#and the water one doesn’t smell like much imo
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this smells SO good.
#I don’t even give a fuck about Chanel honestly#but it must be said#smells gewwwwd#not as potent as the original or the intense oil based ones#and the water one doesn’t smell like much imo#coco#chanel#night#scents#perfume#its pricey tho#wont lie#cheaper at sephora tho#sephora#parfum
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ain't no rest for the wicked - chapter three
ain't no rest for the wicked series
three: been sinnin' in this city
series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter
Tess Servopoulos x f!reader x Joel Miller
words: 5.7k
summary: Tess and Joel go AWOL for a while, but return with a gift.
warnings: dark-ish Joel and Tess, smuggler!Joel, smuggler!Tess, boston QZ, QZ life, poorly negotiated d/s-style dynamics, poor communication, enthusiastic consent, oral sex (m & f receiving), p in v, degradation, stalking, canon-typical violence, threesome, cum eating, light rope bondage, cloth gag, spanking, punishment, sub drop, aftercare, strap-on, anal sex, rimming, light angst, edging, orgasm denial
IMPORTANT NOTE: I have updated the warnings on the masterlist to reflect that this has a bittersweet (imo) ending. It's not a happily ever after. Please feel free to DM me if you want to know spoilers before you decide if you will continue reading.
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
“Soon” doesn’t quite happen. It’s a month before you hear from them.
Honestly, you had forced yourself to accept that it was over. Maybe Joel coming over alone was crossing a line.
Not that it stops you from looking over your shoulder or getting your hopes up when you come home. But there isn’t even a moment where you feel watched from afar. You consider drawing a line of flour across your threshold, but you have a feeling it’d be undisturbed when you get back, no matter if they came or not.
The disappointment sits bitter at the base of your throat.
That is, until you get home one evening, soaked from head to toe in sleet, and Tess is in your apartment.
When you walk in, you’re too busy trying to get your soaked boots and coat off with minimal sludge on your floor to notice. But when you do, you jerk so fast you nearly slide on the wet floor, falling back against the door.
“What the fuck,” you gasp, trying to recover from the embarrassing screech.
“Joel was right. You really ain’t got a sense of your surroundings, huh?”
“Not in my own home! M’not supposed to have to—“
She smirks.
Not that you notice; too distracted by where she’s lounging. It’s your bed but also it very much is not.
Your mattress is set up on a wooden frame. It’s not fancy, just unstained boards, but it looks well-crafted and sturdy.
“Um,” you say.
“Gonna come try it out?”
“What?”
“Don’t you like it, sunflower?”
“I-I do, I’m just—“
“I told you, we’ll take care of you.” The smirk is gone, now. She’s startlingly serious.
“You said when I’m at yours,” you say.
“Did Joel not take care of you while he was here?”
“No, he did, I—“
She sits up and grabs your wrist, tugging you over. You follow easily, acquiescing when she pulls you on the bed and manhandles you…
(womanhandles you? Are you failing feminism? Where does the movement stand at the end of the world?)
… until you’re laying beside her with your head on her stomach.
“Isn’t this more comfortable?” she says.
She’s so soft, and she smells so good. You’re a little unfocused between taking deep breaths and curling your arm around her waist. “Yes, ma’am,” you say.
She grins. “Good girl.”
For a moment, you are both content to lay there. It really is comfortable. Soon, though, you’re pressing absentminded kisses to her stomach and nuzzling her breasts.
She rubs her hand up and down your back.
Your hand twitches near the hem of her shirt. “Um,” you mumble, anxious fingers fiddling with the folded fabric.
She lifts just enough to tug it off, going after yours in nearly the same motion. Your mouth waters.
She snaps your bra strap. “Off.”
You scramble to obey, not even bothering to unhook it but yanking the old, worn cotton over your head and tossing it to the floor.
She grins at your over-eagerness, but you barely notice, unabashedly focused on her tits.
“Please,” you whisper.
She nods, and before she can voice the answer, you find yourself clinging to her.
Huh.
Funny.
You had meant to latch your mouth around her nipple, but you’re practically climbing her to get close.
Her skin against yours feels like heaven. The creeping loneliness that burrowed into your bones hurts more than ever. At the same time, though, it’s beginning to bleed out.
She gasps softly as your nails dig into her side. Not enough to hurt but enough that she seems to recognize your desperation.
“I know, sunflower. I’m sorry,” she murmurs, holding you tight, just on the right side of painful. But you need it. The twinge in your ribs is giving you more comfort than you’ve known in weeks.
You nuzzle into her chest, placing kisses across her skin that swiftly shift from soft to sloppy. You suck and lick at any inch you can reach, finally mouthing your way to her breasts. Every brush scatters sparks across your shoulders and between your ribs, leaving you shuddering and gasping against her.
She moans as you lave at each hardened bud, and holds your head with an unforgiving grip when you suckle at one. Her back arches, pushing the fat of her breast into your face.
You don’t mind. Oxygen doesn’t seem super important right now. Her other hand has captured one of your own nipples, and she pinches and tugs harshly, her moans drawn out when you whimper against her.
She laughs, and it’s on the edge of cruel, but you’re unbothered.
“Look at you,” she teases. “So fuckin’ needy, huh?”
You hadn’t even realized, but you’ve thrown a leg over hers and are rocking your hips against her thigh.
“M’sorry,” you pant, after pulling off her breast with a lewd pop. You go to move away.
“Don’t stop; it’s cute,” she says, guiding you by the back of your head to her other breast.
Heat spreads across your face but also through your spine until it pools between your thighs. Fuck it, your brain decides, before it turns off for the day.
You’re gasping as you mouth at her, your panties dragging against your clit as you grind.
She slides her hands down and tugs at them, and you quickly lift and help her wiggle them off before sliding down to dispose of hers.
You had planned on returning to her tits and maybe trying to make out, but now that you’re down here, making out with her pussy seems like a much better idea.
You press a soft kiss to her thigh and look up at her, but she surprises you and reaches her hand out to pull you back up.
She guides you, pushing and pulling your pliant limbs where she likes. You let go of the knots anxiety tied to hold you stiff and quiet, a tug behind your ribcage urging you to give in, give up, give everything to Tess.
Something hazy and lax trickles through your veins—it doesn’t go unnoticed, either.
“There you go,” she croons as you gaze up at her.
You didn’t even really notice her laying you down or getting on top of you, but you don’t think about it for long because her knee slides up to your core, grinding until it pushes against your clit.
She catches your moan in a kiss just as she settles her cunt against your thigh.
The feeling of her heat on your leg sends your hips canting against the relentless pressure of her knee. As you squirm and buck, your thigh moves against her, and she moans, biting at your lips until they part with a gasp.
She’s less rough with you than Joel but no less commanding. Her hands grip true and firm, and one winds its way around your neck to squeeze at the sides as she kisses you. You can’t tell which makes you dizzier, but either way, you writhe beneath her just the way she intended.
“I know you’re his,” she murmurs against your swollen lips. “But you’re mine, too, ain’tcha?”
You nod frantically, or at least to the best of your ability, trapped as you are. She eases up a little to let you gasp. You manage to squeak out a “yes, ma’am,” before she increases the pressure again. You’re squirming now, each wriggle of your body bringing you together in a rush of warm, wet ecstasy.
“That’s right,” she says before releasing your throat and focusing her attention on grinding against you. “You wanna cum, sunflower?” Her finger tweaks your nipple.
You reach for her breasts with one hand, the other settling on her thigh, where she’s spread across you. “Want you to,” you pant.
“Oh, I plan on it,” she says. Her smirk is intoxicating, and so is the way her hair falls around her face while she looks down at you. “But you’re gonna cum now.”
Her voice permits no choice, and she jerks her knee against your cunt. The shock and delicious pain of it have you obeying immediately, with her not far behind.
She, at least, has the sense of mind to cover your mouth with her hand. When she’s coming down from her high, she slides it slightly to cover your nose, too.
“Cum again, baby,” she says.
You cling to her with bruising fingers as you cum, and everything goes fuzzy and gray. She pulls her hand away at the last second, rolling her hips against your leg until she cums again, too.
“Please,” you sob.
She doesn’t need you to explain, just rolls back until you can pull your leg out from under her and lunge, burying your face between her thighs.
Her nails scratch against your scalp, and she gasps when you suck on her swollen clit. She lets you lick and draw two more orgasms out of her before she pulls you away from her cunt.
“No more,” she scolds when you whine. “I don’t wanna be sore tomorrow when you come over.”
“Oh, am I coming over tomorrow?” you tease.
“Well, I just said you were, didn’t I? Don’t be late.”
You frown, something too close to a pout, when she rises from the bed and pulls her clothes back on.
“I know,” she says softly, pinching your chin. “You be good and get some sleep, okay? You’re gonna need it.”
She pauses, looking at your bathroom door. “You really got mice in there on purpose?”
You bury your face in your hands and nod. “I can scare ‘em off if you need it.”
She snorts and shakes her head, something almost fond in her eyes, something that will haunt you. “Nah, leave ‘em be.” With one last kiss to your forehead, she slips out of the door.
You hesitate, but get up and lock all the locks behind her.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t expecting Joel to be outside your work. He isn’t, though. You hesitate for a minute, wondering if it means you shouldn’t go over after all.
In the end, your cunt makes the call, and you find your way to their apartment successfully. Look at that, you think. You were paying attention, after all. They never need to know you knocked on two wrong doors first.
Tess opens the third door and smiles. You flush immediately and give her a soft smile back, slipping inside and toeing off your boots. Once you set your bag by the door, you sink onto your knees. It’s all you could think about at work, and you don’t have the strength to fight the urge.
She ruffles your hair. “Look how good you are, pretty girl.”
Your eyes close briefly at the praise, and you look up at her. The fluorescent yellow bulb is obscured behind her head, warmth framing her like a halo.
“Unfortunately, Joel’s not been so good today, sunflower. You’re going to help me remind him how, okay?”
She gives you a hand and doesn’t let go after you stand, leading you into the bedroom. You freeze, though, when you see Joel tied to the bedposts with short lengths of rope and a bandana shoved in his mouth.
He squeezes his eyes tight when he sees you like he can block out the way your eyes are wide and brows furrowed. The shame burns across his body, but more than that, he aches to wipe the concern off your face.
So, he opens his eyes and forces himself into something calm. Accepting. He twitches two fingers against his bond to beckon you.
“Go ahead,” Tess gives you a little shove.
Logically, you know he submits to her. You’ve seen it. But it’s never been like this, never been him restrained or suffering.
He’s usually more like a devoted beast, content to kiss the hand that feeds.
Either way, you go to him and obediently duck so he can cup your face to the best of his ability. You press a kiss to his palm before looking to Tess.
“Someone here decided he couldn’t wait and jerked himself off in the shower this morning, even though you were comin’ over,” she says.
You look at Joel, baffled by the way you almost feel… hurt? It doesn’t make sense, but Tess’s tone seemed to imply you should.
She laughs at the look on your face. “Told ya,” she says to Joel. She comes up behind you, one arm slung across your collarbone and the other hand curling under your chin to grip your jaw. “Little slut’s disappointed.”
You, as always, burn for her amusement.
“Ain’t that right? You woulda been willing to help him out, huh?” she asks. Her grip on your jaw jerks your head up and down even as you’re whimpering, “Yes, ma’am.”
He spits the bandana out. “Told you, I wouldn’t have lasted. Had to take the edge off.”
Oh, she knows. She had come home last night and stroked his cock while telling him all about her visit. She hadn’t let him cum, then, either.
“That’s not for you to decide,” she says, letting you go so she can stuff his mouth full again. “Guess you gotta learn.”
She turns to you. “Climb up and get comfortable between his legs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He growls. You look sad, and he doesn’t like it. It doesn’t suit you.
Tess catches his eye and looks you over. “Hey,” she says, a hand on your shoulder. “You trust me?”
“Yes, ma’am.” And you mean it, more than you realized.
“Then stop feelin’ bad for him and help him out.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you murmur and climb up onto the bed, finding a home for yourself between his thighs. The dark hair tickles your nose when you press a kiss to the inside of his leg, nuzzling your cheek against it.
You’re not stupid, but you think you might be an idiot. You know what this is. And what it isn’t. But the way your chest warms at being close, at being allowed to see him vulnerable, at being coddled a little by the both of them—well, it’s dangerous.
When Tess rubs a hand over your back and whispers “good girl,” in your ear, you decide you don’t care. So what if your foolish heart is collateral? How many times since the world ended have you gotten to feel anything? You don’t need forever; you just need whatever you have in these moments.
So you’ll take it and swallow it up, bottle it inside for when you need something soft and warm at the end of a bad day.
Unfortunately, all the thinking about things that aren’t has you jittering your right leg. It’s tucked under you and jostles your whole body a little. Your head rests on Joel’s thigh, a torturous inch from his leaking cock.
But you know better. And so you wait.
She takes her sweet time, letting him watch you watch precum leak down. The longer she leaves you there in silence, the more the buzzing in your brain fades to a gentle breeze. Your leg stops its fussing, and you breathe deeper, easier. His thigh is wide and warm, and you’re close enough to smell the deep musk of him.
It makes your mouth water and your mind quiet. She comes back over, and you shudder when her fingers trip up the length of your spine until they come to rest on the back of your neck.
“Go real slow,” she says. “Just kisses and licks, for now.”
You’re in a haze; the world narrowed to her voice and his cock. First, you wipe his leaking slit clean with the broad stripe of your tongue before kissing it softly. He groans, but it settles into a whine when you kiss down the underside until you reach his balls.
They’re hanging at a bit of an awkward angle for you to reach, so you shift to sink lower, steadying yourself with a hand on each of his thighs. You don’t think you’ve ever gotten to properly appreciate him like this, to feel the velvet skin against your cheek as you nuzzle in.
Tess’s hand stays steady on the back of your neck, tethering you to the world without having to focus on the threadbare sheets or the clangs and shouts from the open window.
You’re not sure how long you spend like that, wrapping your tongue around wherever you can reach without actually taking him into your mouth. He’s twitching here and there, rewarding you with tiny tastes of him as you go.
She tugs on your neck, pulling you back. You whine, but he whimpers louder. She lets both of you sit and catch your breath for a moment before she’s pushing you down again.
“Just the tip,” she tells you with a playful wink at Joel.
You wrap your lips around it and can’t help but suck hard. His hips jerk up, but Tess is faster, pulling you out of his reach.
“Hold still,” she says, swatting at his thigh. “Be grateful for what you’re getting.”
She waits until he nods before pushing you back down. You try to be gentler, a softer, pulsing pressure, but he’s squirming beneath you, and you’re aching to have him deeper, sliding just a little further onto his shaft.
Tess yanks you by the neck away from him and fixes you with a stern scowl.
“I’m sorry! I’ll be good,” you cry.
“You better be,” she warns and pushes you back down.
By the time she lets you bury him in your throat, your knees are aching, and Joel is shaking with the effort to hold still. You don’t like the way he gasps and struggles; each sound sending a hairline fracture through something in your chest.
You don’t need to look to know he has tears in his eyes. You can hear it in the ragged breaths and grit of his teeth.
The sun has set. It has to have been at least an hour, maybe two, since this all started.
He lets out a wounded sound, and your own follows.
“Hey,” Tess’s voice cuts through Joel’s whimpers. She tugs at you gently, and you pull off.
“Why’re you crying, sunflower?” she says.
You don’t know how she knew it wasn’t from choking on his cock. It wasn’t like you hadn’t gotten teary before. You weren’t even really sure you were crying. But now that she’s asked, your chest feels tight.
Joel’s focused on you, too, throbbing cock forgotten for a moment.
“I’m okay,” you say, but it’s hardly convincing after it breaks on a sobbing gasp. “I-I—“
She gets on the bed and pulls you into her lap, where you curl around her and begin to cry in earnest. With one hand, she’s able to tug one of Joel’s free, and he’s more than capable of undoing the other.
He sits up on his knees and hovers, hands clenching and unclenching at his side. Tess cradles you and whispers soothing nothings.
Joel finally reaches out and puts his hand on the back of your neck, cupping close. He doesn’t really know what to do with himself.
When you feel his hand on you, unmistakably Joel, both in the breadth of his grip and considering you know where both of Tess’s hands are, you peek up to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” you say, and the chest-wracking gasps take over again. “I’m sorry.”
You’re clinging; you know you are. But it feels all wrong, all jumbled in your chest, like instead of finishing the puzzle, someone just jammed the pieces together until they stuck, no matter the damage.
“Why’re you sorry, huh? You did exactly as you were told,” he says, thumb rubbing over the nape of your neck.
“I don’t know, I feel sad,” you mumble into Tess’s shoulder.
Tess rubs her hand between your shoulder blades. “That was too confusing for you, huh? Put you in a weird place? Like you betrayed him a little bit?”
You nod, rubbing your hand over your clavicle. “Feels wrong.”
“I’m sorry, sunflower.” She kisses your forehead. “You need him to forgive you?”
Your throat is cinched around stone. All you can do is nod.
“Hey, c’mere,” Joel says and pulls you from her lap to his.
You curl up with your face buried in the crook of his arm.
“Ain’t nothin’ to forgive,” he murmurs, kissing the top of your head.
Your inhale sounds mortifyingly like a sob.
Tess shakes her head and raises an eyebrow at him, knowing he gets the same way. “You need to show her. Prove it. Let her earn it.”
“That what ya need? Need your own punishment, remember your place?”
You nod frantically against his collarbone.
“Okay, sweet girl. I can do that.”
Once you’ve settled and the tears subsided, he pries you away and tilts your chin up to look at him. “Lay across my lap.”
You remember his threat from your apartment, and for whatever reason, warmth spreads from your chest to your toes.
He helps you shift into position, arranging you how he wants. A broad hand splays across your hips while the other grips you by the jaw.
“Look at you. You’re just a little girl who needs a spanking, huh?” His grip intensifies, craning your neck.
“Yes sir,” you cry.
“Say it.”
“I—I’m just a little girl who needs a spanking.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“‘Cause you’ll take care of me.”
It’s not the answer any of you expected. Tess gives a low whistle. Joel’s grip on your jaw slackens just a little.
His other hand comes up to brush against your cheek. He clears his throat, and when he speaks, it’s softer, quieter. “That’s right. I’m gonna take care of ya.”
Your lip quivers, and you don’t know why. Everything is suddenly in stereo sound. Your scalp stings. The brush of his dry finger scrapes against the apple of your cheek. There’s a crack opening somewhere, maybe your throat, maybe your stomach.
Tess runs a hand through Joel’s hair, and he releases your jaw, broad palm finding purchase on the upturned curve of your back.
“Jus’ relax ‘n let me take care of ya,” he rumbles.
The first hit is soft. A test. You don’t flinch when he lifts his hand to strike you again.
The third one stings, and you huff out a breath but hold steady. His hand on your back seems to be supporting your entire spine, given that the rest of you feels like it may melt into the horrible carpet. Another stain in their apartment, but at least this one will bring good memories. You hope.
You might have spent more on the thought, but the next smack lands hard and heavy, and you yelp, nails digging into his calf where they cling for stability. Physical and mental.
“Shh, you’re alright,” he says, rubbing his thumb back and forth where it lays.
The next hit is hard again. And the next. And the three after that.
You’re wriggling in his lap now, not trying to escape but simply squirming after each spank as if you could douse the fire he’s started.
He rubs your ass where his palm had just bounced from, and you suck in a soft hiss.
“I want to give you five more,” he says. “Can you take it?”
You don’t even think about it. “Yes, sir,” you say, shuddering.
His hand cracks down hard before you can brace yourself, and you whimper, kicking your feet a little and squirming.
The next one pushes the tears over the edge as you cry out, writhing a little.
“Good girl, you’re doing so good, darlin’,” he croons.
You want nothing more than to believe him. The words sink beneath your skin, and you expect them to itch like all praise. But they don’t.
The next three aren’t as harsh. At least, you think they aren’t? You’re feeling kind of sleepy. Or dizzy. Maybe both.
“C’mere,” he says, pulling you up seated in his lap. “You took that so well. So good for us, baby.”
Tess hands you a glass of water and kisses the top of your head. She kisses Joel’s, too.
“Y’did good, sweet boy,” she tells him.
You sip at the water while they kiss, something silent passing overhead. You don’t try to catch it; it’s not for you.
You feel quiet. Like sitting there in Joel’s lap, drinking your water is the only thing in your life. Nothing buzzes behind your skull; nothing sends you jittering and twitching and bouncing. It’s… well, it’s quiet.
“Alright, I think you’ve both earned a reward,” Tess says.
Joel looks up at her.
She grins. “I’m going to fuck you while you fuck her.”
His grip on your waist tightens. “Can I…”
“Yes, I’ll let you come, baby,” she says. “I think you learned your lesson. And you’ve done such a good job with our girl there.”
You’re leaning against his chest, now, listening to the rumble of his voice. You’re not really sure what they’re talking about, but you think maybe you’re going to get fucked now. Which sounds great. You sigh softly, eyes fluttering shut.
“Hey,” he jostles you a little. “You awake enough to fuck?”
“Mhm.”
He nudges you again, and you blink up at him. “I’m awake,” you whine, nuzzling into his neck and setting your teeth gently against the tendon in protest.
“Didn’t you just get spanked?” he scolds. “You need another round?”
“No,” you mumble, even though maybe your pussy is saying yes. But you’re starting to think she doesn’t have your best interests in mind. “I dunno. Maybe later.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Lay down,” he says, pushing slowly at your shoulder. You whine and cling with your arms around his neck. He wants you to move? It seems so cruel.
You tell him so, and he rolls his eyes before slipping an arm under your knees and standing up. You squeak.
You try to bury your face further into Joel, but he dumps you unceremoniously on the bed.
You pout, and he smirks as he prowls, trapping you between his knees and bringing your arms up over your head.
“You wanna keep up the attitude? I don’t have to let you cum tonight,” he says as he cages you in.
You whimper, less at his words than at the way you’re throbbing. “I’ll be good,” you whisper.
“Wanna try that again?”
“I’ll be good, sir.”
He kisses your forehead, still looming over you. “Yeah, you will.”
“You want her to help get you ready, baby?” Tess says.
“Oh fuck,” Joel whispers. He looks down at you. “Ever eaten ass, princess?”
You can’t help the moan that slips out, nodding. “Not in a long time.”
He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Y’keep sayin’ that. How long was it for ya, before us?”
You flush and suddenly can’t look at him. “Like. Years. Too long.”
“Don’t gotta be shy about it, sunflower,” Tess says. “We were just curious.”
Mortifyingly, you realize that means they talked about you when you weren’t there. Of course, they did, but you didn’t think it really went beyond “Hey did you like that” and “Do we want to fuck her again?”
“Oh god,” you whisper.
“C’mon and put that mouth to better use,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. He tugs you down further on the mattress before kneeling at the top of the bed, knees bracketing your head.
You don’t waste time, leaning forward to first lick at his balls before dragging your tongue back. You can’t help but nip at his butt. He pinches at your breast in return, and you grin as you drag your tongue in circles, coming close but never quite touching where he needs you.
He gasps when you finally lick across his hole, soaking him in your saliva but only using soft, light touches. He grinds down onto your face, forcing you to devote your attention to him, kissing and licking until your face is covered in your own spit from how buried in him you are.
It’s your turn to gasp when, just as you press the tip of your tongue inside him, Tess slides two fingers into your cunt and curls them. Having regained control of the situation, Joel gropes at your breasts, tugging your nipples until they’re stretched almost too painfully, and you don’t really recognize the wet sounds above you right away.
You almost cum when you realize they’re making out as they toy with you. Tess works you open with three fingers now as you twirl your tongue in tight circles. She pulls her hand free and breaks the kiss just to shove her fingers into his mouth. He sucks and licks your slick from her, and when she pulls her hand away, they both move in tandem without speaking a word.
He moves down off the bed to bury his face between your legs, bent at the waist so she can work lubed-up fingers into his ass. He moans against your clit, and you writhe under the weight of his strong arm across your hips.
He smacks your hip. “Cum,” he growls, pinching your clit and licking as deep as he can inside you. You do, crying out just a little too loud and wincing at the sound.
“Don’t,” Tess scolds. “Let us hear you, sunflower.”
“B-but—”
“You think we give a fuck about the neighbors?” She pulls back from Joel and slaps his ass. “C’mon, give her your cock now.”
He taps your thigh and jerks his head toward the top of the bed. You scoot back a little.
“Ready, sunflower? You want me t’fill you up?” His fist is wrapped around the base of his cock.
“Please, sir,” you say, spreading your legs wide and tilting your hips up.
“Attagirl,” he murmurs. Once he’s settled on top of you, Tess grabs him by the hair.
“Just the tip, baby,” she says. “Let me fuck you into her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says while you moan.
He notches himself at your slit and gently pushes until the head of his cock is nestled inside you. His hands are balled into fists where they cage you in, and his chest heaves with the effort. After all the wretched edging earlier, he’s not actually sure he can hold back.
“Good boy,” Tess murmurs.
It helps, at least until he hears the vibrator click to life inside her. She moans and adjusts the harness a little before she slaps his ass and pushes in agonizingly slow.
It doesn’t stay slow. She drags it out just until you both are desperate before grabbing his hips and shoving the rest of her strap in. It knocks him forward to split you open.
You think you might actually die this time. How is it that she keeps coming up with even better ways to fuck?
You expect him to try to take control, but he lets her set the unforgiving rhythm, fucking herself on the cock held tight inside her by the harness and taking Joel apart with the other half. Each time her hips crash into him, he rocks into you.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Joel grunts, leaning down to bite at your tits so you writhe and whine beneath him.
You grip one of his biceps and reach up for Tess with the other hand. She entwines your fingers, grinning as you grip on desperately. Joel’s teeth have found your neck, leaving marks for you to find later.
You’re not sure how many times you cum. Or Tess, for that matter. Joel manages two. When Tess takes pity on him for the first, he breaks apart so hard that he buries his face in your tits, biting down and leaving hot tears behind. She fucks him through it, and he never goes fully soft, still twitching and throbbing inside you.
When he starts to protest from the overstimulation, she clicks her tongue at him. “No. Another.”
“I can’t,” he whimpers.
“Yeah, you can. Don’t you want him to cum again, sunflower?”
“Uh-huh,” is all you manage as the breath gets knocked out of you on each thrust.
“Be a good boy and cum for me again,” she says. She lets go of your hand to wrap hers around his throat.
You moan, remembering the way she held yours just yesterday.
He gets a glint in his eye even as they glaze over a little, and slides his hand up to do the same to you.
“Fuck, look at you,” Tess says, eyes flicking between you. “Both bein’ so good for me.”
It’s really all it takes. Joel starts to cum first, and when you feel him jerk inside you, this orgasm forcing some of his first load out to pool on the sheet, you snap, warmth flooding you as you tremble beneath them.
All of it sends Tess over the edge, too, and she reaches out to stroke your cheek as she cums, her other hand still loosely cupping Joel’s neck.
Joel’s shaking as he holds himself over you carefully, waiting as Tess gently pulls out. He follows, concern in his wrinkles as you wince.
“M’ok,” you mumble.
Tess goes to head to the bathroom for a towel but he stops her, grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips. He jerks his head to the bed, and she sighs but crawls beside you to let him handle cleanup.
You watch him, brow furrowed just a little. He should be more tired than either of you.
“He likes to take care of me,” she says. “Of both of us. Sometimes, we just gotta let him.” She tucks an arm under you, and you roll to wrap your arm around her waist.
Tess insists they walk you home that night. “But will you make it back before curfew?” you try to protest.
“Y’ain’t gotta worry about us,” Joel cuts in gruffly. “We’re the ones that gotta worry about you.”
You bite your lip but don’t argue. There’s no point once they’ve decided something, anyway.
Something about it feels off, like you’re in someone else’s skin, but then she slips her hand into yours. Joel trails behind you, scowl firmly locked in place as he shoots dark looks around.
You draw the line at them coming into the building. It feels sickeningly silly, like you’re playing pretend in dangerous waters. Your firm “no” doesn’t stop Tess from kissing your cheek or Joel from rubbing your shoulder before you go inside.
You’d always been fine by yourself before, but your new bed feels cold and lonely.
next chapter
*title from "HandClap" by Fitz and the Tantrums
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x oc#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller x tess servopoulos#joel miller x reader x tess servopoulos#tess servopoulos x you#tess servopolous x joel miller x you#tess servopolous x joel miller#tess servopoulos x reader x joel miller#tess servopoulos x reader#tess servopoulos x f!reader#the last of us smut#the last of us fic#tlou smut
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songs with some of the best guitar intros ever made in my opinion, in no particular order, a comprehensive (& continually updating) list:
Crazy Train (Ozzy Osbourne); I don’t care how you feel about the rest of the song, the intro fucking slaps and if you deny that you’re lying. to yourself and everyone else.
Smoke on the Water (Deep Purple); literally iconic. the intro reaches a part of my soul no other song does, besides maybe the cinematic cover version by 2wei
I Don’t Wanna Stop (Ozzy Osbourne); I feel like this is probably in a Tom Cruise movie somewhere. self explanatory. I’ve had this song on repeat for two days
Personal Jesus (Depeche Mode); again, SO iconic. if I could inject a song into my veins like drugs it’d be this one
(Don’t Fear) The Reaper (Blue Öyster Cult); maybe I should start keeping track of how many times I say “iconic” in this list. not only the intro, but the instrumental bridges throughout the song, ESPECIALLY the one after verse 2 and the second chorus… 🤌✨
For Whom the Bell Tolls (Metallica); *slaps track name* this bad boy can fit an intro that is SO LONG. and it ALL FUCKS.
Kickstart My Heart (Mötley Crüe); there should be some sort of warning feature installed that doesn’t let you listen to this song if you’re driving bc if you do you WILL get a speeding ticket. altho it does sound better if you’re driving tbh. but watch for cops
Welcome to the Jungle (Guns N’ Roses); see my notes on Crazy Train above
New Divide (LINKIN PARK); ok honestly this one’s a nostalgia trip for me but also just objectively I feel like it goes pretty hard regardless of what scene you were into during the 2010s and how many amvs you watched
Everlong (Foo Fighters); I mean come ON. do I even have to say anything
Panama (Van Halen); sets the hype tone for the rest of the song right away, also this is another one that’s so much better while you’re driving for some reason. whole song fucking slaps too
Whispers in the Dark (Skillet); it’s not right at the beginning like most of these other ones are but just. just give it 20 seconds I promise it’s worth it.
Monster (Skillet); while we’re on the topic. imagine trying to fight the weird kid allegations and then these two songs come on back to back. lol. couldn’t be me..
Smells Like Teen Spirit (Nirvana); ICONIC. changed the game forever and ever.
Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) (Big & Rich); this one’s mostly just here for that drop at the beginning cuz it’s actually pretty dope
The Adults Are Talking (the strokes); I can’t explain how this one makes me feel. but boy does it make me feel
Thank You For The Venom (My chemical romance); LITERALLY SO GOOD. sometimes I’ll listen to this song just to headbang to the intro and then skip the rest
Scotty Doesn’t Know (Lustra); this is embarrassingly near the top of my “songs I recognize within the first 0.1 seconds” list. we don’t need to talk about that tho
Headstrong (Trapt); even if you don’t know the name of this song you would recognize the intro, I’m sure of it
Puppet (Thousand Foot Krutch); this one had 14-15 year old me in a CHOKEHOLD OKAY and it still fucking slaps. I love this band.
Are You Gonna Be My Girl (Jet); fun fact the first time I heard this song was in the movie Flushed Away so now I always associate it with that 💀 but yeah this song bangs
Supremacy (Muse); gosh this whole song is just. like. RIDICULOUSLY good imo, the vocals the strings and drums combo,, the intro part lays the foundation tho. easily one of my favs out there
Iron Man (Black Sabbath); NO SHUT UP BC THE WAY IT SOUNDS LIKE A HEARTBEAT AND BREATHING ARE YOU KIDDING ME
Immigrant Song (Led Zeppelin); see notes for Crazy Train and Welcome to the Jungle
Living Dead Girl (Rob Zombie); gets stuck in my head a lot.
Something In Your Mouth (Nickelback); yes, I listen to them unironically and yes, this song made the list
Square Hammer (Ghost); honestly I listen to this song pretty much solely for the guitar track in it
Let It Happen (Tame Impala); I don’t know what instruments those are at the beginning but one of them sounds like a bass and regardless, the thing slaps so I’m including it bc I want to
link to the spotify playlist! (updated 2/23/24)
#unapologetically a lot of these are 80s rock songs#what can I say. they don’t write em like that anymore *finger guns*#anyways. will reblog every time I update <3#and pls send me songs w good guitar intros if you’d like!! I’m always looking for more songs hehe#eve's thoughts#there’s gonna be so much fob on this list once I get over my 80s rock obsession relapse oh lord#guitar intro songs list#<- so I can find it later lol#eve your undiagnosed autism is showing
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do you have any fragrance recs for masc summer scents?
Hey Anon,
I’m SO excited to answer this question and I hope you find something you like. I’ve put it all under read more so folks don’t hate me for clogging the dash.
I went through my collection and realized just how spring-forward mine is, but I can give you some *interesting* options to think about.
So when you ask for masculine - the average consumer thinks of like tobacco, leather, vetiver, cedar, and spices. And you’ll notice alllll of these tend to be more frequently associated with cooler months, notably the Autumnal ones. You’ll get some of them for base notes, but fragrances that highlight them are typically less Summery.
Summer on the other hand is typically associated with fruity, citrus, aquatic, and sometimes even a bit floral. So the fragrances reflect that.
See what I’m getting at here? So this was a fun challenge. And I’ve provided a bunch of options for you depending on your mood and budget. I will preface this however saying a LOT of fragrances these days are marketed as “unisex” so if you look most of these up, they won’t really be described as Masc, but I tried to lean away from florals (with some notable exceptions). For each of these, I’ve provided the fragrantica link so you can do some of your own digging. I tried to go with unconventional here. You aren't going to run into too many people wearing some of these around town.
You can try Scent Split (i swear it's a legit site, I use it) if you’d like to purchase tiny quantities of these... or some of the companies will provide discovery sets!
AQUATIC or BEACHY
Sailing Day
Klea
Sacred Water
Soleil Blanc
All of these are so incredibly different. I don’t own Sailing Day, but if my memory serves me, it’s fundamentally an “ocean-y scent but better” and highly affordable compared to the other two on this list. Klea is going to trend a little more floral but be more evocative of the Mediterranean Sea. Sacred Water is honestly the best aquatic I’ve smelled. It’s citrus-forward with some hints of floral, wood, and amber. Have you ever wanted to smell like the idea of tropical paradise and sunshine? That is Soleil Blanc. I have gotten many compliments wearing it. There’s a couple of variations from Tom Ford, but any will serve you well.
CITRUS
The Matcha 26
So *I* think this is a year-round scent, but most people consider it a spring/summer one! If you like “clean” smelling fragrances, this one has some fig, matcha and citrus with a woody undertone. It doesn’t give people headaches (that I know of) and it’s not very “loud” aka you walk into a room and everyone smells you.
AROMATIC
Bal d'Afrique
This one is ambery and woody with some zest! It’s subtle but smells so so so good. If you want a summer scent that’s non-intrusive and elevated, this one is perfect. Some folks say it smells almost peppery.
MISC.
The Soft Lawn
Ummagumma
Lampblack
The misc category is my favorite because these scents are odd but perfect. Please give these a shot.
Have you ever wanted to smell like … fresh tennis balls, but like… In a good way? Or maybe you like to smell like a manicured backyard of the 1%? Try The Soft Lawn by Imaginary Authors. Or do you want an edible and spicy/sweet fragrance you can wear into fall? Try Ummagumma.
BUT if you truly want a year-round fragrance that smells pretty close to what folks consider more masculine fragrances? Lampblack is your scent. I joke that it’s elevated Axe, but I’m serious in that it’s a great fragrance. It’s rich and spicy and I want to eat it. And it's much better than anything you'd find at Macy's (imo). Be be warned. One spritz is ENOUGH.
MASCULINE FLORALS (COULDNT HELP MYSELF)
Mojave Ghost
Anything from Boy Smells (try suede pony)
Mojave ghost is not a typical floral, in fact I think you’ll find it more woody/spicy than anything else. But like Bal d'Afrique, it’s pretty subtle on the skin. And then Boy Smells's whole BRAND is unisex/masculine florals. I am the minority in that I don't LOVE them, but they do such interesting things with their florals. And if you really want to lean into the tobacco/leather itc, they have you COVERED.
HOPE THIS HELPED YOU <3
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thoughts on how the mk boys would enjoy (or very much NOT enjoy) the beach? like would one hate sand, would one be terrified of the ocean, etc?
like imo i think steven could make a really cool sand castle (at least,, he thinks so) but perhaps he isnt the strongest swimmer and hates seaweed at his ankles. or something!
Ooooo this is actually a rlly fun idea!! (I’m not super familiar w English beaches or more tropical ones so most of this will b based on my north pacific US experience)
Marc I think likes going to the beach for the activities, otherwise he thinks it’s kind of boring. He likes looking up local hikes or sightseeing ventures, and drawing in the sand, and building little driftwood houses or sandcastles (which are always extremely detailed and neat), but he doesn’t like exploring sea caves and only likes dipping his toes in the tail end of the surf. Anything further is a bit… too much for him.
He likes the beach, and the ocean is cool, and maybe if it was a warmer climate he’d like it more, but cooler rockier beaches are a no go as far as swimming and small spaces go because they put him into… a bad headspace. Other than that I think he gets comically dadly with things, always trying to impress Layla or make her laugh. Like he’d grab a piece of seaweed and hold ot up to his face to imitate Jake only to immediately regret it because now there’s sand in his mouth and all he can smell is sea stink. Simple flip flops guy.
For Steven I think he likes going to the beach to sit and look for shells/cool rocks. He walks around a bit or sits on a log or on a blanket and watches the ocean and then when he’s ready he just packs up his stuff n goes home again. It’s a visit, not a stay. He doesn’t love going into the water because the rocks are always slick and he doesn’t like getting sand between his toes (he gets that enough already at home), and he’s not the best swimmer. He’s not a huge fan of hiking either, but he will take a book or a sandwich down and eat it by the shore for the day, and carry a few full conversations (that eventually devolve into insults) with the gulls and bugs that try and get at his food. He names each one so he can properly tell them off.
He loves the fresh air and the view, too, and he’d probably build a sand castle with Layla if she asked, but he’d keep wanting to wash his hands off because he can’t stand thinking of all the little gross things on the beach. He IS fascinated by sea creatures though so he’d love to poke around areas with barnacles and sea anemones and stuff. They aren’t his main field of interest but he can’t help examining little guys and mumbling excitedly about how cool they are. Definitely a sandals and socks man.
Jake I think is the most specific out of the three of them. He likes swimming no matter the beach climate because it clears his head, but beyond that all he really does is walk up and down the beach and then leave. He’s absolutely a chronic little thing collector though. Steven comes with the purpose to pick things up, but Jake will just see something shiny in the sand and dig it out with his gloves and stuff it in his pocket and go on. If he’s in front for beach visits they always leave with a little collection of things to take home. Just wears their normal shoes, he hates getting wet sand on his skin if it’s not gonna be washed off soon after.
#I love thinking of them in just… regular situations#moon knight#marc spector#steven grant#jake lockley#the fruit is talking again#the fruit is answering again#the fruit is headcanoning again#mikes mk meta
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Hi, ollie. I just wanted to ask a question. I've always admired your writing, your characterization, your voice, and everything. What advice (? Tip? Where to start?) would you give for someone who has trouble writing much less give voice to the characters they want to write (like me)? I'm desperate, I want to write. I just can't seem to start.
gday mate thanks for the sweet message
as for writing, it’s hard bc obviously i don’t know specifically what you’re struggling with but i’ll do my best (disclaimer, im not a professional, etc etc)
one: on whatever paper/document you are using, write some swear words. the worst ones you know, or your favourites. as many times as it takes for you to find it silly & a little fun. check it out! now the page isn’t frighteningly empty anymore & in fact seems to share your annoyance for having been empty
two: plot the scene you want to write. note down what kind of mood it is you want to create & to your collection of swears, add some descriptors. think about the senses - what you see, hear, smell, touch, taste, the temperature, maybe even the altitude. say you want to write about a forest—some descriptors might be old tall trees, smell of crushed leaves, peace. or maybe it’s not that kind of forest or not a peaceful scene at all—dying trees, brittle bark, smell of ash, frightened. in as many descriptors as you like, tell yourself what the environment & mood of the scene is. this doesn’t have to be impressive or life changing stuff, you are building the context & shape of the scene—like building a theatre stage & wheeling in the backdrop & figuring out the brightness of the lights.
next, briefly write what the purpose of the scene is. this could be something like: character A talks to character B about (thing). A wants thing but B won’t give it to them.
once you have that written down, you can start to expand on it. why does A want it? why does A need that thing? why does B refuse to hand it over? block it out—in this scenario, let’s say that the thing is a letter. (immediately i deleted the whole scene i wrote. agonising.)
character A enters the forest. character B is waiting for them. it is a secret meeting - they are both wary. small talk. A asks for the letter. B refuses - counteroffer, more money. A knows the letter is important but doesn’t have more money. A tells them they can get B more money but doesnt have it now. B refuses to give the letter until they are paid. A is desperate - attacks B. they fight. A wins. B is (injured/dead). & this is now a whole new problem for A.
when you have the descriptors & scaffolding for a scene, you will know: the Space it is set in, the Mood you want to create, and the Direction the scene is moving in.
after this, it’s a matter of writing the scene itself & i regret to inform you that there are as many ways of doing this as there are writers in the world. this is why people talk about “finding your voice” because the way you tell the story speaks to what you find to be important: what you find necessary to the scene; whose point of view you want to write from; how granular you get with descriptions of what they’re wearing—very important in, say, a romance or a courtly intrigue.
hopefully, having a scaffold for the scene & knowing where it starts & ends will help. i know it does for me.
three: the most important thing to remember about character imo is that they need to Want something. they’re the drive of the story, whether it’s a novel or a drabble. in this plotted scene, A wants the letter desperately & B wants money but there’s a second level to it as well. A wants the letter because of what it might reveal to them/about them & B wants to feel powerful, using a desperate person for their own ends. when you block out your scene, take a minute to think about what your characters want. Kurt Vonnegut wrote “Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.” think about that. think about how A is so worried about this letter that they haven’t paused to eat or drink. hunger gnawing at their belly. tongue stuck to the roof of their dry mouth, lips cracked.
as always, i suggest reading a story you love and taking the time to analyse scenes to uncover how the author is doing precisely this - how is mood & space being created, how do i know who is speaking & how they say it without character tags (a tag is the she said, she exclaimed, name said, name yelled), how does the scene move to create/release tension
i use prompts as a way of writing short scenes for character. there’s heaps of sites out there that will spit out random prompts for you if you want to practise doing something similar.
hope this helps, hope this is the kind of advice you were looking for. have an awesome day ☀️
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movie references in the road goes ever on
When I set out to write the road goes ever on, also affectionately known on this blog as ‘the monster longfic’, I did so with the goal in mind of making it as closely resemble an actual season of Stranger Things as I could. Part of the genetic makeup of a season of Stranger Things, though, is shot-for-shot recreations of scenes from classic movies of the era, something that was a little difficult to do in text. So...I got creative.
I threatened to do this once, and now it’s a reality. Here’s a list of every deliberate movie reference I can remember making in the fic. I may have missed one or two, since it’s been a while since I actually wrote it; if you spot something you think is a reference, it was definitely on purpose and deliberate and I will be taking all the credit for it, thank you.
Chapter One: Phone Home
The title of this chapter is, obviously, lifted from Steven Spielberg’s E.T. The Extraterrestrial (1982).
“You look like shit,” Steve says, and Robin flings the empty plastic case for Invasion of the Body Snatchers at his head.
...
It takes the girl who’s walked in what feels like hours to pick a movie. In the end, she rents Sixteen Candles and maybe flirts with Steve a little bit while he checks the movie out for her.
Do namedrops count? Season four said namedrops count, and I’ll take every opportunity I can steal from season four. That bitch owes me.
Jonathan grabs the empty fourth seat, across the table from his mom, and pulls a white paper carton towards him at random. “This smells great. Thanks.” He peers into the box. “What’s this?”
“Maggots,” Will says, innocently.
I lifted this gag directly from The Lost Boys (1987), which was a big inspiration for this fic and probably the movie I referenced the most. It doesn’t work quite as well when the person with the takeout carton of rice isn’t being hypnotised into seeing maggots, but oh well.
“I hear the new high school has a much nicer darkroom…”
“My whole life is a dark room,” Jonathan mutters to his ginger beef.
And this iconic line was, of course, stolen from Beetlejuice (1988). I made a post after my first watch of Stranger Things about how we all make fun of Jonathan for being an overdramatic emo, but if it had actually come out in the 80s he would be right up there in black and white gifs of the ‘I don’t like most people’ scene on all the goth blogs right beside Lydia quipping that she’s strange and unusual, so. Like mother, like son.
Chapter Two: Splitting the Party
“I’d rather have El back,” Mike says, setting his rifle against his shoulder and sighting down it. He fires, once, twice, three times in quick succession. Points scroll up across the screen.
I stuck this Duck Hunt video game into the Palace Arcade because I saw it in The Karate Kid (1984), so I’m counting this as an 80s movie reference.
Robin shakes her head again, waits a moment for the headrush to pass, then unties her Chucks and kicks them onto the floor. She doesn’t bother to take her sunglasses off, just collapses backwards onto her bed –
- and into shallow water.
In the camera of my imagination, this bit is shot in reference to that one scene in The Lost Boys where Michael drops off the trestle bridge and it transitions via superimposition to him lying across his bed at an awkward angle with his Wayfarers on. You may notice this is part of a pattern.
Chapter Three: Sleep All Day, Party All Night
This chapter’s title comes from the tagline for The Lost Boys. The full line is “Sleep all day. Party all night. It’s fun to be a vampire.” I picked it because this chapter is the motherlode of The Lost Boys references, and also because it introduces a nighttime meeting of the Party, so it’s also a bad pun.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you all watch that movie last night. You weren’t even supposed to see Fright Night! You and your friends all bought tickets for Follow That Bird!”
More namedrops - Fright Night (1985) is (imo) the inferior 80s teen-vampire-hunters horror-comedy, and Follow That Bird (1985) was a Sesame Street big-screen offering featuring Big Bird.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” Samantha says. “So. All I know about you is that you’re into photography, you’re a high school senior, and you have a little brother. Oh, and you’re capable of identifying Siouxsie Sioux by sight, you don’t like roller skating, and you prefer Evil Dead to French arthouse. What other essential Jonathan Byers facts should I know?”
Does it count to namedrop Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981) if it’s already shown up onscreen? I say yes.
“Maybe we should just have him over for dinner,” Lucas suggests, as Erica takes cloves of garlic out of the jar on the counter. “Make Italian. Grate some garlic, tell him it’s parmesan.”
Another gag from The Lost Boys, as is Lucas’ vampire-hunting getup in this same scene. He seemed like the most likely character to dress up like a Frog brother. I owe Joel Schumacher for the idea of water pistols full of holy water, too.
Samantha’s nodding, still with that too-knowing look. “Sure. Sure. Way more to it than some Revenge of the Nerds fantasy. Got it.”
“The sarcasm is not appreciated,” Jonathan says, and Samantha laughs again.
I didn’t love Revenge of the Nerds (1984), but you gotta admit, it and Jonathan/Nancy most likely came from the same sort of inspiration (disgruntled nerd boys from the 80s who couldn’t get a date with a ‘popular’ girl).
“Bet that burns, huh? Nosferatu?”
“What? No, it’s -” Steve shakes off his now-wet hand, feeling a little like he’s lost the plot. “Freezing. [...]”
I took this dialogue directly from The Lost Boys - actually, from the very dinner party scene where the teenage vampire hunters feed the suspected vampire grated garlic and tell him it’s parmesan.
“Oh no you don’t,” Erica says. “You are not leaving me alone with Eddie Munster.”
This works on two levels - it’s a namedrop from TV’s The Munsters (1964-1966), and it also nods to another line of dialogue from The Lost Boys, where one of the teenage vampire hunters refers to a child vampire freaking out at them as ‘the attack of Eddie Munster’. This is a reminder that this part of the fic was drafted before the second s4 teaser dropped; I’m pretty sure the Duffers and I just went to the same well on this one. (Tangentially related, but have I mentioned why I’m pretty sure Chrissy’s name is a reference to Stephen King’s Christine?)
Robin drops Firestarter back into its black plastic video-store-issue case, and grabs the next tape off the stack to rewind. If people would just rewind their own tapes when they were finished with them – well, maybe she wouldn’t have a job. But still.
Psychic. If she was psychic, would Robin really be working at some shitty minimum-wage job, mindlessly rewinding tapes and straightening shelves and keeping twelve-year-olds from renting Animal House – all right, not really trying all that hard to keep twelve-year-olds from renting Animal House, sue her - and trying not to drop dead of abject boredom?
...
She drops E.T. into the rewinder and starts it up, before picking up Firestarter and heading out to find its rightful place on the shelves.
More namedrops! We’ve seen Firestarter (1984) get a nod in the show already, in a poster outside Family Video in the epilogue of s3, and obviously E.T. was one of the major inspirations for Stranger Things. I tried to make sure all the movies that were referenced by name in the video store had some kind of thematic or plot relevance to whatever was going on at the time they were namedropped, although Animal House (1978) kind of breaks that pattern.
Chapter Four: 10-4
This chapter’s a little light on movie references, but I did sneak in one piece of dialogue I lifted from Labyrinth (1986):
“If you need us -” Mick starts, and Kali smiles.
“I’ll call.”
Chapter Five: Man’s Best Friend
Mike doesn’t answer. Mike’s busy staring at the boarded-up main door leading into the lab.
And the two guys in blue coveralls who’ve just come out of it.
Since all the costuming’s in the reader’s mind’s eye, I could easily tell you these #lewks were meant to be modelled off Michael Myers or Hannibal Lecter, but...nah, no, that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you. Just try and prove otherwise.
The creature gives a curious rumble. Robin forces herself not to move as it drops forward onto its knuckles, and pushes its head forward.
Into her hand.
Wrong era of movies, obviously, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least acknowledge the obvious influence of How to Train Your Dragon (2010) on this scene.
“Dart. And -” Dustin gestures with both hands towards the creature. “Gizmo!” He pauses, turning to give the creature a long look. “Yep, you’re definitely a Gizmo.”
The newly-christened Gizmo clicks at him, but Robin puts a hand on its flank and it settles.
“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you don’t feed it after midnight,” Steve says.
Gizmo is, of course, named after the friendly little monster from Gremlins (1984). What can I say, it seemed appropriate.
Joyce doesn’t find anything out of the ordinary, though. A chequebook. A wallet, with a Michigan driver’s license and a few credit cards in the name of Rhonda Williams, with a slightly younger Rhonda’s face smiling from them.
It is extremely not obvious at all, but Rhonda’s last name is another nod to Labyrinth.
Chapter Six: The Swarm
“Evil Ed,” Erica says, with a pointed stare at Lucas.
“Erica. Seriously. It’s not vampires.”
Erica is, of course, referring to a secondary character in Fright Night, who actually, believe it or not, got the ‘Evil’ part of his nickname before all the vampires even showed up.
“Who are you going to call from a pay phone?” Nancy asks, with this kind of pissed-off smile.
“The Ghostbusters,” Mike deadpans.
...
A note of hope works its way into her sarcasm as she says, “Unless that was all a horrible fever dream and that’s not actually a giant monster and I’m not actually telekinetic and covered in blood like a bad Carrie ripoff?”
“Sorry,” Steve says. “You’re still giving Sissy Spacek a run for her money.”
We’re still counting namedrops. Because I said so.
“Jesus Christ, Nancy!” Lucas calls from the backseat. There’s an edge of panic in it. “Pull off!”
[...]
Nancy lets out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. She says, “I won,” like she can’t believe it.
This passage, dialogue and all, was lifted straight from Stand By Me (1986). In the camera of my imagination, it’s a shot-for-shot recreation of the street racing scene.
“[...] And it never hurts to have a smoking gun.”
This fic’s version of the Hellfire Club was heavily inspired by The X-Files’ Smoking Gun. Obviously The X-Files is a TV show, not a movie, and it’s from the 90s, but I’m still including it here because I was very proud of myself for sneaking in a dialogue reference even though the show didn’t exist yet at the time the fic’s set.
Unlike Dustin, the giant, horrifying monster currently wearing – yep, those are Robin’s Wayfarers – at least has the decency to seem embarrassed.
Steve stands there with his hands on his hips and looks Gizmo – and the blue windbreaker and unconvincing curly grey-brown toupee it’s wearing – up and down. “No. Nope. That’s never gonna work,” he says.
Gizmo’s incredibly convincing disguise is a direct visual reference to the way the protagonists disguise Bernie’s corpse in Weekend at Bernie’s (1989). Gizmo’s just lucky that Dustin didn’t try to staple the toupee to its head.
“Okay, well, you guys come up with a brilliant plan to sneak him out of here, then! Because the whole town is crawling with feds, and he’s a little big to throw a blanket over and stick in a bike basket!”
Dustin’s obviously referencing E.T. here. And here:
“Don’t give me that look. I’ve seen E.T., I’ve seen Escape to Witch Mountain, I’ve ridden this carnival ride before. I know how this goes.”
Escape to Witch Mountain (1975) is about a pair of psychic twins who’re being hunted by people who want to use their powers. The psychics turn out to actually be aliens. As you can see, it’s slightly relevant.
Samantha taps her foot against the floor. “It’s still missing something.”
“Try this.” Will passes her the hat. It’s a huge, black cartwheel, with fabric bunched up around the crown. When Samantha settles it on El’s head, she unfolds the fabric, draping rose-patterned black lace over El’s face. If the makeup alone hadn’t made her unrecognizable, the makeup under the lace veil is definitely doing the trick.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t even know it was you under there,” Jonathan says.
El grins wider, pushing back the veil, and grabs her Polaroid camera off the dresser, holding it up to her eye to snap a picture of herself in the mirror.
Samantha grins, too, studying her handiwork. “Strange and unusual. Perfect.” She looks up at Will. “Where’d you find that hat?”
Will shrugs. “My mom had it in the back of her closet with a bunch of old stuff.”
Another visual reference. Sadly, they’re difficult to make work in text. This is Lydia’s introductory outfit from Beetlejuice, with the rose-lace veil from the scene with the line ‘My whole life is a dark room’. In the camera of my imagination, when El holds up the Polaroid instant camera, it’s a nod to the shot where Lydia first sees the Maitlands looking out of the attic window. The hat was found in the back of Joyce’s closet because Winona Ryder plays both her and Lydia, and I’m clever and hilarious. Obviously.
Steve glowers at her. Unfortunately for him, Robin knows that, of the three fistfights he’s gotten himself into ever, he’s lost two of them, and the only one he’d won was against Russia’s answer to the Keystone Kops. She can take him.
The Keystone Kops were the stars of a series of silent slapstick comedies in the early 1910s, and their bumbling, overenergetic, exaggerated reactions and general incompetence have been much imitated on film ever since.
Robin has to agree with him.
“Toto,” she says, turning in a slow circle, “we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”
You all recognise The Wizard of Oz (1939), right? Yeah you do.
Sam leans closer. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Murray doing the same. The screen’s actinic glare throws a sickly light on all of their faces as the four of them crowd in to read.
Does it count if the shot I’m recreating in my mind’s eye is from season 2 of the very show I’m writing fanfiction for? Because I imagined this as a funhouse-mirror version of that shot of the Party from the perspective looking up from the screen of the Dragon’s Lair game from s2e1.
Robin shoots him a look. “Unless your monster buddy can E.T. these bikes into the air, we’re not going any farther along this street.”
...
“Come on, pal, get your head in the game.” He immediately ruins it by glancing back over his shoulder and then adding, like this is some normal bullshit conversation about comic books or girls or whether the Terminator could beat the Alien, “Because if you don’t, we’re all gonna die. Again, no pressure.”
Namedrops!
Chapter Seven: The Rainbow Connection
The song ‘The Rainbow Connection’ came from The Muppet Movie (1979), so I’m counting it.
(this town is so small it only has Cantonese, she has to go all the way to Indianapolis for an edible Szechuan)
I based this version of Steve’s mom on Delia Deetz from Beetlejuice, and stole this complaint right out of Delia’s mouth.
“Really?” Jonathan raises a terrifyingly black-pencilled eyebrow at her. “I was thinking more Robert Smith. Or maybe Frank N. Furter.”
Of course Jonathan Byers has seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975). And of course so has Robin Buckley. I’m right.
“[...]Wouldn’t you want to see what kind of results you’re going to get before you go shooting yourself full of monster juice and hoping it’ll give you superpowers and not just, like, melt you down into a blob or give you a fly head or turn you into a giant uncontrollable green rage monster or whatever?”
Okay, technically, David Cronenberg’s remake of The Fly (1958) didn’t come out until 1986, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Dustin had caught the original on a late-night creature feature.
“So you have to get rid of this – mind flayer – before E.T. here can phone home?” Kali asks.
Listen, I never said I had a wide breadth of movie references. Just that there were a lot of them.
Chapter Eight: Project Unicorn
“You know, there’s one thing about living in Hawkins that I just can’t stomach,” Scott says. “All the -” He looks down, into the glare the girl – she can’t be more than ten – still has fixed on him. “Darn feds.”
One of the first things I knew when I set out to write this fic was that I had to put a paraphrase of the final line from The Lost Boys in Scott Clarke’s mouth.
Max’s smile is vicious and victorious and maybe the most beautiful thing Lucas has ever seen. “Maybe you should be asking yourself: do I feel lucky?”
The guy stops himself almost as soon as he starts to move, but Lucas doesn’t miss the way he starts to turn his head to look back at the door. He must be wondering, too, where his army of big guys with big weapons are. Why they haven’t come bursting in to rescue him yet.
Max gives the gun a little waggle. “Well? Do you?”
And yes, I do have Max quoting the most famously misremembered line from Dirty Harry (1971). An earlier draft of the fic actually had Lucas bring it up, later, but I cut it because it didn’t work.
Robin presses on. She’s seen It’s A Wonderful Life. She’s totally got this.
...
“[...] You’d have all the same problems – well, okay, not the giant monsters and Bond villains problems, but the other ones, about the future. And you never would’ve gotten to know any of us. You’d be all on your own.”
Namedrops!
“You bastards! You bastards, you killed my sister! You killed my sister! You shit-sucking, evil – You killed her! Nancy!”
This one might be a bit of a stretch, but The Lost Boys remains the only place I’ve ever actually heard someone use ‘shit-sucking’ as an insult.
A blunt, blind little knob of a head pokes up out of the gory mess that was Billy’s chest, glistening obscenely under the flickering lights.
Yeah it’s the chestburster scene from Alien (1979), and you know it.
Chapter Nine: The Fellowship of the Gate
“Son of a bitch!” Dustin gasps, flinging the first of the makeshift acid bombs. It bursts against the floor just in front of the leading edge of the swarm, spattering holes in the concrete and the advancing monster squad both.
I’m counting this as a namedrop for The Monster Squad (1987) because I used this specific phrasing on purpose.
“Okay,” Robin says to herself, looking all around her. She still can’t see anyone – or anything – that might be watching her. Only the endless, indistinguishable dark. “Kind of short on ruby slippers, here.”
Jokes referencing The Wizard of Oz are gimmes, but hey.
I did model El’s confrontation with Brenner in the mindscape after the climactic scene of Labyrinth, though I’m not sure it’s obvious.
Not that it seems like it cares, Jesus, is he trying to fight the Terminator here?
Naaaamedrops.
And, kneeling on the roof a few feet away, forehead pressed to forehead, clinging to each other like they’re each the only thing holding the other up –
Again, wrong era of movies, but I stole this visual from the denouement of Pacific Rim (2013). It seemed thematically appropriate.
“Steve, you look like hell.”
“Yeah, no shit, douchebag, I just got back.”
Slightly modified this dialogue from Heathers (1989). I also wanted to give Joyce an adapted line of Veronica’s (”Karen, my love, there’s a new police chief in town”) but unfortunately couldn’t make it fit.
When she mentions that to Steve, though, he just shrugs and says, “That’s the way it crumbles, cookie-wise,” and any disappointment Robin might have felt immediately goes straight out the window.
“Dingus! You actually watched The Apartment?”
The Apartment (1960) came up on TCM the New Year’s Eve of the year I first bingewatched Stranger Things seasons 1-3. Serendipity is real.
Steve looks so blindsided that Robin has to magnanimously offer, “We can even double feature with Star Wars, if you want. You know, the one with the teddy bears.”
Namedrops!
“Scared you’re gonna miss a code red?” Erica needles at him, and Lucas can’t help a disbelieving stare in her direction.
“Says the fearless vampire killer.”
I haven’t actually seen The Fearless Vampire Killers, or Pardon Me, But Your Teeth Are In My Neck (1967), but it has the best title in horror-comedy history.
“No way. You dorks are not depriving me of the chance to drop Mike in a bog of eternal stench. Not after Lucas made me waste a whole Saturday afternoon rolling this character.”
The Bog of Eternal Stench is, obviously, from Labyrinth.
“Jesus, Buckley,” Steve says, not bothering to try to hide how impressed he is. “At this rate you’ll be back to re-enacting Carrie by Christmas.”
And one last namedrop to wrap this roundup up!
By my count, that makes an even 60 references! (Even if I had to fudge a couple of those just a tiny little bit.)
#this is mary's fic tag#was this an excuse to reread my own fanfiction? what of it#i had a Lot of fun smuggling some of these into the fic
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arguments + genshin guys
prompt: anon requested “how do you feel about your favourite genshin boy(s) getting into an argument with their s/o?? :0’’
characters: kaeya, childe/tartaglia, diluc, zhongli, xiao, and albedo w/ a gender-neutral reader
word count: ~1.3k
warnings: arguing (duh), sfw, headcanons-ish style?
a/n: hope you don’t mind this style, anon! i felt like it could suit your request well and works far better than a full story (imo). still haven’t written much at all for albedo, i hope this works well!
albedo
albedo argues with disinterest, unsure as to why you’re acting so irrational about such a topic. his voice reeks with condescension, remaining eerily calm as he sidelines your concerns. it isn’t until you storm out of his lab, irate due to the alchemist talking down to you, that seeds of doubt plant themselves within albedo’s heart. when he arrives home far later than expected to your shared bedroom, only to find the bed empty, the slowly growing saplings erupt into trees.
their leaves clog up his lungs and the branches twist around his heart and up his throat as albedo tries not to panic over your absence. when you return the next morning, expecting albedo to be at work, you’re met with an uncharacteristically clingy hug from the blonde-haired man. his arms encircle around your waist as he apologizes, truly and genuinely. you murmur a soft apology in turn and hold him close to you, brushing away the leaves and trimming back the branches of anxiety within him.
childe/tartaglia
childe loves a fight, slamming the sharpened dagger of his words into any tense conversation, looking to cut. for the man that thrives on battle, the realm of verbal debate quenches the bloodlust that runs through his veins, albeit only temporarily. his inflection raises with ease and he looks to snip, slice, and annihilate his opponent, no matter who it is or what repercussions it may have. his methods are crude and brash in comparison to the graceful dance of water and electricity seen within the trenches of war and the fulfillment of his harbinger duties.
but as tears begin to fall, tartaglia sheathes his weapons and becomes the ajax you’re all too familiar with once more. “fuck you,” you scream at him, tears dripping down your face, but like the waters of the oceans he harnesses, your words stream right past him, evaporating on his skin with little to no effect. he’s wrapping you up in a hug, pressing kisses to your forehead as you shakily cry into his arms. in between the warm touches of his lips upon your skin, he sings sweet nothings and whispers soft apologies, letting the his weapons of words be cast out to sea as he emerges from the waters of war to rest on the beaches of your love. he rocks the two of you back and forth in a soothing motion, regretful of his earlier actions, realizing that the entire time, he had been seeking to destroy his most steadfast ally and not an almighty foe. there is no glory in a fight in which one betrays those who placed their trust within them.
diluc
an argument with diluc is like catching lightning in a bottle. the wine tycoon much prefers to hash out your relationship troubles in a more dignified manner than exchanging heated words with the one he loves most. however, if the circumstances are just right, the smoldering fields of diluc’s temper can reignite, leaving nothing behind but scorched terrain and ashes of what once was. unlike a blazing inferno, diluc’s words are crafted of cold steel, foreboding and akin to those of a hungry tiger, freshly awoken from a deep sleep.
however, diluc does not roar but instead struggles to keep his composure. the anger that churns within the oceans of his mind combats with the high heavens of his rationality. when ares and athena clash within diluc’s mind, both seeking victory but viewing the means to an end in different ethical lenses, emotional turmoil erupts and diluc flees the scene, evacuating before he can cause irreparable damage. he’ll return before you sleep with a bouquet of mondstadt’s finest cecelias and a bashful, nervous smile as he hopes you accept his pleas for forgiveness, for both ares and athena are swayed by the powers of aphrodite and eros, who command his heart when it comes to you.
kaeya
kaeya shrouds his words in secrecy, like all other aspects of his life. arguments emerge from the icy depths of his mind, fueled by his desire for you to view him as no less than perfect. they settle on the short-lived cryo platforms that float on the dark recesses of his mind, shielding you from the inner turmoil that lies within. his negative thoughts showcase themselves in bitter words, only emerging when provoked. kaeya much prefers to live in a blissful lie than facing the reality that you wish to know more about him and wish to see him in a vulnerable manner.
he doesn’t let you in for a reason and fails to understand why you can’t accept this. the cavalry captain is baffled when you beg him for more information on who he is, when you plead for him to just let you in and to let you love him. his frustration emerges, not knowing why you can’t realize that kaeya’s trying to protect you from his past. he selfishly keeps you close, not wanting to let you in, not wanting to lose you like the family he loved in the past, but fails to realize such a combative reaction to love will only result in the death of romance all the same.
xiao
xiao finds himself arguing with you when you put yourself in harms way. the adeptus is far, far too aware that he only has limited time with you and wishes to have every moment with you be a positive one. like a slippery eel, xiao navigates with ease past the treacherous threats of dissonance that threaten to upend the calming melody of your relationship. in xiao’s eyes, you are his refuge, his home, his oasis from the pain and realities of life that afflict him every day.
therefore, the amber-eyed yaksha’s anger only truly appears when something threatens to take you from him prematurely, especially when you put yourself at risk unnecessarily. his lover might have a penchant for swinging their sword in the rendezvous of war with a dangerous opponent, but if xiao even smells a hint of danger on your head, he’s quick to use the powers of wind bestowed to him by barbatos to separate the two of you and challenge your foe himself, before rearing the ugly head of his anger upon you. xiao loves you, he truly does, but he wants to be able to love you for as long as your lifespan determines him to be capable of doing, not based upon the decisions of someone else’s blade.
zhongli
zhongli is a composed, refined man who much prefers the warmth of a soothing tea than the heat from bitterly exchanged words. his attitude is that of stone, reliable and calming, a steady structure that one can build a foundation upon. however, even the tallest of mountains will inevitably fall to the forces of erosion. such a temper arises from zhongli’s unhealthy desire to shed his former mantle of being the god of war and to walk among his people, but zhongli has yet to learn that to anger is to be human.
therefore he lets the mountains of his resolve wither away until there is none left, revealing the boiling magma of his temper within. his words are uttered in a low, steady tone, seething with anger at your actions as he struggles to navigate through such human feelings, for he cannot drive spears of earth into the fragile tapestries of love without decimating everything he’s worked so hard for in the process. zhongli’s words are terse, but, like all magma, zhongli’s temper rapidly cools into a new layer of firm stone, in which he bases his apologies upon.
he’s unsure of how to navigate the humanities of aggravation, but if you’ll indulge him, maybe the two of you can work it out over a nice, calm cup of tea.
#its 5 am and i cant sleep. hopefully this is coherent#i like water metaphors#update: it is now 6 am#diluc x reader#zhongli x reader#kaeya x reader#albedo x reader#childe x reader#xiao x reader#genshin impact x reader#tartaglia x reader#diluc headcanons#zhongli headcanons#kaeya headcanons#albedo headcanons#childe headcanons#xiao headcanons#genshin impact headcanons#*writing#*headcanons#*xiao#*zhongli#*diluc#*albedo#*kaeya#*childe#*tartaglia
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His Dark Materials Thoughts: Daemons and Disability / Neurodivergence
More stupid His Dark Materials thoughts and headcanons because I still can’t get over this series.
I’m really curious how various disabilities would interact with having a daemon. I’d guess that for a lot of conditions the daemon could basically fill the role of a service animal, especially if the person had the condition from childhood so they could settle in a form that was capable of helping - e.g. daemons assuming forms with strong senses of smell to check for allergens. And this would probably be true for some neurological conditions where there’s something physically messed up in your brain.
However, I think for neurodivergency, it’s different: if the human is neurodivergent their daemon is neurodivergent as well. And while a human and daemon are “one being,” daemons still have their own personalities and emotional needs.
Using autism as an example because I’m autistic and can speculate based on my own experiences:
Autistic people are usually very close to their daemons, even by the standards of the setting, because while anyone’s daemon inherently understands them better than other people do, the gap is much, much wider for ND people. Real talk, I think I was drawn to this series and the concept of daemons so strongly because the idea of a companion I could fully trust and interact with without the constant fear of breaking some unknown and unspoken rule and who fully empathized with me was something I wanted soooo badly.
A lot more sensory information is “transmitted” between human and daemon than most people notice because the brain tends to filter it out. Autistic people’s brains aren’t as good at filtering out “junk” sensory info though, and this includes what comes through over the bond between them. You can’t actually see through your daemon’s eyes but autistic people tend to feel shared sensations more intensely and pick up on things like smells and textures that a neurotypical brain would tune out (and this works in both directions). This makes autistic people more vulnerable to sensory overload than in our world.
Sometimes only one of the pair is verbal, or at least verbal with others / much more comfortable talking to others. If it’s the human, people tend to not notice because “daemons should be seen and not heard” is kind of the norm in the setting but if the daemon is speaking for the pair most of the time it’s seen as weird. Some autistic people may also be more comfortable talking to other people’s daemons than to the humans, which isn’t technically part of the taboo but it’s pretty frowned upon.
For both tactile-seeking and tactile-defensive people, the daemon’s settled form is often determined by the need for physical affection - either because as they grow into teenagers it becomes less socially acceptable to touch other people as much as they need to, or because the only touch that feels safe for the pair is with each other. A settled form doesn’t always follow the human’s preference, but is always a form the daemon is comfortable with and likes. Daemons settling in forms their human actively hates is rare, and usually means there was already serious conflict between them with the human refusing to accept their nature - i.e. sailors’ daemons usually take seabird forms or mammals like otters or minks that can stray away from the water, settling in a dolphin form was noteworthy for a reason because it’s such a drastic act, and IMO that was probably caused by the human trying to abandon the sea entirely and fighting with his own daemon about it until she was like “Let’s see you take us away from the sea now!”
But anyway: daemons don’t just settle in forms based on symbolism or social convention if it’s going to make both them and their humans miserable and/or mess up their relationship IMO, and usually they show a preference for forms similar to their settled one in the years leading up to settling (e.g. Pantalaimon clearly liked his stoat/ferret and wildcat forms and mostly took other ones for reasons of practicality and convenience, and I said this in another post but I think he became a pine marten because it was the closest he could get to combining the two). If a pre-adolescent human and daemon are super cuddly with each other and that touch is really important to them, the daemon will probably settle in a form that’s compatible with that. It’s rare for autistic daemons to settle as something as small as a mouse where they could only be carefully pet with one or two fingers, for example, and they usually take mammalian or sometimes avian forms.
Brushing a daemon’s fur, and other techniques such as joint compression that are hard for a person to perform on their own body, can help both of the pair calm down and cope with sensory issues.
Unfortunately, given how fucked up the culture in Lyra’s world is, I shudder to imagine how they treat neurodivergent people. I can totally imagine people treating this closeness as the cause of autism and not a symptom, and treating it as a child “being socially impaired because they only interact with their daemon / let their daemon do too much for them and never learn to socialize with other people.” Aside from attempting to cure autism with Intercision, there are probably a bunch of horrible, abusive treatments passed off as “therapy,” like forcing children to do therapy sessions with their daemon trapped on the other side of an opaque, soundproof wall (doesn’t interfere with their bond if it’s within the separation limit, but keeps them from seeing / hearing / touching each other), caging the daemon, muzzling them to keep them from speaking for their human, or even not letting them sleep in the same room.
Another common problem is parents / educators treating an autistic person’s daemon like a service animal and offloading their responsibilities on them. Just expecting them to handle something like a meltdown or panic attack by themselves because “You’re part of them, you understand them!” and ignoring that the daemon also has fears and anxieties and sensory issues.
Expectation: Your autistic child’s daemon understands them better than you ever could and will be able to quickly and discretely calm them down from a meltdown / sensory overload without you needing to get involved and actually do your job as a parent.
Reality: You have two autistic children who share a soul and feel each other’s emotions and pain, and one of them likely has at least one sense that’s way more sensitive than a human’s. They can certainly be a source of comfort and support to each other, and can pick up on each other’s warning signs and remind each other to use coping strategies / get out of stressful situations and not try to “push through,” but this is a skill that takes time and maturity to learn, and it only works before the pair are completely overwhelmed. As stated above autistic people feel sensations and emotions from their daemon extra-intensely, and vice versa. A full-on meltdown or panic attack is such an overpowering flood of negative emotions that, combined with the stress of whatever caused the meltdown in the first place, usually just overwhelms both partners, especially in children. The best you can hope for is whichever one holds it together a bit longer is able to help their partner into a safe place and ask someone for help. Even if the daemon (or human) doesn’t have a meltdown their emotional battery will still be absolutely drained for probably the rest of the day.
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Hey, asoiaf fandom, quick question here but am I the only one who gets deeply uncomfortable by the tone of the discussions surrounding Arya and her relationship with traditional gender roles/feminity? Not only because of the wrong assumptions a lot of people have about Arya looking down on traditional feminine activities like sewing, which she most definitely doesn’t, but also because there’s very glaring inherent classism in those claims.
Not only has Arya (that is, book Arya) never looked down on other women or the work that historically has been associated with them, but she has also partaked in said work herself.
Several times, in fact, and across numerous of her POV chapters:
Whatever names Harren the Black had meant to give his towers were long forgotten. (...) Arya slept in a shallow niche in the cavernous vaults beneath the Wailing Tower, on a bed of straw. She had water to wash in whenever she liked, a chunk of soap. The work was hard, but no harder than walking miles every day. Weasel did not need to find worms and bugs to eat, as Arry had; there was bread every day, and barley stews with bits of carrot and turnip, and once a fortnight even a bite of meat.—aCoK, Arya VII.
Weese used Arya to run messages, draw water, and fetch food, and sometimes to serve at table in the Barracks Hall above the armory, where the men-at-arms took their meals. But most of her work was cleaning. The ground floor of the Wailing Tower was given over to storerooms and granaries, and two floors above housed part of the garrison, but the upper stories had not been occupied for eighty years. Now Lord Tywin had commanded that they be made fit for habitation again. There were floors to be scrubbed, grime to be washed off windows, broken chairs and rotted beds to be carried off. The topmost story was infested with nests of the huge black bats that House Whent had used for its sigil, and there were rats in the cellars as well . . . and ghosts, some said, the spirits of Harren the Black and his sons.—aCoK, Arya VII.
"I saw you looking at me." Weese wiped his fingers on the front of her shift. Then he grabbed her throat with one hand and slapped her with the other. "What did I tell you?" He slapped her again, backhand. "Keep those eyes to yourself, or next time I'll spoon one out and feed it to my bitch." A shove sent her stumbling to the floor. Her hem caught on a loose nail in the splintered wooden bench and ripped as she fell. "You'll mend that before you sleep," Weese announced as he pulled the last bit of meat off the capon. When he was finished he sucked his fingers noisily, and threw the bones to his ugly spotted dog.
"Weese," Arya whispered that night as she bent over the tear in her shift. "Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling," she said, calling a name every time she pushed the bone needle through the undyed wool. "The Tickler and the Hound. Ser Gregor, Ser Amory, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, King Joffrey, Queen Cersei."—aCoK, Arya VII.
This last quote is interesting, because given Arya’s circumstances in which she has to hide her own identity, she’s not warranted the protection a high-born lady would usually receive, and her punishments are often not only related to physical abuse, but through forced labor as well.
She spent the next few hours tending to the lord's chambers. She swept out the old rushes and scattered fresh sweet-smelling ones, laid a fresh fire in the hearth, changed the linens and fluffed the featherbed, emptied the chamber pots down the privy shaft and scrubbed them out, carried an armload of soiled clothing to the washerwomen, and brought up a bowl of crisp autumn pears from the kitchen. When she was done with the bedchamber, she went down half a flight of stairs to do the same in the great solar, a spare drafty room as large as the halls of many a smaller castle. The candles were down to stubs, so Arya changed them out.
(...)
The afternoon was still young by the time she was done, so Arya took herself off to the godswood.—aCoK, Arya VX.
She got along well enough with the cook. Umma would slap a knife into her hand and point at an onion, and Arya would chop it. Umma would shove her toward a mound of dough, and Arya would knead it until the cook said stop (stop was the first Braavosi word she learned). Umma would hand her a fish, and Arya would bone it and fillet it and roll it in the nuts the cook was crushing. (..) Some nights Umma spiced the fish with sea salt and cracked peppercorns, or cooked the eels with chopped garlic. Once in a great while the cook would even use some saffron. Hot Pie would have liked it here, Arya thought.—aFoC, Arya II.
She had other tasks besides helping Umma. She swept the temple floors; she served and poured at meals; she sorted piles of dead men's clothing, emptied their purses, and counted out stacks of queer coins.—aFoC, Arya II.
And the reason this—hugely important, imo—part of her narrative is so often ignored by fandom discourse is very obvious to me. It is because unlike the activities traditionally performed by upper-class, rich women, which are very frequently glorified by fans (alongside other aspects of the feudalist system that honestly would take way too much time and effort to unpack, but I digress), lower class feminity is simply not as pretty, the hard labor these women would be subjected to is not aesthetically pleasing. Don’t get me wrong, they were abused by the patriarchy the same way upper-class women were, but their suffering was never romanticized or immortalized in a song, their victimhood wouldn’t be cause for outrage, and more often than not, their work and existence would be completely erased.
Arya’s feminity doesn’t cease to exist just because she has to do hard work associated with lower-class women, or because she expresses interests that differ from what is usually expected of rich women. Her experiences as a girl, being exposed to all kinds of abuse perpetrated by men can’t be simply swept under the rug. A great deal of her journey is related to how much the plight of the lower classes matters, that children like Mycah, like Layna, like Gendry and Lommy and Hot Pie and Jeyne Poole, they all matter. And yes, sometimes Arya’s Stark name has given her protection, but other times, the majority of the time, she’s not been in a position in which she can use it as shield, and she’s had to work with her hands and fight for her life and has seen and done horrible things, or else the only other option for her was to end dead on a ditch, like countless other women and children the world has deemed too unimportant to mourn.
#this fandom is classist af that’s what i’m trying to say here#but tell me i’m wrong#arya stark#wolf queen#arya meta#asoiaf#asoiaf meta#a song of ice and fire#valyrianscrolls#meta#my meta
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The Eye of the World Ch 48-49
Enter the Blight; horror, poetry, and romance? Also run. Run for flaming your life!
Well, this is the third to last one of these. We’re reaching… the end now. Pretty fun ride so far, curious to see exactly how it wraps up.
Disclaimer: this is my first read thru but I’ve watched all of the show this far and been spoiled on some book things. So… I’m going to lean into that. Enjoy figuring out what I know, and what I think I know, and what I just don’t. Also s/x I add commentary when I edit.
Spoilers for the first book and up to the most recent episode under the cut. Potential spoilers for latter books.
Ch 48: The Blight
Like, a messed up willow tree this time (Editor me I’m callin it Blight Tree)
RJ really knew how to name chapters.
Ingtar is the Gray Owl. Cool
There are so many towers! Just so many.
Oh watch and comms towers? Ok makes sense
Changing it to Sedai as the last name instead of Aes Sedai was a good idea imo for the show
Yea bye. But… honestly too bad Ingtar seems cool
Oh yea ‘I thirst for battle and now imma be late :(‘ —Ingtar (probably)
“He can have my place.” Mat. Lol. Do hi want his?
That’s nice
“Joined into a greater serpent, they would turn north to Tarwin’s Gap.” -eotw. Serpent? Describing how the forces of Shienar march to battle at the Gap.
Oh so it’s like, a whole kingdoms problem. Not just Fal Dara. Ok. Cool. Got it
Isn’t the Blight warm?
We have been robbed…
What the fuck?! The Blight is fucked!
I… I am not going to describe that creature
Yea. This time. Srsly. Don’t fucking touch!
I will never get over “Mountains of Dhoom”
Ya no… actually I’m fine I— the show doesn’t want to uh, *this*. Just turn that down a bit. Yup.
I’d honestly be Mat here. Probably worse
Loial has the right idea. Mask up!
I can not believe in the show Rand and Moiraine went in alone. Truly no brain cells
Of course not
Good for him! How tho?
Fetor: a strong, foul smell. I have never seen this word. & understand that is saying something. I don’t like to brag but wow. Really dug deep for that one
So… another cursed place they have to sleep.
Was it part of Malkier or something?
Wait is it news that the Eye moves?
Well it is to Egwene and I suppose that’s all that matters
The hell you mean “truly in the Blight Lan” this is still the transition zone? *frowning horrified face of wtf*
Again I’m with Rand. “If this isn’t truly the Blight, what is?” -Rand thinking to himself
“Not hills. The broken remnants of seven towers.” -teotw. The group prepares to rest in -shadow of- the ruins of Malkier.
… as suspected. Sry Lan
Don’t think you want to do that Nynaeve. For sure no Mat. Don’t touch the cursed water either
Yup. The water has a monster in it. That’s just full cosmic horror right there. And kaiju I guess?
How did it get worse?! Ohhh. Nooo
That’s also cronenburg body horror shit.
“‘On second thought,’ Mat said faintly, ‘I like it right here just fine.’”
Oh. Alarm! Yaayyy heheh. This is fine /s
Your denial game is truly next level Rand.
… oh nvm. Maybe
What just happened? Everyone disappeared from Rand’s perspective?
Ok. So Moiraine did some magic?
I guess let’s talk about our future plans. Sure. Why not?
Rand just wants to go back home to his fucking farm. And I can not fault him rn.
I’m sure that will totally work out. Ok tbh moving this conversation to Fal Dara makes too much sense. It is jarring here! Like ‘we’re in one of the three scariest places ever. Let’s talk about life plans’. Egwene are… you are also in some place. Idk what. And respect, keeping your eyes on the prize, but wow is it weird rn.
Uh. You put a blanket under you tho right?
I mean I imagine it’s also the stress keeping you up. Like heat insomnia is real but also, stress insomnia
Uhh ok. Is …
Soo. So. She… they -Nynaeve and Lan- really just discussed marriage. Marriage. And Rand is like just >.> ‘wut?’
But honestly… that, they were some fucking good lines. “I will never shame you. I will hate the man you chose because he is not me, and love him if he makes you smile. No women deserves the sure knowledge of widow’s black as her brideprice, least of all you.” -Lan. Sir your are a poet and that is all just melodramatic tragic romance. Ok.
“Nynaeve remained there, kneeling, after he had gone.” & “Sleep or no, Rand closed his eyes. He did not think the Wisdom would like it if he watched her cry.”
Chapter end!
That… that was a lot.
Ch 49: The Dark One Stirs
5 chapters left!
Imma call it the Blight tree (yes that’s when I decided that)
Not an ominous title at all /s
Rand POV. Do I need to keep going this? I really strongly suspect it gonna be just him the rest of the book
Well that’s a relief actually. At least the sky is still blue
Oof
“LAN’s face was harder than ever, as if he had resumed a mask and did not intend to let it slip again.” -eotw. Poor guy.
Lol. They do not.
What the hell is a ‘saddle girth’?
Lol. Ok sorry. But Rand’s perspective on Lan being unbothered when more likely he is just stewing in feelings and pushing them down. The tragedy of Malkier and rejecting Nynaeve even tho he wants to be with her are basically equal in his mind right now. Imo
Can’t wait to find out what that exchange was about (editor me: we do find out right?)
Tbh I forgot Loial was here for a good minute
I’m glad he is!
Moiraine is so confident
Back to the flaming cursed thing that is the Blight
When do the trees grow leaves? How… how does any of this work? This is more creepy, because it doesn’t make sense! Will it makes sense?
Oh no. Gross. No!
No, no I think Mat is right. Everything here is designed to and desires to kill you
Nynaeve is just afraid of her fear
Yup. See Moiraine agrees with Mat! No not a joke dude. You’re right!
… also glad you have some sort of defense to be here alone. Magic!
Yup. Trees are hunting. Fucking hunting
I feel like gloves for everyone might have been a good investment despite the heat
Lan! No!
Well he back. But uh. Acid blood? Nnnnnn. Mm-mm. No
Horrid cyclops. Bad. Go Mat tho. “Mat’s arrow flashed, piercing the one eye…”
Nvm worse than a cyclops. Horrid cyclops many limbed giant thing. Bad. No.
Oh shit. It just gets worse. Gotta run. Again
‘An adventure story’ they said ‘like lotr’ they said. Yea if lotr was on a real bad acid trip and leaned heavily towards ‘oh fuck run. Run!’ For most of the adventure part of the story. Which… I’m not going to say I dislike. I’m having a great and horrifying time!
Still don’t see most of this happening on screen and again I get it. Fair. Also plz no in some cases. But also… could be an award winning episode at some point on this material alone
Mat was flaming right! The trees are now trying to grab them!
Now the trees may be screaming.
This is great! Swung back to epic fantasy. Fireball! Pretty well actually too
What with the pipes? What’s that? Is that good? Bad? (I shortly learn it’s bad. But now why it sounds like that ever. Dot. Like that)
What the hell is a Worm? Cuz that sounds more like Wyrm worm than earth worm. Or like… tremors or dune. Why does it have flute sound? Don’t like that either
Oh plz let something good be in the high passes. We learn a Worm can kill a Fade but is “afraid of what lives in the high passes.” ???
How else would we know to be afraid? Details are vital
I don’t like all the squishing! Bad noise.
Also “Wormpack” maybe start with that. This is no!
Oh thank the light it’s a good thing. Haha. Worms don’t like healthy land! Way! It’s fine now. Right?
The Green Man!
Flaming cryptic hermit words.
He is literally a Green Man… literally a green giant. Because he’s made of greenery. (I’m so sry)
…Is it weird the tim kinda hungry?
“Strange clothes you wear, Child off the Dragon. Has the Wheel turned so far? Do the People of the Dragon return to the first Covenant? But you wear a sword. That is neither now nor then.” -The Green Man to Rand. It’s… it’s the first book.
???
Amnesiac Green Man??
And now they will go to the Eye! Cool.
#many thoughts on twot teotw#< block or filter to stop seeing these posts#the wheel of time#wheel of time#wot#wot book spoilers#twot book#twot book spoilers#eotw spoilers#eye of the world#the eye of the world
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hi honeyyy can i have nsfw a-z alphabet for tsukishima please 👉👈? thank you 💞
I’ve had this in my inbox for like a month I am SORRY.
*deep inhale* TSUKKI FUCKERS RUN IN HERE AND GET Y’ALL JUICE
NSFW Alphabet: Tsukishima Kei
Gn!reader focused
Nsfw under the cut but you knew that...
𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊
I actually feel like he’s not too big on this part. He will 100% do what he needs to make you feel comfortable if he’s been particularly hard on you, but he will do the bare minimum, simply because he’s not the best at being very soft. It’s just not him. I feel like he actually would prefer to be alone and recollect himself rather than cuddle and do pillow talk. That doesn’t mean that he won’t if you need it, he most definitely will because he knows how important it is. Just don’t expect to be babied.
𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙
FINGERS FINGERS FINGERS I WILL NOT STOP SCREAMING ABOUT THEM! They’re long and slender- they always fit perfectly inside or around your neck or in your mouth and just... yes. Yes to his fingers.
For him, it’s all about the eyes. He loves looking at your eyes and the various emotions they convey to him, be it adoration, panic, arousal, devotion… he loves looking directly into your pretty eyes as he takes you.
𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒
In your mouth. I can’t explain why I’m right but I’m right. I don’t think he’s a fan of mess per-se, but from time to time he will want to cum on your face/chest for a lil ✨humiliation✨. I’m also positive he drinks water so when he tells you to swallow it won’t be radioactive or thick like tar. Good job to him for that. (God the bar is on the mf floor)
𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙
You caught him jacking off one time and he actually makes the prettiest noises- he’s usually pretty quiet with you but by himself it’s actually symphonic how desperate he sounds. He doesn’t know you saw him, but now you ONLY think about how his name spilled out of your lips each time you touch yourself too.
𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊
Has much more experience in theory than in practice. He’s VERY knowledgeable about topics primarily based on his own research. He can implement just about anything to your liking though, which is the real reason he’s a great fuck. He’s adaptable without sacrificing too much of his own pleasure.
𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
This can go one of two ways imo- If he’s feeling lazy, he’ll sit in a chair and have you ride him. If he’s actually putting in work, he’ll hold one of your legs up/back (never both bc it’d probably kill you) or he’ll flip you into doggy, but he’ll make sure you keep your arch as low as possible, so you’re almost parallel to the mattress.
𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞
Lmfao no.
𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗
He’s very well groomed as well. His hair is darker than his blonde locks, but he prefers keeping it short and neat. Not completely shaven, but trimmed on a schedule tbh. Also never smells like ball sweat.
𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞
You would think a super sadist like Tsukishima doesn’t do the romantic gestures, but he does little things like making sure you’re stable and secure when he’s holding you up, or giving some VERY light praise when you take him well- you have to put attention or you’ll miss them.
𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋
Tries his best to act like he doesn’t- but he does fairly often. Probably once a week tbh. He makes sure that he’s completely alone tho, because he’s very vulnerable and loud… also aggressive? It’s just a complete 180 from what he’s like with you and he doesn’t want you to know that. But he whines and whimpers the entire time, cumming in his fist and laying there convulsing.
𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐
Sadism is the overall mf flavor. But we knew that. Let’s delve a little deeper:
Impact Play, yes very much. Likes spanking as a punishment, but will also slap you in the face from time to time, especially if you’re not answering him or being loud enough to his liking.
Temperature Play, prefers using heat over cold, so he would definitely be into wax. Also turns on the heat in your room when you’re fucking like it’s hot yoga or some shit.
Degradation/Humiliation, has you make messes on purpose, just so he can tease you about it later. Calls you mean names the entire time- but they’re peppered with the tiniest praises, he will follow pretty with cockslut, and such. Will ALWAYS refer to you as his “messy little bitch” without fail. It’s his go-to. Also a fan of “fucktoy” and “pathetic cocksleeve”
Auralism, specifically likes when your moans are choked out sobs, or when you work your voice so raw that it gets scratchy and hoarse. Likes to hear you in general, and will always ask you for a response. Also talks you through your orgasms with little things like “that’s it” and “keep cumming”
Dacryphilia, oh god he loves to see you cry. That’s the one thing that can make him cum almost immediately.
He also HATES a bratty sub. Needs someone who is very obedient. Likes to be called Sir.
𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
Literally ONLY in private. He’s all about control and knows that he can assert that control in every way possible in the bedroom. And even though he gets off on humiliation, it’s only when he’s the one doing it- proving he owns you without the threat of lingering eyes.
Would be the type to totally soundproof a room in your house tho, if you’re picking up why I’m putting down. Has gotten several “home improvement” project ideas from kinktok.
𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓
His goal is to break you. No matter how many times he’s done it before, he always wants to see that perfectly fucked out glassy sheen coat your eyes as they’re filled to the brim with tears- and complete devotuon and total submission to him.
𝕹 - 𝕹𝕺!
He is never going to submit to you. It’s just not going to happen. Give it up, deelishis.
𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑
Is not the biggest fan of going down on you, prefers using his fingers/other toys. But he LOVES facefucking you. Especially if he can make you cry with how much his cock is bruising your throat.
𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊
It’s mostly even. Mostly. He definitely will edge as a punishment, snapping his hips into you violently, only to stop completely just when your eyes start to roll back. He definitely likes to maintain control of his own orgasm though so he likes to keep a nice even pace if you’re not being a brat.
𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊
Wont outright fuck you in public but would use remote controlled toys on you. He prefers taking his time with you, building you up super slowly so that he can knock you the fuck down in an instant.
𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐
If you think you can try him, no you can’t. He will shut it down IMMEDIATELY. Again, he’s not one for super public scenes, so he’s good at keeping a poker face whenever you decide to get bold… but you have to be prepared because your punishment is either going to be super harsh or nothing at all- and I honestly can’t tell you which is worse when it comes to him.
𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆
It depends on how he’s feeling. If you’ve been good he’ll get right to the point but if you’ve been disobeying him then be prepared to have your sessions drawn out. He can go on edging you for hours and not feel a single thing. He can still last a relatively long time if he’s actually fucking you as well, a good 45-an hour before he even thinks about cumming. And that’s just thinking about it. He can still go a bit longer after the fact. He won’t cum until you’ve cum at least 2-3 times if he’s being nice.
𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞
He has a few toys that he likes to use as punishment, primarily small vibrators that he can put inside of you to have you coming undone before he even touches you. When he finally does, you're a wet, whining mess and all he has to say is that you’re pathetic for not being able to even wait for him to touch you.
𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗
Hates being teased. Don’t even try or think about trying it. Doesn’t necessarily tease you either, at least not TOO much. Will edge you to hell and back though.
𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊
Doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of hearing how pretty he truly sounds, so a lot of his moans come out as long sighs and deep grunts that he catches in the back of his throat. And that’s only when he’s close.
He does talk a lot though, and is vocal in that sense- you’ll hear a lot of commands from him. You have to ask him for permission to cum, so there’s a lot of call and response when it comes to your sessions.
𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉
He has this fantasy where he’s essentially his partner’s sex toy master and you’re the toy, He would use remote-control vibrators to make you come throughout the day. You don’t get a say in when you come, it’s just whenever he wants. In front of your boss, on the train, when you're trying to go shopping, whenever. It’s equal parts humiliating and sexy for you both, because you can’t stop orgasming. You’re completely at his mercy.
𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞
He’s a good size, a solid 6.5-7 with a decent girth. More of a shower than a grower and actually has a fairly pretty dick. Fair but even in color, suuuuper pretty and pink at the head.
𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌
Even though he’s about exerting complete control, and also the type to never let on that he’s needy, he is. His sex drive is slightly higher than yours... But you’d never know. He’s just that good at 1) covering it up, and 2) flipping the script to always make you seem like cockhungry one... asshole
𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟
No sleeping. Tbh I feel like he’s one of those people who actually gets a burst of energy after. But he’s not sleeping at all. He’s just gonna go back to his headphones or some quiet activities until you wake up.
Taglist Starseeds (check ur privacy settings if your url is in bold): @super-noya @crushzone @yumekosgamblingroom @boujiesav @onesingleravioli @ushijimasfarmhat @trouvelle @nekoma-hoe @right-shoe-jpg @makemealive @ukaic @nivky0-0 @animoozies @charmarsmith
#daisy’s red light district 🚨#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#hq smut#haikyuu headcanon#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu Tsukki#tsukki x reader#tsukki smut#haikyuu x gn!reader#hq x gn!reader#hq headcanon#hq headcanons#haikyuu hcs#haikyuu hc
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lovers’ dreams
Summary: “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.
Characters: India (Aditya), China, Iran/Persia (Roshan, genderfluid). Human names used. Indran, Churan, and Indchu for ships!
Notes: 100% distilled surrealism! This was supposed to be a writing exercise that ran away from me rip. There are many footnotes that explain Many things. Enjoy!
also on AO3! (there are bonus thoughts and explanations there for anyone who’s interested or slightly confused 😅. everything necessary for you to understand the story is here too but I ramble about my thoughts going into the piece on AO3 lol)
———
The willow’s drooping branches hide Yao’s face like a beaded curtain, a bride’s sheer red veil. The spring breeze snakes through the tree, and the sound of wedding suona—sorna rings through the silence. A flutter of phoenix wings brushes past their ear, a whisper on the wind. Roshan walks languidly until they are in front of Yao; it takes a minute—it takes a month. Yao’s face is sharp and his eyes glint, like the jade in his belt. But the kiss is soft when they take his lips in theirs, and it tastes of the rose’s tender petals. The clean sweetness of flowers is warm against Roshan’s face and the fragrance of tea drifts into their nostrils.
Yao pulls away, and Roshan opens their eyes to polished jade thorns sprouting up from the earth around them—crisp green, sharp-tipped; elegant, dangerous. So these are the fruits of our love. It is fitting. They lean to kiss Yao again, and this time, a laugh peals through the air when they part. It is not Roshan’s, and it isn’t Yao’s. But it is clear as spring water and tinkles like a bell, a joyous sound, and it makes Yao smile—a smile that is gentle, calculating; sweet, dangerous. A copper coin hides in the corner of his lips. “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.
When Roshan opens their eyes again, Yao is gone. They are standing in nothingness, a shell of a dream. A liminal plane. A wedding song echoes in the empty space, loud and cheerful, although there are no musicians to be seen playing the dohol, the sorna. Then sprung from the air, a mirror of fate, Aayeneh-ye Bakh, with its customary candelabras flanking it, and with their dots of golden light—miniature suns, sparkling stars. Its face shimmers, clear and gleaming: a pond on a full moon night—and in it, Yao stands, his reflection bright, splendid robes shimmering like gold scales and fine silk. Roshan reaches out a hand, and pulls him into a kiss.
“Welcome back, my dear.”
———
It is sunset, and a chill brushes past Yao’s shoulders and winds through his hair. The sky burns red, and fork tongued flames lick at the sun. A world bathed in fire, on the cusp of night. A lotus pond sits before him, and a figure is at its edge—Aditya, adorned in gold, the perfect figure of a prince. He, a dream of glittering palaces and beady emeralds, bright against the glow of the setting sun, sharp against the bloody sky. He holds a lotus blossom out, and Yao takes it. It is pure, tender in his calloused hands. A drop of blood drips from a petal. He lets it float into the water, and Aditya watches with him as the peach pink petals drop before their eyes—the lotus head balloons, then falls with the weight of seeds; it withers, a shell of its fruit. Divine beauty is short lived—seasons turn with the winds of change.
Aditya loops an arm around him, bare skin on bare skin, the warmth of the sun hanging around them like a curtain. Their lips meet. The kiss is long, and lingers even after Yao pulls away; it is slightly bitter, but how could it not be? Aditya’s eyes are like black tea, and Yao tastes acrid lily bulbs. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the aftermath of a blaze. Autumn leaves fall from ginkgo trees, golden yellow, bright with memories of the past. Aditya closes his eyes, and Yao watches him sink into a dream.
The scene shifts before his eyes. The lotus pond morphs into a giant chessboard, and they are on opposite sides. Aditya plays white. Cream colored pawns meet chocolate brown knights, and they watch as kings rise and fall, as steady as the spinning of the world. Chariots race and elephants trumpet; the cavalry fight with long swords and bows, and the peasants use polearms, raised fists. Yao meets Aditya’s eyes, warm but gleaming with an ambition that has never gone away. He nods to his neighbor to the west, to his rival, lover, partner, equal. Aditya smiles.
“So we meet again.”
———
It is afternoon, and the sun is warm on his face. Roshan sits on a bench in the courtyard, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a pomegranate in the other. Aditya nestles into their side, and they give him a feather light cheek kiss, gift him a wisp of air. They hold out the pomegranate, offers it, and Aditya takes a bite. Roshan takes the other half. They watch as the fruit regrows, seeds become jewels, glittering rubies in folds of red fabric. Roshan holds one up to the light with a critical eye. They spread tawny wings, amber eagle eyes alight with the pride of the past present future. A lion and the sun. The wings disappear—a trick of the light, reality fallen away. Then they hold up the cup of coffee.
“For you.” Aditya smiles, and offers a cup of black tea in return.
We have shared many things, and fought over equally many. How will it be in the future? He takes a sip, and falls through the cup.
A cemetery of swords surrounds them, a memory of things gone by. Afternoon sunlight filters through the trees, winds into Roshan’s hair. Idly peaceful. Flowers sprout through the earth; wither; climb up the rusted metal once again. A vine of roses twists around the hilt of a ceremonial spear, supple and full against cool, glinting steel. The leaves flicker, green yellow dead green again. Its blossom is still fresh red, like passion, like their love, pooling around them like a million memories, a still night in the river of time. Aditya looks at Roshan, different yet the same, a reflection of what they once were. Familiar, always, despite the changing tides and shifting dreams.
———
Notes
this part might actually be longer than the fic itself rip 😔 reminder that there’s extra rambling on ao3 lol
Suona/sorna: suona (唢呐) is a traditional wind instrument often played at wedding and funeral processions in northern China! (also used in Southeast China + Taiwan) It’s very loud and has a super brassy sound, but personally I think it sounds alright! The instrument came from Central Asia and is also used at weddings in Iran (where it’s spelled sorna/sarna), where it’s played with a dohol, a large cylindrical drum.
Phoenixes: wedding imagery in China, where a dragon symbolizes the groom and the phoenix the bride. There’s also an analogue to the phoenix in Persian mythology, a simurgh, which is a benevolent creature that is said to purify the land, roosts in the Tree of Knowledge, and apparently has seen the world be destroyed 3 times. Can symbolize healing, divinity, wisdom, and life. (the simurgh symbolism doesn't have much relevance to the fic but I thought it was incredibly interesting to read about lol)
Spring dream: very loosely referencing the Chinese phrase 一场春梦 (yi chang chun meng), which literally translates to an episode of a spring dream. It means the feeling that past predictions or events were actually totally wrong and fruitless, like you expected something (probably really good), but then woke up to reality not being up to your expectations? I can’t translate 😔
Mirror of Fate: In traditional Iranian weddings, a large, elaborate table with flowers and food and different spices is set up (sofreh aghd). A mirror of fate and 2 candelabras are also placed in the center of the table. The mirror represents how fate brought the bride and groom together, and the candelabras represent light and fire. The mirror is there so that when the groom looks into it, the first thing he should see is his betrothed's reflection.
Lotus blossoms: in China and India and many other parts of Asia, lotuses represent purity (they grow from dark mud but the flowers are pure white/pink), the divine, elegance, spiritual promise, the good part of humanity. so, a lotus with a drop of blood in Yao’s hands would be interesting.
Lily bulbs: this is purely self projection but lily bulbs (baihe) are used in Chinese medicine and I despise them. They're not super bitter but they taste starchy, bland, and off. Also lilies and lotuses are pretty similar and I thought that would be interesting :>
Chess: idk if I need a note for this but chess originated as an Indian game called Chaturanga and spread over to China and Iran, among many other places in Asia.
Tea and Coffee: nothing really special about this besides that Iranians Really Like tea. Decided to make India drink coffee instead for contrast; realistically he’d also be drinking tea lol
Eagle eyes: the Iranian/Persian symbol of the Faravahar, from Zoroastrianism has wings that are supposed to be eagle wings (I think? correct me if it’s just unspecified). You’ve probably seen it; it depicts a man with spread wings, half kneeling in a side view. Nowadays it’s also a symbol of Iranian culture, history, and national pride, besides being representative of Zoroastrianism.
Rose: national flower of Iran, and obv I don’t need to explain the other rose connotations. Also I’ve fully adopted the hc that Roshan and all their stuff smells like roses so that’s there too.
Lion and the sun: getting lazy with the explanations, but the short version is that it was a very important Iranian national symbol for many reasons, moreso tied to the state than culture (imo); it was also on the national flag up till the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although I’m still debating how much Roshan is associated with the state, I also think sun and lion imagery fits them (glory, golden days, pride and courage). It’s super interesting, go search it up if you wanna read more!
This whole fic was somewhat inspired by this one, and the indchu bit was also somewhat inspired by this fanart.
If you made it down here, you have all my gratitude. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thanks for reading <3
#fic musings#the three sections *can* represent specific historical time periods; even if it's very vague; however my original intention was to just have#them kiss in a surrealist painting's landscape; so you can really read it however you want. there are more thoughts on ao3 tho! :>#aph india#aph china#aph persia#musings#aph iran#hws india#hws china#hws persia#hws iran#indran#indchu#churan#hetalia fanfiction#hetalia#aph#hws#hetalia fanfic#hetalia fic#aph china fic#aph india fic#indran fic#indchu fic#churan fic
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