#too many incoherent thoughts for any more tags | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azullumi · 11 months ago

Text

"my love, mine, all mine" ; aventurine

summary — to say the two of you were ‘in love’ was something too vague and weak to fully express how you hold each other.

pairing — aventurine (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — established relationship, dual pov (his before yours), all soft and yearning and love, mix of the holy trinity (fluff, angst, and comfort), love is such a weak word and adoration is never enough, metaphors (u know me), not proofread, 1.5k words ; one-shot

tagging — @toorurs !! surprise ?

note — ichiko aoba was my inspiration for this one. anwss sleep took me out three times while i was writing this so it took me some time to finish. this is both day 4 and 5 of writing for him.

aventurine begins to notice the subtlety and learns to love the little things that make up your being.

like how you knit your eyebrows and bite the end of your pen, if not your nails, whenever you are too focused on something to the point that it’s getting you frustrated and how you would often pace the room while in deep thought because it helps keeps your mind running. he, too, takes notice on how you would arrange things in a specific order because it makes you feel satisfied and although he never really understood it all, something in the way you beam with such light reminds him of sunrise and makes his chest swell with warmth.

(you have never told him any of those things but he has eyes that follow you everywhere and threaten blindness when you are out of his sight.)

there are moments where you sleep that you’ll hum and say incoherent words, and oftentimes, he could make out his name in between your mumbles; the thought that you dream of him too comforts him. and perhaps you’ll never know but whenever you’re half-asleep, you’ll cuddle whichever is closest to you and he has to move your hands so that you’ll embrace him instead of the pillow by your side—it’s a secret that he will take to his grave.

or when you’re nervous or agitated, you would resort to biting your lip and fidgeting with your hands—oftentimes you play with your bracelet or the cuffs of your sleeves—and he holds the responsibility of diverting your attention to somewhere else; his voice, like a lull, soothes the storm that forms in your thoughts.

“do you think i can do it?” your voice breaks out into that of the nervous waters, hands shaking as the anxiety settles into your tense shoulders. the feathers of uneasiness sheds into the crevices of your mind as you think of the upcoming event that looms over your being.

“i’m sure you can.” he says and the softness of his tone soothes the unquiet thoughts that spill out of your mouth. he looks at you with a certain light in his eyes (his gaze would tug at the hem of your shirt with the fists of a child that has never known misery).

“it’s scary…” you groan, form crumbling and you bite into your lip, an unintentional habit that you do when everything seems to become so overwhelming. “what if i make a fool out of myself? what if i mess up and make a mistake?”

“there’s no need to let these worries weigh on your mind. you’re capable of doing more so you don’t have to think so little of yourself.” he wasn’t exactly the best at comforting but he tries, hoping that his words would be able to ease you of your burden. “you’ve done this many times, remember? and every single time, you succeed. even then, it’s never about making a fool out of yourself but how you were so courageous and lovely.”

aventurine takes hold of your trembling hands into his and his thumb begins to draw circles on the skin near your knuckles. silence draws between you two and he notices your breathing coming into a steady; expression becoming soft with no lingering trace of worry that bites into your lip.

“you know, i didn’t think you had the knack for comforting.”

“i try.” only for you, he does.

he likes the way the light spills into your form as you sleep, likes the mess you leave behind as your presence lingers in his home—leave the scent of your cologne in his shirt and forget your scarf behind so you can have a reason to come back—, likes the sweetness of your lips as you kiss him and he prays that he’ll taste just as much.

(“you taste like candy and forgiveness.”)

aventurine could list out all of the little things he adores about you and he picks up these subtle nuances then carves it into his hands to call his own; he began to engrave your form in his mind that his thoughts would form into an image of you, he learned how to spell out your name in his dreams in hopes that his voice will reach you in yours, he started to memorize the lines in your palm so that he’ll remember how your hand feels.

how does he tell you that the reason he falls into tragedy and a melancholic state is because he loves you and the words are never enough to tell you how he feels? he tries to in different ways, in the manner of his actions and the way he speaks of you. whenever he holds your hand, he squeezes yours three times to silently say ‘i love you’ even if you’ll never know nor understand the meaning behind his gestures—you’ll never be able to read the words he paints into your skin because you were too busy looking at his.

he never knew what it was like to have something—or someone—to call his own until he stumbled upon your soul. he will desire and look for you like a thirsty man who longs for water, like the shore who dreams to drown in the ocean but could only feel waves of its caress, like a lost child who seeks for their mother’s cradle, like a sunflower who only knew the light of the sun (he’ll search for you in everyone else for the rest of his life and he hopes he’ll never find you).

he thinks he likes you too much, it might be his demise.

aventurine often reminds you of the sun.

it wasn’t about the way he dressed or the way he held himself—so radiant and brilliant as he wears those sparkling jewelry and watch, as he puts on his expensive coats over his tailored shirts and pants—but he was warm in a way that it reminds you of cold mornings and the soft raw comfort that you feel under the blanket with him, he was bright in a way of a sole candle in the dark that guides you back to the light, where you’re supposed to be.

(a burst of sunlight would spill into every room that he walks into and you wouldn’t mind coming close to him even if it will end up burning your wings.)

but sometimes you see him in the reflection of the river as it runs along the rocks and you’ll think of how spring would be so nice if he’s beside you watching the flowers bloom. you see him in the wind that caresses your hair as you walk through the field and you’ll remember how he used to embrace you during winter, stealing all of the warmth that is left of your body as he intertwined his cold hands into your own—you’ll push him away, only lightly, as he holds you closer and snuggles his face into your neck but you never want him to leave; you could never bear the thought of watching his back as he walks away from you.

you see him everywhere, in the morning that you wake up to, the noon that you drag yourself through, and the night that you sleep into. you wouldn’t know what to do if his light would die out, leaving you in the frigid darkness without his presence. you wouldn’t know what to do if his eyes would stop holding your fingers with the neediness of a child who has never known death and cruelty.

“don’t go where i can’t follow.” you’ll let him bring you anywhere—even if it's far from the familiarity of your home, far from the people you love, far from the places you’ve known, as long as he stays with you. you’ll walk with him into the danger and through hell, you’ll accompany him in the rain and the wind, but you will not let him go where you can’t follow. you will never cross the line if it means you’re leaving him behind; you’ll rather let the abyss swallow you just so you could be with him.

“never leave me behind.” you’ll whisper to nothingness.

the simplicity and your adoration for him was the finest feature that composes the puzzle of your soul. there wasn’t a single thing that he’ll do to make you hate him, there was nothing he can do to make you despise him. and perhaps, it may become destructive and pathetic but you’ll do anything for him and he doesn’t have to use the word ‘please’, nor would he have to beg for anything from you; he asked you to call him handsome and you compared him to the stars—and the stars and their glory was never enough in comparison to his shadow.

(you’ll taste his flesh with only gentle hands and soft mouth even if you’ll still be left starving and desiring for more—to say you love him was never enough.)

you like him too much, the affection would spill from your hands and you’ll pick them up with your teeth.

notice how there's no dialogue from aventurine in reader's pov? yeah.

1K notes · View notes

cherishedhope · 7 months ago

Text

Dormleaders Reacting to Their Fanbase.

Genre: Crack?? I think it's crack. Not sure. Characters involved: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus. Synopsis: How I think they would react to having so many fans, fanfictions, etc. A/N: I made this a little short. Sorry. :( anyway enjoy!! <3 Disclaimer: This is solely for entertainment purposes only. No hate to any of the ships mentioned!! Characters could potentially be ooc. Mentions of NSFW content but there isn’t actually any in the post. NOT proofread. A/N 2: Malleus’s part was inspired by a convo I had w @moonswolfie . Go follow her. Her twst stories are just- *chefs kiss* Requests: Open!

————————————————————

— He's a bit shocked that he has a whole ass fanbase. Like-?? What?? I mean, yeah, he's well-known around the school but not for good reasons. But to know that he has thousands of people who actually enjoy are obsessed with him is pretty flattering.

— Ace and Deuce are also just as surprised if not more so. Probably even questioning the tastes of the people in our world.

— Appalled when he sees a bunch of posts dissing his mom. (does find it comforting knowing all of them are on his side and seriously questions his upbringing.)

— Turns into a tomato at an impossible rate of two seconds when he sees that a LOT of people are shipping him with Trey. A bunch of screaming and incoherent stuttering. I don’t think he has ever thought of Trey as more than a friend before. (Ace is dying in the background.) — Cater has already warned him of the nsfw tags so Riddle steers FAR FAR FAR away from it. His brain is already having trouble processing that he has people that ADORE everything about him. He can’t handle reading himself being intimate with hundreds of people. He does read a fluffy fic or two.

— I feel like he would take notes of how he acts in the fanfictions so he can apply fanfic Riddle’s actions to himself.

— Art? People make art of him? — Feels a sense of pride when he looks at the drawings people make of him. He’s flattered!

— Flustered as hell, but also super happy about it. Whenever he feels down he’ll think about all the people that like him and he starts feeling a lot better. :)

— THIS COCKY MF

— HE IS SO SMUG ABOUT IT

— Considers building an entire empire of his own with you guys as his loyal, devoted subjects. Then ultimately decides not to because that’s too much work and not enough time for sleep. (Then again, we would probably understand. You guys wouldn’t dare question HIM, right??)

— Definitely rubs it in Malleus’s face the first chance he gets.

— He is watching every single edit of himself he can find. Y’all don’t understand how big of a stroke this is to his ego. His head?? It's bigger than a hot air balloon at this point. Who wouldn’t react that way if someone made edits of them? It is a huge ego boost!

— Finally, after so long, he isn’t referred to as “Falena’s brother.” No. He is Leona Kingscholar. People like HIM. Hell, he could start an entire army with all the fans he has!

— Nothing can ruin his day.

— …..

— Physically recoils when he sees the Malleus x Leona tag. Powers off his phone and then throws it against the wall. He has never been more disgusted and disappointed in all of his life.

— he still likes you guys!! dw. Just give him a couple minutes hours and maybe he’ll get over it.

— What?

— Sorry, yeah, no, he isn’t believing any of you. There is NO way people would willingly sign up for one of his contracts and enjoy it.

— Once he finally snaps out of Denial River, he is still in disbelief. That quickly gives way to him scheming and plotting on how to use this to his advantage.

— Is a customer acting rowdy after signing one of his deals? Trying to sue him over it? Well, now he has thousands of witnesses to back him up. No one can touch him now. He is the most powerful of all!

— Someone tries to attack him? Tweels, release the hounds.

— He is UNTOUCHABLE

— He's too shy to read the fanfics. And he doesn’t wanna look at the edits of himself either. It makes him cringe inside. Not because of them being made. No, the people creating them have great talent. But the reason is because it's him. — He gets curious after a while and does take a look at one edit. JUST ONE!

— And now he's hiding out in his octopot scrolling through as many as he can find. He cries seeing all the love he gets.

— He prints out some of the fanart and hangs it up in his room.

— Whenever he feels self conscious he looks at the edits and then he’s all smiles and as confident as ever.

— FANS?? HIM??

— EEEE!!!!

— :DDDD

— NO WAY!!!!!!!!!!!!

— SCREAMING! JUMPING ALL OVER THE ROOM! SO MANY FRIENDS! KICKING HIS FEET AND GIGGLING! He wants to meet all of you!

— Feels obligated to read every fanfiction, like every fanart, watch every edit. Not because he wants to make himself feel good about it, but because he wants to see how talented you guys are! And he is not disappointed.

— Gets really sad when he realizes that he can't talk to any of you guys.

— :(

— JamiKali? What’s JamiKali? What's a ship??

— Nsfw?? What does that mean?

— It doesn’t take long for Jamil to take his phone away. He probably even puts restrictions on it so Kalim doesn’t get exposed to the more inappropriate side of his fanbase.

— He does not care.

— Flattered, sure, but not as excited as the others are. Yeah, it's surprising that people still worship the ground he walks on even in another world, but not too shocking.

— He scrolls through a bunch of fan arts and criticizes them. If it doesn't resemble him perfectly then he doesn’t care for it.

— Unironically calls you guys his “adoring” fans.

— Doesn’t even look at the fanfics. He already knows that he'll see things that aren't accurate to his character. (little does he know, a lot of people write him pretty well 😭)

— REFUSES to look at the ships. He doesn’t want to see people shipping him with Neige. He already deals with it from the fans in his world so he doesn’t want to see it in another.

— Most of his reaction to this is basically “um yeah, obviously I have a fanbase. 🙄”

— Like Azul, he also does not believe it. Him?? Why would someone as insignificant as him have a fanbase? You guys must have gotten knocked on the head or something when you were younger.

— Dies and ascends to heaven once he sees that people make fanfics/art/edits of him. HE IS EXPLODING WITH HAPPINESS. Holes himself up in his room and binges e v e r y t h i n g. He makes a collage of all his favorite fanarts and uses it as his wallpaper.

— Dies again when he finds out there are figurines of him. And plushies. And rings. And and and and.

— I think his favorite out of all of this would be the fanart. Have you guys seen Ignihyde stans?? Their art is literally gorgeous omksn

— His hair instantly transforms into pink flames when he spots the ships. Him with Azul? Him with Lilia?? Him with Silver?

— Considers each and every ship he sees. I doubt he can look the other person in the eye for a while.

— His self-esteem grows a lot bit so consider that a job well done for being an Idia stan 👍

— What is a fanbase?

— The only thing this man is going to understand is the art part of everything. He’s probably used to having his portrait done in Briar Valley, so that is the only thing his mind can figure out.

— Other than that, what is a “fan fic”? What is the point of moving pictures of him with upbeat music? A ship? Why do people keep saying he's in a ship with some random person from NRC? He is clearly on the ground by himself.

— After Lilia spends the next three hours explaining everything to clueless dragon boy, Malleus finally slightly understands what the internet is. (He still doesn’t understand ships.)

— So many new additions to the gargoyle club!! On the outside he appears calm and neutral but internally he is ecstatic and doing what humans call “running around the room screaming and crying.” There are so many humans that are interested in him droning on about gargoyles! Some even want to participate in the conversation!

— Sebek is in the background complimenting all of you for having good taste and following the young master.

— He's touched by the fact that so many humans are like Yuu and don’t find him intimidating at all and even look up to him as a father figure :) (Lilia failed to tell Malleus about what the “daddy” comments truly entail. )

— He does not care that you guys are in another world. He is gonna find a way to get into contact w y’all. He is NOT letting this many friends go to waste. 😤😤

700 notes · View notes

snazzynacho · 22 days ago

Text

— Sick Side

Part 2/? Part 1 Read on ao3. Masterlist Words: 7k

Emperor Geta x female oc (x Caracalla (one-sided)

Warnings/tags: 18+ Mentions of STD, mental illness, disease, Forced proximity, forced kissing, referenced/implied past sexual abuse, violent urges, obsessive thoughts, delusions of a disordered mind. No non-con s3x, but it's close. She/her pronouns used. Slight canon divergence. OC is a bit naive and way too nice. Tags may change.

Florentia stumbles through the hallways, blinded by her tears and her own panic. Her legs carry her towards the place where she feels most secure, Geta’s room.

The imperial residence feels like a maze to her in her current state, the corridors twist and turn in meaningless patterns. But she knows the way, her feet instinctually carry her towards the path she has taken many times before.

Panting, she finally reaches the door. Its peaceful silence comforts her after the events of today. She shuts the door behind her. Allowing herself be taken by the feeling of being alone and safe, she leans against the door, a wave of relief washes over her as she is in the familiar surroundings of her beloved’s room. She concludes Geta must not be here since he would have noticed her by now. Damn, imperial duties.

Though, she imagines the prospect of him seeing her in this state and the questions that would follow, so maybe this is a good idea, that he is not here right this moment.

With a shuddering sigh, her body sinks to the floor. Her head drops into her hands and she lets out a sob. Tears roll down her rosy cheeks, staining her stola. She pulls her knees to her chest, making herself as small as possible. But, then, the memories come flooding back…The unwanted and unwelcome sensation of Caracalla’s lips on hers, her own panicked reaction, and the way she fled. The image of Caracalla's face when he looked at her—stunned, confused, hurt—is forever burned into her mind. Despite Florentia’s own frenzy, she feels a sharp pang of guilt in her gut. She has never expected to be the cause of such hurt, especially to him, and it stings more than anything.

She has left Caracalla alone without any explanation, leaving him to brood over what happened between them. She knows he must be confused, hurt, and definitely angry. He will no doubt come looking for her, demanding answers. The thought both frightens and comforts her. She also cannot help but wonder how his own disease is betraying him once again as he tries to wrap his head around what happened. This is not to say she will pretend his non-consensual kiss never happened, or never hold him accountable. But she cannot help always having a soft spot for him. Dealing with such a disease with no cure must be awful and incoherent.

Regardless, for now, she needs time to process her own feelings. She needs to calm her racing heart, steady her breathing, and put some distance between herself and the events of the past few minutes. It all happened so quickly. Frighteningly quickly.

Closing her eyes, she tries to force out the image of Caracalla's dismayed expression, to shut out the memory of his lips on hers. As her thoughts continue to swirl around her head, she gradually becomes aware of another noise, besides her own heavy breathing—the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside.

She freezes, her heart rate immediately picking up. Part of her wants to hope that it is one of the servants, or guards, or even Geta, but the more realistic side of her knows it is likely Caracalla, searching for her.

The footsteps pause outside the door, and a familiar voice called out softly, "Florentia...?" Caracalla's voice is muffled through the door but unmistakable.

From the door behind her, she hears the door handle turn. She jumps up on her feet at the sound, out of the way of the incoming opening door, and sees his shadow peeking in from under it. Bracing herself for Caracalla and his unpredictable mood, her eyes seem to shut in anticipation. The door swings open. He stands in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room before landing on her.

He does not speak, merely looks at her. His expression is one of confusion, anger, and a strange undercurrent of hurt. He takes a step towards her, his eyes never leaving her form. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, the knuckles white. His frame is tense as if he is barely holding back a storm of emotions.

He looks dangerous, volatile. She suddenly feels very small under his gaze. This situation is all too sickeningly familiar to her. She wipes her cold tears on the back of her hand, attempting to compose herself.

This is when he notices the streaks of tears on her cheeks, the redness of her eyes…It softens him for a moment, but his confusion and hurt quickly win out over his concern. "Why did you run?" he asks, his voice rough.

Florentia opens her mouth to speak but fails to utter a single word.

His face darkens further at her silence. He takes another step towards her, the distance between them closing slowly.

"You ran away from me," he repeats, his tone hardening again. "Why?" His eyes bore into hers, searching for some answer, some explanation.

She gulps and her eyes look away from him.

He does not like this. He does not like that she is avoiding his gaze. He moves closer still, his movements almost predatory.

"Look at me," he growls, his voice low and commanding.

She warily obliges, meeting his blue eyes she is starting to not recognise. He closes the last remaining distance between them, standing so close that she can feel the heat radiating from his body. He lifts his hand, as if to touch her face, but pauses just millimetres from her skin, his hand frozen in mid-air, almost reminiscent of a marble sculpture.

He studies her, his eyes wandering over her face, noting every detail. The redness in her eyes, the tear stains on her cheeks, the way her lips are slightly parted. “Why did you run?" he asks for the third time, his voice gentler now, but still edged with irritation.

His hand still hovers next to her face, the urge to touch her is obvious but held in check. He cannot understand why she fled, why she looks at him now with a mixture of fear and...something else.

“Because…you don’t deserve me,” she says so quietly he can hardly hear.

His eyes widen at her words, and his brows crease, her response is unexpected. “What do you mean 'I don't deserve you'?" he demands, his voice rising again. "I am Emperor. I can have anything and anyone I want. So why do I not ‘deserve' you?"

“Because I do not love you!” Florentia’s voice is abruptly loud, frustration pouring out of her.

The words hit him like a bodily attack. His hand falls back to his side, all thought of touching her now disappearing in the wake of her declaration. His face darkens, bitterness and ache fighting for dominance on his features. But it's the hint of vulnerability in his eyes that gives him away.

She turns, leaning the side of her body against the wall, in fear her emotions will make her collapse. She gasps a sob, covering her mouth with her hand. He stands there, stuck, staring at her back as she leans against the wall. The sight of her weeping form, the sound of her stifled sob—it hits him like a punch to the gut. He wants to reach out, to comfort her, to force her to take back the words...but he cannot. He is too stunned, too hurt. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms, anchoring himself in the pain.

His mind is filled with a whirlwind of established emotions and a new, undesirable feeling: fear. Fear that maybe she is correct, that maybe he really does not deserve her. Instead, he forces himself to speak, his voice taut, “You…you do not love me?”

Florentia sobs even harder at his words. She tries to understand his disease. Is he asking this to taunt her or does he not remember or understand exactly what she was saying earlier?

He frowns, his mind whirling. Each one of her sobs are akin to a dagger to his heart. But he is still too confused to know how to react. He tries to make sense of her words, but his thoughts are like slippery eels, escaping his grasp.

“You do not love me," he repeats again, his words are more of a statement than a question now.

He wants to know why.

Why does she not love me?

Why does she not want me?

“I do, Caracalla. I do.” Florentia takes a deep breath. “But not romantically. You are my brother-in-law!”

His frown deepens further. He shakes his head, as if trying to clear the fog that is clouding his mind. “No," he murmurs, shaking his head again. “No, you...you love me, I know it..." His words are more a plea than a statement. He's struggling now, his mind trying to reconcile his memories with her words. “That is why you are always with me! He is never around! He does not care about you like I do!” his words are a disjointed mess again.

“That is because Geta is participating in his imperial duties!” she cries, waving her arms in frustration. She then mutters under her breath, “Unlike you,”

He stands there squirming, face contorting, like a petulant child.

“I love Geta. I am promised to him. In a week, I will be married to him. The man I love.” she continues, looking him dead in the eyes.

Each word lands like a hammer blow. He wants to deny it, to argue with her, but deep down he knows she is telling the truth. He feels his world crumbling around him. The woman he loves, the woman he believes loved him too, is going to be married to his brother.

The thought makes him feel nauseous.

He steps back, needing space suddenly. His eyes search the room, looking anywhere but at her. He finds himself staring at a vase of flowers on a table by the wall. Such an ordinary thing, yet it seems so foreign to him in this moment of chaos. He fixates on the petals, the delicate shape, the colour. Purple, the same colour as Florentia’s stola.

His stomach flips. Why must everything remind me of Florentia?

He reaches out, absently runs his finger along a petal of one of the flowers, his touch gentle, almost respectful. But the moment his finger brushes against the delicate bloom, the fragile petal crumbles, floating to the ground like a sigh. He stares down at the petal, his mind and heart in unrest. The sight is too much of a metaphor. His own world, his own heart, also in shards around him.

“I do not mean to hurt you, Caracalla. I wish I did love you, then it would make this so easy.” She speaks after a beat, thinking he has calmed down a little but he looks up at her then, his eyes meeting hers for the first time since her confession. Her words have struck a nerve, stirring his anger and his wounded pride.

“You wished you loved me? How generous of you,” he replies, his voice laced bitterly with sarcasm. "It is the fact that you do not love me that hurts, do you not understand that?"

“I am sorry,” she says just above a whisper, looking down in shame.

He scoffs, the gesture an expression of mockery. “Sorry," he repeats, his face showing true disdain. “You are sorry. Is that supposed to make it better? Is that supposed to erase the fact that you are marrying my brother and not me? That you are going to be wed to him, bear his children, share his bed...not mine."

“Please, stop—” she begs, covering her ears with shaking hands.

“NO!” he roars, his voice rising in volume and in anger. "I will not stop! I want to hear you say it! Say you don't love me! Say you want my brother! Say it to my face!”

Florentia gapes at him, pure fear and shock coursing through her body.

”SAY IT!" he yells again, his face reddening against his poxy skin, veins standing out on his neck as his anger reaches its peak.

His breath comes in ragged gasps, his body tense. He towers over her, his presence filling the room, his anger making the air crackle with tension. He waits for her to speak, to confirm his worst fears. The waiting is torture.

“I already have!” her fists clench at her sides. “And in a week, you will have front-row seats!”

His eyes narrow at her words. Her newfound venom and the image they conjure causes a renewed wave of rage to surge through him. But instead of blowing up in anger, his weak body crumbles to the floor. "Front row seats to my own heart being shredded," he grumbles, his tone bitter. "You think I want to see you marry Geta? You think I can watch you vow to him, and not feel myself being gutted alive?"

“Well, that is how I feel at the thought of not being with Geta.” her patience is wearing thin again.

Once again, her words are like a dagger to his heart. His face contorts, the pain blatant. "You...you fail to understand," he stammers. "You... you have no idea how I feel. How much I've...I have always wanted...you..."

His eyes become wet, and his voice trails off. He lets out a frustrated growl, running a hand through his wild red hair. He starts rocking back and forth, hitting himself on his head, the anger and helplessness in his body needing an outlet. "You think it is easy for me? Seeing you, wanting you, and having my own brother claim you as his? You think that does not drive me mad with jealousy?"

She hesitates. She wants to stop him from hurting himself but is afraid of triggering him further. Ultimately, her good nature overalls her fears and she places her hands on top of his thrashing ones. “I see the storm in your eyes, and I am sorry I cannot take that away. That is why I tried to speak with you earlier. I thought I could break it to you gently…but it seems you are more in love with me than I initially thought.” she tries to explain gently.

"More in love with you than you thought?" he sneers, shoving her hands away, tears streaming down his face as he looks up at her. "You have no idea what sort of effect you have on me! I am...I am completely obsessed with you. I think about you day and night. I dream about you, fantasize about you... and yet, I can never have you. You belong to Geta, and it is maddening!"

His confession is an admittance. An obsession, not love, she thinks.

“You will find your love one day! I am not that person, Caracalla. You will miss them if you keep thinking of me!”

“No one else compares to you!" he protests, his voice ragged with desperation. "You think I have not tried? I have! I have tried to forget you, to find someone else to take your place. But it is no use. No one else can fill the void you have left behind. You have ruined me, Florentia. You have utterly ruined me."

“Your time with concubines does not count, Caracalla,” her voice is curt before her compassion returns, undeserved or not. “I do not want this for you. Is that not enough?! To break the spell, whatever this is- I do not know what to do!” she says. She wants to call what he has an obsession, like he did, but if she does, will he grow furious again?

"Then do something!" he nearly shouts, his frustration nearing its breaking point. "Just... just do something. Anything! I cannot keep living like this, tormented by your presence, your beauty, that I cannot have you. I would rather you hate me, despise me, than see you with Geta. That thought alone burns me to the core."

“I cannot hate you! I want us to be friends!” she sobs again, wanting the old Caracalla back. “I hate seeing you like this”

“Be friends?" he echoes, a resentful laugh escaping him. "Be friends, when all I want is to hold you, to touch you, to have you to myself? Be friends when the mere thought of you married to my brother makes me want to tear my hair out? Be friends when every fibre of my being aches for you and only you?"

“And what if this is how Geta will feel if we wed?! Do you not care about how he feels? About how I feel?”

“Of course I care about how you feel! I... I just..." He falters, voice pointed, dodging the question surrounding Geta’s feelings. The thought of his brother marrying her, being the one to hold her, to kiss her...it is too painful.

"I just... I cannot bear the thought of you with him. I cannot bear the thought of him touching you, holding you, the way I want to—” He rambles on, anxiously biting his fingernails.

As if an Angel comes to the rescue, Dondas—his pet monkey—appears at the doorway, small and fragile looking, searching for Caracalla.

Caracalla glances at the monkey, sensing his presence, a brief distraction from the emotional storm raging within him. “Dondas?” he murmurs, a hint of tenderness in his voice. He rolls onto his knees, reaching out for his friend. The animal hops onto his outstretched arm, climbing up and onto his shoulder as he stands back up again. Caracalla pats the monkey's head affectionately, his focus has momentarily shifted from Florentia to the small animal and she feels she can finally take a breath she does not know she has been holding.

She eyes the fragile man before him, seemingly calming down with his monkey. He does not notice her stare, too engrossed by the monkey’s nuzzling in the crook of his neck, chattering softly, clearly sensing his master’s distress. Caracalla responds by stroking its fur, his fingers brushing the monkey’s fur with gentle rhythmic motions, as he coos softly to it. “There your are…my good little monkey,”

He continues to murmur softly to it, his words gentle and soothing. The tension in his body seems to have eased he interacts with the animal, his full focus on the innocent creature providing a temporary diversion from his erratic emotions. Dondas chitters contentedly, seemingly calmed by his presence.

Florentia cannot help but watch in awe at how Dondas can subdue Caracalla even at, what she has witnessed so far, his worse. After a few minutes, Caracalla finally looks up and notices Florentia watching him, his demeanor still visibly softer than before.

He meets her gaze for a moment, his eyes still tinged with lingering turbulence. He does not say anything at first, his mind sorting through the disorderly emotions. On his shoulder, Dondas lets out a small squeak, breaking the silence. Caracalla absently reaches his hand up to it, stroking its fur, his eyes never leaving Florentia’s.

Shattering the silence, once again, footsteps are heard as they sound down the hall and before they know it Geta has entered the room.

Caracalla’s expression darkens immediately, his grip reflexively tightening on the monkey’s fur. He straightens up, shoulders tense. Dondas emits a soft squeak, clearly sensitive to the sudden shift of movement and the tension in the room.

Geta’s expression is the opposite, a mixture of confusion and surprise cultivating on his features as he looks between two of the closest people in his life and back again. “Salvé Florentia. Hello Caracalla,” His eyebrow arches, as if asking for an explanation.

Reading into this, Florentia says, “Oh! Caracalla and Dondas came to say goodnight!” she laughs, putting on her best smile, motioning towards the troubled brother and his monkey. She prays that Caracalla gets the message and feeds into her lie.

Caracalla glares at the floor, the falsehood rubbing him the wrong way, but he says nothing. His body is rigid, the tension in the room almost palpable. Dondas, the monkey on his shoulder, utters a soft nervous sound, its tiny black eyes darting between the brothers.

“In my room?” Geta questions.

Caracalla's jaw clenches, his patience wearing thin. Before he can say anything, Florentia steps in, her voice smooth and diplomatic. “Yes, we wanted to say goodnight, but you were not here! So, Dondas has been keeping us entertained,” she grins at the monkey, and carefully strokes it. Dondas emits a delicate happy noise, nuzzling against her finger.

Caracalla stays rigid, eyeing her touch. He wants to scrutinise her touch and fling her hands off his Dondas, but something inside stops him. Watching Dondas be happy waivers his anxiety and tension, feeling his body relax a little.

Her words have their intended affect—Geta shrugs, seemingly believing the reason. Caracalla, being free of stress does not last long, as his eyes momentarily flicker back to a storm, fixed onto his brother with a combination of anger and annoyance. Even the monkey on his shoulder seems agitated now, squirming against his grip.

“Well, I am here now,” Geta says, his tone jovial. He walks over to Florentia, draping an arm possessively around her waist. A couple servants follow him in, awaiting to disrobe him and ready for bed. He simply raises a hand, oozing authority and confidence, signalling for them to wait outside until he is ready.

“Yes, goodnight Geta,” Florenfia quickly pecks his cheek with a kiss.

Geta chuckles, clearly more interested in Florentia than the conversation at hand. “Goodnight, sweetheart,”

Caracalla’s gaze traces her lips on his brother’s cheek, his brother’s hand around her waist. His fist clenches at the loved-up couple’s scene before him, his knuckles white with the pressure of his suppressed anger.

Florentia feels Caracalla’s eyes on her, and suddenly steps back from her betrothed. “Goodnight,” she repeats, yet sounds just as jovial.

Geta is somewhat surprised at her sudden detachment but recovers quickly, his smile never faltering. Nevertheless he turns to Caracalla. “Goodnight to you too, brother,” he reaches his hand out, instinctively placing it on his shoulder comfortingly.

Geta turns to Florentia again, his worry increasing. “You seem a bit hot tonight, love. Tired, perhaps? Do you want me to send a healer?” Geta goes on, his worry for his wife-to-be increasing by the second. He places the back of his hand on her forehead, feeling the temperature of her flushed face. The cold touch of his gold rings adorning his fingers send a shiver down her spine, clashing with the warmth of her skin. The sudden coldness immediately alleviates the feverish heat she did not know was radiating off of her. The lying and the tension between her, Geta and his brother evidently have an effect on her.

“No-yes, I- I am quite tired. I think we all are,” she frowns at how odd she’s being and starts to leave the room. “I’ll see you tomorrow,”

Geta watches her go, a hint of concern etching across his face, before turning to Caracalla. Caracalla’s eyes follow her out of the room, his expression filled with frustration and regret. The monkey on his shoulder utters a soft whimper.

“What was that about?” Geta finally asks, breaking the silence.

Caracalla shoots his brother a cold glare, not bothering to hide his annoyance nor jealousy. “Oh, who knows what goes through a woman's mind?” He mutters, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Raising an eyebrow, Geta is caught off guard by his brother’s harsh tone. He opens his mouth to speak but Caracalla delivers a sharp gesture, cutting off whatever lecture he was about to receive. Dondus, on his shoulder, squeaks, burying its head in part of Caracalla’s robe, disturbed by the tense atmosphere.

“I am not in the mood for conversation,” Caracalla snaps, his eyes still fixed on the door, as if he is willing Florentia to come back through it and kiss him. She forgot me.

Geta studies his brother for a moment, taking in the tenseness of his frame, the clenched fists, and the troubled look on his face. He knows Caracalla well enough to recognize when something is bothering him, particularly because his disease confuses his mind.

“I suggest we all get some rest,” Geta says calmly.

Caracalla scoffs, his irritation evident in his voice. “Easy for you to say. Some of us do not have our lovers waiting in our beds at night.”

Geta smiles slyly, enjoying the chance to goad his brother. “Jealous? You have your choice of consorts to keep your bed warm tonight.”

For Caracalla, it is the wrong thing to say. His lips twist into an irritable snarl, unable to control his inner tumult about Florentia any longer. “Why would I want a common whore when you have Florentia?”

Geta's smile vanishes at the insult in his brother's tone. He steps closer, his own annoyance beginning to show. “Florentia is mine. Soon she will be my wife. You must accept that. Do you not, Caracalla?”

Caracalla breaks. The mention of Florentia becoming Geta’s wife from the man in question’s mouth is more than he can take. The mere idea of it makes his blood burn, boiling over and igniting a sudden explosive outburst. “I cannot accept that! She should not be yours! She should be mine!”

Geta is taken aback by Caracalla's sudden eruption. He’s seen his brother lose his temper before, but never about someone else be loves. He knows that Caracalla's illness clouds his rationality, so he tries to keep his own voice calm and steady.

“Caracalla, control yourself. This behavior is unhinged, even for you.”

Control himself? How can he possibly control a feeling so powerful, so consuming? When it comes to Florentia, Caracalla feels he has no control whatsoever.

“I can’t control how I feel!” he nearly shouts back, “I’ve tried! But nothing works! Nothing can make me forget her, not even alcohol or a hundred whores!”

He’s almost pleading for help. Underneath the the affects of the disease is a sincere man and Geta knows this. Geta shakes his head, both exasperated and concerned. He reaches his hands out, gently holding Caracalla’s rosy cheeks. “It is the illness talking, brother. It warps you. You understand that, yes? You are not yourself.”

Caracalla growls, the sound low and throaty, like a cornered animal, but his face instinctively yearn for the closeness and comfort of his brother as he leans into his touch. His shoulders and the rest of his body stay rigid. “Oh, I am perfectly aware of the illness! But that does not change the reality. You know I want her. You know I cannot have her, and you insist on rubbing that fact in my face, day after day, night after night. You cannot stop yourself, can you?”

Geta’s jaw clenches in frustration. It’s not entirely untrue, but he knows Caracalla isn’t completely guiltless in this situation either.

“You had your chance to court her, win her heart. But you blew it, with your impulsiveness, your mood swings, your rages…that is why she chose me.”

The words hit home, and Caracalla visibly winces. It’s true, he knows, deep down. His illness ruins everything, destroys everything, even himself. And yet, he can’t help but protest.

“I tried! I tried to be the man she would want! But I cannot...I can’t control my feelings, cannot control myself…”

He clenches his fists again, the veins in his forearms standing out with the effort. The monkey on his shoulder lets out another whimper, its small paws clinging tighter to his shoulder. He falls back on Geta’s bed, sitting with his head in his hands, sniffling.

Geta watches his brother, torn between anger and pity. Seeing Caracalla reduced to tears is not uncommon, and it is a poignant sight. He reaches out a hesitant hand, unsure if he should try to comfort his brother or leave him to his anguish. “Caracalla…” he says softly.

Caracalla sniffs again, the sound childish and pitiful in the silence of the room. He swipes at his eyes angrily, still trying, in vain, to preserve some measure of dignity. His hand goes up to pet the monkey on his shoulder. There’s a slight tremble in his fingers. “Why can I not have her?” he whispers, the words choked with emotion, “Why have the gods cursed me with this ailment? Why can I not have what I want? It is not fair.”

Geta takes a step closer, sitting next to him. With a hand on him, he gently rubs his back. “You cannot always have what you want, brother. Even as an Emperor. Life does not work that way. You have known that since we were boys, though I suppose that knowledge has been lost somewhere in all that has happened to you. Florentia is not a prize to be won, a toy for you to play with. She is a woman. She has a mind of her own, and she has chosen me.” he explains calmly, yet with a certain seriousness.

Caracalla can’t disagree with that. Florentia is her own person, not a possession, but it’s difficult for him to accept the fact she’s chosen Geta. Every cell in his body rebels against it.

“Have you had her yet?” he can’t resist asking. The question is harsh, laced with jealous spite.

Geta knows exactly what Caracalla is implying. Frowning, his eyes narrowing slightly. He was beginning to think that Caracalla was calming down, but now he is not so sure. “What happens in our bed is none of your concern,” he responds coolly, “but I’ll tell you that we’ve yet to consummate our relationship, if only for her sake.”

“For her sake?” Caracalla repeats, raising an eyebrow. He is both surprised and a little suspicious. It’s not like Geta to abstain from such pleasures, especially when they’re on offer.

Geta sighs, his face a mix of annoyance and concern. “Yes, for her sake. Florentia is not like the courtesans and whores you are accustomed to. She is a lady, honorable, and a virgin. I will not risk compromising her or staining her reputation by giving in to my own carnal desires.”

“How noble of you. I am sure Florentia appreciates your patience, plenty,” Caracalla mutters bitterly.

“She does, yes,” Geta responds calmly. “She trusts me. She feels safe with me.”

“And she does not feel safe with me, is that it? Is that what you are implying?” Caracalla’s voice raises at each word, his temper rising again.

“I do not know what happened between the two of you today, but it is clear that something happened…” he pauses, eyeing Caracalla with a hint of suspicion.

Rising from the bed suddenly, Caracalla has his back turned to Geta, unwilling to meet him in the eye. By the gods, he is acting as guilty as ever.

Geta follows in-suite, standing also. “What happened? Tell me,” he tries to speak gently, to will any information out of his brother, but his protective streak is not going away anytime soon.

“What did you do, Caracalla?” Geta asks again, firmly. His expression turns cold. “You touched her, did you not? I will not ask again—“ his words are laced with quiet fury. He can handle his brother losing his temper, shouting, even throwing things, but this, this he cannot tolerate.

Caracalla keeps his gaze averted, refusing to look at his brother, the accusation landing with a sickening thud to his gut. He fiddles with his hands, and picks at his poxes on his cheek. A seemingly ever-present tense silence continues to fill the room, broken only by the low, anxious whimper of the monkey on his shoulder.

“I just…I just wanted to feel her, that is all. I needed to know what it would feel like to hold her. To feel her skin against mine…her lips…” Caracalla slowly admits, his voice just above a whisper, meek and pathetic.

Geta closes his eyes in barely suppressed anger. This is worse, far worse than he thought. His brother’s illness is a constant burden, but moments like this, when Caracalla completely loses control, are the most dangerous. It’s a reminder that his brother can’t be entirely trusted, that there’s a monster lurking beneath the surface. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“And what did Florentia say when you did this?” He asks lowly.

“She…she pushed me away,” Caracalla says weakly.

Geta glares at his brother, a deep sense of disapproval and disappointment radiating off of him. His mind pictures the scene before him against his will. He feels tears well up, threatening to fall at the thought of Florentia, his love, being forced into something as intimate as a kiss, to her, by his own brother. To hear that she had to push him away, that she did not want to be touched—it is unbearable.

“You scared her,” he accuses, “You let your illness take over, and you scared her. Just like you always do.” The urge to find Florentia, to hug her and comfort her until the sun rises again, is intense.

Caracalla winces, the words hitting him hard. He knows it’s true. He can recall the look on Florentia’s face so easily, that mixture of fear and revulsion when he’d grabbed her, tried to force himself upon her. He flinches, tries in vain to justify his actions.

“I was not myself. The illness….it was taking hold. I couldn’t…couldn’t stop myself.”

Geta scoffs bitterly. “What would have happened if she had not the strength to push you away, mm? Would you have forced yourself on her, even if she did not want it?”

“No!” Caracalla cries. Geta looks unconvinced. He can’t put it past his brother, not after everything he’s seen and experienced.

“LOOK AT ME.” Geta roars. Caracalla jumps in his skin at the sudden noise, and Dondus squeaks, burying himself deeper in his robes. Caracalla shakily turns around, still refusing to make eye contact. Geta says, his voice is hard, full of judgement. “You say that, but I know you. I know how much control you lose when the illness takes hold. So forgive me if I have trouble believing you.”

Caracalla struggles to keep his emotions in check. His brother’s accusation hurts. More than anything, he wants Geta to understand. But it’s hard to find the words to explain just how overwhelming the disease can be, how much it twists his thoughts and feelings. “You do not understand what it is like! The headaches, the…the voices I hear...the nightmares when I sleep. It is like there is another person inside me, someone I cannot control.”

Geta shakes his head, frustrated. He does understand, in part, but sympathising with his brother’s illness is hard at times like this. Caracalla has not exactly made it easy for him.

“I know that, brother. I know it is not easy dealing with all that. But it is no excuse to take your anger out on others, especially not on someone as delicate as Florentia,”

Caracalla growls, his pride pricked. He doesn’t think of Florentia as delicate, not in the same way Geta does. To him, she’s strong, capable, someone who can match his intensity. “You act as if she’s some fragile doll that can’t handle a bit of passion. I know for a fact she is capable of handling me,”

Geta snorts. Caracalla’s insistence on proving her worth is as irritating as it is ridiculous. Anyone can see Florentia is strong and resilient, but that doesn’t mean she deserves to be subjected to his brother’s violent, erratic behavior.

“Perhaps she is. But do you really think attacking her, scaring her, is the correct way to show your ‘passion’? Because let me tell you, brother, it only pushes her further from you.”

Caracalla falters, some small part of him knowing that Geta’s right. He grips Dondus tighter. He’s hurt Florentia and it’s pushed her away. But at the same time, he can’t understand why. Why can’t she see past his illness to the man beneath? Why does she resist his advances, when he loves her so fiercely?

“You do not think I know that?” he snaps, “You think I enjoy scaring her? That I am some monster who enjoys seeing her frightened and on edge?”

Geta is unsure at first. The thought of Florentia scared out of her mind, enough to push Caracaa away, knowing what ba happened in her past—it becomes unbearable again. “I know you do not. But you make it hard for anyone to see that, brother. You lash out when you are hurt or sick or upset, and people remember that. You have given them every reason to fear you.” he takes a deep breath. “And I must check on Florentia now,”

“No! You cannot leave yet—” Caracalla looks away, a muscle ticking in his jaw. It’s true. He doesn’t mean to hurt people, but it happens regardless. The headaches, the voices, the nightmares—they all get worse when he’s stressed or angry, and that clearly lead to…to whatever happened with Florentia today. He grits his teeth, frustrated and ashamed in equal measure and looks up at his brother.

“Wh-what do you suggest I do? Just be meek and mild and polite all the time?”

Geta sighs again, his expression one of weary patience.

“No, I am not suggesting you change your entire personality. I am saying you need to find a better way to control your anger. Find outlets that do not involve hurting those around you. If you truly care about Florentia, you will learn how to restrain yourself.”

“How? The healers…they know nothing!” Caracalla shrieks, exasperated, grasping at Geta’s hands for stability almost as if to gain his healthiness.

Geta grimaces. Caracalla’s frustration is understandable, but it doesn’t change the fact that the physicians they’ve consulted have been unable to find any effective treatment for his illness. “I know they are not helping, brother, but you cannot give up just yet. We will keep searching, find more healers, more doctors until we find some way to help you,”

Caracalla scoffs, shaking his head. He’s tired of healers, of their useless concoctions and empty promises. “You do not believe that. I can see it in your eyes, you think they are all quacks, every one of them. And you are not exactly wrong. If there were a way to help me, we would have found it by now. I am beginning to lose hope, brother. I do not think there is a cure for what ails me,”

Geta’s jaw tightens, but his eyes show sympathy. He doesn’t exactly deny the accusation since Caracalla is correct—Geta doesn’t believe much in the healers and physicians that come to court to try and ‘treat’ Caracalla. Yet, he also can’t accept his brother’s fatalism. “I will not allow you give up, brother. There must be a way. Even if we have to scour the entire world, we will find it. I swear it.”

Taken aback by emotion, Caracalla’s lip wobbles. He gives his brother a look that’s full of appreciation, tears brimming his eyes. Geta’s determination, it’s bordering on naive. Still…there’s a stubborn part of Caracalla that still wants to cling to hope, to the idea that he can fight his illness, that he can overcome it. “You are as stubborn as a mule, you know that?” he blubbers. “You are going to send people halfway across the world on a fool’s errand.”

Geta smiles wryly, the expression more fond than amused. “That’s something we have in common, brother. We both have stubborn streaks a mile wide.” He pauses, looks directly into his brother’s eyes. “And I will go to the ends of the earth for you, if that’s what it takes. Don’t dare to doubt my convictions.”

Caracalla can’t help but smile at that, touched in spite of himself. For all their disagreements, Geta has always been loyal, always believed in him and loved him in a way nobody else has, even if he cannot remember. He appreciates his brother, even if he won’t admit it. “I do appreciate your conviction. Even if it is wasted on a poor, ill-fated wretch like me.”

Geta shakes his head, his expression almost pained. “Don’t say that about yourself. You’re not doomed, brother. Not if I have any say in it.” He squeezes his brother’s hands gently. “I will not let you give up. Not ever. Understood?”

Caracalla looks at his brother’s hand on his, a lump forming in his throat. He appreciates the reassurance, even if he doesn’t completely believe it. But…he’ll try. For Geta’s sake, he’ll try to believe things can get better.

“Understood,” he mutters, voice thick with emotion.

Dondus chitters happily. “See? Dondus agree,” Geta chuckles. “Now, I must see to Florentia,”

At the mention of her name, Caracalla cowers. His stomach fills with a strange mix of guilt, love, and jealousy.

“No! Don’t leave me,” He grabs onto Geta’s hands harder.

“Caracalla, you should get some rest. I will see you in the morning,”

“No,” he shakes his head. More tears fall down his rosy cheeks, his nose drippy. He’s like a stubborn child, too scared or stubborn to go to bed. That is sometimes how he feels when Caracalla gets into these states he’s in, consumed by his disease.

“Caracalla, it’s time for bed. You are tired,” Geta calls for his servants, while Caracalla stands blubbering, holding onto Dondas. “See that Caracalla goes to bed,” he instructs his servants, “And call for the healer. I fear he will struggle in falling asleep tonight. I am sure there’s something they can give him for that,”

“Lavender,” Caracalla voices meekly, as the servants carefully guide him away from Geta.

“Lavender, that’s…lovely,” Geta says, nodding in encouragement as Caracalla follows the servants, leaving the room. “Goodnight, brother,”

A few moments after Caracalla leaves, Geta races to leave the room, hurrying down the hallway. He must find Florentia.

Meanwhile, Caracalla’s legs carry him to his chambers with the servants. They are as delicate as a mother is to a child while they disrobe him, plump up his pillows and fill them with flowers and herbs which evoke calmness and sleep. They then tuck him into bed. Dondus is curled up on his chest, like a cat as Caracalla sucks his own thumb—something he does when alone, to self-soothe.

YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS.

A/N:

God, I love Caracalla at the end. Like yeah ur just a little baby let me tuck you in. Omg.

I wanted to write Dondas as a girl but the monkey is actually a boy believe it or not. But I do love when other fanfic writers refer to Dondas as a girl…genderfluid icon. 💅 Also there’s so many different ways to spell Dondas so if you notice it changes throughout this fanfic, no you don’t 🩷

I'm tired as I'm finishing this but I really wanna post it. Let me know if there's mistakes or something. I hope u enjoy it.

Comment if you want to be on the taglist!

I made a playlist for this fanfic if you care! Link here

#snazzynacho fanfics #gladiator 2 #gladiator ii spoilers #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladiator ii fanfiction #geta x reader #emperor caracalla #emperor geta #emperor geta fanfic #emperor caracalla x reader #emperor geta x female reader #emperor Caracalla x female reader

148 notes · View notes

judasofsuburbia · 2 years ago

Text

So you’re looking to write some smut but feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure where to start. Smut writing comes easily to some and not others, and that’s okay! Here are some tips I’ve gathered over my few years of writing smut to take with a grain of salt! It's my opinion; you can always do what you want!! <333

It’s fiction writing at the end of the day. So, it’s okay if you haven’t experienced what you’re writing about or maybe you have experienced it but you find it difficult to put it into words. I’ve never fought a creature from the Upside Down but I’ve written about it because that’s what fiction writing IS!! You’re creating a story from your own experiences/thoughts/emotions and applying it to a made-up scenario. So don’t feel discouraged by your own personal journey, anyone can write smut!!

When in doubt, plan it out. When I’m really stuck, just simply grabbing a piece of notebook paper and writing out each event in a sequence, even in the most basic terms, can make things so much easier. For example: making out, blow job, hand job, prep, fuck. Write down positions (sometimes limbs can get lost in the sauce and it is so hard to figure out how they’re actually doing it lmao). Write down settings. Write down if one person is leading it more than the other or if they switch off. Write down desperation levels (personally, I think it’s more fun when desperation is very high but casual fluffy smut is fun too!!) This will help the writing process feel a lot less daunting.

More specifically, remember that prep is important. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been taken out of a smutty fic because they get to the main act (penetration, typically) way before someone should be ready to. Fingers, mouths, and lube (actual lube or something that can be safely used as lube. Blood is not lube. Blood is not lube as it is a liquid that dries quickly and offers no moisture so it will not help you penetrate anything, as hot as it would be.) Foreplay and prep can be a really good tool to establish a sexy dynamic between your characters and get the reader ramped up to read through to the end!

If you feel like the action part is getting too technical, this is where you can add in thoughts and emotions that will give your smut some personality. It can feel very silly to write, for instance, your character A thinking “Wow character B is so hot” but it’s a thought that would probably cross their mind!! Write out any nerves the characters are feeling or maybe even the confidence they’re feeling. Write out what sensations they pay attention to. Write out what they like and dislike. Write out what actions cause an immediate response from them (moaning, bucking their hips, groaning, eyes rolling, etc.) Write out how your character would verbally respond (Are they dirty talking? Are they praising? Are they degrading? Are they stuttering through their words? Are they incoherent because the sex is so good?) It’s important that your characters still feel natural and not like sex robots. Unless your story is about sex robots, then go off!!!

The thesaurus is your fucking FRIEND!! Smut can feel ridiculously repetitive, especially if you’ve written it before. I say every time I write a blow job scene that “god blow job scene is blow job scene is blow job scene” because that’s how it FEELS! Use your resources like the thesaurus or there are a million posts with other ways to say “said”, ways to describe a kiss, etc. Just be careful that you don’t fall into using words that seem unnatural to the flow of the story (for example, a lot of synonyms for cock are simply…unsettling and can take your reader out of the story). Find ways to creatively tell the same action again and again which leads to tip #5…

Go read some smut. The tag “porn what plot” is so unbelievably helpful. Even if the writing isn’t exactly your style or your preference, sometimes reading someone else’s descriptions of sexual acts can be helpful if you’re lost! I have a few faves that I go back to read to get inspiration and I have notes about what it is specifically I enjoyed about their work. While you’re at it, if a fic inspires you and you feel comfortable doing so, leave a comment! It’ll make the author’s day, I promise.

TAKE THIS TIP WITH AN ABSOLUTE GRAIN OF SALT but…go watch it. Or my personal preference, go listen to it. If I’m really lost, I’ll seek out audio porn that follows the same ~vibe~ of whatever I’m writing. There are many websites for this but Soundgasm is my go-to (it’s a free upload site so there are THOUSANDS of sounds and varying quality levels so it might take a second to find what you’re looking for)! Even a sexy playlist on Spotify can put you into a good headspace for writing. Just make sure you’re being safe and looking out for your own comfort levels. Never put yourself in a situation to experience something triggering for the sake of writing a good story.

All of this to say, it is so different to write smut than it is to write a regular plot. It can feel incredibly daunting to go about it and find the perfect balance between technical actions and thoughts/feelings/dialogue and then make it all cohesive in the end. It’s hard to do but it’s not impossible!

#i hope this is helpful in some way!!#writing #writing tips #fanfiction writing #smut #smut writing #fanfiction #archive of our own #writing tools #writing reference #references #reference

817 notes · View notes

olderthannetfic · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/766905425760337920/olderthannetfic-i-used-the-data-people-gave-me

https://dl.acm.org/doi/abs/10.1145/3025453.3025720

if you (or any of this blog's followers who likes statistics) have the time to go into detail, how can i find and/or make charts similar to those? i'm curious to see more recent numbers for the stats in the research but i don't know how to search for them. looking up terms like 'ao3 statistics' only brings up results for personal works like hits, views, and kudos.

*dying*

Anon... my charts are just numbers I grabbed by hand from AO3.

Cecelia Aragon runs a data science lab at a university where they downloaded all of FFN and then wrote programs to try to assign metadata and crunch numbers.

The first step to any stats project is to figure out what question you're asking and what kind of data would actually answer it.

Then you look at your target site (or whatever) and see where that data might be stored or how it could be determined in a relatively objective way. This requires a lot of understanding of the site in question.

For example, I wanted shipping stats for Wattpad. It doesn't offer AO3-style tags for that, so I needed to randomly sample, then hand-classify. Destination Toast ran an analysis like that and outsourced the classification to others with the instruction to mark something as "gen" if it was too hard to tell if there was a ship. Knowing what Wattpad is like—very, very het and very, very incoherent—I thought this was a poor choice. When I did my analysis, I erred on the side of assuming something was het rather than gen. I think that makes my numbers more accurate, but more is not entirely. Since I did my hand-classification myself, it will be more consistent... but also potentially more inaccurate in some particular direction. Outsourcing reduces the chance of one person's takes biasing the whole dataset but introduces other potential problems.

Being aware of these drawbacks in various methods of looking at data is important. You can't really fix them, but you can at least note them in your writeup.

For example, looking at AO3 as AO3 is relatively easy, but using AO3 to generalize about fanfic is a terrible idea. Many fandom stats people don't realize this or don't realize why this is so.

Which stats are you after in particular? Shipping? Join dates? Kudos ratios?

31 notes · View notes

maircries · 1 day ago

Note

Hi I noticed your screaming in the tags on GraveEyes post and wondered if you have any Diggory/Nik thoughts that you’d be happy to share cos I would love to hear them :D

Oh man I have..,., SO many thoughts, most of them largely incoherent. I just think they’re neat!! This rant got longer than anticipated 🫣

I’ll preface this by saying I don’t think Percy and Diggory were bad for each other, but Marolmar and Nikignik definitely were. So if anything sounds like I’m bashing on Stitches it’s not meant to be negative, just a comment on their innocence and timing of meeting each other.

You, Roki, and ao3 user jthm21 (sorry I have no idea if they’re here on tumblr) were def the first ones to put the idea in my brain, but as soon as I saw it I agreed immediately that they would be good for each other.

First of all, there’s the whole thing about Diggory having absorbed Marolmar’s heart and thus, at the very least, extending their longevity if not putting them on the same level as the other Indescribables. But I also think that there was something very poetic about how Diggory was the one to take Marolmar’s heart, the machine that would doom the planet and humanity. Diggory, who observed and tried to make things better for all of their friends, took this piece of destruction and went on to join the museum and help preserve memories. Something about that just gets to me man.

In regards to their actual relationship, I just think their personalities would mesh super well!! Tbh, I feel like neither would know what to do with it right away, so used to being treated differently. Like, the first time Nik would narrate and tell stories to Diggory, I think he would for a hot minute be so excited and just rambling and once he realizes what he’s doing, he’d turn to Diggory expecting them to tell him to stop talking so much or have tuned him out to work on something, but instead Diggory would be sitting there with rapt attention and having heard every little thing, spoken and unspoken, that Nik said. And Diggory is a wanderer. Even after they muted that piece of Irene that told them to walk, they still chose to move rather than stay stagnant (joining the museum and then staying there for 14 years). They’d tell Nik they need to move, to walk, expecting SOME sort of pushback, only for Nik to offer to stroll along with them. Don’t think too hard about them walking in The Orchard. They’d enjoy having someone to observe anything and everything around them, who will watch and listen and share just to watch and listen and share. Nik and Diggory would have a love without any expectations except a quiet unspoken one to always come back.

Diggory would be good for Nik because I think they would help Nik be more sure of himself and his decisions. So often in the show we seem him flustered and uncertain when he has to make a choice: waking Mort, before joining the council, etc. I think Diggory would, in that special way where they help you think around the current matter, help Nik lay his worries out and see what is under his control and what he cannot change. In return, Nik would offer that same stability in a different form. Nik will offer Diggory someone to always return home to. Nikignik would want Diggory to put themselves first (although not necessarily in a healthy way, but rather as an anticipatory shield from Marolmar’s behavior). Diggory, instead of doing it alone, I think would invite Nik to take the journey with them, and Nik would help Diggory remember what is for them and what is for others. He’d help sort out when Diggory is being too giving to others versus selfless in a selfcare way.

Idk man I just think about how different Diggory is from Marolmar and how different Nikignik is from Percy and how those two coming together would be both incredibly healing and very wholesome.

#maircries #GraveEyes #hello from the hallowoods #hfth #hfth season 4 #Hfth s3 #diggory graves #nikignik

14 notes · View notes

crow97street · 7 months ago

Text

─── ⋆⋅it’s not just nostalgia, is it?⋅⋆ ───

part 1

synopsis ✦‧₊˚ chan discovers age regression and he finds comfort in indulging in light agere, also deals with not being ashamed/embarrassed about it^ - ^

warning/tags ✦‧₊˚ light age regression (not in this part), caring skz members, overworking, self-deprecating thoughts, also silly skz doing silly things

notes ✦‧₊˚ haiii!! this is my very first fic:) it will probably suck cos my only experience is a klance fic on wattpad 3 years ago… but anywho! i got sick of the only fics i enjoyed being member ship fics </3 so i made my own!! this fic is solely focused on chan’s agere journey with platonic relationships with the kids :) no i do NOT hope chan struggles with any of this i just find comfort in somebody i love being the same as me! OH AND THIS WILL BE MULTIPLE PARTS!! okay enough yapping i hope you enjoy!

word count ✦‧₊˚ 1,464

song rec for this ;)

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

The familiar sounds of his ringtone woke Chan up with a grunt. He made some unintelligible noises before groggily opening his eyes to check the time. 2:31 it read.

“Shit.”

Chan cursed as he quickly swiped his fingers across the screen accepting the call.

“Channie-hyung?” Chan assumed it was Felix by the unique deep timbre in the voice, realizing he didn’t bother checking the contact.

“Mhm ‘lix?” Chan sleepily replied.

“Hyung? Where are you? You said you’d be home by midnight.” There was a worrying undertone to Felix’s voice that made Chan cringe.

“Sorry lixie, I fell asleep at the studio. I’m packing up now, I’ll be home in fifteen.” Chan answered as he began powering off his monitor and packing his laptop.

“It’s alright hyung, get home safe.” Chan heard Felix sigh near the end of his sentence.

“Course lix, see you soon.” Chan couldn’t keep the tiny smile from growing on his face at his dongsaengs concern. He hung the phone up and finished packing his things. Chan stood there staring off into the distance. Unable to shake the deep emptiness he’s felt lately. It feels wrong. Why is he lonely? He has so many friends and his members are always around. Why does he feel empty? He’s happy, he’s made it. Chan sighs once more trying, and failing, to pull himself together as he swings the door open.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

Chan heard as incoherent whispers died down at his arrival. He turned the corner to be met with, expectedly, Felix’s face. Unexpectedly, Changbins.

“Hyung! Your home.” Felix kept his voice soft spoken as he approached, Chan assumed to not wake the other kids sleeping.

“Hi lixie.” Chan warmly smiled at Felix before accepting his embrace with a content sigh. There was a cough leading Chan’s attention to the other person in the room.

“Hey Changbin, what are you doin’ up? Normally you're out by like, ten.” Chan laughs to hopefully ease the suffocating tension in the room. It didn’t work.

“Felix told me you keep coming home late.” Changbin clears his throat as he speaks , clearly trying not to come off too aggressive. Too bad Chan knows him better than himself.

“Oh, yeah uh sorry I fell asleep again.” Chan awkwardly replies with nervous eyes. Felix and Changbin share a discontent glance and Felix sighs before he speaks up again.

“H-Hyung we don't want to sound overbearing or anything but, you’ve been staying late kind of a lot lately and we uhm” a pause. “We just want to make sure you're sleeping enough and taking care of yourself.” Felix rambles on with nervous gestures and fidgets that make Chan’s heart squeeze with guilt. Why does he keep doing this to them? Just because he felt a little lonely? Chan was wracked with deep guilt and frustration towards himself.

“Yeah channie-hyung, everyone’s sorta noticed but lixie made us realize it was a bit more.. Concerning than originally.” Changbin sighed out with guilt in his gaze. No, that wasn’t right, Changbin shouldn’t feel guilt. Chan should.

Wait, ‘everyone’? Fuck chan really did it this time. He broke his gaze and shook his head lightly to clear his thoughts.

“I’m really sorry guys, I didn’t mean for this to become a recurring thing, I just got so focused on work and making sure we kept up with our schedule.” Chan confessed avoiding the twin pair of worrying eyes.

“It’s alright hyung, but try not to let it happen again yea? We aren’t mad or anything, we just want to make sure you're okay.” Felix gave him a tiny smile. Changbin nodded in agreement.

“Yeah of course, let’s get you to bed though sorry I kept you both up.” Chan returned the small smile before walking further inside, moving their shoulders along with him. He received two small nods before he led them into their respective rooms.

Walking into his own room he let out another deep sigh. How many is that by now by the way? Before turning to his bathroom to brush his teeth.

Chan let his thoughts run as he auto-piloted his night routine. How could he let it get bad enough the kids realized? Gosh he can’t believe he’d worried them so much, he needs to get over whatever this weird feeling is so he can be there for everyone, he's the leader for god’s sake, shouldn’t he know better?

“Fuck.” Chan muttered as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looks terrible, no wonder they all noticed. Chan shook his head and returned to his bedroom flopping onto his bed and pulling out his phone. He’ll scroll on twitter for a bit before he sleeps.

Chan mindlessly scrolls, a few posts making him chuckle lightly, STAY’s were funny. He paused as he saw a post talking about the nostalgia of childhood cartoons. Chan felt himself smile imagining little Chris watching spongebob and adventure time in his living room. Chan felt a yearning grow in his chest. He wishes he could just be a kid again. Harmlessly watching cartoons and chugging down pineapple juice boxes, gosh he wishes. Chan feels his eyes tug, letting sleep consume him as thoughts of legos and car toys fill his mind.

⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆

Chan’s eyes flutter open to a loud thud. He swiftly picks up his phone to read the time displayed, 11:21. Shit way later than he wanted. He begrudgingly dragged himself into a sitting position on his bed sighing. Fuck hes not 10 years old and watching cartoons is he. Why is that still on his mind? Whatever, no time to dwell. He took a deep breath before standing and making his way to figure out what the thud was.

Chan walked out of the hallway to, well, quite the sight.

Jeongin and Hyunjin were playfully arguing and pushing each other over some rpg game on the screen. Felix and Jisung were frantically running around the kitchen with - what Chan assumes is - pancake batter smeared and splattered in various areas. Timers and blenders are going off along with the pancake mess too.

Finally, Chan drags his eyes to Changbin and Seungmin lying on the carpet going through bags of old clothes. Wait where is-

“Leeknow?” Chan asks aloud, scanning his eyes across the room once more to be sure he didn’t miss him among the chaotic scenery. All eyes snap to him immediately causing him to tense.

“Bathroom!” He hears a distant voice call out in monotone from down the hall. Ah, there he is. Chan gives the kids an apprehensive nod before backing up and spinning on his heel down the hall.

“Soooo why are you in the bathroom and not joining the- well, i don’t know what it is exactly. I don’t think ‘hangout’ quite captures whatever is happening in there.” Chan drags his eyes around the bathroom as he speaks, finally landing them on the other boy.

Leeknow pauses brushing his teeth to give Chan a long glance before spitting out his toothpaste.

“I escaped.” He stated blandly. Fair enough. Chan cleared his throat to speak again before he was interrupted by a yell from the not-hangout in the living room.

“Channie hyung!! We need help!” Chan couldn’t decipher whose voice it was, it might have been multiple? Nonetheless he sped down the hallway to see what the dilemma was.

“What’s going on?” Chan asked as he reached the kitchen. Although it seems he doesn't quite need a verbal reply. Felix is trying to stop the electric mixer from spinning as it tosses even more pancake batter around the room. Chan’s eyes widen and he rushes over to look for a solution.

“We just wanted some pancakes..” He sees Jisung cry with a pout out of his peripheral vision. Chan sighs - fondly but he won’t admit that - before quickly running to pull the plug out of the outlet, stopping the mixer.

He gets multiple odd blinks before Jisung speaks.

“Why didn’t we think of that?” He asks dumbfounded as he shares a glance with the other boy in the kitchen.

“Thank you channie-hyung you’ve saved our lives!!” Jisung dramatically exhales as he drapes himself along Chan. Chan rolls his eyes and pats Jisung’s head.

“Yahhh, look at the mess you two have made.” Chan sighs as he scans the kitchen. The two boys' expressions grow sheepish as they nervously chuckle.

“Well get to cleaning!” Chan yells out as the two scramble to get rags and towels. Chan chuckles and helps them all begin to clean. The whole situation just reminds Chan of the time he caused a huge mess cleaning pancakes with his mom when he was young. Chan pauses his motion of swiping the towel. Huh, there it is again.

#bang chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #seungmin #jeongin #stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic #fanfic #not x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop boys #stray kids fanfic

24 notes · View notes

lockdaisy · 2 years ago

Text

Appreciation for Leon’s Character Design in Resident Evil 4 Remake:

I just wanted to discuss Leon’s character design in RE4 Remake, because WOW, holy moly

Now first, I’d like to admit that it took some time for me to get used to his new design in this game. Leon was THE first video game character I ever found sexy, so his OG RE4 appearance was and still is absolutely beloved to me, and thus any differences between his design in this game and his design in the OG RE4 were jarring enough that I found his new design off-putting initially

But now that I’ve gotten used to it, I can confidently say that it stands right alongside OG RE4 as THE iconic Leon character design, imo

And I just wanted to talk a little bit more in depth about why I love it so much, because it is CLEAR that Capcom put a lot of thought and care into his new design

(Putting under a read more so that I don't clutter up the tag with my borderline incoherent ramblings)

• First, on a more general note, I’d like to say that I deeply appreciate the fact that, even in 1998 with the OG RE2, Capcom designed Leon with the intent of making him a pretty boy. It was a HUGELY unconventional and brave decision on Capcom’s part since it was and still is exceedingly rare for a video game, especially a horror video game, that has a western male protagonist and that is attempting to appeal to broader international sensibilities to make that male protagonist a pretty boy. The overwhelming majority of the time, in order to conform to broader international expectations of masculinity, if a video game has a western male protagonist, they will make him either completely average-looking or a gruff and grizzled hyper-masculine man

Now, am I saying that there's something wrong with enjoying or preferring average-looking or gruff and grizzled hyper-masculine male characters? Absolutely not. After all, I myself have my fair share of them that I enjoy, e.g. James Sunderland and Gordon Freeman. And am I saying that video game companies design western male characters with the intent of making them ugly? Absolutely not. Most of them just designed them with the intent of making them handsome in a way that conformed to traditional international standards of masculinity

In actuality, all I'm trying to say is, video games very rarely make western male protagonists pretty boys due to a fear of enraging international audiences who have very rigid notions of masculinity. A fear that is very warranted, in fact, considering how vitriolic male gamers get whenever video games have the ~audacity~ to make western male protagonists pretty boys. For example, back when MGS2 first released and Raiden was the protagonist, many male fans went into an apoplectic frenzy of hate, and they justified doing so by saying the 2001 equivalent of "forcing me to play as a pretty boy is ruining civilization and infecting me with effeminate wokeness." So, because of that, many video game companies absolutely refuse to make western male protagonists pretty boys

And honestly, it makes Leon's character design as a pretty boy even more unique and bold. So much so, even, to the extent that, back in 2005, when I was eight years old and first began playing the OG Resident Evil 4 on my GameCube (it was my first Resident Evil game, by the way), I was downright gobsmacked when I first saw Leon, because he was the first western male protagonist in a video game that I saw that was pretty. And I was not the only one feeling this way, because this unique design definitely sent shockwaves throughout the gaming community at the time, as his pretty looks made him stand out among the crowd of gruff and grizzled manly men and turned him into one of the few male video game sex symbols out there. (And thankfully, Leon was cool enough in RE4 that male fans embraced him and his pretty boy status. Funnily enough, they did the same for Raiden once MGRR came out too)

And Leon is most definitely a pretty boy in this game, as even Krauser himself explicitly acknowledges

• Next, I love how they blended Leon's RE2 Remake and OG RE4 designs. Capcom faced the unenviable task of not only maturing Leon's RE2R face (which was and still is controversial among the fandom), but having to do so in a way that bridged the gap between RE2R Leon and RE4R Leon while operating under the looming shadow of the universally beloved OG RE4 design. They knew that, with Leon's status as a sex symbol, they were under especially heightened scrutiny to get this right, and that they would be subject to particularly severe backlash if they botched it. Thankfully, they somehow managed to strike the right balance in this game and matured his face in a way that not only made him very closely resemble the iconic OG RE4 design, but remain recognizable as someone who had once been RE2R Leon as well. Overall, I am supremely satisfied with the results, as they modified away a lot of the issues I had with his RE2R face while still maintaining visual continuity and making him very pretty like his OG RE4 design. Both OG RE4 and RE4R Leons are pretty, and I'm so happy

• Also, I love love love the fact that they made RE4 Remake Leon very visibly traumatized. Everything about his appearance screams depression and PTSD: his cheeks carry hints of gauntness, his gaze is haunted, and the bags beneath his eyes are so deep that they're literally bruised purple. Yeah, while he got a lot more muscular, all of it is just pure rangy muscle, which suggests that even though he exercises a lot, he likely struggles to eat enough, which is why his face is more gaunt than it should be. Also, his haunted gaze just very obviously shows that he's seen things that no human being should ever have to witness. And his painfully exhausted eyes show that he's overwhelmingly sleep deprived because either he is overworked to the point that he never gets any rest or he himself struggles to sleep because of nightmares, or both. In fact, his sleep exhaustion is so severe that there is literally purple discoloration down to his literal cheekbones. This man hasn't seen a bed in years

Yeah, there are a lot of video game characters that are traumatized. However, for the vast majority of them, their trauma doesn't manifest in their appearance in any way. They'll still have bright eyes, full cheeks, and flawless faces. But Leon??? Oh, his trauma is visible from miles away. You can visibly tell that Raccoon City turned his world upside down, that the U.S. government enslaved him by threatening to kill Sherry if he didn't agree to work for them, and that he was forced to re-traumatize himself over and over again by constantly going into missions where he faces off against life-threatening bioterrorist monsters, and that it all took an enormous toll on his physical, emotional, and mental health

• In addition, I adore how his design makes it believable that he's an experienced badass special agent. His default facial expression is calm and stoic, his gaze is visibly jaded, and his entire unfazed mien shows that he is cool and collected. It is automatically believable that he is a seasoned special agent who has encountered these kinds of threats numerous times before. He's seen it all before, and he knows he'll see it all again

• Lastly, on an ending note, I love how Capcom managed to make him look visibly traumatized and seasoned while still keeping his prettiness. It is very difficult to give a character the kinds of visual flaws that usually denote trauma (gaunt cheeks, eye bags, etc) while still keeping them pretty, but Capcom knocked it right out of the park. He's not only visibly traumatized and experienced, but he's also very pretty. In fact, rather than making it so that he's pretty despite his visible trauma and experience, they made it so that his visible trauma and experience actually enhances his prettiness. Those gaunt cheeks and exhausted eyes give him a tragic beauty that cannot be matched

And it makes Leon's character design even more unique since he's not only a pretty boy, which is already very rare for western male protagonists in the video game world, but he's a visibly traumatized pretty boy, which is even rarer

I just..... gaaaaaaah, I love his design, I love his design sooooooo muuuuuuuuuch

#leon kennedy #león scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #re4 #re4 remake #re4r #my stuff #not op #resident evil #queue

261 notes · View notes

afantasyoffiction · 2 months ago

Text

a lil intro :)

hi hello to anyone who's checking this out!

i’m caitlin, an aspiring fantasy writer and maybe poet, english literature nerd and general fandom weirdo who likes to talk a lot about all my many many obsessions :)

i'm new to actively participating on this site as opposed to watching thru the window of pinterest...but now that i write more and 9-1-1 in particular doesn't post on pinterest so much, i'm on here too rip

i talk about: writing, procrastinating writing, reading writing and characters in writing who drive me insane!

my writing: i write poetry which i will post on here occasionally! but my main writing that is intended for other ppl to read is fanfic, and my fantasy wip:

my fics that you can go read literally right now if you want:

just to sit outside your door - buddie post-hiatus wip

if I glued myself shut (you would find your way in) - buck's pov during the 'are his concerns your concerns', feeling realisation

you've haunted me so stunningly - eddie pov during the post -lightning convo w buck, based on that amazing edit making the rounds rn

just to sit outside of your (ipad screen) light - eddie post-hiatus mini fic, feelings realisation

the witches wip: a ya fantasy book (one day trilogy i hope!) about a world where witches are gone, but persecution of them isn't. trying to save her innocent sister from execution, my fmc gets dragged into a storm of political plotting, conflicting agendas and strange powers beyond her comprehension. a book about family, and realising that what you thought was a bedtime story might still be around to haunt you... tagged with #the witches wip

my ao3: a_fantasy_2 - all the good stuff is copied above! tags are #shameless fanfic plug and #caitlin's original writing

main fandoms: i have been in a ridiculous number of fandoms so this is not all of them but these are my main ones - bold are ones im currently in the trenches abt :)

9-1-1 (pls no ship war content tho i just cannot)

marauders (my og loml one true fandom its a canon event i fear)

good omens (book and tv show changed my life)

anything leigh bardugo but SoC and RoW especially

supernatural (its been a while but then again i'm fandom posting on this site so its kinda a given)

anything by chloe gong....(message me PLEASE. best ya fantasy writer and my literal writing idol)

EPIC the musical - i love this so freaking much, if you don't know what this is go find out u won't regret it

hamilton (i am in fact hamiltrash, unfortunately)

aftg (im not writing that out. if you know what that acronym is thats on you.)

tagging system: i got one of those creepy teeth 'frequent poster badges', so i think it might be time for me to get one of these. ahem. on an incoherent blog, i declare order:

#caitlin writes and yaps abt it - writblr content (these will almost always have the 'writblr' and 'writers on tumblr' tag as well)

#caitlin's original writing - any writing from my wips or poetry i share

#the witches wip - specific wip content!

#caitlin the english major - literature posts

#caitlin reblogs from even cooler blogs and/or #caitlin's moot besties - reblogging my moots or other cool ppl!

#caitlin does ask games / #caitlin does reblog games - making a separate tag bc i LOVE these

#shameless fanfic plug - fics that i write on ao3 and want to share here

#caitlin rambles miscellaneous - anything else thats incoherent

fandom posts will all be tagged with their fandom and with #caitlin a fandom nerd

sound good? let me know if this actually makes this blog make any more sense mk team

please send me: asks/posts/comments about these fandoms, short fic writing prompts within these fandoms, writblr content, writing questions, or literature thoughts :)

(pls don’t send me requests for money or ai content. i will block and delete, here’s why. )

basically reach out if you just want to ramble about any of these things because what else is tumblr dot com for ... seriously what. actually what was this site made for it beats me

#writer #fandom #nerd #rambling into the void #maybe one day the void will ramble back #updated this because i expected this to be a fandom blog and now im on writblr #and i love it here #second update tag to commemorate the probably inevitable veer into english major and linguistics posting #i said this would be an incoherent blog and i MEANT IT #third update because poetry posting? maybe #fourth? idk many updates bc apparently this blog has far more content than originally planned

15 notes · View notes

bloodyquillink-blog · 1 year ago

Note

I loved your reader x logan story!!!! it made me NEED more lol. Would you be willing to possibly write one for logan x reader where they meet at heshs wedding. Logan is best man for hesh, and reader is heshs finance maid of honor. they get forced to pair up and hate each other but then fall in love by the end of the wedding planning.

If it’s super confusing that’s okay!!

A/N 🪶: I’m glad you enjoyed it! I noticed you said they meet at Hesh’s wedding but then said they fall in love by the end of the wedding planning which was sort of confusing so I made a few adjustments if that’s okay. I will say I struggled with this prompt a bit, but the challenge felt good! I'm gonna label this one an f!reader as I noticed you used her when explaining.

Warnings/Tags: Reader wears a dress, Reader is from east coast, very fluffy and sweet, Happy Ending, Spaceballs(1987) Reference, Features a couple oc!characters as reader’s friends, Logan used to tease reader for being short, Keegan and Kick get bitches

Word Count: 5.1K

Who Would’ve Thought? Logan Walker x f!reader

You step out of the cab and grab your luggage from the trunk of the black SUV, your friends following. As your group moves to the sidewalk so as to not obstruct traffic, Wanda shades her eyes from the bright sun and looks up at the giant hotel.

“Lena’s fiancé rented out this whole place?!” Wanda exclaims in disbelief.

“Actually, it was her fiancés captain. David wasn’t even asking him to, he just brought up that they wanted some place nice and spacious for everyone and then his captain took care of it all.” Shawn corrects.

“Aw, that’s nice of him. Looks like he spared no expense either, shit!” Mara laughs.

“Looks like we’ll also be with a bunch of soldiers too, so remember to be nice! I’m looking at you, Mara.” You point.

“If they don’t mess with me, or any of you for that matter, then I won’t mess with them. Might wanna tell David to warn them too!” Mara doesn’t even look at you when she speaks, you already knew the drill after having known her and the others for so many years.

A car screeches to a stop right next to you, the door opening as Kat, your best friend since high school, jumps out and runs over to you all screaming incoherently.

“EEE! My girls!!! My best girls!!!” She manages to wrap all of you in her arms and squeezes you so tight, you begin to question if you’ll even make it to the wedding without some kind of breathing tool. Her soon-to-be husband steps out as well.

“H-Hi, Dav-id!” You squeak as Lena’s hug gets even tighter. You and your –breathless– friends endure the pain of friendship while David gets their luggage. He chuckles as he walks over to you all.

“Honey, you’re killing your friends.” He says, jokingly… you think.

“10 more seconds!” Lena shouts. David looks at each of you, smiling.

“We’ll remember all of you well, what kinda of graves do you want?” He jokes. Lena finally lets go and playfully smacks David on his arm.

“Yeah yeah, can’t a girl be happy to see her best friends?” She looks over at all of you, still smiling as wide as ever. You, Mara, Wanda and Shawn are hunched over, gasping for air as quietly, and gratefully, as possible. You hold out one of your hands.

“Good to see you in person again.” you pant. David gives you a half-hug so as not to make breathing even harder for you.

“I think you realigned my chakra with that hug.” Wanda groans.

“Which one?” Mara asks. Wanda pauses for a moment, still panting.

“All of them?” She answers. David continues giving hugs before kissing Lena on her forehead and wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I think that might just be your spine shifting back into place.” Shawn points.

“So, how was the flight over here? Nothing too bad, I hope.” David asks. You talk with them as you bring your luggage inside the hotel. All of you had a relatively quick and painless flight, ignoring your bag almost breaking open twice and Wanda needing to replace hers in the airport when it broke after the first layover. Mara and Shawn were all set and helped her pick out better suitcases. At one point, Mara offered to hold some of your things in her bag. It’s not that either of them traveled light, Shawn noted, they just packed more efficiently than you. You stuck your tongue out at her for that.

As you each receive your room keys, you hear the revolving door swirl. David looks over and waves to a small group of men, all dressed in mostly dark clothes despite the summer heat. One of them is absolutely huge with a beard, the next three are relatively similar in size and height, their eyes dark as they walked just a bit behind the older man. You recognize one of them but you can’t remember how. He holds your gaze until David begins introducing them.

“Ladies, I’d like you to meet my sweet old Captain.” He smiles as you all chuckle amongst yourselves. The man eyes David before shaking each of your hands.

“Call me Merrick. If you ever want to hear any stories about David, let me know. I suddenly have plenty to share.” Your group giggles as David deadpans and rolls his eyes before introducing the next man to come up.

“This is Keegan “The Smoothtalker” Russ, he and Merrick both worked with my dad a while back before the Federation. One of the most reliable men I know.” Keegan walks forward to shake your hands as well.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” his voice is even deeper than Merrick’s, “I hope I can make your night as well.” You notice he holds onto Mara’s hand a bit longer than everyone else’s, he stares directly into her eyes. Mara doesn’t shrink at all despite his intimidating aura.

“I’d like to see you try, tough guy.” She shoots back. Keegan smirks as he steps back into his original spot. Mara doesn’t usually flirt, but when she does, it’s honestly inspirational.

David moves on to the next man, he bares some resemblance to David, actually. Wait…

“This is my brother, Logan, the first most reliable man I know.” He doesn’t say anything. Your friends offer a small wave, while you stare.

“Long time no see, Logan.” You say, smiling. He nods, smirk on his face, while David moves on. The next man is a little shorter than Keegan and Logan, but seems somewhat more approachable.

“This is Kick, the biggest nerd I know but another one of the most reliable men I know.” Kick rolls his eyes and steps forward to shake everyone’s hands.

“You may not know this but Hesh- er- David,” He corrects, “is unintentionally the funniest man I know.”

“Thanks, Kick–”

“I mean you should see him whenever he faceplants on the field after slipping, it’s like a cartoon. He gets up and it’s like he got a mud mask.” You all giggle as Kick walks back with his head high and David bites his lip as his ears turn pink.

“Don’t suppose you have pictures?” Shawn asks, Kick shakes his head but smiles.

“If I get any, I’ll send them to you right away.” David is gritting his teeth at this point.

“Okay, hun, do you wanna introduce your friends?” Lena brings her hands together, excited.

“Oh yeah! David and Logan already know her but,” She introduces you first. “She’s my best friend since high school! And this is Mara “The Baddie” Williams, and Wanda “The Mind Reader” Stevens and Shawn, who’s a nerd too! But it’s cool when she does it.”

“Interesting names. So, what qualifies you as a nerd?” Kick asks, amused.

“I did computer science and engineering in my first four years of college, then went back for my masters in computer science and I’m working on my doctoral, at the moment. I think she just calls me a nerd because I’m doing an ‘unnecessary amount of school’.” Shawn explains. Kick nods, appreciatively.

“What do you- you guys do?” Shawn seems nervous suddenly.

“I’m an IT specialist, so I also work with computers a lot.” Kick answers immediately. Shawn nods, smiling an awful lot more than usual.

“Cool, cool… and, uh, you guys?”

“As Hesh pointed out, I am apparently a ‘sweet’ and ‘old’ Captain. My job is working with these assholes and others like them.”

“Jury’s still out on the ‘sweet’ part, but everything else, yeah. I’m one of the assholes he works with, sadly.” Keegan says with a straight face.

“Same thing for Logan and I, just a couple assholes trying to make the world a better place.”

“I knew it, I’m surrounded by assholes.” Shawna jokes. Wanda turns to her.

“Did you actually just make a Spaceballs reference? Right now?”

“It is a good movie.” Kick admits.

“See, he agrees with me so it must be correct.” Shawna and Wanda bicker about the film. Lena claps her hands to get everyone's attention.

“Okay, why don’t we get our keys and head to our rooms before dinner and we can relax a bit and explore the hotel.” She suggests. As she finishes, the rotating door slides as more soldiers enter and fill up the lobby, some passing by David and clapping him on the back.

“I gotta stay here to help everyone else get comfortable, but you guys go on ahead.” David and Lena share a quick kiss before she turns. She pulls out her key card and excitedly ran off and then ran back to grab her luggage and waved goodbye.

“It was nice to meet you all! See you at dinner!” With the weight of her luggage, it was more of a speed walk. You and the girls wave goodbye and follow her to the big elevator centered in the lobby. As you walk, you feel eyes on you. Once you get to the elevator and wait, you look around. It doesn’t take much to find out what’s wrong. You look back over towards David and see Logan staring in your direction. You hold his gaze for a moment and force yourself to wave at him. He just looks away, focusing on whatever David is talking about with his group.

You ignore the interaction (if you can even call it that) and join into the conversation your friends are having. Lena is explaining the schedule while Shawna corrects her.

“Okay, so! We have dinner at 6:30! It’s like noon right now-”

“It’s 1:30.”

“Same thing! So, I got a room for all of us to share so we can be roommates!”

“Like it’s college again!” Wanda interjects.

All of you file into the elevator and go to your shared room. There’s five beds spread out amongst the room. The bathroom includes a separate bath and shower with multiple baskets of travel size toiletries lined along the side of the bathtub. You all set down your luggage beside one of the beds and sit down on the soft mattress and plush covers, talking amongst yourselves while you clean up for dinner.

After a few hours, you head down to the hotel restaurant. There were many tables filled already by David’s military friends. Him, Logan and his friends you met earlier sit at one table amongst their peers while Lena leads you to a different table that’s within their view. Logan can easily just stare directly at you from his spot which is exactly what he’s doing. When you look at him, you see the smile on his face. You almost immediately feel the weight of possible insults he could throw at you.

When you were younger, you knew the Walker boys when they attended the same middle school as you on the east coast since their family was moving around a lot at the time before going back to San Diego. While Logan was quiet then, he still managed to make silent jokes at your expense. He’d rest his elbow on your head or bend his knees or hunch over dramatically to highlight the height difference between you two at the time. One time, he saw a chihuahua being walked by its owner and pointed at it then pointed at you before patting your head and continuing to walk beside David, their longer strides made it hard for you to catch up.

None of those jokes seem to come from him now but it left an imprint at the time that was apparently enough to make you self-conscious in front of him these days.

Maybe I should’ve worn heels, you thought.

Whatever, it's too late now. Lena put her purse down in her chair.

“I’ll be right back!” and she scurried off to see David. Their happiness is worth it. You can get through the dinner. You and your friends take a look at the menu. Before long, everyone’s ordering and drinking together. Lena’s since returned from the other table and excitedly talks about the hotel. “It’s so nice, I can’t wait to explore it with all of you. I think I heard they have an arcade room somewhere.” As everyone talks, your phone buzzes.

Unknown Number: Can you tell Lena I said thank you for giving me your number?

Who the fu-

You look up at Logan again. That same damn smile on his face, phone in hand. His smile looks so damn genuine but you can’t help but feel like it’s fake. You look at Lena.

“You gave him my number?!” You whisper yell.

“Oh yeah! He asked me for it and I thought ‘Why not’, so now you guys can catch up a bit while everything’s going on.”

As much as you want to grab her by the shoulders and shake her silly, you can’t. She was trying to be nice and this was something for you to take up with him yourself, like an adult. You exhale through your nose and show her the text.

“He wanted me to say thanks.” You chuckle. You refuse to ruin her mood in any way on the week of her wedding, especially if she’s done nothing wrong. She smiles and turns to look at Logan, bringing two thumbs up which he returns. You bite your tongue and type in his name for the contact before typing more.

You: It’s rude to text during dinner

Logan Walker: Tell that to Kick and your friend.

With wrinkled brows, you look up at your table and see Shawn typing which is strange because Shawn’s the one who reminds everyone of table etiquette. You look between Kick and Shawn, remembering their interaction earlier. Oh?

“Shawn, what happened to your table manners?” You ask, trying not to smile. She looks up with wide eyes, suddenly shy again.

“Oh! Sorry, I, um…” Her phone buzzes. Lena finished sipping her wine.

“Guilty, I may or may not have given Kick her number too!” Lena chimes in.

“It’s been like 5 minutes and you’re already forgetting table manners? Okay, Shawn, I see you.” Shawn flushes at your comment and finishes a quick text before putting her phone away, smiling at Kick who sees her and smiles back.

“Done now! So, what were we talking about?” Shawn’s face is still red as she attempts to shift the conversation. As Mara and Wanda poke and prod, your phone vibrates.

Logan Walker: Since it’s so rude, I’ll text you after dinner.

You: Much appreciated

Logan Walker: But before I do, I just wanted to say you look nice tonight.

You: I feel a joke coming on

Logan Walker: A joke?

You: Nevermind

You shove your phone in your bag and get back to the conversation at hand. Not too long after, dinner is served. You share laughs and drinks, as well as small bites of your gourmet meals. Afterwards, dessert is served. You can’t tell which course you enjoyed more but both taste like heaven.

When the night is over, everyone heads back to their rooms, aside from Lena and David who spend some time together away from their “roommates”. You sit in bed, showered and ready to sleep when you remember the texts. You pick up your phone and read.

Logan Walker: So what did you mean by joke?

You: You remember in middle school when you’d always make fun of my height

Logan Walker: Oh.

The hell does “Oh.” mean?

Logan Walker: And you thought I was gonna make fun of you tonight?

You: I was expecting it yeah

Logan Walker: I meant what I said earlier.

Logan Walker: I didn’t realize I bothered you so much back then.

You wait a few seconds, seeing three dots appear and disappear a couple times.

Logan Walker: I’m sorry.

He’s apologizing? You debate your response in your head.

You: Thanks

Logan Walker: I’ll let you be, it’s late. I’ll see you at brunch tomorrow.

Logan Walker: Don’t be late.

You: I am never late

Logan Walker: You were late to dinner.

You: I was right on time!

Logan Walker: In the military, if you aren’t early, you’re late.

You: The bride decides the time of arrival

Logan Walker: You made that up.

You: You’re applying a military “rule” to civilians

Logan doesn’t respond for a few seconds. You don’t see any dots.

You: I got you there

You: Goodnight mr sergeant walker sir

You immediately put down your phone smiling to yourself as though you just broke a rule in an elementary school class on purpose and feel that little rush of doing something “bad”. If your friends weren’t sleeping, you’d probably be giggling or some shit like a damn schoolgirl. As you roll over on your side, ready to sleep, you realize something. Logan Walker made you smile. You go to bed feeling warm and fuzzy.

You wake up the next morning to Lena shaking you awake before she moves on to the others. You collectively get ready and head out by 10:30 for brunch. Before the doors open, you swear you can already smell the food. You eat in the same restaurant area of the hotel as you did last night. While the tables remain in the same spots, the room has brought in more tables, all divided into sections where chefs make and serve food. You can even see the spice racks hanging on the walls that must’ve been moved in here. As everyone moves throughout the room, you sit down with Mara and Wanda. Lena joins not too long after.

“Where’s Shawn?” She asks. Mara looks around and points, smiling. Shawn is walking around beside Kick as they talk, almost looking excited. Kick intently listens and you notice whenever he finishes talking, Shawn’s smile gets a little wider. Wanda pulls out her phone and sends a quick text before eying Shawn carefully. Shawn pulls her phone out, Kick waiting patiently. Suddenly, she looks up at your table of smirks and turns back to Kick giggling, her face already red. After a minute more of talking, they go their separate ways. You see Kick sit beside Logan and he makes a comment that has Kick rolling his eyes. Logan’s eyes turn to you and he smiles. This time you smile back at him and get to eating.

The next couple days are a blur. You and your friends explore inside and outside the hotel, hanging out in mud baths at the spa with some other ladies, and you think you see a couple men too, from the military getting massages. As much as you want one as well, they probably need it more if the content groaning you hear says anything. You’re all sure to say thank you before heading out for shopping. You already brought your bridesmaid dress, but you see a pale blue dress with flowy sleeves that you must have. You notice Mara, Shawn and Wanda have matching dresses tailored to their style and body, their dresses are nearly at the floor and the sleeves go to their wrists whereas yours stops before your elbows and the hem is a little above your ankles. They all wear a variety of darker shades of blue while yours is noticeably more pastel than theirs.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you already picked out dresses! Do they have more of those?” Lena grabs you by the shoulders, a firm grip.

“You won’t be needing to match them! In fact, it’s good you won’t.” She has another excited look on her face. Before you can ask her what wicked thing she has planned, she spreads her arms out in front of you.

“You’re my maid of honor!” Your mouth drops open. You look at the others who are all smiling almost as wide as her.

“You little shits, did you plan this?!” You know the answer and they all confirm with a nod and you squeal, giving Lena a bear hug. Both of you practically fighting to crush the other in your arms, but lovingly so. Eventually, everyone joins in.

After more shopping and spending time with your girls, you text Logan to let him know you were all heading back. The wedding was tomorrow and your favorite love birds, David and Lena, already had arrangements to make sure they didn’t see each other at least 24 hours before the wedding.

Logan Walker: Don’t worry, we have him locked in the bathroom.

You: Will that hold him?

Logan Walker: No, but this is what we’re trained for.

You: You’re trained to hold your brother in a bathroom?

Logan Walker: The army prepares us for everything.

You felt bold tonight.

You: What else are you prepared for?

Logan Walker: Can’t say, surprise attacks only work when no one expects them.

You: Are you gonna attack me?

Logan Walker: Maybe. Probably.

Logan Walker: Only if you give me a reason to.

You: Yeah ok soldier boy

You suddenly feel like you’re in trouble.

You: I’m sorry

Logan Walker: You’re in room 345, right?

You: …no

Logan Walker: You have 5 seconds to tell me the truth.

You: IM SORRY

Logan Walker: 4

You: IM INNOCENT

Logan Walker: 3

You: LOGAN NO

Logan Walker: 2

You: OKAY FINE

You: YES

You: SHIT

You: Fuckin interrogating me

Logan Walker: It’s my job.

You: Is it tho?

Logan Walker: When necessary.

You: Yeah that’s not ominous at all

You: Wedding’s tomorrow

Logan Walker: Oh, is it? I didn’t know that.

You: Yeah okay stupid comment

Logan Walker: Happens to the best of us.

You: So you admit I’m the best?

There’s a pause.

Logan Walker: Goodnight.

You: Thats a yes!

You: Im calling it a yes!

You: Im the best!

You see he’s reading your texts but not answering and decide to stop.

You: Goodnight

Before you can put your phone down, it vibrates.

Logan Walker: I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well.

And the conversation ends there.

Finally, the morning comes and Lena can’t sit still. After having to text back and forth with Logan about moving through the hotel so the couple doesn’t see one another, everyone heads out. You make it safely to the bride’s dressing room with everything you need. The hair stylist and makeup artist are already there and greet you inside. Lena’s mom has also joined to help her with the dress. Before you and the bridesmaids start getting ready, you take turns going out in casual clothes to get small snacks and water for everyone. You talk about the schedule of the day and occasionally past weddings you’ve attended.

Sometimes, Lena’s mom chimes in about her wedding, and the disaster it almost became multiple times the day of. From the makeup artist getting food poisoning when only half her face was done, the marriage officiant came in with crutches and a limp, the cake was almost destroyed when it was left somewhere in the hotel and no one knew where (keeping in mind the hotel you’re in is smaller than the even fancier hotel her mom was married in.).

As time continued going on and you all got yourselves together, it was time. Lena’s beautiful in her long white dress and veil that framed her face. Mara, Shawn and Wanda look amazing in their darker hues. Lena’s mom’s trying not to cry. And you felt pretty. Not even pretty, shit, you felt gorgeous. After thanking the makeup artist and hair stylist, you head out.

Lena and her mom walk arm in arm, David is biting his lip as he fails to contain a wide smile. You’re sure you can see tears in his eyes. You and Shawn and Mara and Wanda walk in pairs behind Lena. As Lena stands across from David, you stand on the far left side of the front with Mara, Shawn and Wanda standing to your right. You look across the way at the groomsmen. At Logan. Where your dress is lighter than the bridesmaids, his suit is lighter than his fellow groomsmen. The groomsmens suits are dull in comparison to the bridesmaids. Everyone still looks great and matches wonderfully. Logan looks so handsome. The entire time, you guys eye each other when the other looks away. Lena is crying and David is trying to hold back his tears, both still smiling at one another.

The vows and kiss are what break David, even with tears he continues smiling at his bride while everyone claps. Logan’s smiles and all of the groomsmen crowd around him as the photographer stands in the middle of the aisle. Then you, the bridesmaids and Lena take a photo as well. You spend almost another hour taking photos of everyone together in the venue before the afterparty ceremony begins. The toast and dinner seems to bring everyone even closer, you find yourself talking with a few other soldiers. Afterwards, at the cake cutting, Lena and David hold the knife together and pick out a slice. Lena swipes her finger against the knife, picking up the leftover frosting, before lightly pressing her finger onto the tip of David’s nose. He stares at her for a second before squishing his nose onto her cheek, returning the frosting. The interaction is held onto by the photographer taking pictures of the moment.

A few minutes later, David and Lena come up to you.

“So, how do you like dancing?” She asks.

“... You’re planning something again, aren’t you?” You respond, all too aware of her tendencies.

“Oh, no.”

“You’re not?”

“No. It was already planned.”

“What was planned?”

“So, the best man and maid of honor are expected to be paired for the dancing.” She’s smiling as though something mischievous has happened.

“So…” Logan appears before you can ask anything.

“Logan’s my best man. Lena was telling me about her plans for the bridesmaids dresses, so I did the same for the groomsmens suits.” David explains. Your face feels warm.

“W-Well, I’m ready when you guys are. Just, uh, say the word.”

“The word is now!” The music immediately changes to something soft and sweet. David and Lena move to the middle of the room. You and Logan stand on the opposite side of the floor to the tables. You back at Logan and do a double take when you see Kick and Shawn on the other side of Lena and David. You smile at her, her face is more red than ever. You think you see the redness goes all the way to her hands, of which Kick holds tenderly. Kick looks over and smiles at the both of you. You look back to Logan and think about the whole situation. Your best friend is getting married, your other friend apparently has a love interest, and you have some kind of maybe love interest person, kind of, possibly (good lord, even your thoughts are flustered). You see Shawn pointing towards the tables and Kick chuckles. You look over and your jaw drops.

Just off to the side of the tables, away from the dance floor, Mara leans against Keegan while he has his hands around her waist. He rests his chin on her head while she covers her face in her hands, giggling. Were all of you reduced to fits of giggles because of military men? Apparently so. As all of you chuckle to yourselves, you look at Logan. He’s smirking at you, his cheeks are a little pink.

“Hi…” You whisper, staring into his eyes.

“Hi.” He whispers back, staring back at you.

“I’m glad I saw you again, Logan.”

“Me too.” He pauses for a moment. “You still on the east coast?”

“Yeah, yeah. Never really left. It’s just my place, I guess.”

“Everyone has their place in the world.”

“I guess they do, yeah.”

“Would you mind if, after all of this, I visited?” You blink, a smile slowly creeps onto your face.

“I’d like it if you did.” Logan smiles wide and attempts to keep his cool. The flow of the conversation is interrupted by Wanda sauntering over.

“Hehe, hi guys.” Her words are almost slurred.

“Wanda, how much have you had tonight?” She pauses a moment, thinking.

“Um, I think, like, maybe a couple?”

“A couple?” You and Logan have stopped moving at this point, but your hand is still in his and his other hand remains on your hip. You’re both smiling to yourselves.

“Yeah, hehe.” Merrick walks up behind her. “Oh, hi, Captain sir!” He silently brings his arms around her stomach and lifts her just enough to get her feet off the floor, allowing him to walk away while Wanda continues her drunken giggling. You watch as he sets her down and instructs her to sit in a chair, before moving all alcoholic drinks away. She pouts looking at the cup of water that just so happens to be in front of her. You start laughing, trying to be silent so as to not draw attention away from Lena, but your fit has you putting your forehead on Logan’s chest. You feel him rumbling from his chuckles. You look back up and catch Lena laughing and directing Logan to a Merrick, who’s smirking down at the still pouting Wanda. Everyone’s happy tonight it seems. Even as the party dies down, it stays that way. Full of happiness.

~A couple months later~

You walk to your front door after hearing a firm couple of knocks. You look through the peephole and smile to yourself, heart pulsing. Opening the door, you see the man you’ve been waiting for. Logan grins, moving forward to pull you into a tight hug. His arms are always so warm, you’ve noticed.

“I missed you so much, what took so long?” You ask.

“A nearly canceled flight, traffic, there’s more if you wanna hear about it.” He answers, grabbing his luggage and bringing it in.

“Tell me everything! I’m still making dinner.” You spend the next thirty or so minutes cooking and talking, Logan talks and tastes the food intermittently. His vacation consists of exploring your town and attending special events throughout his time here. You catch up on your lives, or as much as he can tell you about. Originally, it was supposed to be two weeks of staying at your home. This changed to three, then four, and so on until Logan ended up changing his address and bringing in boxes. While he still has to leave for months at a time every once in a while, it makes seeing him worth it.

Then the day comes when he’s home for good. He stays in the state with a new job. You learn to lose the fear of losing him with every night you spend in one another's arms. Years later, you’re having your own wedding with him. Your friends wear similar bridesmaids dresses and groomsmen suits to remind yourselves of the event that led to this… the happiest moment of your life.

I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for your request. I will add this to my CoD Stories series on Ao3 @ RiversSong82

#cod logan walker #logan walker x reader #logan walker x f!reader #logan walker #cod fanfiction #cod ghosts fanfiction #cod ghosts #quill writes

39 notes · View notes

shrinkthisviolet · 1 year ago

Note

So I noticed your tags on a reblog a while ago about how you had a problem with The Flash - and I'd love to know more about what you thought of it overall (as I understand that the later seasons took something of a nosedive in quality.)

Oh boy 😅 I could go into depth about my problems with each of the seasons, but honestly, for the sake of brevity, I’m just gonna abbreviate the major problems I have for each season:

Season 1

—Iris should’ve been looped in sooner, especially given how many times she was put in danger by not knowing

—The waterfront kiss and the lightning psychosis bs is stupid—I’m glad the first thing was erased, and I try to ignore the second thing. There’s nothing romantic/funny about cheating or justifying it

—Eowells should’ve been killed off normally, not by being erased from existence (because?? How does the timeline still exist??)

Season 2

—Zoom’s motives were incoherent, and he’s only a good villain because of his menace factor

—Wally and Jesse should’ve both gotten powers from the accelerator, not just Jesse

—Jesse should’ve had Zoom-related trauma that impacted her ability (and desire) to be a speedster in s3

—Eliza Harmon should’ve been a WOC like in the comics, and she deserved a better storyline, and she deserved to live, yes I’m still mad about this.

Season 3

—Savitar. In general. Wtf (existence makes no sense, him being a wannabe god instead of just Future Barry is boring, and also he was only interesting in the finale. By which point he should’ve been dead anyway. Also there’s no mf way he could’ve actually killed Iris bffr)

—Killer Frost. Incoherent—her siding with Savitar makes sense with the s4/s5 retcons (though it still kneecaps her as a villain by making her a lackey), but those are from seasons when she regressed as a character imo. Also I never liked the split personality idea

—Iris being the only one at risk means there are no stakes because she’s the main female lead and would never really be killed off (it would've been especially bad optics for the CW considering they intentionally cast a WOC as Iris). All of Team Flash should’ve been at stake, with the possibility teased that they might disband permanently.

—Flashpoint was wasted potential and tbh should’ve happened after s1. Or at least, it should’ve been more deeply explored here. But in any case, it feels cheap to have this after Barry already fully came to terms with his mom’s death in s2 (I know, it was grief over his dad, but still. It undercuts a fantastic episode)

—The time loop setup is nonsensical and impossible. Breaking it means that s3 never happened. No one should remember anything that happened this season.

—Caitlin and/or Frost never apologized to Iris for being an accessory in her attempted murder (and in s4, Frost threatens her life again!! Yay!! Friendly bonding!! / s)

Season 4

—Can someone tell me why tf Team Leader suddenly became a thing? I swear the closest the Team ever had to a Team Leader was Eowells, way back in s1. The idea of a Team Leader after that feels too hierarchal for them, idk why that was introduced

—Caitlin worked with a human trafficker of her own volition (and Frost too, this was presumably a decision made by both of them) and yet she is only held accountable in one line (“Where have you been the last 6 months again?”) and it’s quickly swept over by making Amunet into a ditz and ignoring the fact that she is a human trafficker

—Bodyswap plot was weird, DeVoe should’ve just taken their powers

—Marlize never had any clear motives after she gave up her ideals to side with her husband.

—The Thinker in general is just stupid tbh

—Caitlin and Iris barely got to be friends, and after this season, they may as well not have been. Caitlin was also unnecessarily snippy to Iris this season too (“we will, Caitlin” “no. I will” + “I’m your friend, Caitlin” “work friend”). This is a general problem with this show—female friendships are given lip service at best and no room to grow

—Barry and Iris deserved a proper wedding that wasn't interrupted

—Thawne did not hate every minute of pretending to be Harrison Wells, that is garbage writing and fundamentally misunderstands his character

—Barry should've killed Thawne in this crossover. He was so close!! WHY (and they still could've brought him back later if they really needed to)

Season 5

—Both Cicadas sucked, and the father-daughter Orlin-Grace/Barry-Nora parallels fall flat when you remember that a) Dwyer literally hates Grace until she’s comatose and b) those parallels only get mentioned in one conversation

—I wasn't too fond of Cisco giving up his powers, it felt like a strange decision, especially since he gets them back briefly in Crisis and somewhat permanently in s7. I've talked about that more here (definitely read all the additions too!)

—Iris’s angle in the argument with Barry should’ve been “no one works with Thawne, they’re manipulated by him” not “it doesn’t bother me that our daughter worked with the man who half-orphaned you, threatened my life, hurt everyone on this Team, and killed my fiancé”

—Nora acts wayyy too young for being 25-28. She should’ve been 18-20. She very much gives off the vibes of a young adults who’s newly independent (and this further ties into the themes of legacy, which is a theme usually present in YA stories, with teenage/young-adult protagonists. Obviously the theme of legacy can be present in any story, but this presentation of it is usually prominent in YA stories)

—Nora having the NSF should’ve occurred at the end of s5, not during 5x20. Would’ve been more poignant if she had to choose between keeping it and becoming Thawne, or giving it up and dying a hero 😭 and her having the NSF in canon came across more as a temper tantrum than her being corrupted by a destructive force.

(Hey also why tf do people remember Nora after she’s erased—)

Season 6

—Loved Iris having a fleshed-out journalism arc, especially going forward, but her journalism career should’ve been reintroduced a while ago. Possibly even in s4 (beyond just a scant mention of her writing an article about DeVoe)

—Thawne should’ve been in Crisis. Especially over Lex mf Luthor

—The Mirroverse arc is…ugh. I don’t love the idea of Iris being replaced with an evil alter and no one noticing for an entire half-season. And an important Westallen conversation about Iris’s agency happening with Mirror Iris, not real Iris!

—Mirror Iris had sex with Barry under false pretenses (this is rape by deception). And gloated about it. But five minutes later, we’re supposed to feel sorry for her?? Yikes

And now we’re on to my least favorite seasons! Not a lot of points here, but that’s because out of all the bad stuff, I’m just picking the egregiously bad stuff:

Season 7

—Iris being saved by an emotionless Barry is weird, and they both deserved better than that

—Chillame is the worst character this show has ever made. Or at least the top 5

—Eva is a dumb villain who wasn’t even compelling to watch. She was very one-note and…I don’t even remember her motive??

—The Forces arc is bizarre. I don’t like how they personified literal forces of nature, it’s dumb. And them calling Barry and Iris “Mom” and “Dad” is worse

—Frost’s arrest storyline was bs. I was honestly kinda excited, because I hoped she’d face some consequences for the stuff she did in s3 and s4, but…nope!! Kramer’s a bad guy who hates all metas!! And Frost (a white woman) gives a speech modeled after the BLM movement!! It’s gross.

—idk much about Godspeed in the comics, but he was definitely done dirty here. And that’s not even mentioning the stupid lightsaber fight…and the fact that Barry just…lets Thawne go?? And says “yeah, he’ll be back one day, but that’s Future Us’s problem.” Speaking of which…

Season 8

—Well, well, well, if it isn’t the consequence of Barry Allen’s actions. We get Armageddon, which is compelling for the first half and drops off in the second half. The logic is faulty (how is Barry the RF when Thawne killed him as a kid? Why does Iris love Thawne just because he’s the Flash?), some of the stuff in this arc is arophobic (“why don’t you love love?”) and tbh the Chester/Allegra romance is very forced, I’m not a fan. Cecile trying to one-up Iris regarding grieving Joe was also very gross

—Iris’s time sickness is so ridiculous. It started back in s7, but the show acts like it started in s8 because of the Negative Forces. It’s awful and it’s another excuse to rob Iris of agency. It should’ve just been a pregnancy…or scrapped entirely

—So regarding Caitlin's grief and Barry's response...honestly, so many problems would be solved if these characters consistently went to therapy, especially Caitlin. She always reacts to grief destructively. Barry, however, shouldn't have responded by destroying everything in her lab instead of...idk relocating her and having a talk somewhere else??

—No, Barry would not be a bad person for killing Thawne after he thought Iris was already dead. Personally, I think he should've killed the mf ages ago

Season 9

—Red Death was underwhelming, that’s all I have to say about it

—why tf is Chillame still here

—Khione deserved to make her own decisions and not be forced to die for Caitlin and/or Frost to live…but also, as a character, she’s very bland. I also skipped any episode where she and Chillame were even remotely romantic, mostly for my own sanity

—I was so excited for the finale arc and it did not deliver!! It flopped real hard!! Eddie is turned evil so fast it made my head spin, the return of prior villains was underwhelming (including their defeats...why tf did Allegra defeat Thawne?? Why did Cecile defeat Godspeed?? Why did Nora defeat Savitar with one stab wound not even piercing the armor??), and the resolution is just...hugging it out?? I guess??

And that's about it as far as major critiques go 😅 if anyone wants me to expand on any of these points, I'm happy to!

(Except the s7-s9 stuff, which I don't even plan on including in my Morgan AU because those seasons are honestly so bad that I'd rather forget about them entirely. I don't like s3 much, but at least it has potential that I'm interested in revamping/exploring)

#the flash #i swear i tried to make this short 😅#in my defense it WAS originally much longer but i trimmed it down to the major grievances without most of the rambling #anti killer frost #anti caitlin snow #(just in case. since i do rant about her quite a bit)#anti mark blaine

17 notes · View notes