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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

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Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

#danny speaks in formal english when he's pissed. he goes full on 'i shall eat his heart in the marketplace' levels of formal #not quite a ficlet not quite a post talking about the idea but a secret third option: its both of these at the same time #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp au #dpxdc au #dcdp #dpdc au #dp dc crossover #older brother danny #danny is an asshole with a heart of gold #the writing feels all over the place but since its not a fic i dont feel that self conscious about it lol. very much spitballing here #morally gray danny fenton #poc danny fenton #look ellie MIGHt - and thats a big if - have gotten away with the cousin lie if it weren't for the fact that she's danny's clone #danny who is not white nor remotely white-passing in this au. she might have gotten away if he had been and she claimed she was #from jack's side of the family. but alas. danny is adopted. the fentons are whiter than sunscreen. and danny is not.#dani and danny's meeting in danyal al ghul aus have the potenial of being IMMEDIATE dumpster fires which is very funny to me #on the basis of if danny knows he's adopted or not and if dani claims to be related directly to him or to jack.#dani: im your third cousin once removed :)#danny. is adopted: i kNOW YOU LYING. CUZ YO LIPS ARE MOVING #i got fanart for this au on haunting heroes discord and it kickstarted my thoughts about danyal again. they gave him the BATWING EYEBROWS #ellie has the batwing eyebrows too that was the mind killer thats what fucked her over /j. those are UNIQUELY BRUCE WAYNE BROWS FOLKS #fuck i wish tumblr told us on laptop when we run out of tags because i just lost like 4 of them. good thing i got screenies those were FUNN

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wildgeese98 · 3 months

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It's kind of unfortunate that the only bit of characterization for original! Elias that's widely talked about is him being a stoner. It's true that for a long time that's literally the only thing we got. One funny throwaway line. But we do learn a bit more in mag 193 (one of my favorite s5 episodes incidentally) and it makes him a much more interesting and tragic character.

Elias was an aimless rich kid trying and failing to live up to his father's high expectations for him. He was raised to believe that he deserved success and power simply because of the family he was born into. It's implied that this alienated him from his piers leaving him incredibly isolated. It probably also meant he didn't have a lot of control over his own life, following the path he was expected to rather than what he acctually wanted. Even before being marked by the Eye he probably felt like was constantly watched and judged, and found wanting.

The statement draw heavy parallels between original! Elias and Jon. In fact the line between them gets very blurred as Jon "plays" Elias in the statement and Elias's VA plays Jonah in the body of James Wright. Jon and Elias are both parallels and opposites. They were both marked and drawn to the Institute by that mark.

Elias had the conviction that he was destined to be important and he was right the most perverse, twisted way possible. He was only ever there to be used and used completely. To the point were he ceased to be, leaving only his body to puppeted by Jonah.

Jon had no such conviction, and yet he became literally the most import person in the world. But that was only after being moulded and completely reshaped by Jonah. He in a way lost almost as much autonomy and control of his body as Elias did. Though he at least got to keep his mind, for the most part.

This has gotten away from me a bit, but the point remains. Elias, like a lot of TMA characters, is a fascinating person who we only get to see brief snatches of. I think about him a lot. I especially think about how horrifying it must have been to realize, for the briefest moment, that his mind and body were being completely taken over, right before his consciousness was snuffed out.

#tma #elias bouchard #original elias bouchard #jonah magnus #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #i did acctually write a fic about Elias getting bodysnatched by Jonah but im so very self conscious about my writing #im not gonna link it but my ao3 name is similar to my username so u could probably dig it up of u really wanted to

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wilteddreamsofbaldursgate · 2 months

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Thinking about Astarion having to deal with his reclaimed mortality once the initial euphoria of it is wearing off:

When he’s startled from sleep, woken by his own racing heartbeat.

Him jumping at the movement in the corner of his eye, only to find it’s just his own reflection staring right back at him, puzzled, before he watches his cheeks redden with embarrassment.

The sun slowly losing its appeal as time goes on because Astarion keeps getting nasty sunburns after days spent outside, trying to make up for centuries confined to darkness. Whenever he comes home with itching skin and drenched in sweat, he finds himself almost missing hiding in the shadows.

The odd sensation of feeling more and less at the same time: while some of his senses are now dulled to better suit mortality, others feel heightened to the point of sensory overload—a gust of wind feels like fire licking at his skin and he gets so very anxious whenever he loses Tav in the crowd, unable to distinguish them by the once divine scent of their blood any longer.

Since he has a reliant supply of his own blood pumping through his veins now, he’s feeling aroused so much easier and more often than not at quite inconvenient times. He enjoyed having sex with Tav before, but now that he’s mortal again, he finds that he’s having to overthink intimacy once again—where his desires used to be driven by burning hunger, lust now feels like a pleasant, more natural bodily reaction. Having to seriously consider contraceptive measures, should his partner be able to get pregnant, is also a rather novel experience for him.

Bathing still feels as good as before, at least. But where he spent hours in the bathroom out of pointless vanity then, Astarion now has to wash himself because his body would stink of sweat and, well, life otherwise. It will be years before he openly excuses himself for having to use the bathroom whenever nature calls.

And food—food would be the hardest to adjust to. It takes a lot of trial and error to find something that pleases his virgin taste buds (although he swears there’re some odd pieces of memories flashing in front of his eyes whenever he's snacking on wild strawberries or awfully sweet citron tarts). He ends up acquiring a taste for raw cookie dough, shredded cheese and sardines, eating little else for the next two years or so. To everyone's astonishment, he's gotten food poisoning only once or twice.

Astarion is no stranger to pain or injury, but he’s appalled by how long it takes to recover from the most minor cuts and bruises. It’s a well-kept secret between him and Tav that his first common cold had him convinced he was dying for a fortnight straight.

Crying is much easier now, too.

Ironically, it’s mortality that forces Astarion to strive for more permanent, detail-oriented plans for the future. Now that life is finite, he wants to use the time he has wisely. He might keep travelling the realms until he breathes his last, or settle down, eventually. He might learn a new profession or accumulate some wealth in less honest ways. Maybe, one day, he wants to have a family, heirs to whatever he decides to make his own.

Once Astarion has come to terms with being a mortal elf again, he realises living is not just about a beating heart. Living is about having endless possibilities but limited time. Choices and decisions that lead to only one thing: death.

Now that Astarion is living again, he finally understands that death is just another part of the journey.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #astarion headcanons #bg3 astarion #baldur’s gate 3 #I know vampires can technically sire children #but to me it feels like that would be a more conscious choice with the blood drinking and all #emicha writes #long post #tw: food

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bidisastersanji · 6 months

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Thanks to everyone who screamed in the tags and asked for a part two of the Roronoa “I learned French just to overhear if my crush likes men” Zoro” story. 🤡 Part one here. And a million thanks to @inoreuct for the help 🙏 You can also read it on AO3 here if you prefer. Edit: Part three here, part four here

---

"WHY ARE SWORDS WOMEN!???"

"Calm down, Roronoa. They’re not women, they’re just a feminine word."

Zoro digs the palm of his hands into his eyes, hunching over the big dinner table in this godforsaken mansion on this godforsaken island. How had it come to this? He was supposed to be training to become the world’s greatest swordsman … and here he was. Stuck learning inanimate objects’ stupid imaginary gender and whatever the hell kind of tense “ plus-que-parfait ” (more-than-perfect) is.

Scattered around him are French grammar, spelling and exercise books, loose papers and empty glasses of wine. Sadly, not his own. His stupid dad mentor had decided that he was banned from drinking from his private cellars until daily lessons had ended.

Dracule Mihawk. Hawkeye. Renowned monster powerhouse, the world’s greatest swordsman, a feared warlord…is sat in reading glasses, correcting his pronunciation and teaching him the most vexing language on the planet: French.

“Are you quite finished making a scene? I’ve stopped talking exclusively French to you for many months now. Be grateful.”

Zoro presses his lips together tightly to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. It wouldn’t do him or his crew any good to lose this opportunity to learn from the best. After the salt-shaker incident, Mihawk, quickly followed by Perona-who only wishes misery upon him- only responded to him if he spoke his broken French to them and would only speak to him in that tongue in return. His already impossibly difficult swords lessons… challenges? Whatever one would call the hellish training regimens the warlord put him through became even more impossible now that he couldn’t even understand the instructions. After a few too many close calls and instances of French being shouted at him louder and louder (saying it louder won’t make him magically understand), Mihawk changed tactics and decided to teach him the academic way instead, in the evenings after supper. Suppers which definitely didn’t leave him longing for someone else’s cooking.

Supposedly surprised at his silence (with this man, there’s no way to really tell for sure what could be going through his mind), Mihawk lowers his glasses and takes a long look at him. “And how is your reading coming along?”

Seated across from him and eating her dessert, Perona gives a loud snort, choking a bit on her strawberry shortcake. Her ever-present floating ghosts laugh a little louder, covering her badly stifled laughter as she purses her lips.

Zoro glares daggers at her, neck and ears flushing intensely. “It’s going… fine .”

In reality, his reading isn’t going “fine”. The Manor’s entire west wing is filled to the brim with the most boring, coma-inducing, self-aggrandising books on philosophy, French cuisine, land management, architecture and theology, all written in chicken scratch, old timey French. Zoro had tried his hand at reading one that seemed perhaps less bad than the others, but on his tenth try at staying awake on reading the third page describing the gothic stone arches of a church- he gave up. It felt more painstaking to spend one more second looking at another page of that book than getting sliced open by Mihawk so many months ago.

In the pits of his désespoir, his guard was down, and his alarm bells didn’t ring when Perona innocently approached him and handed him a book that looked markedly different from the rest of Mihawk’s collection. At a second glance, he realized that he’d seen that book on Sanji’s hammock-side barrel before, recognizing the distinctive lettering of “Harlequin editions” on the spine.

“Here. I’m taking pity on you. Mihawk has a secret stash of these in his personal library. They’re easier to read and will get the job done. You need to meet a quota of one a week, right?”

Out of options, Zoro silently accepted the book and retreated to his quarters. If it was good enough for the cook (and Perona?), it would be good enough for him.

His suspicions should have risen from the moment he recognised it was a work of fiction- unlike every single book he’d come across here. But no , studious mindset activated and with a dictionary on hand for any word he might not know, it took him longer than he’d care to admit to realise this was a romance book. And not just any romance book- a ludicrously explicit book detailing many, many scandalous trysts between a dark, mysterious, broody vampire and his parade of beautiful, lithe and oh-so-flirtatious nobles of all genders. He had to stop and put the book down several times, too flustered from explicit descriptions of passionately taking people against cold stone walls, bending them over various pieces of antique furniture and even tying them to extravagant four poster beds. It was too much for the poor swordsman to handle.

It was mainly the thought of the pervy cook reading this… it stirred something low within him, his thoughts running wild at the natural implication that the scenarios held within the worn pages- the rough, possessive, teasing, kinky and playful sexual acts- were all things that Sanji had read. And enjoyed. Multiple times if his memory served him right. Sanji owned this book, which meant that this was something that… aroused him. Face like a furnace and heart beating wildly, Zoro tugged at his hair, unable to cope with this new information nor the inappropriate thoughts and images his mind was conjuring involving a certain sharp-tongued blonde, his powerful thighs and unfairly biteable neck. He could almost see his fiery blue eye boring adversarially into his own, a cheeky smirk that was just begging to be kissed off-

Zoro snapped the book shut.

Fuck .

After an uncomfortably sweaty night and a glacial shower, it was only at breakfast that further implications finally clicked for the rattled swordsman. The lewd book had come, as Perona had put it, from Mihawk’s secret stash .

One: the book was Mihawk��s. That dawning realisation alone froze Zoro mid-chew, and he decided then and there that he would never be able to look the older man in the eye ever again. At least not in the same way.

I know what you are

It wasn’t difficult to make the connection between the book’s owner, a pale, recluse, wine drinking man in a manor and the book’s main vampire. Two: this was from a stash . Meaning there would be many, many more of these books in the manor. Three, because of the nature of his mentor’s “official” library (unreadable), he will de facto have to keep reading bodice-rippers for well over a year and inevitably assimilate the raunchiest, most useless lexicon known to man, in what some people call the language of love. Wonderful. Despite himself, Zoro knew he’d already memorized at least three different ways to refer to male genitalia, and that was just from reading one of those little fuckers.

Weeks, months pass, and boy had Zoro been right. And annoyingly, so had Mihawk, on how reading would drastically improve his French. (If Robin could see him now…) The smutty books came and went, courtesy of Perona, and his reliance on his dictionary diminished. As the books’ premises plunged deeper and deeper into unspeakable domains, Zoro made the firm decision to stop asking questions. For the sake of his sanity. He never again wanted Perona to share her thoughts on the "thematic beauty of the monster fucker genre". He would never fully recover from the hour-long exposé she made him on ABO dynamics. Nor could he ever recover from the knowledge that all these novels came from Dracule Mihawk’s private library .

He now knew way too much about Mihawk's kinks and sexual tastes in men, and he wished to believe in a god so he could pray to never have to address this with the man within his life. Ever.

Which is why he's currently sweating bullets at Mihawk's inquiry into his latest reads, and why Perona is looking at him like the cat that ate the canary.

Eyes darting between his two guests, the warlord's lips tug at their corners in something resembling a smile.

"I take it you haven't found the sword fighting books yet then?"

The what.

Zoro promptly chokes on his saliva, coughing aggressively into his fist, his remaining eye bulging in surprise.

"Yes, did Perona not tell you? All the baking books in the French cuisine section actually hold sword forms and techniques. My boy, what have you been reading?"

—/

Sanji had maybe had just a few too many drinks tonight. His face feels warm, his limbs are nice and relaxed- if still a bit sore from the battle- and his tongue is a little loose. He knows it's one too many when it takes him a couple of sentences to realise he and Robin are speaking French together, and he's grateful for the unconscious switch when he faintly registers that Zoro is sat not very far, by himself, just across the campfire.

That was a close one.

Robin prods him for more information on his one-night stands, and who is he to deny a lady, really? He feels the words spill from his mouth like boiling water overflowing from a pot. He hears his voice confess a truth he's not let himself face for years and blames the wine.

"En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants... c'est qu'ils ne sont jamais...assez. "

The cook swims in half-forgotten memories of one night stands he sought out on lonely evenings at random ports. Of fumbling hands and desperate kisses, of leaving before the sun has even risen, of cold sheets and empty beds in the morning... Sanji doesn't like the bitter taste his admittance leaves in his mouth, nor the way his chest feels just a little tighter. He knows what his love-starved self really wants, what he craves most of all... is the stupidly perfect man sitting across the fire. Like a moth to a flame, he yearns to know what it would feel like. To matter . To be seen in all his flawed, weak existence, and not be thrown aside like the mistake he is. To be loved , cared for, cherished tenderly by someone as earnest and devoted as he knows the swordsman to be. It's with a bleeding heart that he finally voices his love, answering Robin on what would be enough.

"Lui. "

His finger taps the ash off his cigarette before taking another long, long drag. Forlorn, he tears his gaze away from Zoro and nearly startles at the sincere warmth he sees dancing in the archeologist's eyes.

"Tu devrais lui dire ."

(You should tell him.)

Sanji laughs at that. "Mais bien sûr. J'vais me lever, me planter devant lui et tout lui avouer. "

(But of course. I'll get up, walk right up to him and confess everything.)

A beat. Robin impassively stares back at him. Sanji knows being a devil fruit eater isn't the only similarity between her and their captain. Their stubbornness is something he knows not to underestimate. He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink down. He must be out of his goddamn mind. And maybe a little drunker than he thought he was.

"Je ne sais pas te dire non, ma chère Robin." She smiles. "Mais saches que tu n'as pas précisé dans quelle langue je devais lui parler. "

(I don't know how to say no to you, my dear Robin. But please note that you didn't specify the language I should speak to him in.)

Before she can charm him into switching to a language the Marimo understands, the cook is already skirting around the fire with slightly wobbly steps. If he can just keep his tone right, tinged with a bit of anger, then he can probably pull this off, he thinks.

“You.” He points at Zoro accusingly.

The mosshead turns to face him, an unreadable expression on his face. “Me?”

Sanji doesn’t linger on it, all his mental capacity concentrating on making sure he uses French at the right moments.

“Yes, you fucking ange tombé du ciel , I have some words for you. Some mots doux if you will, so just sit tight and listen. You owe me after I saved your ass earlier.”

(Angel fallen from heaven; sweet words)

Surprised that Zoro doesn’t contradict him on the “saving his ass” part, he doesn’t stop to think and squashes the little voice inside him that questions why he’s going through with this.

Sanji fully planned on a heartfelt rant about all the idiot swordsman’s qualities- how unfair it is that he has it all. He really did. but he also feels a sudden shyness overtake him now that he’s standing in front of the idiot in question. To look Zoro in the eyes while saying such embarrassing, emotional shit won't do, and Sanji’s eyes make the mistake of looking down- only to be met with the tantalising sight of a broad, scarred chest and crossed arms that do nothing to hide the strong, corded muscle underneath. Oh, f uck me. His fake annoyance becomes partially real.

"Enfoiré! comment jsuis supposé te résister, hein? " He indignantly waves his cigarette around.

(You bastard! How am I supposed to resist you, huh?)

"Non mais vraiment- est ce que t’as la moindre idée de l’effet que t’as quand tu te balades torse nu sur le pont, tout dégoulinant de sueur? Ou de l’effet que les bruits que tu fait durant tes entraînements ont sur moi? J’ai qu’à fermer mes yeux et c’est- je…” he can feel his ears burning. Fuck it. Why not let it all out, he’ll feel better afterwards.

( No, but really- do you have any idea of the effect you have when you walk shirtless on deck, dripping with sweat? Or how the noises you make during your workouts affect me? All I have to do is close my eyes and it's- I...)

“Tu me rends fou. Après nos combats c’est si facile d’imaginer tes mains calleuses m’aggrippant possessivement, ta peau salée sur ma langue, ton torse haletant d’effort, ton regard enflammé -”

( You drive me crazy. After our fights it's so easy to imagine your calloused hands gripping me possessively, your salty skin on my tongue, your torso panting with effort, your fiery gaze -)

Still sat in front of Sanji, Zoro’s face is turning red and he’s shooting Sanji a heated look, no doubt irritated about being ranted at in French. Tough shit. Sanji wasn’t done.

“T’es si favorisé par les dieux, je suis même sûr que ta bite est énorme. Et puis si tu savais ce que je te laisserais me faire- ” he rolls his eyes and snorts, hoping the exasperation part of his rant is convincingly coming through.

(You're so favoured by the gods, I'm pretty sure you even have a huge dick. And if you knew what I'd let you do to me-)

Zoro’s mouth parts in shock, and a small anxious thought crosses Sanji’s mind- but there’s absolutely no way in hell the shitty mosshead knows French. He would sooner know his left from his right.

“Dis moi.” (Tell me.)

“Tell you what, stupid marimo-” it takes a couple of seconds for the cook to comprehend what just happened, and a strangled noise crawls its way out of his throat. Everything comes to a halt, his world crumbles down. Oh no. Oh no .

Zoro rises to his feet and steps into his space, a dangerously sinful grin across his face. At this point Sanji’s brain has fully stopped working, and it’s all he can do to gape stupidly back at him, face redder than it’s ever been.

“Dis moi. ” he repeats, voice low and so foreign sounding as it tries to replicate the right intonation of Sanji’s mother tongue. “Ou si tu préfères je peux te dire ce que je voudrais bien te faire, moi.”

( Tell me. Or if you prefer, I can tell you what I'd like to do to you.)

Warm blood bursts forth from Sanji’s nose, and his world turns black.

#zosan fic #zoro x sanji #zoro learns french story #zoro learns french #sanji x zoro #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #writing the mihawk part was just so fun #as requested Zoro speaks french to sanji and oh boi #one piece zosan #please let me know if you liked it! im so self conscious of my french haha

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fallenneziah · 1 year

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Conquering Goliath

Summary: You knew your first time with König would be interesting, but it was more than you could have asked for.

CW: afab!reader, size difference, creampie, multiple orgasms, oral (f! Receiving), PiV, no use of y/n.

König and you had been dating for a couple months now at this point. The topic of sex had always hung in the air for you both. König wasn't comfortable asking you and you wanted to make sure he was ready before asking him.

It had been on your mind for a while.

You brought König to your room, stroking your hand as you bring him in, running your hand up his chest, beckoning him down for a kiss.

"What's this about love?" He caressed your hips in his large hands, letting you lift his mask enough to capture his lips in a kiss.

You hum, holding his neck, kissing his lips and down across his chin. "könig... I love you."

He twitches, your lips traveling down his jaw, nipping at the skin of his throat. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer to him.

"Schätzchen-" He pulls away, your lips back on his. Your hands stroke over his rough stubbled jaw, coaxing him closer to you.

He looks into your eyes, longing bursting at the forefront of his soft irises.

You nod, pressing another kiss to the tip of his nose. "I'm ready babe, If you are."

It was late in the night and the others were asleep. You could keep yourself quiet, always imagining fucking König in the dark, large hands wrapped around your hips, giving you the pleasure you longed from him.

It plagued your dreams until you couldn't get enough of it.

König nods. He kisses you again, rougher than before, his tongue slipping past your lips, exploring your warm mouth. You tug his hood, bringing him closer to you.

His large hands wrap around your ass and squeeze it, hoisting you up into his arms like nothing. You wrap your legs around him, feeling your heart speed up in your chest.

His tongue prodded your mouth, pulling away for air. You pull off his helmet and throw it across the room, tangling your fingers up under his mask and into his messy hair.

"König-"

His lips sink into your soft throat, sucking deep hickeys into the sensitive spots along your neck. Your head falls back, letting him kiss and nip up your jugular, making you moan.

You pant, feeling the heat boiling in your core start to grow and spread to your legs, making you pulse and buzz with excitement.

König bites your shoulder, making you gasp. You bite your lip, pulling his hair, encouraging him to keep going.

He brings you back to the bed and drops you on his large mattress. You pant, looking up at him expectantly. His large, broad figure heaving, fists clamped tightly, watching you carefully.

He pulls off his shirt and climbs on the bed, bent over you. You kiss him again, loving the scars on his lips, biting and nipping the plush skin and feeling him shiver every time.

His hands roam up your sides, pulling your shirt up, breaking from the kiss and pulling it over your head. You raise your hands, grabbing onto the headrest of the bed, breathing in sharply.

His lips ghost over your collar, pressing soft kisses along your skin. He reaches your bra, nimble hands coming around your back and unlatching the clip.

You bite your lip, feeling him drag the straps over your arms and remove your bra.

König feels his pants grow uncomfortable, scarred hands cupping your tender breasts, kneading them in his palms.

You watch him experience you at his pace. His fingers brushes over your nipple, making you gasp and push up into his touch.

He looks up at you, brushing his thumb back over your sensitive nipple. You moan softly, "König, yeah..."

He rolls your nipple between two fingers, pinching and pulling it, watching your face shift, taking in a heavy breath.

He lays kisses between your breasts, bringing one of your nipples in his mouth, running his tongue over it and sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth.

You gasp and moan, exhaling sharply and coiling your hand back in his hair. "König." You whine, feeling him suck and lick your nipple in his mouth, lapping at it.

He pulls away and rubs your sensitive nipple between his fingers. The other being licked and sucked into his desperate mouth.

You writhe, sucking in sharp breaths and moaning, fingers curling in his hair.

Finally he pulls away with a pop. A line of saliva keeping him connected to you. "Schätzchen-" He kisses under your breast, sucking a hickey into the skin. Littering hickeys all over your chest. By your collar, above your nipple, biting into the soft flesh of your breasts.

Hearing your moans only makes his growing erection worse, touching and pleasing you for the first time. It all felt like a dream, having you this close.

He gropes your breast and looks up at your feverish face. "Should we have a safeword? In case I'm too much?"

You smile, petting his cheek. "I can handle it love, it's ok."

He frowns but nods.

"Just, say stop or something, ok?"

You nod, giving him a more reassuring smile.

He slips down between your legs, grabbing your waistband and pulling it down over your hips and off your legs. He reaches your panties and drag the delicate cottons over your ankles and toss them off the bed.

He lifts one of your legs up, kissing up your calve and to your thigh, feeling his heart rate spike.

You watch König, watching each movement he makes, his lips getting closer and closer to your core. You shift in anticipation, biting your lip.

His hand runs up to your belly button and his mouth presses against your wet cunt. His hand comes down your stomach and grabs your other thigh, nudging it away from his head.

You moan, feeling his tongue circle your clit and drag over your cunt. He tastes it on his tongue and can't help digging for more.

You moan, hands starting to tighten in the sheets. He's inexperienced and somewhat awkward but is pulling it off.

He latches onto your clit and sucks it into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it.

"König! Baby-!" You moan, rolling your hips up into his face. "Yes- oh yeah." You sigh, feeling your words and noises affecting his movements until he's unraveling you faster than you'd thought.

The heat in your core buildings, precum spilling out onto his tongue and into his hungry mouth. He's moaning against your cunt, licking and kissing everywhere he can, tasting you on his tongue.

His thumbs rub over your hip bones, holding your legs up and away from him. Your toes curl, anticipating his tongue against your throbbing clit, surprised when he spits on his fingers and prods into your hole.

His finger alone in big, pressing into your tight entrance. Your cunt flutters. König pumps his finger in and out of your hole, pressing another in a bit later.

The sweet burning sensation makes you moan. "I've- only ever gone to three König." You say through heavy breaths. König pulls his fingers out, watching your slick drip between the two.

"We might need the lube."

You gulp, pulling open the side drawer of your nightstand and tossing him a bottle. "I thought we might."

He slathers his fingers in lube and presses back into your entrance. Your fists tighten in the sheets, moaning loudly.

"Oh- you sound so good." He mutters, practically drooling seeing your cunt swallow his large fingers. He presses them in, feeling your hole tighten and relax rapidly while you moan on the bed.

Your moans are like music to his ears. He leans down, pumping his fingers in your cunt. His tongue laps at your clit, sucking it into his mouth and kissing it.

You buck your hips into his mouth, whining his name.

"König I'm-" Your hips buck up, feeling your orgasm ripple through your bones. You spasm around König's fingers, clenching and expanding.

König listens to your absolutely glorious moans, watching you squirm and shift when your orgasm spills down your entrance onto the sheets.

He watching your cum, running his fingers through it and pushes it over your hole, smearing it around.

You pant, taking in a deep breath. König bends over you and kisses you gently. "Are you ok?"

You nod, letting out another breath, calming your racing heart.

König smiles, kissing you again. Your hands cup his cheeks and completely pull off his mask. "You don't need things right now love."

He looks at you with soft, innocent eyes, so eager to please you again.

"Come on, sit up, your turn."

"My turn?"

You push him back up, finding his belt buckle. His erection is prominent in his tight pants, twitching and aching for contact.

You unclasp the belt and unzip his zipper. His boxers are slick after the long day.

König helps you pull down his pants and underwear, his erection standing up in the free air. You feel your stomach start to heat up again.

The girth of his cock makes your cunt clench on air, you knew you wouldn't be walking for a week.

The idea makes you so hungry, wrapping one hand around his cock and rubbing him out while kissing him.

He moans, grabbing your hips and forcing his tongue into your mouth.

Precum already dribbles from his tip, twitching with each firm stroke.

"That feel good big boy?" You whisper in his ear.

He nods, panting and groaning. "Yes love, it feels so good..."

"Good, you wanna fuck me now? Make me come again, I know you can."

He squeezes your hips tightly, pulling you closer to him and easily throwing you back against the bed.

"Be careful with your words Schätzchen."

You smirk, lifting your hips up for him, splaying yourself right in front of him.

His eyes darken, pulling you closer and lining up his cock with your entrance. Your heart leaps excitedly in your chest, and then he was sliding in.

You gasp, moaning his name loudly. König keeps a grip on you, pulling you down onto him. It stings and stretches over his length, taking what you could.

He hadn't bottomed out before he stopped, seeing tears in your eyes. He pulls out, sinking his hips back in halfway.

"So good love. So tight." He mutters, watching his cock push into you and pull out.

You feel completely immobile as König fucks into you, ringing you up his cock. Your insides burn like fire around his length, getting used to the intense stretch.

Your back arches, crying his name again, fists tightening in the sheets.

He pushes a bit further down his length, watching how nicely he made your back arch. Bucking your hips into him, begging for more.

He pulls out and you whine loudly. You look at him, seeing him sitting at the edge of the bed. "Baby?"

"Come here Schätzchen, ride my cock like a good girl."

You bite your lip and crawl over, positioning yourself back over his cock and sink down. This time you force yourself around him, bottoming him out. It makes your back arch and tears spill down your cheeks.

König has a bruising grip on your hips, feeling how tight you are, seeing the small bulge of his cock against your pelvis wall.

Your legs start to tremble, pushing yourself up and falling back down, finding a steady rhythm in your hips.

Your breathing grows heavy, finding König's lips in another kiss, making you breathless. Such a good feeling, unable to catch your breath while fucking yourself on him.

His hands have a bruising hold on your hips, starting to guide you up on his length and down again.

"So fucking tight." He groans into your open mouth.

Your arms wrap around him, bucking your hips, feeling him twitch and squirm.

"You better not come right now."

"Didn't even consider it..."

He watches his bulge against your wall, hearing just how he unravelled you.

"Ooh- that's it, good girl. Feels so good."

"König!"

He runs his hand up your stomach, cupping your breast. He fondles the supple skin, pinching your nipple.

You throw your head back, drooling and groaning, unable to communicate your thoughts.

"That's it-"

König pushes his hips up into you, forcing you down a little faster.

The fire in his core heightens, making him crave you more than ever. Your beautiful body, half his size taking him so well. The tears his cock makes you cry is a thought now ingrained on his brain.

He cups the back of your neck, pulling you into him, your body writhing against his chest.

"König, more, please." You whine in his ear, nipping and biting his lobe desperately. You tongue at his ear, drooling over him. Loving and craving how he stretches you out and fucks you so timidly.

"So good love-"

You can feel your skin start to divot under his bruising grip on your hips, guiding you faster along his length. Your insides burn and tighten, your walls clamping and relaxing until the fire has practically numbed you.

König whimpers, shoving you down firmer, pulling you up and slamming you down onto him.

You cup his nape, kissing his jaw. "You close baby?"

He nods, moaning softly.

"That's it, cum for me love."

You groan, rolling your hips down and canting wildly. It makes König go wild, all other thoughts gone except the thought of you. Your scent, your sounds, your body. All of it overwhelms him and his cock twitches inside you again.

"I'm gonna come- I'm gonna-"

He bites his lip and forces you down on his cock, cum filling your insides and painting your walls. You feel your own orgasm join him, both of you crying happily, clinging to each other as your vision goes blurry, red hot orgasm dripping off of you both. Sweat glistening across your skin in the afterglow.

You hug his neck, resting in his warmth. He rubs your back and stomach, feeling over the bump of his cock inside you while it softens.

He kisses your bare shaking shoulder softly. Running kisses up your throat until you find the energy to meet him in a kiss.

"I love you." He whispers, massaging your back.

"I love you too."

Eventually you both have the strength to move. König picks you up off his cock, watching the mix of spend drip down your thighs and over his cock.

You try to stand on your own but your shaking legs keeps you held firmly in König's grip.

"Let's go wash up."

He wraps a blanket around the both of you and heads for the shower. He washes you up, massaging your legs and back, hoping to ease some of the stiffness you'd be feeling tomorrow.

You look up at him as he tends to your thighs, rubbing lotion over them.

"König?"

"Yes, Schätzchen?"

He looks up at you, smiling softly.

You smile back. "Can we do that again?"

He chuckles. "Rest for now love." He picks you up in his arms and dries you off. He brings you back to the bed and lays you under the covers, curling up next to you. He tucks your head to his chest and holds you close, keeping you safe.

"Just rest."

You curl up against him, relaxing in his warmth. "I love you König."

"I love you too." He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head and you drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

#könig smut #könig call of duty #könig x reader #female reader #cod smut #konig smut #konig call of duty #konig x you #konig x reader #im really self conscious of my smut writing #i hope its ok though

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skaruresonic · 6 months

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The common rebuttal to "this reads like fanfic (derogatory)" is "read better fanfic," which is true in certain cases, but on the other hand, there is some grain of truth to the idea that you can tell when someone's primary mode of literary analysis is fanfic instead of... well... literally anything else. It's okay to like or even prefer fanfic, but if you want to take your craft seriously you also need to read books, dude. Published books will teach you a lot of stuff fanfic doesn't, like proper dialogue formatting and how to introduce your reader to unfamiliar characters. Even the crappiest book (well, if it's not After or 50 Shades, which started off as fanfic to begin with lol) will have been subjected to some sort of editing process to ensure at least the appearance of proper grammar. That's not a guarantee with your average fanfic, and hence why you can't always take all your writing cues from fanfic because it's "so much better" than commercially published original fiction or whatever. Frankly, fic writers tend to peddle some absolutist and downright bad takes sometimes. "Said is dead" is a terrible rule, though not because said is invisible and a perfectly serviceable tag; that's just part of it. Dialogue tags are a garnish, not a main dish that can be swapped out for more ostentatious words. If your characters murmur and mutter instead of simply saying stuff, your readers are going to wonder why nobody speaks up. "'I'm explaining some very plot-important shit right now lol,' she elaborated," likewise, is a form of telling. Instead of letting the reader extrapolate that "she elaborated" via the contents of the dialogue itself, you're telling them what to think about it. And that's why it's distracting: your authorial hand is showing. Writing is an act of camouflage. You, as the writer, need to make your presence as invisible as possible so as to not intrude on the reader's suspension of disbelief. That's the driving reason behind "show, don't tell." And overall, everyone could stand to cut down on the frequency of their dialogue tags anyway. Not every exchange needs "he said" or "she whispered" attached as long as you establish who is doing the talking before the exchange. Some people will complain of confusion if you go on for too long without a dialogue tag, and that definitely is a risk, but at some point you also need to resist the temptation of holding the reader's hand. If they can't follow a conversation between two people, chances are they weren't meeting you halfway and paying that much attention in the first place. In fact, you don't even necessarily need action beats in between every piece of dialogue, as Tumblr writing advice posts will often suggest as a fix. Pruning things often cleans them up just fine.

Another fanfic-influenced trend in writing is, I guess, beige prose? A heavy focus on internal narration with lots of telling. It's not a style I can concretely describe, but every time I click on a non-mutual's writing, I feel like it always has, like. This "samey" voice to it. There's no real attempt to experiment and use unique or provocative language, or even imagery half the time. It's almost a dry recital of narration that doesn't leave much room for subtext. I see this style most often in fanfic where you can meander and wax poetic about how the characters feel without ever really getting around to the plot. And it's like. DO something.

Other tells that the author is taking their cues from fanfic mores rather than books: >>too much minute description of eyes, especially their color and their movement >>doesn't leave much room for subtext (has a character speak their every thought aloud instead of letting the reader infer what they're thinking via action or implication) >>too much stage action ("X looked at Y. Y moved to push their seat in. X took a deep breath and stepped toward Y with a determined look on his face. 'We need to talk,' he said.") >>tells instead of shows, even when the example is about showing instead of telling ("he clenched his teeth in agony" instead of just "he clenched his teeth") >>has improper dialogue tag formatting, especially with putting full stops where there should be commas ("'Lol and lmao.' she said" instead of "'Lol and lmao,' she said." This one drives me up a wall) >>uses too many dialogue tags >>"em dashes, semi-colons and commas, my beloved" - I get the appeal but full stops are your friends. Too much alternate punctuation makes your writing seem stilted and choppy. >>"he's all tousled brown hair and hard muscle" and "she's all smiles and long legs." This turn of phrase is so cliche, it drives me up a wall. Find less trite ways of describing your characters pls. >>"X released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding" >>every fucking Hot Guy ever is described as lean and sinewy >>sobbing. why is everyone sobbing. some restraint, pls >>Tumblr in general tends to think a truism counts as good writing if you make the most melodramatic statement possible (bonus: if it's written in a faux-archaic way), garnish it with a hint of egotism, and toss in allusions to the Christian God, afterlife, or death. ("I will stare God in the face and walk backwards into hell," "What is a god to a nonbeliever?") It's indicative of emotional immaturity imo, that every emotional truth need be expressed That Intensely in order to resonate with people. >>pushes the "Oh." moment as the pinnacle of Romantic Epiphany >>Therapy Speak dialogue. why is this emotionally constipated forty-something man who drinks himself stupid every morning to escape gruesome war memories speaking about his trauma like a clinical psychologist >>"this well-established kuudere should Show More Emoshun. I want him to break down crying on his love interest's shoulder from all his repressed trauma" - I am begging u. stop >>"why don't the characters just talk to each other?" "why can't we have healthy relationships?" I don't know, maybe because fiction is not supposed to be a model for reality and perfect communication makes for boring drama?

>>improperly using actions as dialogue tags ("'Looks like we're going hunting,' he grinned") >>why is everyone muttering and murmuring. speak up >>too many adverbs, especially "weakly" and "shakily." use stronger verbs. ("trembled" instead of "shook weakly") >>too many epithets ("the younger man" or "the brunette detective") >>too many filter words ("he felt," "she thought," "I remembered")

>>no, Tumblr, first-person POV is not the devil; you're just using way too many filter words (see above) and not enough sentence variation to make it flow well enough. First-person POV is an actually pretty good POV (not just for unreliable and self-aware narrators) if you know what you're doing and a lot of fun crafting an engaging character voice. Tumblr's hatred of first-person baffles me, and all I can think is you would only hate it if your only frame of reference was, like, My Immortal. Have you tried reading A Book? First-person POV is just another tool in your toolbox, and like all tools, it can be used properly or improperly. But it's not inherently a marker of bad writing. The disdain surrounding it strikes me as about as sensical as making fun of the concept of characters. Oh, your work has characters in it? Ew, I automatically click off a fic if it has characters in it. like what.

#writing #obligatory disclaimer that I am speaking broadly and this is in no way intended to make anyone feel self-conscious

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snefzger · 1 year

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Daily Thought

View On WordPress

#amwriting #collective consciousness #Conscious Writing #Create Your Day #creative writing #Finding Beauty in Each Day #Florida photography #healing #Joy #LOVE #Photography #Poetry #Putting Awareness Into Practice #seeing beyond the ordinary #self awareness #Self Care #spirituality #Vision Quest #Writing

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brettesims · 1 year

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Our lives are swimming in grace, yet if you believe your mind it will make you doubt this. Follow your heart.

#consciousness #conscious writing #conscous flow #spiritual protection #spirituality #grace

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spoopdeedoop · 2 months

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hi i have some disorganized thoughts/hcs abt the found family human doctor au

(one of the thoughts being i should really give it a better name. another being YES this is only the nuwho doctors atm bc that's the only series i've watched so far apologies. if i ever get around to watching classic who i will add them trust)

BEHOLD my random, not at all in-depth headcanons

nine is the only one with a car out of all of them. they all keep bugging him to drive/pick them up from places -- he has mixed feelings about being the assigned taxi driver

both twelve and eleven are teachers -- college professor and preschool teacher respectively. twelve's students love them because he will say the most stupid, hilarious shit with a straight face without even knowing and eleven's students love him because he is the only teacher at the school that will dance with them during musical chairs (he doesn't even play the game. he just dances)

i want to make one of them an actual doctor but i don't think any of them could handle it unfortunately

they all share an an apartment flat on the same level -- nine, twelve and fifteen live in one room, ten, eleven and thirteen live in the one across from them. of course there are other people in the building too but they're all used to the strange loud hyperactivity of that particular flat. i think i'm using the right terminology here. yall know what im talking about

(i'm so tempted to make some companions be their neighbors)

nine and ten are the most insomniac of all of them, so they're used to bumping each other in the dead of night on their way to raid each other's respective fridges or something. very rarely thirteen will join them and they're like "WELL FANCY SEEING YOU HERE"

twelve does sleep, but like. he's nocturnal

eleven and ten hate each other in a sibling kind of way (see: day of the doctor). they are constantly sending each other death threats or tripping each other over. everyone is sick of it

sometimes when they're out shopping you'll hear ten yell "GET OUT OF THE FROZEN FOOD YOU NUMPTY WE ARE NOT BUYING FISH FINGERS" over the aisles and you'll hear eleven whine "WHY DO YOU HATE ME SO MUCH" back

(if you're lucky you'll be able to catch fifteen mumble "why did we put them in the same apartment. are we asking for an eviction notice")

eventually eleven will pick a random stray cat off the side of the road, take her home, and name her bowtie, which is a stupid name, so everyone just defaults to calling her kitty

kitty's favourite person is twelve, to eleven's absolute despair

(my original idea for this was to initially have ten hate the idea of living with a cat, since he's stated full on in the show that he doesn't like cats, but apparently there is some very obscure doctor who comic run in which he falls into a depressive spiral and adopts a cat whom he names rose-the-cat, so he might actually like cats idk?)

anyway ten hates her until he doesn't lmao. he vents to her when there's no one else home and she will Stare at him back and it is a very nice friendship

kitty and nine watch shitty romcom together

they have a joint groupchat together -- half of it is just thirteen and fifteen assigning everyone outfits they find on pinterest and the other half is eleven asking where everyone went (he keeps getting lost when they go out)

nine doesn't know how to download pictures off the internet and so resorts to manually editing memes together to send to the groupchat and everyone's like "girl that's so much more effort........."

(yes he doesn't know how to press save image to camera roll but he knows how to use a photo editor flawlessly. such is the logic of the idiocy of the doctors)

eleven and thirteen get along very well i think. they're the only two of the group to play video games and so they bond over that. they also have ridiculously similar clothing taste

sometimes they'll succeed in getting fifteen to play pokemon with them and then they'll proceed to not see him until the next day when he comes out of his room and goes "you didn't tell me plusle couldn't evolve i've been levelling it up all fucking night"

friday is assigned movie night (it's always big hero 6)

eleven is the only one to actively seek out physical affection, usually really abruptly like clinging to thirteen's back as she passes him in the hall or bapping ten with the palm of his hand until he sighs and gives him a hug. he does expect a platonic kiss on the forehead from anyone before he goes to bed and will complain if he doesn't get one

anyway thats it i'm sick in the head and really sad. if this keeps up i may be forced to actually write a fic

#doctor who #spoop speaks #if anyone has a name for this au i'm OPEN TO SUGGESTIONS #if anyone wants to write fic/draw art for this au YOU DONT EVEN HAVE TO ASK. IM ACTIVELY BEGGING. PLEASE #might delete this post if i get too self conscious it is. just. words. ew

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gayspacemonk · 1 month

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I kinda need someone to write Kabru being so deeply attracted to Laios and mentally preparing himself for the worst sex ever bc there's just no way Laios knows how to do it

and then Laios absolutely rocks his shit

edit: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54664579

I fucking did it

#labru #subverting expectations #it would be so funny #I would write it myself if I wasn't self conscious about my english writing skills #maybe I'll do it anyway who knows

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abstract-moth · 2 months

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Nimona story idea that just crashed into my brain:

Movie Ambrosius asking Ballister if he thinks they are lovers in every universe. Ballister takes his hand and genuinely says "no." That they are here in this universe due to a number of statistical improbabilities that inevitably brought them together. And if any of them didn't exist, if Ambrosius wasnt a noble or didn't have his pure heart, if the Queen wasnt so kind, if Ballister was more cynical, they wouldn't even have the possibility to meet in those universes, let alone fall in love.

And then they meet their comic versions and find out that Bal was right but also so so wrong

#something something misunderstanding why a life circumstance eventually came about #underestimating the power of conscious decisions to love and be a better person #nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #might actually write this idk

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crystalflygeo · 11 months

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Intoxicating desire ft Baizhu + gn!reader

cw/tags: This one is more sensual/suggestive than straight up smut tbh. Reader has some experience while Baizhu doesn't and is guided along. Biting kink (reader giving) making out, slight dry humping I guess?? dirty talk if you squint?? idk what to tag

notes: Feeling a little odd/unsure about this one but a little someone inspired me to just post it ehhhh hope someone likes it. Guess it also counts as a lil revenge againts that someone hmmmm. Also yes I like to bite I want to bite him xdcgbhjnmkas. He'll be fine..... probably

“Just tell me if it’s too much” You smiled, warm yet mischievous.

Baizhu is panting already.

The two of you have barely done anything in all honestly, but just the fact of being here, now, with you. Doing this. It was enough to make all his thoughts scatter out of control.

You back a little but still nuzzle at his neck “Are you ok? Your breathing is harsh.”

Your voice is low, velvet, he can feel your breath ghosting at his skin and it makes him shiver. “…Y…Yeah” He manages.

“Should we stop?” There is concern in your tone and you scoot back a little from the spot sitting at the bed, avoiding contact as to not overwhelm him.

Instead, Baizhu pulls you closer eager for the grounding feeling he gets from you, slotting your hips together.

“No… it’s fine.”

Your cheeks warm up as you stare at his sharp golden eyes. One of his hands cups your face and your own arms surround his neck, though you take note of the fast pace of his heart “Are you sure? There’s no need to force it.”

Baizhu just nods, then pulls you in for a kiss. He really doesn’t feel up to talking. Right now, he wants to feel you as close as you can get.

You smile into the kiss and your hands start roaming, fumbling a little with his top. It’s intoxicating… these feelings.

You just want more.

Baizhu inhales sharply and his skin prickles with goosebumps as you slip your hands under his clothes, you lean in once more to kiss at his neck again.

“Ah… darling, what are you…?”

You bite down and Baizhu gasps.

You lap and suck at his neck softly, almost ticklish, threading your hands through his beautiful long green locks, and he shifts awkwardly. It feels so good. Once you’re done with that spot you move to another place down to his shoulder.

“Hng-” He’s desperately trying to stifle any sound wanting to escape from his mouth. Though that doesn’t stop the whimpers caught in his throat, reacting to his quickly heating cheeks.

“Holding back isn’t going to do you any good.” You suddenly mention, and he can almost picture your sly grin. “The whole point is for you to test out all these sensations.”

Baizhu’s glad you’re focused on his neck, he was sure he’d die if you saw his red face.

Both of your hands are at his bare torso now, they’re warm and incredibly soft making him shiver, until you lightly run your nails across his skin. A moan spills out of his mouth, low and needy, and he’s overwhelmingly embarrassed.

What kind of person gets so shamelessly turned on from just a touch like that? He feels stupid. Stupidly exposed. Stupidly turned on.

“Does it feel good?”

Don’t ask something like that!

He doesn’t answer and instead rests his forehead on your shoulder, panting softly. In response you bite again, lower on his collarbone and your right hand brushes down on his pants daringly. He gasps sharply in surprise, a burning heat settling in his stomach.

“Bai come on, tell me.” You mumble with a pout.

Oh, you’re not playing nice.

He nods, head buzzing with pleasure. “Nnng-... Hmmm” He can barely think straight. He just feels. Feels your hands teasing, your hair tickling his skin, your weight pressing on his body, your breath, your lips, his heart rattling, and he feels hot, so hot.

Suddenly his back presses against something soft yet firm: the bed covers. And he realizes he’s now lying on his back while you straddle his hips. Your mouth is hot and you whispers tiny things -he doesn't even know what anymore- while your lips work on his skin.

Baizhu's hands find their way onto your hips and they rest there while you kiss him. Right then you decide to bite yet again (you’re certainly keen on marking him aren’t you?) and his fingers dig on your sides.

You shiver in response and murmur in his ear, and he tries his best not to flinch. His skin is sensitive, his groin is sensitive and he doesn't think he can handle all this contact without exploding.

And then.

Then you grind your hips slowly and his breath catches.

He groans, deep and throaty, and involuntarily bucks into you, cock twitching in his pants.

"Sweet Archons" You hiss out. Clothes and all, you can feel him, and you want him so badly.

There is a pause, a moment of silence as both of you seem to catch your breaths and process what is happening. You look at the man lying under you, he's a totally new sight, so much different from the usual calm and collected Doctor of Liyue you know and love. Instead, his face is flushed, a sheen of sweat already forming, his eyebrows twitch slightly, golden viperine eyes staring right back at you and you can feel the lingering passion, excitement, lust.

For a moment you simply stare, as if analyzing him, peering deep into his being and committing this moment to memory, and it only makes him blush harder, his face getting way too hot. He finally averts his gaze in an attempt to calm down.

At that you blink back to reality, quickly pulling back and away from him -although reluctantly- giving him some space and rubbing at your arm awkwardly, biting your lip in apprehension. Did you just- That was- What was that? Did you go too far? Too fast?

“Um… w-woah” You babble. “Ah s-sorry! I promise I’ll take it slow...” ‘And control myself’ you add in your head, shoulders raising in embarrassment as you curled up and hide your face.

You shake your head, pushing that aside and turning to him.

“Baizhu...?”

The green-haired man lays still dazed and flustered, arm draped over his clearly red-hot face, still catching his breath, he gives a light cough an clears his throat “Hmmm you’re going to be the death of me, my dear...”

At that, of course, you promptly face-plant on a pillow.

#baizhu smut #baizhu x reader #baizhu x you #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagines #crys writes #gn reader #I feel like Baizhu comes off as too... hmmm.... submissive?? to my liking #I'm so sorry #he's just sensitive ok this is the first time he's overwhelmed shhh #xdfcvhnk why am I self-conscious about this lmao #I want to bite his tummy #he can bite me back s'okay #hehehehee

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