#damn near shit himself in terror | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jakethesequel · 1 year

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Welcome back to Tumblr's Poorest Wettest Saddest Littlest Meow Meow Competition! Before we announce the final verdict, let's see how our "lovely" contestants are doing backstage!

VRISKA SERKET, hailing from welcoming Homestuck, is in the blue corner! She's a TROLL, a TELEPATH, and a THIEF. She has also attained GODHOOD, and I'm informed she did nothing wrong! Just off the heels of a dramatic loss in the recent Tumblrwoman Election, she deeply resents being trapped in this narrative device!

Her attire today is plain by Earth standards, but well put-together by ALTERNIAN ones. Nevertheless, she has been known to dress up on occasion, particularly in the colors of her ANCESTOR, the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang!

She is extraordinarily determined, and extremely manipulative. She will do anything she can to make herself into the hero her story needs, consequences be damned. Her actions have made her the source of eternal, vitriolic discourse. Some believe her entirely justified, some believe her a heartless villain, and others believe everything in between; every one steadfast and passionate about their specific stance! Love her or hate her: VRISKA!!!!!!!!

HARRIER DU BOIS, also known as HARRY, sometimes referring to himself as RAPHAEL AMBROSIUS COSTEAU or THE REINCARNATION OF KRAS MAZOV, is here representing scenic Disco Elysium! He is a DETECTIVE, an ALCOHOLIC, a recent AMNESIAC, and a WASTE of ENERGY. Having just recently recovered from an attempt at drinking himself to death, we thought inviting him to compete might raise his spirits some! Unfortunately he does not seem to be totally aware of his surroundings, as he has already tried to touch himself twice on air!

His garish and mismatched clothes are STAINED with seemingly every substance a human body can produce. His face is locked in an EXPRESSION that can only induce disgust and discomfort in those who view it.

The few memories he can draw from his fractured mind paint him as violent, selfish, cruel, and pitiful. He has been trying to get over a breakup for six years, and has only partially succeeded through near-total retrograde amnesia. Worst of all, he's still somehow a decently successful cop. He has no friends and few allies on Revachol, with perhaps the sole exception of the impossibly patient and composed Lt. Kim Katsuragi. Even among his fans, you'd be hard pressed to find one who'd defend him, and ever harder pressed to find one willing to stand in the same room as him. Nevertheless, from the safe distance of fiction, let's hear it for HARRY!

In but a few moments, the doors in front of them will open, and they will be able to approach the trophy onto which we have engraved the name of the winner. 5… 4… 3… 2…

AND THE WINNER IS: VRISKAAAAAAAA SERKET!

—

Vriska: WH8T THE FUCK.

Vriska: WHAT THE F8CK!!!!!!!!

Vriska: I WON THIS????????

Vriska: You pieces of shit can't supp8rt me to win ag8inst some lanky rain8bow-drinking 8itch, 8ut 8eat one-in-fuck8ng 16777216 odds to win poorest, wettest, saddest, littlest g8ddamn meow8east?

Logic [Easy:Success]: She won. That means we lost.

Conceptualization [Challenging:Failure]: Another loss in a long, long line of losses.

Pain Threshold: You've gotten used to the feeling by now. Losing something barely even hurts anymore.

Endurance: You still carry each one with you. Well, except…

Volition: Not now. Not yet.

Authority [Medium:Success]: This doesn't have to stay a loss. Stare the girl down. Challenge her. Don't let this be taken from you.

Wait, what *is* she doing, anyway?

Perception: The grey girl seems to be shouting at someone, but there's no one else here.

Vriska: FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU

Inland Empire [Godly:Success]: The unseen audience, the string-pullers of fate. The sadistic writer terrorizing their creation. The storybook itself, the confines it sets. She has seen the death of the author, and needs more.

Empathy [Medium:Failure]: What's got her so upset?

Harry: Is there something wrong with you?

Vriska: I'm not taking that from a walking dumpster, asshole!

Suggestion: There's still time to fix this. Say something nice, quickly.

Harry: I just mean, you seem upset. I thought you'd be celebrating your win. It’s a big accomplishment, right?

Vriska: Are you kidding?

Drama: Are we, sire? Should we be, perhaps?

Vriska: You thought I’d 8e cele8r8ing this? A vote for the most pitia8le, pathetic person in paradox space? I’m not so desper8 to fill my pity quadrant that I need to resort to CROWDFUNDING! That’s like the lowest form of 8egging!

Electrochemistry: You are that desperate. Don’t think we're above begging for it, piggy.

Conceptualization [Easy:Success]: Oh. This was not a contest one wants to win. Maybe our loss was for the best.

Vriska: And I WON!!!!!!!! With this kind of competition, HOW did I get all the votes? All of them!

Reaction Speed [Trivial:Success]: "This kind of competition?" She’s talking about you! Say something!

Harry: It was a tight race. You fought with honor.

Vriska: IT SH8ULDN’T HAVE FUCKIN8 8EEN!

Vriska: Look at you! What the fuck kind of su8juggl8or suit are you wearing? Did someone 8leed on it?

Savoir Faire: No, no, this outfit is *cool*. You just have to give it a little *disco*, man.

Strike a pose.

Vriska: …

Vriska: You can’t seriously think any of that is appealing.

Vriska: Your clothes look like they were dragged out of 8 different gar8age 8ins.

Vriska: You couldn’t 8e more greasy and stained if you drowned in a pail of 8rooding slurry. From the st8 of your body, you actually might have!

Physical Instrument: I told you. You need to cultivate more mass.

Composure [Challenging:Failure]: Please, don’t start crying in front of a teenager.

You realize that you already have.

Vriska: Are you seriously crying right now? I might not 8e an expert on the human metamorphological process 8ut you definitely aren’t a pupa anymore. Shit, you look like you’re halfway dead already. Grow up, Pupa Pan!

Endurance: You need to stop this, now, before you break down further.

Harry: Fuck off, fucking spidery bitch! Leave me alone!

Vriska: Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen a grown man act this pathetic 8efore. How the hell did you not win this!?!?!?!? Do you even have a single thing going for you?

Esprit De Corps: You have a badge and a gun. You are a Detective Lieutenant-Yefreitor of the RCM. At least for now, you have that.

Harry: I’m a pretty good fucking cop.

Vriska: There are no good cops you dum8 8itch!

Authority: Make her stop.

Vriska: I’ve known you less than a minute and you already disgust me. I feel 8ad for the people that actually have to 8e near you.

Half Light: Do what you have to do and do it now.

Vriska: You deserved to win this. I don’t know how you can live like that. 8ack home you would have 8een culled sweeps ago.

Hand Eye Coordination [Legendary:Success]: You have never fired a shot so quickly or instinctually. You didn’t even know your gun was loaded. You pulled it out the way a cat scratches a hand, or a drunk pisses himself. You don’t remember when violence became second nature to you, but you didn’t forget how to do it either.

Harry: Oh, God.

Perception (Sight): Is that blood… blue?

Visual Calculus [Legendary:Success]: Light swirls and shimmers around the girl’s body, flashing a technicolor code you cannot decipher. Her body floats into the air, and her eyes flash open. All eight of them.

Inland Empire: No justice. No heroism. Just mindless violence.

Half Light: RUN.

Vriska: OW!

Vriska: Oh no you fucking don’t!!!!!!!!

(♏) Volition [Impossible:Failure]: You try to run, but your will is seemingly powerless to drive your body. I’m sorry.

Physical Instrument: Don’t look at me. I’m in great shape.

Interfacing: Connections seem fine. Don’t tell me we have to unplug him again…

♏Vriska♏: What the fuck.

Harry: Wh-wh-what are you doing to me?

Vriska: Shut up I’m trying to f8cus!

Inland Empire: Welcome, Thief of Light.

♏Vriska♏: What the hell is wrong with you?

Encyclopedia: Severe alcoholism. Retrograde amnesia. Partial facial paralysis. Dehydration. Heart palpi- (♏)

♏Vriska♏: 8e quiet, 8ook8rain! I’m trying to rifle through memories here and it’s a MESS!

Interfacing: We haven’t quite organized since our recent… restructuring. Try the thought cabinet.

Rhetoric: Don’t tell her that!

♏Vriska♏: Too late, sucker! Found it!

♏Vriska♏: …

♏Vriska♏: Jegus christ.

♏Vriska♏: In pu8lic? Why would you—

♏Vriska♏: Ugh!

♏Vriska♏: You said THAT?

♏Vriska♏: There was a8solutely no reason to do ANY of that, what the hell!

♏Vriska♏: You should honestly just kill yourself if you’re going to keep 8eing such a fuckup!

Reaction Speed: Yes!

Logic: Sound. You should kill yourself.

Empathy: It would make everyone feel better.

Endurance: Hasn’t this all gone on long enough?

Savoir Faire: It’s a hell of a statement.

Drama: The noble sacrifice, like Romeo, like Juliet!

Rhetoric: You should kill yourself NOW!

Authority: She has bested you. Listen to your better.

Half Light: Anything to get away from her.

Volition: …

♏Vriska♏: Can you creeps 8e normal for two damn seconds?

MORALE CRITICAL

The light fades from your eyes, and you fall to the floor.

Shivers: You are being called back where you belong....

—

Kim: Yes, Lieutenant. A fascinating dream. I’m sorry you did not win the competition.

Harry: What do you think it means, Kim? Do you think it could be some kind of message? Should I try to find that girl?

Kim: “That girl?”

Harry: Yeah! Vriska!

Kim: No, Lieutenant. I do not think you should go looking for Vriska Serket from Homestuck. Perhaps try looking for the killer in our murder case?

#disco elysium #homestuck #vriska serket #harry du bois #little meow meow

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

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At first, Eddie and Steve keep their relationship a secret. It isn't because they are embarrassed, nor do they even think their friends will be disapproving. It's simply because they happen to be friends with the most annoying, overbearing busy-bodies on planet earth.

It was bound to happen, all of them being so involved in each others' lives to the point that it's probably a serious co-dependent situation that someone (or Nancy) should study with science or some shit. But being bonded by unimaginable terrors from another dimension will do that.

Anyway, the pack of gremlins are always around, always demanding attention, always in the way of Eddie and Steve. So Eddie takes it upon himself to tease the dumbass twerps who remain oblivious to his relationship with their favourite babysitter.

Case in point: Dustin, Will and Lucas have been driven around all damn afternoon by Steve, mostly wasting time and wingeing about him not providing them with enough fun despite the fact they were now living in the near ghost town. All the while Eddie rides shotgun, watching his boyfriend become increasingly annoyed as the likelihood of a date night dwindles with each passing second.

“Our problems would be solved if Steve would just drive us into the city,” Dustin whines, staring at the back of the driver’s seat like he wants to burn a hole in it El-style.

“Absolutely not!” Steve argues as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway.

“Eddie?” Dustin asks, voice sickly sweet as he leans in between the front seats. “Can you drive us?”

“Gee, Henderson, love that I’m your last resort,” Eddie scoffs as he continues picking at his nails.

He slumps back in his seat, bracing himself for the same argument Dustin has had with Steve for the past week. That is unless he speeds this up a little and gently teases Steve while he's at it...

“Anyway,” he continues, drawing out his words as he dares a glance at Steve who merely rolls his eyes. “I’m busy.”

“Busy with what?” Lucas asks, more accusatory than curious.

“Nothing,” he responds, waiting on bated breath for more queries.

Steve slowly turns his head and he can’t help but give a teasing wink that leaves his boyfriend white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“It’s a Saturday. There’s no Hellfire because you are keeping us waiting on whatever torture you are concocting," Dustin insists, jostling Steve’s seat with every word and earning a series of grumbles from their chauffeur. “And you don’t have work.”

Eddie shrugs. “I have a date.”

At that, Dustin launches forward, an inch from Eddie’s face.

“You don’t date!” he shrieks.

“Do so,” Eddie says, shifting in his seat to square off with his young friend. “I have a life outside entertaining you dorks. Also, Henderson, that is the meanest thing you have ever said to me.”

He mimics sniffling and uses his index finger to simulate a tear running down his cheek as he pouts.

“So, who’s your girlfriend?” Dustin demands, his eyebrows disappearing up under his cap.

“Yes, do tell,” Steve adds, narrowing his eyes at him as he turns off the ignition, challenging.

Will remains silent in the back seat, despite Lucas opening the rear passenger door at the sight of Mike standing at his front stoop, waiting.

“Oh, you know…” Eddie begins, gesturing with his hand as he searches for some generic details. “Nice… hates her parents, which gives me ample opportunity to do my ‘bad boy boyfriend’-schitck… Very pretty… Great hair! Like, the best... Has a great rack.”

He nods at that last one before twirling a lock of his hair and crossing it over his face.

“You shouldn’t talk about girls like that,” Dustin shoots back, ever the goody-goody.

His words almost conceal a huffed laugh from Steve that only Eddie seems to catch. Truthfully, he can’t help but giggle too, mostly because despite being the brainiac of the century, Henderson of all people, had remained completely oblivious for months now. Also Steve's cheek has turned pink and that's worth him being smug about.

“Says the person who takes dating advice from King Steve,” Eddie counters.

He reaches over to run a finger up Steve's arm and lingers just enough. It makes Steve, already biting his lip from the nickname, squirm in his seat.

“And I have a girlfriend because of it!” Dustin retorts, adjusting his cap with a proud flourish and patting Steve on the shoulder.

It makes him jump, likely remembering that three of his kids are in the back of the car cramping his style.

“Alrighty,” he splutters, giving one of those rousing dad-slash-gym teacher claps that Eddie finds oddly authoritative in a hot way. “Out of the car, assholes.”

Dustin looks at Steve, incredulous as if it’s some great offence to be dejected from the car when they have reached their destination. Steve just raises his eyebrows in defiance at their young friend. He really does look cute when he's grumpy.

The boys huff and exit, taking the loss this time around. Steve watches as they walk towards the Wheeler’s front door and gesticulate wildly as they talk. Mike looks at the car with his signature stink-eye and takes a step forward. Steve promptly fires up the engine.

He intentionally revs the car, giggling as the kids jump at the sound.

“So, where are you taking me on a date?” he asks, rolling the car along and veering away from Mike before he can ask a damn thing.

“I thought we could watch movies at my place,” Eddie shrugs, offering his go-to plan.

“That isn’t a date!” Steve shrieks.

Eddie can’t help but grumble at the foiled idea. He gives Mike the finger as Steve peels out of the driveway, ranting about all the activities he steadfastly considers not a date.

#not a braincell in sight #does anyone ever write a whole thing just so they can just get ONE SENTENCE out of their brain???#that’s me with Eddie saying Steve has a great rack lmao #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #lilys ficlets

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stormsthatrage · 10 months

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The Hair Thing

At some point, the hair stops being about what was stolen from Xanxus and starts being about what was stolen from Tsunayoshi.

Of course, in the beginning, it's like this: Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

It’s simple. Xanxus was first in line for the throne after his older brothers died — and damn whatever Timoteo says, those three were his brothers. Even considering the fact that Xanxus wasn't a blood son after all, the fact remains that for the majority of his life, Xanxus was a Vongola heir. He was claimed as one, he was raised as one, he was loved as one. (And again, fuck what Timoteo says. If Enrico had still been alive, Timoteo would have been dead for the mere suggestion that Xanxus wasn't family as well as Family). And as such, he should have been on the throne far before any other candidate could ever have been brought in.

Also? Xanxus had the skills to be just about a damn perfect Don Vongola. He knew how Vongola worked. After all the time spent learning at his brothers' knees, he knew everything that the Capo dei capi could possibly need to know, and had a bunch of practice at it to boot. He was familiar with the duties of the head and the duties of the underbosses and the duties of the lowest ranks on the street. He knew how to keep his people safe. He knew how to enter a hostile negotiation and come out on top. He was great at strategy, both on and off the battlefield, and, oh yeah — speaking of the battlefield, Xanxus was really, really fucking strong. And so on. Squalo could have spent a week listing all the reasons Xanxus would have made a perfect Tenth.

So yeah. Squalo was fucking pissed when Timoteo revealed his lies, revealed his betrayal, and revealed that Xanxus had never actually been in line for the throne at all.

And Squalo's anger damn near turned him insane when Timoteo put his fucking Sky in ice.

So yeah. The hair thing. It begins because of what was stolen from Xanxus. As permanent as the fury embedded in his bones (as permanent as the rage still twisting in the back of his mind, a quiet, infernal madness that doesn't heal even when they finally break his Sky out of a fucking ice-seal) is his determination to never cut it, not until what was stolen is restored.

His determination grows even stronger when he meets Timoteo's choice heir for the first time. Tsunayoshi is weak. Tsunayoshi is a coward. Tsunayoshi is slow, and inexperienced, and absolutely not qualified for the throne.

The only thing Tsunayoshi has going for him as a candidate is his blood, his freakish primo-like genes, but ancestry has no impact on capability, and Squalo has been by Xanxus's side for too long to be okay with the thought of Tsunayoshi leading the Vongola into the ground from incompetence and cowardice.

Squalo's initial impression of Tsunayoshi, of course, does not withstand prolonged contact with him. It turns out that underneath the weakling appearance is, in fact, a perfect Capo dei Capi — different from the type Xanxus would have been, but no less ideal for it. Tsunayoshi is strong, fierce, determined, protective, smart, skilled, and — as it turns out, most importantly — kind.

Tsunayoshi is unbelievably kind. Impossibly kind. So kind Squalo finds himself searching for proof that it's a mask, because it has to be, because no one could be that genuinely good — but no matter how hard he searches, he only finds more evidence that somehow it's not a mask, it's real. And Squalo can only watch in awe and terror as Tsunayoshi's compassion spreads out like a fucking fungus, infecting others and the world and the fabric of the underworld itself, until Squalo has no choice but to believe that Tsunayoshi is going to save everyone, both Vongola and outsiders alike, from all the blood and suffering they were once destined to stain themselves with.

Squalo gets a front-row seat to Tsunayoshi's... Tsunayoshi-ness, as shit goes down in the wildest year of his life. There's the undoing of a ten-year-apocalypse, the undoing of an ancient curse, the making of what feels like a thousand different treaties, hell, fucking earth flames. At some point, Squalo stops keeping track, because so many absurd things have happened. And after it all, Tsunayoshi turns 15, and the kid and his guardians finally come to Italy.

For some reason, as soon as they step foot on home soil at the airport, they're ditching their Iron-Fort appointed chaperones to infest the Varia Castle. The kid and his equally impossible guardians make themselves comfortable, and as another year passes, every single one of the brats manages to endear themselves to the Varia Commanders — not that any of them would say it, of course.

(Years later, Squalo will remember his initial amusement at their sudden appearance at the Castle, and will realize that instead, he should have been furious. Why, why, after everything, didn't he think to wonder why they didn't want to stay at the Iron Fort? Sure, Tsunayoshi was Timoteo's chosen heir, but that didn't guarantee safety in the bastard's presence. After all, Xanxus had once been Timoteo's chosen son.)

The year ends, and the time comes. Tsunayoshi takes the throne.

Squalo doesn't cut his hair. He doesn't cut his hair, and for a moment, for a brief period of wonderful relief, the abstinence is not performed out of fury. The rage, the hurt, the insanity clawing at the back of his mind — it's dimmed, as dormant as it could ever be, after everything. Xanxus is happy, and frankly, after the ice, more comfortable heading the Varia than the main family anyway. Tsunayoshi is a better Vongola X than anyone could have dreamed. Vongola is stronger than it has ever been, his Sky is happy, and Tsunayoshi is leading the underworld into an impossibly bright future.

So Squalo does not cut his hair, because he took an oath not to and he is a man of his word. But he can imagine a world in which he did not take the oath, a world in which the hair was not a vow, and was instead a mere visual expression of his fury and resolve. It is a world where, after the ceremony in which the kid donned the title of Vongola X and Xanxus called the kid "little brother" in front of half of Italy, Squalo went home and pulled out a knife and finally got rid of the damned ponytail.

That period of blissful relief lasts right up until seven months later, when Squalo finds himself exhausted and a little bit tipsy and no longer up for celebrating the destruction of the human-trafficking ring the Alliance had just broken open.

He stumbles up a secluded staircase in the Iron Fort, and down a quiet hallway, intent on locating a room in which he can fucking take a nap. He spies a door that looks promisingly abandoned, tricks the lock open, and enters the room to find Tsunayoshi curled up against the far corner, spine pressed tightly against the wall, head tucked between his knees.

Even from the doorway, Squalo can hear how rapidly the kid is gasping for breath, can tell how painful it is.

For a moment, Squalo thinks someone has had the audacity, the stupidity, to dare and poison his Sky's little brother.

And then he hears the strangled sob, and puzzle pieces that he didn't even know he had come slamming together with the force of a fucking asteroid impact.

He's across the room in a heartbeat, pulling on his rain flames to calm the kid down. As he tries to take Tsunayoshi's hands, the kid flinches back. Holds his hands away from Squalo, like there's something coating them and he doesn't want to get Squalo dirty.

All of a sudden, Squalo thinks of his initial impression of Tsunayoshi. Not suited for the underworld, and especially not suited for leading the Vongola. Best left as a civilian, far away from Italy.

He bites back a hysterical laugh as he realizes that he had been right all along.

Tsunayoshi. Sweet, compassionate Tsunayoshi. Too stupidly soft to not get maimed by all the suffering he sees, by all the people he can't save, by all the people he has to fight because they are too far gone to save. Too ridiculously loving to not loathe himself every time he sends family onto the battlefield.

Too strong to let any of that stop him. Too kind to turn his back on those who are defenseless, who need his help.

Squalo gives up on cradling Tsunayoshi's hands. He sits down next to the kid, legs splayed out in front of him, and then hauls the kid (still just a kid, god, they are all so young) into his lap, back to chest. He wraps his arms around Tsunayoshi’s ribcage, as tight as he can without causing pain, tucking his chin over the kid’s head, and pours rain flames into his shaking frame.

The hyperventilating stops. The agony and self-hatred, so strong that Tsunayoshi's flames are radiating it into the air, do not.

His Sky's kid brother sobs into his neck, shakes apart in his arms, and all Squalo can feel is, in the back of his head, that fucking rage flaring back to life from dormancy.

_____________

In the end, it's like this. Squalo knows the Vongola Ring should have been Xanxus's.

Tsunayoshi gets it anyway.

And so Squalo never cuts his hair.

______________________________________________________

Edited 7/14/2023. Crossposted to AO3.

(AN from 7/13/2023): Authorial Disclaimer: Normally I don't post fic hot off the press but in my defense I didn't know this was going to be a fic. I just wanted to post an idea! It was going to be like. 1 paragraph! Max! I swear! ...So I'm posting my definitely-short-idea, because I planned on posting today, and I'll edit and revise and add it to ao3 later. Because that is a thing I am going to need to do now. Apparently. Later, after bedtime. Dang, but these plot bunnies are out of control...

#khr #superbi squalo #squalo #sawada tsunayoshi #xanxus #this. this was supposed to be a short idea. but it's a fic? help?#squalo's hair #katekyou hitman reborn

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starsreminisce · 29 days

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The bonus chapters do provide context and throwbacks to the main books, and it's frustrating to think they wouldn't impact the overall story. After all, the ACOMAF bonus chapter cemented Nessian's relationship and added depth to their story. SJM excels at weaving these elements seamlessly. Therefore, it feels like a step backward to argue that Elain will face a choice when the bonus chapter clearly shows Azriel's feelings for her and his developing friendship with Gwyn.

Elain demonstrably showed interest in Azriel, but he rejected her. Rhys reminded Azriel that Elain and Lucien still have a bond, and Lucien has the right to defend it. Elain returned his necklace, which Azriel then gave to Gwyn.

Both ACOSF bonus chapters establish context. Azriel's chapter clarifies his sullen behavior at the solstice, and Gwyn starts calling him "Shadowsinger" after he reveals the title. Feyre's chapter explains their choice of the name Nyx for their son.

Therefore, it's confusing why SJM would regress Elain and Azriel's interactions. The bonus chapter clearly showed Azriel hurting Elain to the point of returning his gift. Additionally, it focused on his growing investment in Gwyn. Elain's book likely won't start with a love triangle involving Lucien and Azriel. The bonus chapter suggests Elain has already made her choice.

Ideally, Elain's book will explore her reasons for accepting Azriel's rejection and delve into her feelings for her true mate. Most importantly, we should see Elain stand up for herself against Azriel. This is the third time he's acted without considering her, similar to how Tomas motivated Nesta to overcome her fear.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his— Pain exploded between his legs, knocking the breath from his chest as that gods- damned knee of hers indeed found its mark. Cassian staggered back, swearing viciously. She snorted, looking down at him as he fell on his ass into an armchair, clutching his stomach, trying to reorder his brain— “You’re all the same,” she said, imperious as the night and cold as the dawn. “Perhaps being an immortal makes you predictable.”

In ACOMAF:

I’d had one break from Cassian’s brutal training—just one morning, when he’d flown to the human realm to see if my sisters had heard from the queens and deliver another letter from Rhys to be sent to them. I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days. I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.

In ACOSAF:

He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered. Even from the start. Even after she’d kneed him in the balls that one afternoon at her father’s house.

ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:

No, she had not been with any male, Fae or human. Tomas had wanted to, and she . . . some part of her had known no future lay with him. Knew about his hateful father, and that he did nothing to prevent the man from beating his mother. She had barely let Tomas kiss her, and that day when she had ended it, he’d . . . She swallowed, shutting out the memory of what he’d said and done. The sound of her tearing dress. No—it hadn’t gone that far, but . . . The blind terror in those moments he’d tried, before she’d screamed and clawed her way free. And never told anyone. Something must have shown on her face, in her scent. Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something . . . Rage. That’s what stilled Cassian’s face. Pure, burning rage.

In ACOSF:

Three days afterward, Nesta broke it off with Tomas. Enraged, he’d launched himself at her, pinning her against the enormous woodpile stacked along the barn wall. Spiteful whore, he’d growled. You think you’re better than me? Acting like a queen when you haven’t got shit. She’d never forget the sound of her dress tearing, the greed in his eyes as his hands pawed at her skirts, trying to raise them as he fumbled with the buckle on his belt.

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #antie/riel #antielriel #gwynriel

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kozidraws · 2 years

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Kirishima likes to make paper cranes and "flies" (flicks) them over to Bakugo when he gets bored. Bakugo naturally sets them aflame. After a while Kirishima gets the brilliant idea to write compliments to Bakugo on the crane paper, knowing Bakugo will just blow it up.

It was a terrible battle always sitting near Bakugo and resisting the urge to blurt out his every thought about the blond.

But doing it this way, Kirishima gets to pour out his feelings on paper, because his love for Bakugo is too big for even his body to contain.

He tests the waters first, just writing 'You're cute when you glare' then with practiced ease, folds it into a crane and flicks it at Bakugo.

And lo and behold, Bakugo doesn't even look up from his homework, just snatches the paper in mid-air and lights it up with a small explosion.

Kirishima grins to himself.

Perfect.

So it becomes a routine at their study sessions. Bakugo makes him study, Kirishima mind wanders as he stares at the blond, then has to write his feelings down.

Fold paper, make crane, throw at Bakugo, repeat.

Bakugo doesn't even snap at him for the increased amount of paper birds, just goes through the motions of capture and destroy.

Until one day.

Kirishima's mind just would not stop thinking about how much he loves Bakugo, so onto the paper it went. It was the fastest his pen moved this study session, that's for sure. He surprised himself that within five minutes he has a whole page written.

He had to stop there, no way was he gonna write on the other side. Too risky.

He folds the paper into a crane, turns and throws the crane-

Bakugo is looking right at him.

'Oh shit.'

The crane flies neatly into Bakugo's hand.

But it doesn't explode.

'Play it cool. Do not break out into nervous sweat, that will make him suspicious.' But now he's also been too quiet, damn it.

Bakugo looks down at the crane, still intact, then back at Kirishima.

"Now, I'm going to give you a chance to tell me what you just wrote."

There is no way in hell he was going to confess. Nope, nope, nope.

Wracking his brain the first excuse to pop up was "Uhh, new gym routine?"

Bakugo raises his eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

"Yup! Watched a fitness video so wrote down the routine to try it out."

"Which you then threw at me?"

Kirishima winces, "...yes?"

"Fine," Bakugo leans back on his chair, he almost looks relaxed, but his eyes harden in challenge. "Then as your gym buddy I better make sure it's up to my standards then."

Bakugo quickly starts to unwrap the crane.

Kirishima stares in frozen terror.

Bakugo clears his throat, lifting up the paper in front of him, a smirk gracing his features as he starts to read aloud.

"Dear Bakugo-"

Kirishima lunges.

They both grunt as they tumbled to the ground, Kirishima thought he'd have an advantage since he landed on top of the blond but Bakugo instantly got defensive.

"Fucking knew you were lying!" Bakugo shouts as he blocks Kirishima's hands.

"Okay! You got me! Just give it back!" Kirishima pleads, getting blocked again by an elbow.

"Y'know if you have an issue with me, you could say it to my face instead of a letter!" Bakugo snarls.

"It's not that either!" Kirishima shouts back. He tries to get under Bakugo's arm.

Wrong move.

Within seconds Bakugo had managed to flip him using a headlock. He's back is on top on Bakugo's chest as he stares at the ceiling in shock. Kirishima tries to pry the arm that locks around his neck but it's no use.

"Now let's see what you had to say to me."

Kirishima closes his eyes, sighing in defeat as he stops trying to escape. Can't delay the inevitable now. Now his friendship is going to go up in flames because he couldn't keep his feelings to himself.

The crinkling of paper feels like a loaded gun.

"Dear Bakugo, once again I can't help myself, and I blame you, this is all your fault," Bakugo pauses, a sour tone in his voice before he continues.

Kirishima mentally pleads with the blond not to read the whole thing aloud, he's going to die of embarrassment.

"How can you just sit there doing your homework yet I can't take my eyes off you, you're so handsome it hurts."

"It's the same when we fight, or when you cook our meals, you're so graceful and skilled and I just lo-" Bakugo stops reading aloud but Kirishima knows he's still reading it. His fate is sealed.

Oh how he wish he had a teleporting quirk now.

Kirishima can feel his eyes start to sting, he doesn't want to be here when Bakugo finishes reading, afraid of the consequences. With renewed desperation he tries to move again, grabbing onto the arm still locked around his neck.

Instead, Bakugo's arm tightens.

Kirishima keeps tugging, squirming while he can feel a few tears start to slip.

"Bakugo, please, just let me go." He chokes out cursing his voice for sounding so broken.

Bakugo must have finished reading it because he hears the paper flutter to the ground.

In the next moment Kirishima feels Bakugo's other arm wrapping around his waist as the blond sits them both up, Kirishima now sitting in between Bakugo's legs but he refuses to turn to face him.

Kirishima sniffles, wanting to wipe his tears but Bakugo has locked his arms in a tight embrace. He can feel the warmth radiating off Bakugo as the blond leans even closer against Kirishima's back, hooking his chin over Kirishima's left shoulder and sighs.

"Kirishima,"

Here it comes.

"I'm going to move you but don't try to run off." Bakugo warns, he waits for a small feeble nod before loosening his hold, arms hooking Kirishima's legs so he's now sitting in Bakugo's lap, his right side flush against Bakugo's chest.

"As I said before," Bakugo starts, raising his hand to cup the side of Kirishima's face, wiping away a few stray tears, "If you have something to say to me," the blond leans forward to touch their foreheads together, "say it to my face."

Kirishima barely feels like he can function being so close, he stutters out a breath, another tear leaks out but Bakugo is quick to remove it.

"I, I..." Kirishima stalls, Bakugo nuzzles their noses softly together and it's enough encouragement to whisper out "I love you."

Bakugo tightens his arms around Kirishima, pecks the redhead briefly on the nose before he presses their lips together.

Kirishima is so shocked he doesn't move at first, frozen because he couldn't believe this was happening.

That didn't bother the blond, he was a good tutor after all. He lifted Kirishima's arms up to wrap around his neck and kissed him again.

"I love you too Kirishima."

That was all Kirishima needed to hear.

He surged forward, renewed courage to kiss Bakugo back.

This time when they landed on the floor Bakugo let out an amused huff, bringing Kirishima closer so the redhead could pepper his face with kisses.

Bakugo seemed to enjoy Kirishima's enthusiasm, couldn't stop grinning and chuckling as Kirishima kept going.

Kirishima was addicted, he wants to hear his laugh and see his smile for the rest of his life.

"I love you so much!"

Bakugo intercepts him, sneaking another kiss before getting up.

"Let's go, I need to cook your favorite meal to celebrate." Bakugo says, holding out his hand which Kirishima gladly accepts. Bakugo doesn't let go of his hand and walks them out of his room to the kitchen.

"Also, I'm sorry for blowing up the other notes, I didn't know."

"That's okay!" Kirishima squeezes his hand in reassurance.

"I could always write you notes to make up for it." Bakugo offers.

Kirishima grins.

"Nah, just say it to my face."

❤🧡-END!-🧡❤

#kiribaku #bakugou #kirishima #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #kozi writes #dorks in love

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piratefishmama · 2 months

Text

Everything wrong with the liveaction Avatar and WHY.

in my own personal opinion that nobody need agree with me on.

Zuko fought back in the Agni Kai against his father.

Okay so, so far, there's been a lot of people trying to explain why this was wrong with the very limited space on twitter, i'm going to do it here, on tumblr, where i have unlimited space, whee. In the original show, Zuko, with pure terror in his heart, got down on his knees, begged, and pleaded for forgiveness that his father would not give, before being burned and banished for his weakness and disrespect. This gave the audience the impression that Ozai was fucking terrifying. His power was beyond comprehension, and he was so scary that his own son, his own progeny, would still be TOO AFRAID of him, to even dare cross him. Even at the cost of his honour. Ozai wouldn't even grant mercy to his own terrified son, scarring his face, a part of Zuko that he could never hide, so everyone would forever see the proof of Zuko's dishonour and shame. Ozai was awful. In every single way, but he was also terrifying. The Live Action version had Zuko fighting back. Not only did it have him fighting back, it also had him obtain an actual chance to win that fight. Now, an Agni Kai, is a fight between firebenders where the first person to be burned, loses. Undoubtedly, Ozai had many oppportunities to burn his son from the get go, but for a brief moment, Zuko has the upper hand, right here

It's right here, that Zuko could have won an Agni Kai against his father, the firelord, and big bad of the entire series, right out of the gate, before he'd even hit adulthood. Pathetic. Dont get me wrong, it's a cool scene, but it greatly diminishes how scary Ozai is supposed to be. Zuko has the strength to fight back, he's scared, but he's not paralyzed with fear, he's able to fight back, and damn near almost WIN. Shit's pathetic. Ozai almost got his shit rocked by a teenager. Who isnt even the avatar. Cartoon Ozai was a terrifying monster who had the actual avatar so scared he was having recurring nightmares about rocking up to the big fight without pants, this dude's just a terrible father with superpowers.

The Face Stealer Koh

In the original cartoon, Koh was introduced as a spirit old enough to know who and what the real world forms of the ocean and moon spirit were. A creepy stealer of faces who hunted by causing reactions in people. Stealing their faces wouldnt kill them, they just. Wouldnt have a face. In the live action, he appears in the 'Hei Bai' episode and hunts in the fog of lost souls, y'know, the place in Korra where lost souls get stuck in their worst memories? Then he cocoons them, and eats their faces. Like, full on eats them. And for some reason he was the one who grabbed the lost villagers in the Hei Bai episode, not Hei Bai. It's weird. Pretty sure one of them maybe got eaten, idk. Unclear. Gross and unclear.

Hei Bai plothole

Not so much a plothole as just... something missing. Hei Bai is seen in his 'distressed spirit' form, he's seen, his pain and distress is acknowledged multiple times, and the reason why he's distressed is seen, but he's never shown to be soothed. Aang buries an acorn in the ground near his damaged statue, but it never shows Hei Bai being soothed. In the cartoon he had to be handed the acorn to see it, to understand the implication and be calmed, if just burying an acorn in the ground would have worked, he'd have never been upset, because he'd have been able to see it himself in the ruins of the forest with there being acorns all over the place.

Wan Shi Tong cameo in Hei bai's foggy spirit forest

Dude why tf are you out of your library? Your foxes venture out into the world to find you things, get back to your library, what the hell r u doin out there?

WE DIDNT NEED TO SEE THE AIR NOMAD GENOCIDE

WE DIDN'T NEED TO SEE THE AIR NOMAD GENOCIDE

Gyatso's underwhelming skeletal remains.

In the cartoon they found him surrounded by dead firebender soldiers, having solo'd a ton of them by himself, an old man, a monk, all on his own. Giving the impression that either he fought them off until he fell, or he removed out the air in the room suffocating them all and himself. Both entirely badass ways to go. In the live action the firelord walks through his frankly impressive wall of airbending in a cool 'oo i'm on fire' trick, and burns him alive in front of a bunch of air nation children. The fucking dishonour on your whole goddamn family whoever decided upon that scene, jesus christ.

Azula wasn't scary

She was just... meh.

The Only Good Thing About the Avatar Live Action series.

Big spirit fish go brr.

#There's absolutely other things #but these things annoyed me the most #also the Koh Hei Bai and Wan Shi Tong thing all happened in the same episode lmao #shit was wild

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hajimeshoe · 2 years

Note

Here's the request I promised!

Octavinelle with a bottle nose dolphin s/o.

S/o tends to say some really fucked up shit, and does really fucked up shit at times.

They can sing really well, and they sing at the Mostro-Lounge.

Enjoys toying with people and animals because dolphins are ass holes like that!

A bully to any and all sharks in Octavinelle.

They have their moments of purity and kindness, but overall they're a devil disguised as an angel.

Let's just say, damn near everyone is afraid of s/o

This is going to be insane, and Floyd is loving every damn minute of it

Octavinelle with A Bottlenose Dolphin S/O

Azul

Azul, Azul, Azul

Canonically an insecure boyo, he was unsure if you even liked him at first

However, he was absolutely enraptured with your voice. The second he heard it, he knew he needed you to work at the Mostro Lounge - after all, you could bring in so many customers!

(He just wasn't prepared for how many customers you'd drive away either)

It took nearly a year of pining for you two to finally end up together

Between your mixed signals - being nice to him one minute and bullying the fuck out of him the next - and his doubts, nobody was even sure either of you would confess.

Unsurprisingly, you were the one who eventually just kissed him one day

You two are absolute terrors together. He makes deals with poor, unfortunate students and you help the twins make sure those students have no way of fulfilling their end of the bargain

But you and Floyd have only hospitalized a few!

One of those cliche "You're mean to everyone but him" couples

Of course, fights between the two of you have the entire student body hiding for their lives

He'll use his arsenal of spells from contracts and you're just...creative

Lighting his vault on fire when he's out, putting TnT in the oven - no, I will not specify how you got it - all the way to blackmailing the twins to get you a picture of him when he was younger so you could print out more and glue them into every book in the school.

Jade

Jade finds you amusing

You'll be the definition of angelic whenever the teachers are looking, but the second they turn their backs you're pushing students off of their brooms, adding gunpowder to a potion, or charming a students history textbook to shoot glitter into their eyes when they try to open it.

Some of your more dangerous activities have him catching the back of Floyd's shirt to keep him from helping

But this eel loves you nonetheless

...when you aren't making it so they have to get new security sharks in the Mostro lounge each week because you threatened to give them an impromptu C-Section in order to make new meals out of their guts

"Love, I don't care if they were being rude, you can't casually threaten people with homocide-"

"It's not a threat, Jade."

"Goo-"

"It's a promise. Floyd, come with me in case I need more muscle!"

Cue your boyfriend quickly trying to drag both of you to his room before you both get expelled for murder

Floyd

The most fun he's had in months!

Azul and Jade are cursing everything, the students are running for the hills, and the teachers are standing there with fire extinguishers!

You help him to get out of trouble when an authority figure is looking, and he helps you with any student you feel like messing with.

You two absolutely TERRORIZE Leona

Like, he doesn't even like Floyd, but he can't exactly avoid both of you easily

And you messed with his favourite napping spot! He woke up, strung up by his neck with vines in the Botanical Gardens.

"FLOYD! Y/N!"

"I wanted to see if beastmen have claws"

Turns out, they do! Leona was not killed by being hanged that day

You and Floyd will eat Takoyaki while looking directly at Azul

He made himself scarce fairly quickly - Floyd alone? He'd have nothing to worry about. Floyd with your influence? He would not be testing those waters

#twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader

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cakeboxie · 5 months

Text

Our own starlight

A SFW Modern AU Halsin x Tav/Reader ficlet

“What’s something small you miss? From living in the forest I mean.”

“Starlight. It was one of the first things that really threw me off about this… place. Night is unbearably dark, yet somehow unpleasantly bright at the same time.”

TWs: Family death, grief, spoilers abt Halsins backstory.

Reader is gn and undefined besides working in a greenhouse.

AN: waugh this is just kinda word vomit following me having a really good idea. It’s entirely unedited so if you see any errors no you don’t <3

Also I am fighting for my life trying to find a voice for halsin bear with me please.

Halsin remembers being a kid in the cabin his family lived in. His mother teaching him how to cook alongside his younger siblings.

He too remembers sitting outside with his father, the chill of fall nipping at his face while he was taught how to pick good sticks for firewood; along with the promise that next year he’d be old enough to help split up logs with his father.

He remembers a thick book shared between him and his eldest sister while she taught him Druidic magic, and the terror on his mothers face when he gave himself fuzzy little bear ears (and his sister laughing because couldn’t figure out how to get rid of them.)

He remembers being sick, just a little sick. A stuffy nose and a sore throat he caught from falling into the stream in late November when the frost set into snow.

He remembers burying them all that spring.

He didn’t want to, but he knew that disease clings to corpses long after the flesh chilled. He thanked Silvanus that the illness came in December and not one of the warm months that would’ve forced him to bury them immediately lest he meet the same fate.

He remembers the following winter being warmer than usual, but little else of the year.

Halsin knows now that he had gotten lucky, unbelievably so. The gentle winter allowed him to live despite being unwilling to split his own firewood, it allowed him one year to prepare himself before he was truly forced to acknowledge the finality of it all.

He remembers finding his balance the following year. Their garden took quite of bit of work to recover after being abandoned for a year. But he managed it, along with making himself some traps based on some diagrams in an old book and the odds and ends he remembered learning about how to make them more effective from his mother.

“So… why are you here?”

They look up at him, visibly confused.

“Not that I don’t like talking to you- but it seems like you were managing fine past the first year.”

“The expansion of the city drove the animals away. Then men in suits appeared at my door asking for documents I didn’t have. Proof of ownership and deeds to the land our cabin was on. They threatened to arrest me for squatting if I didn’t leave.”

He sips his tea, it was brewed far too hot. Leaving it bitter even with sugar, but it was something he could afford, which seemed few and far between lately.

“I only recently learned what squatting actually is. They’d looked at me like I was a fool for asking”

“That’s… Gods I’m sorry. I can’t even fathom how shit that must’ve felt, I’ve always lived in the city so…”

“It isn’t all awful; being in the city. Living is a much more manageable kind of tiring.”

He was lucky to be as strong as he is, he’d manage to land a job as an unskilled labourer. As much as he resented the title he knew it wasn’t a slight, he didn’t have any of the certifications or diplomas required to hold any other station at the greenhouse he worked in. Even if he knew more about many of the plants they grew from his own personal experience working with them.

One thing of many he’d yet to get used to. Your experience doesn’t matter in the city unless you have a piece of paper proving it.

“That’s fair I suppose… I would give damn near anything to be able to be self-sufficient like that… Alas I’m doomed to forever be a slave to capitalism.”

Halsin wants to tell them that they’re not.

He wants to say that if enough people stopped thinking that they don’t have the option to rebel the entire system would fall apart.

He bites his tongue, figuratively and literally. Wincing as the sharp taste of iron settles in his mouth.

Well, it’s not like his tea could’ve gotten much worse.

“What’s something small you miss? From living in the forest I mean.”

“Starlight. It was one of the first things that really threw me off about this place. Night is unbearably dark, yet somehow unpleasantly bright at the same time.”

They nod, and ponder their tea for a beat.

“Do you have any plans tonight?”

“How forward.”

They scoff, but it lacks venom.

“Just answer me you dork.”

“No I do not.”

Their smile widens considerably.

“You do now, assuming you don’t mind coming over to my apartment.”

He nods in agreement, and they beam.

Another thing that’s definitely not awful about living in the city is them. He had met them through the greenhouse they both worked at, and had kept contact after they had quit.

The afternoon passes by as it usually does during their little dates. They would talk about their job and their cats, he would reply in kind. His tea went cold long before he finished it, and he’d thank the barista as he handed their mugs across the counter.

The walk to their apartment was nice. He realized as they spoke about the bus they missed how much he missed not being alone.

It was a long walk, he silently thanked Silvanus.

Their apartment was almost identical to his on the outside. Grey building, black doors, painfully sterile.

The inside however, was not. Almost every flat surface was plastered with posters and prints, the shelves full of knickknacks and candles more so than actual books.

“Okay so, I don’t have a couch obviously because I have a studio apartment but my bed doesn’t have the best view of the thing I want to show you.”

They push some things haphazardly out of the center of the room, before pulling a blanket off their bed and laying it out.

“Gods this is so sketchy I’m so sorry- Lay on this and close your eyes.”

“It’s alright. I trust you.”

The blanket is soft, but thin. The linoleum below digging into his shoulders as he lays down. There’s a soft click and the lights turn off, they settle beside him after a moment.

“Okay. Open your eyes.”

It takes him a second to put together what he’s looking at.

Stars. Painted on the walls and ceiling between the posters and tapestries, glowing in the dark of their apartment.

“It’s obviously not as pretty as real stars but… I dunno I’ve never been far enough out of town to see many real ones so I made my own starlight.

“It’s beautiful.”

He doesn’t need to be able to see them to know they’re smiling.

Part of the @eveningatthrmoviesnetwork

Taglist: @yarnnerdally • @starrry-angel • @yuelqnn • @yeonpm • @beardedladyqueen

Wanna be added? Send me an ask off anon and lmk if you want to be on the sfw only list!

#cakewrites #bg3 halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x tav

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ghostismybbygorl · 1 year

Text

141 when they're angry and how they cry

Im feeling a little bit angsty tonight 😈

Warnings: self inflicted pain, ptsd, truama responce, crying, anger

Price

It takes alot to get him pissed the fuck off but when he does he blows the fuck up like full blown disappointed dad he will make you cry. This usually only happens if he had a rookie or someone close to him nearly gets killed or a mission goes SOUTH

Again it takes alot to get him pissed if he realizes he getting to that level of anger he'll excuse himself take some breaths smoke like 3 cigars to get his composure together and then he'll address the problem

He's usually just passive aggressive and says some really petty shit

Now he's a silent crier with the occasional sniffer. He's stroke his beard and rub his face with a groan. He hide his face and just silently sit there until he gets his composure. He aslo does breathing exercises to calm him down

Soap

When he's pissed of he'll get really quiet and shit himself off. He does the "im fine" and if you keep prodding at him he'll blow up in a yelling fit.

Hes a angry crier like full blow screaming crying punching things. Hes a whole hurricane when he's MAD

Now he will never lay a finger on anyone he loves if your in the middle of an argument and he starts forming tears he'll storm off and find something to punch. He keeps a punching bag around so that he doesn't have to hurt himself on anything. he wont punch the walls because he'd be the one fixing it.

He one time got so pissed he dissapeard and ghost found him curled up by a tree that had obviously taken a beating. his knuckles will be bleeding and bruised. He'll be a sobbing mess hyperventilating, hiccuping, coughing ghost would have to calm him down and try to get him leveled

Hes the screamer type crier he'll be holding something just wailing. If you ask him whats wrong he will just pull you in a hug and just let it loose.

Ghost

(Alright so in the comics he was in a abusive household where his dad would beat his mom and he would terrorize him with new foreign animals and he witnessed his dad murder a woman at a concert and he just told him to laugh it off. He was captured and tortured to near death being buried with his comrad so he has MAJOR PTSD from it so this kind of falls into the senario)

He tries HARD to not loose his composure in fear that he will be like his dad and loose his shit

Hes goes quiet and shuts himself off. Like price he'll excuse himself and get his composure together. He raises his voice and will warn you that you're pissing him off and to stop immediately. If you don't stop he'll tell you "that's enough!" And storm off

His whole aura will change and you can feel the anger radiate off of him. He's the type to go "its fine don't worry about it" if you ask before storming off to somewhere quiet

so theres this trauma response where if someone you know where to get hurt or something just makes you snap you start laughing i feel like ghost has that especially in the comics he has a ptsd attack and just starts laughing

When he has an attack he'l start with a chuckle and then it just mores into a sick laugh and itll just turn into him full blown sobbing and laughing at the same time

He's also a silent crier so if he's severly overstimulated he'l lie down and his eyes will start becoming waterfalls. No sniffles he just stares while his eyes soak the floor

Gaz

He RANTS when he's pissed the fuck off. He will call you out in your bullshit and roast the fuck outta you. he does the hand clap, waves his hands in the air everything. He's a bery level headed person but if you say something that pushes that button right be ready for a blow up

He doesnt get violent whats so ever unless the person provokes it. His dad (price lol) taught him to not start a fight but finish it and he damn well finish one.

He super sarcastic when he's irritated and is passive aggressive

"And thats why your mamas dead.... dead as hell"

When he cries he has tears streaming down his face and he does the quiet sobs that will turn into hiccups and him rubbing his eyes constantly

He doesnt cry that much (except for weddings hes a sucker for them) and he usually doesnt show anyone that he's crying (except for the weddings 😂)

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hapan-in-exile · 5 months

Text

Chapter 3 - Post #8: About damn time

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 4K (of 45K total in Volume 3)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

__________________________________________

VIII. “Listen, Mando,” Talsala scoffs, straightening up and drawing away from you. “I don’t know what you got going on with this girl…but is it really worth burning your bridges with Black Sun? You wanna be on Ingtar’s shit list all for some fucking pus—”

Crack!

The sound of Mando’s gauntlet hitting Talsala’s teeth when he backhands the Togruta across the face is like a thunderclap.

With his hand gripped around Talsala’s throat, he pulls the man’s face within an inch of the Beskar helmet and growls through his clenched jaw, “Come near her again, and I’ll break every bone in your body.”

Valine steps up to intervene as her partner struggles to twist out of Mando’s rigid hold. When Bril shuffles through the crowd to cut off her path, she sizes up the Twi’lek with an exasperated groan.

“Enough dick swinging,” she says, reaching into her shoulder holster to pull out a blaster. She fires a series of bolts—not at Mando or Bril—but at the lighting rigs overhead. They explode in a shower of sparks and sporadic pops.

Within seconds, partygoers begin surging past, screaming and pushing each other, trying to get away from the VIP section. Guards have their blasters out, and you can hear random shots being fired as people stampede for the exit.

You’re in danger of being trampled, which is a terrible way to go. Instincts kick in, and you leap with each step, letting the crush of bodies carry you onward to avoid getting dragged down to the floor.

“Sorry in advance for this.”

“Wha–”

Mando thrusts an arm between your legs, “H-h-hey!” and heaves you over his shoulders. He plants each stride against the streaming crowd, making his way back to the bar while carrying you above the press of tangled limbs. Atop his shoulders, you get a full view of the chaos unfolding, a rippling wave of panic as clubgoers are either caught up in the crush or climb the furniture to press themselves against the walls.

Advancing in the opposite direction, you can only guess where the Mandalorian is headed. With both hands around your waist, he heaves you onto the bartop before launching himself over. There’s an access door built into the floor that drops to a basement below.

“Come on,” he barks at a group of people huddled behind the bar. They look up at him in terror but soon realize he’s offering them an escape route.

Once they’ve cleared your path, he lowers you down, dangling from his powerful arms until you're a safe distance from the floor.

The basement is littered, floor to ceiling, with a maze of liquor boxes.

Fortunately, the other patrons were able to locate an exit door. It lay open, busted on its hinges. You peer out to see a long underground service tunnel punctuated by metal grates cut into one side that opened onto a busy concourse. The sound of loud voices and footsteps echo against the concrete along with the perpetually flashing lights of Daiyu City.

While you crouch behind the door frame, Mando marches ahead in pronounced silence, pausing long enough to ask, “He hurt you?” before abruptly walking off as soon as you assure him that you’re fine.

Not exactly fine. The Spice liquor made everything fuzzy and difficult to keep up. Plus, his legs are so damn long.

“Mando—”

“Did I hear you say you're familiar with the word inconspicuous?”

The bounty hunter’s voice is barbed with a sharp edge, and he doesn’t bother to curb his relentless pace or turn back to look at you.

“W-what—?” You stammer in confusion. “Wait, Mando. Can you slow down, please?”

Inconspicuous? What had you done that was so terrible apart from enjoy yourself at a nightclub along with the hundreds of other people packed into that warehouse?

“You told me to dance if I wanted…,” you protest, trying to tame your sweat soaked hair into a compact knot.

“Dance,” he snaps, still looking resolutely forward.

“What you actually said was, knock yourself out.”

“It wasn’t an invitation to go wild.”

“Wild?!” You choke on a huff of laughter. Mandalorians really are conservative. “Ok, first of all, there were naked people wearing paint dancing in cages suspended from the ceiling—so I didn’t cause some kind of scene. Secondly…I didn’t do it for the attention.”

You can hear the heavy exhalation from his nostrils while he silently shakes his head.

“The most beautiful creature in the galaxy asked me to dance with her. I’m not made of stone, Mando. Or Beskar, as the case may be.”

Hot damn, wasn’t there supposed to be an apology somewhere in there?

“I hope you know when they come looking for you again, she’s going sell whatever information you shared.” This time, he feels compelled to at least speak over his shoulder at you.

Erenada, is it that hard for him to refrain from treating you like a child? “For your information, she didn’t ask anything about me. So don’t worry. There wasn’t a lot of talking.”

Okay, that might have been a bit backhanded. Except why should the Mandalorian care who you fool around with?

He snorts in disgust, shaking his head again.

“Huff and puff all you like, Mando. I’m impervious to your slut-shaming,” you jeer with barely concealed fury. The upswell of anger has you increasing your pace to catch up with him. “Why are we even having this conversation?”

“Because before, you were satisfied torturing me with your…morning stretches and too small towels. Now you're going to do something reckless just to spite me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. I had terrible impulse control long before I met you.” Ugh, he really was such an arrogant jerk sometimes. “Besides, I’ve had my hand three inches from your dick, and I don’t know what your name is either.”

You immediately freeze on the spot. Both of your hands actually slap over your open mouth as though you could stuff the words back in. You’re finally realizing just how drunk you got by the force with which you immediately sober up.

Mando stops in his tracks to turn and face you.

“I’m so sorry!” You blanch. “That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have said that. We don't have that kind of a relationship.”

He walks towards you with a menacing stride that causes you to retreat a few steps until you feel the bite of the concrete wall press against your back.

Fuck he’s taller than you remember, looming over you, and you can only stare up into that impenetrable black view plate like some terrified quarry. The same face you’ve seen frozen in carbonite.

“And what exactly is the nature of our relationship?”

His voice is the same even keel as always, but there’s an…undertone?

You’re not sure if it’s a rhetorical question.

Your breathing becomes shallower, and you can feel your heartbeat quicken. He’s so close you can see your reflection in his helmet despite standing in deep shadow cast by the dim tunnel lights.

“You told Gwellis I was a friend.”

“Hmmm...” it comes out of the modulator as a low rumble that vibrates through the air between you. Then he takes you completely by surprise, resting the length of his forearm against the wall a few inches from your head. He nods slowly. “But you want to be more than friends.”

Time seems to have slowed down under his fixed attention. You’re too nervous to say something clever, so you should know better than to open your mouth.

“Y-y-yes,” you whisper breathlessly.

Paralyzed, you have to remind yourself to draw breath. Your body roils with tension, thrilled at this sudden shift in dynamic. Wasn’t he about to yell at you?

You nod again emphatically because you have no air left to speak.

His other hand slips behind you, loosely palming the small of your back. The fabric of your bodysuit is so thin you can feel the pinch of pressure under each of his fingertips. It’s like he’s about to kiss you, but…

“Does this—ahem,” your mouth is so fucking dry. You timidly lick your lips and try to swallow the lump in your throat. Then, a rush of nervous laughter bubbles up. You giggle, and there’s the faintest note of anxious hysteria. Still a little tipsy, then.

“Is this because I made out with a girl?”

He laughs, “Maybe. I don’t know how long Bril and I stood there watching the two of you. I... I just can’t pretend not to see it anymore.”

“See what?” You ask as though you’re holding onto the edge of a cliff.

“The way your face lights up when someone makes you happy,” he says. “All I could think was…when’s it my turn...to be the one who makes you happy?”

That’s not something you ever expected to hear from the Mandalorian. This gruff, stoic man who never spoke about himself or his feelings.

“That may have been one of the sweetest lines anyone’s ever tried on me. Where have you been hiding all this charm?”

“I don’t usually need a line,” he says wryly.

And you laugh, glad to see that being vulnerable didn’t do anything to dampen his ego.

“That’s right,” your lips quirk into a grin. “You’ve got women throwing themselves at you.”

Without shifting his position from the wall, his hand pulls the visor from your face.

“You really didn’t do all that to make me jealous?”

“I mean, you weren’t the intended audience. She knows one of the bouncers…but I guess they’re terrified of Bril, so she had to convince him she was flying solo? Honestly, she probably would have stripped down naked and asked me to spank her if it got her into that VIP section.”

“That might have caused a scene.”

“But, it was nice…feeling wanted.”

You don’t know how long you stand there in silence before his gloved hand reaches out for you. Gently taking your face in his grasp, you feel his leather fingers trace behind your ear and along your throat, his thumb stroking your jaw.

“How have you been living on my ship all this time, and you don’t know how much I want you?”

When you fantasized about this moment, you imagined coming together in a desperate, heady rush. Not like this, with giddy apprehension, excitement, and nervous laughter.

“Hmmm, Bril said you have a thing for bad girls. What would you want with a nice girl like me?”

“Are you so sure about that?” He asks, letting his hand rest on the back of your neck. “It sounds like you have a gambling problem.”

At that, you let out a burst of laughter. “You’re getting a little too good at these sassy retorts.”

“I learned it from watching you,” he says in a low voice that makes your stomach clench.

His grip on your lower back slides up between your shoulder blades, pulling you against him, with your nose about an inch from the jaw of his helmet. Your hands feel too passive, so you lift them up to press against his firm stomach below the chest plate.

In a breathy whisper, you ask, “What about a good girl…who does bad things to you?”

He pauses as though thinking about it in earnest. “Sounds like you’re going to get me into deep trouble.”

“Deep trouble?” You smirk, arching an eyebrow. “Just how deep?”

Your hand slides down his stomach to cup the bulging erection that’s building between his thighs.

“Maybe deeper than you can handle,” he replies in a tight voice, placing a hand over your grip and squeezing. His hips roll upward, thrusting into your palm.

“I might surprise you, Mando.”

Your fingers pinch around his shaft to stroke the length of him over his pants. His head tilts upward, and a long guttural groan escapes his lips. Immediately, he takes your hips in both hands and presses you against the wall.

“But you said we couldn’t—”

His hands, which had been making their way up your ribcage toward the swell of your breasts, pull away from your body. In an attempt to respect the seriousness of the conversation, you also remove your hand from his cock. Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

“I thought you couldn’t be with anyone like this?”

“Yeah, I kinda realized that after seeing your reaction to Xi’an.”

“Did you have sex with her? With…Morigan?”

“Yes,” he says. “Because they wanted to fuck a Mandalorian in his armor and leave after.”

This might be the first time you’ve heard him swear. It’s kind of shocking. Especially in this context. A harsh word for something that should be a celebration. Instead, he sounded bitter and ashamed.

“That’s not what you want, Thulani.”

“Ok, I’ll set aside for a minute how incredibly rude it is to tell a woman what she wants…Mando, are you saying you’ve never been with someone you love?”

He turns his head to look away from you, straightening his shoulders. “I’m not great at trusting people.”

“But…you trust me?”

“I do,” he nods.

“Then why—”

“Because there are things you’ll want from me, things you deserve that I can’t give you.” His voice is so tired and defeated. “And I don’t know how long we’ll have before you realize that…”

“Hmmmf,” you stifle a laugh. Shit, that’s going to piss him off.

“What’s funny?” Mando asks defensively.

“I’ve seen you leap into the mouth of a giant flying lizard–on impulse–in the heat of battle. But this is what terrifies you?”

You place a hand on his arm and try to convey the tenderness of your feelings. “Of course, I want to kiss your lips and feel your tongue inside of me, but…” you laugh softly. “Shit, Mando, no one’s ever made me beg for it before.”

Some of his earlier temper rises up again. “Has it occurred to you that’s what this is really about? Chasing after something you can’t have…what happens when it turns out this isn't what you wanted?”

But he didn’t sound all that angry. He sounded afraid. “Do you honestly think that, Mando? That I’d be so careless with your feelings?”

“No,” he says. “You’ve got the kindest heart…even after everything you've seen…it’s what I admire most about you.”

He takes your hand from his arm and holds it between his two leather palms. “Which is why you should run from me. With that new ID, you could get a good job on some Mid-Rim planet, or I can take you back to Ingtar myself. But you should take your chance at a decent life while you can…before I drag you into the darkness with me.”

Without realizing it, your eyes begin to fill with tears, and his thumb traces across your cheek to wipe them away.

“See…I’ll just make you cry.”

“I’m sad that, for whatever reason, you don’t think you deserve to be loved.” You assert. “This whole time, you’ve been making these arguments to harden your heart.” Something between a sigh and a laugh crosses your lips as you brush away the remaining tears. “Was your plan to just stifle your emotions and masturbate in the fresher indefinitely?”

“How do you—right," he nods. "No helmet in the fresher.”

“I didn’t see anything! But your thoughts are…very loud.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one locking myself in the shower,” he says teasingly. “You aren’t as quiet as you think.”

You blush spectacularly. “I was thinking of you, if you must know.”

“I’m not surprised,” he says, catching your fist in his hand before you can land a punch to his stomach. “I like to think about that stretch you do with your hands on the floor, and you lift your leg up to the ceiling.”

“I knew that one would get your attention,” you wink before returning to the heart of the matter. “Were we supposed to dance around this forever? Whatever this is?”

“At first, I just focused on how much the kids needed you and how selfish it would be to sabotage that relationship for them…because of what? Because I couldn’t keep it in my pants?” And that sound of shame and regret tinged his words again. “But now it feels like this dam is bursting in my chest and…and I don’t know what to do.”

“Because you’re afraid of falling for me?”

He sighs, “What makes you think I haven’t already?”

“Mando,” you say, taking him by both arms this time and looking up into his view plate. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow—and neither do you. I wish I could say that we’ll never hurt each other, but I can’t know that either. What I do know is that my pulse skips a beat whenever I see you. I get butterflies in my stomach just standing next to you. My whole body is full of deep feelings for you. Feelings I want to explore with my heart and my hands. And you’re right; we don’t know how much time we have, which is why I don’t want to waste any more of it.”

His hands cup your chin, holding your face up to him.

“How deep?”

“See!” You roll your eyes. “That’s the sexy voice. Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

He laughs. And you think back to those days when it was like pulling teeth just to get him to talk to you. His laughter came so easily now. Surely, that was proof enough that he loves you, too. Even if he hadn’t said the word, you heard it in every smile and laugh you won from him.

“I know you’re not going to take off your helmet to kiss me, so what happens next?”

“I will,” he says seriously.

“What?”

“I’m going to kiss you. Not right now in this dingy tunnel. But I’m going to figure out some way to make this work. I just need you to give me a little more time.”

“I don’t want you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or compromised,” you say honestly. “So take whatever time you need. Just know that I’ll be waiting for you. Eagerly waiting.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been thinking about this non-stop since you climbed on top of me.”

Your mouth breaks into a wide smile. “If I recall correctly…none of that involved taking off your helmet.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“For what? Carrying me over your shoulder like a sack of grain?”

Suddenly, his hands return to your hips, and his knee nudges your thighs apart. “For leaving things….unfinished.”

You don’t remember placing your hands on his chest, and the sudden shock of cold from the Beskar makes you shiver. Heart racing, you spread your fingers under his cloak, feeling the tension in the firm muscles of his back, and wrap your arms around his neck.

Pressed against him, the heat rising from his body surrounds you despite the layers of fabric and metal, and the cold concrete.

His hands are so strong. You gasp when he grips your hips tighter. He crests the curve of your lower back, his palms sliding downward to gather the swell of your ass in his hands. The tips of his fingers dig into your skin, and you hear a choked groan when his pelvis rocks upward, glancing your hips.

“Is this ok?”

“I let a complete stranger grab my tits in the middle of the dancefloor. What do you think I’ll let you do to me in this deserted service tunnel?”

“Hmmm, I bet you’ve been dripping wet since you put your hand on my cock,” he says in a low growl.

“Uh-huh,” you nod enthusiastically.

“That’s my girl.”

He continues to trail up your back and over your shoulder blades, hands sliding across your underarms and finally over your breasts. Your breath hitches audibly as he rolls and squeezes them, your nipples budding under his wide palms.

Gathering and kneading your breasts, he takes a deep breath, and a rough sigh spills from the modulator, sending a clenching wave of desire shuddering through you.

The pulse of your heartbeat is now located between your legs, your clit swelling with every throb. You were already wet, but now you can feel the flood of warmth spreading across the seam of your bodysuit as Mando traces his hands down your stomach, down lower, lower...

His hand is so warm between your thighs. Your belly clenches when he draws the heel of his thumb along the length of you, both easing and building the tight ache inside you. Using the tip of his finger to stroke up and down over your vulva, the pressure spreads you beneath his fingers.

“Mmmm...”

A sound halfway between a moan and a cry escapes your lips.

“What was that?” He asks.

And you fully melt hearing how much enjoyment he’s taking in pleasing you.

“Mmmm-more.” You let yourself smile genuinely up at him, lacing your fingers at the base of his neck, your forearms meeting where you brace your elbows against his chest plate. “Please, don’t stop.”

His hands slip down your back again to grasp your ass, lifting you up and splaying you across the top of his right thigh, his knee wedged against the wall behind you. “Because you said please.”

There’s a raised ridge that runs the length of his Beskar plate, and he positions you on top of it so that it runs between the cleft of your labia. With both hands still gripping your ass, he rolls your hips forward to grind your clit against it. The balls of your feet just reach the floor, but with the strength of his arms steadying you, you manage to rock yourself back and forth in rhythm, arching your back and tucking your pelvis like the sway of a pendulum.

This is technically a public place, but you’ve always needed breathwork to get yourself there, so you don’t bother trying to keep quiet.

From the corner of your eye, you see the feet of passersby slow, perhaps searching for the sources of the obscene mewling and hitched sighs pouring forth from your lips.

At some point, his arm wraps around your lower back to keep you upright as you ride his thigh. His other hand braces your chest, thumb, and fingers, teasing your nipples over the fabric of your suit.

The tempo of your hips alternates between slow, heavy circles and shallow rapid thrusts—your clit so swollen the rigid metal pinches with each pass. This wet, you glide through every motion, your taut calves and hamstrings trembling. Then, the rising tension peaks into a hot, cresting wave that spreads across every surface of your body.

Your fingers dig into the back of his neck, your scalp tingles, the tightness in your chest releases, and your cunt throbs numbly.

Your panting, plus the wail you let loose, have surely clued Mando that you’ve already cum, but he continues to hold you in place, one arm around your back, the other gripping your ribs.

You rest your head on his shoulder and pull your arms down from around his neck to grasp his hips under the flak vest and tassets, where there’s only one layer of fabric. The closest you can get to him.

For now.

“Come on,” he says, finally pulling his leg out from between your thighs, setting you back down. “You’ve got fifty thousand credits burning a hole in your pocket.”

*****************

Keep reading - Volume 3 - Post #9: Drugstore Cowgirl

Back to Volume 3 - all posts

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mando smut #sexy mando #sexymando #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian smut #din dijarin x reader #mando fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian #mandalorian smut #din djarin #star wars smut #din djarin smut

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widevibratobitch · 5 months

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Ok. Any "Terror" fic recommendations?

good lord YES countless really. idk what you're looking for specifically though.

i myself am a fitzier girlie first and foremost with some occasional fitzconte thrown in. i'll best direct you to my ao3 bookmarks, specifically to the tag i keep for my personal favourites, the crème de la crème of fics I've read and liked.

some examples under the cut.

i am a connoisseur of ✨fitzier hatesex✨ and there's surprisingly not that many of those compared to fics where they're all lovey-dovey with each other (which. dont get me wrong. i also enjoy from time to time). so i'll give you some that have truly stuck with me. it's mostly pwp sorry not sorry.

Some lovely perilous thing by cosmogram

“Oh,” James gasps, and really, it’s almost too easy. James ought to have some modicum of shame, ought to be able to master himself better than this—better than turning to a doe-eyed dissolute the second a man so much as breathes near his eager young cock. “Not here, Francis,” James pants out, voice already hitching high. “The great cabin, at the very least.”

“Here, I think,” Francis returns crisply. “On your knees.”

it's just so fucking good. very hot. i honestly don't know what else i could say about this, it's one of my personal favourites amongst personal favourites (along with the one i link next, from the same author).

Devotion by cosmogram

Francis does not seek him anymore, but neither—still worse—does Francis bother to dismiss him when James arrives of his own volition, each time with all the hope of the most wretched fool. “Oh, get to it, then,” Francis muttered with sublime disinterest that very day when James appeared in his cabin’s doorway. James had, in fact, come to talk—but he had not hesitated when Francis gestured dispassionately to the front of his trousers. He had dropped, wordlessly, to his knees to obey.

everyone give it up for erectile dysfunction! hip-hip hurray! the author sums it up well with the James Fitzjames’s Tragically Unmet Praise Kink tag. this one is a little more on the sad side, Francis is being a goddamn gremlin and James is at his most needy and pathetic. nothing hotter to me personally than sucking someone's limp dick and crying about it. i find myself thinking about this fic an ungodly amount. i love it so much. again, best of the best of the best.

nice dream by icicaille

Francis swirled the last dregs in his glass and peered into its depths. Some kind of grim satisfaction had come over him. “I’ll tell you what you want to hear,” he said. “For a certain price.” It was foolhardy beyond measure. Damning, even.

basically, Fitzjames gives Crozier a blowjob in exchange for Francis telling him some nice reassuring things he needs to hear so badly it makes him look stupid - malicious compliance from Francis of course with some nice internalised homophobia. James is, again, pathetic as all shit with a little twist at the end. no one is having a good time except for me of course.

hunger's vocabulary by icicaille

“Ah, Sir John.” Francis cleared his throat once the wardroom was near to empty. “May I borrow James? Regarding the Lloyd’s balance. We took readings that require further inspection. I’ll send him back in a gig—tonight if the weather holds, in the morning otherwise.”

chef's kiss. just two cunty cunts going at it (the dialogues are so good...) with a sprimkle of some angsty self-loathing Francis. what more could you ask for.

you are coming down with me by dazydaisy

Chapter one: “If I loved you I could perhaps fuck you as if I hated you, in order to please you, but, as you are surely aware by now Fitzjames, you and love are oil and water to me.”

Chapter two: ‘Maybe,’ James had begun to unlace the front of his trousers with a carelessness he had (shamefully) practiced, ‘if you loved yourself even a little you would be able to stop yourself from doing as I command. But, as I’m sure you know by now Francis, you and love are like oil and water. The two simply do not meet.’

Mum and dad are fighting again

pretty much what it says on the tin. just two heartbroken bitches fucking and being cruel to each other and im eating that shit up thanks

A Willing Foe and Sea-Room by ClutchHedonist

“Nnh.” Fitzjames whines around his thumb.

“None of that. Clearly, you can’t shut your own bloody mouth to save your life.” Francis huffs, “So I’ll shut it for you.”

pre-canon. Fitzjames - still as a baby lieutenant - and Crozier have a brief but very hot encounter during some Admiralty Party.

Caïssa by cosmogram

“You said you had a question,” Francis snapped, irritable already.

“Yes,” James said, flushed and resplendent still from the company next door—undaunted and loose-limbed in just the way that plucked cloying ire from a raw place in Francis. “How’s your chess game?”

A seduction.

a little bonus to the list, because i love this fic and it recently updated after a very long hiatus (it's still a wip tho but i hope the author manages to finish it, they're one of my favourite writers in this fandom). no hatesex here, it's more of a slow-burn with past Crozier/Ross and really great dialogues, as always. Neptune also makes an appearance.

Bespoke by ktula

James is trying to escape his grief after Sir John's death. Francis, in his own way, is trying to do the same. OR: The one where James Fitzjames has a bit of the genders, and his captain is surprisingly accommodating of that.

ending this rec list on a kinder and softer note, as a treat. this was one of the first fics ive read in this fandom and still one of my favourites. not really hate sex though they're still rather uncertain and wary about the other. very good, very sensual, gender-heavy. beautiful fic really.

BONUS have some excellent fitzjames/le vesconte and fitzjames/franklin - as a treat.

you don't have friends (you have admirers) by JamesFitzjames

James Fitzjames is a man who does not seek help.

each chapter deals with something different, so while the fic is unfinished it's not really some painful cliffhanger (tho i would love to see it completed one day). second chapter is some excellent, excellent Fitzconte. last chapter also has, why, of course, some really delightful ✨fitzier hatesex✨.

Hoo-ray and up she rises by TheGreenMeridian

They’re rip-roaringly drunk and laughing loud enough at each other to wake half the neighbourhood as they stumble into their lodgings.

i only like Fitzconte if it's done in a very specific way and this fic fits my needs just perfectly. just two besties being sillayyyy. what, like you never gave your bro a handjob just for shits and giggles?

Whatever morning brings by isamariposa

Brutus spends his life torn between disquiet, distaste and desperate pining for Caesar, leading to his infamous betrayal. In his own final moments, he raises a plea: “Jupiter Maximus, take pity on me. If by Your grace there is a way to atone for what I did to him, I beg You: let me do so in the afterlife.”

His wish is granted.

yes, yes, this is technically an HBO Rome fic but each chapter deals with a different time period - the third is dedicated to The Terror and can totally be read on its own. it's some truly excellent Sir John/Fitzjames with a sprimkle of some delightful Fitzconte tomfoolery. It's really, really good.

okay one last BONUS

devourer of debts by allmyloyaldead(van1lla_v1lla1n)

Cornelius Hickey receives, and devours, and adapts.

What Hickey receives from the universe and what he takes for himself, the pieces with which he sews himself together into a man, or something like one.

some incredible Hickey insanity. truly brilliant. the gifts Hickey receives from Billy, Irving and Fitzjames, short and sweet (by sweet i obviously mean gruesome and fucked up <3)

#the terror #fitzier #fitzconte #those are just a few really. couldn't possible list them all. just take and eat from my bookmarks dear <3 #this fandom is full of SO many incredibly talented people. so many truly gorgeous fics.#the terror fic rec #fic rec

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fourswords · 24 days

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i do like comparing the fan translation of the fsa manga to the viz translation sometimes because i like seeing the differences in the implications and how that plays out later in the story. in this specific instance i'm looking at the difference in translations in ch2 when shadow is about to strike green down and the fairy appears and drives off shadow with her light and what interests me about it is the difference in shadow's words after he's like "argh the maiden still has power even after i sealed her"—in the viz translation, he says the (infamous) "light!! i hate... ...the cursed... ...light!" while in the fan translation he says "light!! light... i'm afraid... damn..." and both these sentences are accompanied by him clutching his shaking wrist. and quite frankly i do love the bluntness of the fan translation more because while shadow being scared is IMPLIED with the shaking (since he shakes like a chihuahua when the dark cloud scares the shit out of him again with light magic and he admits he's afraid AGAIN later on) i think there's a kind-of sort-of implied thing going on that you can see better with the fan translation and that thing is that the light scares shadow far more than it hurts him. which was quite literally the point of zelda's words to him at the end ("do you really think the light will hurt you?"). like it CAN hurt him obviously (see: The Fucking Four Sword) but when it comes to light by itself the only thing holding him back is his own absolute terror because he was having like seven panic attacks rolled into one anytime a light source got anywhere near him.

AND THEN THE LIGHT DIDN'T EVEN KILL HIM WHEN HE "DIED". that was the POINT. he's link's shadow and when he disappeared into the light he quite literally reformed the second link was whole again. yes he lost the tangible body given to him via the power of the dark mirror (which could honestly be traded out for another power source) but he is Still Alive. he is still HIMSELF. he walks in the light alongside link and zelda and it doesn't harm him and he's smiling and waving a little thumbs-up in the air. there MUST be light for a shadow to be cast in the first place. light is as integral to him as it is to link and zelda. that's the POINTTTTTTT

#i really think he does eventually get a body again because the manga very clearly implies that his story is not over by sheer virtue of the #fact that HE! IS! STILL! ALIVE!!!!!!!#ahem. anyway #fsa #txt

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jehilew · 6 months

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*singy-songy voice* I have a snippet!

This one is @cricketmilks fault. I told 'em I wished the soul marks fics hadn't gone out of favor, I'd love to read a Sahejul one. I was immediately informed that it was of utmost necessity that I write one and keep it alive. So here we are 🤷🏻‍♀️

I mean, how could I say no?? 😘

He was nigh on seventy years old and goddamn dead for nearly fifty of them when she marked him.

A sharp, searing pain rips across his skin, just under his collarbone, yanking him fully out of sleep with an instinctively strangled yelp. All three of his eyes are flown wide, darting around the room, his entire body shaking with tension, fear, dread a thick, nauseating mass in the pit of his stomach. Pain still traps the breath in his lungs, and his heart threatens to obliterate his ribcage with fight-or-flight response.

He quickly determines there is no threat in either the corporeal realm or the spiritual one, and flops back on his pillow. He drags in a full, long breath, lids dropping over his eyes in relief. Residual terror leaves him jittery, and his heart still races ninety-to-nothing. It'll take a few minutes to come back down, but he knows he's in for a rough night; there's hardly ever a night during which he only has one episode like this.

PTSD is a sorry bastard. He won’t ever sleep so deep that flashbacks of captivity in Aspett clear back to his childhood won’t tear him awake and shivering, drenched in sweat, eyes wildly thrown in every corner, looking for threats. He won’t ever be able to mindlessly tune out the sound of footsteps approaching his quarters, or not try to identify who they belong to, and what kind of mood they might be in. He won’t ever really be able to feel unexpected touch without expecting excruciating pain to follow it, and he won’t ever be able to tolerate expected touch for long without experiencing a sharp jag of anxiety.

Fuck, he hates this; even now, over four decades later, that shit can still shred him to ribbons.

He draws a curtain back from his bed, and turns on the lantern hanging from the ceiling. Pulling back the collar of his shirt, he awkwardly tucks in his chin to look down where the pain still burns.

And he freezes statue-still.

He can’t fucking breathe.

He could swear his heart sputters, then skips a little too long for even his dead self to be comfortable with.

There, along the line of his collarbone, flashes a near unintelligible chicken-scratch of a script in gold across his deep-toned skin.

Well, he’s assuming it’s unintelligible; it is definitely shitty penmanship, but to be fair, he is trying to read it upside down.

“Holy shit,” he barely hisses, shock washing him numb clear down into his bones. “No goddamn way,” he mutters, immediately kicking off the covers. He swings himself over the edge of the bed and drops to the floor in a fluid motion, his landing quietened with skill and a thick rug stretched out from under his bunk. Long-legged strides see him in the bathroom, shirt already yanked off, lanterns lit, and wide hands white-knuckling the edges of the sink while he stares at his chest in the mirror.

It’s chicken-scratch if he’s ever seen it, the sentence, if one wanted to call it that, scribbling out impatiently over his flesh, irritation and no small amount of fear evident in every scrawled loop of a damn letter, but it’s not unintelligible.

He can read every bit of that shit just fine.

'AAARGH! Wha—? Who are you?!'

“Motherfucker,” he swears savagely under his breath, unable to tear his eyes off those words, reading them and re-reading them, over and over. Anger, gods, how he's angry over this, frustration, and fuck him anyway, hope, sizzles up relentlessly, mercilessly, and he's fully helpless to do anything about it except just feel it swell up in him and continue to keep re-reading those words.

“The hell am I supposed to do with a soul mark now?” He hisses through gritted teeth at his reflection, a finger already up and lightly tracing the first words the supposed love of his stupid life will scream at him, from the looks of things.

The next realization hits him, and it’s kind of devastating. She was only just born, whatever first words he’ll say to her zipped across her body somewhere, only where her words are gold, his will be in silver.

She’s going to grow up, knowing her soulmate already is dead.

Because he is.

And the only way to be with him is if she's dead as a doornail and fully trapped with him on this godforsaken circus he calls life.

#marionetta #sahed #julia #sahejul #sahed/julia

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seek--rest · 9 months

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Final Thoughts on The Dumb Teen Show

I'm too old for this media, this media is not written or meant for me.

Alas, we move:

It's the finale and I must finally speak my truth. I have not nor will I ever give a shit about Taylor and Steven. Taylor was a terrible friend to Belly and I'm sorry, I never forgave her for that. Cheating is despicable and I know that's rich coming from a show that's highlighting a love triangle between brothers but that's just how it is. Taylor is boring and annoying, Steven is grating as a person and as a brother and all the chatter of how "this show is bad but at least we have Steve and Taylor" I simply cannot relate to any of you!! They're bad people and not even in an interesting can't wait to root for them kind of way they're just Bad and more offensively, Boring.

JEREMIAH GET BEHIND ME. The way you deserve so much better in this show and in this universe. I've long been Team Jeremiah in the sense that everyone needs some fucking therapy (himself included) and that he needs to be in a better universe, with a better show and better writers. This is a boy that is consistently pulled around, has to fake a smile because that's all that is expected of him and the (1) time he actually shares his frustrations in a way that isn't absolutely perfect, he's mistreated by damn near everyone including the fandom. Everything about him in the last episode is a person that has so much maturity in a way that just doesn't make sense considering the hell he's been through. He's the better person.

Which was no help to fucking Susannah!!!!!!!! I've long since lamented that the show dropped the ball on exploring the real, tangible grief of Laurel in losing her Susannah and the more the season went on, the more frustrated I was because SUSANNAH IS A TERRIBLE MOTHER. She's arguably a shit sister. She is, within the narrative itself without looking for subtext, someone who is really fucked up! And what do we have to show for it! Nothing! The show did absolutely NOTHING with what they set up for her and never once interrogates how fucking demented she is to tell a fucking sixteen year old on her death bed to watch out for Conrad. poor Conrad. You love Conrad. He loves you. This isn't even because I think Jeremiah is the better person/brother (I do) but on any level you swing it, that is seriously fucked up to ask that of a teenager. As a grown ass woman!! What is wrong with you! Why are you asking her to watch out for your grown ass son AND ONLY the one son? When Jeremiah walked into the room after that?? It's like fuck did you forget you're a mother to TWO people here?

Removing Jeremiah entirely, that would still be so supremely fucked up and that is just one thing of the many things that have shown cracks in Susannah's life and experiences that now? We'll never get to explore. Laurel, hold my hand. Go to therapy with me. You will see the truth in time.

Conrad is a fucking terror of a human being. I'm sorry, I cannot understand how or why he has so many fucking defenders especially from anyone with a fully developed prefrontal cortex. "He's mourning his mother" "he doesn't know how to express his feelings" "love it when he's petty! king!" like what is wrong with all of you. This isn't to say "omg your ship is soooo bad because it's unhealthy" because whatever, do what you want. But for so many to argue with their whole chests that Conrad is like an angel sent from heaven that is tortured and misunderstood and to mean that with utter sincerity has me convinced 1) every single one of you is also 16, never been in love before and/or in love with the toxicity of an emo bad boy or 2) loves the toxic drama. Which if it's the second, that's fine! But it's rare (if ever) that it's someone acknowledging that Conrad is a big fucking red flag.

I know the drill. I know what the endgame is. I haven't read the books but I don't have to. I understand Narratives. Conrad is going to "grow" and "develop" and the narrative will "prove" that fuck whatever Belly chooses, fuck the objectively more mature and more insightful and person who actively communicates with Belly even as a teenager that is Jeremiah, the show will contrive some way to bring Belly and Conrad together because they're Meant to Be or some shit.

Fuck fate. Fuck having to be emotionally manipulated and twisted around. Fuck having to being told that you're not mature enough and grow up from the same person throwing constant temper tantrums. Fuck the age difference honestly. Fuck the fact that this person always saw her as a little kid until she flirted with someone else.

I don't condone violence but Laurel's slap? Idk I think Belly needed that reality check. She needs to leave both of these boys alone. She needs to be in therapy, she needs to be single, and needs to let go of this idea that the world revolves around her.

I hate this dumb show so fucking much.

Can't wait for the next season.

#seek streams #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty spoilers #tsitp #tsitp spoilers

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phoenix-reburned · 10 months

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I think the most damning thing to my faith and what really started my deconstruction was the concept of a loving god and hell.

It's stated that we are made in the image of god, meaning that god SHOULD have similar morals as me, obviously with some differences because sin nature and he's y'know GOD. I am an extremely empathetic person. So empathetic, that I spent quarantine in a near-constant state of panic, dread, depression, and pure terror for every person I saw on TV, at school, hell even at church. The idea of anyone ever being damned to hell literally caused me to become physically sick. I was unable to function for a month and a half straight. I had renewed my faith and interest in church because I was scared of hell, and it led to this horrible state of terror I was trapped in.

If I, a mere human with a fraction of god's love and empathy, could be driven to this sort of state over just the idea of hell, how could god be okay at all with anyone going there? How could he pick and choose what creation of his would be saved? Some people would say that it was necessary, that it was the wages of sin, that we deserved it. But if god made the rules, why would he make them in such a cruel way? Why would he actively enforce a system, that he created, that meant a majority of his creation would be tortured for eternity? He could have never left the tree in the garden, or simply gotten rid of sin.

And some people would say that we send ourselves to hell. If I was a parent and my kid wanted to touch a hot stove, my first response would be to take them away and turn off the stove so they didn't get hurt. Even if they got upset at me for it, even if they disrespected me for it. The safety and well-being of my child would matter more than any petty actions they did in anger. Plus, punishment should ALWAYS be corrective. If hell functioned like purgatory did I wouldn't have an issue. But it doesn't. It's only function is to hurt. What kind of petty dick do you have to be to torture someone because they either didn't know you existed or made a wrong choice? When my siblings didn't listen to me and got hurt my first response was to help them, not hurt them. And those aren't even my kids.

"But freewill-" He's GOD. He can create a world with freewill without hell or sin. He's fucking GOD and this is what he decided was the best plan. He could have just chosen to forgive everyone but he didn't. He sacrificed himself to save us from his own wrath. The shit god says in the bible aligns with the same phrases narcissists use to manipulate their victims. And don't even get me started on the copious amounts of murder he either directly causes or endorses, or the horrible things he legalized in the old testament.

And you can't just use the "sin goes against gods nature" bullshit on me either. He's literally god. He shouldn't be confined by anything if he's truly all powerful. I understand if sin is a problem but he also allowed it to happen in the first place, does nothing to stop it, and literally let the equivalent of a 5 year old decide whether or not his creation would be tortured for eternity. If sin is against his nature he could simply will it out of existence, but he either chooses not to or can't. Either of these would actively contradict two of the qualities he claims to possess.

And no, his response to someone wanting to be away from him should not be eternal torment. Even if you try and justify it by saying he's respecting our wishes, he can do that without deliberately causing actual suffering and agony for eternity.

I did the religious thing for 18 years, and this was just the first realization that woke me up to the flaws of Chr*st*an*ty. Any chr*st*ans that wanna try and preach to me or use this to try and refute my claims, just don't. I've heard every excuse in the book (literally) and did months and MONTHS of research on topics like this to try and convince myself that god was real. I desperately wanted to believe because I didn't want to leave the faith. But the more I researched this and other topics the more I realized how false so much of the religion is.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense or I'm missing stuff, it's late at night and I just needed to get this outta my head. Feel free to add your own thoughts about it here. I know others have definitely explained this much better than I have but I've spent a lot of time this week looking at exvangelical stuff and I'm in my feels about it lol

#e rambles #exvangelical #deconstructing christianity #deconstructing religion #deconstruction #deconstructed club #religion #religion tw #ask to tag #i fr dont want a bunch of religious peeps preacbing to me #its why i censored the word #long post

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