#listen you can think of other ones I'm just listing the ones I've written for in the past

[doverstar]

send me a one-word prompt and a ship and I'll write you a lil oneshot and post it on ao3, how's that? feed me

#*nacho libre voice* is for fun #ask prompt #writing prompt #ship prompt #fic author #oneshot prompt #one word prompt #free to use friendos #timepetals #hellcheer #phineas and ferb #phinabella #or even something I HAVEN'T written for before? #elevenrose #tenrose #ninerose #lanejess #gilmore girls #listen you can think of other ones I'm just listing the ones I've written for in the past #jelsa #that's one of them. jelsa my beloveds #alvinette #oh boy am I 12 again? alvinette!! #don't tempt me #send me any ship you know I mutually like? I mean. peep my tumblr banner to see favorites of mine

[allieebobo]

Do you have any if recommendation?

Ooh! I have really, really bad memory(!!) but these are current faves that I have played/replayed recently that I can think of. A lot of the authors are also THE BEST HUMAN BEINGS EVER. So, double recommendation.

I probably missed a bunch out, so take this as a non-exhaustive list! In no particular order:

(Edit: Added some descriptions but yeah I got a little unhinged so I'm sorry nothing makes sense or if the quality of the write-up went down over time/did not actually give you any useful info)

WIPs with demos

Citadel, @bouncyballcitadel (I think of all the IFs on this list, this one makes me sweat the most. And I've said it once and I'll say it again: the dialogue is so snappy and well-written, and characters are SO DAMNED LOVEABLE.)

Infamous, @infamous-if (I've been manifesting Band/Musician IFs for the longest time, and then this popped up! I've even played Choice of a Rockstar, that's how desperate I was... Anyway, this is legions better than that. Angsty ex routes are my kryptonite, and Seven is just. Inevitable.)

Defiled Hearts: The Barbarian, @defiledheartsblog (I went into this wanting something juicy and fun/historical—and it's all of those things, but I didn't expect it to be so damned funny, too. The ROs are all impeccable.)

Raiders of the Caravan and Apartment 3-3, @leftski-if (A'ight listen, fantasy slice-of-life is my fave genre, and these are IT. Like, everything I never knew I needed in my life, and SO cozy/wholesome, with a cast of characters that I want to befriend in real life.)

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: An Affair of the Heart @doriana-gray-games (First off, the customization in this game is INSANE, and the branching too. I've replayed a couple of times and the little variations I discover each time just blows my mind. Secondly, it's so funny and written so well. Ngl I'm not a Sherlock fan but that's just testament to how amazing this IF is.)

When Life Gives You Lemons, @when-life-gives-you-lemonssss (Modern slice-of-life with an adorable kid, a bunch of hot ROs, CC. Hill's humor, what can I say?)

Golden @milaswriting (Really interesting world-building, one of the coolest fictional cities I've read in an IF, AND I'm obsessed with the ROs, in particular K de la Renta. Also Mila is such an awesome writer, I'm beyond excited for @beyondthegame.)

A Tale of Crowns @ataleofcrowns (This game is beautiful, polished, and SO exciting. Honestly, it looks like the kind of game created by a whole-ass game studio and would cost $50 to buy, it's that good. I really got swept up by this IF—probably played it all in one go.)

Rougi @rougi-if (Again, another game with scrumptious visuals/UI and also is just so well-crafted. I love the premise too, it's so original and fresh.)

Scout: An Apocalypse Story @anya-dev (Unfortunately this one might be on hiatus but I am/was really, really obsessed.)

Wayfarer @idrellegames (Love the game mechanics of this one, and the visuals. Probably controversial, but I like the D&D / random dice effect. And I also like the fact that it feels like an old-school RPG.)

Chop shop @losergames (The premise is all I needed to be sold, really—I'd always wanted to buy GTA as a kid but my parents were like NO WAY. Anyway, this IF did not disappoint, and let me live all my childhood dreams.)

Edit: AHH! How could I forget, one of my recent faves, Folksaga @folksaga-if (Lush atmospheric writing, super unique premise—norse mythology, plus I'm head over heels for Katla).

Completed IFs

Butterfly Soup 1 and 2 @brianna-lei (these are completed and I will never not promote them. Honestly the most adorable, wholesome, funny sports/coming-of-age IF I've read)

Elsinore: After Hamlet @lapinlunairegames (Insanely cool premise, insanely cool execution)

The Thick Table Tavern @manonamora-if (I love bar/tavern games, and this one actually lets you mix drinks! Instant fave.)

Other HGs/COGs I love: Slammed, Tin Star, Fallen Hero, If it pleases the court, A Player's Heart (these last two are so underrated, though I guess cause it's mainly wlw)

#asks #if #IF recommendations #other IFs #interactive fiction

[comicaurora]

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

#asks #not aurora

[ghostlykeyes]

Hello! :)

First, I'd like to say that I've been enjoying your works so much! They're so well-written and fun to read ^^ I especially loved the one with Kayn and a cute partner, it was so sweet! <3

If it's alright (and there's no worries if not!), may I ask for either Sett or Yone with a shy, soft-spoken partner? Both seem like they'd make a cute pairing! Just completely sfw please.

Tysm! 🩷💫

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HEARTSTEEL SETT/ SHY READER ♡ Gender Neutral ♡ SFW ♡ No TWs ♡ YESSSS I'm so excited to write for Sett ! While the amount of Kayn content might indicate otherwise I have ALWAYS been a Sett main and I will ALWAYS maintain he is BEST BOI ♡ Thank you for your kind words anon! Hope you enjoy ~

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡��♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

SETT

Wonderful, sweet Sett—he can tell exactly when you're worried about a social situation. All it takes is a look, and he knows that you're stuck in your own head, stressed about meeting new people or replaying the last conversation you stumbled through. "Hey," he says gently, bumping you with his shoulder. "You okay?" Sett listens as you talk through your concerns, rubbing a comforting thumb over your knuckles. He's silent until you finish. "I know other people can be rough" he says once you've expressed your struggles. "But honestly? Screw what anyone else thinks about you. You're sweet, kind, cute..." Sett continues the list until he coaxes a smile out of you. "But for real," he says, once you feel better. "I think you're the greatest. If someone else can't see that just because you're a little shy, that's their loss."

Sett knows he's got those Scary Boyfriend Privileges and he's not afraid to put them to work for you. Trapped in a conversation? He'll stand behind you, arms crossed, and glare. Usually the other person says their goodbyes pretty quickly. Need to confront someone? Any disagreement, big or small; say less. Sett is there, definitely not flexing menacingly. And asserting yourself? Well, telling your roommate to do their own dishes is a hell of a lot easier with over six feet of solid muscle backing you up.

Whenever you've got something to say, Sett shushes everyone so that you can speak. It's a little embarrassing, suddenly having all the attention suddenly on you. You do have to admit, though, it's nice to have people actually listen to you for once.

Obviously he can't avoid fans approaching him, but Sett feels so bad whenever you're out together and someone recognizes him. You've already got limited social energy, and now you have to waste it playing nice with heart-eyed fangirls ogling your boyfriend? He understands it's not pleasant. "Sorry, baby," he says to you. "I'll make it quick, I promise." After taking a selfie or two with them, he politely but insistently makes an excuse to leave. "Awesome to meet you," he smiles, winding his fingers through yours, "but we gotta go. Heartsteel schedules, man!" After you make your escape, Sett bends down to kiss your forehead and apologizes for the unwanted attention.

The best way Sett supports you in social situations is through his body language. He comforts you with the soft pressure of a hand on your back, or a reassuring thumb rubbing circles over your knuckles. When you speak, he turns his head to you, fully engaged. And, if you're in a group, he always makes sure to angle his body so that you're included in the circle.

When introducing you to his mom, Sett sticks to you like velcro. The two people he cares about most, finally meeting? Of course he wants it to go well! He practically hovers over you, trying to give you as much support as he can. You can barely go to the bathroom without him chaperoning. Bless his heart, though—he's so nervous and eager to please both his mom and you that it actually ends up making you more withdrawn. Thankfully, his mom—angel that she is—notices how nervous you are. She gives you a comforting smile (the exact same one her son often offers you, you note) and tells you both to relax. "Don't pressure yourself, my dear," she says to you. "My son adores you, which means I do, too. You've already got my approval." Her kindness and warmth is incredibly disarming, and you find it's very easy to come out of your shell around her.

God help the poor soul who tries to speak over you. Sett gets so pissed whenever anyone cuts you off. It doesn't matter if it's a Heartsteel member, or one of your friends, or, fuck it, your own damn mother—Sett's jaw locks and he gives them the dirtiest of dirty looks. "Uh, hey? I think they were trying to say something," he interrupts them, voice firm and eyes hard. And with Sett glaring down at them like that, all bulging muscles and barely-concealed growls and pissed-off-boyfriend energy? They usually quiet down pretty quick, and you're free to continue. They're on Sett's shit-list for the next couple of days, though. He's giving them a glare every time your back is turned.

While Sett loves his bros in Heartsteel, he knows that they all have really big, loud personalities. It can be a lot to deal with, especially for someone so shy. So, he invites you to everything—music video filming, birthday parties, movie nights— but he makes it clear that he completely understands if you don't want to come. Oh, but if you do show up? He's over the moon, and he'll do anything to make sure you're as comfortable as possible. Feeling overwhelmed and need a social break? He'll step outside for a walk with you. Kayn's teasing you? Sett's got him in a 'friendly' headlock in .2 seconds. Said something embarrassing? Don't worry. Sett will immediately distract everyone, even if he's got to say something twice as embarrassing to change the subject. Whatever you need, he's got you.

#heartsteel headcanons #heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #Sett #Heartsteel Sett #Sett/reader #sett x reader #sett lol #sett league of legends

[foone]

weird thought: I think if I was a teenager now (or anytime in the last decade or so) I think I would have written (and read!) a lot more fanfic than I did in reality, where I was a teenager in the 90s.

See, I've never been hugely into fanfic. Never had anything against it exactly, but it just wasn't something I was into. But I think that has to do with an interesting combination of how my brain works and what time I was first really getting into being a fan.

I've got a "librarian" brain (I'm literally typing this from within a library, WHERE I WORK). It wants to know things like "what are all the works in this series/by this creator?" and "are they all accessible?" and "what info is available about how it was made?"

I'm the kind of person who will watch a show then go look it up on wikipedia to see how many seasons it has, who made it, if they're still making it, check tvtropes for any more info, etc. Or I hear a song I like by a band I've never heard of, so I go listen to their entire discography while researching them. I just focus on things I'm into that way, you know? I don't half-ass my interest. (this is probably related to my autism, of course)

So what does this have to do with fanfic? like, do I go read some fanfics as part of this process? No, and I think the reason for it is when I specifically first got into fandom, as a teen.

See, this sort of fandom-librarian was harder to do in 1997, you know? You couldn't just pull up the wikipedia for that new show and see how many episodes it had. You also couldn't just listen to the whole discography of that band! Forget Spotify or Google Music, even Napster didn't exist yet.

So my interest in fandom focused a lot more on very basic questions: How many episodes/albums/books/whatever are there? Where can I see/hear them all? Like, I remember getting excited because I found some fan magazine that had a list of all the Star Trek: The Next Generation episodes. Just a list! Not even descriptions or anything. I finally could take that list and see how many I'd seen, so I'd know when I saw them all in late-night reruns.

So I'm focusing on these very basic parts of being a fandom-librarian and I stumble across some fanfic. I'm like "oh, is this a transcript of an episode I haven't seen yet?" and I realize it's not, it's a story written by a fan, and I get a knee-jerk reaction of "that's not helpful to my quest to know and find all the episodes". It's like I am on a quest for the holy grail and I found a fake cup. It's not helpful to me, and at worst it's a distraction from my goal.

And the thing is, I think the fact I had that reaction is entirely due to the time and situation in which I first encountered fanfic. It was in that environment of "I can't even find a list of the episodes, let alone a way to watch them all!" and that anxiety that colored my response to finding fanfic.

I think if I instead was first introduced to fanfic NOW, where those fandom-librarian drives aren't so difficult to fulfill, I'd be way more positive about fanfic. If I could get a list of episodes with a quick google search, and watch them easily on netflix/prime/whatever, I'd be less "THIS DOESN'T HELP! I AM STRUGGLING WITH THE BASICS HERE!" and more "yay, more content for the fandom I'm obsessed with!"

Like I said, I'm not anti-fanfic, I never have been, I just never got into it. From the beginning I had this reaction that was "this is not useful" and I never developed any real interest in it. Which is a shame, honestly. Fanfic is great. It just never became one of my interests, and while I've written it and read it from time to time, I imagine I'd be way more into it if I didn't have the weird reaction to it due to the worries of the time in which I first encountered it.

I don't know how many other people have brains that work anything like mine, but if they exist, I'm glad they're now growing up in a world where they won't have these problems. They can get into fanfic without this weird baggage caused by a lack of information.

#fanfic meta

[lisa-russell]

FOR THE FANS OUT THERE WHO CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF SPLATOON.

UPDATE: Twas fun! Even if Team Bunnies lost! I Was more amused by Shiver having to try and stop or distract Bigman from rembering/clueing who team bear remined him of lmao.

"Learn the rules like a Pro, so you can break them like an Artist"-Pablo Picasso

If your like me and love reading, listening and seeing fanart,music and stories all based around Splatoon...well look no futher!

IF ya wanna see a bunch of amusing and comedic, like memes or mini comics collected from all just #sploonies.

Do me a favor and reblog this! or...atleast share it! More inkfolk who see thia the better!

# splatsville sploonies if yah wanna see all dah memes ive reblogged from tumblr!

HERE IS A LIST OF 83 STORIES ALL LOVINGLY WRITTEN BY FELLOW FANS LIKE YOURSELF.

I reaaaad alllooot. So these are what I get when the game ain't enough. I made this lil list from myself and others. Authors who have taken their time to let us dive into their inky tales or love, danger,action,fluff and... the risqué.

AND THIS IS A PLAYLIST OF....

Yah your reading right. Over 257 songs. Remixes, Fanmade, Originals and so much more!

CHECK THIS OUT!

Ya, 6 links up but they lead too some really good fan comics. I consider small panels one and full series. Feel free teh let me know or suggest some!

.......My stuff lol so can keep track.

Prologue of a sorta half-planned au Splatoon story.

And an INDEPTH AND UPDATED AGENT 4 SIDE ORDER THOERY BLOG!

This a rather interesting Reddit Post about how music effects Inklings and Octolings!

An A.I Assistant thoughts(?) On Octo Expansion sanitizing and dah memverse cure...

These are also link's tah my Artwork.

And my more r3cent digital work...word of warning I take weeks tah months just tah finish one..I'm a bit of a perfectionist and detail lover lol...

#splatoon 3 #splatoon 2 #splatoon #splatoon fandom #splat2n #splatoon3 #splatoon oc #new squidbeak splatoon #splat series #splatoon 1 #splatoon fanfiction #splatoon music #splatoon remix #splatbands #splatoon art #splatoon2 #splatoon idols #splatoon agents #nintendo #youtube #splatoon comic #squitter #inkstagram #side order #octo expansion #story heromode #deep sea metro #agent 8 #agent 3 #agent 4

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 11

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn A/N: LADIES N GENTLEMEN, THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! there are multiple POV changes in this, I'm training yall for the arena and Mockingjay. FYI: I was so disheartened bc this felt like the worst past I've written for this story :(((

Past (xii) - Finnick

[ 21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick is sitting at his desk, probably looking as worn out and exhausted as he feels. It’s the early hours of the morning, and he hasn’t slept for the past two days. He’s been writing for hours, trying to find the right words to say. The sun had just set when he poured himself into the seat, and now, he glances to his left, the first tendrils of sunlight are peaking up.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Finnick's labored breathing. His hands are shaking, a side effect of the stress that has been building inside him like a pressure cooker. Snow's visit has left him reeling, unable to process the implications of the deal he's been forced to make. He knows he has to write you a letter, but the thought fills him with a sense of despondency. Something that normally fills him with insurmountable excitement and anticipation fills him with devastation. It feels like, like…there’s nothing he can compare it to. Not everything feels like something else and Finnick knows this kind of grief is very rarely experienced. 

What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t opened the last letter you sent, knowing it will be the last one that won’t carry the weight of mourning. He knows that you'll write to him again, that you won’t take this lying down. You’ll write and write, and he will...he will do nothing.

It sits in front of him, innocuous and unassuming. Something devastating folded in a green envelope and wrapped in your scent like a well-dressed bomb. Does his fear outweigh his longing for you?

He picks it up, holding it gingerly in his hands.

No, he realizes, it doesn’t.

He’s careful to tear the seal on the flap and your perfume wafts up like a surprise. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent, trying to steel himself for what comes next.

Dear Finn,

I feel like I’ve missed you longer than I’ve had the chance to know you. It's been three months now, but maybe by the time this letter gets to you, we'll both be on our way to the Capitol. I'm working on being more optimistic, but that uphill battle is becoming steeper the longer I'm away from you. 

I keep thinking about when I first met you. When I looked into your eyes, I didn't see fireworks exploding or any of that other shit they depict in those gaudy Capitol romance novels. I looked into your eyes and saw you, something far more breathtaking than fireworks. And what a sight you were.

Three years back, you said something I never agreed with, that it was hard to love you. At the moment, I didn’t get to say what I really wanted to because I was eighteen and the thought of being so emotionally vulnerable made my teeth itch. 

I wanted to say that you aren't hard to love. I wanted to say loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. And that's why it was so difficult. I could never let myself love you—let myself have you because how could I possibly deserve to? But that’s the kicker. It’s not hard to love you, Finn, it’s impossible not to.

Something happened recently that made me realize that I’m not the most forthcoming person when it comes to my feelings. But, Finn, know that my love for you is never in doubt. How I feel about you may be complex, but it’s not complicated. I love you desperately, humanly, simply. Without even trying, you peel me back to my core, but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul. 

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

We may not be next to each other, but we’re under the same sky, and each glowing point on that backdrop of black is a star—a sun at the center of someone’s solar system. 

In some other universe, on a different Earth, there’s a girl in love with a boy whose freckles run like constellations. On another, there’s a girl who’s in love with how her boy’s eyes squint when he smiles.

That's the one constant. There are billions of stars, billions of universes, and I love you in every one of them. 

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’ . Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Maybe , he thinks, maybe there’s a way I can explain why I’m doing this, some kind of code or something. Maybe I can still meet with her, just in secret. But Snow …It always comes back to Snow. 

Snow reads these letters, and surely he'll be more vigilant of Finnick to make sure he keeps his side of the deal. Besides, if you knew the real reason he’s doing this—that it’s against his will, that he wouldn’t even think to do this in his worst nightmare—you’ll latch on, consequences be damned. 

He’s doing this for you. He has to remind himself that it’s your life on the line here, not just his heart.

Still. 

He's careful when folding the letter back, only bending it along the preexisting lines. He sets it beside himself. 

He picks up a piece of paper from the stack in front of him tucked against the wall, twirling his pen along his fingers. His leg bounces, nails tapping on the desk. 

He writes something down and comes to a stuttering halt. It isn't good enough. He crumbles it up, throws it in the trash, and picks up a new one. 

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's stuck in a loop, unable to find the right words. The pressure is building, and he can feel himself starting to crack. He needs to get this done, needs to find a way to say goodbye.

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. The words are eluding him, and he's starting to feel like he's lost his grip on reality.

Finally, he puts pen to paper and the words flow out of him like a dam breaking. He writes about his love for you, about how much he misses you, about how impossible it is to imagine a future without you. He writes about his fear and his grief, about the weight of the world on his shoulders. He writes you goodbye. 

When he's done, he holds your letter carefully, tucking it back into its envelope. He knows what he has to do, knows that there's no turning back now. 

With trembling hands, he picks up the tan envelope and slides his letter inside. He seals it with a kiss, feeling the weight of his decision like a physical burden. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and places the letter on the stack in front of him. It's done. The words are written, the decision made. 

He sits back in his chair, feeling numb and hollow. He doesn't know what comes next, but he knows that he'll face it head-on. For you.

Past (xii) - You 

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

Finnick's reply came faster than you expected it to. 

You plop down in your office chair, giddy as you rub at your sore cheeks. You've been smiling like an idiot since you picked up the letter from the Mayor's office. You tear into the envelope and pause. 

The words are kind of smudged, dried drops of something smearing the ink. Luckily, you can still read it. 

My heart, 

My moon and stars. 

I must have rewritten these words at least a dozen times by now. You should see the pile of crumpled paper next to me. You'd call it wasteful, but I'm sure you'd be secretly charmed by how nervous you make me after all these years. 

There's no way to dance around it, and I know how much you hate when people mince their words.

It pains me to think it, let alone write it. This will be my last letter to you. 

I know you have a hundred and one questions bouncing around that beautiful brain of yours, you'll want to know why. And the answer is, there is no why. I've decided that it's best, for both of us, to stop. Stop the letters, stop the meetings. 

It ends here. 

I don't want you to hate me. But if that makes it easier for you to stay away from me, then despise me. More than the Peacekeepers, more than the Capitol, more than Snow. Take that loathing and hold onto it like you used to hold me. 

But, selfishly, I want you to know what I'll be holding onto. 

Those little moments outside of time where you and I were the center of each other's universe, two stars orbiting each other. The balcony of my room, the floor of yours. 

I want you to know this because I don't want you to doubt that I love you. 

Because I do. I love you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough. I could say it until my tongue falls off and I'd find a way to sign it to you. 

I could live a thousand lifetimes, be a thousand different people, and I will never love someone like I love you. 

I think of your smile and I fall in love again. I think of your touch and I fall in love again. I won't leave you without you knowing this. I'd sooner stop breathing. 

There are plenty of things I should be thanking you for, but if I tried to make a list, I'd run out of paper. 

I felt...free with you. As free as anyone can be in our situation. I've never felt so close to another person before—I never let myself. 

I thought it would pass eventually, like a sand castle when it's high tide. Noticeable, beautiful, but temporary.

But I can tell you now, that was such bullshit . Since that first dance, there was never a moment I wasn’t in love with you. I loved you before I knew I was capable of it, before I knew I had it in me, and you had my heart before I even knew it was there. I saw the thorns of your past and held my hands out, ready to bleed if it meant I could touch you.

And that scared me. The very thing that gave me strength was my biggest weakness. That’s a hard pill to swallow at sixteen and it’s just as daunting at twenty-two. 

Years ago, you asked me if I could wish for anything, what would it be. I still wish I was a different person, someone you could be proud of. And I wish that person got to grow old with you. 

God, you don't know how badly I want to grow old with you.  

I have no doubt that there's a planet out there under a different sun where we end up together. Hand and hand with the two kids we always talked about. A little girl that'll have me wrapped around her finger because she'll look just like you. And a little boy that'll drive you up the wall because he's a little too much like me. That universe is where my heart lives.  

We'll find it someday, just you and me. Until then, they'll find our love written in the stars. In every constellation.  

-Yours until words lose meaning,  

Finnick O.  

You reread the letter. Then reread it again. You keep rereading it until the words refuse to sit still, letters blurring together. 

It ends here? What’s he talking about? He can't possibly mean the two of you. He can't. 

But he’s ending it. He ended it . Why would he—? He said there’s no reason, but…but there has to be. 

You try to think of anything you did—anything you said that could have led to this but you're coming up blank. 

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know. 

The letter says that he loves you, and you thought you knew he loved you, but it’s pretty hard to believe that when he’s leaving you.

He promised he'd stay with you, he promised , and Finnick doesn't break his promises. Not with you. No. Not after everything you've been through together. You only have each other. 

The paper falls from your trembling hands to the desk. 

No . You only have Finnick. But, Finnick—he doesn't want you anymore, right? So, where does that leave you? What else do you have? 

A grandfather clock ticks in the background, though it sounds muted to your ears. 

You look down at the paper and find wet spots, ink more smeared than it was before. Your cheeks are wet. Are you crying?

Stupid. You wipe at your cheeks roughly—angrier at yourself than you are at him. There are a million and one reasons this could have happened and they all begin and end with you. You have no one to blame but yourself.

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken. 

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same. 

You’re so cold. You don't think you've ever been this cold before. Not even when you were nine and you got such bad hyperthermia that you couldn’t work for the rest of the winter. He always ran hot, you think distantly. And all his warmth has left you. 

You hold on to yourself because no one else will. You would have preferred your body breaking. At least that heals. 

“I can’t,” you weep, stuttering over betrayal and loss, “I can’t do this on my own.”

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs . Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected. 

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Did you get ahead of yourself? Thinking anything could last with someone who shines as bright as him? Maybe…maybe if you were a little more like him, if you shined just as bright. 

You scoff. 

You’re not a star, you’re not even the moon. How can the sun love the same darkness it chases away?

He described the ocean to you once. Vast and endless, like it could go on forever. And he told you about all the people who get lost at sea. Now you’re one of them. 

You have capsized, water rushing up past your neck and into your mouth and nose, just as salty as your tears. Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you can’t breathe and no one will come for you because you're as good as dead.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway. 

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

Present (X) - Finnick 

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL

It’s a last resort, a unanimous choice between them all. A wordless decision that the victors made to appeal to the Capitol citizens. Though they’re all using different means, it’s all for the same result. That’s what Finnick has to remind himself when he’s called on stage after Beetee. 

The crowd screams at his entrance and he locks his hands behind his back. He smiles while nodding to his adoring fans as he stands beside Caesar.

“Finnick, I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody.” The crowd hoots and hollers at the dramatics of it all and the idea of one of them being the special someone close to his heart. He chuckles and looks down. The Capitols being painfully predictable is finally paying off. All according to plan. “Can we hear it?”

He could spew some generic flowery shit that could apply to literally anyone he’s come in contact with, but…

He looks at the camera. There will be fourteen victors coming up to perform before you, so you should still be in your dressing room. Are you watching? Watching him?

"My love, my star . My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star. 

“Oh, my. That’s very touching, Finnick. Isn’t it? I’m sure whoever it is, is listening and feeling truly loved.” 

“I hope you’re right, Caesar.”

They allowed Mags to opt out of her interview on account of her not being able to speak. How kind , he scoffs. And as he settles on the raised platform beside her, he briefly squeezes her hand. 

You okay? He mouths and she nods with a smile. 

One by one, each victor comes with their own approach to sway the masses. Oh, he knows there's no way they'll be canceling the games. Finnick is more likely to drain the ocean with a teaspoon before Snow even considers stopping this cruelty. But it’s worth a shot, he supposes. It can’t possibly make going into the arena any worse.

Besides Johanna's impassioned speech, nothing the other victors do stands out to him. Then, you're called out.  

He sinks his teeth into his lip as the audience applauds at your entrance.

From what he can recall, your outfit is a remix of the dress you wore in your first interview as if it has aged and matured with you. It’s gained a long train and the hip-high thigh slits that your stylist is known for.

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

He blinks when the crowd breaks into raucous laughter and he realizes he’s missed something.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. The crowd laughs with him and your cheeks must hurt from holding that coy smile. "Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. Finnick doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t think you’d use the violin as your strategy. Mostly because of how much you hate it. Or maybe you don’t anymore. Maybe you’ve grown to love it and he’s none the wiser. “Can you play it for us now?" The crowd clamors in ooohs and ahhhs at the idea. It has always been a privilege to hear you play. Finnick watches your face closely.

It wasn't your favorite thing to do, by far, but you took to it like a fish to water. Usually, Snow would have you play at the more "personal" get-togethers. But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick . And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory. 

“You’re kind of putting me on the spot here, but, sure. I would love to play it for you all.” You laugh. You place the instrument under your chin and position your fingers and bow.

And you play .

It's not showy like the pieces you usually play for the public. Not grand or performative, but soft and soulful. Melancholy. It feels nostalgic almost, like something you would write for him. 

The haunting melody carries throughout the silent room as if everyone is breathing with the lilting notes. Everyone but Finnick—who holds his breath. 

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it. 

It sounds like a goodbye. 

You come to a stop and Finnick's lungs stop constricting with your movements.

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

“That was marvelous , my dear. Truly moving—wasn’t that moving?” He asks the audience, and Finnick will be surprised if there’s a dry eye in the crowd. Even their applause sounds sad. 

“Thank you, Caesar.” You nod at the praise. “You taught me so much—all of you. If I had known this would be the last time I got to play for you—” You trail off into a sob and the crowd coos. The words may be fake, but he isn’t too sure about the tears. He wonders if you think you won’t make it out of the arena alive—not that he would let that happen. If he could just talk to you, and have an actual conversation, he could know what you’re thinking.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry. 

You’re met with a standing ovation as you climb to your place on the platform. With the way the victors are positioned, he stands directly behind you. Or, well, strictly speaking, he’s more diagonal than directly behind you. Still, how lucky is he? He could, theoretically, lean forward and catch a whiff of your perfume—

He gathers himself, straightening up and lacing his fingers behind his back. He squeezes the space between his thumb and forefinger.

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes. 

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

"You know Katniss and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't…if—" Peeta stops himself, glancing around nervously.

"If it weren't for what? What?"

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Now, that catches his attention. Gasps echo throughout the room at Peeta’s revelation. Finnick’s eyebrows almost touch his hairline with how high they raise. Caesar tries to do damage control, but the situation is quickly escalating. 

“Call off the games!”

“This is cruel!”

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous. 

Chaos unfurls in a way he never thought the Capitols were capable of. They’ve always been so docile; sheep shepherded into any direction Snow leads them. But it makes sense. The romance act was meant to fool the Capitol and fool them it has. He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now. 

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

He looks over, brows furrowed, as Mags takes his hand with a proud smile and he glances down in time to see you take Chaff’s hand. He pauses for a moment before taking the hand the woman from Five offers him. In sync, the victors all raise their hands in a show of solidarity. 

“Stop the games!”

“Call them off!”

Finnick grins big at the mayhem unfolding before him and they keep shouting long after the lights cut out.

Present (X) - You & Finnick

[23 & 24 ] - THE CAPITOL

“Star!”

It didn't take long for the tributes to be escorted off the platforms and as he chases after you, Finnick realizes that he vastly underestimated just how many people stood between you and him. He isn't sure if he's too far away for you to hear or if you’re actively ignoring him.

”Star!” Finnick pushes through the crowd of victors and stage crew to get closer. Chaff glances at him and now he knows for sure that you’re ignoring him.

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “ The message was for you! ”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God , it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy. 

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

There are dozens of eyes on him, people milling around as if they aren’t honed in on whatever this is. He can’t blame them for being curious, he’s a little confused himself. He went into this with no plan, not that he would have been able to stick to one with how you’re looking at him.

“What?” The lingering crowd fully parts for him as he approaches, and you regard the gathering audience warily. 

“What I said, the message—it was for you.” He repeats. 

He can’t afford to be coy, that hasn't worked the last dozen times he's attempted a conversation with you and it definitely won't work now. He knows if he doesn’t catch you now, there won’t be any more chances.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight. His eyes are locked intently on you, either unaware of all the attention he’s captured or just uncaring.

You look over to Chaff for some kind of help and he smirks at your growing embarrassment. You watch in disbelief as he walks away using the excuse of finding Seeder to escape. 

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes. 

"Can you please just,” he shifts his weight on his feet, "can you look at me, Star? Please, just look at me." He lifts his hand like he aims to reach out to you, but hesitates. 

This situation is developing into something far more intimate than your current company should allow. More intimate than you should allow. You can always just walk away, turn your back to him and get on one of the idle elevators—let it end here once and for all. The only thing stopping you would be the completely unfounded guilt. 

You don't owe him anything, let alone your time. 

And, yet. 

Maybe you can get some kind of closure and set clear boundaries before you go into the arena—and that reasoning sounds weak even to you.

Both of you could die tomorrow and truthfully, you don't want to walk away from him; you've never wanted to.

Besides, it's not like he can hurt you any worse than he already has. 

Finnick jolts when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, a sensation he should be accustomed to but has grown foreign. 

You pull him aside away from eavesdropping ears, but not from nosey eyes. You feel like a spectacle, with how front and center Finnick has made this, but when haven't you?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You question him in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know what this is or what you think this is, but it is not the place for it. What if this gets back to Snow—”

“I don’t care.”

“—There’s already so much…what?”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, and for once, he’s not lying. “I don’t care if they hear us, or—or if this gets back to Snow.”

Your jaw shifts as you narrow your eyes up at him and there’s that anger he’s been expecting.

“Please, Star. Just…just let me speak.” He begs. Your face goes blank, a mask slotting into place like a lock with a key that Finnick has long since lost the right to. He blocks out the chatter around him. 

“Not here.” For a moment, he thinks he’s being rejected until you grab his wrist and drag him behind you. The elevators are filling in droves and you just so happen to pick the one housing some of the last people he wants to witness this. 

Haymitch takes one look at your faces and the grip you have on his wrist and raises his hands in defense. 

Haymitch turns to Katniss and Peeta. “Nuh-uh, believe me. You do not wanna be locked in here with them.” He shakes his head and steps out without a backward glance and you contemplate going with him. “I’ll meet you guys up there.”

Johanna steps on in his place, elevator doors closing behind her. She looks between the four of you and whistles. Finnick sighs.

“There’s the happy couple.” You glance at Peeta and Katniss because she certainly isn’t talking about the two of you. “You caused quite the stir out there. Why didn’t you tell us you were expecting? We could have thrown you a baby shower.” You sigh through your nose. You don’t even have it in you to intervene in this conversation.

“What the hell is a baby shower—”

“We didn’t know how everyone would take it.” Peeta cuts Katniss off. “We’re already the newest victors. The baby might’ve painted an even bigger target on our backs.” He says without stuttering once.

“That’s a fantastic answer, Peeta.” Johanna crows sarcastically. “Did Haymitch prep you on that one or did you come up with it on your own?”

“No. No, it’s all me.” He assures with a downward smile. It certainly is all him. He’s the mastermind behind all of this, right? Ironically enough, Finnick doubts Katniss had any real part in making this ‘baby scandal’.

Finnick opens his mouth to make a quip but thinks better of it. You’re already aggravated at his presence and he honestly doesn’t want to remind you that he’s here. His only consolation is that you’re still holding his wrist, all five pads of your fingers are searing points on his skin.

Peeta gives you an imploring look, eyebrows raised as if to ask if you’re alright and you nod and—when did that happen?

It’s quiet, with no other sound than the nearly inaudible woosh of the elevator going between floors. No one makes an effort to break the steadily growing awkward silence. Finnick does, however, make the mistake of making eye contact with Johanna. She mouths you’re dead at him over your head and, yeah, that definitely fills him with much-needed confidence. 

Present (X) - Finnick

[21 & 22] -  THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“Alright. You wanted to speak.” Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. “Speak.” 

He stays where he’s standing a couple of feet away. He probably should have figured out what to do on the elevator ride, but, again, he’s without a plan. “Did you hear my message? When I was up there with Caesar? I know you were still getting ready—did you hear it?”

“I might’ve.” You shrug and cross your arms, still so stubborn. “Great strategy by the way. I’m sure you’ll reel in plenty of sponsors.”

“God, Star, it wasn’t for them. It wasn’t even for the fucking movement.” You raise a brow at his words but give no further outward reaction. He moves to stand before you, each step more unsure than the last. Your glare is scorching, but there’s been enough space between the two of you to house the sun. “Do you remember when you said my poetry was a gift? And—and that I shouldn’t waste it on them? You said you would never be tired of anything I do. Do you remember that night? What I said?” He implores. It was a special night full of promises and you gave him more than he deserved.

You look him over with a critical eye long enough that he’s sure you’re just not going to answer. Especially when you turn to stare off to the side before sighing out of your nose.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you. A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I. Everything I do, I do for you.” It only takes him half a second to recognize the lines and he’s stunned, transported back to that garden under the stars. “I remember all of them…I remember everything you’ve made for me.” You give him fleeting peripheral glances and avoid his gaze like you’re ashamed of that. 

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration. 

You stare down at him, giving no indication that anything he’s said has swayed you. He grits his teeth through the sting of rejection and sighs, arms falling to his sides.

“I can’t tell you how sorry—”

“Why now?” You cut him off. “It’s been two years. You don’t owe me anything, Finnick, so if this a guilt thing—”

“I–It’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not…it’s not why I’m here.” He sits back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair. “We could die tomorrow. And I don’t want you going into that arena thinking that I don’t love you or…or that I wanted to leave you.”

You squint at him, face twisting into a sour scowl.

“You said,” you drawl, slow and drawn out like you’re explaining something fundamental to a child, “you thought it was best if we ended it.”

He shakes his head. “I lied. I had to and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I know saying sorry won’t be enough, but please know sending that letter was the last thing I wanted to do. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“What? What are you talking about? You said—”

He holds his hands up, stopping your completely warranted stream of questions.

“I know. I know what I said and I never would have said it if Snow hadn’t shown up at my house—”

“Snow showed up at your house?” Your arms unfold and you lean forward so suddenly that he almost flinches back. “When?” 

“Uh, a few weeks before I sent the letter. He’s the only reason I even sent it.” He scoffs, remembering the state he was left in after Snow offered the ultimatum. He doesn’t need to try to remember the words written in the letter he sent you because he’s never forgotten. They’re tattooed on the back of his eyelids, seared into his memory every time he blinks.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this ? What could have possibly been worth giving you up? 

“Snow he–he was convinced that our relationship would somehow lead to—civil unrest. His solution was to get rid of one of us, get rid of you . I couldn’t let that happen. He never explicitly said it, but you know how he is, how he speaks …I was scared. I was. I didn’t—” His voice cracks and you stare down at him with stunned, wide eyes. He wants to shuffle closer. He wants to sway into you and take some kind of comfort. But he doesn’t. “I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t just tell you because you would have tried to find some kind of loophole and we couldn’t afford to make him more hostile than he already was.”

You look to your left out of the wall-length windows and smirk, completely throwing Finnick off. 

"Star?"

You stand. He watches as you pace the length of the room before turning on your heel and walking onto the balcony. He can do nothing more than follow you. 

“He came to my house too, you know. Around the same time, I think. He wanted to remind me about how privileged I am.” You snort and that sick feeling is developing in his stomach, organs twisting to make room for the settling dread. He isn’t sure what he thought you’d do in light of the revelation, what he expected you to say, but it’s not this. “Went on about how thankful I should be that he was allowing us to be in a relationship and…and that as long as I kept myself in line, I could keep you.” You sigh, propping your elbows on the railing and placing your face in your hands.

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

“We played right into his hand, Finnick. He gained something from this, bastard that he is.” You scoff. You turn and sit with your back against the glass railing. "That's all that matters to him."

Finnick stews on it and many things are starting to make sense. In the months leading up to the event, the two of you started seeing each other less and less. Long periods where all he had was your perfume and words to keep him company. And considering Snow was the only way either of you were allowed to come to the Capitol…Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now .

"I should have known better. Snow was never gonna kill you, he's too fucking— God .” He stops and shakes his head. All of the lost time, the unnecessary pain. 

“Come sit down, Finn.”

Finn. 

He hasn't been called that in a long time. He takes a second to stare unseeingly at the stars before sliding down beside you.

It's quiet. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if there's anything he should say, and he's sure you feel the same. But he does know if it was up to you, you'd both sit in silence for the foreseeable future and he has two years' worth of confessions to make. 

“The mo—” he stops, overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, but nothing feels good enough, “I loved you the moment you laughed at my stupid joke the first time we danced together and I have loved you ever since. Even when I wasn’t there to show you, even when I—I left you. I’ve loved you the entire way, Star. There are billions of suns out there, billions of universes, and I love you in every one.”

Your head whips up.

“I remember everything you’ve made for me too.” Your mouth twists, brows furrowing as you stare at him and he can’t express in words how good it feels to be seen.

"I don’t hate you.” You shrug a shoulder, smiling small and quick. “You said ‘even if you still hate me’, I don’t hate you.”

“...You don’t?” 

“I tried to. For a while, I thought I did." He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. “But I just… couldn’t . I didn’t even want to, after a while. I was just tired.”

His head thumps against the railing. He closes his eyes. There's a question on his tongue, an answer he shouldn't need but wants regardless. 

“Is that why you stopped sending letters?” When he opens his eyes again, he’s relieved by the fact that you’re still facing him.

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten. “I just…I was fine waiting for you, Finnick. It was hard, but it didn’t hurt. Not too bad, at least. I would’ve waited a thousand years because it would have been worth it to hold you for a second. And I could get through that because I knew you were waiting for me too. But, I realized you were never coming. And, eventually, I realized…you weren’t waiting either." You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs as you pull your knees up. He stiffens, freezing in place as he tries to slow his heartbeat. 

He drops his head, brows furrowed as he tries, and fails, to stop tears from forming. It's just, it's cruel . The one thing he promised himself he'd never do—leave you, hurt you—he had to do for you. 

He wipes his face, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes. 

"Star, I…I would never…It killed me to write that letter, you have to know that, right? Right ?" He implores, voice rough while his breath hitches repeatedly. His throat feels tight and swollen as he stutters over the words in his chest. The words you have to hear, the words he needs you to hear. You stare forward, refusing to look at him anymore and he turns to face you full-on, refusing to look at anything but you. "How can I let you know that? What can I do—to prove—that I'm sorry ?"

He thought you both had changed, changed too much to be fluent in what you two used to have. He thought it was a different language, but here, up close, he can see that it’s not so much a new language as it is a cipher. You just had to let him get close enough to understand again. He had always thought you had such an open face, it was a wonder to him how you were able to lie so eloquently when you could never lie to him. But it wasn’t until he was shut out that he realized you were letting him read you, subconsciously or otherwise. He reads you now, eyes tracing your face eagerly—hungrily, and finds…remorse?

"I know you’re sorry. I know. And logically, knowing the truth should make it easier to get over it.” Your mouth opens and closes, hesitating. “But you left me." He nods hard enough to hurt his neck. "I did." And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. "You left me, Finnick. I know it isn’t rational to feel this way knowing you didn’t want to, but…” You lick your lips, resting your cheek on your knee. When you look up at him, actually look at him and not somewhere over his shoulder, the glossy state of your eyes has him digging his nails into his hands to ground himself. "It’s just—it’s more than a little hard to dissociate you from that hurt." I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

"...I'm sorry too." You say and he wants to tell you there’s nothing to apologize to him about, but you lock your pinky with his and it’s entirely unexpected and truly enough to make his throat tighten, and all he can manage is a wistful sigh at the feeling of coming home.

Far below them, the sound of the city is dampened by the distance but no less heard. He goes to speak but spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. It’s your ankle. Or specifically, what’s on your ankle.

“You wore it?” He asks, touching the fraternal twin of his own bracelet. He appraises what he thought was lost reverently. Tracing the grooves of the shells, the divets in the charms, the rough twine of the rope—it all feels like a live wire under his fingers.

“I never took it off.” You slip your heel off, loosening the straps of the bracelet and wiggling it down your foot. “I just thought it might be a little sad to parade it around when you didn’t want me.”

“There will never be a moment on this Earth of me not wanting you, not while I still have air in my lungs. Not even after.” 

“And how’ll you manage that?” You ask, your eyes crinkling in that old mirth you used to wear around him like a beauty mark.

“For you? I’ll find a way.” He promises.

You hum, appraising the jewelry for a second before passing it to him. He can’t help but smile when you lift your hand, silently prompting him. He places the bracelet on you, tightening it on your wrist. It feels like muscle memory when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on the center shell.

The corner of your mouth twitches up and you nod. “Okay.”

He leans in, placing a hand on the base of your neck and pulling you towards him and he’s still in awe that you actually let him. He holds the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his slender waist. 

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, it wouldn’t be fair to.” He murmurs into the crown of your hair. “But after we do this, I want the chance to make it up to you." He'll spend the rest of his life mending what he tore apart if you let him.

“I think…I’d like that.” You speak into his chest and he feels your voice more than he hears it. “It was for you too.”

“What was?”

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

“ Star .” He begs you beseechingly, and there’s no hesitation when you look up at him and he grins. It feels like it’s been years. “There you are.”

You smile. It's small and heavier than he remembers, but it's there and he is as whole as he will ever be.

A/N: IMAGINE POURING YOUR HEART OUT AND EXPRESSING HEARTFELT INTIMACY TO THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE JUST TO GET DUMPED yeesh. fun fact: "...but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul." I actually texted this to my beta reader about Finn from Adventure Time after seeing an edit bc I love him so much, but then I converted it into Finnick love. also, Finnick's letter was one of the first things I wrote for this story months ago. That balcony talk was inspired by Hozier's Unknown/Nth WE IN THE ARENA NEXT CHAPPY

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week #finnick #finnick odair fanfic #catching fire #the hunger games x reader #hunger games smut #hunger games fanfiction #finnick fanfic #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #the hunger games

[theshinazugawaslut]

Always here to help, Esha😘💕

Anyway, thoughts on Toxic Nemi? Not like super toxic but like…still toxic yk?😵‍💫

Controlling, manipulative, and possessive; those are the best three words to use for toxic Sanemi. Whether it's set in the canon-verse or a modern AU (I've written this with more of a modern-AU in mind but I wouldn't mind making two seperate ones on request. However, I do also use references to the canon verse (training, missions, ect.).)

He loves you, he really does — he doesn't want to ever have to hurt you but he's doing it for your own good, don't you understand?

It's not that he doesn't trust you, it's that he doesn't trust others around you. How can you blame him? You have such beautiful, shimmering eyes and the prettiest smile, you could tempt anyone.

It starts off small: clingy little gestures like always keeping an arm around you, perhaps his rough hands dig just right into the plump flesh of your hips or perhaps his arm wraps around your sweet stomach, forearm resting against your belly whilst his fingers stroke some skin under your shirt as you go out shopping with him, excitedly showing him something you like. He listens to you but his lilac eyes burn into every passerby, his gaze almsot shadowing you from anyone's view with the promise of bloody murder in those eyes you find so very sweet.

He stands unnecessarily close to you, invading every inch of personal space he possibly can with that charming smile on his face, wants your eyes on just him and wants to make sure he can shield you from everyone else's filthy eyes.

If you're going out — mission, training, or in a modern AU where you're going shopping, visiting a friend — Sanemi is already slipping on his shoes and his haori (or jacket), looking at you with his usual serious face.

"I'm comin' with you, sweetheart," he says simply, blunt fingertips gentle brushing against your cheek, placing a chaste kiss on your jaw to make you listen. "Can't let you out alone, can I? What typa man would that make me, hmm?"

He swears it's for your safety and even when you protest you're meeting a friend at a cafe or simply going on a mission, he's tagging along, snarling when you try to deny him.

"Why do you not want me to come? Are you hiding something from me? Do I embarrass you?" he asks, making his eyes vulnerable and soft, making himself look sad and hurt, the way he knows that'll make you sag your shoulders and let him come along.

Hence, Sanemi follows you everywhere, even in the house. If you're sitting down — writing a letter to another Hashira or in a modern-day verse, texting someone on your phone — he's got an arm around your shoulder, lilac eyes watching your every move sharply.

"Baby, who's that?" he asks innocently, pointing to a contact as you had been mindlessly scrolling down your list of numbers to find a specific one.

"Oh, he's a friend from highschool," you answer and he scowls.

"Remove him," he orders and when you try to deny him, he nuzzles himself into your neck. "Baby, please, you care about me more, right? Not this rando, hmm?"

He grins when he watches you delete the contact.

He's also a bit shameless to get his point across to your friends and all the other people who ogle at your pretty person, kissing and suckling softly at your neck in public even as you squeal in protest.

He veils threats as well, ones he disguises as teasing or jokes but will wholeheartedly act upon should he deem he should.

"Tch, fuckin' bastard, I'll break his hands if he thinks of touching you."

"Do you really need to be visiting your family all the time? It'd be a shame if they got sick of you..."

"Baby doll... Don't keep talking to that idiot, I'll lock you in the house."

He doesn't like you going out to meet other people. Hell, he doesn't even want you to work (as a Hashira or as anything else in a modern-day verse).

He doesn't care if it's your family, friends, colleagues. He's all you should need. All you should want.

So he kisses you madly when you try to leave the house, wraps (traps) you up in muscled arms and kisses you breathless, senseless; littering mulberry, dark hickeys onto your jaw, neck, collar, undoing your clothes so he can worship your cunt.

"See, baby? 'm all ya need," he murmurs against your clit, licking at your folds, plunging his wet muscle into your hole as you cry out. "Let's stay home today, you can go 'nother day."

He marks you often as well — there's not a day where you aren't desperately trying to wear scarves to hide the mark of Sanemi's teeth against your neck or his love bites all across your body.

"You look so pretty, what are you doing?" he says, brows furrowing as he removes the scarves to gaze at you in the looking glass. He looks angry, scowl marring his rugged features. "You don't like them? You don't like what I do with you, to you?"

Your eyes widen, trying to explain yourself desperately before he gets upset, before he gets angry, and keeps you here till you apologise. "No, 'Nemi, of course I love it but it's a bit innappropriate-"

"-I love you and you're calling it indecent?" he hisses, hands coming on your shoulder to turn you around. "You truly think I'm some sorta monster than you gotta hide what I do to you? I thought you loved me."

"I do, I do, I do, I love you so much, 'Nemi, I won't wear the scarves, I promise," you murmur, grabbing his face to kiss him, and he smiles against your lips, victorious.

Sanemi controls your every aspect soon. He likes your fashion but he'd prefer if you'd only doll up just for him, and if you wish to go out, he's damn well at your side.

He glowers at you as you excitedly show him a dress you plan on wearing for the day and when your doe eyes widen in upset that he doesn't like it, he kisses your neck, up your jaw, then your temple, kissing you multiple times, his mouth like a drug to you.

"God, you look gorgeous," he murmurs, "but it's too much, hmm? Change into that lilac dress, yeah? You'll look so much sweeter, doll."

It started off like that but it's get to the point that he starts throwing tantrums, desperate and pathetic, when he sees you wear a dress that shows off the shoulders that he ends up kissing till they're bruised.

When you start crying, he cradles your face, kissing your face all over, wetly and open-mouthed. "Oh, baby, I only want what's best for you, don't you want to listen to me?" He cups the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, mouth desperately kissing your cheek, your nose, your brow. "Oh, don't cry, baby... I'm only doing what's best for you, why won't you listen to me? You wouldn't be crying if you'd. Just. Listen." One hand moves to squeeze your waist, to stroke the tender skin of your lower stomach where your womb lay beneath. "You wanna look pretty? I'll make you look fuckin' pretty- Why're you so damn stubborn? I love you, I love you so goddamn much and this is how you repay me? I buy all the pretty shit you wear, I buy it all for you so you fuckin' owe it to me to listen to me. Aye? Got it?"

When you nod, tears being stroked gently off your face, Sanemi smiles as though he hadn't even yelled at you or kissed you senseless. "Atta girl, my good girl."

But other times, it's not about what you wear but more of who you talk to, he scowls when he catches you talking to someone, and heaven forbid you manage to hang out/train with someone else without him finding out.

He keeps a track of you, always, whether you like it or not. If it's keeping a tracker on you or perhaps stalking you whenever you leave.

He'll go beserk, yelling and huffing, grabbing at your elbows, trying to drag you back home where you belong, and if that doesn't work, he'll cry and beg for you to never leave him, sobbing against your thighs that he wants you stay.

"Why did you lie to me?" he cries. "I thought- I thought you trusted me, don't you love me? I trust you with all my heart, I do everything for you, why can't you love me back the same?!"

And he lets that guilt fester at your heart, makes sure you never even try to utter the word 'break up' or 'leave' him (and if you ever even tried, he'd cover that pretty mouth of yours that he loves so much with his large, broad hand, his eyes bloodshot and crazed, kissing your forehead softly as his hand tightens your delicate face and squeezes till it feels your cheekbones will snap and teeth will shatter. "Don't even dare," he whispers against your ear, kissing your earring, "I'll fucking strangle you if I have to, if it means you'll stay, or maybe I should strangle that darling sister you care so much for...").

He proposes to you quite quickly as well — you're his one and only, his piece of perfection, the only one that matters. He plans the wedding precisely how you would want it and it makes you forget all the bad aspects as he dotes on you for the rest of your life, very rarely having to remind you of your place as you become a perfect housewife for him.

You love him just as much now, whining his name when he has to leave for awhile, but he always kisses and bites you, murmurs how much he loves you (and you know he means it).

He makes sure to bounce you on his cock almost every night, loving how you sob his name is ecstacy, and he makes sure to stuff you full until your belly swells nice and round with his children.

God, he's always wanted a big family, he's always wanted to make sure you never had a single fucking choice other than him.

And he loves it, how you give him child after child, how utterly divine you look as you giggle and chatter, carrying his baby as he kisses your stomach over and over whilst his other children play at your feet.

You really couldn't resist him, could you?

#sanemi #anime and manga #sanemi shinazugawa #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #kny #yandere sanemi #husband sanemi

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 3 - "Dinner and Dessert"

AN: Chapter 3 my loves! I hope you enjoy this one :) Also I'm sorry if this is bad I've only ever written smut like 2x before this. If you're looking for better smut, I always always always recommend @lovelykhaleesiii

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

If anyone is interested in me starting a tag list, please feel free to let me know!!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: As the day comes to a close, she can only think of what has happened. With having less than a full day to understand the situation, her thoughts are all consuming. Her beloved twin, Jacaerys, shows he has only ever cared for her.

18+ every one

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT!!!! P in V, Targcest (is it Targcest if their last names are Velaryon?), profanity, dirty talk, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex guys), Jace has a monster in his pants, Jace being kinda dom

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x twin!Reader, mentions of Aemond Targaryen x Reader, mentions of Alys Rivers x Aemond Targaryen

Word count: 3.6 k

Aemond had accompanied me to the Dragon Pit, as was my original intention. And it was time well spent in all honesty. He spoke to me about the time that I was gone. Just as Mother said, he had gone around the entire realm to attempt to find me. Apparently, he had spent a long time in Harrenhal, the seat of my blood father’s family.

What I hadn’t expected, though, was him telling me of this woman he had met there named Alys Rivers. According to him he had grown fond of her and even attempted to be with her. He claimed it was to try to get over me, as all logic pointed to me being dead. I stopped listening.

When I was back in my chambers, with nothing to do but think as I waited for dinner, I could only sit in the window seat overlooking Blackwater Bay. My finding didn’t make sense to me.

If I were taken by pirates like seemed to be a popular theory, why was I not in Essos? I would probably fetch a fair price if they sold me into slavery. Or why had they not demanded ransom? As a princess of the realm, my identity was not a secret, even if I didn’t have the signature Targaryen hair. I had done as much as possible to help the citizens of King’s Landing. I had done a tour of the Seven Kingdoms to meet with several Lords and their sons to consider for marriage. There was not a time in which I was ever hidden away.

“Your brain is going to break if you continue to think so hard,” Jace said from beside me. My gaze snapped to him, trying to steady my heart from the shock. “It is just me, issa dāria.”

“Must you sneak in here like that?” I scolded him yet I was certain the only thing stern about me was my tone. I was too happy to see him to control the smile that crept onto my face.

He was carrying a tray with two plates piled high with food and two cups. He set it on a nearby table before coming back to stand by my side.

“I wanted to have time with you. We have not seen each other since the afternoon,” he explained to me.

He gave me a soft smile. Everything about him was soft. His hair laid in loose curls that bounced with every motion. His lips were plump, eyes round and a deep brown, and even his sharp jawline was offset by full cheeks. Hell, even down to what he wore was soft. A loose fitting, long sleeved white linen shirt with strings crossing over the space between his collarbones tucked into the waistband of his brown cotton pants. Unlike most, he didn’t often wear shoes around the castle unless he had to go before the council or maybe a formal dinner.

No matter how much I loved Aemond, Jace was a part of me. I loved him in nearly every way a person could. He and I were two pieces of the same soul. We could spend all day together and never need a break. He listened to me rant about every subject I ever read about, learned High Valyrian for me. He was good and kind and sweet.

“And the food?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought perhaps dinner with all of us at once may prove to be too much tonight, so you and I could eat in here. I’ve already spoken to Mother and told her,” he said.

I chuckled and stood from my seat. Without any hesitation, he took my hand in one of his hands and pulled me closer by my waist with the other. Standing here, chest to chest with him, the world felt quiet.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly. He was sure not to hold me too tightly.

“Physically I hurt,” I whispered. It was best if I were honest with him. “Otherwise, I’m just confused. None of it makes sense. And to think of missing five years with you causes an unbearable ache in my chest.”

He pressed his lips to my forehead. It was how he comforted me when he had no idea what to say. Always handling me with great care like it was his life’s mission. There was no amount of affection too small to him.

He said nothing else before helping me into a chair at the table. The silence felt nice if I were honest. With him, I didn’t feel like I had missed anything.

“Luke is happy you’re back,” he told me after he had sat down. “So is Joffrey. They missed you greatly.”

“I cannot wait to see them. As well as Little Aegon and Viserys. They all have grown so much,” I responded, tears welling up in my eyes.

My plate had a venison roast with potatoes and carrots. A simple meal but one of my favorites. Dragonstone had the largest deer I had seen which was an impressive feat considering how many dragons roamed free on the island. But with such an abundance of the meat, we had it frequently when we lived there.

“I love you,” he said. He spoke it in such a way nobody could question his sincerity. He had always been honest to a fault.

“I love you,” I said before taking a bite of food. It was perfect and heavenly.

“So then why did you go to Aemond? Why spend the afternoon without me?” His voice was pained and his lip quivered a little.

Did he not know that it was not that way? It wasn’t like I chose Aemond over Jacaerys. He had merely been the one to come to my room.

“My moon, I had been on my way to see Vhaela and he approached me. I did not go seek him out,” I nearly pleaded with him. I reached across the table to take his hand in mine and squeeze it.

“I am not oblivious to the fact you were with him in the year you spent here with grandsire. But you and I are meant to be husband and wife. Formally so, now,” he whispered. His eyes moved to look at his plate.

My heart ached at the thought of hurting him. He was everything to me. My best friend, the moon and stars in my night sky, my fire on a cold night. When I spoke of him being my other half, it was not an exaggeration. Without him there was no me.

Even so, I could not pretend that everything was fine and as it was before I woke on the beach. While I had been stuck in place, everyone around me continued to grow and thrive and change. Pretending they hadn’t was like ignoring the rain as it washes away the earth. I would be fine as long as it was raining and I could use the water to maneuver. But once the flood subsided, I would be stranded without knowing where I was.

“But should we be? It has been five years, Jacaerys. Hell, I wasn’t even with you for a year before I disappeared. What if the person you are now does not love the person I am?”

“I could give you everything you could ever wish for when I am King. I will give you every child your heart could desire, I will love you until my final breath. Why is that not enough?” he asked before looking back up at me. The way he said it made me question if he was more hurt or angry. “Or is this back to the ridiculous notion that since Aegon the Conqueror had two wives you could have two husbands?”

“I wish to know where my heart truly lies. I wish to know if I marry you it is purely for love and not anything to do with duty. Why can you not give me that?”

He was silent for a moment longer than I would have liked. Was it truly an unreasonable request? All I ever wanted was a life of love. I knew Jace would love me for as long as we lived, and I would love him. But if it weren’t an equal love, if it were a love that was weighed down by a sense of duty, where was the honor in that? How could I subject both of us to that?

“So you wish to replace me?” he asked me. He yanked his hand away from me as he pushed up from the table. “I can only assume with Aemond.”

“I am not replacing you!” I said firmly. “You are my twin, my other half, there is no replacing you.”

I quickly stood up too, trying to be on his level, to prove I was on his side. But it was too quickly and I cried out in pain. The Maesters figured it had only been a month at most since they were cracked. As such, they warned me of the potential for severe pain, making it difficult to move or breathe without risking it. At first I thought they were full of shit, but with my ribs feeling like they’re on fire and my breathing causing agonizing pain, I realized I had just been stubborn.

No matter his anger, he rushed to close the distance between us and hold me steady. Even when he was angry or hurt, it was never enough to take over his compassion. Jace truly was too good for this world.

I couldn’t help but nuzzle him as he held me. Never was it my intention to hurt him. I just didn’t want to rob something from him that he above all people deserved. A happy, love filled life.

“How could you do this to me?” he whispered while holding me close. “I have lived without you for over six years. I alone waited for you.”

“It is not something I’ve done to you, Jace,” I insisted. “I do not wish to exclude you. I just want to explore my heart.”

He sighed softly and set me back down in my chair. Kneeling in front of me, he pushed my hair back from my face. I loved him so much. I could only hope he still understood that.

“I have dreamt of you every night since you left my side,” he whispered. “Even so, I cannot make you unhappy. If you are sure, then I will not object. But do not make me stay away from you.”

It was never easy to stay away from him. The first time I ever tried to was when I became aware of how desperately I wanted to cross the lines of what was proper. Being around him had been overwhelming, so I elected to just stay away. But eventually he became frustrated with me and came to my room in the middle of the night to demand answers. That was the night he took my maidenhead. To this day I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

“Then you cannot ask me to stay away from him. I want this to be true and fair, issa dārys,” I whispered to him.

He said nothing, instead moving forward and pushing his lips to mine. His movements were cautious as to avoid causing me more pain in my busted lip, but I could feel a hunger behind it. All thoughts but him left me.

Jace pulled away far too soon, standing from his position in front of me. Within a moment he had me in his arms, holding me off the floor. I couldn’t help but giggle wildly at this. The sound made him smile and then he carried me to my bed.

In truth, for the longest time this was our bed. No matter how often our parents tried, we always found our way back into the same bed. It is why the room is decorated equally in our favorite colors. Once we had painted the wall behind the bed to look like a sunset, mixing stunning oranges and purples that felt like home. Warm and wonderful just like Jace.

“I love you,” he whispered in my ear as he began desperately pulling at the laces along my back that held my dress to me.

“I love you,” I whispered, pulling at his shirt. He pulled back just enough to allow me to pull it over his head and toss it aside before he put his lips to my neck.

My dress fell from my shoulders and chest, leaving my breasts exposed to him. The way Jace stared with nothing short of an animalistic hunger made me whimper in pleasure. Within a matter of moments he was massaging the left one and attaching his lips to the right. He sucked little red marks into the flesh, so insignificant that they would disappear by the morning, but leaving a stinging sensation wherever he touched that reminded me this was real.

When he took my hardened nipple in between his lips, grazing it with his teeth, I gasped in pleasure. It had been far too long since I had felt his touch. He made sure I was aware of it, too. He sucked eagerly, never once stopping the massaging movements he made with his hand. Moans of his name fell from my lips as though he were the god I worshipped.

He pulled away from me with a loud pop. “Always been so perfect for me,” he whispered to me. “Made for me, weren’t you, issa dāria?”

I was rendered speechless as Jace pulled my dress from me completely, followed quickly by his pants. In his naked form he was everything a girl could ask for. His muscles were firm and well defined, biceps large enough so that I could not wrap a hand around them. Any baby fat on his stomach had melted into six individually defined muscles. Somehow there was no hair along his chest, but a small line of hair connected his navel to the curly brown hair at the base of his cock.

Every time I saw his cock, my jaw dropped slightly. He was easily ten inches in length and thick enough so that I could barely touch my thumb and middle finger together when holding it. It was monstrous in size but he was so loving and sweet it never caused excessive pain. His cock was hard, red at the tip with pre-cum beading on it. I glanced up to his face to find him blushing as I looked him over.

“Still so shy after all the nights we spent together?” I asked him quietly.

“You must remember that while it has not been so long for you, it has been damn near seven years for me. So shut up,” he said, blushing even more at my teasing. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“No passage of time could ever change the love I have for you, or how perfect I find you,” I whispered before taking one of his hands in mine.

He moved to hover over me, a knee on either side of my own, his cock resting against my thighs. His eyes were easy to follow as he dragged his gaze along my body, starting at my face and working his way down. Every cut or scar, no matter how small, earned a kiss against the skin. Taking extra care with the bruise on my ribs, he pressed small kisses along the edges of it where it did not cause any pain. The pure intimacy of it was enough to cause a heat to build as my pussy became increasingly wet.

Just as he was about to continue leaving kisses down the rest of my body, I reached down to grab his chin. The touch was enough to get him to connect his gaze with me.

“Love me, Jace,” I whispered, pleading with him. I couldn’t take the sweet torture that was his foreplay.

“You are not ready for me yet, love,” he said.

“I am plenty wet for you. The rest I do not care about,” I told him.

“I do not wish to cause you more pain,” he insisted, but I leaned up and kissed him, my eyes fluttering shut.

This time it was I who kissed him hungrily. Being like this with him, I felt like I had been starving and all that I wanted was right in front of me. My sweet twin, one who had always put me above anyone else. Even now when I can feel how needy he is as his cock leaked pre-cum onto my thigh, he needed to put me above him.

Carefully I slid down some, so that his cock was now resting on my hip. Reaching between us I grabbed it, giving a few lazy strokes. He groaned against my lips when I aligned the tip to my waiting cunt.

He pulled back just enough to separate our lips. My eyes opened quickly so that I could look at him. His eyes were soft, waiting for me to tell him to go.

I nodded ever so slightly. That was all he needed to push forward into me. Already he was moaning my name as he sunk inch after inch into me. It ached quite a lot after not having him inside me for so long. But still, I couldn’t ask him to stop. The ache was pleasurable and needed.

He got nearly three quarters of his cock inside me before he stilled. He was breathing heavily, obviously struggling with restraint but giving me time to adjust. I pressed kisses over every part of his face before laying back so that I could admire him. Jacaerys was a god among men, that I was certain of.

“I’m okay, love,” I whispered to him. One look in my eyes was all he needed to be sure.

He hooked my right leg behind my knee and pulled it to lay against his chest. A cry of both pleasure and pain came out of my lips at the way this caused him to reach further in me than he ever had. There was a small smirk on his face. The cheeky fucker knew exactly what he did.

Setting a near torturous pace, he pulled out of me slowly and pushed back in. The pain I felt was indistinguishable from pleasure. Every twitch and every throb of his cock, I could feel entirely. Then Jace pressed his thumb to my clit, rubbing in tandem with each movement of his hips. When his cock was buried inside me, he rubbed against it eagerly, like he was trying to make me cum right then and there. And then every time my body started tightening up and I began to see stars, he pulled out to just his tip and all but stopped touching my clit.

I glared at him the sixth time he did it while feeling my approaching orgasm back off. It made him chuckle as he bent down, pressing my knee to my shoulder, with only the tip of his cock nestled inside me.

“You feel so good, you know that, love?” he whispered to me. “Feels like your cunt was designed with my cock in mind. Bet I would fit perfectly if I went all the way to my balls, don’t you?” With widened eyes I nodded eagerly. “Have I fucked you stupid already, pretty girl?”

This was a side to him I hadn’t seen before. Normally he was whispering praises to me, thanking the gods for me, and I gave him the same. But it was not unwelcome. In fact, I could feel myself clench around him as a whine built up in my throat.

“That’s okay, baby, don’t need you to say anything. Can feel how much you love this,” he whispered before driving his hips forward.

I wrapped my left leg around his waist so that I could pull him closer into me. Each powerful thrust had me moaning out his name. The sounds of my moans and his heavy balls slapping against my ass was all that could be heard echoing around the room. A wave started building inside me, the intensity of it increasing while he stroked my clit again. This time he never let up.

“Cum around my cock, pretty girl,” he said to me. “Fuck, Y/N, so fucking tight. So perfect for me.” His breathing became more labored as he punctuated each word with a moan.

“Gods, Jace!” I cried out when the orgasmic wave crashed over me. He looked to where his cock sank into me. The evidence of my orgasm soaked his stomach, sliding down his skin and dripping onto the bed.

Jace’s thrusts became erratic as my cunt squeezed around him. Within seconds, he was crying out my name and his hips stuttered to a stop. I could feel every inch of his cock throb and twitch as his cum poured into me.

He was very careful as he pulled out. Both of us whined at the loss of contact, but his turned quickly into a moan when he saw a string of my juices mixed with his between his cock and my body. With a goofy little smile he laid beside me and pulled the blanket up over the both of us.

“You have had my heart for our entire lives,” he whispered to me. “I am not giving yours up without a fight.”

With one last kiss to my forehead, he held me close to him before we both went to sleep.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #smut #out of time

[emeritus-fuckers]

hi ! first of all, i love you guys' writing and headcanons, and i'm absolutely thrilled that ghost requests are open :))

so, i'd like to request a little something with copia (bonus point of it's the cardinal) comforting a gn s/o who basically bursts into tears at the slightest mention of doing art. i've had to drop out of art school because of a mental health crisis and i'm not coping very well lmao

also, i don't mind if you ignore this ask as it can be triggering to read or write, love y'all !!

Cardinal Copia with a darling who bursts into tears at the mention of doing art

He was just listing fun date ideas that he got after asking around.

And then suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, you started bawling your eyes out when he mentioned doing arts and crafts together.

He is absolutely freaking out at you just bursting into tears.

Pulls you into a hug right away, apologizing hectically.

When you manage to calm down a bit, you try to explain why you reacted like this, but he hushes you and swears to never mention it again until you're ready.

If anyone even tries mentioning art with you whenever he's around, he will cover their mouth with both his hands and make nervous (but very loud) attempts at shutting them up.

He does this for as long as it takes until you decide you're ready.

Yes, even if he's already Papa, he will still do that.

If he can't be with you, he's gonna have one of his Ghoulettes accompany you and do that for him. One glare from any of them shuts the other Siblings of Sin quicker than anyone's punch would.

And once you're ready, he will listen. He will hold you tight and listen, not even thinking about making you hurry up with your explanations.

He comforts you to the best of his ability, even if it's not much. He offers to pay for your therapy, now that you're more open about this.

Walks you to every appointment and waits outside, giving you a huge, tight bear hug (he picked those up from Aether) while he covers your face in kisses. Might even do a little twirl with you in the air.

He's proud of you and he's gonna show it, damn it!

He takes you out for a date after each therapy appointment.

It's usually just ice cream or a picnic in the garden, but it's not meant to be showy, it's meant to be just you two spending time together.

If you ever decide you want to actually try it, he will be there with you.

He's terrible with art and he's gonna make an idiot out of himself, but it's so goofy you just can't help but laugh.

He ends up making/painting (depending on what you do) a rat.

Except his rat looks like a kindergartener made it. It does not look like a rat at all.

You two end up gifting each other what you made.

That horrid looking "rat" is your most prized posseission.

~

Written by Nosferatu.

Taglist: @charlie-is-a-menace @copias-fluffy-asscheeks @randodummy @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @calliedion-dungeon @randominstake @callmeicaro @thecuriouss @nuntia @dio-niisio @mamacarlyle @firefirevampire @mybotanicaldemise @emo-mess @natoncesaid @sirlsplayland @thatoddboy @lightbluuestars @igodownjustlikeholymary @strawberriiblossoms @choco-meow69

#ghost band #ghost bc #ghost #ask #anon #ghost band x reader #ghost bc x reader #ghost x reader #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus 4 #cardinal copia #copia emeritus #papa copia #copia #papa emeritus iv x reader #copia x readr #papa emeritus 4 x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia emeritus x reader #papa copia x reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

You hit the nail on the head! I‘ll ask for more professional assessment: honest opinion on Crystal?

Following on from my ramblings about Sally Park. Oops! Edited to add in Zoe too.

Well written female characters in Lookism? Uhh...

When the bar is at an all time low, it's really not hard to step over it.

At this point, I've been pavloved to think that any female character that expresses a personality trait other than 'simp' is pretty good. Simp is fun when it's part of a list of characteristics (Zack, Ryuhei). Not so much when it's the only thing.

Long live PTJ, the greatest feminist. Anyway.

Female characters I like

Mary Kim

Love her. Empress of 2 seconds. Queen of my heart.

Surprisingly kept a platonic relationship with Vin Jin, showing quite a healthy mixed gender friendship. Sassy and smart. Loyal. Good taste in men (Jace). Is shown having a life and interests outside of a man.

On my hands and knees praying that PTJ doesn't ruin her. Kinda glad she hasn't appeared in a while so she is kept away from his incessant need to turn everyone into a love interest.

Lua Im

Once we got over the odd Johan panels, which I heard the Korean audience didn't like and I'm quite happy about, she's fine. And it's not that I care that much about Johan staying a single dog-dad, I just needed a coherent reasoning/build up why they would be interested in one another.

Lua has potential.

Sourcing intel, even impressing the likes of Gun? A little Muay Thai knowledge? Jake and Jerry scared of her? Lol. Ok. Good. Let's build on this.

Just please don't white knight her.

Crystal Choi (meh)

And Ms. Choi, because anon specifically asked. I really don't mind her? I know she's meant to be anti-Lookism but still judges people based on their looks eh. That's fine. Pretty realistic actually. Whatever.

She can be a bit bitchy for no reason. So can I. Handwaving all that.

What I do take issue with though, is her so called title of Business Genius. Please show me the chapter where she actually does something to earn that title besides the one where other people ooh-ed and aah-ed over her in the meeting with DG.

Wow she's sooooo gorgeous. Ok good for her. If that's the route they're taking her character then at least OWN. THAT. SHIT. Use her beauty and looks to sign deals and get what she wants. GOOD. DO IT.

Zoe Park (also meh... Wait)

Sorry anon, I think 'really well written' is a bit of a reach... She does have some decent character development, starting as quite a flighty, shallow girl and then showing that she has a heart of gold, liking both Daniels and. Huh.

Wait. You're right. She is pretty well written. She's selfless and kind and loyal to her friends, putting up with Logan's bullshit. There's enough of a character arc for her from the Zoe we're introduced to at first.

And I do like that she's good at maths too.

Wasted potential

Minseong Kang (Jake's momma)

Appreciate this is the older generation and from a much more conservative culture. Saying that, I am so over the slighted and bitter housewife rotting at home while her big powerful husband cheats on her.

And then some sort of marriage redemption cos they pop out a kid. Whatever. (Sorry Jake bb, I love you).

If you were going to do that, give me the most toxic red flag shit where they are constantly at each other's THROATS. Show me how they are equals. Can't live with or without one another. That's the good kinda shit.

Leonn Lee

I just. What the fuck was this.

A girl in Burn Knuckles? A group that reeks of testerone and (positive) masculinity? Show us why she joined! Show us why she stays. SURPRISE. Main character trait?? Having a crush on Vasco.

She could have been SO interesting. And she obviously trains, why not get her to fight?

Hate for irrational reasons

Joy Hong

Listen, she's not really in enough or significant enough for me to really feel one way or another about her. BUT. The reason I HATE her is because I was trying to write a headcanon involving everyone and then I got to Joy and I was STUMPED.

Sub in a plank of wood, and it would have the same depth of personality.

Truly. Who is she apart from Jay's sister and a Daniel simp? At least everyone else has something.

Others

I don't really think about them. Sera Shin has potential I guess.

And of course a special mention to Daniel's momma. She's not exactly a unique character, but who doesn't love her?

LET. THEM. FIGHT.

Lastly. Why can't we see women fight? Like the men's fights are realistic LOL. Ultra instinct? Smashing through walls? So why are women fighting men outside the realms of this.

And yes yes. Men are SoOoOoOo strong. But can they take a kick to the balls?

Are you saying Gun Park has been training his dick and balls and would be able to eat a hit there? He wouldn't go down like a heap of shit??

HUH. TELL ME THAT.

In Summary

Mary by and large is pretty well written. Lua has improved.

I don't care much about anyone else.

And I wanna see Gun, Goo, Sammy, Vin etc. get kicked in the balls in a fight.

#is this my most disjointed rambling yet? quite possibly #if you made it to the end you sincerely deserve a medal #sorry if i've completely forgotten about any female character development loooool my bad #and sorry every time I refer to the women as females it makes me feel incel-y #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lua im #mary kim #crystal choi #leonn lee #minseong kang #joy hong #wannaeatramyeon

[every1sno1fangirl]

Happy Hifuumo Friday everyone!

Even though these get posted on Saturday more often than not I'm still calling it that. It's aspirational and alliterative.

But mostly, because I really do start this on Friday. I just don't necessarily end it then.

As I've written this the weather has gone from thundering to hailing to calmness. So have my thoughts.

This week, I meant to go see my Grandma. I forgot all about it, though I did at least get my infusion done at least.

I realized I forgot a lot of things though.

More precisely, I kept pushing them off.

After getting my infusion, I wandered around a slice of the city I used to know like the back of my hand to get stuff for my cosplay. Some of it was the same...but other parts weren't, like most of the businesses.

And I didn't recognize them when I showed up either, because the businesses listed on Google Maps already shuttered and were replaced by newer ones.

And that's rattled me in a way I've been struggling to put into words. I have a very bad habit of just...stagnating.

For as long as I can, I'll 'take a break' and 'recover' from having to do things. It's a coping mechanism, and a horrible one at that. I need to learn how to take a /breather/, not a retirement.

Because even if you stand still you're still in motion.

You might not be able to see it, but if you stand perfectly still for but a single minute, you and the whole Earth around you will have moved 29,787 meters because of it's orbit around the sun.

(I won't even try to do the math for the rotation of the planet itself.)

The hours pass you by as you think. The weather changes thrice. It's five pm the next day and you forgot to take your meds.

You realize that the only times you actually left your house—"Because I'm still recovering from working so much"—was all those weeks ago.

When the whole reason you even make these posts is because you went on a /trip/, and the pictures are just proof of that.

I need to stop trying to stand still.

I'll begin by listening to my alarms and try to get out of my own head.

I love you all, have a good day/night!

#hifuumo friday #hifuu club #renko usami #maribel hearn #touhou #hifuu #fumoposting #fumo #touhou project

[wordsinhaled]

Alright y'all, I've been asked for some guidance and Middle English resources following up on my "Hob 'Middle English survives in me' Gadling" post, so... here goes! :D @slavicwitchling I hope this is a lil helpful! I feel like this... went way too in-depth for what was actually asked of me but feel free to say hi if you have more specific questions or anything else I can help with <333 (Or if anyone has q's about other random Medieval Lit Things that might be helpful for fandom please feel free to stop by!!! (Also lol, I make myself sound like an Expert or something but it's been a minute since I was in school doing this, though to be fair I'm diving headfirst back into this passion lately and may potentially be going back, so always happy to do some research if needed!)

What is Middle English? Middle English describes the period of the English language where it transitioned from Old English to Early Modern (aka Shakespeare's) English. During this period from the Norman Conquest in 1066 to the late 1400s, English also borrowed a lot of characteristics from French, and a lot of changes happened grammatically & structurally to make English sound, look, and feel a lot more familiar to our modern ears than Old English does. Here's a helpful article on this! There's some debate on when ME was spoken but more or less 1150 to 1500. What did Middle English sound like? What would Hob have probably sounded like? Here's my back-translation of Hob and Dream's 1389 conversation into Middle English! Here is also an example of a Middle English lyric found in the manuscript Harley 2253 (which dates to c. 1340) - "When the nyhtegale singes" ("When the nightingale sings"). Middle English was beautiful and Hob probably sounded kinda like this! Actually just go listen to all of Briddes Roune it's so pretty <3 And here's what the manuscript page looks like!

When the nyhtegale singes,  The wodes waxen grene, Lef ant gras ant blosme springes In Averyl, Y wene ; Ant love is to myn herte gon With one spere so kene, Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes Myn herte deth me tene. Ich have loved al this yer  That Y may love na more; Ich have siked moni syk, Lemmon, for thin ore, Me nis love neuer the ner, Ant that me reweth sore; Suete lemmon, thench on me, Ich have loved the yore. When the nightingale sings, The trees grow green, Leaf and grass and blossom springs, In April, I suppose; And love has to my heart gone With a spear so keen, Night and day my blood it drains My heart to death it aches. I have loved all this past year So that I may love no more; I have sighed many a sigh, Beloved, for thy pity, My love is never thee nearer, And that me grieveth sore; Sweet loved-one, think on me, I have loved thee long.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight read in ME

The Canterbury Tales General Prologue read in ME (this is 45 minutes long, but you can just listen to part of it, haha)

helpful resources & websites

Luminarium — an anthology of medieval literature 1350-1485; I especially love the section for Middle English lyrics & poems!

the Middle English Dictionary via University of Michigan Library; an AWESOME searchable database of Middle English words and examples of their usage in context within texts. You can use the "Modern English word equivalent" search function to back-translate things!

Middle English manuscripts online at the British library!

List of Middle English terms of endearment — helpful for Dreamling fics ;)

How to call someone beautiful in Middle English <;3

(Some) notable literary works in Middle English in case that interests anyone!

Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, written between 1387 and 1400 — links to Harvard's Chaucer website w/ the text & in-line translations + helpful guides on how to read Chaucer, etc.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight by anonymous, c. 1400 (the Gawain poet) — links to the Weston translation but I really like the one by Simon Armitage, which is great for learning ME because it's a facing page translation! I've seen a lot of people recommend against starting with SGGK as your first ME work because it's super weird and super steeped in Arthuriana, but like, I'm not gonna tell people what to read! If it interests you, you should read it :D Granted, I'm SUPER BIASED in favor of SGGK (it's my favorite work, no contest) but it could be good to be familiar with some Arthuriana first before reading

On that note, Sir Thomas Malory's Le Mort Darthur c. 1485 (links to a version online up on Project Gutenberg) is a translation & compilation by Malory of French & English Arthurian stories (the Old French Vulgate romances, the Alliterative Morte Arthure and the Stanzaic Morte Arthur). Fun fact, Le Mort Darthur was first printed by Caxton in an abridged version in 1485, right as Hob was getting in on printing! Afterwards they found the Winchester manuscript, which dates to prior to 1485 and is considered to be the more accurate version compared to Caxton's The Norton Critical Edition is a great unabridged Middle English full text version that reproduces some of the visual characteristics of the Winchester manuscript (illuminated capitals and fancy font for all the names, etc.) and has a lot of literary criticism, analysis, and a glossary in the back included. BUT I think this version could be a difficult read to get through if reading alone. Here is the Oxford World's Classics version (ed. Helen Cooper) which is easier/more approachable!

William Langland's The Vision of Piers Plowman c. 1370–86 (aka just Piers Plowman) - honestly, it really is not my favorite at all, but there is an entire International Piers Plowman Society. It's like the Ulysses of ME literature I guess??? So i... won't rag on it too much, haha; maybe I just need to revisit it and I will find something new in it to like. It's a series of dream visions in which the dreamer/narrator seeks a true Christian life. Here is the Middle English text (University of Michigan Library). Here's the Oxford World's Cassics translation

The Gawain poet is thought to also have written Pearl, Cleanness, and Patience, which are 3 works that survive in the manuscript Cotton MS Nero A X, the same manuscript as SGGK (the "Pearl manuscript", c. 1400) (more info on the manuscript)

#yes i will put this in the #the sandman #tag sorry... but not... #dreamling #middle english #Spotify #Youtube

[9leaguesofmirrors]

My Favourite Reece Shearsmith Characters

So it's Reece Shearsmith's birthday today, so I decided to celebrate this by sharing some of my favourite characters played by this fantastically talented actor

These are in no particular order

Gregory Brewster - Him Indoors

Him Indoors is a short film about a serial killer with agoraphobia. Not only is the premise very interesting, Reece delivers a chilling yet very entertaining performance as the main character. It's on YouTube if you want to watch it, which I highly reccomend you do!

Tommy - Bernie Clifton's Dressing Room

This HAD to be on the list! Reece's performance as Tommy is heartbreaking, we watch a man seems to put-together and serious slowly fall apart and lose control of his calm façade - impeccable work

Sean Stone - Chasing Shadows

Admittedly, I don't know where the watch the full show, but I have seen clips and I knew I had to put it on this list because of Reece's portrayal of an autistic person. You can tell he put a lot of thought and research into it in order to give a realistic performance, which is a testament to his dedication and how much he truly cares about the roles he plays and who he's representing

Tyler - Riddle Of The Sphinx SPOILERS BELOW

If there's one thing Reece is good at, it's how to play a chilling villain. Everything about Tyler is unnerving and he manages to be terrifying without being loud or angry all the time. It's measured and the emotion builds and builds - fantastic work!

Joseph Lisgoe - The League Of Gentlemen

I've mentioned before that the debt collectors were underused, and I simply had to talk about how extraordinary Reece's performance as Lisgoe was. He completely dives into the roles he plays and this one was no exception, not even a light smashing on his closest friend stops him from carrying on a scene (just check out the outtakes!), he simply embodies the part and delivers a performance that terrifies the cast, crew and the audience

Laurence - Merrily Merrily SPOILERS BELOW

Merrily Merrily is an Inside No. 9 episode that I can never rewatched because of how empty it made me feel - and I mean that in the best way possible! Laurence is wracked with pain over the loss of his late partner, and Reece delivers such a subtle yet haunting performance that I don't think I'll ever stop thinking about it

Ross Gaines - The League of Gentlemen

Ross is such a fun character because of how manipulative, calculating and cold he is. Not only does it set him apart from the other inhabitants of Royston Vasey, it makes his scenes with Pauline all the more tense and entertaining - and Reece really does deliver in the role. I'm glad they decided to go with this casting choice

Aiden - Thinking Out Loud

Like with Laurence, Reece delivers a hauntingly stellar performance. What makes this one really special is that it's a monologue. There's nobody for him to bounce off of or react to, he has to reach those emotions himself. And, as always, he nails it

Ollie Plimsolls - The League Of Gentlemen

I've said before that I think Ollie is one of the most cleverly written League characters and I stand by that. As a representation of the Saviour Complex and self-righteousness of people in theatre, Ollie is a character that should be easy to hate... but because of Reece's expert comedic timing and delivery, he ends up being so funny that you can't help but laugh every time he's onscreen

SPECIAL MENTION: Gilbert - Betty Blue Eyes

Reece Shearsmith said in an interview that he wasn't a great singer. Reece Shearsmith is a liar. Don't believe me? Listen to The Kind Of Man I Am from Betty Blue Eyes and thank me later

Also, if you can find it, there's a short bootleg of him in The Producers which is good too!

Of course, this are just a few of his performances and he's never delivered a bad one - whether he's playing a comedic character like Archie in The Bill or a more serious one like in Borley Rectory. And we haven't even touched on his writing skills, I can't wait to see what he does next!

#inside no 9 #in9 #inside number 9 #reece shearsmith #steve pemberton #the league of gentlemen #league of gentlemen #chasing shadows #him indoors #BBC #bernie clifton's dressing room #merrily merrily #thinking out loud #gregory brewster #betty blue eyes #ross gaines #joseph lisgoe #ollie plimsolls #ds sean stone #sean stone

[misc-obeyme]

#27 with Satan! Please & thank you 😊

Hi there, anon!

Ahh thank you for requesting Satan! I'm quite fond of this guy, so I enjoyed writing this!

Thank you for participating!

GN!MC x Satan with prompt Dream

Warnings: none!

You were sitting on the bed in Satan's room, listening to him tell you about one of the books he recently obtained. He was standing in front of you and the book in question was sitting on the bedside table. It was thick with a dark blue cover that was full of silver designs, the title written in a language you couldn't read. The pages were silver edged and a dark blue ribbon peeked out from its place in the middle of the book.

"It's meant to help with sleep," Satan was saying. "Especially for those who may suffer from nightmares. If you hold it, it will give you good dreams. It has the ability to determine what kind of dreams would be best for whoever uses it."

"Do you want to try it?" you asked.

Satan considered the book for a moment. "I think the chances of this magic being hazardous are fairly low, so yes. I think I would like to try it. What about you?"

"Let's do it together," you said, picking up the book. The cover was soft to your touch, though the book itself was heavy. You held it out toward Satan. He took hold of the other end, lifting some of the book's weight from your own arms.

You both stayed still for a long moment, but nothing seemed to happen.

"Did it work?" you asked.

"I'm not sure," Satan admitted. "We'll have to see what happens when we go to sleep tonight."

That night, you settled into your bed, thinking about the book's promise of good dreams. You really hoped it worked because wouldn't it be nice to always have good dreams?

You were tired as usual, so it wasn't long before you drifted into slumber.

You found yourself outside the House of Lamentation, in the garden. Satan was standing only a few feet away, his back to you.

You took a few steps toward him. "Satan?"

Satan turned around, his eyes widening when he saw you. "MC? Am I dreaming about you?"

"Wait, huh?" you said. "I thought I was the one dreaming about you."

Satan came closer to you, stopping just before you, a look of confused concentration on his face. "We're sharing the dream? Maybe it's because we both held the book at the same time?"

You were a little curious, too, but it wasn't like you could really do anything about it here in the dream world. You could worry about it tomorrow.

"Does it matter?" you asked, closing the space between you and him. "You're here and I'm here. That feels like a pretty good dream to me."

Satan met your eyes then. He lifted a hand to caress your cheek. "Indeed. I would classify this as the best dream I've ever had."

You leaned in to kiss him. Even in the dream, you felt the swell in your heart, the soft press of his lips, the flutter in your stomach as he reached out to hold you close.

When you woke the next day, you felt happy and refreshed. You found Satan later on in his room, looking through the pages of the dream book as he sat on his bed. He looked up when he saw you.

"I've been reading more to find out why we shared that dream," Satan said, a soft blush on his cheeks at the memory of it. "I still haven't found anything about shared dreams, but it does state that the book fills your good dreams with things that you love."

You crossed the room to sit next to him, letting your shoulder lean into his as you looked at the pages of the book open on his lap. "Well, in that case, I think you can safely say that this book works as intended."

Satan looked at you, a soft smile emerging on his face. He closed the book and set it aside, turning in closer to you and putting an arm around your shoulders. "I'm inclined to agree," he said before kissing you. And although this time you were awake, it still felt like a dream.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fanfiction #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me satan x mc #satan x reader #satan x mc #misc 500 followers event #misc writes

[wannab-urs]

Gin's 2023 sappy post

It's hard for me to believe that at the beginning of this year, I didn't know a single one of my best friends in the world existed. But it's true!

How we got here

I'm not quite sure exactly when I started looking up Pedro Pascal on Tumblr, but it was sometime after February. I'd watched Game of Thrones and Oberyn was my favorite character, but I was in one of my periods of not being on Tumblr (I've had this account for about 10 years, but it's seen many fandoms and I haven't always been active).

I watched the first few episodes of The Last of Us that had come out - I was 3 episodes behind I think - and immediately looked up Joel Miller on Tumblr. How could I not? Anyway, give me ten minutes on this hellsite and a middle aged man with a huge imdb and watch me develop a hyperfixation.

So then I looked up interviews. I watched basically every interview this man ever did, but I remember that the Lie Detector interview and his appearance on the Talk Easy podcast are really what did me in. I went from admiring this man as an actor and thinking he's pretty to basically being in love with him.

Anyways....

I didn't mean to start reading fanfic? I come from the world of Destiel on AO3. I never wrote it, I just read copious amounts of it. I'd never read reader insert, much less straight reader insert, and I'd never written a word of anything even resembling a fanfiction.

But I found @prolix-yuy, @frannyzooey, @joelscruff, @fuckyeahdindjarin, and @ezrasbirdie (check the spreadsheet, y'all are at the very top!) and I was hooked.

Then I read Psychomanteum by @whatsnewalycat and Celestial Navigation by @write-and-buried and was inspired to parade my trauma around in a Dieter shaped trench coat: AGOY was born.

@beskarandblasters is the first person I really talked to on here. In fact, Kel is the one who introduced me to most of my friends on here. And we've been harassing each other on the daily since. I hope to 🦵 her in real life someday soon ❤️. I love you, bitch. You mean the world to me.

I could never ever ever list all of my dear friends I've made on here. Seriously, there are so many of you that mean the world to me. But I'm gonna list a few.

My cannibal crew @pr0ximamidnight and @atinylittlepain, without whom Love as Violence Dave (starving season), Head up his Ass Javi (in the a.m.), and the later editions of loser druggie Dieter (AGOY) would not exist - or at least they wouldn't be as good as they are.

My darling soup snake, the loml, my spider twin, my forever partner in making bitches cry (it's us, we're bitches, making each other cry in an endless loop) @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin. #1 AGOY stan forever, you may love my own magnum opus more than I love it. Thanks for listening to me scream about every pedro boy on the planet and thanks for screaming right back at me. I love you.

The random college student I found by accident, decided to take under my wing, and then was subsequently taken under their wing bc it turns out they have more fandom experience and life advice than I can ever hope to have @idolatrybarbie. Bea, my darling, thanks for always letting me bitch, for showing me fics I never thought I'd be into (The Santa Claus AU Frankie Morales Free Use Kink, anyone) but that I often was into, for encouraging my writing, and for being fucking real with me.

The pedrostories crew, but especially @pedrorascal - I love screaming about Pedro with you at... 2:30 in the morning my time (we love time zones!). Thanks for letting me be a terrible mod for your fic archive blog and never getting mad at me for not doing my job. And for being a wonderful, kind, amazing person all the fucking time.

I'm being so serious when I say I could list at least 20 more people. People who brightened my day with a reblog or a message. Or who wrote a fic I still think about at least once a week. Or who made a gifset that is permanently etched into my brain. People I talked to in discords and most likely trauma dumped on and they listened and they cared and they let me hold their trauma in return. I love you guys so fucking much.

Conclusion

I never could have imagined I'd be a writer and run a fic rec blog at 24. Especially not for Pedro Pascal Characters. But here we are -- and I can honestly say it has been the highlight of my year. And I bought a house this year.

I have so many new friends and a new hobby (I never wrote at all before this) just because I wanted to Fuck That Old Man. Incredible.

#gin is being sappy #i love y'all