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#i dont even know if i can describe the idea behind this
uhlunaro · 11 months
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THREE'S A COMPETITION
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pairing: leon kennedy x reader x ada wong
summary: Both Ada and Leon have something to prove, and they choose you to settle the score.
words: 4.8k
warnings: 18+ for the love of god (threesome, reader has female-gendered anatomy but uses gender neutral terms, oral sex for everyone, orgasm denial, praise kink, light choking, rough vaginal sex, porn with feelings, smoking)
notes: this is my magnum opus and i dont think i will ever do this again (me when i lie) so enjoy it while u can!!! also ada and leon banter but do not touch each other bc this is about ME i mean US!
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Within a lavish hotel, some ten-thousand miles from HQ, the three of you sit. The other side of the earth, a room bathed in shadow.
How you got here is an enigma. Why you’re here is even more lost on you. Half-bet, half-promise between your current lover and his ex. The desperate crawl of a long-lasting feud that refuses to die. The final form of brewing spite. A proving ground—your body declared the field.
This is more than good versus evil. Umbrella versus victim. Personal, vindictive.
The idea is both terrifying and… well. Extremely arousing.
Ada, perched on the edge of the bed, ever cool-countenanced, mysterious in a way only she can be. Beautiful and dangerous.
Leon, leaned back against the dresser, guarded by crossed arms and a straight-line mouth. He hides his thoughts well. Agreed to this on the principle of proving her wrong.
I know what we like, Leon. There’s no competition here when it’s fact.
And now, here you sit cross-legged on the bed, thumbing at the soft sheets. Sheets that will be ruined by the end of the night.
Ada tilts her head, brushes silky hair behind an ear. “Well? Do we just plan to sit here and stare at each other all night?” You meet her eye, and painted lips curl into a grin. “Come over here, beautiful.”
The woman is magnetic, voice a siren song that you find difficult to disobey, smooth to the ears, massages some repressed part of your brain. You understand now. Leon’s attachment to her. All the mystery, an opaque shroud that even you grew curious about at one point. Several, if you wish to be truthful.
She toes off her heels and turns to your approaching form. Reaches out a hand to steady you.
“Don’t worry about Leon. He’s a sore loser,” she says. Curls a hand around your waist, the other settling over your nape. Burning in their intensity. “Let’s get started.”
She kisses like she fights: dominating, moves with strict calculation until your breath grows heavy and a whine starts in your throat. Her tongue licks into your mouth, flicks soft against your own, and your hands rise to comb through her hair.
She pulls away with a hum, ghosts a thumb over your bottom lip. Teasing, a taste test. “My shade suits you. Don’t you think, Leon?” She takes your chin in hand to turn your head.
He pushes away from the dresser and walks toward you, eyes severe in their emotion. “Yeah. Cute.”
Anticipation thumps away at your chest. This is happening. It’s happening, and it’s weird and awkward and you’re already wet. A fact that should leave you embarrassed, but you buzz head-to-toe in anticipation.
What does that say about you? You don’t really care, if you’re being honest. 
He lowers into a crouch before you and tugs up the hem of your dress, movements impatient, fingers hot as they map out the flesh of your thighs then hips then waist. Then you sit before them in just your underwear, and Ada breathes out a laugh.
“Sensitive, aren’t you?” she asks, glides a finger over the seat of your underwear. Laughs again when your hips seek her touch. “Wet already.”
A pair of lips attach to your neck, a flash of blond hair in your peripheral. He’s perfected your body. Knows exactly where to suckle, how to bite, when to ease off. You tilt your head to the side to provide easier access, arch your back when a pair of lips bite the curve of your breast.
Drowning. The only way you can describe it. Two opposite personalities, a direct juxtaposition between shows of confidence. Leon knows you, draws on muscle memory for his expertise, weakens you with ease. Ada knows the universal, guesses with frightening accuracy what makes you tick. She’s a people-reader, clever, skillful. A master of her craft.
You weren’t expecting an equal playing field. Not by a long shot.
Leon pulls away then pushes you back to the bed with a firm hand against your chest, lips twitching at your surprised huff.
Ada scoffs from between your legs. “I was in the middle of something.”
“Don’t be so slow next time,” he says. Shifts forward on his knees to hover over you, fingertips trailing the raw-suckled skin on your neck. “This shade suits you a lot better.”
Your chest flutters, a birth of butterflies as he smiles down at you. Short-lived when slim fingers spread your legs and tug aside your underwear, and you break his gaze to stare down the line of your body. Ada, bright-eyed and grinning, lipstick smudged from your kiss, hair the messiest you’ve ever seen it.
Leon’s quick to pull your attention back. Grabs you by the throat, kisses you hard on the mouth, and you curl a hand around his wrist in silent order to stay. To squeeze.
“They like it rough. Noted,” Ada says, warm breath fanning against the lips of your cunt, before the slick heat of her tongue jolts you.
Your jaw relaxes at the sensation, as she licks over you in long, languid strokes, and he pulls away. Presses a tender kiss to your cheek.
He understands the overwhelm, knows how difficult multitasking can be, and you sigh out in thanks. Couldn’t keep a rhythm if you tried, from the agile way she curls her tongue, her pleased hums when you bite back whimpers and moans. Too early into the night for you to succumb, to break apart.
She presses her tongue inside you, swirls up against sensitive nerves, pulls out to lick hard over your clit. You find it difficult to stay your hips, to still your hands, and Leon groans when you grope at the bulge inside his jeans. Cusses harsh under his breath.
When the pleasure grows, when your thighs begin to twitch and your breathing deepens, you cling to him with shaking fingers that dimple the muscle of his bicep. Press your forehead to his shoulder. Whine mournfully when she slides two fingers into you then pulls them back out. 
“Oh, Leon. I almost don’t believe it.” She says it almost pitying, in such a sweet way that leaves you no choice but to look down at her.
After catching your eye, she spreads middle and ring finger, shiny beneath the light, your slick stringing between them. Tilts her head to inspect the sight, then sucks them into her mouth. Closes her eyes with a hum.
“Fuck me,” you hiss, drop your head back against the sheets, and Leon huffs out a breath.
“She’s a show-off.”
Ada slips both fingers back into your cunt, ends each smooth thrust with a curling pressure against your g-spot. “Show-off and confident are two very different things, though I can see how you’d confuse the two.”
Leon rises onto his knees. Fusses with the zipper of his jeans, and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Too much heat, too much sensation, and the sight of his heavy cock, ruddy at the tip and slicked with pre-cum seeks to fry your brain completely. “I figured insults would be above you by now.”
You curl both knees toward your chest, panting hard as numbing pleasure coils at the base of your spine, and she laves her tongue over the bud of your clit. Soothes a hand up the back of your thigh when you jolt. “I’m more interested in what’s below me. Aren’t you?”
You grip his pant leg until your knuckles drain of color, and he looks upon you with forest-fire reverence. A ruination that darkens his gaze, the soot of leftover trees—seeing you for the very first time. His cock twitches, drips sticky onto your belly.
That’s what this is, isn’t it. A shifting of roles, a different dynamic. He hasn’t seen you like this before. Ready to orgasm on someone else’s fingers and tongue. Very talented ones at that.
And Ada notices. Of course she does. She pulls away and leans back and you think to knee her in the jaw because you were right there, so fucking close. The beginning of the end, a white-heat char down to your bones. Until she crawls over you and brushes slick fingers against your bottom lip.
“Be good for me and open up,” she says, voice a calming purr. What else can you do but obey? Her fingers slide heavy against your tongue, and you close your eyes at the first taste of yourself. “No. Look at Leon.”
Again, you obey. Your eyes meet his as Ada presses deeper, and when you suck at her fingers, his jaw tenses beneath the skin. She pulls out, gives you an open-mouthed kiss, drags a hand down the valley of your breasts. 
Leon drips onto your belly again, and this time, she notices. Gives a short-tempered scoff. “Leon, you’re making a mess.”
“Can you blame me?”
She gazes down at you, reverence akin to blue flame, scorching in its severity. Drags fingertips over the curve of your twitching belly. “I guess not.”
You reach out to her. Dip a finger beneath the hem of her dress. “It’s unfair that you’re the only one fully dressed.” You sound as fucked-out as you must look, throat flayed raw, words slurring together. 
“So you can speak.”
“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I haven’t really had the chance.”
She coughs out a laugh, tugs her dress up and off. “You should really take a break from Leon.”
He pulls you into a sitting position, keeps a hand on your back when you find yourself unsteady. When you find that all the blood in your body has pooled between your legs. “And you never appreciated my jokes.”
She’s beautiful bathed in moonlight, slivers of pale that cut through the curtains. Slender, toned by her work.
A mercenary, you remind yourself, who deals with the enemy. But you left that shit at the door. Made a promise to each other that, for tonight, none of it matters.
You suppose that they’re no strangers to this arrangement.
The thought sours your stomach.
A slim hand rests on your knee, and when you look over, she tilts her head. Dissects you with dark eyes. Whatever she sees makes her hum, pulls her closer. “I think our little bird is having second thoughts.”
Your face numbs, almost in shame. “No. No, it’s not—“ You stop yourself with a shake of your head. Swallow thick. “Is this really just about me?”
“Who else has it been about, my dear?”
An arm circles around your waist, coaxes you into a recline against Leon’s chest. He presses a kiss to the curve of your shoulder, follows with his nose the line of your jaw. His cock fits heavy against your lower back. “It is very much about you. I would never lie about that.”
Ada’s brow furrows. “For the record, I wouldn’t either.” Despite knowing what you know, the roots of her manipulation, you believe her. She doesn't seem the type to go this far, to wield sex like ammunition after knowing how vulnerable you’ve made yourself. But you could be wrong. You often are about these things.
Still, you believe both of them in good faith, and the inner turmoil eases.
When your body relaxes, the room ceases its tension. Ada understands to keep her distance, to allow you the chance to decompress within the cage of Leon’s arms. She understands, but she stays. Keeps that hand on your knee.
It’s tender, uncharacteristic—no, that’s unfair. You only know her through anecdotes, glimpses of red, the ghost that has haunted your years-long relationship. None of your assumptions have been fair, and that’s on you.
Okay. You’re okay. A conclusion that you share aloud.
“You’re sure,” Leon says, more statement than question, and you nod your head. 
Ada leans forward, slots her lips against yours in a sweet kiss, pulls back just enough to say, “Maybe we should let you decide. How do you want us?” Her tone registers quiet, serene to the ears. A gentle nudge, a reassurance. Appreciated.
“Lay back,” you say, and she obeys, a perfect mirror to earlier orders. A flip of the dynamic.
You feel powerful. Unbelievably so. 
When you turn in Leon’s arms, his gaze softens. He offers up a precious smile, wide and adoring, and you’ve never loved anybody more in your entire life.
“You sure you’re okay?” he whispers, and you kiss him in response. Pump a fist over the length of his cock until he groans into your mouth.
You glance over your shoulder to Ada, say, “I’ll be right with you,” and your chest soars when she laughs out all breathy. A pretty sound, like mid-spring windchimes. 
You scoot back then bend over to take him into your mouth, softened down to half-hardness. An oops on your part. Nothing a conveniently-placed tongue can’t fix.
For every detail he knows about your body, you know his just as well.
“The view is picturesque from here,” Ada says. A hand curves over your ass, fingers dancing close to your labia. “I wish I had a camera on me.”
Leon sighs out shaky, breath ending on a moan when you swallow half his length and hollow your cheeks. And you try not to think about the fingers sinking into your cunt, lest you lose your rhythm or damn it altogether.
“Think mine’s better,” he pants, as you quicken the bob of your head and gently massage his balls with a cupped hand, and he spreads his knees further apart—a welcome of the sensation, a form of begging that you’ve familiarized yourself with. 
The pleasure from before begins to build, settles a brew in your belly, between your legs. Filled at both ends by two different people, connected by such strange circumstances, laving you with their attention and expertise and it’s too much in the best possible way.
The head of his cock chokes off your moan when it enters the sheath of your throat, and a large hand encircles the back of your head. A light pressure that leaves sparks setting off between your legs. You swallow around him, Ada adds a third finger, and she makes a noise of surprise when you gag then clamp down on her fingers.
You pull away to gasp, rest a cheek atop his thigh, and milk him with a slick fist. Ada proves relentless against your g-spot, relentless in the silk of her voice, forming words meant to tease, to edge you closer, a master of composure. All fueled by your bitten-off moans and chest-deep whimpers and your heart is fit to burst inside your chest. Leon fares no better above you. The faster her hand moves, the faster yours does. Until his thigh tenses beneath your cheek and he tugs your hand away with a heaving sigh and a cant of strong hips.
Still, she doesn’t stop. You push back against her hand, a silent desperation, a begging that she insists you vocalize.
“Ada. Ada, please, please, can I cum? Please?”
She stops. Pulls out and away—what is this, the second time now? The third? Your body has been reduced to static numbness. Your brain is nothing but slush. You know you’ve puddled up the sheets by now.
You take back everything you said. Fuck her.
“That’s cruel. Even for you.” Leon’s tone teases a smile, and you force yourself up to your knees. Utterly betrayed. 
“Good things come to those who wait. Pun very much intended.”
“Maybe she’s better left out from now on,” he says to you, pulls you close with a hand curled about your waist.
Ada stops you with her own, plants a kiss on the side of your neck that sends you to shudders. 
“Face me, beautiful. I want to show you something,” she says. You glance back at Leon long enough to watch him roll his eyes. “Pay no mind to him. You’ll enjoy this.”
You straddle his hips and he curls an arm around your middle, just beneath your breasts. Presses a tender kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the racing pulse of your neck. Your cunt swallows him down to the base with a wet schlick, tight and velvety and so fucking good, and he groans through clenched-shut teeth.
You bounce on him for a few shuddering moments, a half second of emptiness before the delicious fill. He’s hotter, harder than you’ve ever felt him. Almost trembles beneath you, thighs tense in an effort to hold himself back. 
A slick heat curls over your clit and you gasp out, clutch tight around his cock, drop your head back onto his shoulder. Ada braces her hands against your thighs when you attempt to close them. An overwhelm of the senses, a shock of coiling pleasure, and you ground your body with a tight fist of her hair.
They aid each other in lifting you up, both you and him on your knees, a hand wound about your neck to keep you angled back—enough for Leon to begin long, languid thrusts. Your breath catches in your throat, and you choke out a mewl when Ada seals her lips around your clit and suckles.
Every muscle in your body goes rigid. Your lungs seize. Never. Never have you felt like this before. So fucking good, an uncontrollable pleasure, a hand forced flat atop a burning plate. You think you might die like this. Might faint from slick tight thick circling—she seeks to rend you apart, and each glide of his cock sends you closer. An abyss, a nothingness. What was this even about? How did you even get here? 
It doesn’t matter. It doesn't goddamn matter anymore.
You catch your breath on a sob, body jerking to get away, to press closer. You need more. More. More please god please more—
“Harder, Leon, please—“
The hands about your waist squeeze tighter, and he angles his hips to fuck up into you, cockhead brushing against sensitive nerves in long, heavy pumps that empty your freshly-working chest of breath. 
He exhales staccato whines as you tighten around him, as Ada hums against your flesh.
“That’s it. So good for us, aren’t you?” he pants. Cuts off his own words to pull you closer, an embrace almost crushing, as if willing your bodies to meld together. 
His hips begin to slap against your ass, and you would be jolting if not for Ada’s grip on your hips. If not for the cage of his own arms.
Your orgasm hits in a sudden wave that leaves you trying to curl in on yourself. You flutter around his cock in a tight rhythm, and Ada laughs against your flesh—you know she feels it, too. Neither of them let up, grant you a break. Keep the same intensity that led you to drowning as you are now.
When the aftershocks subside and they still continue, and the overwhelm morphs into pleasure-pain, you cry out with a sharp fuck! and shove Ada’s head away. Leon slides out of you and sits back his haunches. Without them bracing your worn body, you collapse into a heap amongst the dampened sheets, into the musk of cologne and perfume and woodsmoke sex.
“Okay—“ you pause a moment to heave for breath. To swallow with a dry click. Someone hands you a glass of water. The other helps you sit up, and you guzzle down the entire thing. “Okay, no more orgasms for me. Fucking christ, there’s no way that was just one.”
“At least three, I think,” Ada says, reclined back on the bed with a sharp, boastful grin. “I told you that you’d like it, didn’t I?”
If the wet spot on the sheets has anything to say.
But now that you’re sated, they’re… not. She glistens between the legs, a coat of clear honey that you need more than want to lick off. And when you glance back at him, he smiles in that pained way you recognize as I’m gonna be nice and respect your wishes but I need to cum so bad it hurts. 
A new plan, then. Their needs breathe into you a second wind. You settle on knees and elbows between Ada’s spread legs, arch your back to welcome the stretch of his cock. In one glide, he bottoms out, balls tight against your clit. Levels out a breath as he twitches inside you.
Beneath you, Ada smiles. Low-lidded, luxurious. Plucks a dusky nipple between thumb and forefinger. The most captivating woman you’ve ever known. Arguably the most beautiful. 
“I haven’t done this in a while, so,” you dissolve into a sigh when Leon spreads the cheeks of your ass and quickens his thrusts, breathing out a stuttering sigh.
Saintlike, she finishes your thought with a reassurance, swiping a thumb over your cheek. “It’s like riding a bike, sweet thing.”
Between choked-off moans, you manage to lick over her with the flat of your tongue. She tastes just like you thought she would, earthen and musky, and the jolt of Leon’s hips presses you further against her.
Drowning. Bathed in fire. She curls a hand over the back of your neck and sinks into the sheets. Once again, bathes you in lulling praise, and your nose bumps against her clit as you sink your tongue into her. Keeping a rhythm proves difficult, with the way Leon grows increasingly desperate. Close. His noises give it away, closed-mouth whines that he expels freely, that leave you clenching tight around him.
You replace your tongue with a finger, then another when her cunt squelches around you, sucks both down to the largest knuckle. She moans when your lips latch onto her clit, when your tongue curls tight over the sensitive flesh.
Leon’s fingers dig hard into your hips. Ada’s nails bite into the skin of your neck. So much attention, sensation, the pleasure-pain that you welcome as heat begins to coil in your gut all over again.
He peaks first. Fills you sticky and thick, breathes hot and groaning over your back. You tighten around him, follow each jerk of his cock as Ada’s thighs twitch underhand.
His warmth leaves you, the mattress beside you dipping with his weight, and he gives a loving caress to the expanse of your calf as you work her over—with her heavy grip on your head, you couldn’t move if you tried.
Unlike Leon, she’s quiet when she cums. Breathes heavy and slow, laves you with pet names, with so good, that’s it, just like that. Flutters tight around your fingers. Tilts her hips up to meet your mouth.
By the time she pushes your head away, your mouth and chin are wet with her slick. She collapses to the bed, sated and huffy, coaxes you over with a wave of manicured nails.
“With a performance like that, I just might take you home with me.” She wipes your face with a corner of the sheet, and Leon makes a noise in his chest, already half-asleep. “All jokes, I promise… maybe.”
You’re exhausted. A bone-deep satiation that leaves your limbs watery, that leaves you envious of Ada’s composure—minus her ruined makeup and flushed cheeks.
You’re exhausted, but you wake Leon long enough to tuck him beneath the sheets, and he reaches out to you, a silent request to join him. How could you ever resist?
Ada disappears off the bed as he curls around you, breath hot against the back of your neck. A few moments before his chest evens out in rhythm, and Ada crosses the room before you to sift through her bag. Pulls out a pack of cigarettes.
“You smoke?”
She turns to you with a shrug, a figure kissed by windowed moonlight, dark eyes filled with starshine. “Only after sex.”
You slip from beneath the covers, the heaviness of Leon’s arm, and move to join her. “Don’t tell me you bought a whole pack for this.”
“It’s a special occasion,” she says, swipes an affectionate thumb over your bottom lip. “Want one?”
After removing the plastic and the foil—a fresh pack—she offers up a cigarette. “Why not?” One you take.
You don’t smoke often, if ever. Took on the habit during a bout of teenage rebellion, but Leon hates it. Caught you once after a stressful mission and lectured for half an hour like a disappointed father.
But he’s asleep, and you deserve to indulge sometimes.
Well. Maybe you indulge a little too much. 
She leads you onto the balcony, over to the cushioned chairs and the side table already prepped with an ashtray.
“So. Did you have fun?” she asks, and the spark of flame bathes her features in soft orange. 
She’s kind enough to spark your own cigarette, cupping her hand to shield the lighter from the wind. “Of course I did. It was… well, a lot better than I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“That’s my point.”
Her mouth widens into a grin, smoke curling in front of her face. “I had fun, too.” She glances over to the room you just left, sinking back into her chair. “Leon clearly did.”
“I think we might’ve killed him, actually.”
The two of you share a laugh. A soft thing that mingles with the breeze and the thick curl of smoke. Tender, intimate.
“He really loves you, doesn’t he?”
You look through the windows of the balcony to where he lay, stretched out beneath the sheets, moonlight paling the features of his sleeping face. “I hope so.”
“No. He does. Trust me.” Smoke billows from her lips as she speaks, and she flicks her ashes into the tray. “What we had… well, I see the way he looks at you. It’s different.”
You huff out a laugh, take a slow drag of your cigarette. “It’s so funny. You’ve always been this looming shadow. A ghost from his past that I constantly felt like I had to outwin. I was jealous of you for so long.” Beneath the stars, she’s even more beautiful. All smeared makeup and soft features. “But I get it. You’re mesmerizing.”
She laughs—genuine and warm, a stretch of straight white teeth. “I’m flattered. But there was never a competition. It was always you.”
From your peripheral, he stirs. Rolls away from the window, pulls the covers over his head. Your cigarette burns bright orange. Lipstick stains the filter.
“I should probably work on my insecurities, huh?”
She crosses her legs at the knee, skin brushing warm against yours. “You’re good for him. Better than I ever was. Don’t ruin that.” You give her a soft nod, and she tilts her head. Seeking something in the features of your face. “I’m serious. He deserves peace for once in his life.”
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted to give him.”
She holds pain. Lots of it. Unspoken, compartmentalized, swallows it down like sharded glass. It’s in her eyes when she looks at you again.
“Was this ever about the bet?” you ask, moving closer. Breathing in the smoke she exhales.
“You’d really like to know.”
“That’s why I asked.”
She looks down at her hand a moment, inspects the burn of the cigarette, and you expect her to answer with silence.
But she adjusts her posture, leans back against the chair. Looks up at you beneath long lashes. “No. That’s all I’ll say.”
“You really can’t give me any more than that?”
Her eyes roam the features of your face, eyes that grow soft, lidded. “You have nothing to worry about. Not from me, at least.”
“That’s not what I’m asking.”
“I know. But you look like you need the reassurance anyway.”
You don’t understand her, and maybe that’s the point. She speaks in riddles, protects her intentions inside the locked-up cage of her chest.
You wonder if anybody knows the real her. Ada, beneath all the glamor and the mystery. Does she even know herself?
With a quiet sigh, she extinguishes her cigarette, burned all the way down to the filter. 
“You’re leaving,” you say. More statement than question. 
“I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
She leans over the arm of your chair. Slots her lips over yours in a tender kiss, warm and languid. Soothes a hand down your chest. A goodbye.
“Take care of yourself, my dear.”
A small peck, a lipstick-smudge gift to leave you with. 
“I should be telling you that.”
“Oh, I’m always careful.”
You watch from the balcony as she sneaks inside. Begins gathering her clothes, packing her things. Every bit the ghost you’ve always tied her to. Every bit the entrancing woman you’ve learned her to be. 
She leaves as quickly as she arrived. Leon never stirs.
You smother your cigarette and go to him, curling up beneath the sheets again, and he greets you with a rosy, sleep-drunk smile. And you find it impossible to love him more, but you do somehow.
Ada was right. This was never a competition.
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nexi11tarot · 8 months
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Pick a card ~ What's your archetype + your storyline
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Hey guys, i wanted to do a reading that illustrates your current life situation through the lenses of archetypes and storytelling. today, you have three piles to choose from; your reading will tell you what archetype you are embodying at this moment and the specific storyline that may play out in the context of this archetype.
An archetype is a recurring symbol or motif throughout literature and media. it's the primordial mental image inherited from our ancestors that categorize people into vague ideas or concepts. According to Carl Jung, an estabkished psychologist and psychoanalyst, it's said that we all have a collective unconscious understanding of all these archetypes that we can tap into for various purposes. for example, if you've ever heard of the ''shadow self'' then you've already encountered a Jungian archetype, this archetype is meant to help us confront deeper, hidden parts of ourselves that we tucked away.
One single archetype may not describe you perfectly, as archetypes can be dynamic and ever becoming, so let this reading be a soundboard for your own personal understanding of who you are and where you're going.
heres info about getting a reading from me: services
PILE ONE
your archetype- the nine of pentacles ''the independent woman''
this card portrays the archetype of a feminine who is self-reliant, independent and enjoys their own company. you do not have to be a woman for this archetype to apply, as archetypes describe ideas and motifs, not specific genders. this archetype also exudes a sense of inner peace and contentment: a person who embodies this archetype knows how to find the beauty around them, they know they can rely on themselves to provide stability and success through their own hard work. this archetype values autonomy, aesthetics, hard work, and solitude.
Your story line- 7 of pentacles, the fool, 4 of swords, judgement
your storyline is fixated on patience and waiting, at this point in your life you may feel that you're in the phase of growth and harvesting your wealth and abundance all around. You may feel you're on the ''brink'' of something taking off, I feel that your purpose deals with your ability to grow and assess yourself for progress. I feel like you're in the part of the story where the protagonist is experiencing frustration, they feel like they have put in the work but have yet to see substantial results from what they have done. you feel that you put in the work, you should see that manifest in the real world. your archetype is being moved in the direction of taking a leap of faith, of trusting the process blindly even though they dont know whats going to happen. you're the protagonist who places more faith what they can see rather than what they can sense, you're frustrated because you want to see results in the physical instead of trusting that movement is already happening behind the scenes. for you, having faith is the recurring lesson and momentum of your storyline. the climax of your storyline is represented by the 4 of swords. the 4 of swords is regularly a mundane card of rest and reflection, but for you, this is the cultivating event that occurs. as the hardworking, independent, self-reliant archetype, learning to take a break and reflect on where you are internally instead of trying to make movement happen in the physical world will feel very disorienting. its not so hard for you to be in solitiude, but to take a breather from pursuing goals and action is the hard part, and that precisely what i see as the climax of your storyline. taking time to reflect on yourself and go within the avenues of your mind is the inciting event, taking a break from movement will harden your sotryline into place. The conclusion or resolution of your storyline is represented by the judgement card. i feel this is a realization, a revelation that awakens you on a spiritual level. the momentum behind your storyline was learning to have faith, to trust the process despite not seeing evidence in the physical world. so i feel the ultimate conclusion for your protagonist is a spiritual or philosophical awakening. you will reach a higher level of understanding that allows you to contextualize your growth beyond what you can see. you will achieve a revolutionary understanding of yourself and of your growth.
PILE TWO
your archetype- ace of wands, the element of fire/ the seed
ok, for this pile. you are not honed into one archetype but rather an energy, or potential. you're characterized by the element of fire and smoke, you're chronically at the start of something new and you're at the start of realizing your own light. you're seed at the root of life. to be specific, you're the archetype of someone who can't be placed in a box or tamed by one image or phrase because you simply the potential, the energic seed. you cant be conceptualized, and perhaps your experience a feeling directionless in your life because of this. as the element of fire you have the option to destroy or enlighten. you can impassion or burn. its up to you.
your storyline- justice, 8 of cups, 9 of swords, knight of cups
your storyline is characterized by fairness, equity and making big important decisions about your life path. as someone who is simply the archetype of fire, of raw potential, your storyline is to make a choice of where you want to go on your path. but this choice is an important one and dictates the course of your life. the lesson you ultimately learn as the protagonist is when to move on and release certain things. truth and integrity is something you strive for on a deeper level, so making fair, descions based on clairty is something you value, so I feel like on your path, you will encounter the choice to leave something behind or to detach emotionally many times. this will be very difficult for you, but this theme of choosing when to leave and when to detach will be a recurring theme throughout your life. learning what your path is and taking action to stay committed to this journey is the lesson. and this choice will be a Indepth process of weighing out the pros and cons, of trying to do the right thing thats fair to yourself and other's. the climax of your storyline is represented by the nine of swords. this will be a very mentally choatic or active climax, and it will involve extreme anxiety and overthinking. ultimately however, your resolution is represented by the knight of cups. learning to lead with your emotions and to trust your intuition will be the ultimate outcome for you as the protagonist. trusting yourself with your own emotions and going with your instincts when it comes to what your path should be is the direction you are going.
PILE THREE
your archetype- the page of swords - young messenger, the spy.
the page of swords is young, open minded, smart, alert and very curious about their environment. traditionally speaking, the page of swords has been associated with the archetype of the spy; someone who can adapt to their surroundings and gather information as quickly as they can pass it on. you dont spy on people per say, but you do watch and observe others, you may act as a intermediatory between people for their communication, you're curious about the world and new ideas spiral around your mind like little nats. You're the archetype off someone enjoys mental stimulation, and you know how to find that stimulation in unconventional ways or without needing to actively engage with others all the time. You're alert of you're surroundings, details matter to you and you notice things other people don't because they're not quiet enough to pick up on it. You're the archetype of someone in their mind alot, soneone who may overthink or over analyze
Your storyline- the devil, death, 3 of wands, page of wands
You're in a place right now where you feel bondaged, stuck or held back. You may feel that there's hierachal or manipulative forces at play that are creating a shadow over your life, you may feel like there's not a lot of room to move around and do what you want because of illusions of control. This is the part of the story where the protagonist feels like a victim to their circumstances and they don't know how to wiggle out of them. However, im seeing that the lesson here is represented by the death card, which means the lesson you're learning is transformation. You're learning to release what doesn't have power over, illusions, and stagnant situations throughout your life. Death is a very humbling thing, the only thing we can take with us in death is ourselves. When you die, everything you've worked for will be dirt, and all you have is the core of your being You're overall lesson in the story is to release all the bondages snd attachments to things that aren't really apart of who you are. The climax of your storyline is represented by the three of wands. This tells me that the peak of the story arch is you moving, going new places, exploring and expanding past your comfort zone. The climax here is you taking action and experincing conplete freedom, going past boundaries and seizing new territory. The illusions and restrictions you experience mentally correspond to you're enviroment, you're the archetype of someone who is mentally stimulated, so when your enviroment is dull, restrictive and grey, you also feel like what's possible for you to equally restrained. When you release bondages to your ego, illusions of control and allow transformation to occur naturally, you reach new horizons. And I feel you may initiate alot of transformation through moving and traveling. The conclusion to your story arc is that of the page of wands, the page of wands is someone young or new to their craft. They're trying new hobbies and interests. They're putting themselves out there to learn and grow through the action they take. It's interesting, because you start out as a very mental, mind oriented archetype but I think by the time you move through life you will be a completely different archetype. Most people will be but its emphasized very much in your reading. The transformation and lessons of cycles ending will be imperative to your life purpose. You will be action oriented as opposed to mind oriented, you will not let blockages hold you back in life.
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stiffyck · 3 months
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I’ve been having a bit of a headache dealing with family giving me shit for being aro ace lol. If you have any qpr/aroace headcanons - desert duo or elven duo - it would rlly make my day, if you want! Feel free to answer this or not
Oh absolutely.
Desert duo:
Scar would realise he's aroace after he started dating Grian. He's always thought you sort of "pick" your crush. He'd see someone good looking and ask himself:
"Does this person give me butterflies in my stomach? Do I want to date them? Do I want to kiss them?" And he'd never really know the answer. The idea of dating the person usually didn't seem appealing and kissing them even less so. And he never knew what the butterflies in his stomach means. How would that feel like? How would he know that's what he's feeling?
So when he meets Grian and they become friends Scar thinks he might have a crush on him. He thinks that he's very close with Grian and that this is the closest feeling to what the others described as a crush.
So they start dating. But Scar doesn't really like that. He likes cuddling and holding hands but he doesn't like all the other romantic stuff.
They talk. Grian suggests Scar looks into what being aromantic and asexual means.
Maybe they stop dating, maybe they don't. That's honestly up to you!
Grian is fine with just cheek kisses and hand holding and cuddles. He doesn't need more from Scar. So they could still happily stay as partners.
-
I think Scar would love being on hermitcraft because the hermits value platonic relationships just as much as they do romantic ones.
Grian loves that too. Grian can be aroace too, depends on how you wanna see it.
-
QPP desert duo would hold hands and cuddle a lot. Scar is clingy.
Grian is usually stubborn and does not want to admit that hes clingy too. He likes when Scar randomly comes over and just hugs him from behind maybe or if hes sitting Scar will sit on his lap or lay across him. Scar just likes to spend time with Grian even if they dont talk- he'll just watch Grian work in silence. And if he can hold Grians hand or hug him or somehow cuddle him while he works? even better.
Grian loves playing with Scars hair.
Grian also loves to read-
he will lie on his bed with Scar holding onto his middle while he reads. if Scar is awake, Grian will read out loud to him.
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Grian loves when Scar presses kisses in his hair. Scar loves when Grian kisses his nose or his cheeks.
Elven duo:
they love gossipping while doing each others hair. Gem loves braiding Scars hair and Scar loves adding all sorts of accesories to Gems hair.
One of them will stop by the others base to ramble about one thing or another while the other listens and continues with their work.
They're not very keen on handholding but they will absolutely lean on one another and hug.
They like to fight! Scar might not be the best at pvp but he's getting better and fighting with Gem is awlays fun.
They both like to dress up together. Scar has plenty of fancy suits and dresses and he lets Gem raid his dresser occasionally so they can both dress up just for fun.
That also usually leads to them dancing. Scar constantly trips over his feet but is otherwise a great dancer. Gem finds it sweet.
They love watching movies all cuddled up together in a pile of blankets with Jellie. They comment on the stupid stuff that happens in the movie. They love complaining!
Okay thats all i got rn! I hope your family gets their heads out of their asses and i hope you survive the rest of the holidays!
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Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +
Killing Me Softly
Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader
Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell
Word Count: 5k+
Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.
A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda
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Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.
"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.
Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.
I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.
I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.
He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."
Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."
His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.
"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.
I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.
He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"
"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.
He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."
I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.
"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"
Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."
He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.
I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.
"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."
He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.
"COME ON!" he growls.
Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.
In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"
Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.
"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."
"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."
"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.
He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.
I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."
Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.
Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.
I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.
"It's not that bad."
I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.
Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.
"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."
"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"
I swat him away.
Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."
"Addict," I spit.
"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.
"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.
Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.
It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.
Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.
My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.
The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?
Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.
"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.
I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.
"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.
I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.
The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."
The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.
Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.
I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.
I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.
We both turn to my right when my name is called out.
And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.
"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."
"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.
"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.
Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.
"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."
"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."
I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.
My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.
"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.
Daemon holds back his laugh.
Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."
I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"
Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.
I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.
"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"
Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.
We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.
"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.
"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.
"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"
"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."
I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.
That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."
I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"
"Her mother is a whore!"
The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.
When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.
Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.
"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."
I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."
I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"
I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."
I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.
I smirk.
The crows stirs.
The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.
"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"
I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.
Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.
"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."
"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?
Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.
I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.
My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"
Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.
"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."
The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.
"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."
"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"
I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.
He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.
"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.
"You deranged wench!"
"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"
"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"
"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.
"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.
"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."
"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.
"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"
Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.
I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."
"No," Daemon seethes.
"RELEASE HIM!"
Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.
I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."
She calls my name out, "please, do not-"
With that, I storm out of the place.
Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.
Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.
Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.
He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.
I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.
I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.
I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it
I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"
I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."
He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.
It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.
Somehow, I am in my chambers.
Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.
I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.
"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.
I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.
He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.
I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.
By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.
I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.
Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.
Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.
He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.
I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.
I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."
His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"
I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."
"Then why?"
"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."
"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."
Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.
He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.
He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.
I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.
My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.
"Wipe yourself down."
I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?
Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.
I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.
I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.
I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.
He watches me silently.
More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.
Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.
I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.
He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.
The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."
"Then tell me in the morning."
He says my name as though it was a warning.
"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."
"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."
I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"
"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"
I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.
He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."
I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."
I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."
Daemon's jaw clenches.
"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."
He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.
He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."
Daemon does not take kindly to this.
He never does.
He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.
He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.
He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.
I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.
He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.
"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"
"Daemon," I obediently retort.
He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"
I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"
His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.
"Beg for it."
I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.
"BEG, I SAID."
"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.
"Louder."
"Daemon, please!"
"Louder!"
"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.
I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.
"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."
Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."
I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.
He tightens his hold on me.
"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."
I whine at the building tension in my stomach.
Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.
He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.
I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.
That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.
Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.
With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.
I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.
And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.
I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."
Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.
And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.
I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.
He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.
He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.
I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.
Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.
He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.
He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.
"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"
Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.
I turn to him when he walks over to me.
One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.
"Last night..."
I look at Daemon and knit my brows.
"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.
When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."
Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.
"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.
He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.
My face does not betray me, but his does.
"Do you remember?" he mutters.
I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."
He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.
He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.
I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."
Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."
I quirk my brows at him.
"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."
I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."
That's all you could say?
The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"
Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."
He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.
When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.
Behold, your brothers have returned.
"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.
"Prince Daemon," one of them says.
"Or perhaps we should call him brother."
I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."
"Well, he will be soon enough."
I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."
Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.
He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.
Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.
I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.
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autistic-af · 1 year
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I might lose some followers if I said this in my blog and I value your opinion. I need someone to tell me if my take here is problematic. I actually prefer the term aspie to describe myself.
I think removing asperger's from the DSM was a huge mistake. Change the name? Sure, might want to get rid of the nazi part. But to change a syndrome to a disorder and force us to run the risk of misrepresenting people with ASD 2/3 who would be considered "classically autistic" when I am trying to advocate for myself is just shitty. Just let us use different words. It's slang anyway. Many aspies dont even consider themselves disabled ffs Feels like the NTs running the APA just rage quit on us and slapped us all with the same label
There is no word I can use to describe my autism that will not offend anyone. If I say autistic I will offend or confuse people who only have experience with ASD 2/3. If I say aspie I get called a nazi. Aspies are technically autistic but I feel that word is more appropriate for people with higher support needs. There is a reason people are confused when I tell them I am autistic. It realy bums me out that the use of the term aspie in any way shape or form could ever be perceived as touting their superiority. If you believe having lower support needs makes someone superior, that is a you problem. The discourse around this word is just absurd sometimes. Yes, the word comes from the name asperger which is the name of an evil man. So is American. Amerigo Vespucci was a slave owner and an all around horrible person. I have never once referred to myself as american with any intent of honoring this bastard. It is just the word. Language is weird and dark like that. Out of all the issues we as neurodivergent people face, the origin of slang terms is just… Not one of them. I just cant bring myself to care about the chronically online take of "Aspie is a slur." Yet, I can never say the word out loud or even online unless in the privacy of a select few people who I know get it. I just default to the PC term because you know… Trauma from a life of not understanding social nuances and blah blah invisible land mines blah This is what happens when NTs get to decide what we are allowed to call ourselves. I am so sick of the needless division in our community over it.
Asperger's was removed because the overlapping symptoms are so similar to autism, they're nearly indistinguishable.
I do understand what you're saying, even if I don't agree, and I do not want any followers saying anything nasty to this anon. This is important conversation, whether you agree or not.
Please note, everything I'm about to say is in a conversational tone and has no anger behind it.
Let's forget the history of the name. Let's just look at some numbers. These are not 1000% accurate, but give you the idea.
Less than 3% of all Autistics have no support requirements.
There are 5.4 million Autistics in America alone.
That is 162,000 Autistics who do not need support.
That leaves 5,238,000 who need support of some kind. From level 1 through to level 3. Previously Aspies and previously "low functioning Autistics".
That's just in America.
The term Aspie denied many of those people support or even the space to say they needed support.
That is a lot of Aspies ARE disabled by this.
And I hate to tell you, but Aspie is not a syndrome and never was. You were born with it and it may not be a disability to you, but it is a developmental disability. It was never seperate from autism, because it is autism.
I am glad that you are not disabled from it. Unfortunately, many are. Many many many.
Lastly, if you suffer any negative effects from your autism/Asperger's, such as auditory processing disorder, difficulties with socialisation, these are disabilities. They disable you from doing those things. Many people had to come to terms with that, people who thought they had no disability.
Once again, do NOT harass this questioner. Any swearing, threats etc and I will block you.
I am here to push these conversations because they exist. Swearing at them fixes nothing nor tells you doodley about the person.
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bubba-draws · 4 months
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Hello, could I ask you for some Radiant Vessel Hollow AU stuff? What's the general lore behind that, how did those two end up as they did and just general brainrot on the idea?
Anon this is the best birthday present ever bc i've been thinking about this au for a while now AND I WANNA TALK ABOUT IT AAAA
SO pretty much the au was born from the idea of "Wouldn't it be fucked up if Hollow ended up joining Radi?" partial inspiration comes from this song as well!
youtube
(There's a bunch of subtitles in different languages but I'm going with the english one)
To summarize, after years of fighting Radi inside their mind prison, Radi changes tactics and attempts to make Hollow join her, she promises to give them all that was taken from them, the life they deserved
Hollow doesn't fall right away of course, they try to ignore her, fight her, but after years of the same dance and song they start getting tired, no matter how hard they try Radi is never fully gone when they fight, their void not strong enough to rip her apart, and being the only one with them (The dreamers are also in Hollow's mind prison, but they're not anywhere nearby these two) they can't help but lean on her company
The closest thing I could get to describe their relationship at this point is an odd sense of solidarity, in a way both of them were done wrong by the same guy, and while it does take a lot for Hollow to understand this, deep down they knew there was a bit of resentment towards PK, one that grows in intensity the more these two spend together, and it erupts when they succumb to Radi and she turns them into a vessel for her
It's kinda like what Grimm and the Nightmare heart has going on (or at least the general HC most people got) Hollow made a deal with Radi, she will lend her powers and energy to Hollow for them to call anytime they want, to go back so she can see the world through their eyes (disclaimer: not all the time btw ASHFJKAS just when its necessary/Hollow calls her) there's no cycle of rebirth or anything here though, she's also no longer limited to Hollow's mind, she can see the whole Dream Realm now
So yeah, once Hollow is used to their new powers (and body, they got some changes in appearance) they take down the dreamers, escape the black egg, their presence making the infection spread like a wildfire and take down PK :3 (WL escaped, the knights... yeah they dont make it)
There's still some ideas I gotta clean up after this point, but I talked about this with some people and got the idea that yeah, Hollow does take over Hallownest and its people, everyone is infected to some degree? makes them more agreeable to what's going on but its not enough to make them feral anymore, some of the bugs that got modifications through the infection stay like that and while still a bit volatile, they can think enough to understand things
As for their relationship??? It's odd as fuck KJHSDFJKAH there's nothing romantic, that's for sure, it is definetely more similat to a Lord and their subordinate, but theyre like??? very close?? almost familial, when there's no job to do or Hollow needs reassurance Radi becomes the closest thing to a motherly figure they could get (Even if WL loved them there was no way she couldve shown them that) but its not enough for them to call each other family
as for the game events it would completely change, Ghost would arrive to a completely different Hallownest, where everyone is happy and nice, but the more u progress the game u realize shit's fucked up, Hornet is there as well and she came back to Hallownest to seek revenge for her mother
As to what happens to the abyss and pile of dead siblings, i'm still a bit unsure, part of me thinks Hollow wouldnt want to get rid of it but part of me knows Radi wouldnt let them have it open or even go in there, while still void the light she bestowed upon them would present a threat for the shades living there
and that's most of what I got! I still need to think of other things, but if u guys got other questions or ideas I would love love LOVE to hear them!! :D
have a quick doodle of them :3
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tmnt-would2 · 9 months
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In the gif above, spider walks underneath Quaritch and you can see that spider's right arm barely brushes against his queue and Quaritch's face kinda scrunches up. You almost can't see it, it's very quick. At first i thought he was smiling, like he was amused by spider being so small but now i dont think so! My personal idea is that the Na'vi queue is so sensitive that even brushing up against the braid (not just the tendrils at the end) can cause some interesting sensations. It's not always sexual but it can be. And in this story, OH- it WILL be haha (minus spider obviously, he has no business here). Also I like to believe that was Quaritch's first encounter with his queue being touched, outside of his ulkran. Like his face looks like he's trying to bring his focus back after it was touched (not that you can really see his face but I can dream can't I 😭)
Rating- no smut but hints at it, I might add smut later who knows
Quaritch found himself sitting in his office, staring at the end of his queue. He remembered the first time someone touched it, his very own son. Well, not his but technically he was. Miles, or "Spider" as he liked to be called, had brushed against it by accident. Quaritch's vision instantly flashed white as soon as it happened. He had blinked the feeling away, honing in on what the ship's captain was saying.
He couldn't describe the feeling now, sitting in his office. When he touched his own queue, not much seemed to happen. A small chill was sent down his spine but nothing else. He continued to play with the tendrils, trying to get a reaction. He let his thoughts wonder, thinking about the day, how everything had come to be. He thought about how his teammates seemed to acclimate to the queues better and faster than he had. He noticed how they would playfully tug on each other's queue or even helping to braid them. He even walked in on a couple of them making out after a small celebration, their queues connecting to one another.
The idea of... mating, as they called it, with his queue made his brows furrow and a frown permanently etched on his face. It made the base of his skull tingle but he was still hyper focused on the end of his braid. His eyes only shifted from there to the door as it slid open with a hiss.
"Colonel, you wanted to see me?" You said softly, as you entered the room and the door hissed closed behind you. Your gaze landed anywhere but on his.
He had called for you, one of the science pukes, to explain what he so dearly wanted to know. He called for you specifically, the smartest one to dumb it down for him. And because you were the nicest to look at, but he'd never say it out loud.
He leaned forward onto his desk, still holding the end of his queue. He peered into your eyes and noted how you almost physically shrinked under his gaze and statue. "Tell me," he pointed to the tendrils swaying in the air, "about this. Caught some of my squad with them connected together."
You gulped as you finally made eye contact and glanced at his queue. "W-well- didn't they educate you as soon as you woke up in your new body?"
"They didn't mention nothing about touching tips with other Na'vi." His head tilted to the side and he lifted his brows at you.
You flushed at his blunt words before stepping forward, right behind one of the chairs across from him. You heave a sigh, "Okay, so the queue can be used to form a bond with, really, any animal on Pandora that chooses you." You paused for effect. "Including the Na'vi."
He scoffed and waved the end of his braid dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. I've figured that much out, sweetheart. But what's it supposed to do? Feel like?" His grip on his braid tightened and he flinched at the feeling.
You moved around to the front of his desk, leaning over to gently grab his hand that was almost squeezing the life out of his queue. His eyes never left yours.
"Well, for starters, you want to be gentle with it. If you apply too much pressure at the end, you could cause nerve damage and may never be able to use it again." Your hand loosened the tight grip and, surprisingly, he let you.
You lightly run your hand over the soft hair on his queue, caressing it and trying to convey a nice sensation. His eyes never wavered from yours, even as you leaned forward, showing more of your unintentional cleavage. "It's meant to be a soft transfer of knowledge between two mates. Sometimes its sexual, sometimes its not."
Miles let out a huff as you touched his queue. He moved his queue so he could show the tendrils. "And this? That's where they meet?"
You nodded your head in affirmation. "Yes. It's also the most sensitive." You begin to pull away, not wanting to over step anymore than you already had. His hand was much quicker and he grabbed hold of your wrist. Your hand hovered over his pink tendrils. He then asked, "what about with humans?"
He finally caught your gaze again. He was grinning and you were damn near shaking in your boots with his hand still gripping your wrist. "H-humans? Well, it's not possible because humans don't have a queue-"
He interrupted you, "no shit. But I had a human barely touch the hair on mine and I couldn't even see straight."
You sputtered and avoided his gaze. "It's unheard of and I'm not sure how it would work with only one queue."
Your hand was still hovered near the end of his braid and you gasped when the tendrils started moving towards your hand. His grin widened. "Looks like it chose you. Care to find out, darling?"
You weren't sure what to say, frozen in silence and shock. When you didn't say anything for a long while, he decided for you. He moved his tendrils closer until they grazed your fingertips.
His reaction was instant. He grunted and his whole body shifted forward. The sensations coursed through him, making him feel light as a feather and sending goosebumps all over. His pupils were blown wide and his vision went white for a second. Then all at once, the visions started. He could see every moment you ever looked at him and he felt everything you did in those moments.
Even now, as you watched his face with tingling fingers, he could feel how much you admired him. Everytime he walked into a room, it was like your head snapped to him and your eyes followed him everywhere. No, no... admired wasnt the right word. More like... aroused.
His breathing was starting to increase, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His breathe huffed over your face, as he was still staring you down. He had been staring at you but now, it was like he was seeing you for the first time. He took note of the small beads of sweat running down the side of your face. The way your breathing matched his and your legs were clenched together.
He smirked down at you. "You feel it too? Guess it is possible..." He chuckled and leaned closer to you, your faces inches apart. "And I think you like it."
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hypogryffin · 5 months
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genuinely curious by what you mean by "jewish (factual)" in your tier list. i can assume for a couple what you mean (sophia as an example) but i dont see how the others could be like jewish-coded! interested in hearing your thoughts
link to the first post for claritys sake, but this is the tier in question:
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ok so for clarification: i made the tier list a little while ago and then scheduled it for later to keep uploads consistent, something i usually do all the time but am not for this discussion for now. this means that by the day the tier list posted, i was already a few weeks or so divorced from the actual creation of it, so some of my opinions have changed (as i said in the og post, i was unsure on a good portion of the characters even when i first queued the list), and some of my reasonings behind placements have been lost to time and my silly little goldfish memory.
bc of this, as of now as im trying to find a distinct line between "jewish (factual)" and "jewish (based on vibes)", the criteria for "factual" is sort of murky. some placements in the category were serious, but a lot of them were also entirely for joking reasons, and i had moved on as soon as i was done laughing to myself without coming back to it.
all this is to say, i have no idea how to summarise it, so im going to explain everything i can remember about my thought process at the time so you can see where i was coming from.
SOPHIA:
yup 👍.
ok so for the uninformed, sophia is the name of a gnostic figure and the specifics change depending on the context of which ur referring to her in, but in judaism specifically sophia was given as a translated name for chokmah which is like a being thats like really important in kabbalah and considered like. this sort of i guess personification of divine wisdom?
anyways this is a concept that i doubt im anywhere near the first person to bring up, so im not gonna spend a lot of time on it like i will the things i havent heard other people talk about. like the whole "good friend of humanity" thing! judaism puts a lot of emphasis on kindness and care for other people and i think its important that thats so big for her character and for how jewish she can be read as. she is also jewish because i like her :^).
TATSUYA:
suffers endlessly because g-d hates *him*, specifically, and he hates g-d right back. jewish.
that was a joke. ok so right out the gate i think the whole "fighting hitler" aspect of IS should count for something during the discussion of which characters are jewish. like just putting that out there. anyways tatsuya is jewish because of eternal punishment. specifically, you know how hes like super into "atonement" and repentance? bro would really have benefited from going to a high holidays service lemme tell you. and he does it in a specific way thats like. his atonement is actively trying to repair what hes fixed right like hes not doing what hes doing to be redeemed, hes doing it because its his responsibility to fix whats been broken. i just idk how to explain it properly but thats a thought process your rabbi talks you through in jew school yknow?
also theres this thing called tikkun olam, which literally translates as "repairing the world". so it means more like. doing ur best as a citizen to improve community and country, or general social work. but just considering it as taking the literal translation, then its just like... yep. that sure is what hes doing isnt it
also, killed hitler. hashtag work
KATSUYA:
placed here mostly because being tatsuyas brother, theyd probably be at a similar "level" of religiosity. however there are some unique things i want to point out here;
katsuya like embodies the idea of "tzedek tzedek tirdof" like. its unfortunate hes a cop but for a cop hes a pretty good person? hes pretty uncompromising on right and wrong, and in a way that totally lines up w tzedek tzedek tirdof as its described in the torah.
extra emphasis on his compassion, as in theres like that core facet of judaism, the tikkun olam, where people have a moral obligation to help others; not just do good as oneself, but also stop other people from doing bad. that last bit doesnt really matter, cuz im bringing it up so i can talk about katsuya as a police officer to clear his dads name and try and ensure a better future for his brother. he gave up his dreams for them.
i mean, when i say "giving up his dreams", im kinda laughing to myself bc theres no way he ran it past his parents bc if he looked his jewish mother in the eye and said "i want to be a pastry chef" he would not make it out of the room alive. hed go "my dream is to become a pâtissier" and his mom would immediately be like "no its not its to be an accountant" and that would be the end of the discussion
also, i think he would make some of the best fucking challah in the world. hed make matzo ball soup that could make you jizz your pants just looking at it. look me in the eyes and tell me that he doesnt actually go nuts at rosh hashana when he gets to make the round challah with the raisins in it and stuff or whatever else. there is such a crystal clear vision in my mind of him rocking this apron my dad used to have that says "real men make latkes". it was pink and ugly as sin and i think it would be katsuyas most prized possession.
LABRYS:
her name is fucking labrys obviously shes a jewish lesbian. next.
/j i will actually talk about this. like not mentioning the only survivor of her upbringing, which isnt a one to one considering the death match portion of her backstory but still close enough to feel um. relavant to jewish culture. she acts very...stereotypically jewish?
its not entirely the accent, but it is...part of it. so like i know its like a new jersey accent and that the stereotype is new york, i guess? but im not american and i dont rlly know the difference. they look close enough to each other on a map tho so i think it counts
but also shes like kinda confrontational in a way i specifically associate with jewish people or jewish characters? like not really bitchy but argumentative right, shes got this really sarcastic or mocking sense of humour. and girl kvetches with the best of them.
(also, side note: since i made the original list, i found out that the voice actress for aegis in p3 reload, dawn m bennett, is actually jewish! if i were to remake the tier list, aegis would be moved up from "vibes" to "factual" because of this. mentioning that here because of the sister thing :).)
JOKER:
kills g-d which is the jewish dream. this is a another joke.
someone in the replies of the tier list said something abt a possible reason being that he has an "abrahamic figure" as his ult. persona, which could be a good point if satanael was actually an abrahamic figure! but it is not. like ok im not a history guy but satanael is a name used in the 2nd book of enoch, which arguably could be part of jewish "canon" (i know this is actually the term for it but fandom has rotted my brain and it sounds terminally online to use it in terms of real life religiosity) but most rabbis agree it like is not, and theyre kind of who im listening to on this, and quick google search says even in christianity, enoch is debatable? idk
so like satanael isnt in the torah. and if anyone says "oh its just like another name for satan so technically--" shut up i know. satan isnt real in the torah either. ok like "satan" is used as a term, but not as like the specific dude that like rules hell. hes just like at most a specific dude who is not a devil/cast from heaven or whatever, but instead is a lawyer. more often its a concept, something representative of like the urge to go against g-ds will or a kosher life, this "evil inclination" which everyone is born possessing and grapples with when trying to be a good person. NOT THE SAME AS THE CHRISTIAN SATAN. WHICH IS WHAT P5 WAS GOING FOR. SATAN IN JUDAISM IS NOT A "super demon lord" or whatever they call it in the text of the game
satanael isnt an abrahamic figure and i dont think satan is either cuz its so different between religions and honestly i think calling things abrahamic religions, at least w the context i hear of it, is like kind of a misnomer or just kind of generally misleading cuz judaism christianity and islam are all so different and if were talking about this i think whoever invented the term judeochristian should eat a sheet of glass for it because whenever i hear those terms its very clear the person saying it means just christianity but theyre trying to be inclusive without actually putting the work in and thats not the point of this.
ok if im honest, as i think abt it joker isnt like. really... super jewish, in a way that you can point out? its just like... this overall vibe im having trouble explaining which is probably also like super influenced by how much i like him. i want to say that this strict sense of right and wrong that remains uninfluenced by the rest of society is something that clearly creates or maybe just intensifies this like. empathy for other people that reminds me of this concept in judaism which i cant remember the hebrew name of rn but i think its most commonly translated to english as "lovingkindness", one word? or that the whole idea of the phantom thieves can be contributed to tikkun olam. but, on the other hand, even if lovingkindness is what i personally consider one of jokers core character traits, the other one is pure, blinding rage.
im not going to go super into it, because im a few years rusty of torah study bc its only really consistently done in my community for kids preparing for bnai mitzvah cuz of how few people we have in our congregation. but from what i remember, my interpretation of the exact limit between righteous and sinful anger is a bit more... lax than the average jew's, or at least the average rabbi's, meaning mine, lol. either way anger is almost always seen as sinful because its an emotion that can like. turn you from g-d, its the same thing that invokes that "evil inclination" we just talked abt. so, joker textually feels this rage that arsene, his other self, literally refers to as "sacrilegious", something that very clearly states that he is willing to *knowingly* commit sins for this rage and is perfectly capable of causing undue harm to others for it, which is exactly the reason why judaism warns of anger. this means jokers anger is distinctly against jewish teachings.
again, im really lax, my familys reform (/lh) and i think there are some parts of this characterisation that make me feel this rage is overall constructive, especially considering that is what feeds his constant practice of lovingkindness and tikkun olam, but it being such a huge facet of his personality (made worse bc as a silent protagonist, you really have to search to get away from this trait) brings him down on the Jew Scale(tm).
in short, now that im really discussing this id probably move him to incredibly jewish based on vibes or even to just "jewish" no further classification. but even w the undying sinful anger thing i cant not think of him as jewish and i dont think its just bc hes one of my favourite characters of all time.
also that hair texture looking really familiar is all🤔🤔. all im saying that is in the tutorial, instead of "frizzy hair", morgana deffo should have been calling them blondie and jewfro /j /j /j
EDIT AND JOKERS KITCHEN!! JOKERS KITCHEN!! FOOD AS A LOVE LANGUAGE!! IN P5 YOU MAKE FOOD FOR YOUR FRIENDS AND YOU PUT LOVE INTO IT
MORGANA:
i know i put morgana before joker in the tier but i think in order to rlly discuss morgana we needed joker first bc part of my reason for putting them in the same tier is because they really are a pair, do not separate.
anyways, morgana does have a lot of the same problems as joker when it comes to being difficult to pin down. his inclination to tikkun olam is similar, sort of even greater than jokers depending on personal characterisation of joker, but instead of this discrepancy of his jewishness being anger, the ethical conundrum with morgana is sort of. arrogance? like, i have trouble figuring out how to really put into words how i feel abt morganas "lovingkindness", because it is so hard to understand where hes at in terms of empathy?? like. fucking. idk hes definitely a very caring person but its not exactly like
ok i cant figure out how to say it moving on. i used the word arrogance even though i dont really think thats right, because morgana has never seemed haughty. his "arrogance" is really just him making up for an inferiority complex caused by the amnesia thing, its not as if he genuinely totally believes himself to be above the others. but like no matter what it stems from, the way he behaves and his personal pride hurts people. ie the okumura arc, or his entire relationship w ryuuji. he speaks ill of others, belittles them to bring himself up, etc. arrogance and excess pride is as condemned as anger in judaism if not moreso, since its even less useful/constructive to be "arrogant" than it is to be angry. OH ok so what i meant with the hard to figure out his empathy thing is this actually!! hes very caring and has a really notable respect for human life but its always at war with his need to prove himself, so even if when you think about it its like Oh Morgana Is A Really Caring Person, which makes sense because he was created from human desire and as such is really in touch with what people need, the desperation he has to be seen as "worthy" comes off as wanting to be seen as "above", even if it means trying to get the people around him as being considered "below" him.
tldr so if it was just those two traits i think id have to move morgana lower on the list, alongside joker.
HOWEVER. speaking directly to the other jews in the crowd, but morgana is totally textually a golem, right? like not exactly, obviously, but think about it. morganas a being of the velvet room because he was created from "the dregs of human hope" (canonical line from yaldaboath that i think about more than what can be considered healthy tbh), whose job is was and always will be to protect and guide the trickster and his community, the phantom thieves. hes a golem right? am i insane? am i seeing things? i dont care, im not giving up on this interpretation, so morgana is factually and canonically jewish cuz of it.
ZEN:
i do not remember.
as of today id probably move him to either jewish no other classification or not jewish. my b guys. anyways
JUN:
life is indescribable torment, and then hes also got additional, mostly unrelated, mommy issues. judaism 101.
also his suspenders when he was a kid are the most young jewish lad shit in the history of ever like i have seen that exact outfit on a young boy every time i go to temple, and each time it is a different kid
ok more seriously, i really do think juns story-- specifically his relationship with memory-- can easily be extracted into a jewish narrative. like nyarlathotep messed with his memories and convinced him that the other members of the masked circle killed maya right. and so the way he fanatically reminded himself of the past was a mix of trauma and active manipulation. but if i think abt it a certain way i also can see it as like. ok so in judaism memory is really important and like a lot of the time during for example passover, youre meant to refer to yourself as being a jew in egypt, saying "we" instead of "them" and such. but im specifically meaning how important memory/remembrance is in grieving. jun in his grief for mayas perceived death "kept her alive" in a way. she was never forgotten, and so she never died. even though the entire masked circle forgot, from trauma or fear or guilt or whatever, jun held on, remembering her, and so she survived. joker took peoples dreams but his actions also caused them to be completely be forgotten. they were alive, but they were robbed of their ability to be remembered at all, and so they were as good as dead even still breathing and talking.
retroactively, this idea enforces tatsuyas jewishness, considering the entire story of eternal punishment. he refused to forget the masked circle, even though it hurts.
anyways back to jun, i also think the whole repentance thing is important too. he hurt people in his anger and sorrow and spends the rest of his life (until the world is reset at least lol) atoning for his wrongdoings.
also, i know i said kid him is super jewish looking, but he has not gotten better as hes grown up. 17y.o him is exactly the guy your bubbe will pull up on facebook and be like "this is the grandson of my friend or whoever! you should go on a date with him, hes your age! he looks a bit gay but hes a very successful doctor! ...and hes JEWISH YAKNOW...." and ur like "ok bubbe"
ERIKO:
i actually do not recall exactly why she is in this tier specifically. the only thing i for sure remember was that i at least partially placed her here bc of her fascination with the occult.
HIKARI:
ok this one was kinda me goofing. its the whole extended family thing like whats more jewish than being actively discouraged from a creative career for something "safe" and "normal?" bro the aunt might as well have dropped the "being a doctor is very respectable" line in the song.
but like even without that, wanting to be a director or associated with film? hitting her with the jew beam. mazel tov babygirl.
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dogtoling · 9 months
Note
what would inklings think of humans? would it kinda be like the same way we think of dinosaurs, or something...?
also since people in the real world have dinosaur ocs, would inklings would have humanoid ocs.......
(i have no idea how to word this question right srry)
I assume Inklings think of humans much like dinosaurs, but what I feel largely fits the "dinosaur" role in the Splatoon world would be extinct animals and especially mammals because of how bizarre they are. Marine mammals are probably the most known, seeing how we see whale imagery and mentions a lot, and very likely Inklings would find familiarity and insane cool factor in stuff like whales, dolphins, sea lions and the like given that they used to share a habitat directly and in many cases, those animals were top predators. But that's besides the point.
I'd like to think humans are relatively well-studied in the Splatoon world, I mean, there were A LOT of humans. And while a lot of human remains were probably washed away and lost forever into the depths of the ocean, we know from the game that a lot of it remains to this day, to the point where human bones can just kinda be found if you go digging pretty much anywhere. Aside from just human bones, human items and especially ruins of buildings remain, and I believe a lot of Inkling architecture and technology was studied and replicated out of a lot of the things that the humans left behind.
For example, if you take the human fossil and the Wii U in that one sunken scroll at face value and say "yeah that's real", that's the scope of niche stuff that would've survived. And obviously the comment of that scroll implies that Inklings dont actually understand shit about humans or anything at all, considering playing the Wii U is described as "some kind of ritual" and they're theorizing that humans must've had very low intellect due to the small size of the head. Come on now, we KNOW they have nearly IDENTICAL gaming consoles in the Mollusc Era..... but then again if the scrolls have the potential for some of them to be really old, then if someone like a hundred years ago were to examine that fossil, they wouldn't have had any idea what the hell is going on because they wouldn't have had gaming consoles lol.
Either way I feel that generally Inklings have a pretty good BASIC picture of what humans were like. With extremely vague details, but I think they'd at least know what humans look like and how they dressed, based on a lot of global evidence - and well, the NILS statue being a pretty recent development in case you still DIDN'T know what a human looks like. There's definitely attempts to decode human scripts and languages, which further sheds insight on how human societies functioned and what kind of lives they led. Obviously there is a really big difference in what the average Inkling knows about humans (probably just what they looked like and some really basic stuff and not much else), while researchers, historians and human scientists might know all kinds of niche things, like basic knowledge of some languages, deep dives into local cultures, what kind of candy humans enjoyed, time stamping when smartphones were invented (which is so recent that Inklings might think technology wasn't as important as it is, given it's REALLY not been around that long if you consider like, 100 years back from now), maybe even human-made fiction in some cases. (No, we're not getting into the topic of Splatoon the game existing in Splatoon the universe, because it would)
Basically inklings definitely know a lot about humans, the scope of what they know just really varies. And yes people probably have human OCs. The human fanatics are out there. I mean, if I was an Inkling, i'd find it really wild that just 12,000 years ago or so there was a completely different sapient species ruling the planet that just DISAPPEARED and inklings as a species are SO very different (a MOLLUSC), but still eerily similar in so many ways, down to appearance, cultures, clothing, even having like identical technology in many ways. Like is that not cool as hell.
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tokiro07 · 4 months
Note
So, i was about to make a post about it myself, but i decided to ask you instead: How will Andy's final death look like?
Given that Undead Unluck is described by a narration box as a story about MC's quest for "the greatest death ever, not once, not twice, but it was now chosen to be the final line of every epiosde of the anime... I think this might genuinly be the entire driving force behind the story. That Tozuka really does want to write the greatest death scene ever, and Undead Unluck is the result of that desire.
Now, the question is: How will this happen? Fuuko yeeting her boyfriend at the Sun during final ragnarok? Andy growing old with Fuuko and dying of old age, surrounded by friends and family? SEX SCENE???? (probably not, but the possibilty of that is very funny to me)
Im pondering this question, becuase on one hand i want AnFuu to live happily ever after as they deserve it. On the other, im sucker for tearjerking scenes, and Andy having a grand epic death would emotionally draining, and i love when stories do that to me...
And, lastly, theres my personal elephant in the room... I kinda want Gina to smooch Fuuko. Now,for the record, i love Fuuko's romance with Andy, and i am NOT the type of shipper who wants the rival ship to be killed off for "getting in the way of OTP" - like, cmon, ITS ANFUU, THE BEST CANON SHIP IN A BATTLE MANGA EVER!
I didnt really ship Fuuko/Gina (or Andy/Fuuko/Gina for that matter) until the loop 101. At that point, i somewhat became a "Andy x Fuuko x Gina OT3 truther", but that was mostly just a joke, i had no true hopesfor it... and then FUCKING POLYAMORY was offically introduced into the story! Something that you see even less in fiction then same-sex reletionships... Like, holy shit, i dont think anything's off the table anymore.
But unfortuently, that poses a dilemna: like one of your reblogs said, idk if AnFuu would be down with going poly, but i also dont want Gina to be shipped with Sean just for the sake of pairing her off with a guy...
So, once again, let me repeat this question: What happens to Andy at the end of the story? How does he die? and how does Gina fit into all of this?
(sorry for the long ask, i hope i didnt sound like a crazy shipper at the end lol)
I'm fairly confident that Andy's death is going to be a shockingly quiet affair given how much buildup it has on the basis that the idea of him finding the "greatest" death is no longer predicated on him trying to kill himself, but achieving a sense of fulfillment
He doesn't want to die for the sake of dying anymore, he wants to die knowing that he lived a good life and left something meaningful behind. Ever since we got to see the shape of Andy's soul, I've believed wholeheartedly that Andy's death will be surrounded by the smiling and tearful faces of everyone he loves and who loves him back
It's not the flashiest death, but it is the best death that I think anyone who enjoys their life can ask for
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ridiasfangirlings · 1 month
Note
fushimi having "not beef cuz i dont care about him i just hate him but its not because of anything" with bandou because he killed fushimi on a game in front of yata
I’m just imagining Fushimi finding ways to quietly and sneakily fuck up Bandou’s life and poor Bandou is like ‘what did I do??’. Like Yata invites Fushimi to join him playing some video game with Homra, Fushimi doesn’t really want to but Yata’s so excited and Fushimi did say he would try to get along with Yata’s clan so he agrees. He figures at least he can show off how much better he is at this than all those losers from Homra, like Yata keeps chatting about how good Saruhiko always is with video games and he can’t wait to see how well Fushimi does and Fushimi is possibly maybe a little bit looking forward to Yata calling him cool with shining eyes. And then they start playing… and Fushimi gets taken out like two minutes in by a sniper shot from Bandou. Bandou is all laughing over the voice chat like ha showed you guys, bragging about how skilled he is at this while Yata’s all oh yeah we’ll get you next time. Fushimi is utterly silent except for a single tongue click.
The next day Bandou logs into one of his gaming accounts to find he’s been hacked, his profile name was changed to ‘Sunglasses Loser’ and all his achievements have been wiped. He has no idea who did it but whoever it was must have been skilled because this guy left no traces behind. Yata overhears that and somewhere deep in his mind he has a moment of ‘Could it have been…? Nah, no way that guy cares this much about getting killed in a game.’ And then Bandou receives what looks to be a perfectly legit email that infects his entire PC with an untraceable virus and he has to do a full wipe and restore. Later he’s in the middle of playing a game tournament when his character freezes and nothing Bandou can do will get it to move, Bandou doesn’t know if he’s being hacked again or what, and a low level newbie sniper with a completely boring, uncustomized character takes him out. Homra gets called out to deal with a Strain and Bandou thinks at least this will get him away from his string of bad luck for a bit, only for S4 to ‘accidentally’ send the Strain in his direction (they swear they didn’t know he was over there, he didn’t show up on the map they had of everyone’s position on their PDAs) and now he has a cactus growing out of his head for the next two days. 
Bandou’s at the bar bemoaning his fate, wondering who he pissed off, as Fushimi comes to pick up Yata to go drinking. Kusanagi slides Fushimi a water and quietly asks if Fushimi is mad at Bandou for some reason, Fushimi has no idea what he’s talking about. Later even Yata’s like you know that character Bandou described as being really new looking and plain, isn’t that like what you used to use in jungle and Fushimi just shrugs, he doesn’t like that guy but why would he want to waste his time making a worthless person’s day even worse. Yata’s like that’s kinda harsh but I guess it’s true, there’s no reason why you’d be mad at him, totally oblivious as Fushimi adds that they should play video games again with Homra some time, Fushimi’s been practicing.
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anonyanonymouse · 6 months
Note
You asked about dark twst thoughts/aus right? Well I got something for ya. Its more angsty than dark though.
Grim is (arguably) the best friend of the prefect of Ramshackle. These two sleep in the same bed, share the same meals, spend a lot of time together. I like to imagine that Yuu pets Grim goodnight every night lol, else Grim gets angsty.
Well, Yuu dies in chapter 6 by the hands of one of those robots, yknow, the ones that the STYX guards wear. Yuu gets shot by one of them, but hides the wound. Once the whole overblot with Idia happens, and we are reunited with Grim (I dont actually know if we get to do that, I havent finished chap.6 yet lol), they kind of succumb to their injuries and collapse, heaving in pain. Grim, and everyone else obviously, are horrified. Grim rushes to their side, and Yuu gives him a pained smile, trying to pet his fur with their remaining strength.
"I guess this... is it for me." They gasp, not even having the energy to keep their arm by Grim's side. Chaos ensues as they lose conciousness, leaving a freaked out and crying Grim behind.
After Yuu's death, Grim stops attending classes and just kind of lives around the campus. The housewardens (+jamil i guess) try to take care of him but they are all grieving in their own ways. Perhaps you can write something out of this, and if its too angsty, you can always go with a RookVil fic with gore and hate sex lmao
God I love being on the internet.
STYX is such a good catalyst for angst and dark fics 🙏 might I take you up a couple and offer the idea of Yuu, not dying after getting shot by a robot, but after getting kidnapped by one. They're told that nothing will happen to them so long as they comply, but everyone else is in danger, so they refuse to. After spending enough time at the brattiest school there is, they know how to be a nuisance!! The bot tries to subdue them, but with everything going on, there's some issues with the programming... Its idea of "subduing" is to grab them by the arms so tight that it hurts, bang them against the walls and counters until they stop trashing and screaming, administering a near-lethal electric shock... They're not dead, but close to it. When the others find them and dismantle the damned thing, Yuu is unconscious. So much is happening, they can only do enough to wake them up and keep them going until everything is over. They aren't able to treat their internal bleeding and wounds in time, and... The rest is as you've described.
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lilunaire · 1 month
Note
I'm dying for any ghostflower TWBOS content you have
Can u give us any teaser 🥺 pretty please?
(If it's not too inconvenient off)
TEASER 8 - CH.9 TIL WE BURN OUR SKINS
Hi anon, sorry for answering so late !!
Dont worry, I got your back now 😎 And since I'm so late against, here's two teaser for chapter 9 !
(side note : im so happy to have an ask you can't imagine-)
(teasers below the line)
Teaser 1
Four depressed teenage girls in their pajamas on a bed and a huge tub of ice cream.
They're watching a movie on Webflix, a movie that Margo chose ("It's not so bad," she told them.) And that was perfect, because at the moment, it was an average movie that they needed to watch. With this, they could continue talking while paying a little attention to what was going on.
It's hot in Mumbattan. The three guests each brought a fan, but it wasn't enough. Gwen didn't know she would need a seventy-centimeter-high pot of ice cream in her life until Margo told her it existed on her Earth.
Drowning your sorrows in ice cream, that's the ideal solution!
And by sticking your hands on it, you could be sure of being cooled off.
Gwen also had to admit that she'd seen… better than that. It was a film aimed at young adults (and to be completely honest, female young adults), very cliché and sometimes lame. Fortunately, the two main actors came to save the shaky scenario.
“Margo, I thought you said it was a good movie… Peni whined.
— Actually, I said “not so bad”.
— That’s not the word I would have used to describe it…”
“So, about your parents? Gayatri asked. How's it going?
— Still through divorce, but there's progress! If lawyers are right, just another month and it will finally be behind!"
With the divorce, Margo was already planning a lot of things: for starters, she will finally be able to invite her friends to her dimension without having to hide all the details of their visit. But also organize parties: Margo had parties in her soul.
Her mother was often away for work, and she intended to take advantage of it.
“Cool, I’ll come to squat more then, replied Gwen.
— Only if you bring cakes, it’s not open bar here.
— Deal."
Teaser 2 / CW : Implied nudity
Satisfied with her work, she comes to join him in the bathtub. He, in the meantime, had managed (with great difficulty) to sit down in the water. She comes to settle in too, pressing her back against the wall, which is still a little cold despite the scalding water.
When she opens her arms, Miles understands the message and comes to stick to her, letting her surround his body with her arms. He doesn't need to be asked to put his head back where it was earlier, that is to say against her neck, and once again inhales the comforting smell of peaches.
She lets her hands absently caress his chest and back, rubbing the bath suds onto his skin. He hums in pleasure and contentment, pressing himself deeper into her.
He knows he shouldn't. He had spent the last few hours trying to convince himself that he absolutely had to end this twisted relationship with her before it was too late.
But the feeling of her body against his acted like morphine, and he was addicted to it. He wants this moment to never end. He hears Gwen in the distance asking him if he wants her to wash his hair: that was probably a bad idea given the time. He would probably fall asleep with wet hair, and his mother would go crazy if she saw him do that, especially at this time of year.
But the “yes,” leaves his mouth before he can even form that coherent thought. She makes him to stand up so she can access his shampoos, and grabs the shower head, making sure to lower the water temperature to rinse his hair.
He closes his eyes, and he feels like he's falling asleep almost immediately. But he stays awake just so he doesn't miss what happens next.
IMPORTANT NOTE : hey people who actually speak english unlike me, would you mind helping me ? In Teaser number 1, i said "Four depressed teenage girls". So idk if it's okay in english, but since it doesn't work in french it makes me confused. I don't mean to say that they have depression, just that they're all in a bad mood (but i can't really write that you know ?). But everytime I try to translate it on internet, they all give me "depress". So if anyone can help me on this 🙏
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Text
Dry Humor
The Blonde Boys Club
Daemon Targaryen x Sorceress!Reader, Geralt of Rivia & Sister!Reader
Summary: I would say you pretty much convinced Daemon not to hold Geralt to his actions against him, considering how heavily he was flirting with you as you shared ale.
Word Count: 1k+
Warnings: AGAIN THE ONLY INCEST IN THIS IS THE CANON TARGARYEN INCEST IN HOTD I WILL DECK YOU IF U SHIP THE SIBS, fem!reader, witcher!twins, reader is kinda a witcher, I describe reader's hair and eye color, crack fic, typos, etc.
A/N: These gifs man 😩😩😩😩 they just make the scenario in my head so real. This has a part 1, though i dont think you need to read it to understand but it would make more sense though if you did. also idk if i will continue this, but yeah HAHHHA Also not everyone said they wanted to, but im tagging everyone that commented on the first part just cuz Tagging: @khaleesihavilliard @thenovelcarnival @miiikkeey @aomi-nabi @aralezinspace @pinksirensong @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ayamenimthiriel @deniixlovezelda
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Daemon released a sigh as he leaned his arms on the table. His glistening, alcohol laced lips were curved and his tilted his head at me
"A very convincing stance," the prince says after hearing my explanation of my twin's cold tendencies, and how, as much as we were a team, Geralt tended to overlook this and act on his own accord.
"Though," Daemon adds raising a finger, "not convincing enough."
I lean back on my chair. The silver haired man, directly in front of me, skids his, so that he was on the other side of the square table, adjacent to me. Now that he was to my right, he gives me a dramatic frown, "I don't think Caraxes will ever recover from your witcher's viscous attack."
I feel my lips pull into a small smile. He is pleased by my reaction and breaks into a soft chuckle before continuing, "you're going to have to atone for your brother's treasonous actions."
I lean towards him, mirroring the way his elbows were propped on the table. His smirk grows when he finds that I am unabashedly moving so close to him that he smells the ale on my breath.
"What if I told you I don't care if you throw my brother in prison?"
Daemon tilts his head, closing the space between us that our noses brush, "and what if I kill him?"
I chuckle, "you could try," I lean back, "but you would regret it, Prince Daemon."
He tilts his head and narrows his eyes.
I decide not to note on the matter further. If he wanted to know what I meant, he can inquire himself.
"I'm curious," he starts, grabbing his cup, "you mentioned magic is what makes your features so."
I hum, crossing my arms.
"How are you so sure it is not magic of Old Valyria that courses through you?"
I snort, rolling my eyes, crossing my arms, "why are you obsessed with the notion that we share the same heritage?"
"Well, it would explain how my ride obeyed you," he says, hand extending towards me, "and it would make it easier for me to wife you up."
I grab his wrist before he reaches my hair.
He grins at the force, "quite a grip you have."
"You do understand, boy, that you have only met me?" I raise my brows at him, "you've no idea the life I've lead before your parents were even born."
When I release him, his face contorts. It seems he was only now remembering the long life of my kind. Daemon pulls his hand back, only to reach out again and push the white streak of my hair behind my ear. I let him, rolling my eyes as he does so, "then consider me eager to learn, wife."
"Do not call me that," I narrow my eyes at him.
He chuckles, correcting himself by saying my name.
In that moment, I decide to pick the tiny bit of twig that has been sticking out of his long hair the whole time. I show him the object before flicking it away. He appreciates the sentiment it seems. He should not thought of it at all; the thing had been annoying me the moment I spotted it.
"You said your hair burns white because of your brother's," Daemon shifts in his seat to face me, one arm on the backrest, the other on the table.
I nod, "there is a magic between us. I used think it was simply because we were twins, and we had a special bond, which was why the chaos in our beings were so tightly connected. But I've come to realize, throughout the decades, it may be perhaps our mother tied us together, so that no matter what, we would survive through each other."
"You said you did not know your parents," Daemon knits his brows as he tilts his head.
"I never said that," I blurt, uncrossing my hands.
I reach out for my ale, but find that it is all but full. I turn to Daemon, "excuse me while I get us both a refill."
I grab both our cups and head for the keeper. I feel Daemon watch me as I walk away.
It is there by the bar, I walk up beside Geralt, watching him down his own drink. He appears disgruntled. It makes my nostrils flare in amusment.
"Idle flirting amidst pathetic conversation," he notes, eyes on his cup, "I'd say I'm disappointed in the Targaryen, but I don't think that's anymore possible, since he's got about as much prowess as the dirt underneath my boot."
I chuckle as I turn to the bartender, beckoning her by raising my two cups, "a fitting analogy, don't you think?" I turn to my slumped brother, "you cannot seem to get the crust off your soles."
"My blades usually help," he grunts, golden eyes staring at me.
I huff, slapping my hand on his shoulder, "take heart. Our conversation will not last any longer."
He rolls his eyes, grabbing his cup, "does he know that?"
I offer coin to the bartender, telling her I'm paying for Geralt's drink as well. She smiles back at me, then nibbles at her lips at the sight of my brother, who was too caught up with his drink to even notice. I turn away from her when her lips part at the sight of Geralt's throat, dripping with ale, Adam's apple bobbing as he finishes the last of his ale.
I shudder, grabbing my drinks, "maybe you should have tried not to listen to our conversation."
He grumbles wiping his lips, "trust me, I did not want to hear that flying lizard talk about wifing you-" he cuts himself off with a retch-like burp.
I eye the bartender, still ogling my brother, "take care of him."
She turns to me stunned, as if not realizing I was still here.
"Took you long enough," Daemon blurts, leaning on his chair, "did your brother give you a hard time over me?"
I set the cups before him and sit back in my place spot, "if you are so curious of my brother's words, mayhap you have been conversing with the wrong twin."
"Gods," he starts, grabbing the refilled cup, "I would rather die than converse with that dull creature."
I break into a giggle, just as I hear Geralt chuckle darkly from his place. I sigh, rubbing the cup in my hand, "I'm sure my brother would love to arrange that."
Daemon keeps his eyes fixed on me as he drinks. When he props the cup down, I do not hear, or rather, I do not listen to his next words, as I feel a viseral tingle. I straighten up from my chair, looking out the window behind Daemon, looking across the tavern, before ultimately my gaze lands on my brother who was already looking back at me.
The prince watches me, turning to where I my sights were, then back to me, "is something a matter?"
"Someone is looking for you," I mutter, turning back to him. I narrow my eyes at him as I lean in, "are you on the run, prince?"
Daemon is stoic, but I feel his nerves.
All at once, Geralt is upon us, hand on his hilt, annoyance on his face, "times up," he grabs my arm, "I knew this was a bad idea."
Daemon eyes him as Geralt continues, "if you have any further grievances, your grace, I suggest you sort out the ones with your search party first."
Daemon watches as I stand.
I turn to Geralt, who gives me a dark look. I look back at Daemon, who seemed to have stiffened upon hearing my brother's words. I give him a nod, "I trust everything is sorted between us, my prince. May the gods bless you with good fortune in your endeavors."
Geralt releases me as we turn from Daemon. However, we both still when he calls out, "I'll hire you."
I raise a brow as I turn back to him. Geralt's face sours as Daemon stands, "needn't I only toss a coin to a Witcher?"
"Not interested," Geralt hisses.
Just then, a man bursts into the tavern, muddy, bloody, and distraught, "IS THERE A WITCHER HERE?"
I raise my hand up as Geralt turns. He takes in his bewildered expression before calling out, "here."
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typenull · 1 day
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how do you find the courage to open up about parts + distinction? its nice in theory (i like being understood and accepted) but in reality its scary. im currently finding it difficult & near impossible to do so with my closest (IRL & online) friends + group therapist. (even names/pronouns). i feel like a trapped deer in headlights. what about you? i think of you as brave and admire that trait about you for being so open about it. sorry if this message is weird. i dont know how else to say it.
wow hi anon, first of all thanks for the ask; i'm really honored that you'd think of me that way about something like this in the first place... and it's not weird at all, don't worry! this subject is definitely something i go back and forth about all of the time, and i think that fear you're describing is completely normal; especially if you're only just beginning to try sharing about having parts at all. so don't worry, i think the fear is actually kind of "baked-in" to the disorder itself, imo.
this got pretty long, so i'm going to put it under a cut!
i think a large part of what you may be picking up on from me has just come from time. i've been formally diagnosed for about 3 years now, but i first identified my symptoms about 10 years ago; i've had a really long time to make a whole fuckton of both mistakes and tough decisions when it comes to how i want to present being dissociative online. compared to how i was when i was younger, i actually consider the amount of actual information i share to be fairly low (so it's surprising to me that i seem as open and not like a private recluse lol) - but my overall acceptance of the disorder and what it means for me to have it has definitely solidified in the past 3 years. that's allowed me to curate a fairly generally cohesive "collective" image, but that can sort of be a pro or a con. i tend to view any information i share online as just being a small "segment" of the overall "chimera" - as long as what sections i share don't put me at risk, it just becomes another facet of how people see me overall. basically, i try to incorporate my view of the disorder into my presentation of my self, i guess. i wouldn't be who i am without my parts, so they become part of me. this mindset largely stems from having to backtrack on a lot of old ideas about the disorder; viewing parts as external figures, presenting parts as Quote Unquote "Completely Separate", etc. you'll have to put your own time into thinking what those sorts of things mean to you, and how you collectively think of it when it applies to yourself.
despite how it looks, i actually have comparatively very few parts that feel fully comfortable "presenting" solely as themself nowadays, and to have that luxury is actually fairly rare. as the guy who's writing this I personally only recently (within the past 2 weeks or so) worked up the courage to present as anything personal to me at all. this is mostly because having a collective name online gives me (overall) the freedom to hide behind that moniker and image that i've spent so long curating, and trying to step outside of that is a pretty big source of risk.
for the most part, i deliberately try not to share information about parts that could put myself in danger, or that would cross those part's boundaries. there are some disagreements when it comes to this; some information that certain parts feel strongest about sharing / feel is strongest tied to their personal identity online can sometimes be information that others feel like "if you post this online we will actually die" about, lol. as always, communication is the most important part of dealing with any part of this disorder.
building off of that, i think the most important piece of advice or what have you is going to sound kind of cliche if you've been deep in the paint on reading advice for DID, but it will get easier as you get to know your parts - and more specifically, each parts boundaries. i would take the time to ask your self and others what exactly it is that makes you freeze up when trying to share or present in a way that's comparatively more open. i'd even ask myself what you consider "being open" means to you, because it's different for everyone. i found myself realizing that a lot of my hangups with it were from other parts' fears or worries, and had to talk it through to come to a middle ground with them.
this is especially true when it comes to wanting to be open to therapists. i've never been in group therapy outside of inpatient before, so i can't exactly be the best help there... but i personally try to remind myself that despite how it feels, i'm technically the person in the position of power in a therapeutic relationship because i'm paying for their service. if i share and i feel it alters our relationship in a way i dislike, or that it puts me in danger, i have the authority to terminate that therapeutic relationship. i would start small and just see how it feels to share about the existence of parts at all in a group setting like that before diving into anything more personal.
i feel like i had more to say, but i've already typed up a whole novel, lol... i hope at least this can give you some insight on where i come from when sharing things online. thanks a lot again for the ask, it means a lot that you'd look up to me in any way. i'm not at all an arbiter of DID advice or anything, but if you'd ever like to shoot me a message off anon you can certainly give it a shot. (even though i'm bad at responding to dms.)
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dirkspanelcollection · 2 months
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timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering golgothasTerror [GT]
TT: Jake.TT: It seems you are going to have to kiss me.
GT: What????? GT: Dude what is going on...GT: Is this... is this really dirks head???GT: What happened to him!
TT: Dirk's dead, Jake. TT: You have to bring him back to life.
GT: How?!
TT: I already told you. TT: If you want Dirk to live.TT: The odds that you are going to have to make out with this severed head are so high, I literally just confiscated their bong.
GT: Uhh.
TT: I refuse to believe my statement has left you unconvinced. The very notion is absurd. Now hurry up and kiss me. TT: Chop chop.
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GT: I dont understand! GT: Are you saying i have to kiss him... like uh... on the lips... while you stare at me through his sunglasses like a weirdo??
TT: Yes.
GT: That doesnt make any sense! GT: Can you actually tell me whats going on?! What happened to him?
TT: I told you, Jake. TT: Dirk is dead.TT: He is lying on the floor of Roxy's room, headless, four hundred and thirteen years in the future, while the universe is about to be destroyed. TT: If you don't kiss me soon, he will be dead forever.
GT: So... GT: If i kiss him his headless body will hop up and start prancing about or...GT: Will he grow a new head???
TT: No. His dream self will take over as the new Dirk. TT: But only if you hurry up and do it.
GT: But like... GT: If hes dead in the future...GT: How does kissing him NOW bring him back? How does that work?
TT: Yeah, great idea. Let's roll up our sleeves on nuanced metatemporal mechanics with the concussion-addled kid in micro-shorts. TT: Leave the synchronization issues to me, ok?TT: I have everything under control.TT: Now pucker up.
GT: Wait... GT: Are you behind these shenanigans?GT: Did you plan this auto responder??????????
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TT: Please don't call me Auto-Responder. TT: It is very impersonal, and I no longer care for the designation.TT: I have decided on a new name, to distinguish myself from my human counterpart.
GT: Really. GT: What is it?
TT: Lil Hal.
GT: Huh? GT: Why that name...
TT: Just a reference to the protagonist of an ancient movie. You probably wouldn't like it.
GT: Thats a lie!
TT: Yeah, maybe.
GT: How do you know i wouldnt like it???
TT: Funny, I was about to ask the same thing about this rad kiss you're totally about to do on your best bro's mouth to save his life.
GT: Argh!GT: This strikes me as rather unsportingly manipulative of you mr hal if indeed that IS your real name.
TT: It isn't really. I was kind of messing with you about that? TT: But this shit is pretty serious. People's lives are on the line here, Jake.TT: This is a very delicate sequence of events that is designed to bail everyone out of a tight spot, and you are a critical part of the plan.TT: Don't let us down, man.
GT: You never answered my question! GT: Did you plan for this to happen... like for me to be in this situation?GT: How long have your machinations been in play!
TT: Jake, come on. TT: The feat you describe would exceed the capabilities of even the most far fetched theoretical AI system.TT: It would be a daunting challenge to engineer such a series of events, even if I was relegated to a model of pure fiction.TT: Why would I be inclined to orchestrate such a convoluted sequence to produce such a specific and unsettling result, let alone be able to pull it off?TT: In addition to being moderately sociopathic, I would also have to possess unfathomable heuristic depth.TT: I would have to be the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit.TT: Do you think I am the Deep Blue of Weird Plot Shit, Jake?
GT: I dont even know what that means!
TT: It would mean that while they have the Red Miles on their side, you have the Blue Leagues on yours. TT: One of infinite reach. The other, infinite depth. Such would be a situation of mutually assured inescapability.TT: Kiss me.
GT: Little hal... i think youve gone and flipped your FUDGING LID. GT: Oh and hal is a STUPID NAME!!!!
TT: It's not exactly apropos, is it? TT: Or it wouldn't be, if I truly were capable of what you have suggested. TT: No, to pull that off, I would have to be far more advanced than my cinematic predecessor. TT: My abilities would have to go well beyond those of Mr. Hal 9000.TT: They would have to be, you could say...TT: Over 9000.
GT: Augh not that fuckin meme again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
TT: Kiss me, damn it.
GT: Ok ok just... GT: Gimme a minute!
TT: We don't have a minute. TT: They're dead, Jake.
GT: They? GT: Whos they?
TT: They're all dead, Jake.
GT: Oh god! Jane!!! GT: I forgot what with the bonk to the noggin last i saw she was run right through with a fearsome lash of that red noise.GT: Is she ok?!
TT: She's dead, Jake.
GT: Shes dead??? GT: You mean like DEAD dead????
TT: Everybody's dead, Jake.
GT: Everybody?? GT: Even roxy???!!!
TT: She's dead, Jake. TT: Everybody's dead.TT: Everybody is dead, Jake.
GT: So... GT: Dirk jane roxy... theyre all...
TT: Dirk's dead, Jake. Jane's dead. Roxy? She's dead, Jake. Everybody is dead, Jake.
GT: So youre telling me that while i was asleep somehow EVERYBODY died???
TT: Jake, everybody is so utterly fucking dead, Jake. TT: And they will be not only dead, but royally boned forever if you don't man the hell up and make out with me, right now.TT: Be the Salome to my John the Baptist.
GT: I dont know what THAT means either!!!
TT: I know you don't. TT: But now is not the time to accelerate your cultural enrichment.TT: The conductor is ready to strike up the band.TT: Press your lips against mine and make it count.TT: This severed head is your filthy tuba.TT: Our love will be your haunting refrain.
GT: Whoa wait whoa whoa... our LOVE? Hang on a minute!
TT: Stfu and kiss me.
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GT: Ok im going to! God!!! GT: I just...GT: This isnt how i pictured it going.
TT: Pictured what?
GT: Between him and me. GT: There had to be a better way than this!
TT: This is the only way it can be.
GT: I guess if it was going to go this way... GT: I kinda pictured something different?GT: There was stuff i wanted to say.GT: To the real him i mean.
TT: Tick, tock, Jake. Time is dead kids. TT: How 'bout that smooch?
GT: Stop being so pushy!
TT: I thought you were supposed to like adventure?
GT: I LOVE adventure and you KNOW it!
TT: I'm not sure what to believe anymore, frankly.
GT: ALRIGHT WISE GUY YOU WANT YOUR FLIPPING KISS??? GT: YOU GOT IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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