#please please whatever else you may think reading these posts please know that has never been my intention | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonit3 · 2 months

Note

Seeing request are open, may I suggest you yan! Actor/celebrity with darling who's life centred ab them but then realised what they're doing and decided to loosen their ties and have their own life and stuff going on?

Some elobration:

Yan's personality:

-elegant like, probably give off rich people vibe

-really strict in everything; work, clothing, diet. Not a moment where they're lacking.

-brings darling on every shooting and set.

-knows how to contain image and how to avoid/get rid of rumours

-their popularity is important, but so. Is darling.

Some backstory ig? :

-Yan! Actor/Celebrity have known darling since they're kids and darling had always been their biggest supporter.

-Yan! Actor/Celebrity was Darling's fav child actor and the fact that both of their parents know each other makes them close.

-Yan! Actor/Celebrity let darling comes to the set or shoot and makes sure they didn't have eyes on anyone else but them.

-Darling would drop anything for them, . As an example; Darling's classmate have a birthday party but they couldn't come because Yan! have a shooting. (it's mostly like, not because Yan wanted them to. Darling is just worried about the Yan! and Yan! never complained)

-Darling's behaviour goes on until they're almost finished high-school and they realised how they don't even have friends and have been following Yan! for as long as they remember and decided to change when they entered college.

-Darling started to come to the Yan! set and shoots less. Started to indulge in other hobbies and fine new friends. Since they entered college, they've been contacting Yan! less and less.

-Yan! who didn't mind it at first, thinking that it will just be for a week or two, they'll come back to them later. But it didn't happened.

-What worse is they have a recording for a film where they are the main character, but darling didn't even come even after it finished.

-But Yan is still fine, still cool. Maybe, darling is at their house waiting for them to come and celebrate like always.

-and unsurprisingly there's a surprise party, but darling isn't even there. They ask everyone and yet they don't know where daring is.

-they tried to contact them but no one answered the calls,or even reply their messages.

-and then one for the guest called them and show them with their phone that darling is at another party with their friends

-at that moment something inside yan! snaps.

Please feel free to follow my suggestions and change or add whatever you want too! Hope you have a good day!

an yandere actor? hell yeah, this is pure gold for me and let me tell you, i love writing yandere like this. always wearing that facade of good person that charms everyone, only to be the worst person to ever exist. also, i changed a few things to make things more interesting and easy to write, okay?

‗ ❍ CONTROL

➽ context warnings: yandere male, gn! reader, manipulation, isolation, implied past abuse (not towards reader), implied depression from yandere part, yandere touching the reader while they are asleep, implied future kidnapping at the end.

➽ word count: 2k

➽ synopsis: he never noticed that your presence was so important to him before you left him.

➽ yandere! actor x gn! reader

➽ a/n: a post for today Thursday.╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ and I can’t wait to you guys read it. today, I don’t have much thing to say as my week was pretty normal compared to the previous ones. enjoy this one, my dear readers!

➽ the newspaper can’t stop talking about the child actor that has stolen everyone’s heart, becoming the youngest winner in the award ceremony and turning into a famous star from day to night. his name going to the people’s mouth everyday and every night, gaining fans all over the globe with that gentle smile of his. everyone knows him, everyone adores him and everybody wants to be Irving Orson.

➽ his famous smile enchanted anyone who comes around and you were no exception, being his most trusted confident. you are his sidekick since the very first time he knows you, his best friend and his best supporter. the man knows that he has control over your life and he abused it.

➽ initially meeting you during a fancy gala as a little boy, irving as forced by his mothers to become acquainted with theirs coworker’ child who couldn’t stop giggling about him. a missing teeth in the front roll, hair messed like a hurricane has gone through the hall and wearing the most ridiculous shoes with lights, that was you. and since that day, irving and you become inseparable even though that was against his wishes.

➽ however, it didn’t took much time to the man tolerate your presence. often using as an improvised coat rack when needed, making you come along with him to the work set and always being the main center of your attention. almost like if you have become his personal assistant by the time the two of you become teenagers, adorable to say the least and quite a scene to other admire how the two of you are so close. specially in an dangerous environment like this one.

➽ with his popularity only growing and irving becoming of age, a new side of the industry was introduced to him. people of high power that he once thought to be the best turned out to be cruel creatures ready to attack at any moment, those who he believed to be gentle and kind reveal themselves as monster to him. it made him feel disgusted, it made him feel dirty by hearing words that wasn’t supposed to be louder than a whisper and he distanced himself from it.

➽ once known for his bubbly and funny demeanor during his time as a young boy, irving turned into a mature man who prefers to keep to himself. his stare is a keen as a sword, ready to cut anyone who comes closer to him with ill intentions and always wearing his gentleman persona when public. everyone fall for it, everyone become addictive to the most popular actor in the world and he couldn’t help himself, but thinking that no one really knows him.

➽ well almost everyone. there is you, a shadow that grown attached to him since that gala and it seems that you can’t leave nor have the intention to do so. it’s refreshing to have a familiar face at work that helps him (not that he would ever admit it), someone that he can be himself and not be judged. people would find themselves in denial if seeing him the so called gentleman acting like a fool when refusing to eat the vegetables from his meal.

➽ and he can’t help admire that you still with him, always so bright and sweet to him regardless of his coldness and tiredness after exhausted hours of work. irving loves that you take care of him, giving him the best hugs when congratulating him after another successful movie or just the free days the two of you spend in completely laziness at his mansion. those type of days are his favorite, because he finally got to be himself with only you around.

➽ a smile is on his face when you talk about your favorite part of today’s filming, redness growing at your cheeks when explaining how his character is probably going to give him another win at the awards session and that you can’t wait to tell your parents about it. the lines of his lips dropped, he forget that you working as an unofficial assistant for him means that you don’t interact much with your family nor other friends. he understands that he is time consuming and that you don’t really talk with your family because of him, yet he doesn’t feel guilty of it.

➽ irving knows that he is the only worth of your time, so he sees no problem in monopolizing it. giving your harsh tasks that will take hours to be done such doing his laundry, preparing him homemade meals with and even making you attend his most recent movie release as his partner. the last one if more appealing, seeing you wearing the expensive (and sometimes short) outfit that coincidentally match yours. “it was totally random, don’t think so much of it, [name].” he speaks, but mentally thanking his personal stylist for it.

➽ after the movie ended, irving opted to go home to rest and made you stay at his place as a small reward for being a good friend, a tiny smile appears when he said that. and you couldn’t refuse it, tiredness took over your body when stepping inside and he took the opportunity to place you at his bed, and he didn’t lose the chance to lay next to you.

➽ your chest going up and down and mouth makes him feel things, it’s weird that even recording so many intimate scenes with other actors, irving feels embarrassed by having you so closer to him. it’s almost like he is a child again, scared to speak out when his mothers called him out or to have kids another child actor back then. he removed a lock of hair away from your face, taking a better look at the soft expression and admiring how peaceful you look, if anyone else was here, they won’t hesitate to hurt you. but not him, irving is your protector and he will be there for you forever regardless of your opinion.

➽ or he thought so. the man failed to see the signs about your sadness growing, too busy deluding himself that everything was fine between the two of you to realize that you aren’t happy like this. the dark circles growing under your eyes went unnoticed by hiding it behind makeup and a fake smile to pretend that you were fine to his eyes, one that you wished that irving would see and give you a day off from work. however, that never happened and he only made you work more than before, making you not only exhausted, but also feeling that you don’t have any value to him.

➽ one day, you just left him without saying goodbye and peace has come to your life again. no need to wake up before the sun rising, no more dark circles and finally some time to see mother and father without worrying about work. it’s feel nice to finally be happy again, to have time for yourself to just relax and do nothing. this is so much better than overworking for irving and not be valued by him.

➽ and speaking of him, irving is panicking when he couldn’t find you anywhere. all of your stuff gone from the bedroom you used at his mansion and no one of his employees knows where you are, almost like you vanished in thin air. calls, messages and emails from him are ignored, leaving without options to contact you other than visiting your parents’ home and even that leave him without much. none of them know where you are despite the frequent visits and they didn’t bother asking, believing that you only took a few days off from working.

➽ his mind began playing tricks on him, making irving had your voice in very corner of the mansion and try to chase you down, only to be met with nothing. the actors and crew that he have been working with can tell there is something off about him, advising him to take a few weeks off from working to focus on his mental health. and of course, he accepts it, knowing that he can’t do much other than rest and try to keep himself calm after searching you for hours.

➽ i will find you, [name]. you can’t leave his mind despite trying to much to forget you and his mind doesn’t playing him like the fool he is. irving began dreaming about you every night, sometimes it’s silly as a picnic date that went wrong, others is about you cuddling him and he also dream about you having children with him. it sound like a perfect scenario, marrying you and then create a family to call his, irving desires that and he will make it become real.

➽ hiring someone to do the shady work wasn’t difficult, he just need the help of his friends to find someone willing to find your whereabouts without giving him away. he knew that you won’t forgive him, but does that really matter? as long he has you by his side, hating him won’t change his feelings nor plans for the future.

➽ it took only two days to irving learn your new address, a house in the edge of the city where the nature takes over the old buildings, remembering him of those apocalyptic movies he acted in. why would you give up of the richness and luxuries to live in a place like this? the only reason he can thinks of it is the rent being cheaper since you’ve stopped working for a quite while. yet, the walls with fresh colors and the smell of sweet inside your new home makes him wonder if you truly left him

➽ in his hands reached the doorknob before he could think and for his lucky, it was open. slowly and carefully, irving made his way towards the door that appears to be your bedroom, the guilty and shame of entering your house like this is eating him, but he can’t give up now. specially when he is so close to get you back.

➽ your sleeping body don’t move when he make his way inside, only continue to mutter in your sleep. irving took a deep breath when coming close to your bed, laying down close to your sleeping form and letting one of his hand closer to your thighs, caressing it without remorse.

➽ “my love, my muse…” his cheeks warmed with a red tinge as you move around the bed, maybe you are reacting to his touch or are you having a dream? irving got even closer to you, wrapping one of his arms around your body, putting you into his embrace as he kisses your neck. “no one will take you away from me, you are mine only.”

➽ irving spend more than time touching your body than he wants to admit, his piercing eyes roam over your body more than he wished and his heart beat faster when thinking of the possibility of you waking up to catch him at the act. he knows you wouldn’t react in a positive way, not when he broken into your house and is caressing your body without you permission.

➽ a part of himself tells him to stop, his mind telling how wrong he is for invading your privacy and overstepping your boundaries like this. and another part of himself, his heart, tells him that he deserves it after years of hard working at the entertainment industry. you are his reward after so many days and nights of wearing that mask to the public, none one aside from you knows his true colors and irving wants to keep it that way.

➽ irving notices that you began moving, probably going to wake soon as the sun shines outside and he couldn’t afford to lose his chance to make you his. his hands went straight to your neck, immediately pressing force into your throat and suddenly waking you up. his lips curves into a smile as he watches your ineffective attempt to remove his hands away, slowly you give up and fall into unconscious again.

➽ with you finally in his arms, ready to be taken away from the harsh reality, irving will show you a better and improved version of his mansion. there, no one will ever come closer to hurt you nor spread lies and manipulate you into leave him again, there no will ever come to take you away from him ever again.

@moonit3 writings

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere writing #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x gender neutral y/n #original character x reader #yandere hcs #my oc irving #➥·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ moon writings

296 notes · View notes

emmettworld · 2 months

Text

hello, my beloved whump community. this is Emmett. but you probably know me better as this blog:

or you may remember the blog before that:

you may have even been here since this blog:

...i'm not taking you farther than that. xD

my account was terminated without any warning today. March 25, 2024. all of my blogs are gone and i have lost everything i have on them. you won't even be able to see any comments or reblogs for me on any of your posts.

if you have commissioned me over Tumblr DMs and not Discord, please contact me here. i did not have a copy of my commission list saved. i do not know who hasn't paid and who already has. i do not remember who was on the list. i do not want anyone to be cheated out of their money.

i have no idea why this happened. i was not doing anything that could justify my account being terminated with no warning or explanation. i'm so paranoid about it that i won't even type the blog names; that's why they're images instead.

but at this point, most of you know the type of whump creator i am. one who creates whatever he wants, no matter how disturbing or explicit it may be. one who loves creating whump and content in general of the Not Safe For This Website kind.

getting one of my blogs flagged, and now losing everything, is not going to stop me. i'm not going anywhere. but i am going to be changing my approach to posting content.

this is my Language Key. i will be using a system of emojis for tagging instead of words, so please read this before you go on my blog and know which tags you need to block.

if you need to block my blog for any reason, go ahead. i don't want to disturb anyone by showing up in the tags.

all of my artwork that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked to an external storage website, MEGA. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no cropped previews unless they are 100% Safe For This Website.

all of my writing that is Not Safe For This Website will be linked directly to where i post it on my AO3. it is completely free to view and you do not need an account. there will be no writing put under a read more unless it is 100% Safe For This Website.

trust me, i'll have a better pinned post up at some point explaining who i am and my multiverse of AUs, series, and OCs, and links to my commission page, and my Ko-Fi...and i'll do my best to finish the masterlists and, once again, build myself up from the ground up...

but i'm exhausted. i never saw this coming, and it's made me realize just how unsafe i am. i lost so much content that was only posted on Tumblr and not saved anywhere else.

believe me when i say that i am fucking devastated.

but i'm not going anywhere. i will die with this site when it eventually goes down, and not because it tried to kill me.

that being said, you can find me here on Cohost, which is where i'll migrate to when this place dies or where i'll communicate if i happen to get IP address banned (probably without warning) or something that prevents me from coming back.

if you don't want to refollow me here, i totally understand. i can't say how grateful i am to everyone who does, but like...i get it. it's tedious having to refollow me all the time, never knowing when a blog (or full ass account) is going to suddenly disappear. if you want to get off this crazy, unpredictable ride now, i don't blame you.

and if you decide to stick around, for however long, thank you. this day has been one of my worst nightmares and i don't think i would be handling this with nearly as much grace if it were not for my friends and everyone on my Discord server (which, by the way, is the only safe place where i share everything uncensored).

they were my first line of communication. they helped me get the word out. they rallied for me and kept me from having one massive breakdown over this, so my heartfelt thanks go out to them.

i'm using the whump community tags in hopes that more people will see this. i had hundreds of followers on my last blog, more than a thousand on the blog before that...i know this isn't going to reach everyone, but i hope it will reach some people.

thank you so much for reblogging this to help spread the word if you do. and thank you for reading. ❤️

#whump #whumplr #whump community #whump art #whump writing #whump creators #whump blogs #emmettworld

215 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 15 days

Note

WIBTA if I send in screen shots to someone that made a callout post about a former friend?

Please read this entire thing before your decision. I understand the "blurb" may make me seem like a backstabber and someone you wouldn't trust, but I have my reasons I'll detail why this person is a former friend.

I'm a former friend of someone we'll call Marie. Marie, idk how to explain it, but she kind of didn't care about anyone but herself. Anytime someone would talk about something she'd make it about herself and it was very annoying. Marie also would make a lot of us uncomfortable at times. She said some racial slurs to us various times and claimed it wasn't racist. One was towards me and I asked her not to, basically I told her she can't call me a slur because she's white and made me feel uncomfortable. The other was some Irish thing I had to google because our friend who is Irish was uncomfortable and I'm still horrified with what I saw.

Marie would reblog my vent posts on tumblr a lot. None was ever to console me. One was where she reblogged and said "this would be a good ice breaker for a date." I did go off on her since at the time I had such a nasty break up and my vent had absolutely nothing to do with that. Now here's the issue, besides reblogging my vent posts, someone archived her reblog of my vent posts on the wayback. Multiple ones. I contacted wayback, but they said they only delete archives if the blog owner makes a statement on their blog. For reference, i have had multiple chronic stalkers and Marie was very well aware of it. So I already had wayback not allow archives of my blog because one stalker was using it to archive everything on me online. So a stalker found a loophole in the form of Marie. Now, this was before Tumblr had allowed us to disable reblogs. So no jumping to the comments saying it's my fault when this was years ago before that function was available. So, Marie refused and told me its whatever and if anything they were probably archiving her edits despite all of the archives on her blog had my vents she reblogged, like every single time she reblogged it got archived.

Now lastly, Marie was one of those people who would never celebrate anyone's victories. It was so weird, someone could say "oh, I got a new camera for my photography" and she'd say something like "in 3rd grade someone shat on my camera, so I never got a new camera". It would make stuff so awkward and make us not want to talk in our discord. I got a scholarship one year she decided to go to school (she was 12 years out of highschool) and she lost her financial aid in one semester because she didn't do any of her school work! Yet somehow "the government picks favorites and doesn't want to pay people that deserve it". Her words, I was very offended since she knew I worked full time, was a POC, and was not eligible for financial aid. Let me have the scholarship win without making it about you!

So one day I just blocked her everywhere after I deleted the friend discord we had. It wasn't right after, I waited over a year and became more and more distant. She did contact me again, but surprise surprise, she wanted me to help build her a website for her "oni-sona". I declined and we haven't spoken since.

Now the callout part. She has a callout under her new alias and it has her previous too. In this callout it's talking a lot about how she treats people like shit and uses them for her own gain. It details as well to not support her or any of her projects because she steals (idk about that, I've personally never witnessed it, but I'm believing OP because everything else is true.)

Now, would I be the AH if I submit stuff to add to the callout? I was just going to send in how she reblogged my vents and someone archived them on wayback and she refused to contact way back to delete them despite knowing I had stalkers. Maybe I'll submit more stuff, but not caring I had stalkers is my biggest gripe and something I think should be added since she allowed my stalkers to do that.

#aita #am i the asshole

115 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 18 days

Text

The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Fem!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you.

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you.

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe.

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go.

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.”

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest.

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.”

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck.

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.”

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it.

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again.

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence.

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair.

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

#don john #much ado about nothing #don john x reader #don john keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

98 notes · View notes

springseasonie · 1 year

Note

i love ur writing so much like actually. can you please write virgin haechan x reader or jaehyun x virgin reader 😩 thank you!!

Study date (M)

Warnings: sexual content, college au, oral (male receiving), protected sex, subby/soft haechan, proofread but may contain errors (sorryyy)

Word count: 3,5k

A/N: you gave me too much freedom with the choices, but I just had to write about haechan for this one he's been on my mind a lot lately. Apologies for how long it took to post this

Haechan had never been so nervous in his life. It was first time alone with you in his room, and he really didn't know how to act. His palms were clammy, heart beating out his chest, and he hasn't been able to say one word to you without stuttering horribly. He's been trying hard to keep his cool, but everything was weighing on him more and more.

You didn't seem like you wanted anything else from him as far as he could tell. The both of you agreed to do homework together for the night and just hang out like normal, but you've been a little weird to him for a week. Haechan noticed your lingering gaze and touches. The little comments you made complimenting him or how you laughed a little too much at his stupid jokes. You were constantly touching him too, looping your arm with his, fixing his hair, even giving him hugs a lot more often.

And now that the 2 of you are alone, you finally seemed to calm down your unnecessary affection for the man, or so he thought.

You hadn't said much to him in the past hour, just small questions or whatever came to your mind as you mindlessly typed up an essay on your laptop. Haechan jumped a little startled when you spoke to him.

"Haechan?"

"Yeah, what's up," he answered a little too quickly in an attempt to seem normal.

"Do you think you can help me out with this?"

He nodded and gulped. He stood up walking to his bed nervously. You were laying on your stomach, feet kicking in the air as you looked up at him. Sometimes he felt like a bad friend for looking at you the way he did, thinking about you in the ways he did. But he really couldn't help it, especially not when you looked at him with your big pretty eyes in the most innocent way. Not when you wore that short skirt he can't keep his eyes off of. But what exactly is he supposed to do? It's not like he can just seduce you, especially since he's so inexperienced.

Heachan sat next to you, heart skipping a beat when you turned yourself onto your back. A sliver of skin from your stomach showed as your shirt rose up a bit. Haechan felt like such a weirdo with how much the tiny bit of skin was affecting him. Haechan has seen you with less clothes plenty of times at beaches and pools, but something about this felt so…new.

"What did you need help with," he asked, looking at you and the computer.

"Read it. I don't know if it's good," you asked, pointing to the paragraph you just wrote.

"Uh, okay. Sure." Haechan scanned over the words on the screen, not without sneaking a few glances at you of course. You were staring at him with the most content look, he couldn't tell what you were thinking at all. "Um, it seems good to me. I don't see anything wrong."

"I know," you giggled, "I just wanted a reason to talk to you. You’ve so cooped up in whatever you were doing over there, it was kind of boring over here all by myself."

Haechan didn't know how to respond, just gave you a small smile with a nod. He didn't notice the way you were looking at him as if you were going to eat the man right then and there - and that's what you fully intended to do.

"So what were you working on," you asked him, sitting up to rest on your elbows. Haechan looked down at you, then away almost immediately avoiding the intense eye contact you were giving him.

"Just something for my math class," he said.

"Oh yeah, your major is computer science right? Seems kinda hard."

"It's actually really simple…when you know what you're doing of course," he laughed softly. Haechan kept going on about his major, which is something he tended to do unintentionally. He didn't have many friends, besides you and a couple of other people on campus, because of this constant habit of nerding out when you bought up any one of his interests. But unlike most people, you never found it annoying. You always thought it was cute when he went into detail about it, whether it be video games or his major or even something you thought was stupid.

"You really do love computer science don't you," you chuckled, interrupting him mid sentence.

"Sorry, am I being annoying? I'll stop."

"Don't stop, I like hearing you talk."

Haechan couldn't help but clock the change in your tone. He glanced at you, gulping a bit when your eyes met. He really didn't know what to do or say at the moment, afraid that anything he did would make the atmosphere awkward. "Thank you," was all he could manage to say.

You sat up, now fully sitting on his bed. You scooted back a bit, face becoming closer to his to look at him in his eyes. Haechan was so obvious it almost made you laugh. You knew he had a thing for you no matter how much he tried to keep it to a minimum.

"Can we be honest for a second," you asked, closing your computer.

"Honest…about what?"

"I think you know, Haechan."

Haechan let out a deep breath looking down at his hands and then at your legs. You goddamn legs. They were always a weakness for him, it was kind of embarrassing. He felt like a Victorian man looking at an ankle every time he saw them.

"I like you, Haechan."

Your voice brought him back to the situation at hand, making him shoot his gaze to your face that was a little too close to his. He felt a lump in his throat, staying silent instead of talking. He knew he fucked up by not saying anything, but it's so hard when it's you.

"Do you like me too," you asked in a quiet voice, eyes never leaving his face.

After a moment, Haechan finally spoke, almost choking out the words. "I-I do like you." You smiled, resting your body weight in one arm. Your hand brushed his, almost making him shiver at the contact.

You wanted to take things slowly so badly, but you couldn't. Not with him looking so good and looking like he wanted to eat you the whole time. "Can I kiss you Haechan?"

Haechan wished he could've played it cool but he was a pretty expressive person when he didn't want to be. He let out a bit of nervous laughter, making you tilt your head in anticipation for his answer. "I..I don't even know what to say."

"Well it's a yes or no question," you said, making him smile a bit. "You have kissed someone right? Or is this gonna be your first kiss?"

"I have kissed someone before, don't worry."

"Good, because I've been thinking about this all day." Your face was already so close to his, so when you kissed him, it felt like tension was being relieved. His lips molded with yours, kissing you deeply, but softly. He felt your hand creep onto his chest, gripping the fabric pulling him closer to you. Haechan wanted to touch you too so badly, but he was so nervous at the moment.

Somehow you could feel his hesitation, so you wanted to reassure him even though it was boosting your ego a bit. "You can touch me. It's okay, don't be nervous."

"Are you trying to sleep with me," he asked abruptly, but it didn't pass you, just made you laugh a bit.

"Do you want the honest answer or the nice one?" You kissed him again softly, smiling to yourself.

"Honest.."

"Yes I am trying to sleep with you," you admitted. Your kisses moved from his lips to his jawline, kissing his skin gently. "Do you not want to sleep with me?"

Haechan gulped. He didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't know that he never told you about his lack of experience despite being friends with you for a long time. He knew how experienced you were, you were never shy about it. You hooked up with people often, but that stuff was never really for him. He’s had girlfriends and connections with people in the past, but they always lost interest when they found out he never had any experience.

"Y/N, I have something to tell you," he said, looking down at his lap. "I'm..still a virgin."

You weren't as surprised as you thought you should've been. He seemed like he lacked the experience from the moment you put your hands on him. But you didn't mind it at all. "That's okay," you said, tone sweet and comforting. "We don't have to sleep together or anything-"

"I do," he interrupted. "I want to…but I'm not very experienced so I don't want to disappoint you or anything."

Your gaze softened, hands reaching up to cup his face softly. "Listen, don't feel pressured. I don't mind not doing anything, I'm serious."

"I don't feel pressured," he said, shaking his head. "I just really like you, and you're a good friend that I feel comfortable and safe with. I just don't want us to be awkward, you know."

Heachan was sweet. Probably the sweetest guy friend you've ever had. His intentions and feelings were always true and pure, and it made you happy that he felt safe with you. If he really would let you be his first time, you might burst from happiness.

"It won't be awkward, okay? I'll take the lead. You sit back and let me do what I do best." And with that, your lips connected with his again, kissing him. You could still taste the red bull he was drinking on his tongue. You moved your laptop next to you, scooting in front of him all without pulling away. Haechan carefully put his hands on your waist, thumbs subtly falling under the waistline of your skirt.

You pulled away from his lips, face in the crook of his neck kissing his skin. "Has anyone ever given you a blowjob before," you mumbled on his skin. You rubbed your hand up his thigh, squeezing his erection through his pants.

"U-uh, no." Haechan was visibly shaken but also excited. There was no point in him trying to hide his nerves anymore. He just had to let you take the lead.

"Well, there's a first for everything right?" You hooked your fingers on the waist of his basketball shorts and boxers, looking at him before making anymore moves. "Can I?"

Haechan's mouth went dry feeling your hands on him, mind reeling at the thought of you sucking him off. He nodded his head, lifting his hips as you tugged his clothes off his body. You tossed his clothes on the floor next to his bed. Haechan noticed your eyes go a bit wide as you eyed his lap making him feel a bit nervous. "I-is there something wrong?"

"No," you rush, still staring. "Not at all. You're just…big." You wrapped your hand around his shaft, stroking him slowly, easing him into your touch. You watched him as he stared at your hand, brows furrowing as he bit his lip. You stuck your tongue out, letting a ball of spit fall on his tip. Swiping your thumb over his sensitive tip, Haechan let out a shuddering sigh.

He looked up, watching you bend over his lap, face in front of his hard cock. Your eyes never left him as you kissed up his shaft to his tip. Haechan didn't know what to do with his hands, so he laid them flat on his blanket. You kissed his tips softly, licking the slit softly. You stuck your tongue out, dropping your jaw as you took him in your mouth all the way until his tip hit the back of your throat.

Haechan could probably die happily right now. The way your cheeks hollowed as you sucked him and bobbed your head slowly made his mind go blank, the only thing on his brain was the feeling of himself being inside your mouth. You lifted your mouth off of him, adjusting yourself into a more comfortable position. Haechan's breath hitched a bit watching you arch your back. He couldn't see but he could tell your skirt was starting to ride up.

"You okay up there?"

He looked back down at you, nodding his head fast. "I'm fine.."

You snickered, licking the precum off his tip. "You're so cute." You sucked his tip, making the man squirm above you.

"Shit," he moaned softly.

Haechan closed his eyes, letting his head fall against his headboard as you continued to suck him off. For this being his first time, he didn't really know what to expect or what it would feel like, but he does know that this is a thousand times better than using his hand. The way you bobbed your head or took all that you could of him was such a turn on. He didn't know, but you were as eager as he was. Giving him head, forcing those pretty moans and whines from his lips were making you wetter and wetter.

Haechan opened his eyes as looked at you after some time, and he was glad he did. The scene in front of him was messy, hot, all over the place. Spit falling freely from your lips, your eyes watery, starting to affect the mascara on your lashes. He was so close just by looking at you.

You watched him through your lashes, his breathing starting to quicken and brows knitting. You pulled off of him, taking a deep breath when you were finally able to breathe properly. "You can't cum, not yet."

You pulled your shirt over your head, taking it off quickly. You shuffled yourself off the bed pulling your skirt off to reveal your completely soaked lace underwear.

Haechan couldn't take his eyes off the glistening mess between your legs, watching you pull them off your body. You reached in your bra taking out a condom.

"You already had one," he asked, pretty doe eyes looking up at you.

"Mhm." You opened the plastic, pulling it out. "I bring one with me everywhere I go," you say, sliding it onto his hardened length. "You're so hot, you know that?"

Haechan's face goes red, not knowing how to respond to your compliment. How was he so cute even when he sat there with his dick out? "We should probably move your laptop," he said, reaching over to grab it.

"No. Leave it." You pushed his shoulders back onto the headboard softly, making him look at you with a surprised expression. You climbed on top of him, knees straddling him as you unclipped your bra. Haechan had no idea where to look now that you were fully naked on top of him. Your tits were in his face, you were staring at him like you were going to eat him - far too much was running through his mind.

"Are you nervous," you asked softly, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"A little."

You giggled softly, licking your lips as you tilted his head up, kissing him deeply. "If at any point you wanna stop, just tell me." Haechan nodded, breathing a bit frayed from how you positioned his tip at your entrance. You sink yourself onto him slowly, one hand on his shoulder and the other on the base of his length. Haechan's hands naturally grabbed onto your hips, holding them softly.

"Fuck, you're big Haechanie," you moaned softly as he bottomed out in you. You looked down as you started to move watching him go in and out of you. You thought of this moment far too many to count. His hands on your body, lips on your skin.

"Fuck," he sighed, face in the crook of your neck. "T-this feels so good."

"Yeah?"

Haechan nodded moaning softly. His hands moved slowly from your hips down your thighs, squeezing them softly. You took his jaw in your hands gently moving him from the crook of your neck. You leaned down, kissing him with much more passion now. Haechan was completely weak to your touch, desperately kissing you as you started to grind on him faster. Weak whines and whimpers fell onto your tongue as you pressed your body against his.

The soft fabric of his shirt separated his chest from yours, making you sigh onto his lips. "Take this off."

Haechan did as you said, clumsily lifting the shirt over his head and off his body. You let out a soft laugh watching him struggle to get the shirt off his arm, shaking it till it fell on the floor. And just like that, Haechan's lips attached to yours again, arm wrapping around the small of your back as you grinded on top of him. Your moans were like music to his ears, every sense was heightened at the moment.

You pulled away from him slowly, looking down at him with lust filled eyes. "Haechanie,"you moaned softly. "I thought about this so many times." You took one of his hands, placing it on your breast. Haechan looked up at you as if he could melt right there. "Please..just touch me."

"Y/N.." His voice was shaky with pleasure, and it was the cutest thing you ever heard. At this point, he was certain he would cum soon if you kept talking to him like that. The way you moved on top of, the way you squeezed around him almost as if you were made for each other - he's so happy he didn't chicken out of this. "Fuck, I don't know if I can last much longer.."

"It's okay," you nod, completely lost in ecstasy. "Just keep touching me."

Heachan leaned into your chest, licking your nipple softly, looking up at you through his lashes. His hand fondled your chest, squeezing and flicking his tongue over the stiff bud. "Is this okay?"

"Perfect." You were beginning to speed up, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching. At this moment, Haechan let out a soft whine, brows knitting. "I'm so close," you breathed.

"Me..me too." Haechan kissed your breath one more time before sliding his arms back around your back, pulling your body closer to his. You slipped your arms around his neck, hand tangling through his hair. Haechan kissed you eagerly, grunting loudly when he felt you flutter around him. "Shit Y/N I'm gonna cum."

"Cum with me Haechanie." You rest your forehead on his, moans falling from both of your lips. The fire in your stomach exploded almost immediately when you came around him, legs shaking when you squeezed tighter around him. Haechan was so sensitive, never feeling anything like this before, so when you squeezed around him, he came instantly, filling the rubber around his length. The loud gasp and moans from the both of you filled the room, sounds almost a bit pornographic to your ears.

The both of you stayed where you were, catching your breaths still against each other's bodies. Your chest was leaning into his body. Just when you were about to lift yourself off of him, he hugged your body tighter.

"You're the only person I wanted this to happen with," he mumbled.

You smiled, kissing his forehead. "I'm glad you let me."

Haechan sighed, licking his lips before speaking. "I'm sorry if it wasn't what you were hoping for."

You lifted your body, looking down at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You probably wanted me to fuck the daylights out of you or something," he chuckled softly. "I'm sorry you had to do all the work."

"Haechanie.." The nickname turned him into a puppy, his brown eyes now staring up at you attentively. "I don't care that I had to do all the work. I had a good time, and I hope you did too considering it was your first time."

Haechan kissed you, but instead of it being lustful, it was sweet. "I really do like you."

"And I like you too." You went into this wanting to just have a physical relationship with him, but it was becoming increasingly clear that you wanted something more, just like him. "I think we should go on a date."

"W-what?" Haechan was completely flustered, cheeks going red almost instantly. "A date? With me?"

You nodded, moving your hands from around his neck. You took his hands that were on you back and placed them on your waist. "Yeah. Tonight or tomorrow, I don't really care. Unless you don't like me that much," you teased.

"No! I'd love to go on a date with you," he answered quickly. "Tomorrow is good."

You gave him a small smile, pecking his lips softly. You lifted your body off of him slowly, sighing when you could no longer feel the pressure between your legs. "Come shower with me?"

"Y-yeah." Haechan stood up, stumbling on his own feet making you laugh.

This day wasn't something he had in his bingo card for the year, but he's glad it happened, especially with you. Hopefully, you wouldn't go home soon because he honestly wanted it again.

#nct #nct u #nct fanfic #nct dream #nct smut #nct x reader #nct oneshot #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct haechan #haechan #haechan fanfic #haechan fluff #haechan smut #haechan scenarios #haechan imagines #haechan drabbles #nct imagines

641 notes · View notes

zephyrstargame · 4 months

Text

well here's something I can do!

this is a little spin on an idea i've been seeing around that i think is wonderful... I personally, am not in the best financial place to be donating, but i can use my platform as a game developer to help out and do something cool at the same time :3

In exchange for donating esims to gaza, I'm gonna populate the world of Zephyr Star with your characters as NPCs! currently: OPEN!!

Here's the deal-- scurry on over to gazaesims.com to figure out how to buy and donate an esim to the people who need em-- any plan works for me, as long as you're gettin something out there!

then slip into my DMs (or anywhere else you can contact me directly) and show me a screenshot of the email, preferably with timestamps for proof that it's from after this post was posted... or really, any proof that you did do the thing-- also show me:

a reference image for what character you want me put in the game

what this character should say as an NPC (just a few lines at most) (optional; if you'd like i can just write some general dialogue instead)

how you would like to be credited in the in-game credits (ie what name i should put)

below the cut are some submission guidelines and extra notes, please also read that if you're interested :>

here are some general submission guidelines:

nothing too lewd, please!

or racist

or otherwise offensive

fandom ocs MIGHT be fine if they're Legally Distinct enough from the source material, but try not to get me sued here

In general, this game's world has No Humans, but that's not a strict requirement-- just a general suggestion

and keep in mind that characters with super intricate details might have to be simplified in order to work as pixel art

otherwise, anything works! furries, robots, sentient objects, your cat, whatever

and here's some notes, so you know what to expect:

i'll take anywhere between a few hours to a few days to finish, depends on how i'm feeling... either way, i'll tag you in a new post when i'm done!

the character will be done in small pixel art, with maybe some additional effects if i feel it works for the design

i will adjust the sprite size depending on the character-- an average sized character is drawn on a 32x32 canvas but if it's like a giant or really tall or something, i'd make it bigger so that the scale is accurate

everyone also gets a zoomed in headshot for the dialogue portrait

no secret bosses, shopkeepers, or other special story purpose for now, sorry! these are just some guys that stand around and say 1 or 2 lines as you go about your adventure

im putting the characters in various places at random, but if you want your guy to be in a certain type of location in-game let me know

this game is STILL in relatively early development-- but i do promise that each and every submission will be in there by the end! it might take yeaaaars for the full game to finally be out, but i'll be posting screenshots as I put em in the game so you know im not slacking around :>

and alongside the screenshot, i'll also post the sprites on their own if you'd like to save them for yourself

legal stuff uhhhhh im not good at legal stuff-- by participating, you are giving me permission to use your submitted character in the final game-- credit will be given in-game where you would expect to see it (the credits) and i will not claim ownership of any of your guys

(cartoon mafia boss voice) if at any point you want your character scrubbed out of the game, or you want anything changed, let me know in my DMs or anywhere else you can contact me and *click* *sinister laugh* we'll make it happen

no money goes to me ever, im not even gonna be the middlesnake between you and the esims-- i just think its less of a hassle to work this way -w-

did i get everything? i think that's everything... if i forgot something important sorry i'm a scatterbrain failgirl who has never done anything like this before im trying my best okay

may the rift be filled with your cool little guys! but more importantly, let's keep gaza connected! free palestine! 🍉

#free palestine #esims for gaza #game development #indiedev

125 notes · View notes

morninggmitch · 9 months

Text

oh lird. heres my color crew ref line up + height chart ! (measured by top of head, horns, ears, hats, and/or antenna dont count!) click for better quality :3 umm click read more for character profiles if ur interested in that! :>

so my kier and dev designs r actually nether imps!! imps being a lesser kind of demon. kier is from a species of imps called crimson forest imp, and likewise dev is a warped forest imp. I have a lot of notes on the two subspecies of imps and their culture that i will probably have to keep to a different post as it's A Lot (can you tell im so autistic over this.)

boosfer.. you may think hes an angel or hails from the end but its actually a lot more complicated than that! no one really knows where hes from and hes technically considered a shapeshifter and can honestly take whatever form he wants (therefore making any design he is drawn as considered canon!) hes probably some kind of demi god honestly. trickster god type beat

jack and baablu are both enderian! jack being a warped forest enderman (subspecies of enderman that live in warped forests. if that wasnt obvious) and baablu... im not so sure. i know i want him to be from the end but not an enderman. possibly some kind of enderman off shoot like jack ? or rare mutation ? idk. regardless. guys from the end!

bubbo and qndres are both what one may consider "enchanted" individuals. in bubbo's case moreso a curse? depends on how you look at it. he was once a human player who was enchanted in some way to become a slime! but since he is enchanted he has special properties like enhancing potion effects when he drinks them :)

as for qndres, he was never human but there was a time where he was not sentient. a very long time ago he was a stone gargolye enchanted to come to life. he can enter a state of hibernation that lasts hundreds of years and will usually embed himself in a wall or sit in a cave when he does, reverting back to a solid stone. he actually met the rest of the color crew when they were doing a manhunt and found his sleeping form carved into the wall of a spawner dungeon (and accidentally woke him up)

as for fantst vitjok and yello... they are most simply anthropomorphic creatures. fantst an axolotl, vitjok a moth, and yello a coyote. not much else i can say about them!!

hey if you scrolled this far thanks for reading all this :) i have lots of thoughts about the color crew (special interest!) and if u want to talk about them to me please please pleaasseeee do not hesitate i will become so insane.

#kier and dev #boosfer #bubbo2000 #baablu #qndres #jackattack101go #vitjok #yellowool #fantst #color crew #mcyt

153 notes · View notes

teruthecreator · 11 months

Text

(tw for racism, pedophilia, transphobia, child impregnation mention)

yeah idk why y'all read this

i was originally going to just post this and have some tags with my reasonings, but i realized that opens me up to too much bullshit from people who may think i'm being unnecessarily mean or whatever. so i'm going to explain exactly why the screenshots above are something i hold issue with.

firstly, and i just want to get this out of the way, this post is not intended to be a hit piece against the creator. i've seen how she reacts to any mild-mannered or slightly joking criticism, so i know this post is probably going to not land well. but it isn't my intention to make her mad or anything--she's writing a piece of content for the internet, which means she is just as open to criticism as any other poster. and what i intend to go into in this post is criticism. i'm allowed to do this, as that is the nature of the internet. people are allowed to critique whatever they please, and if you don't want critique then you shouldn't post. simple as!

i am also making no attempts to posit myself as better than the creator. i'm not doing this for clout or moral superiority or any of that dumb shit. i simply want to discuss something that's been bothering me for a bit, while simultaneously warning people who haven't read this yet (who may be sensitive to the issues above) to steer clear. if things like casual racism or transphobia aren't properly tagged, then readers who are affected by such things run a risk reading this! same goes with people who are triggered by lewd content involving minors. i wanna make sure people are getting a more critical scope of this work than what has been hoisted up by others.

okay, now that i've gotten that out of the way, i'm going to get into my points.

firstly, the subtle and not-so-subtle racism throughout this fic, especially in relation to serizawa. i'm white, so there is only so much i can speak on without trampling over the words of other fans of color, but some of this feels so blatant it's odd it hasn't been noted earlier. it's important to note before i go into it that serizawa is specifically written as half-black half-japanese for this fic, in case the screenshots don't make it abundantly clear. but there are just too many moments of casual racism in this fic. i'm not talking about the plot point of serizawa being bullied as a kid for being mixed; i'm not mixed, so i can't speak on the accuracy there but it is well-known that black people face a lot of racism in japan. i'm talking about how it seems everyone else has these racist moments that aren't acknowledged by serizawa or the narration as being bad.

reigen hypothesizing over serizawa's exact ethnic background is just strange. yes he's a fairly observant guy (he has to be, with his job), but there is no canonical evidence to suggest he would immediately jump to theorizing whether serizawa is american or not. and the way it's posed in that first quote--"he has darker skin and the kind of hair texture that would likely indicate African ancestry"--is not great. that's an extremely inappropriate way to bring up someone's race. i don't think most people would stare at someone and be like "hmmm well your nose shape and hair texture would suggest you're of this race". it's racial essentialization that is only slightly covered up by the excuse of "oh he tweets in english". there are some other smaller moments of questionable wording, like calling serizawa's afro "sloppy" when it isnt (which btw there's another issue with the creator only referring to an afro as a "fro". it's a hairstyle; you're allowed to use the actual name of it). even if reigen cuts his hair in canon, he never states it's because serizawa's afro looks sloppy. (also there's something to be said about the casual racism baked into making your employee cut his natural hairstyle for a job, as that is a very real issue many black people face when wearing their natural hair or even protective styles in the workplace.)

i'm especially bothered by toichiro's very casual racist remarks. toichiro in this fic is a general bother of mine (most of which can be boiled down to "he would not fucking say that"), but the way she chooses to characterize him in relation to serizawa feels gross. calling a black man a slave should be a very obvious red flag, but also saying serizawa (again, as a black man) has a "brutal masculine appeal" is also extremely stereotypical and racist. and really there is just no need for it; toichiro's actions in canon prove how shitty of a guy he is without the need for him to be racist (along with other things i'll get to in a bit). as my girlfriend put it: he doesn't need to be a member of the fucking kkk to show he's a bad guy.

there's also, again, the very casual racist remark of calling serizawa a "dog". i don't care if that isn't the intent; when you are writing a character of color you need to be aware of your wording, even in insults (unless she intended to make tsuchiya racist, which i don't think she did).

secondly, the eugenics/child pregnancy bit. it is surreal to even have to write this, but i seriously do not understand the purpose of either of these bits in the story. they are so minor yet so jarring you can't help but wonder why they're there. once again, i do not think you need to have toichiro doing esper eugenics just to prove he is an evil guy. he has nuance, and by making him casually reference child pregnancy (like that isn't an INSANE thing to say) reduces that nuance to nothing. that's the only reason i could see why that bit was included: to make toichiro look worse. but, even still, the author is running the risk of potentially triggering victims of csa or people who don't want to see that by not properly tagging the mention of it (or, at the very least, warning readers in the intro notes). the only other explanation for it would maybe be shock factor??? but that's a pretty shitty thing to use for shock factor, if i'm honest. also the fact that the esper eugenics was referenced again in a more recent chapter just has me very disturbed and confused. there isn't a canonical explanation for why we see less espers who are women than espers who are men, but that doesn't mean we need to jump to fucking Eugenics. it's weird!

thirdly (and this is probably one of my biggest problems and the main reason i wanted to make this post), the weirdly lewd/sexual language shou uses constantly, along with referring to reigen as a pedo or a creep at several points. frankly, i think it's pretty fucking gross for someone in their near-40's to be writing a 12-year-old talking so casually about sex like that's normal. which, i'm sorry, but it's not. yes, teens know about sex and like to joke about lewd shit. but a 12-year-old is not about to make references to a grown man's virginity. 12-year-olds draw dicks on their desk bc they think it's funny. 12-year-olds say the word "buttfuck" because it has the words "butt" and "fuck" in it, and those are the two funniest words on earth to a kid that age. i literally do not understand the purpose of having shou be so lewd all the time. for one, it doesn't make sense for his character. shou is shown time and time again to be extremely mature for his age, but that maturity extends to shit like assembling a counter-terrorism unit and extending a hand to his father to allow him to try again. and even then he's still just as naive as any other kid his age! the omake where he's telling his guys to go to the "far right corner" based on ritsu’s advice proves that he still has plenty of blindspots that are indicative of his age. leaning into this raunchy, lewd version of shou is just weird. and, again, i think it is made a bit weirder given the author's age!!! not ageshaming or whatever--i'm 23 and i write fanfic, clearly i cannot judge there--but it is just extremely inappropriate in my opinion. also having shou be more versed in sextalk than serizawa is odd too and speaks to a larger issue of serizawa's infantilzation throughout this fic, but that's something i can get into in another post if people want an explanation.

also, the way she constantly calls reigen a creep and even has him being accused of being a pedophile during the twitter cancellation is extremely inappropriate when, again, there is NO CANONICAL BASIS FOR THIS! everyone just calls him a fraud and a scammer during separation arc; there is never a reference to reigen being seen as a pedophile in that arc. and, yes, while there are versions of mob psycho where reigen is very clearly written as a creep (looking very specifically at the netflix adaptation), that doesn't mean it's good. honestly, the creep mentions all just feel like really poor jokes that do not land in the slightest.

finally, the transphobia (aka WHY IS SHIMAZAKI A CHASER). i literally do not know what else to say other than: why? why is this a thing? why is he a chaser? what is the purpose of this? is it a joke? i feel like it's supposed to be, but seeing as the author is cis i don't think that's a joke she should really be making. it not only comes out of left field, but it's just kind of a weird thing to ascribe to a character for no reason. not to mention, it's uncomfortable! trans women deal with enough creepy antics from cis men in real life--why must they be accosted by this guy too? it's just weird and uncomfortable.

i wanna round out this post by saying, once again, that i'm not trying to attack anyone with this post. but i do hope people come away from this with a new perspective on this work, and maybe think twice before recommending it uncritically to someone. to the author specifically, i hope you can read my post without rage or indignance blinding you. i might be a little blunt or rude in parts, but it's only because i'm passionate and i don't mince my words when it comes to things i'm passionate about. to the readers, understand i am not judging you for reading this fic without noticing these things. your own life experiences will give you certain blindspots and there's nothing wrong with that. i have plenty of blindspots of my own! it's what makes us human.

there is more i could say, but this post is long enough. i ask that if you come to me in my inbox or in dms about this that you treat me with respect, as i will do that for you. writing something like this took a lot out of me, as i'm usually not so open about my opinion on shit like this.

have a good day :-)

#mp100 #side quest #yeah this is all from <- that fic btw #ive been sitting on this for about a week or so bc ive been nervous abt posting something like this #i dont want people to think im making a callout post just to call shit out #im doing this bc i dont want people to get triggered by this content and because i want fans to be more critical of the content they consum #media literacy is something A LOT of fandoms struggle with and it leads to things being praised uncritically #i simply want people to have perspective when going into a thing #anyways uh. goodbye <3 #edit: took the tw tags off bc tumblr was suppressing the post bc of it #so PLEASE heed the warning at the top if u have specific triggers and things

148 notes · View notes

foundress0fnothing · 5 months

Text

Firm and Fragrant Still the Brambleberries

For @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk. Happy Holidays! It has been such a joy to get to know you over these last few months. You are wonderful and brilliant, and I cannot wait to FINALLY be able to scream in your comments about my obsession with Semper Eadem without arousing your suspicions.

Many thanks to @velidewrites and @perhapsajacket for beta reading this first part of this fic and reassuring me that the Nessian vibes were working. And many thanks to @acotargiftexchange for putting together this wonderful event. Y’all are the absolute best! 🥰

Summary: When Nesta became a nurse at the start of the war, she could not have predicted a patient as challenging as Lieutenant Cassian Davies, nor he a nurse as captivating as her. As the same war that brought them together threatens to tear them apart, Nesta and Cassian must navigate the complexities of love and duty to find the way back to each other. A WWI historical AU.

For information about the historical elements to this fic, see the end notes.

This is chapter 1 of 4.

Read on AO3 or continue reading below the cut!

Chapter 1: Somerville College, Oxford

July 1916

“I think of you hour by hour. You are always close in your own secret place in my heart. I hold you in my arms when no one else is near. I kiss your forehead, your eyes, your hair. No, not your lips, dear, even in fancy. I have never in my maddest dreams kissed your lips. But I ache and crave and long for them, though—till you give me leave—I dare not even pretend that they are mine. Will you ever give me leave? You say No now. Yet I think you will, Avery. I think you will. I have known ever since that first moment—”

“He’s asking for you again.”

Nesta looked up from her book to see Gwyn Berdara’s head poking through the doorway. It was late—or early, rather, she realized, blearily squinting at the clock on the wall and rubbing her eyes. She should have retired to her bed in the dormitory hours ago, and from the pleased look on Gwyn’s face at catching her off-guard, her fellow nurse was well-aware of that fact.

“Surely someone who’s actually on duty,” Nesta said, yawning and looking pointedly at Gwyn, “can take care of whatever it is he needs.”

Gwyn snorted. “Apparently there’s no one except ‘Nurse Nes’ who can make the pain go away with her magic touch.” She waggled her eyebrows. “So it’s a good thing you’re still here.”

Bristling at the nickname that only one of the soldiers convalescing at the Third Southern General Hospital was shameless enough to call her, she replied curtly, “I’m not going. Tell him I’m not here.”

“I don’t think he’d believe me,” Gwyn said, grinning.

“And why is that?”

“Because,” said Emerie Carynth, appearing suddenly beside Gwyn and wearing a matching smile on her face, “I told him you’d still be here.”

Nesta glared at her.

“Not on purpose, I swear,” Emerie quickly amended. “But don’t think I missed that you have a copy of Dell’s new romance.” Nesta glanced down at the book she still held open in her hands, her attention briefly flicking back to the dramatic confessional love letter left she had been in the middle of reading. “We saw you try to hide it in the dining room when it came in the post. I bet Gwyn you wouldn’t be able to wait until you got home to start it.”

Returning her focus to her traitorous fellow nurse, Nesta frowned. “That doesn’t explain how he knows I’m still here.”

“He may have overheard me celebrating my victory a few minutes ago.” She smirked. “Gwyn has to take my shifts with Merrill for the next week.”

Nesta grimaced. The older nurse was brutal to work with, especially if she thought the VAD nurses like Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta were shirking their responsibilities. She accommodating enough for the soldiers, but all the nurses knew to steer clear of her wrath whenever possible.

Gwyn nodded at Nesta’s expression. “And he was my next patient when Emerie found me.”

“And what? He forced you to come back here and bother me?”

“He asked nicely.”

“Weak, Gwyneth Berdara. Weak.” Nesta knew her fellow nurse had a soft spot for soldiers like him who bore their injuries with grace and good humor, willing to crack a joke or, if they were not too injured, gambol about the grounds during recreation hours. Especially if those soldiers were tall and dark-haired and unreasonably muscled.

Gwyn shrugged unapologetically. “Like he doesn’t make you flustered, Nesta.”

“He does not,” Nesta bit out. Exasperated, absolutely. Incensed, occasionally. Even, in rare moments, begrudgingly amused. But certainly not flustered.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are,” Emerie said, grinning with a faux innocence that Nesta didn’t believe for a moment. “He’s not even my type,” she smirked. “But I have eyes.”

“I hate you.”

“As much as you hate him?”

“More.”

Gwyn hummed. “Lucky Emerie.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oh, nothing. I’ve just never known anyone whose hate looked so much like desire before.”

Emerie winked salaciously at Nesta, who only rolled her eyes at her friends’ antics. “I’m still not going.”

“Sure you’re not, Nurse Nes.”

“Emerie, I swear—”

“He expected you’d say that.” Gwyn smiled, interrupting them. “And he told me to tell you that if you didn’t come help him, he’d have to cope with the pain through song.”

“Arse.” She had heard him singing with the men before—loud, raucous marching songs that seemed to be dictated primarily by enthusiasm rather than any actual musical talent. “So he intends to wake the whole wing if I don’t go? That’s asking nicely, Gwyn?”

Gwyn shrugged. “I’m sure Clotho and Merrill wouldn’t blame you for it.”

But they would, Nesta knew. When she paused her studies at Somerville to join the VAD and the military hospital that sprang up in what had once been her college, she and her fellow volunteers were told to make the patients in their care as happy as possible, no matter what. They were not to do anything that would cause a scandal, of course, but barring that, any desire was considered reasonable—extra food after mealtimes, a new pillow every hour, even time with a preferred nurse if requested. After all, they were exactly what the first letter of their organization’s acronym indicated: voluntary. They had no previous training, no credentials or certificates like those possessed by the professional nurses who oversaw them. What did they know?

Quite a bit, and often more than the so-called ‘professionals’. Certainly more than they did a year and a half ago when they first entered the service. Nesta may have been raised in a manor house, bred for marriage and comfort after the culmination of her studies, but the war had changed all of that, had changed her. She was no longer a stranger to fluids and grotesque injuries, to bodies and hard, messy work. Gwyn and Emerie were the same.

But none of that mattered, not really, to the more senior nurses, except for the fact that it made their jobs marginally easier. The VAD women were still expected to appease and please. So they did.

Nesta sighed, looking forlornly at the book she wouldn’t get to pick up again for at least another day.

“I’ll tell him to expect you in ten minutes, then?” Gwyn asked, reading her decision on her face.

“Yes, alright,” Nesta grumbled, standing and stretching for the first time in—she glanced again at the clock—three hours. She hoped that whatever nonsense she was about to face would resolve itself quickly enough that she could get home and sleep, although, she thought, as she began to gather her things, she wouldn’t count on it.

“Hope Dell’s book was worth it!” Emerie called as she moved out of the doorway and back into the darkened ward.

“I’m sure it was,” Gwyn said to Nesta, following Emerie out. “Piers’ letter?” She asked knowingly.

“Piers’ letter.” Nesta mimed fanning herself, and Gwyn laughed as she left Nesta to gather her things.

Grumbling about needing to find new friends, Nesta slowly made her way into what had once been the West dining room. With thin walls, cramped quarters, and a confusing odor of long-forgotten roast dinners mingled with astringent antiseptics, it was ill-suited to its current purpose as a hospital ward.

Almost as ill-suited, Nesta mused to herself as she wended her way through the beds of sleeping men, as she was to the nursing profession. Her friends seemed to take to the profession naturally: Gwyn had quickly amassed a staggering knowledge of illness and injuries and could diagnose patients quicker than most of the physicians; Emerie demonstrated a singular talent for using the standard physician-prescribed therapies in innovative ways to help the soldiers progress more quickly along their healing journey.

Nesta had no such mastery. She wasn’t incompetent at any task, and was quite good at many of them, but she did not have any particular specialty. Nor did she excel at the ‘appease and please’ aspect of her role. She had little patience for the soldiers’ petty complaints, their bored antics, their casual flirting. She did her job, cared for her patients professionally and efficiently, shutting down their attempts for favors and conversation and flirtation, and went home to her books at the end of the day. It was how she liked it. And it meant that, over time, few soldiers particularly liked her.

All except one.

At the sound of her approaching footsteps, Nesta saw him turn his head, a satisfied smile already stretching across his face that, had he been anyone else, would have caused Nesta’s heart to start racing.

As a man, Lieutenant Cassian Davies was magnetic. Handsome in a rugged kind of way, he was imposingly tall and broad with a body that, even injured as it was, spoke of lethal grace and destructive power. His face bore the proof of this: small scars cut across his eyebrows and lips, and his nose had clearly been broken and reset at least once. His hazel eyes often shone with a mirth that drew soldiers and nurses alike to his bedside, but there was an edge to them as well—something surprisingly hard and deceptively calculating. Like all of the men convalescing at their hospital, Lieutenant Davies had seen tremendous bloodshed, but he alone seemed to rise above it, to possess some inherent mastery over it. He was dangerous and desirable in equal measure, and though Nesta refused to join in with the other nurses when they gushed about him in the privacy of their dormitory, she couldn’t deny his appeal.

As a patient though? He was everything she loathed: loud, flirtatious, stubborn, and shamelessly relentless in his attempts to irritate her.

“Nurse Nes!”

“Threatening to wake the ward is a new low, even for you, Lieutenant Davies. And don’t call me that.” Nesta hissed, approaching his bedside and glaring down at him.

“Sweetheart—” Lieutenant Davies raised his good arm in an attempt to pacify her, but Nesta interrupted him.

“Wrong again, Lieutenant.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Nurse Archeron,” he apologized with mock contrition, affecting the tone of an impudent schoolboy brought before his headmaster. “I’m so glad you could make it. I was just about to treat the lads to a rendition of ‘Pack Up Your Troubles.’”

Nesta didn’t dignify that with a response, choosing instead to look over his chart to guess at what it was he might need. The sooner she could figure it out, the sooner she could leave Lieutenant Davies and his foolishness behind. She could make it through this without succumbing to his antics. She could be professional. She could.

Even with her eyes focused on his chart, however, she felt the weight of his gaze on her, deciding how best to challenge her attempt at professionalism.

And then he found it: “I still could sing, you know. You might benefit from hearing the chorus.”

She whipped her head up and saw his eyes spark with pleasure at having successfully baited her, but she was too irritated to care. “‘Smile, smile, smile?’” Nesta asked, biting out the lyrics.

“You already know the words! You’ll be a natural in no time.”

“Please.” She resisted the urge to argue further, forcing herself to direct her attention back to the chart in her hands. Could he want another pillow? Or more food? Was he due for—

“So, what do you say, Nes?” Lieutenant Davies asked, interrupting her train of thought. “Are you going to smile, smile, smile?” He grinned as he softly sang the melody.

“Your singing is atrocious.”

He scoffed. “It’s excellent. Now, my dancing—.”

“I can only imagine that it’s even worse, Lieutenant Davies,” she interrupted.

“Once I get back up on my feet again I promise to show you just how wrong you are. Don’t think I didn’t notice you considering a smile.”

“Enough.” This had to end. Nesta could feel the weight of her hair heavy on her head after having it tied up in her standard braided coronet all day, and that, coupled with Lieutenant Davies’ teasing, was threatening to give her a headache. “What do you want?”

“Nesta Archeron,” he admonished, and Nesta chose to ignore the way her body shivered at the sound of her full name on his lips. “We have got to work on your bedside manner.”

She huffed. “If you find it so appalling, there are at least a dozen other nurses who would be more than happy to assist you.”

“I told Gwynnie. None of them have your magic touch.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Nes—”

“Wake the whole ward for all I care.” She dropped his chart with a clatter and turned on her heel, ready to storm out

There was a pause, and then, before she could take a step, Lieutenant Davies called out softly, “My shoulder is a little sore.”

Nesta imagined it was. The report of his injury at the Somme had been a gruesome note in what was and continued to be the bloodiest battle of the war thus far, and one that just kept going, if the steady stream of new patients into the hospital was anything to be believed. A few days into the battle, Lieutenant Davies had been wounded by shell fragments that embedded themselves into his chest and shoulder, some dangerously close to his lungs. He bore the injury well, but from the lines etched on his face and the tension in his jaw, she could tell it ached more than he let on. He would be bedridden for at least another two weeks before physical therapy could begin.

“And you couldn’t ask Nurse Berdara for another dose of morphine?”

“You make me feel like I’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

She snorted at that. “Fine.” She stooped to gather the supplies she would need from a low shelf on the cart at the foot of his bed, then turned to pull on gloves and prepare the needle for the injection. “But only because you were due for one anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Nurse Archeron. I know you like me.” As she administered the drug, he began humming quietly, his body slowly loosening as it worked its way through his system.

“Done. Goodnight, Lieutenant Davies.”

“No goodnight kiss?” He murmured the question as his eyes shuttered closed, relentlessly flirtatious to the last.

Nesta watched the morphine lull Lieutenant Davies into a deep sleep. “For you? I think not.”

She turned and made her way quietly out of the ward, thinking of her bed and her book. And if her thoughts drifted back to a certain sleeping soldier and she smiled slightly? Well, there was no one awake to notice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 1916

“How are you feeling, Lieutenant Davies?”

Cassian looked up from the casualty sheets he had been apprehensively scanning for his brothers’ names to find Sr. Merrill, one of the older nurses who oversaw the hospital, standing at the foot of his bed.

His arm fucking ached—not that he would say that to a nun. He hadn’t lost all his manners in the trenches.

Just most of them. And especially when faced with the pretty nurse who made him feel more than a little stupid with her honey-brown hair and sharp tongue. But Nesta Archeron was nowhere in sight, nor had she been for several days—attempting to avoid him, most likely.

So he only answered, “Still a little sore, m’am. But better than yesterday.”

Sr. Merrill smiled at that. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re in good spirits. You’re to start physical therapy today.”

Cassian could have wept with joy. Although the injury had been localized to his upper body, the damage had been severe enough that the doctors had insisted that he remain bedridden and stuck indoors for at least a month. And he had, albeit reluctantly. For someone used to near-constant activity, whose men called him ‘the General’ for the drills he would put them (and himself) through between battles, a month of idleness was akin to torture. There were only so many card games a man could play or books he could read, only so many soldiers and nurses he could talk to, and (in his bleaker moments) only so many times he could catalog in minute detail the unidentifiable stains that graced the walls of the ward. Restless and bored, Cassian was more than ready to get back on his feet, to breathe fresh air and feel the sun on his face again. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. I have you scheduled with Nurse Carynth. She’s one of our best for physical therapy.”

Cassian knew her. Strikingly pretty and statuesque, she could out-swear most of the men and had earned her reputation as an excellent physical therapist through a combination of what appeared to be genuine brilliance and a singular ability to browbeat and cajole her patients into pushing themselves. He had seen her work with a few of the other men from his company, and knew that if anyone else in the hospital deserved the title of ‘the General,’ it would be her.

But he wondered—“I’ve heard she’s effective, yes, but,” He paused, looking for the right words, although he knew that Sr. Merrill and the other nurses were inclined to humor their patients’ requests whenever possible. “I was wondering if I could work with someone else.”

“Oh?” She looked puzzled, but pulled out a pen to note the change. “Do you have a specific nurse in mind?”

Cassian smiled.

He was still smiling as he sat in Sr. Merrill’s office the following day listening to an incensed Nesta Archeron argue with her supervisor.

“No.” She said, her blue-gray eyes flashing flintily as she crossed her arms. “I’m not working with him.”

Sr. Merrill raised an eyebrow. “And why not? Do you have an objection to working with Lieutenant Davies?”

“Yes.”

When Nesta didn’t elaborate, Sr. Merrill gestured for her to continue. “Go on.”

Nesta tilted her head, and Cassian could tell she was calculating her response. “It’s not personal,” she began.

Cassian snorted. He knew that it absolutely was. Nesta Archeron was the one nurse at Somerville who couldn’t stand him. From the look on Sr. Merrill’s face, the older nurse knew that as well, although she did an admirable job trying to hide it.

“It’s not.” Nesta turned to face him for the first time since they entered the office a few minutes ago. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. He could feel the anger radiating off of her, burning cold and sharp and exhilarating. It had been over a month since Cassian had seen any combat, but watching her like this scratched the same itch, and he knew that he would do any number of unspeakable things to keep stoking that fire.

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Then what might be the issue, Nurse Archeron?”

She glared at his use of her correct title for once, knowing he only did it to irritate her in front of her supervisor, then turned back to face Sr. Merrill with a barely audible huff.

“My reasons are professional. I am not a particularly skilled physical therapist, and the severity of Lieutenant Davies’ injuries suggests that he’ll need special attention. He should be working with Nurse Carynth or Nurse Madja.”

Sr. Merrill frowned at that. “You’ll be following a plan of care left by one of the doctors, so there’s no need for you to do anything terribly innovative. That’s not your role here.”

“I know you’ll take good care of me, Nurse Archeron,” Cassian added, doing his best to look sincere. And he was, mostly. Nesta may not have been the warmest nurse at Somerville, but she was a damn good one. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

She didn’t respond to his comment, but Cassian was familiar enough with her expressions after a month of making a study of her to know she wanted to roll her eyes, and he couldn’t help the grin that began to break over his face.

“But I know how you VAD girls are,” Sr. Merrill interrupted, forestalling any further argument between them with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her tone dripped with derision, and Cassian’s grin faded as he saw Nesta tense, her spine straightening.“If you’re truly unwilling, I’m sure Lieutenant Davies will accept another nurse for his therapy.” She paused. “But I will be making a note in your file, Nurse Archeron.”

Nesta’s lips tightened. Cassian grimaced slightly as he observed her wage a silent war with herself, feeling increasingly ill-at-ease with his provocation of this element of the hospital’s hierarchical drama.

“Well, Nurse Archeron?” Sr. Merrill asked.

Cassian watched Nesta collect herself. The changes were subtle–her spine remained straight, unbowed by the weight of the threat, but he saw the way she banked the fire burning in her eyes until all that seemed to remain was a cool, professional detachment. He hated it.

But he knew her answer.

“I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Sr. Merrill handed Nesta a folder that Cassian presumed was his plan of care. “Thank you for wasting everyone’s time.”

Nesta took the folder and stood abruptly, stalking out of the room.

“Lieutenant Davies,” Sr. Merrill addressed him, drawing his attention away from Nesta’s retreating form. “I understand if you’d like to switch nurses after that … display.” She looked distastefully toward the door. “I have always believed that you boys deserve better than being subjected to the whims of spoiled ladies unused to hard work.”

Cassian stood stiffly, his injured arm aching from tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and frowned down at Sr. Merrill. “I meant what I said. I trust Nurse Archeron to take care of me.” His tone was sharp, defensive.

Sr. Merrill sniffed. “Of course. See that I don’t hear any complaints from your commander if you remain on the injury register longer than you ought.”

“You won’t. M’am.” With a sharp nod of his head, Cassian turned to follow after Nesta, moving a damn sight slower than he would have preferred. His arm throbbed and his legs felt heavy and stiff, aggravatingly fatigued already.

Nesta had stopped by the entrance to the ward, presumably to wait for him, her gaze focused off into the distance rather than watching his progress.

Cassian didn’t rush—wouldn’t have, even if he could have moved more quickly—taking the time instead to study her. She still wore the detached professionalism she had donned during the meeting, but her eyes were tired, wearied after the confrontation with Merrill. He wanted the fire back.

And he knew how to get it. Quashing his still-lingering guilt, he asked, “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

She startled slightly, coming out of whatever reverie she had been caught in, and scowled up at him as he drew abreast of her. “I’m not in the mood for this right now.”

He smiled to hear a hint of spirit back in her voice. “I’ll take you in whatever mood I can get, Nes.”

She hummed, her gaze assessing and the set of her mouth unimpressed. “Let’s get this over with, then.”

With that, she pulled open the door to the ward and began walking deeper into the room, not stopping to see if Cassian was following after her.

He trailed along behind, noting that she passed the door that led outside onto the lawn where most of the other officers had been led by their respective nurses for therapy or recreation. The late summer day was inviting, after all—bright and sunny and warm after a span of rainy weeks.

Because of this, the ward was nearly empty, so Cassian called out to her, “I didn’t mean to cause any problems, you know.”

Her gait didn’t change, but he saw the tilt of her head as she considered his words. “That’s not an apology.”

“You’re right,” he conceded. “I didn’t know about Merrill. I’m sorry for having involved her. But,” he smiled, “I’m not sorry you’re assigned to me.”

“We’ll see,” she said, finally stopping and turning around to face him.

Nesta had led them to a room at the back of the ward. It was small and slightly dingy; he guessed that it had once been some kind of larder for the college before the war.

Cassian looked inside and then back at her, a question in his eyes.

She raised an eyebrow, gesturing for him to go inside. “After you.”

“I thought officers got to go outside for their therapies.” He looked back longingly toward the door to the lawn, the late summer morning streaming through the window panes nearly irresistible after a month indoors.

“Not the ones assigned to me. Everything we need is right here in this room,” she said. She wasn’t quite smiling, but he could see a hint of malicious pleasure gleaming at the corners of her eyes.

Cassian forced himself to smile, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t evident. Well played, Sweetheart. He turned to the only weapon he had remaining because he damn sure wasn’t about to give her this victory easily. “It certainly is, sweetheart. And we’ll get to be so close,” he all but purred, trying to ruffle her feathers.

But she only rolled her eyes and began setting up the space according to whatever was detailed on his chart, dragging a chair and a few small weights to the center of the room.

He turned to cast a final glance back, wondering what he could do to change her mind. Surely she didn’t want to spend the day cooped up inside too. What would she want? Would she want him to beg for it? Would he?

He would. For her. And for the outdoors.

But then the sound of a throat clearing delicately brought him back to the cell of a larder, and he returned his attention to Nesta. Her eyes were on him, head tilted to the side like a predator studying its prey.

“Positive you don’t want to work with Nurse Carynth now?”

Cassian looked her over, his gaze catching on the blue-gray eyes that dared him to call her bluff, and he smiled, a real one this time. He would play her game. For now. “Positive. Do your worst, Nurse Nes.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A few notes on the historical elements of this chapter:

— The title of this fic comes from Robert Graves’ poem “Intercession in Late October.”

— The quote that opens this chapter is from Ethel M. Dell’s Bars of Iron, which was one of the best-selling books of 1916. Dell wrote hugely popular romances and was successful enough to support her family on the proceeds of her writing alone, although her work was often disparaged by critics and criticized for being too sexual.

— Cassian is loosely based on Robert Graves, a captain in the 3rd Battalion of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, a poet, and the author of Goodbye to All That, a 1929 memoir about his experiences in WWI. Nesta is loosely based on Vera Brittain, a VAD nurse and author of Testament of Youth, a 1933 memoir about her experiences as a nurse and her postwar turn toward pacifism.

— Both Robert Graves and Vera Britten were connected to Somerville College, although they were not there at the same time. Somerville was founded as a women’s college in 1879; it was requisitioned by the War Office to serve as a hospital during WWI. Vera Brittain had been reading English Literature when the war broke out, and she took a leave of absence to serve in the VAD, returning to complete her studies in History in 1919. Robert Graves, after being injured in July during the Battle of the Somme (July 1, 1916—November 18, 1916) was sent to Somerville to recover, and while there, had a brief romance with one of the nurses.

— The tensions between the VAD (Voluntary Aid Detachment) and professional nurses was a real concern during WWI, although it has been dramatized here. Most of the volunteers were middle and upper class women and lacked both the skills of professional nurses and (for some) the propensity for hard labor and discipline. These tensions gradually dissipated as the war went on.

— “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit-Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile” was a popular WWI marching song, first published in 1915. The words were written by George Henry Powell and were set to music by his brother, Felix.

— The notice “Officers are requested not to throw custard at the walls” was real; it was found in Maitland Hall after Somerville was converted back into a college.

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #acotargiftexchange2023 #acotar gift exchange 2023 #nesta archeron #cassian #historical au #wwi au

54 notes · View notes

june-doe-event · 1 year

Text

Hello !! Welcome to the June Doe Ride The Cyclone event !!

This is a 30 Day Art (of any sorts !!) event that runs throughout June, however I will rb any posts with the prompts until mid July.

(Rules, Prompt List, & such are under the cut.)

Rules:

1. Absolutely no NSFW of ANY kind, the rtc kids are, in fact, kids.

2. Please tag this account in any posts (on here) that you make w the prompts !! I wanna see them !! :D

3. I'll rb posts made with the prompts from after June up until July, but after that I'm done w this acc for the year shsh

(Not a rule but just something that should be known, I have quite a few tags blocked so I might not see some posts, but I will try my best to rb all of them. If I don't see your content, send it to me in an ask !!)

This event accepts any forms of art, from drawings, to writing, to gifs, to edits, etc etc !! Be creative !!

Prompt List:

June 1st — Pride Month / Identities

Centered around any queer hcs with the choir !! Can range from coming out scenes 2 them going to pride, list is endless :)

June 2nd — Pre-Canon / Post-Canon

The choirs childhoods, right before the accident, what you think happens after the show, again, the list is endless !!

June 3rd — Favorite Platonic Relationship(s)

Maybe they're familial, or maybe they're just best friends !! Just, no romance :)

June 4th — Favorite Romantic Relationship(s)

Your favorite ship(s) !!

June 5th — Ricky's Birthday

Happy Birthday Ricky Potts !! Celebrate their birthday in whatever way you please !!

June 6th — Swapped Roles

Maybe Ocean is the most romantic girl in town, maybe Noel is the angriest girl in town !! Aka, the choir swaps titles & sorta personalities

June 7th — Legoland

The first play in the Uranium Teen Scream Trilogy !! Legoland content is ofc welcomed (& encouraged !!) for all of the prompts, but this is Legoland specific (if you don't have the script pdf & you'd like to read it, you can dm me either on this acc or on my main !!)

June 8th — Alternate Jane Doe

(Or John !!) Maybe Oceans parents never identified her, or maybe Noel was mangled beyond recognition !! Either way, someone else is left doll-like and confused.

June 9th — Someone Else Goes Back

Maybe Ocean votes Constance, or maybe the vote was unanimous like originally promised! Jane stays, someone else leaves.

June 10th — Mega Mall

The one(1) thing to do in Uranium. And Noel's personal hell.

June 11th — U-Pop

Ocean & Constance's (scripted) improv duo !! Sound off !!

June 12th — The Fair

What'd the choir get up to before the crash ? What were they doing ? What rides did they go on ? What'd they eat ?

June 13th — Uranium City

The Pride And Joy of Sweet Saskatchewan !! (<- literally a nightmare) !!

Or, something about the town itself !! It's history !!

June 14th — The Accident.

How'd they die ? What happened ? How did people react to it ? Who witnessed it ?

(If your content for this is gorey, please tag it appropriately.)

June 15th — Everybody Lives / Nobody Dies

Maybe they never rode the Cyclone in the first place, maybe they did but they survived, either way, everyone is fine !! (Or are they?)

June 16th — Religion

Ocean has three of them !! Something surrounding faith of some kind — or lack thereof !!

Alternative June 16th Prompt because I know some people may find the topic uncomfortable — Animals !!

Ricky's fourteen cats !! Penny & her love of animals !! Anything !!

June 17th — The Blackwood Cafe

The best (and probably only) cafe in Uranium !! Constance's family cafe, their pride and joy :)

June 18th — Cut Characters

Cut Character Submissions are welcome here no matter what, but this is specifically dedicated to them !! What was their reaction to the accident ? How did they die ? What was their backstory ?

June 19th — Zolar

The Fantasia Of Ricky Potts !! Anything to do with the world inside their head :)

June 20th — Songfic / Lyrics

Something surrounding a song you associate with the choir (or a certain member) !!

(Disclaimer this works for any type of art I just called it a songfic in the prompts list because it's. Easier ykyk)

June 21st — Summer

Happy Summer Solstice !! Anything 2 do with the current season :)

June 22nd — Graduation

What if they didn't die before they could graduate? How does that go?

June 23rd — Choir Event

Maybe it's last years Kiwanis, maybe it's a separate event !! Either way, they're performing again !!

June 24th — Production Specific

Instead of just general RTC, this prompt centers around a certain production !! (Be creative with it !! Use smaller ones !!)

June 25th — One Off Lines

Like how Ricky said in the 2016 previews that his mom read him the Little Prince TWENTY THREE TIMES (it was weird, he likes it), or how Ocean says that Constance 'has been a loose cannon since kindergarten' in the 2015 ver !! Anything surrounding stuff that they don't expand on.

June 26th — Jane's Dolly

How'd she find it? What if she had a different type of dolly? Just surrounding our favorite doll girl & her dolly :)

June 27th — Talia

Miss Talia Muruska Bolinska !! Is she real? How does she find out about the accident? How'd she meet Mischa? What was her life like?

June 28th — Families

The choirs' parents, them as a found family, the list goes on !! Just anything surrounding family :)

June 29th — Funerals

Because, these kids are dead, they have to have a memorial service of some sort !!

June 30th — Free Day

And, for our final day ( :( ) , we have a free day !! Do whatever you'd like !! :D

That's everything !! Feel free to send me asks with any questions you have !! :D

— Your moderator, @undescribed1mage :D

#bam !!#i really hope this does well shsh #ride the cyclone #rtc #legoland #legoland jacob richmond #legoland richmond #legoland play #st cassians chamber choir #ocean oconnell rosenberg #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #ricky potts #constance blackwood #jane doe #penny lamb

181 notes · View notes