#though his own negative feelings would still be tangled up in there. and this would parallel kh3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

redheadspark · 5 months

Note

Hi hi! I love your writing!! For the December prompts can I do Druig with 8 & 13 ?

A/N - I love this for Druig! Thanks for requesting this, anon!

Brave

Summary - Druig thinks of himself as a coward. His wife thinks otherwise

Warnings - angst with fluff at the end

Amazon

1600’s

The otherwise of the bed was cold, which made you worry as you woke up from your slumber.

Usually, you would have a warm body next to you, more than warm since he would run hot when he would sleep out there in your little shack. It didn’t help when it was humid, even in the winter season the air would be sticky in the dead of night. But his side of the bed was in fact cold, you could only feel the bunched sheets.

He was also a clinger when he slept, always wanting you within arms ready with either tangled legs or his arms around your waist. You never minded it, not really since you two were an item for the last 600 years or so, long before you both came to the Amazon 50 years ago. Leaving your Eternal family and only having each other to lean on for support. Although you missed them all and their company after being together for centuries on Earth, you would never trade your choice in walking away with Druig.

You two were building a life together.

You blinked slowly to rub your eyes, seeing the otherwise of your bed empty and abandoned. It wasn’t like Druig to leave your bed in the middle of the night unless he would wake to tell you. But your heard the front door crack, making you look and see that it was opened slightly and the moonlight was shining in. The cooler breeze was filling in the room, along with the softer sounds of the nocturnal animals echoing from the high trees. You slipped out of bed, threw on your robe that was a gift to you from one of the elders in the tiny village, and tip-toed along the wooden floor.

Poking your head out of the cracked open door, you saw the very person you were looking over, leaning against the pillar of the shack and looking up at the moon with a haunted look on his face. You quickly grabbed his blue robe that was hanging up on a singular nail on the wall, sliding out onto the porch where he was to silently sit next to him.

“Put this on before you catch a cold,” You hummed to him, placing the robe along his shoulders to watch him carefully slip his arms through. You grinned slightly, though you leaned your shoulder against his. Passing a kiss on his shoulder, you spoke again, “What’s on your mind, honey,”

He said nothing for a moment or two, you knowing well to not press him when he was in deep thought. Druig was never one to hide things from you that haunted his mind, he was very open with you and never wished to withdraw anything from you. But you could see it in his eyes and how he seemed….lost.

“Did I make the right choice?”

You looked at him with a hot of worry as he asked that, his voice sounding a bit raw and uneasy as his eyes were still trained on the moon. You rubbed his arm with your fingers, feeling him lean back against you a bit more. This was the last thing you thought he would ask, since up until this point he was more than fine with being out in the village.

“What do you mean?” You asked him gently.

“Coming out here, leaving the family,” he replied, you hearing him call the others “family” for the first time. You knew he admired them and never wished any ill wishes towards them. He would be aloof with them of course, but nothing negative. He missed them every once in a while when you two went off on your own, joking around with Kingo or talking about her inventions with Phastos. Even with Ajak, the leader who would always have to answer to Arishem, Druig missed her pearls of wisdom and warmth.

“You did what you had to do,” you reminded him with a calm tone, “That was the worst night of your life, Druig. You had to watch what happened to those humans and you made a new path because of it—“

“Because I couldn’t simply stop them,” Druig muttered.

“Druig..” You said his name as he huffed and blinked a few times, you finally noticed that he was silent crying.

“I had a nightmare,” He explained, his voice now sounding a bit raw, “That night out there and seeing those humans kill each other. I could hear them crying out for help…..but I just stood there and did nothing…..like a coward.”

“Hey!” You huffed, reaching over to frame his face in your hands to get his attention. His blue eyes were brightened in tears, and his cheeks and skin were flushed, this was now the same Druig knew that was filled with life and hope. You saw him thrive there in that village building new homes for the growing families and new crops on the small farm. He loved what he was doing, he looked so happy and filled with joy in helping the small cluster of humans thrive and survive.

To hear himself call himself a coward though…

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” You scolded him, seeing him blink at you as you stared at him hard, “You are not a coward, not even close! Don’t ever call yourself that ever again, you hear me?”

He said nothing, but you knew he was drinking it all in as he laced your spare hand in his own and you gave him a small smile.

“Druig, you are one of the bravest beings I know. You’re brave for knowing what is right and saying it, not holding it in. If anything, that is uncowardly. I have always loved how brave you were and wishing to do the right thing and never holding back with your words, it was one of the reasons I fell in love with you,”

Druig smiled, small but softly as you traced some of the tears away with your fingers.

“You should have told me you were feeling this way,” You advised him, but he shrugged and bit his lower lip.

“I thought I could handle it on my own,” he tried to explain, but you huffed.

“Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own? You stubborn ass,” you said, Druig snorted and finally chuckled for the first time that night as you giggled. You were glad to break off that mood he was in, Druig wrapping you in his arms to hug you as you let him. Druig would never be one to ask for him in any way, which bothered you since you knew it would be too much for him at the time. Something like this though, worried you that he was having these nightmares over time and keeping it to himself just to protect you. Then again, you knew deep down old ghosts and demons would haunt anyone.

Even the mind controller himself.

“All is well, Druig,” You said against his head as you kissed his ear, “Don’t think you can do this alone, not with me. Lean on me when it gets heavy, please,”

“Anything for you, my love,” he replied as he pecked your lips.

“Good, now come to bed with me. I miss you in my arms,” you replied, getting up and taking Druig by the hand. He laughed, following you willingly as you two finally left the porch to go back into the little home that you made together. Nightmares will come and go, but they won’t last forever.

Not like the love you had for Druig.

The End

#druig x reader #druig x female reader #druig x eternal!reader #druig x y/n #eternals #marvels eternals #druig imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #marvel cinematic universe fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #mcu phase 4

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cannebady · 1 year

Text

But imagine established steddyhands. They've not been together long enough for it to be anything close to routine, but long enough that they know the lay of the land they're traversing.

Ed and Izzy have always been more to each other, though they'll both admit (Ed more willingly than Izzy, of course) that they've only come to understand it and voice it recently.

Ed and Stede, once they worked through their respective abandonment and abandoning issues, fell right back into an easy, passionate connection that has them both feeling young and reckless and alive.

Izzy and Stede, though, well-

That's a more difficult story. While Ed would argue that they both were more to each other from the beginning (Izzy rarely took an interest, positive or negative, in anyone outside of Ed and the crew and Stede was consummately polite to everyone save for Izzy and Ed always found it interesting), and Stede and Izzy disagree out of what Ed approximates is sheer stubbornness alone. They spent the first few months of Them, all together, saying they were there for Ed and comfortable sharing and Ed had to sit there and watch them throw furtive glances at each other, sometimes over Ed's actual fucking body, until they finally gave in and started reaching out for the other. Stopped trying to touch each other through Ed. Not that Ed minded the attention, though.

It took another month for them to kiss. Another three for them to be intimate without Ed.

But after that they started to fall into their own rhythms and Ed felt happiness on a scale he'd never imagined he could. He woke up tangled with his two favorite people and he got heaping loads of love and devotion thrown at him daily and fuck if it wasn't a dream come true. And now that Stede and Izzy were also realizing what they could be to each other, Ed's lucky enough to watch the two loves of his life fall a little in love with each other too.

Once they'd defined their whole, Thing, Izzy had become much more tactile with Ed. Openly seeking and providing cuddles, tucking Ed's hair behind an ear, and, implementing his morning ritual of dropping a kiss onto Ed's forehead before heading up on deck. Each morning, Izzy woke with the dawn, Ed following a short time later, and Stede resolutely refusing to wake up until he had no choice to. So when Izzy finished dressing he'd drop a kiss to Ed's forehead and that was the official start to the day. It had been that way for months and Ed came to look forward to it.

He also couldn't help to notice that he never did the same to Stede. Ed pushed it from his mind for the most part. A key strategy for loving the two most stubborn and downright bitchy men on the high seas was to know when to push and when to retreat. They seemed to be figuring it out, so Ed let it go. Well, maybe not let it go, but at least didn't bring it up.

Then there was a storm. Fun and loud and the type of thing Ed used to love. Now, he loves people and that's a far more dangerous game. Stede has learned to sail enough to be helpful, and as Co-Captain of the vessel resolutely refused to stay below deck. Ed was equal parts nervous and proud, but ultimately trusted Stede to know his limits. Izzy, though, seemed anxious and, Ed noticed, almost always had an eye turned toward Stede as the storm truly set in and the chaos started. As the rain and wind pelted against the hull and soaked the ship tip to stern, Izzy's laser focus turned to a look of horror and Ed almost missed it, focused as he was on the color draining from Izzy's face.

A strike of lightning illuminates the sky and there's a deafening crack and one of the lines breaks, looping the rope Stede is lashed too and sending both over the side of the ship.

Ed screams, but he barely hears it over the violence of the storm and his own pounding heart. He turns to Izzy to bark an order only to find Izzy stripping out of his vest and climbing over the side to grab Stede's rope and start hauling him up.

Ed sees Stede break the surface. He's still attached, thank something, but he's limp as Izzy, and a few of the crew, bring him back aboard and Ed's happy world starts to shatter around the edges. All he can think, desperately, is no.

Izzy's a flurry of movement as he tries to sit Stede up and get him to wake up, and Ed's crying so hard he can feel the tears even with the rain pouring down, and the crew is looking on, horrified, and Ed's about ready to fall to actual pieces when Stede's eyes open and he coughs up a worrisome amount of water. As soon as the worst of it passes, he looks over at Ed, smiles a little, then turns to Izzy and reaches a shaky hand up to his cheek before turning his head and coughing more water up onto the deck.

Ed remembers that he has arms, and legs, and a voice, and thirty years of experience sailing through storms, and gets the crew back to work getting them through this. Then he and Izzy get Stede back to their quarters, warm him up and put him in dry clothes before doing the same for each other and getting situated in bed. They'll address the damage, physical and emotional, tomorrow. Tonight is for rest and for Ed to cling to them both like a limpet.

He doesn't sleep a wink. Stede is out quickly, followed by Izzy, both exhausted he's sure, and Ed just stays up staring at Izzy, the fucking hero of the day and Stede, his love that he almost lost. He decides not to look away and if he sneakily checks a pulse here and there, or stokes blonde or salt and pepper locks occasionally, no one needs to know.

When Izzy wakes, early with the sun as always, he does something a little different. Before getting out of bed he kisses Ed twice, then takes a deep breath and brushes Stede's golden curls from his forehead. There's a complicated expression on his face, and it's raw and gorgeous but Ed doesn't want to ruin the moment so he keeps the thought to himself. Izzy drags his hand down Stede's cheek, gentle as can be, and leans forward to press a long, firm kiss right on his cheekbone.

Stede's eyes open but he says nothing. Just looks at Izzy for a long time before he turns his head and kisses Izzy's palm, soft and reverent. Izzy's eyes are bright when he pulls away, but he turns around quickly, resolute to begin the day, and Ed curls himself back around Stede knowing he won't be leaving his side today and basking in the overwhelming warmth of what he just saw.

Stede falls back to sleep quickly, especially with Ed's fingers running through his hair, but there's a soft smile on his face that Ed can't wait to see more of. He's also very interested for Izzy to see it and to know he put it there.

There's more love here, he thinks, than any of them thought possible and for once, he's very, very glad to have been wrong.

#ofmd #our flag means death #stede bonnet #my fic #edward teach #izzy hands #blackbeard #ofmd fic #steddyhands #stede x ed x izzy #Stizzy #Blackhands #gentlebeard #blackbonnet

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paraliveimaginesblog · 6 months

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for the flower prompts, daisies for kenta?

Kenta Mikoshiba:

Daisies - a game of ‘they love me, they love me not’.

“I’m not some fuckin’ kid, I don’t give a shit if they like me or not.”

“You look angry for someone who doesn’t care.” Shion’s airy reply, along with the smirk on his face, only further infuriated the angsty teen. Where the hell could he even get flowers anyway? And what would he even do with the petals after? Pick them up like a loser with nothing better to do? He wasn’t a goddamn janitor!

Kenta considered adding another hole to the wall but decided their shitty little shack of a home would probably crumble if he did. Instead, he hold himself up with technology as best he could, putting invisible blinders so the others wouldn’t bother him. The others knew the drill though Yuto still tempted fate by sticking his hand into the cage of a starved dog when he asked Kenta to eat dinner with the rest of them.

He just needed something basic to take his mind off of it, off of you, and he began to search through his extensive game library until his eyes landed on a simple game that came free with a quick internet search. You press a button, a set of numbers appears, and then you keep pressing until you hit a mine and it was game over. He almost dismissed it but he thought, for a second, that this could be his own way to play ‘they love me, they love me not’. No stupid flowers, no mess to clean up, just him and this game that he could easily close the window of if it became too much.

The concept was easy, if he hit a mine that meant you didn’t love him, and that you’d only implode his entire life as he knows it. He doesn’t pay attention to any of the indicators that help lead him through the game, pressing with reckless abandon, almost demanding fate give him a negative response in hopes of discouraging his pursuit of this foreign feeling. Yet fate was not one to be tampered with, almost taking it like a personal challenge to beat Kenta at his own game.

Kenta wins once, and he doesn’t think anything of it. Clearly his natural gaming skills are coming into play here so it’s obvious that even when he wasn’t paying attention he’d win. So he looked away from the screen, tapping randomly, holding his breath as he finally looked back at it and saw no mines had been hit. Once again paying attention, he wins again, then again, and he’s finally at the point where he’s going to lose it.

“AAAAAAAGH!”

He threw the phone, technical contraband, in a fit of rage, glaring as it cracked against the wall and shattered into pieces. He really hadn’t been paying attention to anything happening around him which meant time had passed much quicker than he realized, the lights in the room off because the others had gone to bed. When they flick back on is when he realized, temporarily blinded by the sudden all encompassing light and shielding his eyes from it while they adjusted.

“…I’m assuming there’s a reason you did that,” Shion hissed out, looking rather irritated from beneath a tangled nest of white hair.

“W-w-what’s going on?!” Yuto burst into the room in a panic, looking more stressed than usual. “Is everyone alright?!”

And Ryoga continued to snore, none the wiser to Kenta’s inner turmoil over officially being stamped as 'loved'.

#Paradox Live #Paralive #Paradox Live Imagines #Paralive Imagines #Paradox Live x Reader #Paralive x Reader #Kenta Mikoshiba #Mikoshiba Kenta #Kenta Mikoshiba x Reader #Scenario #Flower Meme

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flightfoot · 9 months

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Chat in the movie was sassier and could be annoying but consider…

1. The movie makes a point that Adrien tries to close off his heart to people. He lost his mother at a much younger age than Show Adrien who only lost her less than a year before the series starts. So he’s had more time to become a bit prickly and put up walls. Show Adrien is still desperately trying to hold onto his positivity. But Movie Adrien is more Jaded. He’s an independent catboy who don’t need no watermelon cramping his style. I think that’s why it’s easier for him to yell at his father later on too. Movie Adrien has been dealing with the broken home crap for much longer.

2. Movie Adrichat is a bit more in line with Season 1 Adrichat. He’s more likely to express negativity even if it’s just with a facial expression. Chat Noir in season 1 is more of a sassmaster. He doesn’t go as far as movie chat, but he gets some barbs in and has more bravado. He tells Theo that he’s in charge between the two heroes in Copycat and makes muscles at Marinette in Illustrator. He pushes back against Ladybug more and tells her on more than one occasion that she’s not funny when she sasses him with a joke. When Ladybug calls about his Lourve heist asking what’s going on, he tells her if she’d been there she would know, said he was handling it himself and hung up. He pokes fun at her lucky charms multiple times. He’s salty with Plagg and makes sarcastic little comments about his dad and is generally allowed more teenagery moments that aren’t necessarily the most gentlemanly but sympathetic considering his situation. Like remember when Ladybug exposed Lila’s lie about her and the first thing he says to Ladybug in French is something like “are you insane?!” before he caught himself? 😆

I liked movie Chat because he reminded me more of Season 1 (and maybe 2?) Adrien? As Adrichat progressed in the series he lacked more personality to me. He definitely lacked some of his season 1 attitude. By Season 5, he felt really wooden to me a lot of the time. Like he still has moments of negative emotion, but there was something more dynamic about his character at first. Adrichat in Season 5 is either angry enough to kill over Marinette or sad with his tail between his legs. He used to express himself more as Chat just day to day for all sorts of reasons. He used to have a bit more edge. Doesn’t mean I want him to be an edge lord. He’s always been sweet and self depreciating too but I miss his sassier moments.

All of that to say, Movie Chat reminded me of him and lately he feels a little neutered. Though Season 1 Chat is the main Chat for me, I think I prefer Movie AdriChat to Season 5 AdriChat at this point.

True, Movie!Adrien's dealing with different things. Movie!Gabriel is a way better person and parent than Show!Gabriel, having lost himself in grief but not trying to actually hurt Adrien, merely retreating... but that's also left Adrien without a parent for a lot longer. Based on the pictures we see, I'm betting it's been around five years. He's definitely more withdrawn, he says something about that in the movie, and him wearing earbuds all the time seems to be a way of symbolizing how he's closing himself off from the outside world, like how Neku uses his headphones in TWEWY. I like how you point out that he's making himself into an independent catboy who acts like he doesn't actually need other people, like he's enough on his own - that does help to explain why he's not reaching out to Ladybug as much, why he makes himself out to be a big shot more than in canon. He's been basically alone for a long time now, so he can only really depend on himself.

2. Yeah Movie!Adrien does remind me of S1!Adrien with his expression of negativity and sass. I thought that it worked better in the show than the movie though. In the show it usually seemed to me to be bravado, his imitation of a swashbuckling hero similar to Eugene's "Flynn Rider" impression in Tangled, while in the movie, I thought he came off as a little mean to Ladybug at times, especially since he didn't have as much gentle support going on as we do in the show, whenever Ladybug's struggling.

#ask #ml analysis #ml spoilers #ml awakening #adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug

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thehollowwriter · 1 month

Text

Warnings: None

Key: Regular text is for the present, italics is for flashbacks, bold is for journal entries

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Lamentations Pt 4

Silas sighed. He pressed his pointer fingers together, then pressed them against his lips. He peered at his last entry. Those last words.

Pretty. Clever. Sharp.

That's what Morrigan called him, and he still remembered the emotions that flooded him when he processed the words.

Shock. Confusion. Flusteredness.

He was pretty sure Morrigan was messing with him at first, but that wasn't really Morrigan's idea of funny.

He had felt so restless that night, tossing and turning and scratching nervously at the wall, trying to find some purpose, some rhyme or reason for those words.

He thought of those gleaming, mischevious eyes and that wide toothy smirk, and his heart nearly lost all semblance of control.

Silas sighed and moved his hands to grasp his pen once again, just as he had done before.

Well, at least this bit would be easy to write.

Our encounters changed after that night. Not in a negative way, no, not atball. Though I will admit the atmosphere was tense when Morrigan came in the following week. I think he thought I was going to chase him off for what he said. But no, I did no such thing. The opposite, really.

Our relationship entered an odd limbo of flirting with each other and not much else after that. There were lingering touches, long-lasting (and I will admit, sultry) glances, flirting, his tailfin would curl around mine and I would let it, and of course, far more "fights" than usual.

When he requested that I teach him how to hunt, this seemed to worsen in a way. He would watch me with bright, burning eyes, hanging on to every word I spoke as if it were gospel.

I would watch him in turn, entranced by the sheer skill and ferocity in his movements as he copied my instructions . Too many times would a hunt turn on it's head and we would end up "fighting."

It's funny, really. To an outsider, it would seem like we were trying to kill each other. But we knew better. It was a dance. A waltz. A sign of trust proven by throats left unbitten and bellies left unslashed.

Morrigan was absolutely capable of killing me. It wouldn't be easy, and I would be able to cast something to get him away, but it was a possibility.

My magic was technically stronger, but his was far more refined, and his arsenal of spells was like no other. I was more patient and calculating, he was far more vicious and had an absolutely fascinating ability to simply force himself through whatever injury he was suffering from and keep going.

My malnourishment left me vulnerable, easy to break. And yet... he didn't. He was so careful. So practised. There were a few moments when we tangled with each other, where he would pause and glance down as if he feared he had broken me. Of course, I always took the opportunity to take victory over him, but I appreciated the sentiment.

Thinking back on these moments always brings me to those times where the fight was briefly forgotten, and we would simply gaze at each other in silence.

It's so easy to get lost in Morrigan's eyes. Brilliant, beautiful pools of turquoise like that of shallow tropical waters.

There was always so much in Morrigan's eyes. So many emotions and thoughts. So much knowledge. So much... adoration.

And then, the spell would break, and we would either go back upside or continue until we tired or one of us won.

My grandfather always teased me, muttering things like "Ah, young love" and reminiscing about when he met his own husband, and sometimes even teasing Morrigan.

However, I remember the day he got serious with me, staring into my soul with bright amethyst eyes that had witnessed things I could never begin to conceive.

"Silas."

"Yes, grandfather?"

"Sit down."

Silas sat down, suddenly feeling a lot less like a 33 year old business owner and more like a child about to get scolded.

"Silas," His grandfather spoke slowly, carefully, as if this were the most important conversation they would ever have. "I want you to think very carefully about your feelings for Morrigan. You're an adult, and you can make your own decisions, but I must advise that you decide where you want this... thing with him to go. He's clearly head over tailfin for you, and the two of you have been going in circles for months. You can't keep that up forever."

Silas opened his mouth to protest the very idea of having feelings for Morrigan or vise verse, then closed it again. He leaned back and blinked, taking a moment to think.

Morrigan. How could he ever describe how he felt about Morrigan?

A million different feelings and emotions flooded him at once when he was around Morrigan. Excitement, joy, amusement, thrills, admiration-

Love? Could that be what this was? He wasn't sure. He didn't know what romantic love felt like, not really. He attempted a date or two in the past, but while it didn't end 'badly', he never felt anything.

What could he say? They were nice, but they weren't Morrigan. They didn't make his adrenaline spike like Morrigan. They didn't snap back at his remarks like Morrigan. They didn't make him laugh with stupid jokes and puns like Morrigan. They weren't clever like Morrigan. They were not unafraid to fight him like Morrigan. They did not allow his teeth near their throat with such absolute trust like Morrigan.

...They didn't speak of the children in their life (at least those who had or interacted with children), the one's who's future was in their hands, with such care and love like Morrigan. They were not as odd, nor as ruthless and delightfullypowerful as Morrigan.

He could go on forever. It was quite simple, really. They were just not Morrigan.

Silas gazed at his grandfather and nodded his head.

"Yes, grandfather. I will."

I was quite absent-minded the next few days. Morrigan occupied my thoughts whenever possible, slithering into the cracks and crevices of my mind like a mischevious moray eel.

Yes, I was quite sure what I was feeling was some sort of romantic attraction. Morrigan made my heart pound, my blood rush, and my fins flare like something out of a cliché romance novel.

I eventually came to the decision that I wanted to give Morrigan a courting gift. Now, this was no lighthearted whim. Even in the Abyss, courting gifts were treated with utmost importance. In fact, damaging or breaking them was considered bad luck, especially if you were neither the giving nor receiving party.

I spent ages pondering what to make for Morrigan. I didn't bother worrying if teeth or bones would scare him off. He stuck with me that long and flirted with me on the regular. If something as simple as teeth bothered him, he would have been gone years ago.

The question at hand was what teeth to get him. The tradition of courting gifts went back hundreds of years, and it used to be common to kill a particularly dangerous, feared, or difficult to kill animal or person and present whoever you're interested in with some remnant of the carcass.

Usually, it was jewellery. The most common was a simple necklace of teeth. It shows your potential partner that you're capable of protecting them. If they reciprocate, they do so by making a courting gift to give to you in return.

It's still in practice today, but pretty things like seashells are becoming more popular over teeth and bones.

I had so many different possible creatures, even people, to choose from that I just couldn't decide. Barracuda? Moray eel? Swordfish?

I was so distracted with this that I almost completely missed Morrigan's arrival with a single yellowfin tuna in hand and a smug grin on his face

He had gotten so good at hunting under my guidance, but stealth was where he truly excelled.

"You..." Sillas' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the tuna. His tuna. "I-"

"You're awfully distracted today, Silas," said Morrigan with a toothy grin. "Don't even notice me come in. What's going on in that mysterious mind of yours?"

Silas huffed. "I'm tired. But still, well done. I didn't even suspect you had arrived."

He was met with a smaller, more genuine smile. "Well, I did learn from the best."

Silas sent a half smile back, trying to act like his cheeks weren't warming up. "Hmm, true. What will it be today?"

"One yellowfin tuna," Morrigan began, holding the tuna up higher with that grin of his stretched across his face. He had such a stupid grin. Silas loved it. "four mackerel and and one octopus."

"A whole octopus?"

"Yeah."

Silas raised an eyebrow and went to package Morrigan's order, pondering whether or not he should make a remark about how Morrigan never ordered his "specials."

"That's new. What's the occasion?"

"My ma's birthday. She loves octopus."

"First time she's sent you to buy that from me."

Morrigan shrugged. "She doesn't want to get it her usual way anymore. A pair of octopus mers, mother and daughter, recently moved into the city. Ma says it would be disrespectful."

Silas furrowed his brows, then blinked at Morrigan. "What-"

"Yeah, I don't get it either. Apparently, one of the octopus mers is starting up a restaurant. You may have a customer. Mom told her about you."

"She did?" Silas questioned, surprised. He made an effort to ignore the pun. "I didn't expect-"

"Me neither." Said Morrigan. "She said all sorts of lovely things, a list of recommendations and compliments a mile long. She's usually so... unpleasant about you. Sorry. She thinks you're a-"

"Bad influence?" Silas finished, handing Morrigan his order. He knew the words quite well at this point. "Mm, I'm not surprised. I did turn you into a stone cold hunter with a taste for blood, after all. And I tried to kill you."

Morrigan's grin twisted into a smirk. "And I'm all the better for it. I'll happily do it all over again. Especially if it's to see you every week."

As he spoke, he shuffled about with his satchel and placed a pouch on the counter. It was created from seaweed and coral, like most things in the sea were, although it was larger than purses usually were.

"I've gotta go. I cannot be late today. See you next week Si!"

"Morrigan-" Silas began, but Morrigan was already gone. He sighed and picked up the pouch, muttering about keeping the change, and opened it to count the madol inside.

"Really, Morrigan, forgetting y-"

Whatever quip about to come out of Silas' mouth died on his tongue. His mouth went dry, and his heart began to pound as he peered at what lay inside the pouch.

Slowly, he reached inside the pouch and pulled the object of his shock free.

A necklace. A necklace of teeth, of orca teeth, strung on a carefully crafted string of seaweed and magic. A particularly spiney murex shell was the centrepiece of the whole ordeal.

Silas swallowed, his heart pounding so fast it nearly jumped out of hus throat. Quickly, he rifled through the pouch. There was the payment for the mackerel and octopus, and nothing else. No note. There was no need for one.

The message was loud and clear.

Trembling, Silas traced the large, sharp teeth and clutched the necklace to his chest.

A courting gift. Morrigan had given him a courting gift.

A flurry of emotions suddenly exploded inside Silas and he hastily swam to the second floor of the building, bursting into the kitchenette and scaring his grandfather into dropping his newspaper.

"Sea Witch, Silas, someone better be dying." The old shark gasped.

"No- No- Grandfather, Morrigan- he-" Silas gave up on words and carefully held up the necklace. "Look."

His grandfather's eyes widened, and then the surpised expression was replaced with a smile.

"Well now, it looks like he beat you to it. You plan to present him with one as well? ...If that is what you want?"

The question went unanswered for a while. Silas gazed at the necklace, then pulled his hair away from his neck and slid the necklace over his head.

"Yes," He murmured, thumbing at a particularly large tooth. "More than anything."

The thought of being with Morrigan, the thought of wearing his courting gift while he wore mine, filled me with a sense of what I can only describe as giddiness.

I knew what to get him then. Whatever I previously had in mind was dwarfed by the fact that Morriganbhad managed to pull the teeth of an orca, the oceans' top predator, whether by killing it, seriously wounding it or some other method.

How was I going to top that? It was simple, really. Find a bigger orca.

My grandfather found this incredibly amusing, of course, as he did with most things involving Morrigan and I.

"Always so competitive." He said to me. "Even when it comes to courting gifts."

He was right, of course, but competition was a constant between Morrigan and I. It is something that remained even after our friendship gave way to romance.

Besides, I was the better hunter.

With that in mind, I set off on my little journey to find an orca. Orcas do not scare me. They don't compare to the horrors down below, and I have eaten orca before.

The actual hunt of that orca when I found it is not too important. The important part to me is making the necklace.

It took a while for me to pull out the teeth I needed. I had to be precise and careful so I didn't damage them irbger them stuck. Then, after dropping them off at home, I swam to the very edge of the city of Atlanta.

It was the closest I had ever been to the city. Perfect, sparkling, and bright, fitted amongst a beautiful coral reef where the sunlight could reach. It hurt my eyes and made me nervous.

Nonetheless, I got what I wanted. A volute shell. A fairly large, very pretty volute shell. I may not understand the logic of presenting pearls and shells to your partner, as they prove nothing about your abilities, but it was a part of Morrigan's culture and I wanted to include it alongside the teeth.

I returned home quickly and, using a combination of seaweed, rope, and magic, began putting the necklace together. Small bone knives and some more magic helped me pierce the holes I needed, and then I laced the rope through the teeth and shells.

It took a very long time and was a frustrating process, but I was very particular about how I wanted it to look and refused to settle for second best.

I was quite proud of myself when I finished. I knew how to craft bags, pouches, traps, and weapons, but I never made jewellery. This necklace of teeth, with the volute shell functioning as a pendant, turned pit well. It looked beautiful.

When Morrigan came in next week, he was nervous. I know this because his stealth utterly failed, and I caught him before he could get a fin in the door.

We had our usual banter, although Morrigan was much more stiff than usual, then sold him his fish and carefully placed the necklace inside Morrigan's pouch alongside his change.

"I'll see you next week, Morrigan," Silas said softly, sending the mer a half smile.

Morrigan's earfins drooped, and a disappointed expression briefly flashed across his face.

"Uh- yeah. I'll see you next week, Si." He said. He began to drift out the door with none of his usual sassy comments, muttering to himself.

"Make sure you count your change, Morrigan," Silas called to him. "My math is off today."

"Yeah, okay." Morrigan called back dully. There was the sound of shuffling. Then, a pause. Then, a gasp of surprise and delight.

Morrigan shot back into the shop so fast he was a mere blur of dark green. He grasped Silas by the arms and nearly knocked him over, turquoise eyes as wide as saucers.

He was already wearing the necklace. It looked incredible on him.

"Y-You're serious?" He gasped out, disbelief all over his face.

Silas simply sent him a smile, and that said enough. Morrigan's fins fanned out in excitement, and he slid his hands down to Silas' hips.

"May I?"

Silas nodded.

Morrigan pulled Silas close and coiled his tail around Silas', carefully wrapping his arms around him.

"I'm so glad you said yes," He said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you weren't interested."

To his surprise, Silas huffed and leaned forward so their foreheads bumped together. "I'm afraid being uninterested in you is impossible.

Silas could feel Morrigan's heart speed up, though he didn't respond. He didn't need to. They simply stayed like that for a while, staring into each other's eyes, turquoise on amthyst.

After some time passed, Morrigan slowly moved his hand to cup Silas' cheek, the tips of his claws pressing harmlessly against the rough skin.

"I love you." He seemed to say, although no words were spoken. Silas put his own hand on top of Morrigan's and stroked it with his thumb. "I love you too."

Rough, scarred lips met soft, radiant ones in tandem.

...........................................

Guide: Start, Prev

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading all the fluff! I was smiling the whole time while writing, hehe (except when Tumblr deleted the whole thing >:()

Tagging: @distant-velleity @theleechyskrunkly @the-banana-0verlord @cynthinesia @cyanide-latte @boopshoops @whspermy-name @officialdaydreamer00 @elenauaurs

For reference, the murex shell looks like this:

And the volute shell looks like this:

#silas clearcove #morrigan clearcove #twisted wonderland #twst oc #oc x oc #writing

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love-toxin · 2 years

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Monsters viii. "You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you…" with a vampire Eddie? Who’s got fangs and wings and think he’s scary and a real freak now, and that you can’t love him anymore... 😣

🥺🥺🥺

viii. "You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you..."

(cws: vampire eddie, post-vol II, blood, smoking, burns, confessions, established friendship)

"It's me!" He had cried, flinching away from your panicked scream as you swung a hatchet at him, barely missing him by a hair. The pitch of his voice had shaken you then, stopped you in your tracks as you had reared up again, and....his heart cracked into pieces when that recognition flickered across your face. His name left your lips so softly, and had he not been listening, he wouldn't have heard it at all. "Yeah, it...it's me. It's Eddie, sweetheart."

You've been sitting in relative silence since then, poised on the back step of your house. Nobody's home and nobody's out at this time of night, and yet you perch there with a cigarette suffering between your lips, the poor thing draining fast as you try to suck some kind of release out of it. Some amount of nicotine that will calm your nerves enough to say something, to say anything.

"I...thought...you were dead." You mumble out into the silence.

"I was."

Your head swivels to look at him, finally, and yet he can't find the strength to look back at you yet. He's all too aware of how he must come off, his form already having proven to be a challenge too tough to swallow.

For one, his wings have sprouted--black and leathery, tipped with brutal claws, and showing veins as prominent as they would be on his skin if he had any blood left to run through them. His fangs are another problem, he's sure they're visible from where you're sitting because he's still getting used to having them in his mouth. He's paler. Colder. He can smell your sweat and your warm blood from where he's sitting.

And he wants a taste. Trying to keep it down. But it's so hard when you're right there.

"I was....dead...or as close to it, I guess, for a couple days. It was..."

Scary. It was so scary. He thought of you the whole time. Hoped you were still alive, hoped Steve and Nancy had managed to drag you out of that awful place--and secretly, he had hoped you hadn't forgotten about him. So seeing your first reaction to him like this, although he completely understands it, still stings whatever's left of his heart.

"....I was worried about you."

"Me?" You look back at him incredulously, the cigarette burning away in your hand. He just nods, but your reaction now sends a little shiver through him; your brow has softened, your features delicate, and you reach a hand out to close over his own. This time, you don't flinch, even though he's so cold compared to you. "Why?"

Why? It seems a simple answer, but it strangles itself into something tangled and confusing when it tries to leave his mouth. Something as simple as a silly crush should pale in comparison to facing his own death, but somehow, this is scarier. Eddie was always prepared to die--at some point, he expected it. But making his love for you a reality, accepting that his feelings are too big to keep hidden, trying for just a sliver of a chance that you might reciprocate the feelings he's had for you since freshman year.....that's the most terrifying image his mind can conjure up, demon bats and blood and dying in agony coming in second.

"Eddie?"

You push at his arm a bit, leaning in close to try and decipher that ponderous expression on his face--it isn't until you shuffle closer, and he feels your warmth closing in on him, that he lifts his head and meets your soft eyes with blood-red ones. You flinch back, but you come back to him, because you're...you're too sweet to say a negative word to him. But he knows. He scares you. He must.

"You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you..."

"Eddie-" As painful as it is, because he knows that otherwise he would relish in the feeling of your hand on his, he breaks your grip and moves as far away from you as he can on the step. He scrunches himself up as far as he can, making himself as small as he can manage despite his wings already being folded up behind his back. He draws his knees up to his chest, and wraps his arms around them to keep them tight, and even so he knows he's taking up too much space.

"...Did your date with that Sam kid ever work out? You were really excited about it. Have you got a boyfriend now? I-"

There's about a million more things he's got lined up in that still hyperactive brain, because he rambles when he doesn't know what else to do, when he's anxious and trying not to let you in to what he's really thinking, or what he really wants to say. Each word is a thin mask to throw over his true intentions, and he's not even really looking at you as he talks--that is, until a searing, yet momentary pain in his hand rips him out of his own head and punctuates the quiet air with a shriek. Looking down, you've dropped the flickering ember into the grass--you burned the back of his hand with your cigarette. The fire in your eyes rages harder and hotter, though, the frustration as clear as blood in water.

"I thought you were dead, Eddie," Your foot comes down hard on the smoldering cigarette in the grass, and your body follows by leaning on it as you stand up and off the step to tower over him. "You think I was thinking about some fucking blond in biology class?! I was mourning you!"

You shout, like you don't care about waking the neighbors at two am or even exposing Eddie's undead self to the townsfolk that pushed him towards his death.

"I don't think you're ugly," Your anger breaks with a sniffle, and this time his heart shatters that much harder as he watches your face contort as you try to hold back tears, and fail. "And I don't care if you're different now. I just wanted you back. I still do."

You might have collapsed into him where he sat, but Eddie's moving up to meet you, because he can't stop himself--you're so warm, you're blinding, and the moment his arms slip around you he feels the urge to sink his fangs as deep into your neck as it takes to draw blood. Such a violent urge terrifies him to his core, but it dulls quickly in the euphoria of touching you for the first time since then....since the day you hugged him goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time, and he regretted not telling you his feelings the second you turned to leave.

"I...I thought about how much I love you. I was worried you would never know. Every second..." He chokes, half on a sob and half a shiver of ecstasy at your body pressed up against his. "...I spent every second wishing I had kissed you, just once."

You shake your head while your face is still buried in his shoulder, before lifting it up to meet his gaze and watching as his eyes drop to your lips before they return to your own.

"Kiss me, then." Your voice crawls out, a whisper in the dark.

"I don't want to hurt you. I...I keep thinking about....your blood.." He answers, shaking gently like a leaf as he stands there, wishing he could just let his instincts win out and claim your lips right then and there. If he ever hurt you, especially in the way he is now, he would just want to throw himself off a bridge to atone for damaging such an angel.

"You can have it, Eddie." His attempt to turn away from you is futile, because you take your hand to his cheek and turn him back, fingers shifting to entangle themselves in his hair. And he soon realizes why--because it's the perfect grip for you to pull him in, and crush any more excuses with a kiss that feels as divine as heaven. No tongue or teeth or biting needs to be involved for him to get a shot of adrenaline straight to his rotted heart, his knees buckling to sink into the kiss like your touch is his lifeblood. And he knows, now. You are. "So long as you never leave me again."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie's angelface #vampire!eddie munson #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #ellie's halloween sentence starters

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beevean · 10 months

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Especially the justifications ranging from "Sonic is neurodivergent-coded" to "Sonic is canonically neurodivergent" in Prime grind my gears. I'm certain many of the same people are gushing about how awesome it is that Sonic Prime is CaNoN tO tHe GaMeS... as in, the games where Sonic:

knew that simply defeating and sealing away Chaos again would do NOTHING except make its hurt and anger only worse.

gave Blaze a kind and supportive pep talk, acknowledging what she had been through because of her pyrokinesis and duties as Sol Emerald Guardian and offering her his friendship with a reminder she can count on the people she's got to know during her adventure.

defeated Merlina but expressed sympathy with her hurt about her world ending while sharing his own philosophy of needing to live life to the fullest, without any call-outs about her attacking him earlier, boasts about defeating her, or scoldings about her negative view on it all.

Immediately came rushing back from Cannon's Core in the ARK even though he was seconds away from foiling the entirety of Eggman's plan with the fake Emerald because Eggman and Tails informed him Amy was in danger.

And those are only the examples I know for certain on the top of my head, without even touching upon everything that happens in games like Sonic Battle and Sonic Forces. It's not even that Prime!Sonic is particularly nasty or rude, he clearly adores his friends, but he can't read a room to save his life and he is legitimately just stupid. Which is clearly done because it can be used to write jokes, but he is stupid, in a way that a properly-written game!Sonic could not be even if he tried. And you mean to tell me the Sonic from the above examples is the occasionally-insensitive constantly-dumb hyperactive chatterbox that Prime presents him as? Please.

(I'm sorry, I figure you might have gotten tired of Prime discourse now, but in general the whole He's Totes Neurodivergent fandom perception annoy me, because they use that card to completely disregard any (in my opinion valid) counterarguments about any poor portrayal...)

Oh wait I forgot to add: the reason I came up with those examples is apparently because people think that Sonic (aka Prime!Sonic) has low empathy. Stolen from some probably-shady and possibly-unreliable site on the internet whose definition of empathy does otherwise seem to check out: "In general, empathy is the ability to understand or sense another person’s perspective, feelings, needs, or intentions, even when you don’t share the same circumstances. It can sometimes involve acting on that understanding, including offering help." And I ask, in what world does Sonic from the games lack empathy?????? He's literally the most empathic pep-talk-giving perspective-seeing help-providing understanding sweetheart on the entire planet with that definition!

I remember reading a post that proposed that Tails had high empathy and Sonic had low empathy, before Prime was a thing. And I had your identical "bruh???????" reaction. Sonic has low empathy? Literally where. Show me proof that any version of Sonic struggles to empathize with people. My man is actually pretty good at understanding others, as you accurately pointed out.

Anyway, I don't have ADHD and even I am getting annoyed at how it's been reduced to "hehe i'm soooooo silly and quirky and kiddy 🤪". If it's not Sonic, then it's characters like Tangle who has pretty much become a womanchild and fans defend her because she's "neurodivergent-coded".

Also, speaking of differences between Prime and Canon Sonic, while the latter was also relatively slow to the uptake to accept that he was not meeting his actual friends in Secret Rings and Black Knight, it was still not as ridiculous as the former, who apparently could not recognize that he was in the third different AU in a row and still was all "oh Tails am I glad to see you!".

And apparently Apple Metal was built to be like Sonic but way more obnoxious about it, which prompts Sonic to say "if I'm half as annoying as you I need to change". Which. *sigh*

and i'm pretty sure there was a boom character like that, but boom apparently sucks ass now while prime is the best western show ever. okay

#sonic the hedgehog #anti prime #you make great points anon and i wish i could elaborate more #but yeah ngl i'm getting too irked at this #not your fault but i feel that i can't talk further without actually watching the show for myself #which i do *not* want to do not even with a friend #so yeah my opinions are not worth much and i'm getting heated up over nothing #i'm this close to muting every sonic tag to take a break

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queenofsquids · 4 months

Text

Still crocheting away on the black thread project.

Plenty of time to ruminate over my latest doll fixation. I am going to make a Ghibli doll someday I swear it. I've been incubating random flop attempts for over ten years at this point. I'm GONNA seize the inspiration and DO IT ... someday lol

Who first 🧐 There are so many good ones. I'm particularly fond of Pazu, he just seems so steadfast and kind. Feeds birds. Has a good head on his shoulders.

And of course there's Kiki ... decisions decisions

Health talk below!!

Chest update, tumors have not changed size, still probably benign.

She needed to do a manual check up and was like wow I can tell you must be really sore I can feel how lumpy everything is. She thanked me for not flinching?? We did discuss already how sore I always am, but this is definitely the worst part of my cycle for that.

For the first time I really confided in this doctor how much more comfortable in my skin I'd be with NO chest. She was helpful to talk to but in her capacity she can't just do like, top surgery without pressing medical need. She explained what types of cosmetic surgery I could go to another doctor like a plastic surgeon for.

OR if I do this genetic test I've been putting off and it comes back 20% or more likelihood of breast cancer then they can perform a mastectomy. My half sister had breast cancer at my age, but somehow that only makes me at most a 17% risk according to their calculations. The world is so fucking bizarre sometimes.

She also said possibly severe anxiety over the possibility of cancer may be enough reason, though they would send me to a psychiatrist etc first. She said it like a negative but I took it like a "don't threaten me with a good time" cause damn I'd love a professional to see about my anxiety.

Anyway long story short I sure would love top surgery, for a shitload of tangled up reasons. Wish I'd been born with a different set of junk altogether but now gotta figure out how far I'd go to change what I've got.

Period incoming any second now. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Feel free to add your own anecdotes on my health posts. I'm sharing on purpose to try to help others who may be like me and stuff. It's difficult for me to actually write so much personal stuff about MYSELF, despite sincerely benefitting from reading many other people's experiences so.

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mamamittens · 2 years

Text

Firework (+18)

No artwork this time I'm afraid. Got a late start to the day.

Ace/Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: overstimulation, massaging/oil kink, oral (male receiving), a lot of fondling, some light ass play, heavy petting, title/authority kink, hella body worship, pearl necklace, swallowing, and technically snowballing.

Not necessarily in that order.

Oh! And while I imagine some people would be thrilled to receive help for mental health issues in this way, do remember that "magic dick" is a trope and not real. The temporary high does not, in fact, negate any trauma or negative thought process one might suffer from the rest of the time. Though I imagine a Pavlov response could convince you otherwise.

I might continue this later (and I'll absolutely take requests for the direction/gender shenanigans it will go if anyone is bold enough to ask for specifics lmao)

Word Count: 3385

(if you don't see DiCaprio, I managed to slide in a pic I made instead lmao)

It’s a surprise.

Your presence in his room that is.

While no one could claim that Ace was the pinnacle of good mental health, he’d been a lot more introspective and depressed lately. Nothing too big or worrying, certainly not enough to really alarm anyone on the crew… but you noticed.

It… happened every so often. He get stuck in his head, slowly spiraling downward. Slipping down a slope he is ill-prepared to climb back up. But that was okay. It wasn’t unexpected for him to backslide a bit. That’s what you’re for. Well, having a large, loving family helps too. But the crew of strong men and an even stronger father figure weren’t quite equipped for the… let’s say finesse it would take to pull Ace out of the tailspin he had started.

While you never enjoyed seeing him this low, you would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the process of bringing him back up. It wasn’t like he never appreciated your effort or returned the favor, when possible, either. He’d never ask for you to do this, but the way he never retreated or asked you to stop spoke louder than anything else. Coyly tried to derail you, convince you it wasn’t necessary? Sure. He tries that.

But by the end of the night, he’d be begging for more.

The door opened, Ace’s silhouette a desponded shadow against the light in the hall as he stepped into the dark room. His eyes were cast down as he went to flip on the light but paused. He looked up at you, a blush washing down clear to his chest.

You just smiled softly, basking in the candlelight you had set around the room as you leaned back on his bed. It almost hurt how he didn’t even protest or convince you that it was okay for you to go to sleep.

He must have been thinking very dark thoughts this time around.

The door clicked shut as the lock slid into place.

In the dim light, you could still see his blush as he crept closer to you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. Perfectly between your legs. Gently, always so gently, you reached out and caressed his hips. Running your fingertips lightly up the grooves of his abs, invoking a light shudder when you ran your palms over his chest. Reaching up, you smiled as he leaned in to allow you to cradle his chin.

“Hey, firefly. How are you feeling?” Ace let out a shuddering breath, turning his head to press his lips to your palm. “Ah… not good, huh baby? That’s okay. I’m right here.” You stood up, still holding his face so he was forced to stand still as you pressed your body against his. With one hand, you lifted up his hat and placed it onto your own head, his eyes never leaving you as they glowed with heat and longing.

“You look good in my hat. You know that?” Ace whispered, leaning forward to press his lips over yours, hands settling over your lower back as you lean against him. You allowed him this moment. The soft slid of this kiss as it deepened, Ace’s tongue hot as it tangled with your own. You could feel both your hearts shudder as he kept pressing his luck, rubbing his tongue over your lips before gently dominating the kiss again.

You slid your foot around his leg, gripping his waist as his erection swelled against you. Then you shoved him, spinning your positions around so his back slammed into the mattress. Reflexively, Ace braced himself, pushing his tongue deep with a gasp. Surprised, he pulled back, taking in how you were caging him in. Looming over him with a slightly smug grin. There was no mistaking the appreciative look in his eyes, or the erection—his attempt to derail your plan long forgotten. Just as you thought it would be.

Then you got off of him, the look on his face as you walked over to the bedside table one of almost betrayal. Until he saw you grab an unmarked bottle.

“You’ve worked so hard, Commander. I think you’ve earned a little… treat.” You declared, giving him a long look as he openly flushed at the use of his new title. Swallowing hard, he looked at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself. Smiling indulgently, you slipped the bottle into your pocked and walked back over to him. Patting his thighs, you looked at him. “Slide up, firefly. Time to relax.”

He scrambled to kick off his boots and lay on the bed properly. Barely having time to get comfy before you grabbed his hips and flipped him over. An unexpected whimper muffled into the pillows as you smiled. Sitting just below the curve of his ass, you took the bottle and poured some of the oil onto your hands, making sure to not make a mess. Not yet at least.

The slick oil grew warm over your palms as your indulgently pressed your hands into his lower back. Digging your thumbs along his spine. He groaned as his back arched, distinct pops echoing in the room.

“O-Oh… hng, b-babe…” Ace murmured as he clutched a pillow to his face, unable to look back at you. That was okay though. You could feel his body temperature rising as you rubbed the oil into his skin, kneading the defined muscle beneath as you forced him to relax.

“I hear you, Commander. You work so hard. Did you know that? You’ve come so far. So strong and beautiful.” You whispered, pleased that Ace was struggling to muffle his moans beneath you, desperately trying to hear your praise. “I’m so blessed to see how pretty you are like this. Your big, strong muscles are flexing under my hands, do you like this firefly?”

“Y-Yeess~” Ace keened into the pillow, hips flexing to grind against the mattress fruitlessly. The air seemed to waver as the temperature rose. The candles flickering.

“Oh, you put on such a pretty show for me, Commander. What’s happening with the candles, Commander? Don’t you like this? Are you trying to stop me?” you teased, hands kneading the sides of his ribcage as you moved up to his shoulder blades. Leaning in close, you could hear his frantic denials.

“No! Nonono—nnn~ Please baby, don’t stop! Your hands feel so good—wh-what’s in the oil it’s so hot--!” Ace whined as you licked up his exposed nape. Your grip on his biceps was firm as you rubbed the oil in, taking care with the flexing muscles as he shuddered and gasped beneath you, “P-Please—Oh! W-What are you doing to me?”

You chuckled into his hair, nuzzling in close to kiss the back of his ear.

“Oh, Ace… I’m loving you like you deserve. You’re so sweet for me. The oil is a relaxant. Topical. Meant to work better when hot—and you’re doing so good warming it up for me.” You whispered into his ear as he turned his head, finally looking at you. You worked your hands down his forearms, still kneading in the oil as you made your way to his hands still clutching the pillow.

Ace leaned back, lifting his head to kiss you as you moved further away. Teasing him into letting go in an attempt to force your lips to his. With his hands free you laced your fingers together and rewarded him with a deep, open kiss. Enjoying the broken cries as you ground your hips into his ass, forcing his own hips to grind what must be an aching erection into the mattress. This time you were the one pressing deeper into his mouth, stroking your tongue over and around his as he panted for air.

Your hips ground into his ass sensually as you let go of his hands, running your fingers over his thoroughly oiled back, digging into the sore knots until Ace was close to tears. When his breath hitched, you pulled back, soothing his soft protests as he whined. Intimately close to an orgasm that you denied him—for now. His skin felt scalding to the touch, but you were far from done unraveling the ball of anxiety that had formed around his heart.

You moved off of him, pressing a consolation kiss to the dip in his spine when he cried out. Your hands were quick to remove your own clothes, but the way you lingered over the waistband of his pants was slow and sinful. Ace, blushing and openly panting, looked over his shoulder at you, eyes taking in your naked body—save for his hat you had made sure to keep. Without even asking, Ace rolled back his hips, lifting his ass for you as your fingers dug beneath his jeans. Teasingly, you ran your hands around the band until you reached the silky skin below his abs.

You smelled something burning as you brushed his pubic hair, reaching for the throbbing erection with what little room you could manage to get.

“Easy, Commander. We’re not done yet.” You pressed a kiss on his back, withdrawing your hands to remove his belt as Ace sucked in harsh, shuddering breaths, trying to reign himself back in. If he set the bed on fire, there was no way you could keep going. “Will I need to invest in sea stone, Commander? Or can my pretty firefly hold it in?”

“Please! Oh—f-fuck please don’t stop baby—” Ace nearly screamed.

One of your favorite things about Ace? How quickly he came undone when you worshipped him like this.

Not wanting to be cruel, you gently pulled down his pants and boxers, kissing down his back and over his ass as you exposed his skin. Inch by inch. Ace nearly kicked you as he shoved his pants off his legs and to the floor. Just to remind him who was in charge, you pressed down hard on his tailbone, forcing him back onto the bed. If Ace apologized, it was lost in the sweet moan as you grabbed the sides of his hips.

Then, like nothing happened, you kneaded the soft swell of his ass in gentle circles. Resolutely ignoring when Ace keened as your thumbs dipped between them to brush the twitching muscle, pressing down into his perinium. When Ace shuddered, on the brink of orgasm with your thumbs rubbing firmly into his exposed balls, you pulled back. Pretending like you couldn’t hear Ace’s broken pleads as you started massaging his thighs instead.

It wasn’t that Ace couldn’t recover after one orgasm—but you had a plan. And for that plan, you needed Ace desperate and ready to agree to anything you said.

Taking a moment to let him cool down, you applied more oil to your hands. Really appreciating the thick scent of Ace’s arousal mixing with the heady oil. You were burning up—almost aching with arousal now yourself—but there would be plenty of time for that later. You knew full well Ace would consider returning the favor payback for what you were about to do.

When Ace’s breathing had calmed down, you resumed your ministrations. Rubbing into his thighs and forcing him to relax under your hands. His calves were almost jelly now, though you still kneaded the thick muscles on your way to his feet. The oil worked into his ankles and heel, a deep groan echoing in the quiet between soft sighs.

Sure that Ace wouldn’t be able to move on his own, you flipped him over, leaving him no room to hide. His face was flush, eyes heavy with arousal as he licked his lips. His chest heaved for fresh air not thick with the scent of oil and precum. Glancing down, you only smiled at the dark smear where his cock was grinding moment before. It was dark and stiff, leaking pre like water, pubic hair damp and glistening. But you stuck to the plan. Ignoring his aching erection to run your hands over his shins. Every inch of skin coated in oil along the way.

His thighs twitched as his hips jolted, almost attempting to fuck the air in a desperate attempt to entice you. But you merely rubbed firm strokes along the thick muscle until he was boneless again. Your hands teasing around his erection to attend to his hips. He was begging again, words slurring as he gripped at nothing, seemingly incapable of doing anything besides gaze down at you with a heated stare. The scent of hot oil spiked as you leaned over his cock. But you were only positioning yourself to sit on his thighs so you could massage his lower stomach.

“F-Fuck you’re so damn mean—please fuck me—H-Oh fuck me I need it please baby—” Ace sputtered uselessly before he seemed to get an idea just as you were digging your thumbs under his belly button and along the grooves of his lower abs, “O-Order—that’s an order—fuck please I-I- ‘m ordering you please just let me cum—”

You leaned over his body, allowing your stomach to grind over his leaking cock, kissing him into silence. You smirked over his lips, allowing him to desperately swipe his tongue deep. Your hands were firm against his hips though, keeping him from grinding into you properly.

“Oh, Commander, an order? Are you giving me an order?” You teased, arching your back to make space for his cock.

“Yes! Yes, fuck I am!” Ace growled into your lips, hands almost slamming over your ass cheeks. But he was still so weak and relaxed despite his desperation—unable to force you close like he craved.

“So, you’re worthy of it, aren’t you firefly? All that hard work for this power—you deserve this. Don’t you Commander?” You said, slowly grinding your stomach over his stiff cock, smearing precum and oil over your body. “Take what you deserve Commander Ace. Cum for me.”

You let Ace slam your body into his, kiss more teeth and tongue in his needy state as he bruised your ass grinding you against his cock. A deep moan rumbled in his chest as he threw his head back, releasing scorching hot cum between your bodies. Satisfied but not done yet, you braced yourself and started grinding against his hold more. Smearing the hot liquid between you both as more seeped between you, the slick sound echoing between the soft, overstimulated moans Ace couldn’t contain.

After he stopped shaking and his grip on your ass relaxed, you pulled back. Sitting into place again, you picked up where you left off, this time massaging Ace’s cum into his skin as well as oil. Ace, blushing and embarrassed, keened at the sight. His hands still on your ass as his fingers flexed. Fucked and beyond words, Ace looked up at you with want. You merely continued up his abs, making sure to fondle every inch of skin along the way.

The way Ace grunted when you leaned over to kiss him, hands running over his pecs and nipples, stomach once again grinding into his cock—it was satisfying beyond words. Well worth the ever-growing heat and arousal. He moaned into your tongue, hands gripping under your cheeks to hitch you up further, seeking a more intimate grind. You only allowed him a moment of fevered, wishful thinking. Slipping from his hands, you moved downwards.

When the tip of his cock brushed you chin, Ace keened, smearing more precum along your jawline as it bobbed. His hands wove into your hair, seeking to ground himself as you let the head of his dick sit on your tongue, oozing pre as you merely breathed over it. You didn’t bother reminding him to control his fire.

He’d never harm you like that.

Though the sharp hiss as you sealed your lips over the tip of his cock reminded you strongly of evaporating steam. Sea salt and heady arousal flooded your mouth as he came. You hadn’t forgotten how easily he wound himself up—that was the reason you started this encounter after all—but you expected to at least take half of his cock before he flooded your mouth. His cum was just as overwhelmingly hot as you expected, hotter still was the broken moan as Ace realized what he had done. Swiping your tongue under his pulsing cock, you slowly inched down, frequently swallowing to make room for more until your nose was buried in his dark pubes.

Ace didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, struggling to not fuck your throat as his hips twitched to thrust up into your mouth. They tugged lightly on your hair in conflicting directions, the sting light in comparison to the ache on your ass from his earlier grip. You delicately moved your hands to the inside of his hips, pushing them apart lightly and relishing how they twitched beneath you. Finally, Ace realized what he wanted, cupping the back of your head as he looked down into your eyes.

You stared back in challenge, lifting your head against the light pressure of his palm to respond.

“Take what you deserve Commander.” You whispered, teasingly allowing your lips to brush over the leaking head of his cock. You scarcely were able to lick the source of his precum before his hands settled over his hat. And slammed you down his cock.

You nearly choked, nails digging into the tendons between his thighs before you moved to cradle his ass. The muscles there flexed as he drove his cock down your throat, fucking your face as he chased another orgasm. Though you relaxed, your lips were firm, suckling and tongue rubbing along his length.

“F-Fuck yeah, you take my cock so well—I want you so bad. I always do. You’re so much more than I deserve—” You almost bruised his ass as your grip flexed tighter, his hold stuttering to ram you hard into his cock, “S-Sorry—fuck I-I… I deserve this. All of this. Your body—your lips—all of it—all of this is mine a-and I de-deserve it—Ngghh~!” Ace came down your throat, cum burning hot as it warmed your body more. His hat was pushed down your head as Ace’s hands cradled your face. Cheeks full of scalding cum, you locked eyes with him as he gently pressed his thumbs over the swelling. Despite your best efforts to swallow it all down with his cock heavy on your tongue and in your throat, some spilled out under the pressure.

Ace moaned softly, dragging your face up and off his cock. Still cumming, his cock shot out and decorated your face with hot cum. It dripped down your face, over your jaw, and across your chest. And Ace looked at you all the while, clearly getting aroused by the sight of fresh cum mixing with the slowly drying mess on your lower body. When you thought he was finished, cock just as flushed as before but no longer dripping and spitting liquid, you smiled.

“I love you.”

Ace keened as his cock twitched, shooting more hot cum over your chest as you both watched in surprise. It was shorter than the last, Ace clearly reaching his limit without a break in your assault on his body and heart, but no less hot and thick. Without a word, Ace pulled you up and slammed his lips over yours.

His tongue licking the smeared cum on your face and lips before driving it into your mouth. He growled as you retreated, holding you closer to force the kiss deeper.

Now, it was your turn.

Pulling back just enough for air, tongues still tangled as you both panted, you keened back at him. Ace chuckled and you knew you were in for it. His self-confidence swinging wildly in the other direction now.

“As your Commander, I think it’s time you were rewarded for your… services. But for your insolence, I’m going to make you scream. After all, you deserve it.” Ace threatened hotly before returning his tongue between your lips to silence any protest.

Not that there would be any.

#one piece smut #portgas d ace #ace X reader #gender neutral reader #minors dni #is this filthy or sweet #you decide #I'm not doing anything else for the 4th so this seems like the next best thing #*cue the 'glory glory what a hell of a way to die' music

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cheeriecherry · 2 years

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The Lonely [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Viktor x fem!Reader Warnings: blood, accidental murder, you briefly get impaled, mentions of depression/not wanting to live, dramatics on both your and Viktor’s parts, Fandom: Arcane Proofread: no lol

Chapter Summary: You have a bad day and the Viktor tries to make it better.

Three weeks have passed since Viktor woke up after you turned him. As you expected, he’s been a little cranky and terse in your few interactions, so you’ve been leaving him well enough alone. You know better than anyone what it’s like to suddenly have the world come alive around you, new sights and smells and sounds that never end; it’s beautiful, but wholeheartedly overwhelming for the first little while.

What surprises you is how well he’s handling it all: yes, he’s a little unpleasant to converse with at the moment, but he’s been quiet and comfortable so far - holed up in the library to read and study, equipped with those silly teething rings you’d gotten him and a mini-fridge full of blood bags. It’s a little unsettling how easily he’s able to fall back into his old lifestyle, but you’re trying to keep an open mind - you’d been forced into vampirism: Viktor had chosen this.

But you still have guilt weighing heavily on your shoulders, negative thoughts crowding and swirling around in your mind. Typically you’d just push them down, or distract yourself with other tasks, but nothing…feels right. You don’t need to sleep, and yet you find yourself lacking the energy to do more than just sit on a chair in the scullery and watch the snow fall through the window. Or maybe you lack the motivation? The most daunting task you have on hand is draining the basement, but you’ve got a hundred other things piled up on your list.

Why can’t you just pick one?

You sigh deeply, deep in the tangled mess of your thoughts. Apparently you’re loud enough that your friend hears you, though, even from all the way up in the library: he appears in the doorway most suddenly, startling you so badly that you pitch sideways out of your chair.

You glare up at him from the floor with halfhearted malice, and he offers you a hand as well as an apologetic smile.

“I didn’t mean to catch you at unawares,” he says, helping you to your feet. “Though you must be…incredibly distracted, not to have heard me approach. Are you alright?”

The genuine concern in his tone is what really ties your stomach in knots: you’ve been giving him space while he adjusts to his new life, but without his presence to aid your generally sour mood, you’ve been…spiraling. In the few months you’ve known him, you’ve gotten used to him as a presence in your life, and to not have him around - even temporarily, and for his own good - you’re lonely.

You want to see him every day; talk to him, learn with him, laugh with him, witness him thrive! You want to be there for all his new discoveries and triumphs, you want to listen to him excitedly dump facts about alchemy and science, you want…him. You want him, and it makes you feel guilty, and nauseous, and horrible. He’s going through so much, and for you to throw all your feelings at him in a time of vulnerability-

“Y/N?”

The sound of his voice brings you out of your head, and you snap back to the present with a small smile. “I’m fine,” you assure him, though it’s obvious he doesn’t believe you. You persist anyways, telling him, “I think I just need to hunt, is all. You know how scratchy the feeling gets.”

Viktor finds a seat in the chair beside you, and his cool hand finds a place on your thigh - meant to be a comforting gesture, you know, but if you had a heartbeat, it would certainly be fluttering in your chest.

“We have blood in the fridge,” he says softly.

You shake your head, pat his hand with your own, and try to offer him the same unconvincing smile. “That’s your blood, sweetheart,” you say gently, “It’s harder to get in bags, so we can’t go around wasting it while I’m able to catch my own.”

His fingers dig into your thigh. “We’ve got plenty. I just had some this morning-”

“I need to hunt, Viktor.”

The sharpness of your tone surprises both of you into silence, and you sigh again. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been…a little grouchy, lately.”

“So there is something bothering you, then?”

You crinkle your nose up. You don’t really want to tell him about everything you’ve been feeling; you know you should, and that he would definitely want to try and help you, but…would he blame himself at all? For being unavailable to you, even though he’d just had his life drastically altered?

It’s not his job to look after me, you decide.

“I’m restless,” you tell him, and it’s only half a lie. “Bagged blood is good when you’ve first turned - it’s easier to control yourself - but eventually the desire to… chase prey… arises. I need to let some energy out.”

He seems a little more convinced with this explanation, though the narrowing of his eyes makes you think that he knows there’s something you’re not telling him.

He doesn’t mention it, in any case, and you’re not going to jump at the chance to spill your secrets.

You rise from the chair, and Viktor lets his hand fall back into his own lap. You give him a quick kiss on the forehead, promise that you’ll be back before dinner, and disappear out the door into the snow.

___

Hikers are always your favourite type of meal. They’re easy to come by, since the land all around you is full of winding and meandering trails, and they’re easy to locate: they make so much noise tromping around in the underbrush, especially in the winter when everything is frozen and crisp. They’re the best tasting kind of human, deliciously warm, and with their hearts pumping hard in their chests.

Thinking about it as you wander along a secluded forest trail makes your teeth ache and the edges of your vision fade to black. Admittedly, you haven’t been the best at taking care of yourself in centuries past; going too long between meals, and making your hunts too primal and uncontrollable. You’d still managed to save the few people you had taken too much from, but it was questionable how their lives had fared afterwards - had they had a fruitful existence? Or had your momentary lapse in self awareness caused them to always be left behind?

You had never really enjoyed hunting. It satisfied the instinctual need to sink your teeth into a living creature, but it wasn’t pleasing by any means. You could never get into it like your father had: he had loved seeing the fear in the eyes of humans, and hearing them plead and beg as he bit into them and bled them dry. He’d tried time and time again to get you to take the same pleasure in the hunt, but you were steadfast and stubborn.

How different would you have been, if you’d been what he wanted you to be? Would you have turned Viktor with ease? Would you have even taken him in? Hell, would you have even stayed cooped up in an old castle all these years, or would you still be out in the world?

Your head throbs, and the corners of your vision darken again. Maybe Viktor had been right, earlier, when he’d suggested having some blood from a bag: you were in no state of mind to be hunting right now - not if you didn’t want to lose control and hurt someone.

You turn on your heel to head back home, only to freeze when you finally realize there’s someone standing behind you. A man maybe a little taller than you, donning typical winter walking gear as well as a surprised expression.

He looks somewhat wary as he watches you, not making any moves to come closer, but still too curious to turn the other way and run. You must be quite the sight, you think: hair a mess, and wearing nothing more than thin brown leggings and a billowing cotton shirt.

“Are you okay?” the man asks, swallowing thickly. You can see the pulse in his neck, hear how steady his heart is in his chest, and your head pounds again, darkness creeping further into your line of sight.

“Are you lost?” he wonders again, taking a couple steps towards you, “Jesus, you’ve gotta be freezing. I can take you back to town, though it’s a ways…shit, do you have anywhere to go-”

All at once, he stops pacing forward, stops talking, and stares at you. Something in your posture must have changed, the way you can feel your control slipping: he knows you’re a threat. His heart rate has nearly doubled, as if he’s realized his impending demise.

You try to fight against your instincts, try to stay where you are.

You take a step towards him.

He takes a step back.

You take another step.

He barely has time to turn around before you’re on him, tackling him into the snow in a flurry of hissing and shouting. The man struggles, wiggling and kicking and trying to throw you off, but you’re too strong: you pin his arms and sink your teeth into his neck, and then it’s only a matter of time before he goes limp. You’ve not given him enough venom to turn him, only to temporarily tranquilize him; he won’t even realize what’s happening while you feast on him.

His blood is bitter on your tongue, though. It’s as fresh as it can possibly be, and yet it does little to sate your constant thirst - it’s thin and watery, and doesn’t call to you the same way Viktor’s blood had. Though in your experience, no one has ever drawn you in like he has; not a human, nor a vampire.

You pause as you hear a soft click a little ways away, the darkness in your vision just beginning to fade, and not a second later, pain blooms hot in your shoulder.

You drop the man in your grasp, and stare down at the spot on your chest that now pinches and burns. You’ve been shot in the back, you realize, when you see some of your skin rising to a point just below your clavicle. The barest hint of silver - the head of a crossbow bolt - pokes through your skin.

Someone shot you.

All at once, the darkness that had been clouding your mind throughout the morning boils to red, and you feel your last shred of control snap in half.

It takes only a couple seconds to find the other person, hidden up in a tree some thirty feet away, cursing and complaining about ‘missing the shot’. You want to wonder what he means, but you’re fading.

The last thing you see before you’re consumed by red, is the face of a frightened man as you knock him out of a tree.

___

You come back to awareness slowly, as if waking from a deep slumber. You feel the tickle of your hair against your neck, and the scratch of tree bark on your arm. It’s quiet, you note, with not a sound of bird or mouse. The air is fresh - cold, even - and the soft ping of snowflakes on your skin rouses you further.

When you finally open your eyes, it’s dark. Not completely dark - not with your enhanced vision - but there is no light of moon or stars; the sky is cloudy, a dim orange reflecting down from the distant city lights.

You stir a little, tensing with a soft groan when pain radiates across your chest and down your arm.

What happened?

You look around blearily, trying to figure out where you are and what you’d been doing, and your gaze settles on a dark lump not far from you. Partially covered in snow, completely still and silent, but something about the shape is not quite organic to the forest.

You crawl towards the mass, ignoring the sharp sting across your torso, and settle beside it. You don’t need to touch it to realize what it is: you can smell the stale blood lingering in the air, as well as the beginnings of decay. Part of your mind vaguely remembers toppling the now-deceased man from up in a tree…but you’re not sure what killed him. Was it the fall? Or was it blood loss, after you drained him?

You push yourself away from the corpse, and shakily rise to your feet. You’re deep in the forest, and it’s snowing hard. No one would find the evidence of your crimes until at least the spring, when the ice would melt and the body would begin rotting faster. Even if you left tracks tonight, they would be covered by morning.

You nod to yourself, still dazed, and start off in the direction you know is home. You feel like you’re forgetting something, but with everything that’s happened, you just want to be back safe within the walls of your castle.

___

You walk quietly in through the front door, closing and barring the grand wooden slab behind you. You vaguely register Viktor calling to you, but you don’t reply; you’re in a haze, and you only have one thing on your mind.

Walking into the kitchen, you drag one of the knit rugs up off the floor, revealing a metal hatch laid into the stone. Viktor calls to you again, closer this time, and you continue to ignore him, instead pulling the little latch up and descending down the flight of stairs beneath it.

It’s not a particularly large cellar, nor is there much stored in it anymore. You kicked your habit of daydrinking nearly a century ago, but so many years on your own had left the poor wine racks nearly empty, and covered in dirt and dust. Shit, you weren’t even sure if the stuff was still good.

But regardless of what may be inside it, you select a large bottle and carry it back up into the kitchen, kicking the hatch closed behind you and haphazardly tossing the rug back over it.

A catch of breath sounds from behind you, and you flick your gaze towards Viktor, who is standing shocked in the doorway.

“Hello,” you rasp, pulling at the cork in the bottle. When it doesn’t come free, you hiss in frustration and wrap your hand around the neck, snapping the head clean off. The tiniest bit of wine spills, splashing down your hand, but you’ve no mind to care. You bring the jagged edge to your lips.

“What happened?” Viktor croaks, coming closer to you, his eyes wide. “You’re covered in blood- and is that an arrow in your shoulder?”

You take a long swig of wine, which had definitely soured sometime in the past two hundred years, and shrug.

“I got shot,” you say nonchalantly.

“I can see that. What the hell happened?”

You stare at him for a couple seconds, and then sigh.

“I fucked up, Viktor. I fucked up. I was cranky, and thirsty, and I was going to come home, and-” the memories come flooding back, “Fuck, I lost control, and I- I got shot, and- and-”

Your voice quivers harder with every word you speak, so you elect to take another couple mouthfuls of wine.

Viktor slowly makes his way to your side, and finally gets a decent look at the bolt protruding out of your right shoulder. He doesn’t ask about the person who shot you, knowing full well what ‘losing control’ means: instead he gently takes the bottle from your hands, and focuses on the thin rod stuck in your body.

You complain a little bit, reaching out for your drink, but he holds it well out of your grasp. “Consuming an entire bottle of questionable sixteenth century wine will not help your condition,” he says, shushing you when you try to argue, “But removing the, ah… debris from your shoulder will.”

You frown at him, but help him remove your bloodied shirt nonetheless, dropping it to the floor in a heap.

Viktor’s touch is gentle, as he studies the wound and assailing object. Even when he tugs on the bolt to test how stuck it is, he barely causes you any pain; you’re not sure if it’s because you’re still so out of it, or if it’s because he’s genuinely so careful with you.

He moves around to poke at the front of your body, where the tip of the arrow just barely pokes through your skin, and you watch him carefully. It miffs you, how little you can sense about him now. His cheeks don’t flush that pretty pink, and his heart can’t quicken in his chest anymore. You can’t tell if he’s totally focused on helping you, or if he’s just uninterested in the fact that you’re shirtless in front of him.

“It’s barbed,” he mumbles, dropping his hands away from you so he can pace around the kitchen. “Getting the bolt back out is going to be…unpleasant. If it were further through your body, we could pull it out easier, but-”

“Just push it through,” you say, and Viktor pauses mid-step.

“Just- excuse me?”

“Just push it the rest of the way through, and yoink it out,” you say again.

Viktor looks at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “I’m not going to impale you!”

“Pity.”

“You!” He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “Are in a decidedly foul mood.”

You throw your arms up, ignoring the sting in your shoulder. “I wonder why!” you nearly yell, “Maybe because I murdered someone? Actually, no, I think I murdered two someones, but I don’t fucking remember!”

“It’s not just tonight, Y/N! You’ve been unpleasant ever since-” he takes a breath, and his next words are calmer, “-ever since you turned me.”

You roll your eyes, and march over to the nearest stone wall. Viktor watches you in question for a couple seconds, and by the time he realizes what you’re doing, you’ve already slammed your back - and the crossbow bolt - against it. It pierces easily through your skin, and you rip it the rest of the way out before he can do anything.

“I’m fine,” you say, gesturing to the hole that is swiftly knitting itself shut. “I’m already healing-”

In a flurry of movement, Viktor shoves you back against the wall. He’s strong enough now that his grip on your arms makes your bones ache, and you can’t escape no matter how much you wiggle.

“Whether or not you’re healing is beside the point,” he hisses, anger lighting up in his eyes, “By the gods, why are you always so ready and willing to hurt yourself?”

You pause, your own malice fizzling away at his words, and all at once a deep sadness replaces it. Tears well up in your eyes, no matter how hard you fight them, and tumble down your cheeks. “Because I’m old and I want to die, Viktor. And I can’t. And now I’ve condemned you to the same fate, and I- I’ve killed people, and- and- I don’t deserve good things!”

As your words sink in, his grip on your arms loosens to naught but a gentle touch, and the rage fades from his eyes as he lets his head fall forward to rest in the crook of your neck. “You still think you’ve damned me,” he mumbles, breath cool on your skin.

You say nothing, trembling harshly as you fight against the sobs bubbling in your chest.

Viktor releases his grip on your arms, pulling back a few inches to instead take your face in his hands. All the anger is gone from his expression, an unnamed intensity rising up in its stead. “I will say this as many times as I have to. Every day, if that is what it takes: my pain is gone because of you. I can breathe because of you. I am alive because of you. You have given me life beyond what I ever thought possible, and I intend to savor its many pleasures.”

He draws you closer, resting his forehead against yours, thumbing away the tears that leave tracks down your cheeks.

“However long it takes for you to believe me, I will wait,” he continues, “I will stay here in this old castle, gathering what knowledge it provides, and one day when you deem me ready, I will bring all of it to the world.”

Panic shoots through you at his suggestion of leaving, but he’s quick to calm you, “And wherever I go, I will take you along with me. We can see what lays beyond this castle, the moor, the sleepy little town down the hill. We can go anywhere you want, experience anything. We can get out of your father’s shadow, and away from the horrors he’s left behind.”

“Just…please,” He swipes the final tear from under your eye, “Zlatíčko, say you’ll stay with me, and try to let the world back in? However long it takes, just…try?”

Overcome with emotion, enticed by his pretty words and soft touch, you close the distance he’s kept between you. You kiss him, in a way so unlike the first; no longer are you reassuring him in a moment of panic, but seeking such a thing from him instead. He pulls you closer, his fingers knitting together behind your neck, and leans into you, pressing you against the wall.

He parts from you a couple moments later, leaving a trail of tiny kisses across your jaw and down your neck, to where he noses at your collarbone. His shallow breaths tickle at your skin, and you shiver at the sensation.

“I would have you right here,” he mumbles, pressing a mischievous kiss to your skin, “but I think we need to talk first. Perhaps after a bath, if you’re amenable?”

#The Lonely #viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #vampire!reader #vampire!viktor #inappropriate settings for declarations of love #im hellbent on making this so fucking dramatic #and a tiny bit of plot if you squint

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gaoau · 4 months

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I don't mind losing when you're winning

Raison d'Être warnings — none. word count — 2.5k

prev. — next.

Walking home under the rain with Chifuyu was far too reminiscent of the night they first met. By itself, it wasn't necessarily a negative memory, but with the lack of Ai's presence between her arms, she didn't want to think about everything she could have done differently. It was incredibly comforting anyway, having the most gorgeous soul on Earth right by her side, keeping her dry from the rain, making sure she got home safe. He'd even bothered to stop by a grocery store and buy her some food—he knew her eating habits were only becoming worse and wanted to do something about it. She was hopelessly in love with the sides of Chifuyu she'd seen so far, and she only wanted to see more of him so she could fall in love with all of him.

As soon as they reached her apartment building, [Name] became hyperaware of the body heat Chifuyu was so naturally radiating. She knew he was warm, both figuratively and literally, but now that she had to head into her apartment all on her own, she was starting to miss his warmth before it even disappeared. She wanted to spend time with him a little longer. Was that so wrong? Was it so wrong to crave his company?

Chifuyu halted right at the entrance, opting to bid his goodbye here rather than invade her privacy. Wearing the brightest of smiles, the kindest of simpers, he raised the grocery bag in his hand and offered it to her. She blinked down at it, slightly disoriented. "Have some dinner, yeah?" he let a gentle chuckle slip.

With hesitating fingers, she peered into the bag. "Yakisoba?"

"Peyoung flavored yakisoba," he corrected, boasting a proud grin that showed off all his teeth and transmitted his joy to her. Then his hand travelled towards his nape as he averted his eyes. "I didn't know if you'd like it, but it's a comfort food, so it was the first thing I could think of."

[Name] felt like she could cry right then and there. "I remember you mentioning that." Of course she remembered him mentioning it. He had wanted to cheer her up, the same way he was doing right now. With all of his efforts and a meal that was extremely important to him—Chifuyu was just so good. She had to keep her vocal cords from tangling themselves up, lips pursing to stop herself from saying anything unfiltered. "Well, then, um… Would you… like to come in for a bit?" Her voice almost broke. "I could—I could really use a friend."

She didn't know his smile could get any brighter. "I'd love to!" he cheered. A person had never looked so beautiful to her. Beyond his entrancing blue eyes, his brown hair was crowned with droplets of rain reflecting like diamonds, his cheeks were turning red from the cold, and that gorgeous beam on his face that never disappeared.

He was just so lovely.

She had underestimated how much she'd been neglecting the tidiness of her own apartment. Windows wide open and clothes she'd forgotten she owned strewn around the living room. The worst part, however, was the dark cups of paint water on the dinner table, alongside the countless art supplies scattered around. Acrylic tubes, some open, some carefully closed; three open palettes of watercolors; fountain pens and paintbrushes, some of which had tumbled to the floor. There were no dirty dishes piling up in the kitchen fortunately—although that clearly meant she hadn't been eating. Chifuyu didn't seem to mind as he gave her a hand to clean up.

He pretended not to see the gigantic canvas by the wall. He was dying to take a closer look and ask about it.

They sat at the table, chopsticks in their hands and two glasses of water. [Name] hadn't set up two glasses in years. But there she was, sharing dinner with Chifuyu for a second time, though this time it was much more intimate and personal. It was for more than Chifuyu's attempt at getting her out of her own head and her stupid artist's block; it was for herself to assess the feelings she still didn't completely understand, those Kazutora had helped her out with, those she was afraid would be love yet at the same time wanted to be love. She wanted to love Chifuyu.

He studied her while she slurped her noodles up, reveling in the savoriness of the meal. She didn't know what comfort meant to Chifuyu, but this was a habit she could easily pick up for herself. "How is it, [Name]-san?" he asked with sparkling enthusiasm. It wasn't like she hadn't tried this particular flavor of yakisoba before, but he was so excited.

"It's really good. Thanks for sharing this with me, Chifuyu-san." A smile quirked her lips up. He was glad to see her smiling again. Then, under her breath, she sighed, "I really needed this."

"Anytime, [Name]-san. It's no problem."

"Is it?" The words leapt from her tongue before she could catch them. Chifuyu blinked at her, freezing on the spot. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that." She stared down at her container of yakisoba. "But you're always so willing to give a hand. I wonder if it's really no problem. Who… Who helps the helper?"

Admittedly, Chifuyu never thought [Name] could do more than just look into his soul with those piercing eyes of hers. She'd drawn the surface plenty of times, but she had pondered over his own brain without him realizing. He took a sip from his water. "My dad used to say that if someone is in trouble, anyone, I should help them." [Name] refused to look up at him. He held his stare trained on her. "You were in trouble when you came to me, [Name]-san; in many more troubles than I could've guessed." He allowed his body to act on autopilot when he reached his hand out and placed it over her wrist. "So I'll help you. Ai or art or anything, really. I'll help you." He didn't want to say it aloud, mostly because [Name] didn't need to hear his own woes, but he surely talked big for someone that was chasing somebody else's dreams.

[Name] didn't know what was going on inside Chifuyu's head as he so warmly and so gently spoke to her, telling her he was going to stay with her as long as she needed him. She didn't know he was kicking himself for the words he was offering her, but she wished she could. She wished she could read into all of him to understand the corners of his mind he was now giving her access to. Beautiful and endearing, he lived by a philosophy she couldn't quite grasp, she couldn't finish to comprehend. She desperately wanted to. The more she could know about him, the more he allowed her to see, the more she could reassure herself it was okay to fall in love with Chifuyu.

Tears welled up in her eyes and her chest tightened. She felt her heart beating, she felt her heart full, she felt it being put to use just so she could look at Chifuyu and appreciate him. "Thanks," she managed to croak out with a trembling voice. She really wanted to avoid crying all over her dinner. It was so comforting, though, almost overwhelming. So many funny feelings and colors she'd never even known. "Thank you. Thank you, Chifuyu-san. Thank you so much." She hid her face behind her hands, ignoring the chopsticks between her fingers pressing against her cheek. One moment and she would recompose herself.

"You'll manage, [Name]-san." He retrieved his hand to return to his noodles, a gentle simper settling on his lips. "Ai'll be fine, yeah?"

That made her stop. Her tears seemed to retreat into her eyes. "Oh…" she let the realization tumble from her lips. "Oh, no, I'm not worried about Ai—I am, just not that much. I wish it were that simple." She peeked through her fingers to gawk at Chifuyu across from her like a fish out of water. She dragged her palms across her face and then set her forearms on the table. Sighing, she shoved more food into her mouth, "I'm sorry, this is a mess…"

Chifuyu scrambled to backpedal. His hands swung around in a panic. "Hey, no, it's okay if it's about you. I'm here anyway."

"And that's what I'm sorry about. I don't know what I'm doing with you." She saw him cocking a brow. The smile crawling onto her lips was automatic. He was so lovely. She sniffled to stop herself from crying. "You've helped me through so much and I really, really hope you don't mind staying with me—"

He intercepted her thoughts before she could spiral, "I will. I'm doing this of my own volition." A reminder; a soft reminder that it was okay. It gave her a second to breathe.

"I understand that. It's what you make me feel that I don't understand." Neither of them were expecting those words to come out in her voice. Chifuyu burned for a moment as flashes of every shoujo manga scene he'd ever read played like a slideshow through his mind. [Name] cleared her throat. "Kazutora-kun pointed it out to me, actually. Am I too dependent on you?"

Oh, okay, that made more sense. Yeah, no, what was he thinking? He laughed to ease his nerves—just a little chuckle to pretend it was for her. "If you're not used to asking for help, that's not your fault." He could hardly believe he was going to dig into his most precious memories. But [Name] needed it, so he figured it was okay. "You know," he started, contemplating his next words, "I didn't respect anyone back in middle-school, so I was always on my own. I didn't need help from anyone, I was better than 'em. But then I was getting my ass handed to me and this crazy strong dude showed up and helped me out. He made me get used to asking for help. He was the one I first shared some peyoung yakisoba with."

[Name] glanced down at the yakisoba she'd been slowly eating from; at Chifuyu's comfort food, the one that was special to him and now he was sharing with her just to make her feel better. She had guessed there was far more weight to this dinner, but there was even more than she had originally thought. She stared at it when she spoke, "Is it okay for one single person to change you like that?"

"I didn't even realize he'd changed me and I was already looking up to him. I dunno, I didn't think too much about it. I was young and impressionable."

She looked up to stare into his eyes, intense blue muted down to a soft cerulean as a filter of nostalgia glazed over them. "So I'm just impressionable?"

Chifuyu couldn't help his laughter from spilling. "Did I impress you?"

A furious warmth consumed her and set her cheeks aflame. Her lips pursed in thought. "A lot," she muttered. Her attention averted towards the tall canvas she had abandoned for the past few days. Of course he'd impressed her. "Even right now, with all you're saying, you're so impressive." She smiled. She could do nothing more than smile.

Surprised, Chifuyu blinked blankly. He had certainly not expected that. "There's nothing wrong with that. You know, I think there are people far more impressive than me. I should introduce you to Takemicchi; you'll see what I mean."

"That's hard to believe," she chuckled. He joined her. "Really, it's hard to believe. You're so…" Her mind drifted away to find the correct adjective to describe Chifuyu and how he reflected in her mind. Fantastic, wonderful, fascinating, genuine, lovely. Lovely was a good one. He was so lovely. "…kind." Sure, she could keep it at that for now. "Even if they're more than you are, I don't think I'd see it. I think Matsuno Chifuyu is the best I got and no one can top that."

Chifuyu's brows jumped in surprise. [Name] was full of surprises. He should've known; she'd seemed so hesitant and meek, but then he caught a glimpse of her striking ink drawings and he knew she was bolder than he had imagined. A nervous giggle tumbled from his mouth as he sipped from his glass of water. "So—" His breath got stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat, suddenly dizzy from this warmth consuming him. "Then you're okay with relying on me?"

Truthfully, relying on Chifuyu scared her the same way working with white did. Unknown, jarring, over-the-top, confusing, might as well have given her a headache. It seemed wrong, but somehow felt right. It was too much all at once, and yet she knew she needed it to complement the black of her comfort zone. So she sucked in a deep breath.

"Black was my favorite color growing up," [Name] started in a mumble. Chifuyu leaned in to listen to her thoughts, fearing his own breathing would drown the sound of her voice. "Before I even started doing art, I always liked it. I know… I know it's usually associated with, you know, negative stuff, but I always thought about the night sky or that cute cat down the street. My brothers made fun of me for it, though—they made fun of me in general. The cat was shot dead by some psycho. I found it in my room in the morning. My brothers were laughing their asses off when I screamed."

"What the fuck…?"

"I know. Then when I did start doing art, my father was very explicit when he said he didn't support it and it was a waste. Typical I'm looking out for you, give it up. Anyway, I bought my first sketchbook with my own money. And I watched my mother tear it up into the sink like it was scrap paper. My art teacher said I wouldn't get anywhere, especially if I only used black. Even my friends only ever asked me to draw them, but with color, [Name]-chan."

Chifuyu realized what india ink meant to her now. "You pushed through, though." His arm motioned to the vast display of canvases and shelved sketchbooks while he cheered, "Look at all the art you've made!"

"I did push through. All by myself. See where I'm going with this?"

He nodded. "It's hard to start relying on others now." He understood.

"Very."

"But you're pushing through." His charming grin was contagious. "Now you got me, and you're relying on me. You wouldn't be eating this yakisoba with me otherwise, would ya?"

Her shoulders bounced with notes of laughter. Chifuyu could think all she couldn't. "See? You break it down into simple things."

"And I'll keep doing it if you need me to."

#Raison d'Être #Tokyo Revengers #Matsuno Chifuyu #Matsuno Chifuyu x Reader #Chifuyu x Reader #Tokyo Revengers x Reader #tokrev #tokrev x reader

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no-more-tales-tavern · 9 months

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Anon sent: "Snippet ask: Somelike it rough v2 Yasha 4c treatment by a half orc"

Some Like it Rough V2: 4C

She had hoped, after being freed of the control of...whoever it was that had controlled her...that she would be free to chart her own path. She wanted to see a world beyond the bleak wastes of Xhorhas, to see beautiful and vibrant colors and lands the likes of which she'd never experienced--the likes of which Zuala had always dreamed of seeing. She'd hoped she'd be able to see them for her.

She didn't even make it a half-day from the Stormlord's shrine.

Yasha gagged, choking, moaning as she felt the large, thick cock shove down her throat--she felt the orc chief's fingers tangle in her wild hair, gripping it tight like handles or a leash as he shoved her down over and over again. The massive prick plunged down her gullet, bulging out her throat, and she swore she could feel it thrust between her lungs and down into her gut.

After wandering from the shrine, she'd stumbled into a band of orc marauders, led by a half-orc--one of the rare few half-orcs that stood just as tall or taller than his full-blood brothers. With no weapon and no clan to defend her, she could barely put up a fight, though the fight she had put up had clearly impressed the leader.

"Ha! A woman with fire in her heart!" he'd exclaimed, before shoving her down onto her back and pinning her with his boot on her gut. "You'll make a fine wife~"

Which was what led her to where she was now--stripped of her clothes and down on her knees in the orc chief's tent, forced to take his massive cock down her throat over and over again as he groaned with approval. She was helpless--even with her own considerable strength, she was no match for him, and could do nothing more than let him fuck her face like it was all it was good for.

"Yesss~!" the half-orc growled, and suddenly he pulled her back--the hands in her hair dropping to instead wrap around her neck and lift her gaze up to him. "You'll make a good cocksucker soon~ but now--!"

Yasha gasped, his grip around her neck tightening as he lifted the buxom barbarian up off her feet and flung her onto his bed. She gasped as she bounced on the soft mattress, her body sprawled out upon the beast-hide bedcover--she'd never felt so light, so small, and despite her own hatred in her position...she felt a small part of her heart flutter.

The half-orc smirked at her dazed expression, his larger frame eclipsing hers as he joined her on the bed, hands moving to hold her legs spread. "Now it's time to claim my mate~" he declared, grinning savagely down at her.

Again, Yasha felt a shudder inside--a not entirely negative one--but she attempted to shoot a glare his way. Her expression only made the orc chief grin more lustfully, his eyes staring deep into hers as he pressed his forehead to hers. "Yes, stormy one, show me your fire~ I want to see it burn brighter as you become mine~"

With that, the orc chief crashed his lips to hers, stealing a kiss from her lips that made Yasha gasp, and moan. She felt his cock drive hard into her folds a second later, and it became a full, open-mouth moan, allowing the orc to deepen the kiss and conquer her tongue in a lustful wrestle for domination. His hips rocked hard, driving his cock deep into her, and Yasha felt her eyes begin to roll into the back of her head.

She wasn't sure exactly when she'd started moaning for more--when she'd wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her breasts--when she'd squealed as his tusks dug into their pillowy softness and marked her as his. She wasn't sure when he'd flipped her onto her face--when he'd held her hair like a leash and forced her back to arch as she sang out his name-- "Voraxx~!! Voraxx~!! More, Voraxx, more~!!"

She wasn't sure.

All she knew was that as the morning light began to peek into the orc chief's tent, it crept across the still-entwined forms of Voraxx the Voracious and his new warrior bride, a thoroughly-fucked, thoroughly-broken, and thoroughly-pleased Yasha Nydoorin, who for the first time in years felt she truly belonged.

#a twisted tale (nsft snippet)#exandria is for lovers (critical role)#the lonely flower (yasha nydoorin)#you've met a terrible fate (bad ending)#going off script (canon divergent)#a tavern regular (oc muse)#king of the wastes (voraxx the voracious)

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magnuficent76 · 7 months

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I wanna know more about Andromeda and Salt... They're not as oft talked about. Self, for bad, and Loss for both of them!

Also for Good (for Archer) bc I'm v curious but you can do whichever ones of these yoy feel most like talking about

HAII AND I WILL ABSOLUTELY TALK ABOUT THEM !! I have GOT to stop neglecting my ocs but the Worms are In There </3

[Link to the actual list !]

Self – How is your OC's relationship with themself? Does your OC like who they are? Is there anything about themself that they would change?

■ For Salt, I like to think he's pretty much already his ideal self ! When they were small, they already figured out being a girl wasn't all that fun, so they tried a bunch of everything before figuring it all out: Oh I don't have to subscribe to this at all ! This is awesome :D My gender is [EXPLOSION GIF] [SEVERAL FLASHING LIGHTS] [EXPLOSION GIF BUT FASTER]. He's got all that self expression and presentation down pat: You are like the bullets being shot from a machine gun. Extremely deadly and so very loud, but also very cool, so nobody can tell you anything ever. This strategy has worked for as long as Salt has been alive since they've never really had that bad of a time using their body, so clearly they're doin' it right.

♠︎ For Andromeda, given they're an immortal being of chaos reborn into a mortal vessel to experience things, she hasn't exactly had time to worry about "insecurities" given all the Situations Xe Puts Zirself In. They love themselves and they love what they stand for and he has never before worried about being wrong, because error is necessary for nature to get things right !!! Who give a shit !!! Faer's already everything and anything fae wants to also because of the fact she is a VERY skilled shapeshifter. Gender fluid but to the most literal way you can possibly make it. Sometimes it gets hard having to conform to society's standards of normalcy, because he really enjoys just being weird looking and generally uncanny, but yk, fae manages ! No need to be upset if you're constantly in a loop of happiness and manageable chaos !!

For Bad – Is there anyone who had an undeniable negative impact on your OC’s life? How did your OC deal with that change? Have they been able to move on?

■ Salt has always the curse of being way too bold for his own good, so often times, he'll get tangled with the wrong person and end up a little worse off than he'd like. One of those people would be their ex friend/partner: Pepper. Pep was... well, bad for them, and they both knew it since they would constantly fight and be at each other's throats, but the thrill kept them both coming back. This adrenaline seeking behavior that often injured both parties was unhealthy to say the least, but its pretty much ingrained into Salt's brain now. Putting themselves in situations but like in a bad way. Their current girlfriend is helping them express those more aggressive thrills in healthier ways though, don't worry :]

♠︎ Andromeda has had their fair share of bad people in their life, all to fuel the passion of their unrelenting dreams of being a star, so its no surprise they also have a fair share of bad people coming in and out of it. Its a little more... personal, for her though. See, Andy is a model, and the industry is plenty exploitative as it is, but seeing as they have that craving, agents get a little... too comfortable, I suppose you could say. He's had to deal with plenty of touchy creeps and greedy agents and the like, pretty much on a weekly basis since xe gets contracts Often, but they manage. It doesn't affect xem all that negatively anymore, they're still naturally friendly !... but don't mistake that friendliness for trust, because they DO NOT trust anymore.

For Good – Is there anyone in your OC's life who had an undeniable positive impact on who they are as a person? How did knowing this person improve your OC's life?

◇ He would never admit it, even if you tried to torture it out of him, but the person that impacted Archer the most is probably Jonah. He looooooves acting like Jonah ruined his life and that he would've been better off a single child, but he loves the guy, even when they don't get along. They have been together through basically everything, being able to rely on the other in case things got rough, and it infuriates Archer how much better of a person he is because of his brother's support throughout their life together. He has this unspoken admiration for Jo that he wishes to express better, but that often turns into jealousy and bitterness simply because he feels inferior to anyone who does things better than him. He is way better because of Jonah's presence in his life, but at the same time he wishes he wasn't so reliant on his brother to keep him from being shitty, like he can't do good things on his own if someone else isn't shouting at him to do so.

Don't worry about it though. Im sure it won't culminate into anything. :]

#magoriginals #magocs #my oc stuff #original character #original art #my art #my writing #oc questions #oc asks #oc ask game #TYSM FOR THE ASK #Caede Tales #oc: salt #oc: archer #Solar Years #oc: andromeda #<3 HEEHEE <3 #beloved mutuals tag <3 #audience participation

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tangledbea · 2 years

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Hello I can't remember the last time I watched Tangled the movie as well as the tv series but was shocked to find out about the controversies surrounding Chris Sonnenburg and the accusations from the former staff of a toxic work environment. I also read a post that you confronted him about racism within the series and movie. Would you mind telling me what the racist moments were in the series and movie that you pointed out? I want to understand the situation better, thanks.

I'd first like to clarify that I didn't confront him. I wasn't even talking to him. I was having a conversation with someone else, and he commented on it something like, "And here's where I bow out." And then we never saw him on Tumblr again.

As for racist moments, the movie has an all-white cast. Even background characters. There is not a single POC in Tangled, even though there are crowd scenes with hundreds of people in them.

And while there are POC in the series, the Black people are all pretty trope-ish. While I adore Lance, Xavier and Quaid (and Ruthless Ruth), there is still a sense of tokenism to them which I wish the creators hadn’t let happen. Lance is the token black guy in the main cast, who is mostly comic relief and doesn’t get much of a character arc of his own, on top of which, he begins the series as a criminal. Xavier is the magical negro trope. Quaid and Ruth drift away from the tokenism a bit, but they’re still each only there for an insignificant amount of time. (It’s kinda badass that Ruth was a proprietress and Quaid is basically Tangled’s answer to Bass Reeves, though.)

Then there's Madame Canardist. She was created for the movie, but not used (you can spot Vigor in the credits, though), so I can't even blame this entirely on the show (though they could have done something to make her less of a racist caricature). Madame Canardist is a harmful stereotype of a Romani person, frequently and negatively called a g*psy. (That word is as taboo as Esqu*mo and neither should be used.) They are not all fortune-tellers. They are not all mystics. They are not all swindlers. They do not all live in painted wagons. And they are a people who are alive today who are still being persecuted.

Vigor, himself, is a racist stereotype. Psychic monkey in a turban was an oft-used racist caricature for Indian people, back when the mysticism and glamor of the East was all the rage in the US and the UK. The fact that such imagery has persevered to this day shows how little people know or think about the stereotypes.

And then there's the Separatists of Saporia. I have seen people criticize them for being Middle Eastern-based (if nothing else, they are all POC, regardless of what race they are), and having a group of POC take over a predominantly white kingdom in a terrorist move... well, I hope you can see why that's a problem. Even Petunia (the Daylight Thief pretending to be Kiera's mother) is a villain.

The series definitely did better than the movie, in that it included POC at all, but as the saying goes, "They did better, but there's still room for improvement." I acknowledge that there has been progress in the Tangled franchise. But a lot of the issues are a complete tonedeafness to societal issues. I don't think the decisions were necessarily made in malice, but that doesn't mean we can't criticize them.

Before I close this out, I would like to bring up Gothel, and by extension Cassandra. Many people think Gothel is an antisemitic caricature, but I disagree, primarily because her design is based on the looks of Donna Murphy (her voice actor) and Cher, neither of whom are Jewish. Not to mention, the movie was written by a Jewish man, and I find it hard to believe that he would have deliberately written antisemitic tropes into his movie. I think Gothel is an unfortunate coincidence. However, I am also not Jewish, and I am not at all attempting to say that Jewish people who feel slighted are wrong. I have seen convincing arguments both for and against the idea, all from Jewish people, so it's not as if there's a unified front.

#Tangled #Tangled the Series #Lance Strongbow #Xavier the Blacksmith #Quaid #Ruthless Ruth #Madame Canardist #Vigor the Visionary #Separatists of Saporia #Petunia #Mother Gothel #Cassandra #TTS #Analysis #Racism #Answered

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