, every moment she had chosen to tell him that she was fine instead of the truth. Running became the only healthy outlet for the pain. And a few weeks later, it led him to a funny, kind brunette who had him smiling for the first time in over a year.

Beth. He shook himself out of the internal crisis he was having against the wall of Dave's living room. He had to find her, hold her, remind himself why he'd asked her to marry him and why it had felt so right just yesterday. Remind himself of everything good about them. Because she was good — exceedingly so. Because she was not frustrating and complicated and closed-off and asking the worst kinds of questions at the worst possible time. He jogged up the stairs to the master bedroom where she was getting ready with her mother.

“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.” Dave’s voice came up behind him.

He gave his friend a wane smile. "I think we can dispense with the superstitions."

"Say what you will, but I said the same thing at my first, and look how well that turned out." Aaron could only chuckle dryly in response.

Dave clapped his arm. “Nervous?”

"A little." He hadn't been. In fact, he’d been filled with certainty at the start of the evening. He tried not to think too much about why that had changed. I loved you. I love you.

"I saw Emily left.” Dave’s voice was pointedly relaxed.

"Oh?"

"Tonight can't have been easy for her." I love you.

"I suppose."

"Mmm. Anyway, I think Beth's just about ready." Dave placed a guiding hand on his shoulder. "We should head down, get this show on the road." Aaron let himself be led down the stairs, glancing back just once at the door that hid his soon-to-be wife from view.

He stood underneath the decorated archway, next to his beaming son, and faced his team, all looking at him with encouraging smiles. He tried to return them, despite the knot that was steadily growing in his stomach. The music started, a lilting, romantic track, as the crowd turned to face the house. Beth emerged, lovely in her strapless gown, carrying a simple bouquet of white roses, walking towards him on her mother's arm.

And maybe it would have been different if he had spoken to her upstairs. Or if he had never walked into Dave's study in the first place. But as Beth took her first step onto the aisle, Aaron knew with an absolute, terrifying clarity that he couldn’t go through with this. That this moment he had been picturing for so long was missing a woman who was currently making plans to leave the country.

Before he could talk himself over to the side of propriety, he walked up the aisle. The music cut off abruptly, and there was a ripple of whispers from his guests. By the time he reached her, pieces of his heart chipped away at the sight of her confused face. He held her hand in both of his and pleaded, "I need to talk to you."

She listened to his insufficient explanation, the tears welling her eyes the only reflection of the hurt he was causing her. He told her that she was beautiful and wonderful and he did love her and she had made him so happy and yesterday there hadn't been a doubt in his mind when he asked her to be his wife. She let him ramble for a while, eventually shutting him up with a cupped hand to his face. Lips pressed lightly against his cheek, then in a voice infinitely kinder than he deserved, she let him go. "I hope you get her back."

And that was it. He stood there, watching her head back up the stairs, and silently wished her every happiness with someone worthy of her.

With a deep breath and a brush over his face to clear any lingering tears, he exited the house with renewed determination to find a huddled group of guests. The only outlier was Beth's mother, who stared at him in consternation before following her daughter into the house without another word to him. At the movement, his team turned towards him, a mixture of confusion and shock on their faces — or, in the case of Dave, an enigmatic smile.

"JJ," Aaron called out.

She approached him, frown lines etched into her forehead and brows. "Aaron, what's going on? Is everything okay?"

"I need your help, please. The address to Emily's new apartment."

Understanding smoothed her features and she gave him a wide grin as she entered the address into his phone. "Oh, and would you mind watching Jack for a little while?"

"Even better, why don't Jack and Henry have a sleepover tonight? What do you say, boys?" JJ presented her plans animatedly to the two boys who had appeared by their feet. Aaron bent down to tell his son that he would explain everything tomorrow, but his words fell on already distracted ears. He thanked her and made his way to his car, the eyes of his friends on his back reminding him that this was his last chance to bring her home.

Her apartment was tucked away in a nondescript brick mid-rise. A far cry from the lush DC duplex he had spent countless nights in. She opened the door on his second knock. Dressed down in shorts and a loose shirt that hung off her shoulder, makeup-free with her curled hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looked as beautiful as she had a few hours ago. Every impassioned word he had rehearsed on his way over landed dead on his tongue, and instead, his first words to her were a brusque, "Can I come in?"

"What the hell are you doing here?"

He didn't reply, pressing past her into an apartment he had never entered before. Sparse, only the bare essentials, cardboard boxes stacked in the corner. Nothing more than a passing stop, a sign that she had never really come back to them.

"You told me you love me. Was that the truth?" He stood in the center of her small living room, arms crossed over his chest, his tone more biting than he had planned.

She gaped at him, ignoring the question. "Seriously, Aaron, what the fuck are you doing here?"

He forged on, pacing small steps next to the couch, glancing up at her every few seconds. "It destroyed me, you know. Seeing your credentials open in your desk because you had run. Sitting by your fucking hospital bed because I was too late to save you. Listening to you tell me that you didn’t want to marry me. Everything we had talked about, all the plans we had, just...gone."

“Aaron. I told you, I had to." Her voice broke, but her eyes stayed dry. Aaron wondered if the two of them had shed enough tears over the other to last a lifetime. "I had to—“

“Protect me. I know. But, god, Em." He gestured between them. "We’re supposed to be a team. We work through everything, even the ugly stuff, together. You were supposed to trust that I would be there for you. Not run away, and nearly get yourself killed in the process.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is. It is exactly that simple.”

“No.” Her voice was sharp and resolute. “It isn’t. It was my fight. My past, my mistakes. If you, any of you, had gotten hurt because of that, I could have never lived with myself. You can't tell me you don't understand that."

Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose and decided to cede this particular battle. Maddening, stubborn woman.

“Fine. I accept.”

“What?”

"I accept that you did what you had to do. That you thought you had to handle it alone. I accept why you left then." He stepped closer to her and she unconsciously took a step back, nearly flush with her front door. "But why are you leaving now?"

"This again..." she sighed wearily. "Aaron, I told you. I can't stay here anymore."

"And why is that?"

He watched her nostrils flare in indignation. "Fuck, because I can't! I can't pretend anymore, I won't do it. I came back expecting my life to go back to normal. Except it isn't normal. It isn’t even my life anymore. I'm like a fucking spectator, watching everyone move on while I can’t. "

The implication — accusation — was clear, and the guilt struck hard and low in his gut. Her only mistake was thinking that he had ever really moved on.

"I'm sorry," his voice shifted to quiet contriteness. "I'm sorry for not being there when you needed me. It hurt too much to be around you. And you seemed...okay. So I convinced myself you were."

She said nothing for a while, her arms wrapping around her middle defensively. "It's okay. It wasn't your job to take care of me. You've already done more—"

"Emily, why don't you get it?" The frustration pierced through once more, coming out more desperate than anything else.

"Get what?!" she rose to his pitch.

"You're supposed to depend on me. We’re supposed to depend on each other. I know you're strong, you're so fucking strong sweetheart, but I get to take care of you sometimes too. Fuck, how are we supposed to spend the rest of our lives together if you can’t trust me enough to do that?”

She sucked in a sharp breath and her entire body, even the air around them, shifted. “Spend the rest of our lives together?”

“Of course. I thought that was fairly obvious.”

She glared at him. “It really wasn't."

“Oh. My apologies.” He stepped closer to her. “Consider this your notice then.”

He caught the way her lips turned up for a split second before she remembered herself, wanting to hold onto her heated temper for a little longer. “Where’s Beth?”

“At home, I suspect.”

“I already told Easter I’d take the job.” Her voice was just a whisper now, devoid of almost all conviction.

“What, like 2 hours ago? Call him back, Emily.”

He was looming over her, barely an inch of space between them, their eyes locked onto each other. It was a different kind of battle, the kind where victory only came when neither side backed down.

Finally — “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay, I'll call him back."

There wasn't an adequate word to describe the relief he felt at those five words. Every inch of him ached to touch her, but he held onto his patience for a few more seconds, bending his head towards her and whispering, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Her eyes were closed in anticipation. "What question?" she breathed.

"Were you telling me the truth? When you said you love me?"

"Don't be an idiot. Of course I was." And she pushed up on her toes and closed the gap between them.

It felt like coming home. There were still discussions to be had and arguments to be fought as they re-learned and re-trusted. But, for now, the familiar taste of her warmed every particle in his body until he was practically vibrating with want. It was desperate and urgent, their lips and teeth and tongues clashing and biting and invading. His hands roamed the entirety of her, a need to ensure that she was really here this time. She clung to him just as tightly, pressing into him until he could feel her heart hammering away in her chest.

When they pulled apart, both gasping for the air that had escaped their lungs, he touched his forehead to hers. "In case this wasn't obvious either...I’ve never stopped loving you."

#Already Gone #Hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #it was physically impossible not to give these two a happy ending

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