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heikablackstern · 2 years

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One Misstep is all it Takes

This is is a short draft related to fnaf that I wrote up since the fandom has dragged me back down, specifically Security Breach and a… *coughs* Daycare Attendant.

Honestly if it wasn’t for @bamsara and their Solar Lunacy fic, I don’t think I’d be drowning in Sun/Moon content. So if that’s something you wanna join me in, go check out their story and blog! (They’re incredibly talented and I love their work)

Anyway… enjoy some Moon shenanigans! (Didn’t beta read it so god speed)

You were getting rather tired of this sick game Moon so desperately loved to play with you and your legs were beginning to cramp up from being pressed so closely to your torso. You were stuck just outside Fazer Blast stuck underneath the massive shining moon that gave off a light blueish glow to match the rest of the decor. Moon was circling around the entire light where the light met the darkness, keeping a close eye on your movements. If you tried fleeing to the other side, Moon would already be there. So needless to say you were currently trapped underneath this moon hiding from the animatronic Moon. You have been working at the Pizzaplex as a security guard for a month now, getting acquainted with all the animatronics… specifically Sun and his counterpart Moon.

They were two sides of the same coin. Where one faltered the other succeeded in. Sun had a bubbly personality that filled you with laughter and smiles whereas Moon remained more stand-offish, keeping you at a distance while cracking a sarcastic joke here and there. You enjoyed both of their company but you never appreciated it when Moon decided to start chasing you as if you were a meal rather than a decent human being. At first, you knew that the animatronic was trying to kill you. His eyes had shrunk into tiny red pupils, his teeth somehow looked sharp, and his aggression was far worse than Monty’s. But you overcame that and somehow still agreed to, not only be their friend but continue working there. (You couldn’t pass the hourly pay, it was extremely generous—and now you knew why).

You: Moooooooon *you whine* Can’t you be nice to me for one night?

The animatronic chuckles lowly at you from behind, forcing you to crane your neck back to get a better look at him. It takes you a moment to realize that his head is rotated upside down so that he can look at you properly, his body twisted to a strange angle that no normal human could accomplish. The sight is a tad bit unnerving, catching his mismatched eyes narrowing with glee. One eye was red while the other was white and you knew if you got close enough he would be smiling devilishly at your predicament. He tried earlier to grab your ankle and yank you out from your hiding place but Sun had nearly popped out in his place… which is why your legs were pressed closely to your stomach and being smushed against you at the moon that hung from the ceiling.

Moon: Time’s almost out *he taunts, smiling growing wider and sharper*

You give him a confused look, head tilting (with him copying your movements), only for your eyes to go wide in realization. You look down at your wrist to check the time on your watch and your heart sinks to the floor upon realization. The Pizzaplex, every hour on the hour, would reroute the power from the lights to the charging stations lurking around the entire building for the animatronics to use. It was poor design but cheaper for the company to do rather than waste additional money keeping them both going like they did throughout the day. But you knew it would screw you over in eight minutes (being 1:52 in the morning) because the gigantic ball of light above you would go out soon, leaving you with no protection and within Moon’s grasp. Based on his playful demeanor and eyes you knew he wasn’t going to hurt you, he really just wanted to mess with you. Two weeks prior Moon even admitted it to you, exclaiming how fun it was to have you around and watch you squirm from fear. Albeit it was a bit mean that he knew your were afraid but he really meant no harm. Of course… you did have something that would buy you a bit of time if you timed things right.

Now you had six minutes left.

You cock your head back to shoot him another glare but he’s no longer there. In fact, you can’t spot him anywhere. He’s not circling around the brightened moon waiting for you to escape so you can only assume he’s hiding up above in the beams. Seems like he has his own plan when the lights go out. That was fine, you could play along—you did have a plan of your own after all. You cautiously and quietly begin scooting yourself out from underneath the moon and move towards the edges of it. Every time you hear a sound, whether it’s the building settling or what you swear to be Moon, you freeze and wait again. By the time you get into a comfortable position there’s only a minute left and no sign of the animatronic. Now it’s beginning to freak you out. But you didn’t have time to spot Moon, your eyes focused on the watch while you kept a firm hand to your side where your flashlight was. There had been far too many incidents where Moon (and sometimes Sun) had taken your flashlight without you noticing. By the time you have you’d be in Moon’s clutches being dragged further into the darkness. But now that you had the flashlight as your last line of protection, you weren’t entirely sure what your plan was. The power wouldn’t come back on for an entire hour and you know there’s no way you can last that long.

Your watch begins counting down the seconds, your palms begin to feel clammy.

The only plan you could potentially come up with would be to hide in a closed off space that only had one entrance and once exit. Somewhere that would be extremely cramped for both you and the animatronic. You knew Moon would use the wire to his advantage which is why you needed to eliminate that and even out the playing field (of course, Moon would argue that the flashlight wasn’t fair either but you didn’t really care). Now where could you find a space like that? Ironically, the Daycare—the play structures to be exact. You could make it. It was a straight shot from you were currently stuck, you could even see the large letters that spelled out “Daycare” mocking you.

Your watch beeps, the lights are cut, but you never take your eyes off the sign. You wait for a beat or two for movement and when you hear nothing, you take off into a dead sprint towards the Daycare. The flashlight remains off and at your side because you’re hoping you can catch Moon by surprise. When you hear a faint jingle of bells from above, you dive to the right and barely avoid Moon. You dare to look over your shoulder and let out a breathless laugh at his unamused expression. Yet something feels off. His entire posture has gone stiff yet his smile continues to grow the further you get away from him. He realizes exactly where you’re going. The wire comes down and hooks around his back but he doesn’t actively try to catch you this time… simply trailing behind you. When you reach an alternative entrance to the Daycare, by Kids Cove, you realize why he was smiling with glee.

There’s a metal gate starting to descend from above which will not only corner you in an open space but also lock you out from the Daycare entirely. You hear Moon chuckle again, getting closer this time. You pick up the pace until your legs begin to burn and your heart is hammering wildly against your chest. You will NOT get caught this easily, you refuse. Moon is now right on your tail and, out of a moment of quick desperation, you shine the flashlight right in his face. He makes a hiss and covers his face, groaning what sounds like pain. For a minute you feel bad until he looks back up at you, eyes narrowed into dangerous slits—a smile no longer there. The gate is nearly closed when you get a few feet from it, as is Moon. You do the only sensible thing, before Moon has the opportunity to grab you, and slid underneath the metal grate before it had the chance to drop right on top of you. You were mildly impressed that you managed to slide on your side into the Daycare before Moon had the opportunity to grab the back of your shirt and yank you back. He, of course, bashed into the grate with a shout—making you jump. But you couldn’t help but swell with pride.

You: Ha! *you cheer* You thought you could catch lil’ bitch boy! Who’s laughing now?!? *there was another loud bang against the metal, leaving a faint dent* I’m laughing you smiling fuck!!! Ha ha!

You knew Moon was warning you about your language and behavior, swearing was not allowed in the Daycare and you knew you’d pay for it later if and when he caught you. But for now, you were at the advantage. It didn’t take long for you to sprint through the theater and enter the Daycare, pushing the wooden door pen before quickly closing it again. There were only two ways for Moon to get into the place; either by slide or using the door. Either way you were certain you’d hear him come into the play area one way or another. So you trudged up one of the slides and started maneuvering through the playground before settling in a decent spot. You choose to be somewhere between high and low, knowing Moon would check somewhere high first before actively navigating through the playground. Your spot had one entrance and exit that Moon would be able to fit through and an exit you could manage to squeeze yourself through if he managed to find you.

So you remained cramped once more as you waited for Moon to arrive. You kept your breathing quiet and eyes vigilant for any signs of movement. There were no sounds of bells ringing nor the sound of mechanical gears whirring with each step Sun or Moon would take. Yet you refused to move because you knew how Moon would play these games.

And then you heard the low chuckle and a red light peaking into the playground. You clasp a hand over your mouth as you quietly watch the animatronic crawl underneath you and vanish further into the structure. But you refused to move, knowing any signs of movement would immediately draw Moon’s attention and that was the last thing you (currently) wanted.

Moon: Brat *he hums, in a haunting singy tone* Are we playing hide and seek? *of course you don’t answer him* Naughty brat, you’ll be punished when I find you~!

His voice and soft footsteps become more and more quiet, moving further away from you and allowing you to properly relax and sigh in relief. And that was your first mistake. You didn’t take into consideration that Moon could actually grab you through one of the small holes you were using as an escape route to actually grab you. When a large blue hand grasps your ankle and yanks you, hard, a sudden scream erupts from your throat. You clutch to the wall for dear life and try to kick the hand off with your free leg but another hand grabs at it, giving it a hard yank. You lock your arm around one of the small openings and cling to it for dear life, using the other to try and shine the light at Moon.

You: Let go!!!! *you screech*

Moon: Naughty Brat! *he seethes* You must be punished!

He gives another yank and you get dragged through the structure with a yelp. There is no time to grab ahold of anything and the flashlight you were holding onto slips from your grasp (only because you wanted to hold onto the wall and get away from Moon). You catch a wide smile on Moon’s face along with two reddened eyes as he drags you through the structure. There’s no time for you to catch your bearings as his arms slither around your torso and keep you tightly pressed against his body. The wire descends from the ceiling above and hooks onto his back, pulling the two of you into the air. You try breaking out of his hold but the moment your feet leave the floor you cling to him for dear life. A sudden jolt of terror sweeps through you as you wrap yourself around Moon. You feel the robot still under your scared reaction as he quickly readjusts his grip to hold you more securely, wanting you to feel more safe in the air. You’re not in the air long as Moon drops the two of you on top of the play structure nearly three stories off the ground. For a moment you wonder if kids have managed to climb to the very top but you know Sun well enough that he keeps tabs on all the children at all times. When Moon gently places you back on your feet, you fall to the ground and keep your hands firmly pressed against the plush covered beams to ground yourself. You can’t stomach looking up at Moon, your body frozen on the ground. This was fine, you were fine. You were technically on the ground, no longer in the air, but it begged the question as to how would you get down? Moon wanted to punish you (even though he was beginning to feel bad though he wouldn’t admit it) so you knew asking him to take you back down wouldn’t work.

You: You win! *you force a laugh out* You win you win you win!

So you slowly start to crawl to the edge of the structure, your stomach dropping when you accidentally look down at the ground. It felt like the floor was getting further and further away from you the longer you stared. You were expecting Moon to mock you, make fun of you, or pull you back from the ledge but he did neither of those things and instead watched your movements out of, what seemed to be, curiosity. You turn your body around, facing towards Moon as you wildly search for something to plant your foot on, testing to see if it can bear your weight. When you’re confident it can, you begin your descent.

You: This is fine… this is totally fine. I’m just… several feet off the ground… getting back down slowly and carefully…

You’re still towards the top when you hear Moon walk towards the ledge you’re descending on. Moon could still grab you if he wanted but he doesn’t, remaining quiet and watching you leave. His eyes begin to shift from their normal red to a hybrid of red and white as you shoot him a frown.

You: Y’know for an animatronic that knows children’s fears and things they dislike, you have no problem ignoring mine! *you were a bit bitter about the circumstances but you had every right to be*

Moon: Didn’t know *he states, your frown deepens*

You: Didn’t know? Didn’t know?!?! I TOLD you the first time you tried grabbing me from the ground the first week you and I had met! Did you conveniently forget or you were not—!

In your small fit of rage, you had been waving an arm around in exasperation to get your point across. But your entire body was beyond anxious of the circumstances, your hands had gone clammy and slipped, your legs buckling under the sudden shock. A scream doesn’t even leave your throat as you await to hit the ground with a hard splat. Your eyes are wide in shock as you watch Moon, for a brief moment, get further and further away. But the wind is knocked from your chest when a hand manages to grab the front of your shirt by the collar. Your hands fly up to grab his wrist to hold on but it’s getting incredibly hard to breath with the cloth tightening around the neck.

You: Don’t let me go! *you force out, breathing heavily as you search Moon’s face for any signs of trickery that he will, in fact, let you fall. Instead he looks more afraid for you than anything, his eyes now completely white… huh… that’s new…*

Moon: Won’t. Get up.

You: I-I can’t…!

Moon: Get. Up. *his voice sounds more urgent than threatening and you try to do as he says. When you find some footing along the wall of the structure and begin to try and climb back up, Moon yanks you up completely—wrapping you up in a hug. You take deep breathes and cling to him for dear life, hiding your face is chest as he starts rubbing circles on your back to calm your nerves.*

You: Thank you *you mumble*

Moon: Sorry

You: You… didn’t know, right? *Moon nods* Then you have nothing to be sorry for. Just… don’t do it again? Or give me a warning next time.

Moon: Do you want to go down now?

You: N-now? *your voice squeaks. Moon can’t help but grin a little (it was adorable and Sun was absolutely screaming in his head all sorts of cute nicknames. If they were a person, they’d be red from embarrassment by now)*

Moon: We don’t have to now, when you’re ready. *You give him a nod but refuse to let him go as he continues running circles on your back*

The two of you remain on top of the playground for most of the shift with Moon pulling you both down to the floor of the structure, holding you in his arms. Your heartbeat is finally beginning to slow down and your breathing seems to be relaxing, which was a good sign—you weren’t so scared anymore. Yet the animatronic quickly figures out why as you begin to lightly snore against his chest. The entire experience must’ve worn you out. He can’t help but chuckle as he quietly rearranges you in his arms and stands up, the wire hooking down on his back. Moon moves carefully (as Sun absolutely gushes at the sight) as he flies the two of you to him and Sun’s bedroom above the ball pit. He keeps you in his arms as a faint lullaby begins to fill the entire Daycare, keeping you in a blissful sleep for the rest of your shift.

#fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #fnaf fandom #fnaf #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf y/n #fnaf sb #sun x reader #moon x reader #x reader #fnaf eclipse #sundrop #moondrop

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jerzwriter · 2 years

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Hey Elsa, I understand that things are a bit too crazy right now and that we all need some time to cool off. First off, I am very sorry about the Anon-hate right now and I hope things cool down for a little while.

But at the same time, I personally believe that it isn’t okay to fade out people’s opinions. I understand that certain words were said and some people were hurt by them, but as I see it, I didn’t find anything hateful about it. The whole “using of tropes” thing, with Ethan and MC living their posh life, is not necessarily a bad thing at all. I found it to be a mere observation rather than something completely hateful. It is absolutely okay to use certain plot devices in writing. Heck, if you were to take a couple of movies and try to analyse them, you’d find so many repetitive plot points and yet, they’re all wildly successful.

Supporting writers is important, but it is important to acknowledge that it is the internet. Things are going to be a bit difficult. There will be tears, opinions, laughter and others. While it is completely important - and I agree - that writers have it hard, it is worth noting that there will be different perceptions too. Not everyone would find Ethan and MC endearing. Not everyone enjoys Happily Ever After endings. But at the very same time, there are people who love them. That’s, unfortunately, the internet and its workings.

This is in no mean a “hate comment”. You’re doing your part in keeping this fandom alive. But I just hope all of this doesn’t contribute to many talented people leaving the fandom because they believe their opinions won’t be respected and will be shot-down.

I am sharing this one solely because you are respectful and expressing your opinions in a polite manner, the exact same way I did when I responded to the message yesterday. Again, since you are responding in a polite respectful way I will politely and respectfully ask you to point out where I ever said other points of you are not accepted or welcome. Because I have not I have not ever and I will not ever. So please do NOT twist my words.

I have had people who are outright Ethan haters, who don’t give a shit if Ethan is with MC, OC, or drops dead tomorrow. In fact, they would prefer that last option. I am friends with people like that, and they have reached out to me to say, "Damn, that post was fucked up." Because it was.

It could have said I don’t agree with portraying it in this way without dragging graphic details of other people's characterizations into it. I almost want to take that post and twist it around, so it describes other versions of Ethan and MC or an OC. Then I will say I hope this version isn’t coming from a place of anger and sadness, and I hope they get the help they need. Do you know what? I’m sure people whose characters I describe would be pissed… and rightfully so. You sincerely don’t find that insulting? Please.

For the 300th time, you can defend your position, which I will always respect, without minimizing and insulting others. Is this so hard to understand?

I had no intention of discussing it publicly; I did discuss it privately. Because I KNEW people would get hurt, and because I didn’t want Emily to get the hate that I have gotten for… wait for it…. having a different POV than others. But at the end of the day, after getting numerous messages from numerous people in the fandom who were very hurt, something had to be said. Sorry, but in real life and online, if I see people hurt and I can say or do something, I will. And no one and nothing is ever gonna change that.

And you’re right. I have worked my ass off to try to keep this fandom going. Not only for OH but for all Choices fandoms. But I am seriously reconsidering doing that going forward. Why should I? I think I’m going back to creating for myself and for the people who want to engage with my work. I honestly don’t know why I care about this entire fandom anymore. It’s probably been a waste of my time and energy.

#fandom stuff #fandom bs #just about done

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kim-ruzek · 3 years

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Girl Crush

Summary: This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

Or; at the end of 3x23, Sylvie doesn't go home with Roman-- but instead with Kim. And gets the fucking she deserves.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut. This is just my excuse to give Sylvie the orgasm she deserves and the one she clearly did not get with Ratman. And so there's also Roman bashing bc Roman is trash.

Word Count: 4.5k

Read on AO3

Notes: For @gilbxrt-blythe bc Abby started™ something in my mind on Sunday, thus leading me to writing this all yesterday bc,,, our girls deserve so much better than Sean Roman and this fandom needs more wlw content. Let's save our darling girls!!

Someone’s hooking up tonight.

Chili’s words go around in Sylvie’s head all night. Largely, she ignores them—or rather, tries to—just focusing on the beer she’s sipping faster than usual and the joyous atmosphere in the bar but there’s those moments it creeps into her thoughts.

Her PIC is right about one thing, the thing she said about volcanoes. The firehouse has been so tense of late and she can tell that a weight has been lifted off them, and Sylvie thinks that’s quite like a volcano. But she—perhaps, stubbornly—refuses to admit Chili might be right about the hooking up part.

If anyone was to know Sylvie’s thoughts, know that she’s trying, more vehemently that she should, to deny that, they question why. To which Sylvie would just claim that it’s because she hates gossiping about her co-workers, people who are her friends are family, and that she doesn’t like speculating on their sex lives.

Sylvie even tried to insist this to herself, not that it works. How can it when she can feel her toes curl slightly at the thought of just... Throwing everything to the wind and just enjoying some pure, unadulterated primal ecstasy. That she finds herself subconsciously looking around the bar, as if she’s trying to find a suitable candidate.

She has always felt the weight of her friends’ turmoil so heavily. Empathetic to the core, her father said, when he grinned at her becoming a paramedic, telling her it’s what she was born to do. She likes it, she does. She likes caring about those important to her, to care about anyone who’s a decent human—and even those who aren’t—but it gets tiring, feeling the weight of their unhappiness on her shoulders.

It’s not even like she was directly wrapped up in the drama going around in the house, but it was so intense—a volcano getting ready to burst. And something tells her that she won’t be able to shake it off with just getting drunk amongst her friends.

“Hey, Brett,” Sylvie looks to her left, seeing Sean Roman slip into the seat beside her. The paramedic smiles at him, ever polite, turning so she’s more face on to him. He was close to her before she shifted, and she thought that would be annoying, if he wanted to converse.

Only, Sylvie quickly gets that he doesn’t have talking on mind.

The patrol officer is quick to close the space between them again, shifting himself and resting a hand on the back edge of her seat. She could get away if she wanted, but it gives off a certain trapped vibe, a vibe that shows exactly the kind of intentions Roman has.

There’s a twist of uncomfortableness in her stomach. Roman is sort of attractive, she guesses, although she doesn’t know if she’d fully trust her taste in men yet; there being too many wrongly stacked choices compared to the right. But even if he was the hottest specimen she had ever seen, there’s something off putting about his approach, leaving her with the impression he doesn’t want her to move away from him.

But there’s that volcano inside her, wanting to explode, and the alcohol is already coursing through her veins, so despite the sober parts of her brain metaphorically screwing up its nose at the officer, Sylvie doesn’t attempt to move again, instead leaning on her arm, interested in whatever he has to say.

“I’ve got a few more interesting stories like that, if you want to hear more?” Roman smiles hungrily at her, his eyes making her feel like a piece of meat. He had just finished telling her an amusing story from patrol and she gets the impression that’s his hook, and that now he’s trying to reel her in.

“The bar’s a bit loud, though. So we should go back to mine,” There it is, the beginning of the reel. He’s looking hopeful at her, and there’s an attempt to look appealing, sexy. It doesn’t work, but Sylvie finds herself shrugging, thinking that she could do a lot worse that Sean Roman.

“Hey, Sylvie. Roman.” Before she can agree, Kim appears, seemingly out of nowhere.

The brunette is on the other side of her, her arm lightly touching her as she greets them. In a way, Kim is affectively penning Sylvie in like her partner did, but it doesn’t make her stomach twist in that same uncomfortable way. There’s some meaning to that, she knows, but she doesn’t bother to reflect on what.

“Hey, Burgess.” Roman seems irked. He’s looking at her rather rudely, and Sylvie doesn’t like that. She cares about her friends and Kim is one of her first Chicago friends who doesn’t work with her. So she grins at her a little wider then she already would, wrapping her arms around the other officer.

“Hey, Kim!” If Roman picks up on the pointedness in Sylvie’s tone, he doesn’t let on.

“Hi,” Kim smiles at her again, repeating a greeting before continuing and Sylvie must be a little more tipsy than she thought because her mind is immediately drawn to how pretty Kim looks when she smiles. “Chili had to leave early and asked me if I could drive you home instead. She said sorry, but there was a cute guy who she needed to know a bit better,”

Sylvie knows instantly that Kim is lying. Chili asked no such thing, considering she wanted to get absolutely wasted tonight and had no intention of driving herself home, let alone Sylvie. This lie is an anchor, a get out of jail card, a bailout. For who, she doesn’t know—doesn’t think that she’s too drunk to need it, but she takes it anyway.

“Oh, she promised she wouldn’t!” Sylvie goes along with the lie Kim has spun. “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you,”

“Eh. It’s no problem.” Kim shrugs her off with a wave of a hand.

“I was actually about to leave myself. I can take Brett, you can just relax. That way I can continue telling her some patrol stories,” Roman inserts himself back in the conversation but Kim has no patience for him.

“We’re partners, I can tell her the stories. C’mon, Sylvie, let’s go.” Kim gently encourages Sylvie up. There’s a disappointment at not being able to expend all this tension away, but girl code is more important, and girl code is telling her to go with Kim.

“We have to walk around the block—I don’t actually have my car, so we’ll have to call a taxi.” Kim tells her when they leave Molly’s, arms linked. Neither of them are anything more than tipsy, but Sylvie finds herself giggling at her words.

“Then why did you drag me out? Was a guy bothering you?” She asks.

“Oh, trust me, I did that for you. You’d regret that so much tomorrow. The guy’s my partner and all, but he... I was on patrol with his ex. Going there—that wouldn’t give you any sort of satisfaction.” Kim explains, and Sylvie widens her eyes, giggling again.

“Really?” The irony of Sylvie spending the evening denying that she cares about gossip saying this, leaning in with intrigue, is not lost on her.

“Jenn didn’t say anything outright but... I asked why she got engaged so quickly and she expressed that he—her fiancé—is very talented with his tongue, if you get what I mean. I inferred the rest. A man who won’t eat out his girl is not a man worth your time.” Kim says very manner of fact, and Sylvie laughs at it, the brunette joining in shortly after.

“It’s the truth!” Kim insists through her laughter. They’ve walked around the corner, now, Kim quickly dialling for a taxi through her laughs.

“My ex fiancé never did.” Sylvie confesses when their laughter died down. Kim lifts an eyebrow.

“Never?”

“Never. He said it was disgusting. Didn’t stop him wanting me to suck him, though.” Sylvie can’t help the bitter edge to her words, thinking about Harrison and thinking about how she could waste her time on him. Kim, evidently, thinks the same.

“Life is too short for those kinds of men.” Kim says. Her words are assured, confident, just a statement and Sylvie just hums in response, thinking that Kim probably never wasted years like she did.

“Hey, Sylvie. I don’t mean that like... You deserve so much better.” Kim picks up on her sudden drop of mood. “I don’t know why we lower ourselves for arses like that, but you deserve so much better. Better than people like Harrison and Roman.”

“So do you—if your exes never..?” Sylvie quickly adds on and Kim lets out a snort.

“Oh yeah. I’ve dated my fair share of arseholes.” She nods. “I don’t know why they’re like this. You’re so pretty, I don’t know how anyone could want to fuck you and not completely worship you.”

This time, Sylvie does not laugh at the bluntness of Kim’s words, instead blushing a fierce shade of pink. She was only half looking at Kim when she said those words, but now Sylvie looks at the other woman more directly. She is greeted by Kim looking at her—although, maybe staring would be more accurate. It’s an intense look, a look her friend has never given her before, a look that says that maybe Kim doesn’t want to be just her friend tonight.

It deepens Sylvie’s blush.

The air between them immediately shifts, and it feels almost so natural, Sylvie finds herself questioning whether the air always felt this thick and charged. The air is heavy, and there’s this certain kind of electricity between them; an electric energy of sorts that reminds her of when she was eighteen and her friends and her caught a ride into the nearest big town and snuck into the club—and of Sylvie waiting outside for her friends after and sharing her first—and only—kiss with a girl.

“That’s cos we’re women, though? We know what we want.” Sylvie tries to push all those thoughts aside.

Tries to ignore what she feels building in the air—because surely, it’s just in her mind? Just because she was thinking about throwing caution to the wind and having a night of passionate, explosive sex—and tries to not focus on how pretty Kim looks, how she looks like she’s the best and worst decision she could ever make wrapped up in one.

On how Kim is looking at her with such intense eyes, almost hungry eyes, eyes that says she wants to be one of those men.

“That’s not just why. I wouldn’t just eat you out until you come screaming because I’m a woman, I’d do it because I want to make you come undone at my doing—like you deserve.” Kim’s words sends pulsating throbs through her body, and she can feel herself getting turned on, her body feeling like Kim has just found the secret code to her with just her words. Sylvie stares at Kim, with shock.

“You... I... What?” Sylvie splutters, unsure of what exactly Kim is saying.

“I’m just saying. You’re hot, Brett. I can see why Roman tried.” There’s a pause. “I’m not trying to ruin our friendship. Tell me if I’m wrong, that I’m not picking up on some things and I’ll shut up and just get you home. But if I’m right, I’ll fuck you right.”

“I...” Sylvie is facing Kim dead on, now, the space between them feeling like too much, electric and heavy. It’s dark, the only light being the street lamp. But it catches the side of Kim’s face, lighting it up in such a pretty way and it stirs something deep and primal inside her.

The dark, positively hungry eyes Kim is looking at her with doesn’t help, either. It’s not like earlier, with Roman, it doesn’t make her feel like a piece of meat. It makes her feel like she’s the world’s most precious delicacy and that Kim would give her left arm just to get a taste.

“You’re right.” The words are barely out of her mouth when Kim is closing the space between them. One of her arms slips around the blonde’s waist, pulling her flush to her, the other gently resting on the bend of Sylvie’s neck as she kisses her.

Kim’s lips are soft, her touch gentle. The kiss starts off slow, although Sylvie wouldn’t have thought it with the way her body immediately responds, aching and her heart beating. But then Kim deepens the kiss, encouraging her mouth to open wider, slipping in her tongue. Sylvie responds eagerly, her arms wrapping around Kim, practically grabbing hold of her so she can return the kiss more fiercely.

If this was a preview into the abilities of Kim’s tongue, Sylvie doesn’t think that she’ll have to work her long before—to use Kim’s words—Sylvie’s coming undone at her doing.

When the taxi arrives, honking it’s horn on the two, busy kissing each other like they’re the only people in the world, the alcohol running through their veins and their and respective tiring days edging them on, making them so filled with want for this, they pull apart, out of breath, chest heaving.

They share smiles, little light-hearted giggles as they pull apart, climbing into the taxi. Kim opens the door, grabbing at Sylvie’s hand as she does so before moving swiftly out the way so she can climb in first.

They don’t make out in the taxi. They’re not even jammed up too close together, their bodies just turned towards each other. They are close enough for them to still have their hands interlocked, although it’s more like their arms at places and for their feet to lightly tap at the other’s, playing a footsy kind of game but they’re friends, they shared a taxi before, they’ve even had this ease of physical contact before.

Sylvie would almost wouldn’t be able to tell that the line between friends and lovers had been blurred for tonight, if it wasn’t for the electric energy between them, from how Sylvie’s just waiting until they can get back to hers, and how whenever Kim moves her fingers up and down her arm, gently running against her skin, it feels like little shocks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to yours,” Kim says as Sylvie leads her up the stairs. They’re deviating between holding hands and not, joking around as they make their way. Sometimes Kim’s spinning ahead of her, their hands dropping from their grip, and sometimes Sylvie is.

“We have only known each other a year and we have busy jobs.” Sylvie points out. Kim sticks out her tongue playfully and Sylvie has to stop herself from capturing it, and kissing Kim again. “This is me.”

Sylvie goes in first, opening her front door and placing her keys in her pot. Kim follows, and Sylvie watches as the brunette kicks off her shoes immediately, shrugging off her coat. For someone who’s never been here before, Kim fills the air with a confidence and it only fuels Sylvie’s need, her own confidence as the volcano erupts.

With a swift kick, Sylvie shuts her door and then her hands are on Kim, pulling her close. She grabs her hand, stopping her from moving further away from her, pulling her to her and capturing her lips in a kiss.

“Hm,” Kim moans against her, kissing her with a casual, yet urgent force. The melodic hum is tinted in amusement, and she pulls away briefly, to Sylvie’s disappointment. “So, we’re going straight to this? Aren’t even going to ask if I want a beer?”

Her words are said in an amused tone, but Sylvie still finds herself blushing, cursing herself slightly.

“Oh. Right. Sorry. Do you—” She’s interrupted by Kim kissing her.

“You’re so easy to tease. Don’t worry, I don’t want anything to drink. Eat, maybe.” Sylvie goes to panic again but then she sees the glint sparkling away in her eye and she blushes, getting the play on words.

“Hm, well there’s only one thing on the menu if you’re,” she pauses, “Hungry,”

Sylvie could swear that Kim licks her lips but then the brunette is kissing her again and all thoughts go out of her head, the only thing on her mind being the taste of Kim and getting her to her bedroom as soon as she can.

Neither of them are determined to disconnect from one another for long, not even in the interest in getting to her bed unscathed from injuries. Kim hits into the sofa and Sylvie nearly trips over something she left on the floor, but the two stay touching, kissing each other hungrily and needily.

Sylvie would love to say that she savoured the moment Kim took off her top, but any clothes removed is done hastily, urgently, the clothes feeling too much, too intrusive. All Sylvie can do is give Kim a quick, appreciative look over after she tosses off her top.

Although, she thinks, that could do more with that Kim then helps her get her top off, and rewards her with her lips on her neck immediately after.

“There,” Sylvie manages to gasp out, pointing at which door is her bedroom’s, as Kim pushes her up against her wall, attacking her neck, nipping and sucking at the flesh. She’s going to have a mark there tomorrow, but tonight, tonight she doesn’t care, just tilting her head aside for her to have more access, her hands just grabbing at Kim as she does so.

Despite the urgency to get this far into her apartment, Kim has apparently decided they don’t need to finish the stretch right now, focusing on kissing along her collarbone, back up along her neck and jawline, stealing kisses from her lips before heading back down. She doesn’t go too far down with her kisses, but it’s enough to send Sylvie’s mind haywire, especially when she brushes along with her teeth.

All Sylvie can do is grab at Kim’s hair, the other hand resting on her waist, running up and down her back with her nails and moan at the kisses, grasping at her. One of Sylvie’s legs loops around Kim’s in a kind of way, pulling her lower body closer to her own, in the perfect place for Sylvie to grind against, needing to alleviate some tension.

It’s only when Kim’s hand snakes away from it’s current position and runs along the waistband of her jeans, deftly undoing her button and slipping inside does Sylvie gasp, pushing at Kim slightly. Kim’s hand is still cold from the cool Chicago night air, and Sylvie can feel the cold as Kim runs her hand against the cotton of her panties, lightly brushing over her throbbing clit.

“Bedroom. Kim, bedroom,” Sylvie gasps.

“Hm. Impatient, are we?” Kim grins at her, and Sylvie can’t help comparing it to a wolf looking at it’s prey. The brunette is so sweet and kind, Sylvie never would’ve guessed that she was like this—so confident and devious—in the bedroom. Or, rather, the hallway. But Sylvie wouldn’t have it any other way.

Kim steps away from Sylvie then, and she immediately misses the warmth of her body, and her hand's presence from where it was so close to where she wants—no, needs—her. She’s going into Sylvie’s bedroom, beckoning the blonde to follow.

Sylvie is starting to rather feel like putty in Kim’s hands, and she’s never been a passive participant in her sex life—well, except when she lets men (Harrison) rule how she should be—and she’s not about to start.

She follows Kim on through, and she already has an advantage knowing the layout of her bedroom. Sylvie’s hands are on Kim again, and she’s leading, practically pushing, Kim to her bed, the brunette having no choice but to lie down on it, Sylvie immediately straddling her.

“Not a very good cop, are you?” Sylvie teases her, and when Kim goes to protest, she grinds down slightly, knowing exactly where it’ll cause friction. It has the desired effect, Kim moaning, her eyes fluttering shut slightly. Her hands are resting of Sylvie’s hips, and they go up then, stroking at the soft skin of her stomach.

“Bra, off. Now,” Kim says, running a hand along the edge of the bra. Sylvie grins wickedly at her, wondering why Kim ever thought she still had the upper hand, to doll out an order.

“Yes. That’s a good idea.” Sylvie shifts down Kim slightly, resting more weight on her own kneeled legs, allowing for Kim to sit up. The brunette clearly thinks it’s so she can help Sylvie with the bra, but Sylvie catches her hands, stopping her, and instead undoes Kim’s bra.

Sylvie’s never been intimate with a woman like this. There’s been those dreams—day dreams and actual dreams—that she spent a while trying to ignore, and thinking she’ll never act upon. But she’s never, physically, been with one and whereas her confidence has gotten her this far, she falters as Kim takes off her bra.

There’s that hesitation, that hesitation that she wants Kim—needs Kim—that this is exactly how she wants to explode tonight, but there’s that knowledge that she’s inexperienced in this, hitting her as she’s confronted with Kim’s naked chest.

“Is this too much?” Kim picks up straight away that Sylvie is having a moment, her eyebrows furrowing, turning concerned. “We can stop or just make out. Whatever you want—consent still applies with two women, y’know, and I won’t mind.”

Sylvie looks at her, Kim’s voice so gentle and caring, her big, brown eyes only filled with concerned, and something inside her throbs and Sylvie’s hesitation wears off as she realises that there’s nothing to be intimidated by, and Kim won’t mind if she has to guide her a little.

“Nah, I’m just taking your beauty in.” Sylvie jokes, before adding more seriously, “This is exactly what I want, Kim.”

“Good.” Kim smiles. “Because I’m feeling that we should even things here.”

Sylvie should’ve know that Kim would take off her bra as soon as she could, the brunette raking her eyes greedily over her body. She grabs at Sylvie’s thighs, positioning her in a way that she can sit on her and they can kiss with ease.

Kim doesn’t spend long kissing her lips before she’s travelling again, her fingers gently tracing patterns on her back as she kisses down her neck, collarbone, going between kisses and nips. Sylvie tries to adjust herself so that she can kiss the dip of Kim’s shoulder as she does so, but Kim tries her hardest to stop any attempts, not wanting to be restricted in her own explorations.

When Kim’s mouth gets to her chest, she pauses. Sylvie has barely any time to wonder what will happen next when Kim’s hand is palming one breast, making her gasp in surprise. The brunette lifts her mouth from her body, instead taking advantage of her agape mouth, kissing her deep. And then she’s moving them, laying Sylvie down, shifting who’s winning this lustful game of cat and mouse they’re playing.

Kim doesn’t straddle her like Sylvie did earlier, just making them vertical, Kim between her legs. She’s squeezing her breast again, and then her mouth is around the other’s nipple, rolling her tongue around it, and Sylvie lets out a loud moan she’d almost be embarrassed about if it didn’t feel so good. Kim works her like this for god knows how long before switching.

And then Kim is once again pulling away and Sylvie pouts, to Kim’s amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Kim coos at her. “I’m just taking off your jeans so I can fuck you with my mouth.”

Sylvie never knew hearing Kim swear could sound so hot.

“Your jeans too. I was you as naked as I am,” She doesn’t know how she still has brain power to compose thoughts, focused so much on the needy ache in her body.

Kim steps off the bed so that she can shimmy off her jeans. Her panties match the bra she was wearing and Sylvie couldn’t even describe how much that made her desire spike. She wonders if Kim was working today and if she changed before going to Molly’s—curious to know if Kim wore such lacy stuff to work.

Surely not? Sylvie sure as hell doesn’t, let alone wearing a matching set.

“Like what you see?” Kim flirts before climbing back onto the bed, immediately getting to work on helping Sylvie get off her own jeans. There’s a moment when they’re off that Sylvie gets momentarily self conscious of her near-naked body, but then Kim’s running a finger along her panties again, pressing down on her clit through the fabric.

The sound it elicits from her is a mix between a gasp, moan and whine.

“Kim,” Sylvie practically begs as she releases the pressure, resuming to gentle barely there strokes as she returns her mouth to her breasts, collarbone and neck. Kim seems to get the message because then she’s—with skill that makes Sylvie wonder just how many times Kim has done this—hooking her fingers around her panties and taking them off.

She doesn’t hesitate to resume her actions, now without the fabric in the way. Kim dips a finger inside her, her thumb brushing against her clit with differentiating levels of pressure and Sylvie can’t help but shut her eyes and moan at the sensation, Kim working her with her talented fingers.

“You’re so wet,” Kim whispers into her ear, nibbling against her jawline before adding another finger. She laughs hotly against her as Sylvie tightens, squeezing Kim’s fingers. She’s just about used to the feeling, and the motions, a pressure inside her building, but then Kim’s pulling them out and she’s whining.

And then Kim’s pulling away from her, and Sylvie just about opens her eyes, lifting up her head, in time to see down her body, looking devilishly. And then Kim’s licking her and it’s everything she’s wanted, needed, and her head is falling back down. Kim works her with her mouth, and all Sylvie can think is about how indeed, Kim is mightily skilled with her tongue.

The tension in Sylvie builds quickly, fast approaching her orgasm, Kim lapping at her and using her fingers to add that extra sensation, rubbing and pinching, alternating between making she’s in place and fondling her breasts and Sylvie’s gripping at her covers, gasping and whining as she writhes, overwhelmed at the sensations.

All thoughts have left her mind, and all Sylvie can focus on is the quick approaching climax, not caring about how lost in it she must be—not caring how loud she’s being, how unfiltered and uncontrolled she is, just focused on how good Kim is making her feel.

And then she reaches her climax, Kim is taking her over and she gets her wish—it’s everything Sylvie has needed, and she screams, full of ecstasy, her body overcome with sensation, toes curling as she comes around Kim’s tongue, the brunette continuing to lap at her, guiding her through her orgasm.

“That...” Sylvie pants as soon as she can. “That—exactly what I needed.”

It’s not perfect grammar, but she thinks Kim gets it, if how she smiles and moves so she’s cuddling against Sylvie, is any indication.

#kim burgess #sylvie brett #chicago pd #Chicago fire #kim burgess x sylvie brett #Chicago pd fanfiction #Chicago fire fanfiction #ree writes #ree's.writing #ree.smut #ree.wlw

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bunchofstraydogs · 3 years

Note

You asked for it :> So may I request the rest of BSD playing Genshin? 😘🥰

Darling, since I can't write that many characters in one go, I thought I should give you something special. I present... 💫 women 💫

Women of BSD as Genshin Impact players

tw: you're in bsd fandom, you know all the tw there are by now

Kyouka Izumi- Assasin in the streets, babysitter in the... Genshin Impact

Kyouka is that cute, stubborn kid that overfixates on things. Atsushi is things. Look, we all know Kyo-chan is mad intelligent and talented and it shows in her game play. Right off the bat she got the sense of the gameplay of every type of character and decided what works best for her. She knows what type of team she's going for and knows how to manage her materials wisely.

When she plays alone, Kyouka works towards bettering her characters and pushing through the storyline. Her favourite way to play the game is with Atsushi, whether alone or in co-op with others. Playing with Jinko is a huge win-win situation for her - she helps him beat up whatever he needs to take down and complete puzzles, he gives her praises and gratitude. And materials, but seldom does she take them.

Her main job, though, is to protect Atsushi and his world from the otherworldly evil known as the suicidal maniac, Dazai Osamu. She's fairly successful.

Main Team: MC, Klee, Keqing, Rosaria

Sub Team: MC, Qiqi, Fischl, Hu Tao

Mains MC, both for her flexibility with elements and because she likes being the little sister to Atsushi's male MC.

Yosano Akiko- retired nurse, now a terrorist

Did you really think she'd stay a healer without having the sadistic satisfaction of hurting people in grotesque ways? Nay. She doesn't have a single healer on team. She either has a teammate who's a healer like Haruno, or she wastes abundance of food until she can teleport to a statue of the seven.

Her game play is on crack, basically. She has several energy spurs, sometimes several times a day, where she rages through the game, before losing interest and going shopping. It's very possible with her that days can pass before she feels like playing again. Then she binges the game for hours and repeat.

When i say she acts like on crack i mean it. She has rage in her veins instead of blood. She tanks her characters and goes out looking for fights with worst possible opponents. Hell, she'll under equip her party just to see how many mofos can she take down in weak state. Spoilers, a fair few. She does die quite a bit, and is almost always out of food, but she's just as stubborn as she's crazy. Those two thing correlate probably. Which is why she made Azdaha her bitch. Her party consists either of strong, hot milfs women like herself, or twinks. You won't see someone like Childe disrespecting her vibe.

Main Team: Beido, Venti, Hu Tao, Rozaria

Sub Team: Lisa, Yanfei, Ningguang, Xingqiu

Beido and Lisa main. Bad bitches only.

Naomi Tanizaki- the fangirl player

She basically collects the cutest characters possible.. That's how she chooses her characters, based on cuteness. She went for the hot ones first to pull her brother but she got jealous and changed her tactic. You know she's spending her money on character skins and certain banners. She's insanely lucky tho?? She got Qiqi on the standard banner as her first 5*, pulled Klee on her banner in little over four 10 pulles and got Diona eventually anyway. Baraba and Xiangling were free and she mained Xiangling untill Klee rolled in. She spent some money on Venti and was already in pity when Ganyu came around. She's fully ready to whale for Kokomi though.

Now i know i said she's incredibly lucky, right? Yeahh that luck has to turn against something to keep the balance and well... she's still crying over Chongyun.

She usually co-ops with her brother, it's a daily ritual. Loves co oping with everyone though, mostly Haruno, Atsushi and Kyouka. She made online friends as well. Actually, there is one person she co ops with almost as much as she does with her brother. IchiGawa is her Genshin bestie and they talk about their crushes and infatuations besides the game itself. Her friend is the only secret she keeps from her brother.

Main Team: Klee, Diona, Venti, Barbara

Sub Team: Razor, Xiangling, Xingqiu, Qiqi

A Klee main.

Haruno Kirako- the healer

Literal angel. You need her, i need her, ADA needs her, the president needs her, just... yes. Her whole team consists of support- healers and crowd control characters. She was a f2p at first, but realised she earns her own money and can spend it however she wishes and she chose the monthly cards.

She's a necessity, point blank. She can get intimidated by new foe at first, but when backed up by her friends, she becomes determined and flexible. Pays good attention to her teammates, most importantly, their health bars, and acts accordingly.

The only reason most of them made it as far as they have, being as reckless as they are.

Main Team: Albedo, Barbara, Jean, Venti

Sub Team: Qiqi, Noel, Jean, Xinyan

Mains Albedo and Barbara

Fan fact: She's very fascinated infatuated with Albedo!! He's even her home screen and has posters and key chain of him.

Gin Akutagawa- that cottagecore assassin

You may be wondering what that could even mean. Let me tell you, she brought Animal Crossing to Genshin Impact. Sure she takes care of her characters and they're pretty powerful, but she kicks ass in real life as well. The game is her little getaway, especially since Serenity pot has been introduced. She's been making away her home for her and her brother characters. You can see her chop wood, collect materials, taking pictures with her friends and her brother, sometimes of pretty scenery and cute moments. A very wholesome player.

She's the type to help her friends explore their world and help them find oculi, open chests, shrines, collect flowers, mine... She's very patient, but if she sees her co-op teammates struggle with something, she'll jump in to help do it herself untill told to back off. In which case she will listen and silently give her support, usually with the cheering stickers in the chat.

She's f2p! Sure, she could get the monthly card at least, as Ryunosuke told her, but she really wants to enjoy the game on her own terms and have what she does through her own effort and hard work. It just feels satisfying to her and more personal.

Main Team: Jean, Ayaka, Diluc, Barbara

Sub Team: Doesn't have one! She just changes characters if certain elements are needed.

Jean main!! She admirers the relationship her and Barbara have. While she's the younger of the two, she's taken the mantle of the older sibling, in a way, and is looking after her reckless as heck brother and cares for him like Jean does for Barbara. Jean is also a wonderful person in her eyes and Gin harbours great respect for the blonde.

Higuchi Ichiyo- IchiGawa 🤡

I love Higuchi so much, but my girl is a mess and a half. Help her, please. No, really, she needs help. She's been over compensating for not being dramatic and eye catching in the battlefield, and has now found a new way to prove herself to her Akutagawa-san. Problem is, as soon as she sees a potentially powerful character, she has to get them and boost them to the havens... yeahh, good thing you can't do loans in the game, otherwise she'd have sharks on her ass for having a bill as dramatic and eye catching as Tsunade's from Naruto. Our girl out there turning heads for wrong reasons. She's definitely spent her pay checks on the game "oh no no, i just buy the monthly subscription, ehe" ehe my ass, you bankrupt bitch. Baal is coming and she's looking to sell a kidney. No, it's not her own and no, it doesn't have anything to do with the game. It's a mission, for God's sake.

But hey, the game is a good investment for her! She even made a friend, one that totally understands her how she feels!! They're very alike as well, ready to do anything for the person they love. The two talk about love a lot and have bonded over it. Higuchi is actually a jealous and a protective type of person, so she hides her friend from Gin and Tachihara like snake hides it's legs. If only they knew 🤡. But it's better this way as they both have a certain sense of normalcy and familiarity they were missing in their daily lives. (Higuchi and Naomi meeting scenario when?)

Main Team: Xiao, Fischl, Xingqiu, Diluc

Sub Team: Baal (soon?), Venti, Ganyu, Zhongli

She mains Xiao because he reminds her of Akutagawa-san and yes, she uses characters from her sub team when playing with others.

Fan Fact: when she was asked why her username is IchiGawa, she said she's like a river 🤡 No, it does absolutely not stand for Ichiyo Akutagawa.

Ozaki Kouyo- the husbando and loli collector

Don't get the wrong idea when i said loli collector. She just needs to adopt them and look after them. She also enjoys watching her precious babies kick ass like her Kyouka. But that's a two way sword, because she gets angry when they die. Savage.

And yeahh, the real reason she's playing the game... Mr Zhongli. She switches often between eng and jpn audios because she can't decide which sounds sexier. Also, Mr Diluc? Yes, she would like to be served one sex on the beach please and thank you! Ah, Mr Kaeya, a perfect window of opportunity, yes.

She has a huge spot for the teenager group as well. Razor, Bennett, Fishl, Xiangling, Xingqiu and Chongyun are also her kids. She just finds them very precious (don't we all?).

Main Team: Zhongli, Kaeya, Bennett, Diluc

Sub Team: Diona, Klee, Qiqi, Sayu

A Zhongli and Diluc main.

Bonus:

Elise- the evil lackadaisical player

Mori found out about the game from Higuchi and Tachihara and introduced it to Elise, telling her she should make a team of sweet little girls like herself and have fun going on adventures around Teyvat. In response, Elise made a team that, not only does it not have a single child in it, but is using it to gaslight and bully Rintarou.

"Why aren't you smart and inventive like Albedo?"

"Why aren't you as passionate and persistent as Sucrose?"

"Look how capable, loved and admired Ningguang is. You could never."

"I wish i had someone as strong, caring, handsome and rich like Childe looking after me. He would treat me like a real princess. "

Mori has been crying rivers ever since.

Thing is, Elise isn't even that interest in the story. Actually, she couldn't care less. Some characters are interesting to her and she likes the graphics, but other than that, she's mostly playing the game to torture the greasy doctor (as she should).

Main Team: Albedo, Sucrose, Ningguang, Childe

Sub Team: doesn't have one

Doesn't have a main either, she plays whoever she feels like playing.

I wanted to add Lucy too, but my mind wasn't cooperating ;-; Sorry about that. I do hope you liked this, Eli 💛

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #kyoka izumi #haruno kirako #higuchi ichiyo #ozaki kouyou #bsd elise #tanizaki naomi

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interstellarrambles · 4 years

Note

Hi! Love your writing! Would you ever consider doing a Billy Hargrove x plus size reader? Maybe the reader is shy and nerdy so the party are always hanging around her, she's like an cool older sister to them. Billy finds the kids annoying because they're always around the reader when he tries to ask her out. Thanks!

heya love! very sorry I took my time with this but I wanted to make it perfect as a chubby girl myself. I really hope you enjoy it, this is probably the longest piece I've ever written, it's like four in one. solis x

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female plus size!reader

fandom: stranger things

warnings: bullies unsurprisingly, nothing terrible, abusive families, domestic abuse

fourth time lucky. bh.

the three times billy hargrove tried to ask you out, and the one time it actually worked.

hair pushed back, cig hanging gently on his smiling lips and jeans sprayed onto his muscular thighs; Billy Hargrove looked almost delectable as he stood, leaning against your lockers and waiting for you to show up. this had become a regular thing since you'd first started hanging out, and though the other teenagers of Hawkins couldn't work out why Billy would want to hang around for you, he couldn't care less. whenever he needed someone real to comfort him, and show him he was worthy of love and affection, you were there. you made him feel more alive, and that made him breathless ironically whenever he was around you. touch starved was never a word Billy would ever associate with himself until he met you. no matter how many girls had laid their hands on him, he needed none of them as much as he needed your touch.

already this afternoon, Tommy had tried to pull him away, promising him a girl at his party later on, but Billy simply shook his head and remained where he was. you were due a free period right now, and he wanted to skip and go hang out before the end of school when he'd have to pick up Max.

it was through Max and the gang that the two of you had met properly for the first time, and though she'd hated his insistent flirting, she had to admit that she didn't mind hanging out with you more. suddenly less boisterous and cruel, whenever he was around you, Max noticed how Billy would change. he loved how much you cared about the gang, even if he could never work out why you cared so much.

caring and sweet, yet undeniably outspoken and confident: it was something Billy loved about you - you had the capability to show so much love, perhaps because of experiencing a severe lack of it, but on the other hand, you still stood up for yourself and protected the ones you loved fiercely. your years in high school before billy had been ridden with cruel taunts and bullying because of your appearance, hence why you began hanging out with the gang, but since he had joined, people quickly learned not to mention you in the wrong way. whether it was the love he felt for you in his heart that motivated him to dish out bruises and broken bones in your honour, or the way you always patched him up after and kissed his bruised knuckles as a thank you, he wasn't really sure. in his heart, he knew it was a mixture of both.

Billy had been too caught up in his thoughts to notice you coming around the corner moments before, but when he heard your laughter bouncing through the corridor, he knew it was you. gazing on in adoration, he watched as you walked towards him, your boots hitting the ground quicker when you noticed him waiting. your smiles and soft skin just visible from your clothes made him nervous, and though he wasn't accustomed to the feeling he'd put up with it if you were part of the deal.

"hey princess, been missing you," he smirked, removing his cigarette to talk properly. up close, he made a note that you were wearing one of his old shirts, one he had left at yours one night after a fight with his father. the bitter memory of his injuries was somewhat sweetened by the memory of you kissing his wounds and holding him. he hoped you'd find comfort in him too.

"hey Billy, thanks for waiting," softly smiling back, you pressed your hands against his chest and pushed him back so you could open your locker. as you touched him, gentle but firm, his muscles tensed noticeably and he felt his heart race a little faster.

"so uhh, I had something I wanted to ask you doll," his demeanour quickly became less relaxed, and you felt yourself fill with nerves. a blush spread across your cheeks when he called you that pet name, your imagination getting the better of you. imagining him whispering, groaning that pet name in another predicament completely made your skin feel hot to the touch.

right as you nodded and he went to continue, one of the gang cleared their throats in an effort to get your attention.

you chuckled as you watched his face quickly drop. behind you stood the gang smiling up at Billy, half scared, half amused. the way you'd yelled at him in the past for even laying a finger on them made him too scared to dare do anything, but the threat remained in their minds.

the kids muttered between themselves as you and Billy took a step aside. you tried to keep your head straight as you watched his muscles tense and the st christopher bounce against his chest, but you still felt slightly dizzy. with you stood against the lockers, him mere centimetres away, your mind was racing and you just hoped he couldn't tell.

"princess..." his tone was a mix of warning and pleading, and made your hair stand on edge. Billy knew the kids wanted to come and hang out at your house, since no one else's parents would allow it. but Billy wanted you to himself for once, and when it came to you, whatever Billy wanted, he usually got. perhaps not today though.

shaking his head, Billy knew he'd lost the battle when you smiled and tilted your head at him.

"okay, but they're gonna have to make it up to me at some point," he stated, loud enough for the whole corridor to hear, turning to you with a smile, he whispered, "and so will you doll."

a few weeks later, you found yourself sat on the bleachers in the school gym, watching Billy practice. confident, proud and talented: Billy knew he was good at basketball, better than anyone else on the team, so he enjoyed the moments on the pitch. it was one of those moments where Billy felt good at something; it was something he could be proud of.

lighting up with joy, his face was always a wonder when he noticed you were watching, and it made your stomach fill with butterflies. though you were sure the guys on his team would've said something about you hanging around, you were also sure he'd shut them up. it made you nervous being in a room full of boys that had made your high school experience suck, but the occasional smiles from Billy were worth it.

the mainly quiet gym, hour long practice and shirtless Billy were all more than enough to convince you to attend every practice he had, using the space to revise or study (or spend your time gazing at the boy of your dreams). as well as this, Billy always rushed through showering and getting ready afterwards to take you to a local diner, where the two of you would hang out and waste away the evening with jukebox dancing and milkshakes.

having the privilege to be in the presence of post workout Billy was something you'd never stop being grateful for, because his bad boy act usually dropped during these times. buzzing with energy, he'd grab your hand while he drove down the endless country roads and tell you stories of running away, making a new life. his eyes would electrify, and you'd both lose track of time, playing his music way too loud and dancing badly.

hopefully, today would be no different. you both had a big test the next day and you had revised so much your brain had turned grey and blurry. Billy needed a pick me up too, since his home life had been worsening, so you vowed to make tonight memorable for him. planning ahead, you'd packed a bag with a blanket and some snacks, hoping to find somewhere to stop and have a fire.

as you finished going through your notes one last time, the coach blew the final whistle indicating practice was over. after receiving a wink from Billy and waving back to him gleefully, you began packing away your notebooks and headed for the car park, where you'd wait for him.

by the time Billy joined you, his hair still wet from the showers, you were freezing, your jumper not quite shielding from the bitter mid spring air. immediately, Billy picked up on this and before even greeting you his jacket was wrapped around your frame. it made you nervous sometimes, since his clothes weren't as baggy on you as they would be on other girls, and this threatened to wipe the smile off of your face.

"sorry I took so long doll, Steve was giving me shit," although his face showed obvious distaste for Steve, his eyes still softened at the sight of you in his clothes: "you look gorgeous today y/n, even better with my jacket."

blushing, you hugged him silently, chuckling to yourself when he slipped his hand into his jacket pocket to reach for a his lighter and cigarettes.

"there's no surprise," swinging open the door for you, he simply ignored your remark, so you continued, "what's the plan for today then?"

Billy had also wanted today to be special. he'd thought it over and over in his mind, trying to think of something good enough, a way to ask you out properly that suited you, showed you how much your deserved. he thought he'd come up with a pretty good idea, but it would have to be a surprise for now to make the reveal even more worthwhile.

"well babe, that is a surprise, you'll have to wait and see," he teased, a smirk rolling around his lips, sharing the space with his lit cigarette. hopping into the seat next to you, Billy began driving away from Hawkins high school, his palm resting gently on your thigh. a small affection you had grown to love, the feel of his palm against your skin set your body alight almost and you had to fight the smile threatening your lips.

Billy eventually let you know he needed to pick some things up from his house before you could set off together to do whatever he had planned, claiming he'd left something at home that morning. therefore, when his Camaro rolled up the street to his house, you settled into the seat, not expecting to have to wait long before he'd be back.

with the weight of his denim jacket on your torso, you fiddled with the seams of it, adoring the way it swamped your body even if you knew you probably looked ridiculous. tuning out to the situation, you knew Billy wouldn't invite you in at all, so you busied yourself organising the front seat of his car, something he'd probably kill anyone else for.

living with his father, there were certain things Billy was sensitive to, things he could piece together pretty quickly to decipher the situation. so when he saw the lights of the living room illuminating the house and heard the stern voice of his father hollering through the house, it set his body on full alert. he knew pretty quickly it had something to do with Max, since she had told him not to bother taking her home, saying she didn't want to wait until practice was over.

Billy figured he could buy perhaps another half hour to drive you home and pretend like everything was normal; the outcome would be the same regardless, he'd be blamed and punished for whatever stupid thing his step sister had decided to do.

hands shaking, Billy returned to the car, his lips pressed tightly together as he gripped the steering wheel white knuckled.

realising the tension coursing through his body, you slowly placed your hand in his empty one, holding it on one of your thighs. only moments before he'd been touching your skin with a completkely different emotion racing through his veins. he'd been overtaken by excitement and anticipation, wondering whether he'd finally be able to kiss you tonight and hear you call him yours properly. fear and adrenaline had replaced this now, and anticipation for a completely different evening set his heart beating off time.

his eyes trailed over to you for a second, a silent acknowledgement, a thank you for showing him the love he needed. whether you were good with words or not, it didn't matter since he probably wouldn't hear you over his heart pounding.

keeping him grounded, the warmth of your hands around his and the soft of your thighs held him in place; reminded him there was good in the world.

"I... Billy I wanted to say something, and I don't know if now is the right time," you started, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth, but not being able to stop once you'd started, " you mean the world to me, and I..."

the words got choked in your throat, and though his eyes remained on the road, you felt the car pull over so he could focus on you. it was so fucking embarrassing to Billy. tonight of all nights, when Billy was planning to ask you to be his girl, his little sister had decided to sneak out instead of riding home, and got caught. his dad was furious and now Billy was livid with Max again. but most of all, he was embarrassed that his home life was so fucked up, he couldn't even take the time outside of school to ask you on a date.

processing the words you were speaking to him wasn't really working in his overactive mind, and you could tell. reaching with your hands, you held his face and as you spoke, he watched your lips shamelessly

"I'm sorry it's like this Billy. I wish I could do something. I just want you to be safe."

Billy didn't have anything in mind to respond to your sympathy with, so he simply leaned into your touch one final time.

"you should get going. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. my dad..." he trailed off but you understood clearly.

miserably reaching for your bag, you leaned over to him and kissed his cheek before clambering out and making your way up to your house. butterflies still fluttered around your stomach at the small moment of bliss, having him so close yet so far, even if the moment was horrifically tainted.

Billy traces his fingers across the shape your lips has branded into his cheek and smiles softly for a second, forgetting himself in your love.

today, Billy had noticed something different about you. adorned in one of his borrowed band shirts, a confidence seemed to radiate from your skin, and though he didn't know what had provoked it, he was determined to keep it there.

glittering with amusement, your eyes widened as he stole your book from your hands and took the seat next to you. in the cafeteria especially, many wondered why Billy Hargrove, the legend, would sit with someone quite a bit lower down the social ladder. even so, his presence, along with the faint smell of cigarettes and aftershave, followed you in your lunch periods and you were eternally grateful. you loved spending your lunch times listening to him complain about Steve and Tommy, and you loved how he'd listen intently to your ramblings about school, home and whatever work you were doing.

whenever Billy wasn't with you, cutting remarks would haunt you like a second shadow, and though you were big enough to deal with it yourself, it was nice not having to.

as he winked at you and dropped your book back into your lap, your heart swelled a little and you didn't quite notice one of his teammates walking by, so when his voice cut through your moment harshly.

"hey Billy, I didn't realise you were trying on the fat girl? c'mon there's much better-" the boy didn't quite get to finish his sentence before Billy had him against a nearby support, clearly furious.

gripping the lapels of his jacket, Billy practically growled, "I suggest you shut the hell up before I beat your ass," before dropping him, realising the staff members had caught on to his out burst. as well as the rest of the students, whose eyes quickly landed on you, shaking and visibly embarrassed.

pathetically whimpering as he crawled away, the boy avoided your path when he noticed you snatch your bag and make a run for it. breathing hard, Billy quickly grabbed his jacket before chasing after you as you hurried outside, gasping for air. your cheeks felt like they were on fire and you couldn't help but wish it didn't have to be like this.

you cursed his athletic nature when he caught up to you almost immediately, whispering "hey, hey don't cry babe, don't cry about him, he's an asshole," over and over while pulling you into a hug.

until he mentioned it, you didn't notice you were crying, fat tears making his sweater soggy. glittering again, this time your eyes struggled to meet his when he pulled away to speak to you.

"I'm so, I'm sorry you had to do that for me Billy, I," you started in between wiping the tears away on your sleeve. wrapping his jacket around you, he smiled and replied "it's no problem, I just wanna see you smiling girl, that's all. I just lose my temper when they say shit like that because I just..." before he managed to finish his sentence, you took his hand, already half expecting but not quite believing what he was about to say. trembling but warm, strong; his eyes dropped to your hands intertwined and you were somewhat shocked to see a blush forming across his cheeks.

"I wanna look after you forever y/n. hate seeing you upset, you're too important to me," Billy couldn't believe he'd copped out with such a wishy washy answer, but it satisfied you. you knew what he really meant behind his words and you felt the same, which was why you pushed yourself into his arms again and kept your face pushed against his neck for longer than before.

the cold bite of his metal jewellery against your skin mixed with the faint smell of his cologne made you almost light headed, overtaken with love and light swarming your insides, but with his arms around your waist, there was nothing but safety to be felt.

smiling against his skin, you whispered loud enough for only him to hear,

"you're important to me too Billy, always will be."

perhaps a month or so later, Billy stood against his Camaro, a cigarette painting his lips with grey smoke, watching as you ran over to him. smiles exchanged from a distance as usual, he couldn't help but notice yours was bigger than usual and he wondered why.

knuckles clenching when he saw Steve and the children close by, following your heels, he felt worry wash over him and he became gripped by the though that Steve had perhaps made a move. Billy had always gotten the idea that Steve was interested, since you hung out more than average friends due your shared love for the kids. it could've also been a sense of masculinity that Billy had always felt he needed to uphold - Steve had been the king once and what would stop you from seeing that he was better for you than Billy would ever be?

Billy had never had to deal with feelings of insufficiency before, and he wasn't quite sure what to do. washed away as quickly as they had arrived though, he felt himself calm when you came closer and fixed his collar for him. his breath fanning against your neck as you reached to unfurl the collar, his warmth enveloped you and it took everything in you to hold back.

blissed out from just that moment, Billy took a few seconds to realise there was something in your hand before asking, eyeing the kids behind you.

"there's a fair coming nearby!" El butted in, earning a ruffle of her hair from you and a slight smile from Billy - he had to admit she was cute sometimes.

"and obviously, we're going," you proposed, half asking, half demanding.

Steve smirked at the way you placed a hand on Billy's chest, unconcerned at the glare he received from Billy as a result.

"I'm off, come on kids, you can come to mine," Steve announced, giving you a smile that just reeked of 'tell him you pussy'.

a few goodbyes were said and hugs were given, and then you were alone with Billy, Max clambering into the car to give you a minute. perhaps even she could sense what was going to happen.

Billy simply raised an eyebrow having clearly worked out there was something on your mind.

"Billy, I've been wanting to say it for a while and I wasn't really sure how you'd react, but," hot, red and fast, Billy could feel his blood pulsating as the words tumbled from your lips, but he couldn't stop looking at them.

"I wanted to know if you'd go to the fair with me, as more than just friends? I get it if not, but I like you a lot and it's kinda..."

before you could finish your sentence, Billy was asking if he could kiss you, ignoring everyone around you.

soft, warm and comforting, his lips against yours convinced you you had no reason to be nervous. the kiss quickly deepened, your hands laced through his hair and his settled on your waist.

"God I've waited too long for this," he whispered into your neck.

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lilydalexf · 4 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Marasmus

Marasmus only has a handful of fics left at Gossamer, but you can find more X-Files fics at AO3 (as finisterre). Some of my favorites of her stories I've recced here before, including one of the most clever fics you could read, Cellphone (here at AO3), and the lovely, London-set A Candle for Katherine (here at AO3, bonus commentary at LJ). Big thanks to Marasmus for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Mine, yes, older XF in general, no — some of that stuff is amazing. Though I wonder how well fandom operates now there is not a plethora of rec sites. I know of yours and one more Tumblr blog and that’s it. I find it really difficult to find good stories in any fandom unless someone whose taste maps to mine recommends something.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

I look back on it fondly, but it was one of the first things that really hammered it home to me that every grouping throughout life follows the pattern of school.

A lot of people are really talented and funny and kind. Then there are absolute ego-rampaging nightmares who act like lady bountiful in public but do cruel things in private, or chuck their toys out of the pram at the least provocation.

And like school, fandom brings together a disparate group of people who you’re friendly with, but once you leave, the ones you stay in touch with are your friends.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Thank God.

I watched the show pre-widespread internet and mostly when I had almost no money. I didn’t have regular internet access until the third season, and that was only at my incredibly conservative workplace. I didn’t get home internet access until midway through season six. You couldn’t download episodes easily, you couldn’t stream, you just had to wait until it aired overseas. I decided I didn’t care if I was spoiled and that worked for me. In fact for some particularly annoying episodes, I was glad.

I was a newsgroup and mailing list sort of person. Never really did message boards unless a newsgroup counts, though I had a Haven account.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Mostly, how talented people are. I know some are now professional writers, but so many people who didn’t do it as anything but a hobby were also amazing.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I always liked science fiction, oddness and urban legends, so it was kind of made for me. But it was the relationship between Mulder and Scully that kept me around, and after season six, it was the fandom that kept me around. I loved Scully in particular, cos let’s be honest, Mulder can be kind of a twerp at times.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I hung out on alt.tv.xfiles.analysis (a newsgroup), which was one of the smartest boards I’ve ever been on. The threads were full of well-read, erudite people. That led to a site which collated reviews of XF episodes. They mentioned alt.tv.xfiles.creative, and I got there the summer after Gethsemane, which was pretty optimal timing.

I’d take floppy disks into conservative workplace and quietly download the most gloriously filthy fanfic onto them for reading at home on my ancient second-hand Mac.

After that I joined Scullyfic, a mailing list, which was a lovely place to hang out for a while, and got stories through a couple of other mailing lists.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Like my relationship to ice hockey: glad that activity exists and that some people enjoy it, but not watching and not involved myself.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Reading, yes, and writing the odd bit of feedback, but any other fandom involvement didn’t really take. I’ve never found a bunch of people I liked as well as I liked some of the people in XF.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

I am usually more interested in female characters than male ones (the Doctor, Mulder and Jack O’Neill notwithstanding), which is why I only read a bit of m/m slash. I usually develop a perverse dislike for any woobie the fandom loves.

Some favourites are: Samantha Carter and Jack O’Neill, Granny Weatherwax, Furiosa, everyone from The Good Place, Donna Noble, Sarah Jane Smith, Martha Jones and Yasmin Khan, Maia from The Goblin Emperor, Cordelia Naismith and Miles Vorkosigan, General Leia Organa, Rey and Finn, and lately all of The Old Guard, even Booker...

I like nerds, pining, best friends discovering feelings for each other, second chances, redemption narratives, people being sneaky for good ends and stoics who stay stoic through all kinds of misery, only to crack and start crying when they get a happy ending.

Basically, you know Eleanor at the end of the Emma Thompson Sense and Sensibility? That.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

No. I had about four years there where I made up stories about Mulder and Scully on any commute where I’d forgotten a book, but that’s gone now. I watched two episodes of the revival, but it wasn’t for me.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I occasionally wander in and read a bit on AO3, but nothing that deals with anything past season seven. Not interested in William, not interested in domestic fiction, not even interested in post-col any more, which was 100% my crack during XF fandom days. I did read By the Dim and Flaring Lamps [Lilydale note: by @sunflowerseedsandscience] earlier this year. Love a bit of AU historical.

I read lots of different fandoms, though I am between intense enthusiasms at the moment, which always feels a bit odd.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Yes, but they’re all about 20 years old. Is there such a thing as fandom classics any more? There used to be a litany of stories that ‘everyone should read’. I wonder how well they hold up now.

I think there are waves of writers who come into a fandom and then leave again: I think I was part of a second wave, with the first wave being Mustang Sally, RivkaT, Karen Rasch, Lydia Bower, Nascent etc.

Then there must’ve been a third wave for the revival (and mini-waves in between). I don’t know that group of writers, so I am probably leaving out people who are really good.

One of my favourite Scully voices is Five Years and One Night [Lilydale note: by Shalimar], because of the contrast between her inner monologue as written and how little she actually says.

I really like quieter, thoughtful authors like Michelle Kiefer, Cecily Sasserbaum, Scullysfan, Cofax, Anjou, Maria Nicole, Kipler. Love everything Kel ever wrote.

At one point there were also about three authors called Rachel who were knockout. I like to think Rachel Howard is writing professionally because it’s a waste of talent if she’s not. Rachel Anton had a crazy gift for pacing and wrote a good Krycek.

I really liked Branwell’s strange AU novels, which riff off The Field Where I Died (a wretched episode but so much good writing came from it.) [Lilydale note: Condemned to Repeat It by Branwell is a really long story involving The Field Where I Died.]

Everyone who is reccing other people’s stuff here is also a good writer. (and their taste in recs is — mostly — excellent): http://www.thebasementoffice.com/museaxfnet/museans/TitlesAF.html

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I like The Flexible Concept of Tomorrow. I loved trying to work out the timelines. I like the one about airships and cross-dressing which only exists on my iPhone and in my imagination right now.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Only an AU, if ever. I am completely at sea with canon.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

In my head. Mostly AUs. Everyone has daemons! It’s an airship! They’re exploring space! It’s mediaeval Slovenia!

Most of my creativity is sucked away by work. Which is good I suppose, as writing fanfic never paid my Netflix subscription.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Reading long-form journalism and non-fiction books.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Well, I changed mine. The first one was picked out of a magazine article about Branwell Bronte, and I liked the shape of the word. Then I got to feel uncomfortable with it because it was a real illness that made people suffer. The current one comes from the shipping forecast when I was a kid.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

No, and also absolutely not. Over my dead body. Over YOUR dead body.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I took my stories off Gossamer but I don’t remember why. They’re on AO3 now and there are probably stray copies on some archives out there.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

I have made all of these mistakes. All of ‘em.

— On no account offer unsolicited concrit. In fact, do not provide concrit EVEN IF THE PERSON ASKS FOR IT, unless you know them reasonably well and it’s in private.

— Avoid the wank. If you have the perfect riposte to something awful, write it and file it to drafts for two days. If you still want to send it after that, godspeed.

— Write anything you want, and when you start keep going. You can edit later.

— Never put any story into the public sphere unless you’ve had a second pair of eyes on it, preferably the eyes of someone who is willing to say “are you SURE about that?”

Finally, just have fun. Being in the grip of love of story is a wonderful thing, and you never know how long it will last.

(Posted by Lilydale on September 29, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #marasmus #finisterre

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duhragonball · 3 years

Text

Battle Tendency Liveblog: JJBA Ch. 77-82

Here’s a nice map that explains the current plot situation. Lisa Lisa resides on “Air Suplena Island”, an ancient Ripple Clan training facility off the coast of Venice. Apparently there’s a second, smaller island for fighting. The boys were supposed to have their final tests here by fighting their instructors-- Joseph vs. Loggins and Caesar vs. Messina. But...

Esidisi showed up first and killed Loggins just as Joseph arrived for his test. Esidisi seems to have found some clue that the Red Stone of Aja is here, although for some reason he checked this “adjacent island” first instead of the main one. Anyway, Joseph shows up and quickly puts it all together.

This particular moment gets crapped on a bit in the fandom, because Joseph observes that Loggins’ lungs were ripped out, and the lungs are vital for Hamon users, but they’re kind of vital for anybody, so it feels like a silly thing for Joseph to say out loud. I think the real point he’s trying to make here is that Esidisi killed Loggins with a single kick. As formidable as Loggins is, Esidisi knew exactly where to strike for a one-hit-kill. Like, Santana wouldn’t have known to do that, because he’s never fought Ripple Clan guys before. He might have gone for another vital area, not realizing that a skilled Hamon-weilder like Loggins could defend it as long as he could breathe.

Anyway, the stakes just got raised for Joseph’s final test. Beating Loggins was going to be a challenge in itself, but now Joseph will have to defeat the guy who killed Loggins in one blow. But Joseph was going to have to fight Esidisi eventually anyway, so we might as well get it out of the way now.

But it’s JJBA, so no climactic battle would be complete without some absurd shots of buff dudes striding towards each other. Well, the early parts more than the later ones.

I’m not sure why there’s a pit full of spikes on this island, but I assume Loggins planned to fight Joseph here, since Joseph easily uses Hamon to walk on the spikes without getting hurt. As for Esidisi, he just impales his feet on the spikes, because he can regenerate his body anyway.

You know, actually, that seems like a really bad move on Esidisi’s part. If these spikes are made of metal, and attached to a metal plate on the bottom, then Joseph could send his Ripple through the whole structure and zap Esidisi right now. At least, I’m pretty sure Hamon conducts through metal.

I just looked it up, and apparently metal can’t store Hamon, but it will pass through metal, so I think that would be good enough for a trick like this to work. Or maybe these are just stone spikes and they’re not interconnected. Also, I finally found out that “Hamon” is just the Japanese word for “Ripple”, so that explains why the terms are used interchangeably.

This fight is pretty awesome, but it’s tricky, so I’ll try to summarize the action as best I can. Initially, Esidisi doesn’t even want to fight Joseph, because he’s only here to search for the Stone of Aja, and he doesn’t think Joseph has improved enough to bother wasting time on him. But Joseph insists. He wants to avenge Loggins, and he has to stop Eisidisi from proceeding to Air Suplena Island, and he wants the antidote to that poison ring in his throat.

Esidisi is surprised when Joseph’s Ripple is strong enough to force his finger through Esidisi’s hand, but he still thinks he’s strong enough and fast enough to kill Joseph before he can channel more Hamon through his finger. But that was just a diversion. The whole time, Joseph had been unspooling a string, the other end of which was tied to the hand of Loggins’ corpse. Joseph loops it around Eisidisi’s other arm, and it’s been soaked with vegetable oil, so it’s perfect for charging with Hamon.

I guess he only tied the string to Loggins’ body to provide a weight on the other end while Joseph sprang his trap. Anyway, he lops off Eisidisi’s forearm, and dedicates the attack to his dead teacher. You know, I have to think Joseph had a lot of these tricks ready in advance. I mean, he came here to fight Loggins, so maybe he figured a string soaked in vegetable oil would give him an advantage.

Joseph expects Esidisi to be furious, but instead the dude starts bawling like a baby. Joseph is confused and unnerved by this...

... and he’s even more unnerved when Esidisi regains his composure. He explains that a good cry helps him balance his mood. Earlier, Joseph mentioned Sun Tzu, so Esidisi tops him by suggesting that he knew Sun Tzu during his travels in China. I’m not sure why Esidisi would have bothered meeting or reading Sun Tzu, though, since the Pillar Men have been so dismissive of “primitive” humans up to this point. This is the most any of them have spoken to a human, so far, and it seems pretty clear by now that they only bother talking to Joseph because he’s proven himself to be a mildly worthy adversary. Unless Sun Tzu had super powers, I’m not sure why Esidisi would bother remembering the guys name. Then again, maybe Sun Tzu had super powers in the JoJo-verse.

Esidisi’s point is that Joseph only thinks that he won this battle before it began. The missing hand isn’t even a setback, as Esidisi just hops over to Loggins’ corpse and grafts Loggins’ forearm onto his own. Then he melts Loggin’s body just to show off his ability. Back in Part 1, Dio could freeze things by altering his bodily fluids, but the Pillar Men have even greater control over their bodies. Esidisi, for example, can heat his own blood to 600 degrees Celsius, hot enough to burn stuff. I’m not sure why his blood doesn’t burn, but whatever. He calls this his “mode”, and compares it to Wammu’s talent for manipulating air currents. Perhaps appropriately, Joseph prepares his steel balls to use Clacker Volley. So you can see how we’re getting closer and closer to the introduction of Stands in Part 3.

But Esidisi can do more than just burn things with his blood. He can also extend blood vessels from his body, and shoot hot blood at his opponents. And it looks like he’s got a clear shot at Joseph’s face...

Meanwhile, Caesar just finished his battle with Messina, who concedes defeat and gives Caesar a passing score. Caesar immediately checks in on the other island to see how Joseph is doing, and Messina finds that odd. A couple things here. First, Caesar remarks how Joseph has a “heart of gold”, which I’m pretty sure is what Joseph himself said of Josuke and his friends at the end of Part 4, so that’s pretty neat. Second, Messina compares Caesar’s friendship with Joseph to falling for a girl, so clearly Messina ships it.

Anyway, Caesar discovers that Joseph is fighting a Pillar Man instead of Loggins, but they’re too far away for him to help. Luckily, Eisidisi’s hot blood attack only hit Joseph’s breathing mask, so he doesn’t suffer serious injury. But Eisidisi sprouts blood vessels from his back, too, basically trapping Joseph from all sides.

Ah, but Joseph has been unraveling his wool hat the whole time, creating a trap within the trap. This is where it gets kind of confusing.

See, Esidisi’s whole deal here is that he seems to be one step ahead of Joseph, and he even rips off Joseph’s thing where he tells the other guy what he’s about to say next.

All Esidisi has to do is cut the lines Joseph set up, and he won’t be able to conduct any Hamon through them. Whoops.

Except, no! Because... Huh? Joseph talks about how magic tricks and illusions became popular in the 19th and 20th centuries, something Esidisi wouldn’t have known about, but Joseph is all into. He didn’t just make one string through these spikes. He did two, and wove them together in such a way that the second string would still be in tact even when the first was cut. But he made sure that one of these strings would be at Esidisi’s back, so that when he cut the first he wouldn’t notice the second.

Long story short: If you were wondering why Joseph’s Stand is Hermit Purple in Part 3, it’s because he used strings and ropes for almost everything in Part 2. He wraps the remaining string around Esidisi, fires up his Ripple, and Esidisi has no choice but to take it head on.

Unlike Santana, who simply turned into a stone-like material, Esidisi friggin explodes. And this is why I doubt Santana survived for long after Part 2. Now, Joseph’s Ripple is strong enough to destroy Santana quite easily, and we never saw that happen because by the end of this story killing Santana was probably a formality. Anyway, Joseph finds Esidisi’s nose ring and drinks the antidote inside.

Only thing is, Esidisi isn’t dead. His brain and nervous system survived that last attack, and somehow he snuck onto Joseph’s back. On his way inside, Joseph runs into Suzie Q, Lisa Lisa’s... butler? I’m not really sure. Anyway, she’s never seen him without his mask on and they flirt a little before he goes to report to Lisa Lisa.

But she’s taking a bath, and Joseph decides to check her out before he goes in. I gotta say, this shot is way more tasteful than what they did in the anime version.

I’m kind of rushing through this part, but it comes down to this, Esidisi jumped off Joseph’s back, then infiltrated Suzie Q’s body. Controlling her like a puppet, he then found the Red Stone of Aja and gave it to the mailman. Then he reveals himself to the others, and declares his intention to hold them off so that they can’t get the Stone back.

I assume Esidisi isn’t powerful enough to put up much of a fight now, because his strategy mostly boils down to using Suzie Q as a hostage. He’s willing to attack Joseph and the others and to injure Suzie Q’s body, but he knows they can’t kill him without using a Ripple so powerful that it would put too much strain on Suzie’s heart.

Really, I’m not sure I understand that. Hamon is fatal to vampires and Pillar Men, sure, and it can be used to hurt humans, but we’ve also seen it heal people too. You’d think a concentrated Ripple would purge Esidisi from her body without harming her at all. But then I guess we’d have no tension here, so whatever. Joseph tries to call Esidisi’s bluff, but it doesn’t work.

Instead, Joseph reminds Caesar of the trick he used to get out of the Hell Climb Pillar, and they both attack Suzie Q at the same time. Joseph sends repelling Hamon through her body, while Caesar sends attracting Hamon into her heart, and that somehow cancels it out so that she doesn’t die from this. I’m not sure why the diagram needed nipples. Well, I know why, but you know what I mean.

And that finishes off Esidisi. His brain grabs hold of Joseph as it gets forced off of Suzie Q, but there’s nowhere to go from here. They’re out in the sun, and everyone else in the room has Ripple powers, so what else can he do but succumb to death? Caesar is disgusted by Esidisi’s underhanded tactics, but Joseph respects Esidisi for fighting so doggedly to support his comrades and their cause. This stunt with Suzie Q was pretty shameful, but it was all Esidisi could do, so he went for it.

I dunno, I’m with Caesar on this one. Esidisi’s a pretty awesome villain, and I respect the heel heat of using an innocent woman as a hostage, but I can’t respect him in a “noble warrior” kind of way. Rest in piss, Esidisi.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #battle tendency #joseph joestar #caesar zeppeli #suzie q #lisa lisa #esidisi #loggins #messina

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cinematicnomad · 3 years

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1, 7, 25 for the fanfic end of year ask :)

001. favorite fic you wrote this year i have a soft spot for take my hand (take my everything) which was the first fic i wrote this year! and kind of the first step back into writing creatively on something new that wasn’t the 7 year monster sterek fic. also my first foray into 9-1-1 fic and was just a lot of fun!

007. longest completed fic you wrote this year the longest fic i wrote was my second for the year! so show me (family) wound up being around 16k+ for 9-1-1 which kind of burst out of me over the course of one 48 hour window unlike take my hand which took a few weeks to crank out.

025. a fic you read this year you would recommend everyone read SO MANY FICS DUDE!!! i’m gonna rec a couple, some that i re-read this year and some that i discovered for the first time, all from a variety of fandoms. BUT heads up, you didn’t specify a fandom so it’s gonna be a little scattered. also someone else sent me this same question but specified 9-1-1, so i’m gonna reserve those recs for that ask. GET READY!!

and this, your living kiss by opal_bullets (7/7 | 84k+ | M) destiel; AU: college/university; john winchester’s A+ parenting; angst with a happy ending

only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet jack allen is just kansas mechanic dean winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.

until, that is, a string of coincidences leads dean to auditing a poetry course with one dr. castiel novak. the professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia’s foremost expert on the poetry of jack allen.

note: i discovered this fic back in the pre-pandemic times of feb 2020 and i’ve read this fic TWICE since, leaving a lengthy comment each time. the poetry in the fic itself is stunningly gorgeous and i have a habit of reading it out loud to myself while reading bc it begs to be heard. this fic is seriously beautiful and makes me want to read all the poet!dean au’s out there in the world. unfortunately there aren’t that many so i just keep coming back to this well. i don’t think i can express enough how much i love this fic.

lost time by ARCurren (105/105 | 350k+ | T) bransonxsybil; AU: canon divergent; outsider POVs; original characters; slow burn

the story of a free spirit who was asked to give up the man she loved for a system she didn’t believe in and what happened next. AU after 3.04.

note: did i think, when i stumbled across this fic years ago, that it would wind up being one of my all time favorites that i return to time and again to re-read? never. did i re-read it for like the dozenth time this year?? 110%. this fic is everything i want from fanfiction—it’s beautifully written, expands on canon, and shows me all the hidden moments the cameras never did (not to mention it’s historically accurate and delves deep into irish politics of the time). the first third or so of this fic is all about tom and sybil’s slow burn romance at downton, but the fic really bursts into its own when we follow the two to dublin and get introduced to all of the author’s deliciously detailed oc’s. heads up warning: this fic was never officially completed, though the final chapter is a beautifully written summary of the final arc of the fic. even so, it’s fucking worth it.

misfire by mothlights & unpossible (6/6 | 28k+ | T) sterek; time travel; angst with a happy ending; alive hale family; magic; alternating POV

“the debt must be repaid,” she says, and it has the weight of a vow. the words resonate through him, ringing through his ribcage and the bones of his jaw, and stiles loses his breath and maybe his grip on reality because she draws herself upright and where there had once stood a supermodel-level MILK now there is galadriel’s much hotter older sister, a presence of unmistakable power in their ordinary, smells-vaguely-of-thai-takeout hallway.

“oh shit,” stiles says.

note: this fic is the first in the misfire ‘verse and i need you to understand that it literally broke me when i binge read these fics a month or so ago. i am a sucker for a solid time travel fic especially bc there are such few good ones in fandom. but this gets at the heart of it all by exploring the idea of stiles getting the chance to save derek’s family and taking it...after he and derek are romantically together in his true timeline and then actually dealing with the ramifications of how that alters everything and how stiles survives in this new present where he and derek are virtual strangers. everyone should definitely read this, but you should also know that i fucking sobbed while reading the sequel (which also has a happy ending, but really digs deep into the nitty gritty angst of the repercussions).

map of the world by seperis (11/11 | 154k+ | M) destiel; end!verse; alternate universe; canon divergent; original characters; slow burn

the world’s already over and they’re already dead. all they’re doing now is marking time until the end.

note: look, if you don’t know about down to agincourt by @seperis, what are you doing with your life?? the series is over 1M+ words so far, the fic author is on book 4 out of a planned 8, and it’s fucking phenomenal. i know i’ve tagged a couple of these recs as slow burn but...this is the slowest slow burn to ever burn. canon!dean travels back into the end!verse timeline just as lucifer kills dean and somehow cas made it out alive and has to keep dean safe while he learns to become his end!verse counterpoint. the world building in this series is intense and i cannot recommend it enough. i’m still in the midst of my re-read bc it’s SUCH an endeavor but i highly recommend it to everybody.

invictus by ellanasan (116/116 | 355+ | M) hayffie; au: alive abernathy family; pre-hunger games; canon prostitution; slow burn

“so then, before i can even think about doing something stupid like trying to stab him with his fucking golden paperknife, he gives me a choice, see?” haymitch continued, almost detached. “either i play nice like all the other victors or he’ll kill my family. i could either become his puppet—greatest punishment he could give me, according to him—or i could become the example.”

AU in which haymitch’s family lives.

note: hello, have you ever wondered what the hunger games series would be like if haymitch’s family were alive? i fucking hadn’t until 2 years ago when i stumbled across this fic and fell head over heels in love with this ship. @ellanainthetardis is my go to hunger games fic writer for anything exploring canon and i’m obsessed with anything she writes about the OG victors pre-canon (finnick, joanna, chaff, etc). this fic is just 300k+ exploring that world and all the intricate details of how cruel the games could really be. HIGHLY recommend. i definitely re-read it this fall when i needed a pick me up.

don’t know what i’m supposed to do (haunted by the ghost of you) by crazyassmurdererwall (1/1 | 30k+ | T) sterek; canon divergent; angst with a happy ending; ghosts; stiles POV

stiles sees dead people. yep. seriously.

(he’s got this. he’s totally got this. so what if one of them is derek’s mom?)

note: did you know that @crazyassmurdererwall is one of my all time favorite people? and that she’s wicked talented? and that in our spare time she’ll send me a billion fic ideas that are amazing and i get to hear all the intricate details of her plot bunnies? but i digress. this fic is one of my all time fave sterek fics i’ve re-read it sooo many times. there’s just something about the heartache and stiles’ insecurity and the way he tries to shoulder it all on his own. and then there’s alli’s brilliant writing, the way she weaves through a scene and paints a picture just so and manages to tug at your heart strings with her precise word choice. there’s some amazing world building in this fic as it explores this other facet of the supernatural that canon teen wolf never touched upon, and i’m so grateful for that bc alli is the only one who should be allowed to write about ghosts and teen wolf together.

lagavulin and guinness by snarfle (10/10 | 163k+ | explicit) hartwin; slow burn; PTSD; suicidal thoughts; graphic depictions of violence; domestic abuse

plenty of people had looked down on eggsy throughout his life. he had gotten fairly used to it. didn’t mean it was fair, but he knew how these things worked. what really sucked was that the new arthur was worse than the old one.

“eggsy grimaced. he didn’t know how to explain to harry—who seemed like he hadn’t been discriminated against a day in his life—that the new arthur kept giving him what amounted to suicide missions, and that he was currently bleeding out in a warehouse because of the deliberately bad intel she had given him.”

also featuring: dean is harder to get rid of than eggsy thought, his mum is going off the deep end, there are way too many nefarious plots in play, and eggsy is really beginning to wish that harry would stop holding his hand and kiss him instead.

note: look, i know i recced this literally less than a week ago but i ALSO stayed up til 5AM re-reading this last night and it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g. i was on a bit of a kingsman kick earlier this year, so i’ve actually re-read this fic TWICE so far in 2020. i will give you a serious warning in that this fic delves deep into domestic abuse through the lens of a variety of different relationships. it also explores the potential for abuse in hartwin, bc this fic is one of the few that actually commits to the fact that they’re literal spies who murder people. actively. a lot. but seriously, this fic is one of my fave in the fandom and i STRONGLY recommend it.

waste of breath by bryrosea (1/1 | 22k+ | M) loganxveronica; canon compliant; missing scenes; navy; past child abuse

logan echolls, the nine years, and the navy.

note: bryrosea has an obscene number of amazing logan and veronica fics (her canon divergent series stay with me is another i re-read this year), but i’ve found myself returning to this fic a lot over the years. i’m a sucker for canon compliant fics that explore the missing scenes in between canon and this fic hits all the right buttons by diving deep into how logan echolls went from being a trash fire at hearst college at the end of s3 to being a decorated navy pilot by the movie. it explores logan seeking out therapy and making a life for himself that he can be proud of, all while pining after the girl who got away. and bc this author is amazing, she followed it up with a sequel from veronica’s point of view in the series done by only me.

the law of equivalent exchange by awed_frog (8/8 | 60k+ | M) destiel; POV castiel; pre-canon; post-canon; canon compliant; immortality; reincarnation

“and what’s the point of it?”

“of love? there isn’t one. loving is its own purpose.”

note: i mean??? i don’t really know what to say except that this is one of the truly most beautiful fics i have ever read. it follows castiel through time as he meets different reincarnations of sam and dean across history and falls ever more deeply in love. it is achingly tender and so ecstatically written that i die just thinking about it. and that summary? i mean. holy fuck break my heart why don’t you? i don’t know how i missed out on this fic for so long since it was published in 2015 but i only learned about it for the first time back in july and it was. life changing?? when the fic finally reaches the canon timeline and he meets THIS dean it’s peak yearning. 10/10 will read again.

ahead in the count by elisela (17/17 | 50k+ | E) sterek; AU: sports; pitcher!stiles; teacher!derek; long distance relationship; getting together

“yankee fan,” derek says, laughing when stiles makes a disgusted face. “the bronx bombers, stiles, you can’t be a new yorker and—”

“stop talking right now,” stiles sighs, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i still want to kiss you after that,” he says, pulling derek in by his coat. “this is making me rethink everything.”

“i’ll never watch them again,” derek promises, and stiles laughs against his mouth.

or: stiles is a starting pitcher for the NY mets when he meets and falls in love with derek. derek doesn’t know.

note: i read SO MANY of @elisela’s 911 fics this summer, which i loved, and then she got into teen wolf and started writing sterek and i just about died. this fic is amazing, one of my fave sterek AU’s that i’ve read in years. it’s just the right amount of drama and angst and fluff filled with all the joys of miscommunication and character relationships that makes reading sterek such a joy. reading this fic and finding out eli needed fic recs pushed me to dive back in to reading sterek fics for a bit this fall so i can say with the utmost authority that this is one of the best i’ve read in a long time.

i used to think one day we’d tell the story of us by notequitegucci (2/2 | 32k+ | M) gendrya; alternate universe—modern setting; outsider POV; friends to lovers; friends to lovers

9 times a stark encounters gendry + 1 time he meets the starks.

note: again, this is the first in a 2 part series titled love me like you do that explores arya and gendry’s dynamics together through the point of view of her family. game of thrones ended last year with a whimper but i keep returning to the gendrya tag on ao3 to seek out new, amazing content and also to re-read some old favorites. i can’t remember if i came across this for the first time last year or this one, but i’ve read it and re-read it more times than i can count since and i love it more than i can describe. i’m a total sucker for outsider POV fics and my biggest pet peeve in canon is the fact that none of the stark’s ever found out that arya and gendry had a history together. this modern au fic almost makes up for it by giving me a gendry encounter with every family member and then the big reveal. it’s peak content.

theeeeeeese recs got a little away from me. i wasn’t originally intending on adding lengthy notes to each entry but ... oh well!! these are all amazing so please enjoy.

fanfic end of the year asks

#lilolilyr #ask #if i knew an authors tumblr i tried to tag them in this #seriously my reclist got away from me for a bit #also if you're looking for 911 recs #like i said they will be in another ask where someone specified!!#fic rec #about kat writes

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smylealong · 4 years

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I have long debated whether or not I should write this, but @rain-hat convinced me that I should. So here I am, penning this diss meta about The King: The Enternal Monarch. Starting off with the disclaimer that I love this show. This is the show that introduced me to the wonderful Woo Do Hwan and for that I can never be thankful enough. But I have issues with the show, and I will enumerate them here. Brace yourselves for a tirade.It’s long, so putting a “keep reading”.

1) Manpasikjeok: Let’s start with the basis of the series. The Manpasikjeok. The series never delves into what the Manpasikjeok is. It’s a flute, yes. But it doesn’t delve into the background of this all-powerful plot device. I understand that the Manpasikjeok is a part of the Korean folklore and thus, probably the makers did not feel the need to delve deeper. But for non-Korean viewers like me, it was very confusing. So, before I speak about the details of what exactly bothered me about the flute, I will present the story itself.

After the death of his father King Munnu, King Sinmun of the Silla Dynasty heard the rumors of an island floating toward the temple that he had built in the honor of his father. A fortuneteller told Sinmun that the late King had become a sea dragon and his loyal General, Kim Yu-shin, had become a heavenly god. The fortuneteller also said that if he were to visit the island, he would get an incredible gift. When Sinmun went in search of this floating island, it looked like it had a turtle’s head and a bamboo tree on its back. In the mornings, the bamboo looked to be split into two while at night, it would join. After braving through seven days of storm, the King reached the island. There the sea dragon told him to make a flute out of the bamboo tree. This flute was said to provide magical properties. When the flute was played, enemy forces would retreat, and diseases were cured. Also, the magic flute would bring rainfall if there was a drought and stop the rains in floods. Ever since then, the bamboo flute was called ‘Manpasikjeok,’ meaning a flute that calms down ten thousand waves and it became a national treasure. This is the folktale.

If I am to nitpick, time travel and parallel universes are not mentioned in the folktale. But that is something I am willing to let slide, because you need something to make the story work and the makers chose a mythical object from the folklore. People do it all the time, so I am not going to penalize the makers for it. What I am going to diss them for is the way they spoke about the spirit of the flute. Was it a demon? A spirit? A god? What? Why did it not allow Lee Lim to age? If time passes differently for the owner of the flute as Lee Lim claims, why did Gon’s time seem normal for the most part? The only difference in time seemed to be when the portal was opened and time stopped. So, before Gon opened the portal, time did not stop for Lee Lim. Why then did he not age?

2) Post series events (part I): Which brings me to the second problem I have with the series. Post-series events. I understand Ta Eul retaining her memories of the alternate timeline because, she was in the portal and thus, remained untouched by the effects of the changed timeline. Fair. I get Gon retaining memories, because he was the owner of the flute. Granted. Why did Jo Yeong retain the memories when everyone else forgot about it? The only explanation I have is that it was because he was in the past timeline when the timeline changed? But the show never bothers to give an explanation for it. Also, if the events in altered timeline happened almost exactly as they did in the original timeline, then Yeong came to Republic of Korea. If Yeong came to Republic of Korea, then he met Jo Eun Sup. As did Gon. Why then did Eun Sup not recognize Gon at the end? Why does Yeong say that Eun Sup will not remember him? Is it because Yeong retained memories from the altered timeline and hence believed Gon when he said that he was going to the other world? Then, it stands to reason that Yeong did not go to Republic of Korea. Then things changed! They did not go exactly the way it happened in the series. Ah! My head hurts.

3) Corea and Korea: They are parallel worlds. I get it. But at times, they were nigh indistinguishable. This is @rain-hat’s input and I agree with it completely. Why are the people in Corea dressed like Westerners and why are we not seeing more Hanboks? Why are court ladies the only ones dressed in traditional garb? Also, what is the official religion of Corea?

4) The characters: This is going to be a long one, so brace yourselves. I have issues with the characters. I’m going for bullet points, because I have LOT TO SAY.

· Kang Shin-jae: Other than messing with him in all possible ways, what was the purpose of this character. As my editor once said, you must ask yourself what purpose does a character serve to the overall story? The litmus test of it being, if the said character is removed from the equation, does it impact the overarching plot of the story in any significant way? And much as I love this character, I’m sorry to say, his removal would not have impacted the story in any way. Yes, I’m aware that even Meyong Seung-ah does not pass this litmus test, but she does not occupy nearly as much screen time as Shin-jae. I wish they had utilized the character more than just use him as a material to evoke emotions.

· Koo Seo Ryeong: She is portrayed as a villain/b*tch. Why? Because she has political ambitions and is a woman who is not above playing the ruthless game that the men around her seem to be playing? She is a woman who has clawed her way to the top in a man’s world. Can we please stop demonizing women like this?

· Jo Yeong: Yes. Surprise, I know. He is the reason I (and many others) kept watching the show. The man who stole the show, the one who carried the show. A startlingly pretty face backed by a phenomenal performance, Jo Yeong is a treat. BUT, for a character as spectacular as Yeong, he was not utilized enough. I wish the show had actually given him something to do when he was in Korea. They wasted a talent like Woo Do Hwan.

· Jeong Ta-eul: I loved Ta-eul when she first came on screen. Badass, no nonsense, tough as nails cop in her thirties as out leading lady? HELL YEAH! But then she meets Lee Gon and all the things that I loved about her seemed to evaporate. She became a cry baby and I just could not handle that. K-dramas, can you please stop turning the badass female leads into a prop for the leading man’s “bravery and heroism”. (Fervently hoping Nine Tails doesn’t do that, because I love Jo Bo ah’s character there).

· Lee Gon: Oh, I hate this character with a passion. TKEM gave me SLS like no other drama before or since. I sincerely want to ask Lee Min Ho; just how many versions of Gu Jun Pyo are we going to see from him? Rich, powerful, privileged man who does whatever he wants? I’m getting really tired of it. I like Lee Min Ho, but really, you need to branch out, dude.

5) Post series events (part II): Speaking of Lee Gon, my man, you posses the all powerful tool to travel through parallel universes and time, and you use it to go on dates? WHAT THE F***? AAAHHGHHKSJJGFHVJHMDSYFHJVHKJNSKLJHG. Lee Lim was right. You’re WASTING it. Ugh. Personally, I felt as though the entire romance plot could have been done away with.

6) JoGon: The series teased heavily about this relationship and the fandom lapped it up. Beautiful fanart and fanfics emerged. But, I have issues and no, it’s not because they’re a same sex couple. My issue comes from the power dynamics of the couple. It is skewed beyond belief. The dynamic works perfectly when it is a king-bodyguard relationship. But the second it becomes a romance, there’s problem. All the power in the relationship is with Gon and Yeong has almost no agency in the relationship. And I love Jo Yeong too much to subject him to a relationship like that.

7) Product Placement: Yes, it was tough, but there was a series somewhere between all those product placements.

In closing, this series had the potential to be so much more. Yet, it failed. Spectacularly. I liked and enjoyed this series, but I have so many issues. SO MANY. Do you have any issues you would like to add? Please feel free.

#tkem meta #tkem

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echodrops · 4 years

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Home and a Half Pidge Headcanons

An ask I got yesterday reminded me that I never posted the HaaH headcanons for Pidge like I promised, so here they are! (I’ll answer the actual ask as soon as I can with some new material instead of headcanons I already had written... oops...)

Anyway, without further ado, some headcanons for Pidge related to my fic Home and a Half!

Pidge:

- Grew up in the picture of the nuclear family: mom, dad, two kids, dog, nice upper-middle-class house in a quiet neighborhood, dinner on the table at 7:30pm on the dot… Of all the paladins, Pidge had the most stable and “average” childhood… at least on paper.

- In reality, there is not a single person in the Holt family who isn’t eccentric as fuck. Grandma Holt? May or may not still be an active intelligence agent for MI6. The dog? Woofs in Morse code. Auntie Ariana? Has actually seen the Jersey Devil. Colleen Holt? Has killed a man. If you ask Pidge, she’ll say that her upbringing was perfectly normal and she’ll genuinely mean it, but this is a consequence Pidge having no idea what “normal” even means.

Rest under the read more to save your dash:

- Not actually a girly-girl when she was young. Although they’re eight years apart and thus unlikely to be mistaken for one another, very early on Pidge got frustrated by how similar she and Matt look, and she definitely did not want to wear his tacky hand-me-down clothes, so she pitched a royal fit and insisted on wearing dresses and hairbands so that her family would have to buy Pidge all her own things. (They probably would have bought them anyway if she’d just asked calmly, but Pidge was three at the time, and they were all very impressed by her grasp of cause and effect.)

- Of course, when Matt disappeared on the ill-fated Kerberos trip, those tacky hand-me-downs ended up being some of the most important items in Pidge’s life. Even outside of infiltrating Garrison, wearing Matt’s old clothes was one of the few comforts Pidge would allow herself—when she cut her hair and put on his baggy shirts, for a second, looking in a mirror, she could almost convince herself he was still there—

- Pidge has no intention of changing the way she dresses or styles her appearance until she’s reunited with Matt and her father. After that? Well, they may not be the coolest looking things ever, but Matt does have a point that baggy t-shirts are very comfy…

- And okay, because I’m sure everyone expected this headcanon first: Pidge and gender is a surprisingly uncomplicated subject. Side note before I go further: I’m sure everyone has their own headcanons for this and none of what I say here should be taken as rejecting or invalidating any other fan’s views on Pidge. The only thing invalid in the Voltron fandom is canon. Anyway, I personally like to imagine that Pidge is very ambivalent on gender. There is so much else going on—the war, Sam and Matt being missing, freaking giant robot space cats—that sitting down and sorting out the question of “Do I identify as male, female, nonbinary, or anything else?” is just really, really low on Pidge’s to do list. Pidge thinks of Pidge as “Pidge” and even that’s rare because Pidge doesn’t sit around thinking about herself or what other people think of her.

- In fact, what strangers think is, in general, extremely low on Pidge’s radar. Although she used to be more self-conscious due to bullying from both classmates and her teachers, the combination of her parents’ consistent support and Matt’s… extreme tactics (“I’m telling you Pigeon, nanobots in their lunches will solve all your problems.” “That’s illegal, Matt.” “Nothing is illegal until you get caught.”) Pidge (mostly) overcame the phase of being affected by other people’s opinions. Who cares what strangers think? Absolutely none of them will ever be even close to as smart and talented as her family anyway. (My IQ is three times yours, your argument about my gender is literally invalid.)

- By the way, I’m using “her” simply because that’s what I’m used to seeing in the fandom and to keep the fic and headcanons consistent, but in the functional world of HaaH, Pidge answers to any pronouns and doesn’t have a preference for any set in particular over others. In fact, Pidge is used to going by different sets of pronouns coming from different people, and might be “he” to one person, “she” to another, and “they” to yet someone else. Pidge is just… Pidge.

- Again, with the war and Voltron and missing family and literally everything else going on--and the fact Pidge is far more practical than all of the rest of her fellow Team Voltron members combined--she isn’t wasting time and energy doing something as troublesome as falling in love with an alien. (“Keith, can’t your melodrama wait until after we win the war?” “My drama waits for no man.” “Then please explain how you and Lance manage to engage in synchronized dumb-fuckery at least three times a week.”) Eventually, after life has settled down and Pidge has had some time to think about it, she’ll realize that the reason she somehow managed to avoid any romantic entanglements in space isn’t because she’s just much more mature than her teammates (although this might be true)—it’s that she’s just not really interested in romantic engagements with anybody, period.

- Pidge’s one true love is discovery; she feels far more passionate about knowledge and learning new things, encountering new puzzles, and grasping new concepts than she does about anything else. In between all her creations and codes and experiments and observations, it just doesn’t feel like there’s room—or that there needs to be room—for a romantic relationship with a real person.

- Pidge will make room for friends though, if and when they insist on worming their ways into her life. She tends to be a fairly private person who has never really had a large friend group (back on Earth, before Garrison, there wasn’t anyone but Matt and her parents who really understood her, and she didn’t have much in common to discuss with children her own age), but once someone earns Pidge’s trust, she does open up and form close bonds and she will give her all to help and be there for her few, but close, friends.

- Meeting Hunk at Garrison was a huge revelation. Up to that point in Pidge’s life she had never really met any young person outside her own family with a soaring genius-level IQ that was a match for her own. Although she and Hunk bicker frequently because their approaches to science are extremely different, she’s still over-the-moon to have someone who doesn’t stare at her like she’s talking gibberish whenever she goes off on one of her tangents.

- If you ask Pidge, she will violently swear up and down that Lance never and in. no. way. reminds her of Matt, fills in for Matt in the lame-older-brother role, or helps her miss her brother just a little bit less. That did not happen, never had a chance of happening, what are you even talking about—

- But if you ask about Shiro, she will be flat-out honest and admit she totally thinks of him as Space Dad. It’s not her fault. Shiro literally hero worships Sam Holt (still to this day!!) and may or may not have taken on more of his mentor’s mannerisms in order to fill the leadership role for Team Voltron. Sometimes Shiro will say or do something and Pidge will be absolutely dumb-struck because he got that from my dad is an actual thing she has to deal with.

- “Pidge” is actually a derivative of “Pigeon.” Everyone in the Holt family has a bird-based code name. Mr. Holt is Eagle Two.

- People often get the impression that Pidge is scatterbrained because she can talk about ten different things at once and pounces on leaps in her own logic that other people just can’t follow, but her thoughts and speech are very organized. It’s not her fault you couldn’t understand her system of organization if you tried.

- Put Pidge on the spot on a subject she doesn’t know, though, and watch the awkward jump right out. (“Oh, you meant the pop band Galileo, not the person. You know, that’s really an easy mistake to make. You can hardly blame me when you stop to consider all the similarities between modern chord progression and the trajectory of supermassive objects like—”)

- And if it’s not awkward, it’s defensive. Pidge may be hyper-intelligent, but she’s still very, very young, and it’s hard not to get snappish when challenged by people whose opinions she really does care about. She has a far quicker temper than Matt (who is a “revenge is a dish best served cold” champion), a trait she shares with their mother. Colleen, in turn, blames it on her having been born in New Jersey. Pidge has flipped so many tables on the Castleship that Coran and Lance eventually went around and bolted them all down.

- Do not even so much as hint that Sam and Matt Holt might be dead instead of just missing in space. Keith is still scared after his last attempt at reasoning with Pidge about her family’s fate.

- Has a bad hoarding habit. Back on Earth she had her parents there to insist she clean her room at least once a week, but in space, things are getting a bit crazy. The Castleship closets and cabinets can hyper-condense their contents and she’s STILL running out of room for all the neat doodads and parts and scientific wonders she finds on their adventures across the galaxy. Is definitely in the “Look, there’s still a mostly clear path to the door; it’s fineee” category. It’s not like she finds it hard to let things go once she’s gotten attached to them or anything. Nope. Definitely not.

- Pidge’s mess is absolutely of the “everything has a proper place” type though. Move anything with her name on it and you will feel her wrath.

- As the only one of the Earth paladins to have technology on her when they were unexpectedly swept off to war, everyone on the ship relies on Pidge’s laptop for their monthly dose of Earth nostalgia. Good thing for them Pidge and Matt’s pirating skills put Pirate Bay to shame, and she’s got basically every Earth movie from 1980 to the present. She even has every episode of the timeless classic F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (Keith hates that show with a burning passion that even he cannot explain.)

- Speaking of technology Pidge had on Earth—every single person in the Holt family is (and has been for decades) aware of the existence of aliens. Pidge’s family tree has been involved in communications, radio wave technology, and interpreting space observations since those fields were first invented. When Earth first identified patterns of waves that obviously corresponded to alien communications going on outside Earth’s galaxy, Pidge’s great- great- grandfather was there. When world governments covered up the discovery, he was the loudest voice of dissent. Since then, the Holt family has been deeply involved in military and space operations across several countries, operating from within an oppressive system they fundamentally disagree with, using their positions of authority to monitor the Milky Way and beyond, keeping tabs on what the aliens might be saying—and what messages Earth might be inadvertently sending back.

- Of course this is top secret work—secret even from the Garrison and government where the Holts were employed. Other kids learn how to play piano and soccer; Pidge and Matt learned how to hack virtually impenetrable military databases and hide their data behind uncrackable ciphers instead.

- But the Kerberos Mission was supposed to be safe. They’d all monitored the chatter so closely—there hadn’t been anything hostile anywhere even near Earth’s galaxy, no sign at all of any technologically advanced race like the Galra in years and nothing about one little Earth mission that would disturb any other intergalactic travelers anyway… Why would they...

- Pidge is surprisingly athletic for a self-professed nerd. With youthful energy to burn and a family to save, Pidge took to Allura and Coran’s intense Altean training like a duck to water, and while she’s not quite Shiro or Keith when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, she can definitely holds up better than Hunk or Lance.

- Favorite color is actually yellow, and if Green wasn’t totally The Coolest™ lion, she’d be sort of salty about Hunk getting the Yellow Lion instead.

- Absolutely capable of cursing up a blue storm, and hasn’t been friends with Hunk quite long enough yet to remember to censor herself around him all the time like Lance does with his “Holy crow!”s. She’s trying, dammit!

- Big on pets. Gets attached to pet-shaped creatures (whether living or robotic) very easily. 110% kept the space caterpillars, who live happily free-roaming the piles of space junk in her bedroom. The space caterpillars and the space mice do not get along, however, as the space mice do not take well to having their status as the favored fuzzy team mascot squad threatened. In their micro-Cold War, which is occurring without any of the ship’s humanoid occupants being aware, the space caterpillars are currently winning.

- The caterpillars’ names are Copernicus, Kepler, and Newton.

- Remember that one post about Lance drawing angry brows on the space caterpillar and siccing it on Keith? I very much accept that as canon. Pidge was Not Happy™ when she found out what Lance had done and she is NOT letting anyone else near her caterpillars again any time soon. Is very, very careful not to let Niresh see the space caterpillars so that they don’t end up stolen right from under her nose.

- Speaking of the kids, Pidge is super awkward with them and skedaddles at the first sign of tears. Next to Allura, there is probably not any member of the team worse suited to babysitting duty. That said, as someone who has lost members of her family in the war, Pidge is probably the member of the team who most directly understands Dulsara’s anger and the children’s loss. That doesn’t mean she’s really ready to let herself sympathize with the Galra though, at least not until she finds her own family first.

- Pulls all the most bullshit moves in Monsters and Mana. Whenever the team reminiscences on the truly legendary moments from their campaigns, somehow Pidge is the star in all of them.

And that’s all I’ve got for now!

#pidge #Voltron #Pidge headcanons #voltron headcanon #HaaHVLD #Home and a Half #voltron fanfic

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sasskarian · 4 years

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Fanfic Masterpost ... sort of

In honor of Fanfic Appreciation, I put together a list of my fics for anyone who’d like to look

Under the cut, because length

Dragon Age:

After the Glitter Fades (Glitterverse): Hawke x Fenris, modern AU. (Long fic, WIP) Hawke and Fenris are movie stars in a torrid love affair. Fenris has a mysterious past. Also Cassandra is investigating a murder mystery? Varric, as ever, is a delight. (*this is borrowed from @nug-juggler‘s excellent and shorter summary!)

Memorable quote: Fenris observed candidly was something sacred. For a moment, Hawke fiercely wished she were an artist. The scene in front of her was too… every word she could think of— beautiful, elegant, breathtaking— was trite, a pale description of perfection.

In the Heart of the Woods: Lavellan x Fairbanks rarepair. (WIP) Inquisitor Lavellan’s heart is broken by a certain Commander, Fairbanks has an appreciation for her, and a love story blooms like elfroot in the Emerald Graves.

Memorable quote: This kiss, she thinks, two mouths moving in perfect unison, is a spell of its own. Not quite love, not yet, but close enough she can pretend it is. Hope wells up, a solid thrum beating in counterpoint to her heart, and for one perfect moment, the world just bows down and… stands still. All that exists, all that ever has existed or ever will exist is wrapped up right here, right now, in Fairbanks’ lips on hers. Motes of dust turn golden in the sunbeams splashing through the roof, and a touch— his thumb, her cheek— says a million more words than words ever could.

Yesterdays: Surana x Zevran, mild Surana x Alistair pining. Post Origins, complete. A Warden’s sacrifice means something only as long as someone remembers it. A king looks back, balancing regrets with happiness.

Memorable quote: With a half-sob, he realizes he’s forgotten the sound of her voice. Oh, he remembers how it made him feel, all those years ago, all the glorious, shining moments where happiness dwells still. But what she truly sounded like, what sounds she made as she buried herself in books, the snap of her magic, the low buzz of her and Zevran whispering in their tent, all of that is gone. He knows it happened, but the memory is lit dimly in his mind, a torch burned too low to be flame but not low enough for embers yet.

If You Ever Did Believe (for my sake): Lavellan x Cullen. (On temporary hiatus) A wary Commander. A lost Dalish mage. Two hearts beating alone and exhausted on a battlefield, their only rest coming from each other.

Memorable quote: “Does your Maker hate us so much?” Isera asked bitterly, and for a moment, Cullen felt as though years had rippled, bringing his past self— still clanking through the halls of Kinloch Hold in Templar plate— and his current together. He’d asked Ser Greagoir the same question once, after a Harrowing went wrong and the body of a former apprentice lay at their feet. So much potential wasted, so much fear in the mages’ eyes after that. For once, Greagoir had shown a hint of emotion, clapping Cullen’s shoulder briefly before walking away, but hadn’t answered.

Voiceverse: Lavellan x Solas/Dread Wolf. (WIP) Building off of the great works of @khirsahle and @athreehundredthirtythree. All mages are born with a soulmate--a voice they hear in the darkness of the Fade all their lives. The lucky ones find their soulmates and forge a bond strong enough to threaten the very foundations of the Chantry. At least, that's what they claim. So what happens when a Dalish mage hears the voice of their most reviled and feared god shaping her dreams?

Memorable quote: Accompanying the thundering voice, great fissures ruptured around her hiding spot, green light streaking upward as they gathered into a roiling cloud. A wave of raw sound— howls, cries, pleas— rolled over her, forcing her to her knees. Iveani clapped her hands over her ears, losing her own scream among the agony thundering through the Fade. All caution, all her hard-won lessons about walking the Fade, vanished into the back of her mind under the need to simply ride out the explosion and survive.

Mass Effect:

Home is Where You Are: Ryder x Jaal (WIP). Ryder didn’t cross two galaxies and 600 years in search of love. But damn if she didn’t find it anyway.

Memorable quote: “I should take a shower,” he mumbled, as the same time as Sara said, “Would you like to stay?” Both of them broke off, staring at the other, and she laughed nervously. That feeling was back, the one from the tech lab, fragility and strength and affection turned fierce and bright tumbling over and over one other.

A Song of Sea and Stars: Garrus x Shepard x Thane (WIP). Our favorite turian badboy sees right through the mask the galaxy’s most famous Commander projects. Neither of them expected to fall in love on a host of impossible missions. And both are taken by surprise by a pious Drell who steals both their hearts.

Memorable quote: (He opens his eyes, shocked how it feels to look into her face, intimate and hungry. He hazily notices that up close, her eyes are thulium-gray. There's a hot, tight knot in his chest and she's pressed so close, he thinks he could count each faint freckle on her face.) (They look like tiny stars.) (…there are twenty-eight on her right cheek. Thirty on her left. And fourteen, right across the bridge of her nose.) (Those are his favorite. They remind him of his own markings.)

the sound of shattering glass: Generic Shepard, post-Tuchanka, pre-Citadel II. The Shroud explodes, taking a beloved friend with it. Shepard only has herself to blame.

Memorable quote: “Damn Reapers,” he said, striving for nonchalance. “Always throwing us around.” “Banged us up pretty good,” she agreed, and he knew she wasn’t talking about their bumps and bruises. “So what do we do about them?” “Get back on our feet. Keep fighting.” Garrus hummed as she shifted closer, pressed her forehead against his neck. “Maybe find a way to use some really big canons I spend half my time adjusting.”

Star Wars:

He Might Like That: Mandalorian x Cara Dune pining. So they argue. So they took down Gideon, and have a magic green frog baby older than both of them. That doesn’t make them a thing. Does it?

Memorable quote: He tunes back into the not-so-friendly argument in time to hear Greef splutter. “You trash talked while holding hands! If that’s not flirting, I’m a kowakian monkey lizard.” “It was arm wrestling, not holding hands,” Din points out mildly.

Star by Star: Post TRoS. Ben x Rey pining, Finn x Rey x Poe. Can three hopeless idiots in love fill a wound as deep as the death of a dyad? Maybe not, but they’re out to try anyway.

Memorable quote: “You know,” Poe whispers, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “if we ever did tell him we loved him, he’d probably sleep right through it.” Rey touches her fingers to his lips, tracing the shape of his questioning smile. It’s an invitation to play, that smile. A careful offer of love, of comfort. And though she’s not sure if he can really understand when even she doesn’t, she’s finally ready to try a little.

Counting The Days (Since Exegol): Finn x Rey x Poe, Ben x Rey. Its been 42 days since Palpatine’s death. 42 long days since she felt the surge of light in Ben Solo. And in her dreams, something whispers on the edge of the Force. But she’s shut it down too tightly to hear it.

Memorable quote: True to form, Poe can’t resist the urge to kiss away Finn’s troubles whenever possible, and Rey looks away to give them a moment. Some love stories work out, yes, and she loves Finn and Poe more than almost anything else. But that doesn’t stop the way bitterness floods her mouth as the memory of Ben surfaces, and it isn’t until Poe gently squeezes her knee (and she throttles back the near-instinctive urge to break his fingers from a lifetime of fending off handsy scavengers on Jakku) that she comes back to the moment. His brow furrows and she reaches for him, smoothing out the lines of his frown with her thumb. “I’m okay,” she says, answering his unspoken question. It’s mostly a lie, but she has to say it. Most days, she’s okay enough.

A Language Made for Lovers: SWTOR (NSFW). Torian Cadera x Bounty Hunter, gender neutral. Reflections on love and marriage under the glow of hyperspace.

Memorable quote: He murmurs in your ear, words that should sound harsh in that still-new tongue scalding your mouth, molding you from aruetii to mandalorian. But the love in his voice softens them, steeps them in warmth and adoration. Still the language of a hunter, of those brave souls willing to be reforged, but with a gentle side, a language reserved for lovers. Words like cyare and riduur, words that mean I love you and forever and home.

Malicious Compliance: SWTOR (NSFW). Malavai Quinn x Sith Warrior, gender neutral. Far away, in an apartment no one knows about, a Sith Lord plays dire games of control... and trust.

Memorable quote: It takes a man with the courage of an entire fleet of Mandalorians to love a Sith, and oh, how he loves you. Like you hung the moons and the stars and all the spaces between. Like you are his other half, like loving you is his sole purpose in life, does Malavai Quinn love you. Your old masters spoke nothing of this, of this enraging hunger gnawing at your bones and curling into the hollows of your rib cage. ... Is it really even love if you don’t want to devour him just a little?

Misc:

Tumblr Prompts: Grab bag of every fandom and series listed above. Prompts filled originally here on tumblr.

Visual Files: Collections of art and commissions from talented friends and artists here on tumblr.

Every Beautiful Thing: Crimson Peak. Thomas x Edith, Edith x Alan. Edith learned, in the dark halls of Allerdale, not to take ghosts lightly. But still she waits, every year, for a chance to see Thomas again. Until the night their son tells her he can see him too.

Memorable quote: Snow heralds nothing but pain in Edith’s world: first her mother’s funeral, smothered in fat white flakes wet on her lashes like tears, then her father’s. Smaller ones, then, rain slowly freezing and scattering on the ground; the ones that night at Allerdale were the smallest yet, more ice pellet than snow. Jagged, hateful things scraping at her with a cold that burned through skin and encased bone.…God, how she has come to hate the snow.

Where I Can’t Follow: Co-authored by @suspendnodisbelief. show!Witcher, mild Geralt x Jaskier. (Temporary hiatus) Drawing from a variety of inspiration, including greek mythos. Geralt takes a blow meant for Jaskier, finally granted the death by battle he expects Witchers to end by. And Jaskier is not having it, at all. It’s his turn to save Geralt, even if he has to walk the entire bloody underworld to do it.

Memorable quote: “Geralt, get up. Come on, open your eyes. You’re going to upset Roach if you keep this up, and she’ll bite me. You know you aren’t allowed to be dead, because Yennefer didn’t give you permission, and neither did the Princess, and I’m pretty sure they both outrank you.”

#dragon age #Mass Effect #star wars #the mandalorian #the witcher #crimson peak #swtor #my fic #fanfic writer appreciation day

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spiderman-homecomeme · 4 years

Text

day seven - pull-out p.2

ONLY ONE BED

A/N: Well, here we are friends. It’s time to say goodbye to spideychelle week. But really, when you think about it, isn’t the real spideychelle week the friends we made a long the way?

Okay, but for real, this has been so fun!! Both writing and seeing all the creations made by our talented fandom! Thank you again @spideychelleweek for putting this together <3 Till next year

There’s stuff in this fic that’s pretty new for me, as I’ve never written explicit smut before, and it’s something I’ve been thinking about trying for a while. So, I figured Spideychelle Week would be the best time!

Without further procrastination on my part: enjoy some 6.3k of cow facts that will impress your friends, Peter being a mess, MJ being a mess, everyone’s a mess, smut, and ONLY. ONE. BED.

Read here on AO3

“Hey, uh, MJ.”

Peter’s voice is hushed as he gently nudges her.

She mumbles and stirs, blinking sleepily at him as she returns to a vague form of something akin to consciousness.

“MJ.” His hand brushes her arm once more, leaving a certain warmth that she can’t quite place. “We’re here.”

Sure enough, there’s a faint glow coming from the porch light ahead, though it’s entirely too bright for one o’clock in the morning. MJ sits up in her seat, yawning as she stretches her arms out in front of her. Her eyelids droop for another moment as she goes to unbuckle her seat belt, and she can just barely hear the opening of the driver’s side door as Peter climbs out of the old Volvo.

“You don’t need me to carry you in do you?” Peter’s gently teasing voice cuts through her sleep-raddled mind.

Apparently he’s done being a weirdo.

The thought of being held against her best friend’s chest flashes through her mind, fleeting, but it’s there alright. She shakes it away almost as quickly as it appears. She cracks an eye open, quirking an unimpressed brow at him as he leans against the door frame with a stupid little smirk on his face.

“Fuck off,” she groans.

Something in the way he shakes his head with a snort of a nervous-sounding laugh causes her stomach to flip, filling with butterflies.

Again, she simply brushes it off.

But then, watching him pop open the trunk, his shirt riding up a little as he lifts the lid, she wonders if he’s thinking about the way their hands touched in the car as much as she is. It was a soft touch, warm, and in a way, inexplicably familiar. Though, as much as it made her heart seize, Michelle’s not sure why she didn’t just pull her hand away.

Then again, Peter didn’t pull away either.

It’s dangerous territory, this kind of thinking. “Do you think there’ll be any cows on the beach?” She asks through a yawn, a teasing lilt to her tone.

Peter barely glances back at her, scoffing. “Shut up.”

A smirk pulls at her lips.

They grab their things from the car, MJ feeling as though she’s moving through quicksand as she gathers her bearings, trying to get a feel for her “land legs” after sitting for so long. The walk to the front porch feels like a half-marathon, and it feels even longer as Peter struggles to remember the door code to get in.

Finally, after a nearly eight hour drive after class, they step inside the small beach cottage.

The house is silent and dark, the only light coming from a lamp in the kitchenette. Ned and Betty must have gone to sleep hours ago, there being practically no sign of life in the house except for the few dishes in the sink. There’s a note on the counter, from Betty giving them instructions for the wifi, the tv, and of course, how to work the shower.

MJ can feel herself once again falling closer and closer into the welcome embrace of sleep. She doesn’t waste any more time, nearly pushing past Peter as she heads for the open door to their bedroom. She can hear him laugh behind her, and she bites back her own smile when he calls out a soft, good-humored, “hey!”

But as they both step into the room, they’re met with a rather strange surprise.

When Betty had told them about this house, she had sworn up and down that there was room for four people to sleep. Two bedrooms, three beds. One for her and Ned, two for Peter and MJ. It was simple.

Here, however, in this dark, moonlit room at one in the morning, there’s only one, full-sized bed.

One bed, and a single, dark leather loveseat.

The silence that falls between them almost crushes their shoulders under its weight. MJ can practically hear the collective overthinking they’re about to do.

“You can take the bed—” They both say simultaneously.

Peter immediately cuts in. “Uh, you—you should take it,” he insists, his lips stretching into a sheepish grin as he scratches the back of his neck.

“No, it’s fine,” MJ replies, setting her backpack down next onto the leather sofa, flinching at the way the fabric squeaks under the weight of her things. “I can take the couch. You take the bed.”

“No, no,” Peter repeats back to her. “Seriously, I’m cool with it. Plus,” He continues, putting his own bag down next to hers and ignoring how the squeaky leather groans again. “Being Spider-Man, I’ve gotten pretty used to sleeping literally anywhere. Just one of my many talents,” he cracks a joke, his almost timid grin wreaking havoc on her insides. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve woken up on the side of a building.”

She quirks a doubting brow in his direction, though the corner of her lips twitch upward.

“For real,” Peter pushes. “I’m cool with it. The super-speedy healing will help with the lumpy couch.”

Her lips purse as she lets out a quiet hum. She’s quiet for a moment, her brows pinching together. “It does make sense,” she finally nods.

Peter smiles.

“I mean, you are the short one,” she teases.

“Hey!” He fights to get rid of his smile as he shoves her playfully. “Only by, like, two-inches.”

Their shared laughter dies for a moment, and they’re left alone in the quiet, dim room.

MJ wants to roll her eyes, even though she’s beginning to feel that same, creeping awkwardness from earlier. “Why—” She clears her throat, telling herself that it’s only so she can get the tired scratchiness out of her voice. “Why don’t we just both take it? We’re adults. And friends. We can share. Besides,” she pauses, her eyes drifting to the bed in question, a strange yet not entirely unwelcome heat rising to her cheeks. “It’s not a queen, but we could both fit.”

“No,” Peter spits out, perhaps a little too quickly. A faint blush falls across his face, and he coughs again, rocking back on his heels. He huffs out a breathy laugh. “No… You—You really don’t wanna share a bed… with… with me. I—” He chuckles. “I’m a huge—HUGE—blanket hog. And, like… I always try to cuddle whoever’s in bed with me—not that… I’m ever in bed with a lot of people… or I mean—random people. Just—”

Throughout his rambling, Michelle starts to really feel that now annoying, almost tingling warmth even more, the same one she’s been feeling since this damn trip started. She shifts on her feet, trying not to think about what it might feel like to have Peter’s body pressed up against her, snuggling up to get warm, in that very bed.

It alarms her just how quickly she thinks that, yes, she would really like that. Very much.

“—I guess I get cold at night? I don’t know, every trip for decathlon in high school, Ned would always complain if he had to share a bed with me at one of the hotels.”

His quiet laughter fills the room around them, and MJ can’t help but notice the correlation between that sound and the speed at which those stupid stomach-butterflies’ wings flap.

“—I honestly don’t know where I get it? I mean, I slept with a teddy bear until I was thirt—”

“—Okay, fine!” MJ sets him free from his rambling, a tired laugh hiding under her words. “You take the couch. I’ll take the bed.”

Peter nods, lips pressing together into a thin, yet slightly triumphant smile as he goes to move the bags off of the loveseat.

After a beat, he speaks again, chuckling quietly. “We made that a lot harder than it needed to be.”

MJ can’t help but let out a snort. “Yeah, probably.”

“Well, uh—” He coughs to hide the jittery waver of his voice. “I guess I’ll get the couch ready.”

“Sounds—sounds good,” Michelle exhales a sharp breath through her nose, a twitch of a grin appearing on her lips. She lamely throws a thumb over her shoulder. “I’ll—I’ll just go get ready for bed. In the bathroom. Yeah,” she adds, toying with the loose threads at the hem of her t-shirt.

He looks up from his bag, brows raised, eyes dopey and sleepy. “Oh, cool. Okay. I’ll—” He clears his throat again. “I’ll use it after you.”

“Cool,” she mutters without another glance, looking down at her feet as she grabs her toiletry bag and a new t-shirt and sleep shorts, before practically sprinting out of the room and into the hall. She doesn’t stop until she gets to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. Relief is the one thing she can feel in that instance, yet her breath is still stuck in her throat. Closing her eyes, she runs her hands over her weary, yet tingling face.

God, what was wrong with her?

The icy floor of the bathroom tile does nothing to cool the warmth radiating from her head to her toes. With another quick, sharp exhale she moves to the sink, splashing her face with cold water. She looks up after a beat, staring—borderline, glaring—at herself in the mirror.

Get it together, MJ, she thinks to herself, mouth setting in determination.

One weird road trip, one single hand touch in the car, one glimpse of abs, one bed, and one over active imagination; the key ingredients to begin the process of breaking Michelle Jones.

But she won’t let that happen. No, she absolutely will not. Sure, Peter’s probably one of the best people she’s ever known, and sure, he’s funny—sometimes, mostly on accident—and sure, he’s got the body of an olympic gymnast, and she can’t get the image out of her mind that olympian bod wrapped around her in bed, but none of that means anything. Anything at all.

None of it’s relevant to how she feels right now. And none of that changes anything about how this night—this trip—is going to go.

Yes, maybe she’s had this stupid crush on her stupid best friend for some stupid amount of time.

But again.

It’s not relevant here.

She’s just had a weird day. That’s it. She’s tired. She needs to sleep.

Forcing any and all thoughts concerning the boy in the next room, she starts her nightly routine; brushing her teeth, washing and moisturizing her face, the basics, not rushing anything. She takes her time changing her clothes, perhaps a little longer than normal. But again, she tells herself it’s only because she’s tired—not at all that she’s avoiding going back to the room where Peter is. When she runs out of things to do to procrastinate going back, she brings herself to the mirror again, staring at herself with almost disappointment.

But then, she steels herself. She didn’t need to be freaking out right now. Peter’s just a person. He’s just her best friend. They’ve had plenty of sleepovers before, and this is no different. And besides, they’re sleeping in two separate places, so really, all of this inner turmoil is pointless. Nothing’s going to happen.

And really, why should she be freaking out about the guy who read her cow facts for a solid thirty minutes of their trip?

With a solid, resolute nod, lips pressed tightly together, she exits the bathroom and goes back down the hall, opening their bedroom door without a second thought.

Big mistake.

Big BIG mistake.

She really should have waited maybe five more seconds, because when the door swings open, Peter’s standing there in just his boxers, his head caught in his t-shirt as he pulls it on, chest and abs just out and ready to go.

Big mistake—that absolutely doesn’t mean anything.

It suddenly becomes very confusing to MJ why the Brant’s would have the thermostat set at eighty degrees.

Michelle decides that there’s a very interesting spot on the wall just above his head.

Peter pulls the shirt the rest of the way on, his eyes widening when he sees his friend just standing there. “Oh, uh, hey.” A not-cute-at-all unforgiving blush rises to his cheeks, spreading to the very tips of his ears.

They both huff out an awkward laugh.

“Uh—” Michelle finally meets his gaze, finding it damn near impossible to go back to her spot on the wall now. “Bathroom’s—bathroom’s open.”

The chuckle that comes out of him is breathy. “Cool. I’ll just—go use it, then.”

“Yeah.”

She waits until the door closes behind him to smack herself on the forehead. Groaning, she flops herself on the bed, covering her face again.

These feelings have always been here, she knows that, she’s not dumb; but they’ve never been this intense and the way he’s been acting all day and in the past fifteen minutes hasn’t been much help at all. She wonders if he’s been so strange because he’s feeling those things, too. She’s seen that guy hopelessly in love, and it’s always looked kind of like what he’s doing tonight, but…

This feels like a whole new level of loser.

Truly, she has no idea how she’s going to get through the night.

But maybe—

No.

No. She’s not going to think about this any more. She’s going to go to bed before he gets back. That way, she doesn’t have to talk to him or see him. She’ll sleep, and then they can just hang out tomorrow. With Ned and Betty. Not alone.

As long as their not alone, she’ll be fine.

She gets up to shut the overhead light off before turning the bedside lamp on, passing a brief glance to the loveseat turned bed across from her. Shaking her head, she pulls back the blankets and settles into her own bed.

When Peter returns, the room is dim, Michelle scrolling mindlessly on her phone. She wonders if she appears a little too casual for comfort, but she shakes that thought away as the door clicks shut behind him.

Peter’s silent as he settles into the couch, the leather groaning and squealing loudly under his movement. The noise cuts through the air, causing them both to freeze for a moment. He grins sheepishly as he nestles further under his blanket, his face becoming only partly visible.

Michelle doesn’t say anything as she turns to the bedside lamp and switches it off.

The room becomes blanketed in dark, and it takes a moment for their eyes to adjust. The air feels heavy; soul-crushing, even. It’s deathly quiet, and Michelle’s almost a hundred percent positive that Peter can hear her breathing and the way her heart’s beating like an out-of-time snare drum.

She closes her eyes, willing her mind and body to return to that feeling in the car, before she started having this weird, sudden existential crisis. And to some degree, it starts to work. She counts, starting at one, hoping that having her mind focus on something other than the current situation might help. Her mind starts to drift, her counting switching to random, sleep-induced thoughts, and her body starts to feel heavy, sinking further into the fluffy mattress—

EER-ER-EEEP

But she’s startled, yanked back to reality by the loud squeaking of Peter tossing and turning on the loveseat.

Once again, the deafening silence returns, but Michelle doesn’t say anything, annoyed, but still electing to just ignore it. All he’s doing is getting comfortable. No reason to attack him for that.

It’s quiet again, and for the second time, she closes her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Minutes go by, and she’s finding it harder and harder to get that feeling back. The counting from one doesn’t work this time, her brain immediately crossing to the Peter lane that’s always there. The thoughts and feelings from earlier in the day and in the bathroom flood right back—especially seeing him mid-putting-a-shirt-on—and it suddenly becomes too hot to be under so many blankets.

Trying not to let even the tiniest bit of frustration show, she flips onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, subtly scooting a little closer to the wall to be as far away from her problem as possible. Drawing in a long, deep breath, she closes her eyes again.

It’s quiet again, the silence that fills the room bringing the mood back to what might be serene if she weren’t so stressed out. She focuses on her breathing, on slowing her heart beat to a semi-normal rate, pushing any and all thoughts about Peter Parker out of her head—

EP-EEEEER-EP

EEER-EEP

Peter groans from his place on the couch as he turns on his side, cutting the silence of the room with his restlessness.

There’s a moment where she thinks that he’s finished, that he’s finally settled.

ER-EP

And instantly, the moment is gone.

“Peter,” she almost hisses.

“Sorry!” Peter whispers back. “I can’t—ugh… get comfortable. It’s like there’s a giant metal rod just… Stuck right in my back.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, sighing as she turns over on her side, facing away from him. If anything, as annoyed at his noisy fidgeting as she is, she can see the silver lining—being angry at him is a nice distraction from whatever the hell the other feeling is—illness, pining, lust, she doesn’t know. At least now she can just focus on how much of a pain in the ass he’s being.

She does feel sorry for him, of course. The couch hadn’t looked all that comfortable when they walked in, and a loveseat isn’t a good option for anyone, no matter how tall or super-powered they are. It would have been much easier for them both if he had agreed to just share with her. It’s not like it’s that big of a deal.

(It is.)

It’s not like all she’d be able to think about would be his hand next to hers, the warmth of his body lulling her into a homey comfort.

Nothing like that at all.

Feelings for her best friend aside, she’d be more than able to share a full-sized bed—that’s really meant for only one person—with him. But then, she thinks about how much—how quickly, he’d rejected the idea, and then she deflates. He’d been so defensive, so insistent. So—

EEEEEEEE-EEEP

Michelle can hear him suck in a breath, bracing himself.

“Oh, my GOD.” She whisper-shouts into the pitch black room, grabbing her pillow and pushing her face into it.

“I’m sorry!” Peter matches her tone, sitting up before throwing himself back against the cushions.

No. She will not listen to this all night. She’s had enough.

If’s she going to get any sleep at all—

Peter sits up again, listening as MJ starts rustling around on the bed. “What—What are you doing?” He asks carefully.

“Scooting over.” She snaps.

“What? Why?”

“Just get in the bed, Parker.”

“Wha—what?” Even in the dark of the room, Michelle can practically see the blush fall over his entire face.

She scoots closer to the wall, huffing indignantly. “Because I don’t wanna have to listen to that all night. I’d like to sleep at some point, if that’s okay with you.”

It takes a moment for Peter to respond, and at first, Michelle thinks—worries—that she’s taken a step too, far.

But then, the couch squeaks again as Peter stands hesitantly.

“...Are you—Are you sure?” He asks, his voice coming closer, her heart leaping into her throat.

Despite the rush of blood roaring in her ears, she holds her ground. “God, yes! Just get over here already,” she whispers again, opening the blanket for him to get in.

She can hear the hesitation in his silence, but she’s surprised when the bed dips beside her. His hand brushes her arm as he crawls under the blanket and settles into the mattress. When he settles in, he keeps a respectable distance, clinging as close to the side as possible. It’s certainly a tight fit, even with both of them as close to their respective ends of the bed as they can possibly get, and although he’s almost falling off the edge, she can still feel the his warmth.

And then, they both lie there for what seems like hours, each holding their breath, neither one daring to speak, neither one truly settled.

Michelle tries moving, turning away from him, though it doesn’t help much. He’s still too close; she can still feel him right next to her.

It’s not fair, she thinks. It’s really not.

Though she’s not all that surprised; she shouldn’t be. This is exactly what the both of them had been avoiding.

Michelle shifts again before sighing in defeat.

“What’s wrong?” Peter asks as he turns on his side, his quiet, soft, sleepy voice so incredibly close. She shivers.

“Can’t sleep,” she says, nestling further into her pillow.

On instinct, she turns back around to face him.

Perhaps a mistake.

His face is mere inches from hers, her breath catching in her throat. If the lights were on, she’s sure she could count every freckle on his nose. He quickly pulls back to give her another centimeter of space. “Sorry,” he whispers, the sheepish grin on his face audible.

“It’s fine,” She breathes out, albeit a bit shakily, as she rolls over onto her back again.

Her hand falls to the middle of the bed, but she yanks it back when her pinky brushes his. “Sorry,” she says, huffing out a laugh at herself.

Peter rolls onto his stomach, his face turning to her as he rests his head on his pillow. “You’re good,” he mumbles groggily, his eyelids drooping with every passing second. “This is so much comfier.”

She smiles, a warm fluttering in her stomach as she looks over at him. His breathing deepens slowly, and soon, she can tell that he’s fast asleep.

He could fall asleep anywhere, he said.

Anywhere except for a loveseat.

Sleep doesn’t seem to want to come as easily to Michelle. She still tosses and turns, feeling herself drifting in and out of the first stage, never fully asleep and never fully awake, staying in that torturous limbo in between for what feels like a whole-ass eternity.

When a solid-ish form of rest finally comes, it’s gone before she has a chance to realize. She opens her eyes again, seeing the hint of the beginning of morning light through the single window in their room. Craning her neck up from her pillow she looks over Peter’s sleeping form and at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

4:48 AM.

She falls back against her pillow with a frustrated huff.

“You okay?”

If she weren’t so sleep deprived, Peter’s soft voice so suddenly awake and beside her would have made her jump. Instead, she passes him a fleeting glance before rubbing her one of her eyes with a knuckle.

“Can’t sleep,” she says again, just as she had earlier.

Peter rolls on his side to face her fully, his arm tucked under his pillow, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line. “Do you want more cow facts?”

Her laugh cracks, voice worn from a lack of sleep. “No. No. I’m good. Thanks, though.”

“I’m gonna get you more cow facts.”

“Peter—”

But he’s already reaching for his phone on the table, turning back to face her after typing into his google search. His face glows blue from the light, and she can’t help the way her lips tug upward at his look of fierce concentration.

“Okay, you can pick—”

She stares up at the ceiling.

“—27 Amazing Cow Facts That Will Impress Your Friends, or—get ready for this—”

She will not look at him.

“Are you ready?” He doesn’t wait. “10 ‘Udderly’ Fascinating Facts About Cows.”

“Peter—” She warns, her grin hiding nothing, as she turns on her side to face him.

“Pick!” He insists, his quiet voice full of mischief and excitement. “You gotta.”

Her eyes narrow. “Neither.”

“Okay, we’re going punny,” He decides for her. “Did you know that cows cause more deaths than sharks per year? Crazy right? Where’s Cow Week then, huh?” He scrolls further upon earning no response besides a deadpan stare. “You ever wondered why Cows moo? Well, these moos are the pick-up lines of the cattle world. Bulls and cows let each other know that they are ready to, in the words of a bovine Marvin Gaye, get it on.”

“I hate you.”

“Cows can see three-hundred-sixty degrees. Kinda like chameleons—HEY!”

Before he can even finish the fun fact, her hand shoots out to yank his phone out of his hands. His reflexes are much fast, and he holds it away over the edge of the bed.

“No more cow facts!” MJ hisses as she reaches over him, her arm laying across his chest, in an attempt to snatch his phone and throw it across the room. “No more!”

Peter lets out a breathy laugh, and it’s then, when he just drops his phone, that she realizes how close their faces are; his nose just barely brushing hers, his breath fanning her face. They stay like that a moment, her hand unconsciously smoothing over the fabric of his t-shirt, unable to tear her gaze from his.

Almost instantly she pulls back, muttering out a sorry.

But she doesn’t fully move away, and neither does he.

There’s a moment, one where it all just suddenly clicks—where it all falls neatly into place, like that last, perfect piece in Tetris—and it’s when she finally lets herself look right at him; when she sees that tiny, shy smirk on his face; when she sees that unspoken tint to his eyes as he looks at her.

“Do you, uh—” He swallows. “Wanna hear another one?”

There’s nothing she can do to stop herself from smiling a soft smile.

“No.”

Against any of her better judgement, she leans in.

The first brush of her lips against his is barely there. It’s unbelievably soft, almost as if she’s dreaming. Peter startles at the touch, and she pulls back. He stares at her, mouth parted as he looks at her, speechless. A nervous laugh bubbles up out of him as he tentatively brings a hand to brush her wild curls behind her ear, staying there.

“You kissed me?” He asks dumbly.

She nods, mentally reminding herself to breath.

And that’s all it takes.

A split-second later, he’s crashing his lips against hers, sighing in relief at the contact, his hand moving to cup her jaw. And it’s a feeling that’s everything to her. For something that’s been so hyped up in her mind for so long, she feels delighted shock in finding that the feel of his mouth moving with hers far exceeds any of her previous expectations.

There’s a faint tremble to her hand as she cards it through his stupidly soft hair, gathering the strands, giving an unconscious, yet gentle tug. Peter groans, the sound sending a tidal wave of electricity through her.

And truly, she thinks she could live in this moment for forever, cheesy as it sounds.

His hand moves to her neck, bringing her even closer to him as tilts his head, deepening the kiss. With his free hand, he grips at her waist—her old t-shirt bunching as he pulls himself up to lean over her—before moving down to smooth circles into her exposed hip.

A harsh, short breath escapes her as she grips onto his black shirt, her other hand slipping underneath it to smooth across his stomach.

“I’ve thought about this for a long time,” Peter murmurs against her lips when he pulls back. “Like—a long time.” His laugh is breathy.

Hers is, too. Almost moreso. “Yeah,” she grins. “Me, too.”

The way his smile stretches, reaching all the way up to his eyes just might kill her, she thinks for a split-second, and she comes to her own rescue by pulling his face back down to hers.

She can feel his smile widen through the kiss as he rolls them over, her legs coming naturally to wrap around his waist as he lays on top of her. He squeezes her hip playfully, his hand ghosting across the waistband of her shorts. At her sharp intake of breath, he retracts his hand quickly, as if he’s been burned, mumbling out a “Sorry” against her cheek as he moves to press kisses along the column of her throat.

Michelle feels herself laugh breathily, still unable to bite back her smile. “It’s… It’s fine.” She takes his hand back to it’s place on her stomach, encouraging him to continue, her body screaming in celebration.

But he pulls away, looking at her inquisitively, the hand she’d moved coming back to rest on her arm. “We don’t have to do anything—”

“—I know we don’t,” she cuts him off, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she grins up at him. “But I want to.”

Somehow, someway, his grin seems to get even bigger, and he tries twisting his mouth in an effort to hide it. “Me, too.”

Without another word, she pulls him back down, kissing him soundly, his hand still resting against the flat of her stomach. Again, he deepens the kiss, a hand reaching to cradle the back of her head as his lips mould perfectly against hers. His tongue shyly brushes against her lips, and she readily parts them.

Her breathing grows ragged once more, and unconsciously, she rolls her hips upward, moaning softly into his mouth at the feeling of his hardness briefly pressing against her. He holds himself up with his free hand, muscles tensing as he bites back a groan. Her smile against his lips grows, and she does it again, earning the same reaction.

He huffs out a nervous chuckle, his kissing growing gentler as his other hand comes once again to the waistband of her soft sleep shorts. Slowly, almost too slowly, his hand dips under her shorts, and he freezes again.

Michelle’s ready to pull away and ask if he’s alright before he starts to just barely touch her.

Her hips jerk slightly, and she laughs quietly when he pulls away from her, looking down at her with curious concern before cupping her through her cotton boyshorts. One of his fingers traces a line down the middle of the soft fabric; it’s a faint touch, almost ghostly, but it’s more than enough to make her face burn hot. Almost experimentally, he presses down harder, his strokes smooth as he starts to rub slowly, the corner of his lip quirking upward at the tiny gasp that comes out of her.

He matches the pace with their breathing, his movements slow and deliberate. Pulling her in for another quick, yet sound kiss, he removes his hand. Instinctively, she raises her hips, her own shaking hands moving to remove her sleep shorts. She pushes them off, though she struggles getting them past her thigh, Peter swooping in to move them down the rest of the way.

“Teamwork,” he jokes lamely.

“Great—ah,” She responds, her voice catching when he returns his hand it’s earlier ministrations. “Great job.”

“Thanks,” he says with a small smirk.

This time, his strokes are faster, and he adds just the tiniest bit of pressure. Michelle’s breathing gets heavier, less steady, and all she can do is close her eyes and focus on just how fucking good it feels.

And also, how god damn frustrating it is that he’s still not actually touching her yet.

She can feel Peter’s smug smile against her neck when she lets out the quietest whine and she almost speaks up, ready to tell him off—joking of course—until she feels his hand finally dip past the navy blue lace trim.

Fuck.

His fingers hover above her silky skin before coming down slowly. They both let out shaky breaths as he touches her—finally touches her. His movement is still tentative as he goes to tease her entrance, collecting her wetness and swirling it over her clit, the slight tremor in his hand giving his nerves away. Unconsciously, her hand comes to rest on his, guiding him softly into a gentle rhythm. He murmurs something incoherent before capturing her lips into a tender kiss.

He repeats his movements, dipping his finger further into her each time.

“Oh—” A soft moan escapes her when he inserts a second finger, an uncontrollable grin pulling at his lips at the sound.

His fingers pump and in out of her, curling, speeding up when he notices how her breathing matches, his eyes trailing down to her lips. Michelle can hear her heart thundering in her ears, her breathing growing ragged as he picks up his pace.

But before she can feel herself getting closer to that point, Peter removes his fingers, sitting back on his heels as he rests between her knees. The whine that comes out of her at the loss of contact would almost be embarrassing if she wasn’t so annoyed. She glares up at him, though her gaze softens when he glances down briefly, then back up again, his eyes questioning and earnest.

“Can—” He clears his throat. “Can I—?”

It takes her a moment to register what he’s asking, but then it hits her.

Oh, fuck.

“Yes!” She answers a little too quickly, disguising her excitement under a cough. “I mean—” she replies slowly, lowering her voice. “Yes.”

He grins easily at her, the expression making her heart seize.

His smile fades as he leans down, his fingers tracing the lace trim of her boyshorts, pulling them down slowly, leaving them to hang off of her left leg. Before she can make any comment—perhaps one about how he half-asses everything, though perhaps, she thinks, it’s not the time for that—he dips his head down quickly, his lips meeting hers.

Michelle shudders, and her breathing hitches as he flattens his tongue before licking a long stripe up the length of her center, the fingers of his left hand digging into her thighs. Instinctively, her hands fly to his hair, wrapping themselves in the soft curls, smoothing them down as he sucks on her clit, tracing smooth circles with his tongue. He moves his free hand back up to her hips, curling two of his fingers into her once again.

After a beat, she lays back, allowing herself to become lost in the feeling, letting Peter coax soft moans from her lips, unable to stop her body from tensing, her insides twisting in white hot pleasure. He quickens his pace, and she has to cover her mouth to stifle her moans. He glances up at her, a sight that’s almost too dizzying when she dares a quick glance in return. She feels that same heat pooling in her stomach again, a wavy smile tugging at her lips as she feels herself getting closer and closer.

Her thighs twitch, tensing around Peter’s head, and for a moment, she worries that her hair pulling is a little rough—which doesn’t seem to be a problem, given the moans that Peter gives when she tugs and pulls, and frankly, it’s hard to focus on anything else with how she’s teetering back and forth on the edge. With another swipe of his tongue, Michelle gasps, bucking her hips upward, her fist in his hair holding him in just that right spot.

The coil tightens, the heat burning, and with added pressure to her clit, she feels herself flutter and spasm around his fingers as she releases, back arching as he whimpers under her breath. Peter pulls back, his breathing as ragged as hers, wiping his mouth before crawling up to meet her.

She doesn’t wait for him to ask before pulling him down, capturing his lips into a heated kiss, sighing as she tastes herself on him.

For a moment, there’s nothing else said between them as Peter pulls away, laying on his side next to her, the only sound in the room being their labored breaths.

“Go team,” he jokes.

With a playful eye roll, still breathless, MJ goes to pull the blanket back over them after the AC kicks in again, sending a shiver through her. “Go team,” she says back.

As soon as she’s back against the pillow, he moves in again, his hands moving to cup her face as he plants a soft kiss on her lips that makes her heart flutter. Her hand sneaks under the blanket as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss once more. The surprised grunt the comes out of Peter as she dips her hand under the waistband of his boxers, grabbing his dick, causes a faint, tired laugh to bubble up out of her.

He kisses her back eagerly, laying them back against the pillows as he brings a hand to rest on her naked hip.

It’s such a happy moment, Michelle thinks. Her heart feels as if it’s soaring in her chest, her cheeks warm and glowing. She likes this loser. So much. And she’s unbelievably glad that he feels the same.

Peter groans, feeling her soft hand tighten around him. His strangled moan is cut off. “Oh, God—”

And, perhaps in what they’ll remember as the ultimate, literal cockblock of all time from a Certified Moment Killer, Ned Leeds, their dear, dear friend, barges into the room.

“—Guys! Betty and I are gonna go watch the sunrise! Wanna—?”

He freezes, seeing his two best friends huddled together.

“—What’s going on guys? Why are you… in the same bed…?”

It’s in that moment that Michelle’s exceedingly glad she put the blanket back on so that they’re friend can remain blissfully unaware.

It’s also in that moment that she promptly takes her hand off of Peter’s dick.

Peter and MJ exchange glances

“...There was only one bed. And the couch sucked.”

Ned stares at them, his brows pinched together. He points a thumb at the loveseat in question, his expression seeming to state the obvious.

“You know that’s a pull-out couch right?”

#spideychelle #spideychelleweek2k20 #petermj #peter parker #michelle jones #cw: smut #spiceeeey

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the-odd-job · 3 years

Text

Up in Flames chapter 2 - Come and Take Her Hand (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Megatron Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3727

I must confess I'm addicted to this Shove your kiss straight through my chest I can't deny, I'd die without this Make me feel like a god Music, love and sex (Adrenalize me)

— In This Moment - Adrenalize

( Previous )

Skywarp did make sure they made it back to their quarters after a surprisingly pleasant evening of games and bad movies.

Earth movies. That surprised them more than a little. With the way the ‘Cons talked, you’d have thought they’d hate all parts of Earth, or that Megatron, at the very least, would ban all Earth things for the sake of banning them.

But no, it looked like they rather freely used the entertainment on offer. On a second thought it made some sense, because there wasn’t much else available.

And admittedly the jeers aimed at the organics in the movies had been more than a little savage. Optimus would have never allowed the kind of talk the Seekers had thrown around freely.

Optimus wasn’t here, though. So… They could’ve joined in without anyone getting on their afts about it, and Sideswipe did laugh at a lot of the things that were said.

But Autobot manners had dug themselves deep and they could scarcely allow themselves to have negative thoughts about the humans on the screen. If they thought about how much they didn’t like the organics for the sole reason of them being so incredibly organic… Well, Optimus would have had even more talks with them than he’d already had.

That was in the past now though, wasn’t it? Even if Megatron had let them—and that wasn’t going to happen—how the pit were they supposed to ever go back to the Autobots? After everything they’d done? After everything Sunstreaker had done?

Maybe they should try to move on, instead. Give up on the Autobot pretenses…

Could they do that?

Not yet, that was for sure. Everything was too fresh and the corridors of the Victory still felt so… Surreal. Like looking at a painting that didn’t make sense. They were so badly displaced that it was impossible to not feel out of their depth, even though the Seekers really hadn’t been anything… Out there. They were mecha like any other, chatting and talking, laughing. Making fun of things.

They weren’t Autobot and it was impossible to mistake them for being Autobot with the things that came out of their vocalizers, but slag, just how big was the divide between the two factions their species had broken into?

Was it as big as everyone liked to make it?

Because it hadn’t felt that different from nights spent in the Ark’s rec room.

It was a lot to compartmentalize after Skywarp said his good nights and skipped down the hall. Sideswipe went straight to their berth faceplanted onto it, groaning into its surface. Sunstreaker could feel his brother’s processors practically cooking from the conflict of expectations versus what reality had been so far.

So far. These were the ‘Cons, and he fragging well wasn’t going to trust there wouldn’t be unpleasant things coming for them down the line. More than just Megatron clawing their insignias for them.

He sat down next to Sideswipe and his brother turned his helm to the side enough to peer up at him. “So… Skywarp seems nice.”

“Kinda, yeah.”

“And the other Seekers weren’t so bad either. Although they never introduced themselves. Huh.”

He didn’t get a chance to answer because there was a ping at their door. It was more of an announcement to someone’s presence instead of a request to come in, because the door swept aside almost immediately.

Megatron.

Who else?

“You haven’t heard of knocking?” Sunstreaker scowled. Sideswipe turned around and pushed himself to sitting.

“You’ll do well to remember it’s my ship,” Megatron rumbled as he stepped inside, letting the door close behind him. He utterly dominated the already small space, and right then Sunstreaker didn’t really feel like sitting anymore.

So he stood up. Not that it did him a hell of a lot of good when Megatron still towered over him. He craned his neck and glared up at the tyrant, who met his optics annoyingly neutrally.

Like Sunstreaker wasn’t a threat of any kind to him.

But that wasn’t true, was it?

Before he could decide on what manner of pain he would deliver on the warlord, though, Megatron had moved to the reason for his visit. “We should discuss my expectations of you while you’re carrying.”

Ugh. Seriously? “What slagging expectations can you even have? It’s my fragging life,” Sunstreaker snarled.

Megatron wasn’t impressed and returned his glare. “That presently involves my sparkling.”

Not untrue, but slag him if he was going to let that affect a damn thing. It hadn’t stopped being his life just because he happened to be carrying. “So, what?” Sunstreaker snapped accordingly, “You want to turn me into a helpless carrier just that sits pretty until the sparkling’s separated?” To keep it safe from harm or some slag like that? ”Not going to happen.”

The tyrant didn’t need even a second to consider what he’d said. “Will you fight for me, then?” Megatron asked without any fanfare, “Against your former comrades?” As if he had been expecting a retort along those lines.

The twins? The matter of who the slag they’d fight for was bound to come up eventually, but they hadn’t really foreseen it coming up so soon.

Or so directly.

Maybe they should have. What was the point of dancing around the obvious? They were warriors. Fighting was what they did, but now they’d switched sides. Sort of. Not because they wanted to.

So where did their loyalties lie right now?

Not with Megatron.

But Sunstreaker didn’t think that needed to be said, Megatron had to know already.

What of the whole reason they were here, then? “You’d risk your sparkling?”

Megatron had an answer prepared for that as well. “I would not shelf one of the best warriors Cybertron has to offer just because they’re carrying,” he near growled, like that was something he felt strongly about.

Sideswipe blinked and even Sunstreaker rocked back on his heels. If the sentiment wasn’t entirely unexpected—they were assets to whoever they fought for, and they knew as much—the emotion behind it was.

But Megatron continued, “What would Optimus say? That you need to put your whole life on hold so as to not endanger the sparkling?” Now he growled properly.

And was that it? That he once again disagreed with a stance the Prime took?

Was it a stance Optimus had? They hadn’t exactly had the time to verify that, but Megatron sure sounded like this had… Come up before, or something.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics up at the warlord. “The way you decided to let everyone know about the goddamn sparkling, we didn’t really have the time to find out what Optimus would’ve thought.”

“He has made his stance clear in the past,” Megatron snarled. “He wasted your talent to begin with, only to set you aside completely if he found out you were harboring new life.”

Considering how rabid Optimus was about protecting life in all of its forms… Honestly, that wouldn’t have even surprised them, although Sunstreaker wasn’t about to take just Megatron’s word for it.

And what was all this talk about how good fighters they were? Best Cybertron had to offer, wasted on the Autobot side of the war?

Frag off. “If you’re trying to soften me to the idea of fighting for you, it’s not working,” Sunstreaker growled back. “You fragging destroyed my life.”

“Didn’t you do that yourself, Sunstreaker?” Megatron asked, and now he leaned in in a way that forced Sunstreaker to take a step back—or move as far back as he could before the edge of the berth hit the back of his thighs. “The sparkling was about to come to light regardless, and it was my right to lay claim on it.”

“You had no right to have me ousted me as a slagging traitor!”

“But that’s what you are. You think they wouldn’t have found out the truth eventually even if your medic had kept it a secret?”

Sunstreaker’s engine growled hard enough that he began to worry for its integrity, his face twisted in a motherfucking snarl. Megatron wasn’t wrong, on any front, but slag him all the same! Maybe things wouldn’t have ended like this if the damn fragger had just kept his mouth shut.

“It is my sparkling as well, Sunstreaker,” Megatron continued. “I was not and am not about to let the Autobots keep me from it.”

“So that makes it okay to just walk in and force me to join you?” Sunstreaker hissed, shoving at the warlord’s chassis with both servos. “Get the slag out of here, we’re done talking.”

But Megatron grabbed his servos, lifted him by them, and threw him back onto the berth. Sunstreaker landed with a grunt, but sat up and snarled at the tyrant right after.

Megatron didn’t make a move to follow him, but his optics were burning on him. “We’re done talking when I say we’re done talking.

“How did you even know to show up at just the perfect time, anyway?” Sideswipe spoke up suddenly. Megatron glanced at him as he’d forgotten his brother was even present, which wasn’t that much of a surprise. In any scanners they’d show up as a single reading, and with Sideswipe as still and quiet as he had been, following their little conversation...

“There’s little Soundwave doesn’t know,” Megatron answered.

The implications settled in quickly. “You were keeping tabs on me?!” Sunstreaker demanded in a near roar that he was sure would carry up and down the hall if the room wasn’t decently soundproofed.

Megatron glared at him like he was an unruly youngling getting on his nerves. “My sparkling, Sunstreaker. How many times do I need to repeat that?”

“My life! How many times do I need to repeat that?!” That infuriating fucking–

“Okay, okay,” Sideswipe piped up again, bringing his servos up to diffuse the situation a little bit before Sunstreaker jumped up to strangle the fragger. “I get it, it’s your sparkling and you have rights to it, and that conflicts with our right to our life, but you decided the sparkling was more important than letting us decide what the slag we were going to do.” Sunstreaker glared at his brother for good measure too, but Sideswipe didn’t pay him mind. “How much freedom do we have, though? We were allowed to walk around the ship, which was honestly more than we expected, but…” he trailed off, frowning.

“I will not make you prisoners unless you force my hand,” Megatron said, significantly more calm in responding to Sideswipe than he was with Sunstreaker.

That could have something to do with Sideswipe just acting less aggravating, though.

Slag his brother for good measure. What the fuck had him acting so reasonable?

“So we’re allowed to leave the ship if we want to?” Sideswipe prodded further.

“With escort, yes.”

That was… Really surprising, actually. Sideswipe stilled for a second because they really had expected the answer to be a simple ‘no’, but Sunstreaker found his words without too much delay. “What, don’t trust us to not fragging run away?”

“I would drag you back even if you did. There’s nowhere you can go where I wouldn’t find you,” Megatron glared at him where he very much didn’t glare at Sideswipe. “I’m more concerned with your former faction. I will not let them separate me from my sparkling.” There it was again. Apparently Megatron was really serious about having the sparkling for himself.

“Frag you too,” Sunstreaker muttered before he raised his volume back to normal levels. “What about the fact it’s my sparkling as much as yours? If I’d rather the Autobots had it over you?”

This time Megatron’s voice was calm and steady when he answered, “I would not allow that.”

That was the trouble with fifty-fifty rights to something. If you wanted different things, at some point one would need to overrule the other one way or another.

In this situation, there was little question that Megatron was in a far better position to overrule anything Sunstreaker said or wanted.

Sunstreaker growled, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t like he actually wanted the Autobots to have the sparkling. Who the slag knew what they’d do to it… “So what do you slagging expect from me?”

“I expect you to stay with the Decepticons until you have delivered it, and care for it to the best of your ability during your carry,” Megatron rumbled. “You will not deny me access to yourself or it, and after it has separated, I will have it.”

Right. And what could he do to argue any of that? There was a bit of a power imbalance going on here.

“And if I want to have it too, after it’s separated?” Sunstreaker asked with a growl. Did he want that? Frag if he knew, but he was curious for the answer regardless.

“You’re welcome to stay, but the sparkling will not leave.”

So… Stay among the ‘Cons if he wanted to have a part in the sparklet’s life after he’d delivered it.

Sunstreaker scowled. “It sounds like a hell of a lot like you’re expecting me to put my life on hold until I’m no longer carrying.”

“I am the sire. I have a say in what happens to the sparkling, even during the period it resides in your frame.”

They were just going in circles here, weren’t they? Sunstreaker threw his arms up before flopping back onto the berth, frustration coursing all over his frame. “Does it matter one crap what I want, here?”

“We can discuss your options again after you’ve delivered my sparkling.”

Sunstreaker snarled, and in an angry moment of true genius, kicked at Megatron with both legs. Fucking bastard, walking in all dangerous and titillating and proceeding to turn his whole fragging life upside down.

Because Sunstreaker had played no part in that, oh no.

Megatron caught his legs easily. The tyrant’s optics flashed and Sunstreaker had a moment to consider how big of a mistake he’d made, before he was tugged to the edge of the berth—with Megatron between his legs.

Sunstreaker growled twice as hard. “Get the slag away from me.”

“I seem to remember you quite love my spike,” Megatron growled right back at him. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” His servo slipped to Sunstreaker’s valve cover and Sunstreaker tried to tilt his hips away from the touch, to no avail.

And slag, but he didn’t want to think about all of the spectacular frags they’d already had before their little accident. A traitorous part of his mind whispered that what did it matter, the damage was already done.

There was nothing more to lose, so why not just enjoy what there was?

A larger part of his mind, though, remained entirely too stubborn to just give Megatron what he wanted. Sunstreaker did nothing when the warlord’s claws dug into the seams of his panel despite the way Megatron raised an optical ridge at him—would he retract, or would he not?

He had every time before, but every time before there were questions to be avoided.

There was no one to ask those questions, now. Everyone knew already.

The panel stayed shut.

Megatron’s other optical ridge rose up as well, a second ahead of his claws sinking in and dislodging the entire cover. Sunstreaker grunted at the pain as the tyrant simply tore it off and threw it aside.

Wetness already greeted Megatron’s digits when he shoved two of them into his valve without preamble, the sting only revving Sunstreaker’s engine higher. “Are you ever not wet for me?” Megatron hissed at him, leaning down even as he began to pump those digits in and out. Sunstreaker’s hips jerked into the motion before he could stop himself, followed by a furious growl—furious at himself, furious at Megatron.

“Frag off and stop flattering yourself.” Slag, but Megatron’s already thick digits would be nothing compared to his spike itself, and heat was pooling in Sunstreaker’s core just at the thought of that. His engine growled harder, anger rising in time with his arousal.

Slag Megatron for always turning him on so fucking effortlessly. Without even really trying, though at least he was taking the time to somewhat prepare him—a third digit slipped into his valve, spreading his calipers further with just another little sting. Sunstreaker’s helm fell back against the berth and he had to bite back a moan.

That was enough for the tyrant. His digits pulled out, then the familiar click of his spike cover retracting heralded the nudge of a very sizable spike against his valve entrance.

Sunstreaker had just the time to prepare himself before Megatron thrust in, all the way… But even having expected it, he couldn’t keep a groan from escaping his vocalizer no matter how he tried to strangle it. Megatron’s servos, so massive compared to him, caught his hips to keep him in place.

Not that Sunstreaker would have found himself too motivated to go anywhere with the warlord’s length splitting him open to the most exquisite strain of his calipers.

And that was even before he started to move. Once Megatron pulled out, only to push back in the next moment… Primus.

How wrong of him was it to say he’d slagging missed that stupid spike? Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from rocking his hips into the steady, heavy, deep thrusts. Megatron chuckled. “You’re hungry for it.”

“Slag you.” That did not come out as a fragging moan, dammit.

Sideswipe kept physically quiet, but in their spark his chortling reverberated all over the place. Sunstreaker growled harder at that. They were both laughing at him, fraggers.

But slag, the way Megatron’s pace increased until it was enough to put all of his previous berth partners to shame—he wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that. His valve was singing its praises at him, pleasure rocking his whole damn world until he couldn’t do more than grab onto the berth’s surface in a doomed effort to ground himself.

Megatron wasn’t kind, he wasn’t gentle. His hold on his hips was tight enough to dent and he pulled him back into every punishing thrust, as if the motion of his hips alone wasn’t violent enough.

Sunstreaker wouldn’t have it any other way. Fragging forget Optimus—forget Ironhide. Optimus couldn’t even pretend to be anything other than soft and thoughtful, always so worried about Sunstreaker’s comfort every step of the way. Ironhide could try, but it never stopped feeling like he was just acting.

The other Autobots weren’t even worth mentioning.

Megatron was nothing like them. He wasn’t acting, he wasn’t pretending, he was just himself—intense, demanding, taking.

Giving just by accident, as an afterthought. Megatron chased after his own overload so roughly Sunstreaker doubted they’d ever have a single frag that didn’t end up with him looking like he’d gotten thoroughly ‘faced, but frag–

It was fucking worth it. He could fix himself back up after, but in the moment, in this moment, only the sheer ecstasy Megatron was driving his frame towards mattered.

He couldn’t keep quiet. Fuckit, he tried, and he wasn’t a loud individual, not prone to voicing his pleasure—but he couldn’t not do that now as Megatron drove his spike into him over and over again. Sunstreaker writhed for more of it, shoving into every thrust until Megatron’s engine was rumbling in approval and Sunstreaker himself was moaning with every violent invasion into his frame.

“Your words never seem to agree with your frame,” Megatron growled at him, shoving in particularly roughly to punctuate his words.

Sunstreaker couldn’t will his optics open, couldn’t stop his groan—but he growled right back. “Trust my words. I hate you.”

“But not my spike,” he could hear the tyrant snarl, and was his voice coming closer?

Then there were lips on his, as rough as the thrusts into his valve.

Sunstreaker was moaning. Why couldn’t he stop himself from moaning? And he shouldn’t– Frag, but he shouldn’t be winding his arms around Megatron’s neck to pull him ever closer, and he definitely, he definitely shouldn’t part his lips at the demanding bite at his lower lip that was only followed by Megatron’s glossa invading his oral cavity.

Slag it all. If the fragging Autobots had seen him now, moaning his pretty spark out as he took the warlord’s spike and moaned for more, let him kiss him, let him use him… Oh, he was a traitor, alright.

He took it until he couldn’t anymore. A hoarse cry rose from his throat as his overload hit him with all the energy of a bolt of lightning, arching his frame from help to pede—against the frame above his. Megatron growled as his valve clenched down, and a moment later Sunstreaker could feel further wetness assaulting his already sopping valve—could feel the charge from Megatron’s frame crackling against him, pulling him into another, smaller overload before the charge from the previous had even finished dying off.

He slumped against the berth as the last remnants of that finally abandoned him, his vents heaving. As were Megatron’s. At least he wasn’t the only one who had found that… Satisfying.

Megatron pulled back with one last nip on his mouth, letting his spike depressurize into its housing. As ever, a veritable flood followed its retreat, streaming from Sunstreaker’s valve, onto the berth’s edge, and to the floor from there.

“Should we do that again, hm?” Megatron asked from him, and Sunstreaker finally found the willpower to open his optics to glare at the damn mech.

“Go to hell.”

There was a twitch at the corner of Megatron’s mouth, an almost smile that didn’t quite materialize before the warlord turned to leave, taking the step to the door. “Have Hook fix that cover,” he said as it opened for him.

Like they even knew where Hook’s repair bay was, but Megatron didn’t much enlighten them on that front before he just walked out.

The door closed on his heels.

Pits.

Sideswipe scooted into his field of view. “So…” his brother said, inspecting his heated, panting frame, spread legs, and the fragging mess between them. “I’ll clean that up. You just… Enjoy the afterglow,” Sideswipe grinned.

Fragger was teasing him.

Sunstreaker snarled, but… Yeah, he didn’t really feel like moving.

Frag everything.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #megatron #sunstreaker #sideswipe #fic #2020 #up in flames #ashes #megasun

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twilightofthe · 4 years

Text

Aight, one last serious post for a bit. After that I think I might back off on some rants and stuff that I’ve been doing because I created this blog to be a positive place, and tbh, discussing stuff I don’t like just makes me upset, especially since I feel like I’m just shouting into either an unhearing void or at an audience that is watching and is distinctly unimpressed

Basically though, I wanted to apologize for the slightly salty posts I’ve made recently (and one like, yesterday lol) complaining about how people portray Anakin’s intelligence. I realize I came across as critical and accusatory of people who are just having fun and likely mean no harm, and it wasn’t fair of me to be all snappy about it. So yeah, I’m extremely sorry about that. I likely hurt people and that was not my intention. Please have fun and headcanon Anakin as anything you want. I love and support you and even if we can’t agree, we can def still be friends!

But, I will take this opportunity to kinda ramble a bit about my own personal experiences with this, and why I view Anakin the way I do, what his character means to me, and why it’s kinda exhausting sometimes to engage in fandom because I have the misfortune of having the unpopular opinion regarding a character, and how hard it is to respect other people’s takes when it seems that every time I give my own takes, it’s like I’m immediately shot down for them and refuted for the popular opinions, like I’m not allowed to believe this thing myself. Why I sometimes just gotta rant a little bit, and why no one should take it personal or as a criticism of them.

This below all delves very intricately into my own personal mindset and life experiences. It’s personal. Please remember this is a very personal post.

Now, to me, I totally understand Anakin has made every mistake in the world. I know he turns into a monster and hurts/(in)directly kills everyone he’s ever loved. I know that. I’m fully aware that he makes mistake after mistake after mistake. I know he’s a flawed character. I’m not saying he’s perfect. He’s far from it.

But at the same time, I can relate to parts of his character. His anxiety, his upset at not being able to live up to the standards he feels everyone’s putting on him when really no one is but him, the feeling of being constantly on the edge because you feel like your entire life is in a spiral and you don’t know how to stop it and every choice you make out of desperation makes things worse, how everyone around you just keeps making so much better choices and it’s like, why can’t I do that? What’s wrong with me? Why are they always right???????

And I love the fact that canonically, despite his utter disaster-ness, he has the potential to be good, to rise. That he is a canonical Gifted Kid, mega-intelligent but just totally unsure how to direct that so he flounders more often than not unless it’s in relation to his few specific interests, giving the feeling like I’m a fake and really there’s only one thing I’m good for. The need to do ANYTHING for validation from others because that’s what feeds you.

I’ve suffered this same insecurity and anxiety and self-hatred I can see in him my whole life, the same inability to properly manage my life like I’m supposed to and that everyone else seems to have figured out, how I could be so much more if I actually knew how to rise to the occasion instead of constantly crash and burn

I love Anakin so much because he is enough like me that I can sympathize and feel for him, but also different enough that when I see him tear down the path of self destruction, I can feel relief that I’m never at that point, and also sympathy that he fell that far (amidst my anger at him for hurting my other faves lol)

I LOVE that he has that ability to be smart and capable but just doesn’t know how to apply himself all the time, love it so much, and that’s why it’s a struggle sometimes when I feel that every time I try and say something showing off that side of him, like comment on something smart and creative he would have done, or something he HAS done right, immediately there’s people responding to me like UH NO ACTUALLY HE IS NOTHING BUT A PURE DUMBASS :) :) :))))))))))) HE DOESN’T HAVE THAT ABILITY/WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO DO THAT BECAUSE IT’S TOO SMART/SENSIBLE/GOOD FOR HIS POOR FEEBLE MIND, PERHAPS YOU MEANT SOMEONE ELSE MORE CAPABLE?

I’m not kidding about this. I said Anakin was a good cook once? I immediately got a response saying no, he can’t be, he’s a feral gremlin who eats bugs. I tried to start a convo about him having an emotional/meaningful conversation with one of his loved ones about something because he notices something wrong with them? Someone instantly refuted me because “nah he’s too clueless and oblivious to have that kind of emotional sensitivity ever”. I write something in a fic that shows Anakin doing something cool? In comes a guest commenter passive aggressively with something along the lines of “oh your Anakin is SO MUCH smarter and capable than he should be it’s almost OOC, but I’ll believe it for now haha”

I’ve got more instances I can recount, but I’m stopping here. I totally respect people’s headcanons, and right to have fun, I do. I cannot stress enough that people can and should write what the want. But to me, when it feels like people don’t always want to ever consider my takes on his character, when it’s like fandom is constantly churning out reminders of how much they believe he doesn’t have a brain, well, like

It’s like, when you relate to a character like that and keep getting your opinions and ways to relate shut down by the majority no matter what you do or say, it just feels like everyone is telling me “SMART PEOPLE don’t ever fail at things! People with REAL gifts and talents don’t ever waste them or make mistakes. If you’re struggling, if you crash and burn, if you don’t quite have your life together, it can only mean you’re just plain stupid and a failure for the rest of your life. As a Fool, you can’t ever be considered successful or do something right— because that would be doing something Smart and you have Proven Yourself Dumb. All of your accomplishments and thing you’ve done right can either be attributed to someone else deemed More Capable, or could have been done better by something else, so those good things don’t mean anything. Since you acted the fool once, a fool is all you’ll ever be.”

I’ve struggled with that kind of talk from other people and especially from my own insecurities my entire life.

And I know that’s not what people really mean, I know fans are just sharing their headcanons. I know no one wants to hurt anyone, they’re just making a joke and having fun! I call Anakin a dumbass all the time! SW fandom is 99% good people who just wanna play with their own toys and gush about things that they love! I know this is like 90% good faith!

But it gets harder to believe sometimes the Dumb Anakin headcanons are just innocent headcanons and not genuine beliefs when people Will Not let me have different ones without playfully— or not so playfully —reminding me of how wrong they think I am and what they think about his intelligence level and abilities.

And because my own personal history with anxiety and self-destruction, being overwhelmed with that talk really just hurts, and I will never be able to make that hurt response go away, no matter how irrational it is.

But yeah. That’s how I relate to Anakin. That’s why I see him this way. That’s why I cannot resist complaining sometimes. I’ve been at a very low point recently and these negative thoughts have just been worse so I’ve been more cranky about it, but I promise I won’t bring it up too much.

Thanks for listening.

I’m probs not gonna post anything “rant”-related on here for a very long time— or do my damned hardest to try not to.

#don’t worry y’all i won’t clog the tags with this #i just wanted to clarify this whole clusterfuck after a really useful conversation on discord #and i just had to get all my messy thoughts out here so ppl understand where i’m coming from #morai musings #one (1) hot mess

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