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just-some-random-blogger · 8 months

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Out Of Luck

"Perhaps I'm not the only one who's going to be wed in King's Landing," Sansa jeers with a grin. I glare at her, "if you weren't my sister, I'd have stabbed you." The girl giggles and takes my arm.

Petyr Baelish & Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader | 3k+ | cw: fem!reader, descriptions of reader (black hair), widow!reader, enemies to lovers?, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: felt right so I'm writing it. Yes, I added Harwin Strong, yes I know it's not canon. It is now in my world 😌 anyway, he's still dead so ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯ Cross posted on AO3!

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @otteropera

"Father" I call with a smile. He spots me and I lift my skirt as I jog up to him.

The man hides what he was holding behind him. He smiles and meets me halfway in the hall. He greets me good morrow when I link my arm with his and kiss his cheek.

"And is that... a very important tool of the Lord Hand?" I tilt my head as I ask, "might I not even see it?"

He sighs and slowly brings the object in front of him. We both look at the brightly dressed doll. My father has an apprehensive look on his face. I hold back a laugh, "ah, a pretty dolly. Are you quite bored of your job already? Do they give dolls to the Hand or were you duped into buying this?"

"I knew you'd say something like this," he mutters.

"If you knew I'd say it, why'd you still get it, papa?" I chuckle.

"I bought it for your sister."

I make a face, "my sister?" I raise a brow, "which between Arya and Sansa do you think would prefer playing with such an ugly dolly?"

He calls my name out.

"What?"

He lowers the doll, "it's not that ugly."

"So even you agree," I snigger, "and yet you still bought it!"

We both begin to walk down the hall.

He warns me, "I'll tell on your mother."

"For what?" I hold back a laugh.

"For calling me papa," he lifts his nose.

I chuckle at the thought. Mother never liked it when I used mama and papa; improper for a lady, she says. I think it's also because when I use it, I pull on their heart strings and manage to make them do my bidding. Twas the gift of the first born.

"I can hear it now," I grin at the man as I squeeze his arm, "Eddard Stark," I motion vaguely, "stripped of his title as Lord Hand for his poor taste in dolls."

My grin widens at the sound if his low laugh. I give a louder laugh, happy to have gotten the reaction I did out of him. It's been a while since I've heard my father chuckle, or anyone from my family, for that matter.

"I wouldn't worry about it, love," father pulls me into his chest, "the king's taste in dolls are surely worse than mine."

I let out a giggle. My father joins in.

I look out the window as we saunter down the hall and turn back to my father when he mutters, "she's changed quite a lot since we've moved here."

He looks at the doll in his hand.

It takes a moment before I smile and give a playful look, "have you seen any of your daughters play with dollies lately, father?"

My words do not work this time. My smile fades at the sight of the line between my father's brows. I mutter softly, "haven't we all changed?"

He turns to me then stops.

I raise my brows. Ned Stark offers me a smile. He takes my hands and shakes his head, "not you, my daughter," he rubs my knuckles with his thumb, "never you."

My heart clenches at his words. I cannot bring myself to smile back because I knew it wasn't true.

"Forgive me for intruding on a private moment."

We both pull away and turn to our side. There we see a blonde doll wrapped in steel. Ser Jaime bows, "Lord Hand, Lady Stark--" he stops himself and lifts his head, "oh, apologies. It's in bad taste for me to call you that."

My father shifts in his spot.

I play it off, "nonsense. I am born of house Stark," I pull my lips into a tight smile, "and my husband is dead."

"Ah, yes," the knight sighs, "poor man. Just had a taste of being one then--" he shakes his head to make his point. He raises a finger, "he was your age, wasn't he?"

I clench my jaw and nod.

Ser Jaime rests a hand on his hilt, "what was his house again?"

Before I can respond, my father blurts, "have you come to rub salt in my daughter's wounds, Kingslayer?"

I turn to my feet with wide eyes. I slowly turn to the see the fuming look on my father's face and whisper, "papa."

Ser Jaime lifts his nose. An smirk masks his face, "not at all, my Lord."

I look back at the kingsguard, not enjoying how quickly tension solidified between us.

"The king demands your presence," growls the Lannister, jaw hardened, golden mane wafting with the breeze.

Father's face is stern but he nods and raises the doll, "I will go to him after I-"

"Get that bloody Ned here now," Jaime speaks. He watches Ned lower the doll. He purses his lips while father's expression sours even more. He shrugs, "King's words, not mine."

In an instant, all the tension in father's body is gone. He looks like he's about to smile and it makes my stomach churn because I knew what that meant. I take the doll from him before anything else. He looks at me and I nod, "I'll give it to Sansa."

He stares me blankly.

"I'll try to force her affection onto the thing," I look at the doll, "maybe she'll let it chaperone us to the tourney later."

I smile at the sound of papa's low laugh.

He nods.

Ned's smile fades when he turns back to Jaime. Jaime gives a wry smile, "I'll escort the lady back to her chambers in her father's stead."

Neither of us decide to argue over it.

Father walks off, eyeing Jaime as he did, and I purse my lips when I turn to him, "I'm actually headed to the library."

"Mmm," he furrows his brows, "then I'm actually headed there too."

We begin to walk down the hall. I laugh as I look at the doll in my hands.

Jaime turns to me upon hearing this. He decides not to note on the ugly doll, "like reading, do you?"

I look at him and smile, "I do."

"You sure you don't go to that musty room to hide from everyone?"

I raise a brow, "you seem to have experience."

"Tyrion was like that," he looks forward, "except father never bought him a doll as a companion."

I look away just as Jaime looks back at me, "does the library match the fantasies of a book lover?"

I chuckle. I turn to his side again. I am unable to stop myself from thinking how dashing his grin at the moment was, "It definitely is as grand as I expected it to be. Winterfell is not blessed with nearly as many tomes."

"The younger Stark girls must not like reading as much as their big sister, considering the ugly thing in your paw," he nods at my direction.

"I'm sure one of them will find use of it," I lift the thing up and look at it. I glance upon Jaime, "oh, goodness. It actually looks quite like you."

Jaime pulls his chin back, "you clearly have issues with your eyes."

"No, it's uncanny. Yellow hair, evil intent."

"Evil intent?" Jaime stops in his tracks, "you mock and slander me," he raises brow and grips his hilt, "I should have your tongue for it."

"Mmm," I turn to him and slowly walk backward, "kingsguard takes the tongue of the Lord Hand's daughter? Sounds like a page out of my books."

He tilts his head, looking me up and down before chuckling as he turns to his feet. He lick his teeth then furrows his brows, "lend me that book once you're done."

We reach the stairwell the connected to the gardens.

I tilt my head and stop in my tracks when I see Sansa and her handmaiden.

"Sansa!" I call, waving at her. She looks at me and waves back.

I turn to Jaime and curtsy, "I have changed my mind, ser," I rise and smile, "I'll be joining my sister in the gardens instead."

Jaime nods and gives a lopsided smile, "very well, my lady. Bid my greetings to the pup. I pray she doesn't get a heart attack from your father's gift."

I chuckle, "she used to have a wolf, you know."

With that, Jaime and I part ways.

Sansa immediately grabs my arm once I am close enough, "what were you doing with Jaime?"

"Ser Jaime Lannister," I correct her, raising a brow, "I didn't know you two were familiar."

"Was he courting you?" Sansa asks as she releases my arm.

I immediately shush her, "do not speak of such things, girl. You know how quickly gossip spreads here." I hand her the doll, "he was escorting me to the library in father's stead."

"This isn't the library-"

"Clearly not."

She takes the doll, "what is this?"

"A gift from father," I grin, "a chaperone to the tourney later."

Sansa glares at me, nearly turning red as her hair. She chucks the doll to the ground and storms away.

I huff and pick up the doll, "Sansa." I follow after her, "it was a joke."

"I haven't played with dollies for years!"

"I know," I rush up to her and grab her arm, "papa bought it for you to try and ease your worries."

She grits her teeth and corrects, "father should just do his job and stop treating me like a little girl." She breaks away from me and moves past me.

"You are a little girl."

"I'm going to be queen one day," she turns to me, "and you won't be able to make fun of me then."

"Sansa, I'm not making fun of you!"

Sansa does not listen and simply walks away.

Her old handmaiden turns to me and smiles. She takes the doll from me, "I'll put this in her room."

I nod and smile.

By the time we were seated for the tourney, Sansa and I made peace by giving the doll to Arya for her to mutilate. All three of us enjoyed the bonding experience very much.

Right now, we were huddled together, pointing at the players. Sansa whispered to me who she thought handsomest and Arya exclaimed over who she thought was strongest. I alternate my attention between them, swooning with one, cheering with the other, but it doesn't take long for them to get into a clash, as always.

They begin to bicker over me and I would have just snapped at them had we not been in public. I instead silence both of them by swooning and cheering for the Hound once we spot him from afar.

Both young Starks gawk at me in disbelief and disgust.

"You can't be serious," Sansa mutters with a pale face.

Arya tilts her head, "I mean, he is pretty big."

I laugh at both of them, "can't I cheer for all the players?"

"No," they say at once.

I tear my gaze from the tourney grounds to look over my shoulder. I gaze upon the crowds, looking to see if father was already here. I mutter to no one in particular, "I wonder what's taking him so long."

"Look," Sansa, on my left, tugs at my arm, "ser Jaime is going to be riding!"

I ignore her and push Arya, who was seated to my right, behind as I crane my neck to look for farther.

Sansa leans on my back and mutters to Arya, "ser Jaime likes her."

Arya grins and looks down at me, "oooh. The lion and the wolf."

I quickly sit up and eye both of them, "shut it, you."

They giggle with each other.

"Father will not be pleased if he hears you are wanting to feed nasty rumors."

"Oh, but nasty rumors are the most intruding, wouldn't you agree, Lady Strong?"

The three of us turn to the man walking over. He stops just below where Arya was sat.

"Or should I say, Lady Stark?" he smiles and nods at me. He looks to my left, "Lady Stark," then to my right, "Lady Stark."

I offer a smile and my first name, "you can simply call me that to avoid confusion, my lord."

"Petyr Baelish," he grins, blue eyes glistening with apparent mischief.

"Lord Baelish," I nod. I squeeze both my sister's hands, prompting both to greet all the same.

Lord Baelish smiles, "I'm glad to finally meet the eldest Stark," he reaches a hand out to me, "the words spoken about your beauty do you no justice."

Both my sisters make a face when I take the man's hand and he leans in to kiss it.

He straightens up and brings his hands behind his back, "my deepest sympathies to you. Lord Harwin Strong left us too soon. I've heard a great many things about Breakbones, how he puts the strong in House Strong."

Arya side eyes Baelish before turning away to look at tourney grounds.

Sansa stares hotly at him as she clutches my arm.

"Thank you, Lord Baelish," I nod and pull a smile, "if it's all the same to you, I'd prefer not to talk about him more than this."

"Of course," he bows. He tilts his head back as he smiles. He walks off and climbs the stairs to get to his seat just behind us.

"Do you know who's going to fight first?" Arya asks as she leans on my lap. I wrap my arm over her shoulders and turn to where she was looking. I spot Jaime speaking to whom was probably his squire from afar.

"Don't worry, little one, they'll announce it," Baelish speaks from behind, making all of us turn to him then back front. When I look back, I see Jaime looking our way.

"I hope ser Jaime starts on our side," Sansa mutters as she leans into me, though her eyes are still fixed on the Lannister.

Arya turns to me and toys with my black hair, "I hope he defeats the Hound to win your affection."

Baelish makes a face upon hearing that.

I snort at the thought then shoot her a half serious face, "shut it."

"I see you girls are fond of the Kingslayer," Baelish says, making us turn back to him again.

Arya side eyes him once more. Sansa looks away, uninterested.

I respond before turning frotn, "he is a rather good swordsman. Or so I hear."

"He usually doesn't play in tourneys. He says he's too good for them," Baelish mutters, "something must have made him change his mind."

"Maybe he's trying to impress someone," Sansa replies, not bothering to look back anymore, "maybe a lady?"

I squeeze her arm when she says this. She does not even spare me a glance.

"Yes," Baelish darting his eyes below him, "perhaps."

We look to the sky when a rumble suddenly cracks.

"What's taking them so long?! It's going to rain, and then the games will be cancelled!" Arya complains.

"They-"

"They're waiting for the king," Baelish replies.

Arya makes a face. I'm the only one that turns back to the man. I smile at his already smiling face then turn to Arya, "papa's not here either. The king is probably making him do something."

Baelish chuckles under his breath, muttering lowly to himself, "papa? How sweet."

Then suddenly, truly out of nowhere, it began to rain.

My sisters and I quickly stand. I immediately grab them and we run off to the nearest place that could offer cover. We head to a tent, but the trouble was, everyone was heading there too.

The rain quickly begins to pour harder.

I do my best to cover Sansa and Arya's head, but my hands could only do so much. The three of us look up when something comes above us.

I feel someone behind me. I turn and see it's Lord Baelish. He's taken his tunic off and used it to cover us.

"Come, my Lady Starks," he speaks over the loud patter of the rain, "I will escort you back inside!"

We turn to him, his dress shirt now dripping and stuck to his form. I nod at him, "thank you, my lord."

"Don't thank me yet," he smirks, face wet with rain, "one of you may yet slip on mud."

Lord Baelish leads the way, uncaring of how wet he's gotten, and offers his arm out to us intermittently. Meanwhile, we hold up his tunic overhead and huddle under it, treading as quickly yet carefully as we can on the mucky ground.

"I do hope the rain does not ruin your fine garb, Lord Baelish," I call as Sansa and I lift our skirts up and do our best not to trip on it.

Arya was very much glad to be wearing pants, and cheerfully steps into puddles without a care in the world.

But then she slips.

Baelish manages to grab her arm before she falls. He pulls her upright and chuckles, "careful now. You wouldn't want to take your sisters down with you."

Arya let's out a hmp when she is released.

"And don't worry about my tunic," he smiles at me, "I'd rather it be ruined than have 3 ladies get sick under my watch."

Sansa gasps and grabs my arm when her heels sink in the wet dirt. I help her keep her footing and smile back at the man, "thank you, Lord Baelish."

"As I said, don't thank me yet. It's still quite a walk to the Keep," he comes to Sansa's side and helps her straighten up, "and call me Petyr."

I part my lips at the thought.

He shakes his head and chuckles, "I insist."

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macabr3-barbi3 · 5 days

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dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

With new abilities comes fun- and some new problems.

SLOW MOVING BUT WE'RE GETTING THERE FOLKS- have a healthy dose of both plot and angst bc I have no self control hehehe

Those that asked to be tagged (if I missed you or tagged by mistake I AM SORRY AHHH)! @fraugwinska (MY LOVE MY DEAR MY MUSE 💛) @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @dennsfz

@bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @martinys-world @minamilinaqueen

Tags: Dream Sex; Dreamsharing; Vaginal Sex; Rough Sex; Light Bondage; Dreamwalking; Clone Sex; Threesome - F/M/M; Tentacles; Overstimulation; Angst

Comments and feedback are always loved and appreciated thank u and enjoy 🫶

In the weeks following Alastor ripping his stitches open, you are careful to avoid his dreams- and his bed- so that he can properly recover this time. After his wound heals, when Alastor starts stepping out for errands away from the Hotel again, you start practicing your newfound abilities.

You nap in your own room at times when Husk is off duty and start small- knocking over bottles on the shelf while he speaks with Angel or Charlie in his dreams. Loosening his bowtie so he has to fix it when it starts dangling off his throat. Replacing the alcohol in his glass with various juices and other liquids- and okay, maybe replacing all of the vodka with water was a step too far, since that’s what eventually made Husk start looking around the lobby in suspicion in his dreams. You just hovered on the outer edges of his consciousness, hidden in the shadows of the lobby and watching, messing with things a bit.

Niffty was next, and under any other circumstances you would have felt bad about conjuring a wave of roaches from the closet she was about to open; the little cyclops had a blast though, pulling out her tiny dagger and stabbing away as she was carted off down the hallway, giggling maniacally. It was during this dream that you realized you could vanish, blend into the background of the dreamscape as easily as Alastor shifted into shadows. Niffty had no clue you were there as she rode the wave of bugs into consciousness.

There was only so much that you could really test without the person knowing about it- you didn’t want to try your luck with Vaggie or Charlie without knowing the extent of your abilities, so you finally cave and ask Alastor for permission to enter his dreams to practice some things; simple conjuring, your disappearing act, just generally testing how much control you really had. He also offered up use of his pocket dimension to test the range of your power, which was the first thing that you did together.

Technically with this knowledge you could have figured out a room in the hotel that would prevent you from being close to anyone as you slept. But who wants to climb those extra sets of steps? Better to just stay in Alastor’s room, you figured.

So here you were, in Alastor’s dream version of the bayou, a clearing in the forest laid before you. “The first thing that we should consider,” he tells you, “is that you may not be the only person with powers such as you have. If this is the case, it’s pertinent that both of us learn to distinguish between what is created by the dreamer’s own mind, and what is conjured with your powers. Duplicate this,” he demands, and when he holds out his hand he has a book that he transfers to you before turning around. You concentrate on it, manifesting an identical copy in your opposite hand. Last second, you swap the hand that holds each book before Alastor turns around and takes them back.

He inspects them closely before he gives you back the one that you had created. “It’s very subtle,” he says with a hum, “but if you look and feel closely you can find the differences. Whether that is a matter of your current lack of experience or a side effect of your powers we’ll have to determine.” You run your hands over both of them, actually inspecting rather than just holding them, and can’t find anything different between them. When you tell Alastor this, he simply provides something else for you to duplicate; a silk robe.

This time when you create yours, you take a moment to feel beyond what is in your hand and you think you know what he’s talking about; there’s something a little less corporeal about it even though it’s solid in your hands, the edges almost a little fuzzy if you look too closely. You focus a little harder to see if you can fix that and the lines of the robe sharpen. Satisfied, you have Alastor turn around again, and this time he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re a quick study.” You repeat the exercise a couple more times, the items increasing in size from a radio to a log, finally stumping Alastor with a duplicated taxidermy raccoon- you bring them both to life, and they scamper about between Alastor’s legs before running off into the bayou, evidently vanishing with a snap of his fingers and then yours.

“Excellent,” Alastor commends you, and you glow with the praise, facing away from him still from having turned to watch the raccoons. “We both can tell how to tell your items from those created by the dreamer- now we’ll see if there’s any distinct difference between the dreamer themselves and, say, a duplicate created as a distraction.”

Your inquiry as to what he means is answered when you turn around to face him, and instead of one Alastor there are two.

The pulse of heat in your core at being caught in two of those predatory gazes was distracting, but you could put it aside. “Got it. So am I trying to figure this out just visually?”

The Radio Demons speak in unison, twin smiles in place. “You may touch, if you think that will help.”

You let out a nervous breath and approach, reaching out to the one on the left and trailing your fingers down his arm, focusing hard. You repeat the action on the demon to the right, and you can tell immediately that this one is the clone- its different from when you created duplicates, but there’s still something that almost tingles under your fingers when you touch it that gives it away, where the real Alastor hadn’t given off a similar sensation. Just to be sure, you run your hand over the expanse of its shoulders, noticing the way that the demon beside you stiffens ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and smile going tense at the way you’re touching it.

An idea clicks into your head- wicked, devious, something that Alastor would surely disapprove of. But with such an opportunity presented, how could you deny the whim?

You stand in Alastor’s space, much closer than you would normally allow yourself, and crane up on your tiptoes to get in his face. “This is the decoy,” you say confidently, and the one that stands behind you speaks instead of the true version.

“What makes you so sure?” Even the voice is ever so slightly off, a tint to the tone of the voice that you only pick up on because you’re listening so closely. “Choose your words carefully, dear, lest you insult me.”

You shrug, tone nonchalant. “There’s just something about this one,” you say towards the real Alastor, stepping back and circling around him, letting your fingers trail along his coat sleeve. “It doesn’t feel quite as… real as you do.” You turn to face the duplicate, startling a bit when it’s closer than you anticipated. “I think I’ve had enough practice touching you in your dreams to know the real thing.”

“Is that so?” Alastor murmurs behind you, and it takes everything in you not to turn at the sound, lean back into him. “Well then, perhaps you’d care to make a little wager?”

“Maybe.” You feel your shoulders stiffen when he presses against you from behind, chest against the expanse of your back and hands settling on your waist. “What do you have in mind?”

Clone Alastor brings its hands up to cup your face. “If you stay convinced that I am the real Alastor,” it whispers, face coming to one side to whisper tenderly in your ear, “then you win. Your reward can be whatever you would like.”

“However! If I manage to break your conviction and change your mind,” Alastor says from the other side. “I win. And if I win, my reward is that you allow me to experiment and test your abilities- both within and outside a dream- to my heart’s content.”

“Hmm.” You could always just lie, you supposed- what way would Alastor have of knowing that you were telling the truth? He couldn’t tell now- this would be an easy win for you. And maybe getting to see Alastor get a little jealous would be a nice bonus. “I accept. I’m pretty convinced though.” Just to really sell the point, you press your hands against the chest of the clone, run them over the fabric, tilt your head up to look into its eyes.

Alastor huffs behind you. “Very well. Perhaps you require a reenactment of the things we’ve done in dreams thus far- just to be sure? Make sure that you really recognize the touch.” His hands come up from your waist to cup your breasts, shirt vanishing at the contact and his thumbs brushing softly over your nipples. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale, the duplicate stepping ever closer and bringing its lips down to meet yours.

There’s an underlying current of static to the kiss, something that doesn’t happen when you kiss Alastor. It’s not unpleasant, and you moan into it, playing it up just a tad for the benefit of the demon that stands behind you, letting a soft tremble take over your body that wasn’t entirely for show.

“What do you think, darling?” Alastor drags his tongue up the length of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your jawline. “Still convinced?” He sucks on the soft skin, almost too hard before pulling back with a kiss to the tender spot. His nimble fingers pluck at the sensitive peaks of your breasts, chest pressing further into the front of the duplicate who licks into your mouth with intent, biting gently at your lips.

“Perhaps you need a bit more to really cement your resolve,” it says into the kiss, bending to nuzzle at your neck on the opposite side from Alastor. “It would be unfair to expect you to guess without all of the same experiences.”

Despite the sensations of pleasure taking over your body, you still find the energy to snark at him, “not guessing. I know.” And twist your fingers into the soft (but not as soft) locks of the clone’s hair, dragging it closer to your skin and grinding your hips against his and the growing erection that you find there.

Snaps sound in unison and their clothes disappear to wherever yours had gone, and a hot length of hardness presses against you from either side- Alastor against the plush curve of your ass and his clone against your pelvis and hip. “By the time I’ve finished,” they say, the static that hisses between them by your head making you dizzy with arousal, “you won’t know anything but my name.”

There are hands sliding down your body then, Alastor slipping a finger into your wetness while his clone thumbs at your clit, both of them gently rutting against your soft skin. You let your head drop back onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the menacing grin that you find on his face forces a shaky exhale from your mouth. “S-seems like a lot of work to change my mind,” you murmur, and he steals your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Nothing with you is ever work, darling,” he whispers when he pulls back, another finger added to your slick cunt, his fingers crooking against the soft bunch of nerves and making you gasp and arch. The clone drops his head from your shoulder trail nips and kisses down your chest, his tongue circling a nipple and sucking lightly. “I think of it more like an investment in my personal entertainment- and pleasure.”

You feel the way you clamp down on his fingers at that, and the clone scrapes his teeth against your sensitive breast- you whimper, reaching down to pull its face up so you can meet his mouth as well. When Alastor growls behind you, you ask, “what? Equal screen time is only fair.”

His smile turns treacherous. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, dear- I plan to hold you to it.”

With that his fingers leave you, arousal dripping to the forest floor as his hands come to your shoulders and pull, the same moment that the clone grips your legs and lifts, automatically wrapping them around your waist so you don’t fall. You’re left in the position of some kind of odd bridge between them, left staring up at the stars through the canopy of the trees in the bayou, the questioning of it dying on your lips when the thick cock of the clone pushes into you- slowly, relentlessly, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you with his claws digging into the flesh of your hips.

If you hadn’t already been aware that the demon behind you was the real one, the way he hisses through his teeth would have given him away- Alastor can feel it, you know he can, the tight grip of your walls clenching down on the clone’s length somehow happening in duplicate on him, his hands tightening their hold on your upper body where you lean into his chest. And this, at least, doesn’t feel too different from the real thing; the second Radio Demon fills you perfectly, hips pressed flush to yours before pulling back and bucking forward again, a shock of pleasure that ripples through your body and forces a cry from your lips. The angle of the way they’re holding you pushes him right against the sweet spot inside.

When a couple of claw tipped fingers come down to press against your clit in soft circles you’re done for, the strength of your orgasm causing you to whimper and drop your head back against Alastor’s chest, body tensing and shaking as the clone rides out the waves of it. You wait for his release but it doesn’t come- no flood of heat inside of you or spilling onto your exposed skin. Your eyes open, watching the clone through blurry eyes and trying to raise your head up.

Your body is shifting then, shadows emerging from both demons to effectively flip you in the opposite direction, clinging to the duplicate’s chest now as Alastor presses his erection against you again, a couple tendrils of darkness wrapped securely around your waist and legs to support you from below. “What-”

“It’s not a fair game if we don’t both get a turn,” says the Alastor in front of you, grin dangerous as he whispers against your forehead, and you’re being entered again, faster this time since you’re already slick and open and ready for him. The force of it punches the air out of your lungs, exhaling wetly into the chest of the dream manifestation before you.

Claws dig into you, sinfully delicious little marks that you know will appear on your body when you awaken. “Or two turns,” comes Alastor’s staticky voice behind you- or, maybe in front of you? With your eyes clenched shut and your focus so completely on the pleasure being wrung from your body, you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, which one of them is speaking. You had thought there was a difference in the way they sounded but-

“Maybe three.”

“Four, even. Equal screen time and all that, like you said. Until we’ve had our fill and you’re absolutely certain which of us is which.” This is accompanied by a sharp thrust of Alastor’s hips, the slapping sound of skin overwhelming in the relative quiet of the bayou. It’s loud and lewd and arousing as anything as he fucks into you, your cunt clamping down with a fierce single-mindedness to keep him inside of you, even as the wetness it creates eases the slide out and back into your body.

“What do you think, dearest?” You can’t even tell which one is speaking any longer, your mouth lolled open against the bare chest of the clone who sweeps a comforting hand over your hair as the real deal fucks you into a cock drunk stupor. “You’re still sure which of us is the duplicate?”

“Y-yes,” you manage, but only because you know that when you started the dream version of Alastor was in front of you. You dig your fingers into his neck and moan, high and unashamed, and feel claws pierce the skin of your hips, a rumbling growl tearing itself from Alastor’s chest. “I- I would know the real thing anywhere- this,” you say, with a forceful, intentional clench around him, knowing you’ll regret this when you wake and all of the aches and bruises appear on your real life body, “is a p-poor imitation .”

He snarls, and you see the shadows of his antlers grow in your peripheral vision. “This poor imitation is going to make you cum, sweetheart, how does that sound?”

“Like a challenge.”

His laugh is dark, one of the shadows coming up from below you to push and grind hard against your clit above where you’re speared on his length. “Th-that’s cheating!” You cry out; the feeling is intense, almost too soon after your last orgasm, pleasure that teeters on the edge of painful . The clone holds you tighter against his chest, soothing touches to your back and head as you’re made to take the cock inside of you and the tentacle thing that plays you with a mindless conviction. “Oh, God, fuck -”

“You forget that I play to win,” he says simply, his speed increasing, and another tendril of shadow slips into you alongside his cock, narrow and squirming in a different rhythm. “The method matters little if the end result is what I want.”

You choke a little when this orgasm hits you, vision darkening on the edges as your body seizes in his grasp, jerking uncontrollably as the force of it slams into you. Again, there’s no spilling of warmth inside your pussy, Alastor’s release once again postponed for whatever reason.

They pass you back and forth like this for a couple more rounds, each time growing more fervent and rough in their handling of your body while they are inside you, only to brush your hair back from your face and whisper sweet, filthy words into your ear while you cling to their arms and your sanity. Your body is drenched in sweat, inner thighs coated in the evidence of your arousal and orgasms- limbs trembling with the effort to keep your head up and your eyes open. You can’t tell them apart by touch anymore, a hand on your body at any given time as they switch your position and pass you between each other, your mind completely gone as you cum another time, body twitching with the pair of them holding you through it.

Immediately after, you lose the comforting presence on either end of your body when both of them step away from you, another couple of tentacles wrapping around you to keep you still as you pant and shake, body weak and trembling. “Alastor?” They’ve both slipped into the shadows, a whirl of noise in the space around you, and when you open your eyes they’re rematerializing- and fuck, you’re already so overly stimulated that you can’t tell them apart by sight alone either, vision still blurry from the power of your last release. The shadows make a sort of shelf beneath you, allowing you to drop your head back into the gentle embrace of something soft and billowy.

They speak in unison now as they approach. “Final determination now, darling,” they say, a hand on either hip. “Which of us is the real thing?”

The wager is the last thing on your mind as you turn towards him, desperate for the more solid connection that the real Radio Demon provides in the dream scene. “Alastor,” you whine, reaching for him, digging your nails into what you can reach if his arm. “Please-“

His smile is devious when the duplicate disappears with a puff of smoke and he slots himself between your legs, pushing forward with a sharp snap that has you keening, head falling back as his claws push into the plush flesh of your hips. “It would appear,” he murmurs, “that you’ve lost the wager, dearest- you’ve changed your mind.”

“Don’t care,” you cry out, grip ironclad where you hold him, spare hand coming up to hold his shoulder like a vice. “Please, Alastor, I’m- I can’t go again, please.” Your body is aching and sore, muscles trembling from how many times they’ve tensed and released and shuddered through an orgasm at his hands. You don’t think that you can do it again; it might honestly shove you from the realm of the dream with how overwhelmed you are.

“Darling, darling,” he whispers, drawing his hips back and pushing forward in a steady rhythm, letting his hands run over your hands wherever he can reach and letting a tentacle reach up to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’ve got one more for me, I’m sure of it. Cum for me one more time, sweetness- let me feel you after taking us both and show you much better the real thing is when I flood your cunt with my release.”

Your stomach swoops with sharp arousal- you’ll never get enough of him talking like that, all traces of the prim and proper Radio Demon gone when he’s desperate to orgasm, buried inside your cunt with no radio filter and no thoughts in that lovely head but to drag you over the edge with him. An edge that, currently, is far too close and threatening to destroy you. “Al- Alastor, please, I can’t,” even as the tension pulls ever tighter, the tentacle at the apex of your thighs unrelenting in its focus, legs shaking uncontrollably where Alastor has wrapped them around his waist, his own steady rhythm stuttering.

“With me, sweetheart,” he says, and the words are tinted like a plea, like he needs it. “Cum with me-” He bends down over you, tongue sliding against yours in your mouth before he turns, teeth sinking into your neck as he spends himself with a muffled groan against your skin, pulses of wet warmth inside of you that have you crying out into the silence of the bayou when your own orgasm tears through you.

You’re shattering- splintering into fractals of consciousness as you’re torn from the space of the dream.

You don’t immediately wake though- pleasure jolts through you with the force of an arc flash but somehow you’re still asleep, flashes of something zipping by you as your- spirit? Soul? Whatever you currently were, you were catching glimpses along your peripheral vision as you moved; scenes of Alastor’s dreams, moments of his life, his face non-smiling and dark, covered in blood, a bullet hole between his eyes, and there was his mother again, as she had been in the first dream you had seen her.

You feel like taffy, being stretched and compressed hundreds of times over the span of what couldn’t be more than a few moments. You don’t think these are things that Alastor is currently seeing or dreaming about, which means that somehow you’ve gone further into his consciousness than his dreams- you might even be in his subconscious, you think, as you see snippets of a memory with Husker, eyes angry and hurt; Niffty, dirty and bloodstained as Alastor offers her a hand; yourself, the way that he had seen you in the dream with his mother, eyes wide and frightened when you had stepped on the stick that gave your position away.

And then there’s more of you, moments that he had apparently been observing you when you weren’t aware. It’s from his own point of view, eyes dropping down to your hand where it rests on Angel’s forearm at the bar, tracing the line of your arm where it’s draped affectionately over Charlie’s shoulder. He’s watched you everywhere, scenes of yourself in front of the fireplace in his room, curled up on a lobby couch, sitting in the main office with plans for guest events laid out before you, an irritated crease in your brow. You see yourself sleeping in the bed in his room where he had apparently stood over you, a clawed finger reaching out to brush your hair back from your face; there’s a rumbling of speech that you can’t make out as he says something and you stir in your sleep, face going slack with a small smile taking over your features.

The scene fades, and the sharp pleasure of your explosive orgasm returns with force, your eyes opening in reality with a choked off cry as your body trembles with the aftershocks of it, hand digging into Alastor’s arm where he lays next to you. The overwhelming feeling fades finally, and your muscles go slack against the mattress, finally turning to look at him.

His eyebrows are creased in concentration, smile still present but a bit strained. “Where were you?” He asks softly, and when you cock your head a bit he clarifies- “I was awake. But you were… elsewhere, it would seem.”

You don’t think he’ll appreciate you being in his mind like you were, but you don’t have many other options as far as figuring out what the fuck that was. “I think I was… in your head? Like your thoughts and memories. Sorry,” you add as an afterthought. “I didn’t mean to- I’m still learning, I don’t really understand what happened-”

“You were in my mind despite my being awake?” Alastor doesn’t look upset at the revelation- rather, he looks intrigued. “It seems that your power is changing- how entertaining!” He jumps up from the bed, the clothes he had fallen asleep in rumpled and wrinkled. He doesn’t seem to care as he starts pacing around the bed. “This is all speculation of course, but it would seem to me that the excessive stimulation in my dream has caused another bond to form with your powers- no longer just between your physical and dream forms, but between your powers and the real world. Fascinating!” His grin is wide, manic when he looks back at you. “And what perfect timing, now that I’ve won a wager that allows me all sorts of rights to experimentation with your powers and abilities. We’re going to have such fun with this, darling-” He continues to ramble and you watch him pace as he does, one turn allowing something to catch your eye.

A bruise on Alastor’s collarbone- where you had held him in the dream, your thumb digging into the skin that covered the bone, apparently hard enough to leave a mark. None of the marks you had left on him in the past had ever manifested like this in the real world; his theory about the links between your dream self and reality seeming more plausible, if you could inflict something physical on him from a dream.

Might as well tell him now. “Alastor,” you interrupt him, and rise from the bed to stand before him, brushing your thumb over the discolored flesh. “Look-”

His eyes go dark, dials flickering when he grins down at you. “Another mystery to experiment with,” he says. “We’ll have to determine if the ability to leave physical alterations is limited to just myself- since you spend the most time in my dreams, I would presume your powers have developed a sort of bond to my mind- or if you could do this to others.”

Your hands freeze on his chest. “What do you mean, ‘others?’ I don’t- I’m not doing anything like this with anyone else.”

“No need to worry, dearest, I didn’t mean the more intimate aspects! I merely meant markings in general- say, if you were to cut someone with your claws, or take a bite from them. Would that manifest in the real world?” His antlers expand, green stitches appearing at the edges of his smile. “Imagine the ease of being able to kill someone in a dream without ever having to be in the room! Oh, the possibilities are thrilling-”

“I’m not doing that.” You let your touch fall from his skin, taking a step back at the clear delight on his face in thinking about you killing someone. “That’s… that’s not what I’m here for, Alastor, I don’t want to use my power like that.”

“You would rather waste your potential? Regardless, we had a wager, my dear, one that you lost- it was made in a dream but it’s still binding. For the sake of experimenting you’ll do whatever I ask of you; that was the condition, was it not?” Something green glows in his hands- not a chain like you had seen on others with a legitimate soul deal, but something like a rope, a leash. He tugs on it gently, enough to make you lose your balance and stumble forward where it pulls at your wrist.

This was the Alastor you had seen in the first dreams of his- ruthless, bloodthirsty, angry. Gone was the softer version of him that you had come accustomed to, the one you had glimpsed in the dream with his mother, in the memories you had seen. You needed to get away-

No sooner had the thought come than there was a blast of light from your palms, startling Alastor into releasing the cord that tied you to him. Your steps falter backwards and put space between the two of you, no time to think about what had just happened; the hurt look in Alastor’s eyes is the last thing that you see before you turn and bolt from the room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/142955671

#alastor x reader #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #simp shit <3 #x reader #DREAM DEMON #asldfkjasldkf I love this story so much #having a great time

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sinsinsininning · 4 months

Text

A little bit softer

Chapter 2.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: depictions of DV, descriptions of medical terms and procedures, not as smutty

A/N: I don’t know why but l always have to make my reader inserts or OCs a medic in some way……It’s probably bc I’m a vet tech.

~~~~~~

Kid felt… guilty, which wasn’t a normal thing for him. Suspecting you were scared of him was one thing. But knowing you were scared of him was another entirely.

He wanted to shake himself some days, you were just a rookie. Not his lover. Not his partner. He didn’t owe you anything. But then he’d ruin his own pep talk by thinking of you and your face.

After your conversation with Heat, Kid walked on eggshells around you. The entire crew was still trying their damnedest to meddle with him, so encounters with you had ramped up a lot. You both still did your best to avoid eye contact or speak to him. But it was clearly starting to wear on the crew’s patience.

“You need to handle your shit.” Killer said to him one day in his workshop. Kid couldn’t even pretend not to know what he was on about.

“You need to fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his shoulders shake.

“Just talk with her, you never know, maybe she likes you as well.”

Kid burst out in hysterical laughter, needing a few moments to catch his breath.

“She’s terrified of me Killer,” He coughed. “She thinks I’m gonna hit her or something. I heard her telling Heat.” Killer cocked his head, thinking.

“All the more reason to clear the air. What’s more is I can’t have the crew keep trying to pair the two of you up, it’s getting in the way of their tasks.” Kid fixed him with a glare.

“Newsflash, asshole! You were the one who started that shit!” He turned back to his table. “Besides the fuck am I gonna say to make her feel better? Huh?”

“That’s true, you’re not good with words.” Killer nodded and began approaching him. “You’ll just have to use your actions.” Kid laughed.

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna do that?” He asked sarcastically before a sharp pain flared in his right arm. “Ow what the fuck?!”

Killer had cut his arm, a deep laceration at least 5 inches long. The masked man shrugged at his shouting.

“She’s in the med bay, go up there, tell her you got cut while working. Ask her to patch you up.”

“Fuck you this stings!” Kid pressed a used rag to his arm. “I’ll fucking stab you.”

“She won’t be there much longer. Tell her you can’t find me and you can’t stitch yourself with one hand.” Killer took that moment leave, Kid stood there fuming for a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay down here and fix it later, just to piss Killer off.

But a stronger part of him wanted to see you, hopefully you wouldn’t run or hide. He made his way slowly to the med bay, almost hoping you’d be gone. As he entered he saw how unlucky he was.

You had your back to him, wiping down the machines that sterilized the suturing materials and other rudimentary instruments. He coughed to get your attention, keeping his injured arm hidden behind the doorframe.

“Hip are you don- oh!” He hated how tense you became, you soft stomach clenching in worry. “Sorry captain, I thought Hip was done with the mop. What can I do for you?” He showed you his arm and felt a small bit better as you gasped with worry.

The rag he’s used to staunch the bleeding made it look worse than it was, but it had dried a little and was now stuck to his skin. You motioned for him to sit on the chair by the table.

“How’d that happen?” You asked, trying to gently peel the rag off.

“Was working and it just kinda happened.” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lie to you. “Don’t know where Killer is and I can’t sew with only one hand.” Still not lies technically.

“Gotcha.” You’re all business and he feels a little flush at the sight of you zipping around the room gathering materials. “Well it’s not too bad, really deep though. I’ll numb it, suture it really quick and you should be on your way.” Any trace of fear or anxiety was gone, your posture alert but relaxed, you soft face was focused.

“Take your time.” Kid drawled, enjoying the view, didn’t hurt that your ass looked good as you bent over to grab something under the desk. Your ass always looked good he decided. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” You return with a small syringe, some type of numbing drug he assumed. “You’re the captain, you probably got plenty of stuff to be doing.”

He didn’t respond, the injection you gave him stung so he had to bite back his swears about it. Neither of you spoke as you worked. You had to stand pretty close to place the sutures, your hands cold but soft as you touched him.

You shivered at one point and Kid realized, horrifically, that he’d leaned to far forward to watch your hands. You glanced up at him, caught his gaze and shuffled a bit further back. He wanted to growl as he saw how tense you’d gotten, your soft apology only making him more frustrated.

You were halfway done and he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So.” You tensed again, he could see it in your neck especially. “I never did ask… who was your old captain?” You jabbed the needle a bit harder at the question, obviously not on purpose as you profusely apologized. He ignored and continued to stare until you answered.

“His- um. His name is um… It’s Badger. Captain Badger.” You try to focus once more.

“How long did you sail with him?”

“2 years.”

“How big was the crew?”

“About 15.”

“Where’d you sail?”

“West Blue.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Um.” You were almost shaking, he almost hesitated.

“Why’d you leave his crew?”

“What does it matter?” Oh that was a response, he grinned, anger was better than fear. At least in his book.

“Answer the question. It’s important for me to know.”

“You never needed to know before. Why now?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” He leans forward more, meeting your heated glare as you tied the final knot. “You’ve got some peculiar habits, I’d like to know more about that.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

He nodded.

“Like on deck or like…. In my room?”

“Not like that you pervert!” He can’t help but shout, you don’t flinch though. A small grin on your face as you successfully get him off the topic.

“So not my room or the showers? Just to clarify.” He knows he’s blushing but he still growls and stands to his full height. You step back but he follows you, a look of fear in your eyes takes over the glee. But he can’t stop himself from continuing.

“You’re clever, but I still need an answer.” He crowds your space, placing both hands on the counter behind you, caging your body with his. He leans forward, letting his breath fan over your ear. “Why did you leave?”

You stay silent, face red and a little sweaty, he pulls back just enough to admire the sight. He can’t make a reassuring face to save his life, but he tries as tears fill up your eyes. Still, he can’t stop, he needs this. You need this.

“If you are unhappy with my performance or skills, tell me and I will fix them. I haven’t brought any bad habits on board. I assure you.” You finally answer, your words felt warm against his face, he grinned some more.

“Uh-uh you see, one of those habits, the only one really,” His grin drops from his face. “Is that you’re scared of your captain.” You pale at his words and start to shake a little. He continues, drawing back slightly.

“That’s something he taught you, right?” He tilted his head a little. “To be scared of your captain. Because you never know when he’ll just up hit you, right?” He parroted your words from the bar back to you. Your eyes are wide with recognition.

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “I know I’m scary, it’s my whole deal. I’m a scary pirate who murders and pillage. But my crew is mine. Understood. I don’t let anyone harm them, especially not myself.” You lean back into the counter more.

“You hurt Wire. You made him need staples and you didn’t even seem sorry. You didn’t help patch him up.” Kid knew this was coming, he still didn’t know what to say.

“It was a mistake,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hit him, but you’re right. I should’ve check on him and made sure he wasn’t hurt.” It was hard to admit he was wrong, but in the small medical room, to you, it was a little easier.

Both of you stayed quiet for a while. He made no move to let you go. And you made no move to try. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually stopped you if you did. Finally, the tension in you jaw and shoulders eased, just a little.

“Badger… was bad. He didn’t just hit us. He stole from us and wouldn’t let us leave, even if some managed to escape they’d have no Beris. It’d be like starting from scratch, but worse because if he caught you he’d kill you.” You paused, taking a big breath, turning to stare at the wall. “I was secretly saving Beris, to hopefully run off and be able to hide from him. I didn’t have much, barely anything. One day he came and told me he wanted me to be his… wife.” Kid stood up straight, leaning back like he’d been struck, you continued barely noticing him.

“I told him no, I should’ve said yes and bided my time. Maybe I could’ve taken more people with me, but I was an idiot.”

“No that’s not-“ You cut him off.

“He threw a fit, tried to kill me. His devil fruit power nullifies weapons, so I couldn’t fight back. I tried to stage a mutiny, but everyone was too afraid, he’d never lost a fight. Eventually I jumped over board and swam to shore. I hid on a marine ship, I never had a bounty so I just pretended to be some girl who wanted to travel. I flirted with some of them and got a ride to a port a few islands over.” You sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate you. “I had no Beris or even clothes. But I overheard some rookies talking about joining your crew. I figured it was the safest option. So I spoke with Killer and here I am.” You trailed off quietly, tears still hadn’t fallen yet, it was almost impressive.

Kid didn’t speak for several long minutes, just watching you hold your breath. Finally he pushed off the counter, giving you both some breathing room. He began to exit when you called out.

“Captain what are you doing?”

He turned with a scowl.

“I’m setting a course to go murder that asshole.”

“What? Why that’s so far off our course.”

“I told you, you’re my crew. We’re gonna go murder him, then if any of your old friends wanna join the crew they can.” He laughed at your shocked face. When he’d caught his breath he turned again to leave.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader

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thirstydemisexual · 2 months

Note

May I have something with Buggy being hopelessly in love with someone that both Crocodile and Mihawk are casually trying to pursue as well? I would love a typical “Two people betting with each other who can seduce someone faster, being so sure that they will sweep them off their feet- “Oh I am really flattered, but actually I’m interested in Buggy” scenario here.

Would love to see Buggy happy-ugly-crying (even uglier than usual) when he finds out because???? He WON!??? AGAINST SIR CROCODILE AND MIHAWK??? While said men are witnessing this weird spectacle from afar, for the most part being good natured about it and not holding a grudge, but also being highly confused because… Buggy? Neither of them even considered Buggy a plausible option for reader insert. Neither of them would have ever looked at each other and even speculated that their rival in this wooing contest might be the damn clown. Eh, can’t win them all. (And maybe they dodged a bullet here because if they choose the clown they must be completly out of their mind)

AHHHHH it's so giving The Grinch x Martha may and I LOVE IT! THAT DYNAMIC IS GOLD, hope you like this, I know it's not really my best work :/ been recovering from a bad fall. But I had fun writing this 🫶

HOPELESS🔪🤡|| Buggy x gn!reader

✦being in the cross guild was the most bizarre thing that happened in your life, sure living in a world where people ate devil’s fruit and gained power was bizarre enough… but working in group with Crocodile, Mihawk and Buggy of all people was so much out of your comfort zone that even the marines were surprised you were involved in the guilt. You were known to be a lone wolf like Mihawk, with no crew and no known attachment to other people, so you grouping up with somebody was a first.

✦in truth it wasn't really that you didn't like working with people, it was more tho that you had troubling understanding people intentions, you were stabbed in the back way too often for you to willingly put yourself in that position

BUT

✦ You really liked Buggy, having had a crush on him for years and you were dead set on pursuing him, what better way to spend time with him than working with him and gaining power and notoriety as well? And Mihawk and Crocodile, were not really your favorite people but you were willing to put up with them, but they were very much pushing the line with how much they abused the poor clown

✦You are considered as one of the most powerful and beautiful people of the seven seas, you were strong and reliable and very loyal it was no wonder to Buggy that Mihawk and Crocodile were dead set on pursuing you. They had been competing with each other for your attention since you all grouped up, and he couldn’t blame them. You are wonderful, and so full of charm, he fell for you long ago but his insecurities got in the way. NO ABSOLUTE WAY A GOD/GODDESS LIKE THEM LIKES SOMEONE LIKE HIM. Especially over THE Mihawk and THE Sir Crocodile.

✦He felt like he had absolutely no chances

✦ Somehow you were clueless, both to his interest and to the advances of the other two. Which was surprising with how much they were flaunting themselves over you.

✦ It was Valentine's day and Crocodile and Mihawk had had a staring contest all day while showering you with gifts. You had thought they were doing it only in a friendly way, and gladly accepted the lavish gift they proposed you but to them it seemed you reciprocated both of them which didn’t sit right them

✦ Buggy spent all day looking longingly at you, the chocolates he clumsy made for you in an attempt to finally ask you out sitting in his back pocket. He was sure you were going to pick one of the others instead of him.

✦ at the end of the work day Mihawk and Crocodile confront you, Buggy sitting on thebopposite corner of the room with a glass of rum clutched in his hands.

"Will you share a wine bottle with me tonight?" Asks Mihawk

"No, they won't. I arranged for us for the finest restaurant in town" interjects Sir Crocodile

✦ that's when you realize their affection is not really platonic

"Ehm, actually I was thinking of asking Buggy" you reply blushing hard

Buggy chokes on his drink, face turning as red as his nose under the face paint.

You rush to him to pat on his back trying to help him stop the fit of cough that the chocking caused

"Asking me what?" He's very confused because you can't POSSIBLY be meaning what he hopes.

That's when you shyly offer him a paper bag he hadn't noticed you having before.

"Come on, open it"

✦ Under the bright red tissue paper he finds a chocolate box and a beautiful ornate dagger, with blue and red gems embezzled in it

"The gems reminded me of you" you told, a bit unsure. His face had pure shock and rended him in silence, you didn't know if it was a good sign.

✦ after a second his eyes glass over and he asks in an almost whiny tone

"You were thinking of me?" at that you giggle

"Of course silly! Will you be my Valentine?"

At this point Crocodile and Mihawk are just awkwardly standing there 🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️... like were they blind? of course those two idiots loved each other

✦ "FUCK YESS!" Buggy basically trows yourself at you and brings you into a soaring kiss. His ego boosting. He envelops you with an arm while he detaches the other end to go to the two standing there while pointing the middle finger

✦ and you can't do anything other than blush and giggle into the kiss because gods he's an idiot, but you love him for it

#NO BETA WE DIE LIKE ACE

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #captain buggy #op buggy #opla buggy #cross guild #mihawk #sir crocodile #buggy x gn!reader

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imperiuswrecked · 6 months

Note

pssst can i please ask you to spoiler the raven baby reveal to me...?

So the summary of X-Men Blue: Origins (2023) Mystique is wandering around New York acting crazy and mumbling about her lost baby, Kurt catches up with her and tries to talk her into calming down.

Kurt gives Raven his sword which breaks the mental barriers and it's revealed that while Raven was married to Baron Wagner, she and Irene were an on again, off again, couple who would hook up with other people whenever it helped their goals.

Raven had hired Irene to be the housemaid so she could stay close while Raven was married to Wagner, using his money/influence as they wanted and having a torrid love affair with Irene in private. Azazel shows up and Irene encouraged Raven to have an affair with him as well, because she had visions of the future.

Basically Irene wanted a love child with Raven, but needed Azazel to believe he was the father because she knew that unless Kurt was set on a path to be his constant foe/destroyer of his plans then Azazel would rise to power.

Irene's visions aren't something she can stop and she lives her life according to how to bring about her visions but she doesn't tell Raven any of this until 5 years after Kurt's birth. So she and Raven have a child, Kurt, and from my understanding of the reading, Mystique can copy the genes down to a molecular level and took the gene patterns from Azazel and Baron Wagner and impregnated Irene. So Kurt doesn't have 2 parents, he has 4, well 5 including Margali Szardos who was his adopted mom. Kurt is now battling for the #1 spot for "most parents and most confusing parental origin in comics" and he's up against the Maximoff twins who have gone through 3 sets of parents.

Back to the story, Raven dumps Azazel who is such a pathetic loser, I love that lol. Raven fakes being pregnant by shapeshifting to look like she is pregnant as the months go by. Baron Wagner discovers his wife's affairs, and being the homophobe he is, is stabbed by Raven who then spends the next few months switching between forms to make people believe that the Baron and his wife are both still around, waiting until Irene gives birth. I'm guessing because Raven intended to use the Baron's money/pretending to be him so she and Irene could live in comfort or until they wanted to move on.

Irene is the one who gives birth to Kurt, and Raven overcome with joy/love for Kurt doesn't want his first sight of her to be human so she reveals herself.

The townspeople are of course in an uproar, want to kill the demon woman and her demon child, Irene tells Raven to get to safety and that she would be ok, but Raven fears for Irene so she leaves Kurt under a tree and rushes back to kill the people who would hurt her wife and discovers Irene is missing, she runs back to find Kurt and he's gone too.

Five years pass and she finds Irene again, this time watching a young Rogue, Irene reveals everything to Raven, the Azazel vision, Irene needed Kurt to be raised as an outcast etc. Raven and Irene both know they are in a toxic relationship, but they love each other too much so they went to the one man who can make everything worse, Charles Xavier. Of course Xavier does what he does best, erases people's memories and implants new ones.

So now Kurt has 2 deadbeat mutant moms, 1 deadbeat demonic mutant father, 1 dead human father, and 1 adopted mother and they all give him the most drama & trauma that you will ever see in comics! Love wins (?)

I am currently taking donations to hire Kurt a therapist (who isn't Professor X), save an elf's sanity and donate /jk

I will say that this origin, though very messy, does at least confirm that Irene is just as messy/toxic as Raven, so I hope they continue to be totally bad for each other and 100% in love, which is very refreshing to see in wlw couples and I really hope they do not try to soften their edges, especially Raven's, I do not want a "good mother Raven", but time will tell. Also finally Kurt is Baron Wagner's son technically due to partially copied genetics so it finally makes sense for why Kurt has the Wagner last name, which is something that always bugged me, because imo if he had zero connection to the Baron then he wouldn't have the Wagner last name. Also this doesn't invalidate the Azazel retcon from before because again technically Azazel believes Kurt is his son, and Kurt does have partially copied genetics from Azazel.

I think it was a really tough balancing act to have to write, I wish it could have been written a bit better or the thoughts of Rogue actually being Irene/Raven's daughter would have worked better. Like imagine if Raven and Irene were both pregnant, Irene had Rogue and Raven had Nightcrawler or Irene had them both as twins, then they wouldn't just be foster/adopted siblings but also bio siblings, and it could have opened up the door for more stories involving them as brother and sister trying to deal with their mothers. Marvel constantly ignores the potential for Rogue and Kurt's sibling dynamic and I wish we got more of it in the comics. I get that the writer was trying to keep to the old canon while creating the new canon and using the original plan for Kurt's parentage, so while I feel it's way too complicated this is also comics where complicated plots and retcons have been a long standing tradition meant to torment us readers.

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #mystique #raven darkholme #irene adler #destiny #baron wagner #darkholme family #rogue #azazel #imp answers #wednesday spoilers #x men

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banamine-bananime · 2 months

Text

AITA for trying to save my friend and keep the rest of my asshole friends safe from their bad decisions?

I (M26) just went through this real shitty breakup. So basically, my ex C (M lmao man fuck if i know his age idek if knows it. or has one i guess) has this god-fucking-awful habit of deciding to solve every problem by dying about it and/or fucking off without so much as a word to the people unfortunate enough to give a shit about him, except maybe his sister (unhelpful for the rest of us because she also inherited the "fucking off without a word" gene. man fuck this whole family for making me care about them. whatever). Also, killing himself inside peoples brains thats like a whole hobby for him. like okay either ghost us OR kill yourself in front of us altering the trajectory of our lives forever PICK ONE like a NORMAL person.

Okay wait im not explaining this well. So years ago C and W (M37 now) were partners but C was, uh, in a really bad place mentally (S is telling me this is more diplomatic to say than "crazy af") and that situationship ended as badly as a situationship can end. I mean W's told me he pretty much had his sense of identity as someone separate from C totally destroyed by that for a while, which like, in hindsight its kinda an accidental dick move that our team made him take C's legal identity, but in our defense a) the fuck were we supposed to know?, b) tbf he really did need it not to go back to prison, c) it's not like C was using his identity, on account of the fucking off and effectively-dying-as-a-solution habits, and d) i mean. i gotta admit it's also pretty funny in a really fucked way.

aw shit derailed on a tangent again

recently its just like, we just get so focused on one thing its hard to remember anything else, you know?

S is so good at getting us back on track though. thank god because you would not believe the number of irons weve got in the fire to keep track of, its ridiculous. (i love making my partner be the planner in the relationship lol. highly recommend being a passenger princess in the body sometimes. fuck massages, i'm telling you THIS is what you need after a long day getting shit DONE and taking care of everyone else's messes)

So I met C 6 years ago, right out of basic, when we were privates stationed at the same base. middle of nowhere. shit, this is gonna be hard to explain, just realized i should use different names for C to keep them straight. I knew "A" and W knew "E", i didnt meet E until years later. theyre alters and also the same guy but also not the same guy. dont worry about it if you dont get it bc ive dated both of them and i dont think i do. my life is stupid.

Bunch of bullshit happened, A ghosted (lol. you'd be high-fiving me if you knew him) and then found a problem to solve by dying. you get it by now.

Then i meet E, E encounters a problem and tries to die about it round one (i guess round two, after exploding in W <- LOL. you should be high-fiving me right now), E's sister drags him back to the land of the living, E ghosts, W and i start dating, W tries to martyr himself and disappears because i guess E rubbed off on him (dude i am on a fucking roll. you should be high-fiving me out of pity for my glamorously miserable soap-opera life if nothing else. homophobic not to), our team gets W back, E strolls back like he has no idea why im mad at him, we fight about it, makeup-makeouts about it, and E tries to die about it round two: in my brain boogaloo.

So thats how S and i meet. oops, guess i never introduced S? Feels weird to have to introduce ourself twice, people dont really meet us separately anymore LOL. S (M, ageless) is also C's alter, my partner in life and badassery and brain and body. and obviously freaky sex stuff, that goes without saying but i'm saying it anyway to brag. the swish swish to my stabbing people who really deserve it. Not really interested in your opinion on our relationship, it's not what i'm asking about. we're aware its not conventional, because we're not fucking braindead. Im so sick of all the "oooohhhhh this isn't healthy", "he's a male manipulator and youre codependent i know bc i learned psychology from tiktoks by girls with green hair", "why are you wearing your ex-boyfriend's armor colors while wearing his dead ex-boyfriend's armor while dating and sharing a brain with your dead mutual ex's alter", "have you considered going to therapy instead of a quest against death itself" blah blah blah. If youre so bored you need to judge our life then just get your own 🙄🙄🙄

we've been really on that sigma grindset the last few weeks. S has got our sleep optimized down to a tight triphasic 3.46 hours and we're minmaxing the fuck out of the rest of every day. Biohacked to shit over here. too much to do, so we have to make there be enough of our time to do it. who else is gonna? my teammates? the REDS? we're half batman half babysitter to a gaggle of idiots who can barely be trusted to wipe their own asses, let alone fight their own battles and make decisions like "wah wah wah A is dead let's just give up and cry about it or whatever".

Don't even get me started on W. Oh youre all about character-building wake up and grind self-improvement and taking leadership until we're making decisions you dont like, i guess. WHATEVER. this is why we dont listen to you.

its hard, okay. like, you cant understand the sheer fucking stress were under trying to keep all our plans going smoothly while keeping these guys safe while they're basically actively trying to unravel every carefully-laid thread and also strangle themselves in them. im probably going prematurely grey and also losing some time. its hard to remember when we need to hold back and use the kiddy gloves. i really didnt want to come to holding - uh, we'll call him MC (M25) - by the throat, passed-out. he's like a brother to me, been through thick and fucking thin together, so yeah, i feel really bad about that, my bad, we were the asshole there, but like, maybe stop throwing yourself in the way? like run out into the road you're gonna get hit by a truck no matter how hard they slam the brakes. mfw the conses quence. but im NOT asking about that. everyone's been on our dick about "please god stop doing all of this" and abandoning A and trying to break us up way before that, and THAT'S what im asking about

Anyways tl;dr are we the asshole for getting shit done when it takes methods that all our monday morning quarterback friends dont like

_____

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might be the asshole:

it really was a dick move to dangle my teammate's limp body in a chokehold even though it was basically an accident and also not even directly relevant to the question

OP has offered the following explanation for why they think they might not be the asshole:

okay but we're right

#red vs blue #rvb restoration #lavernius tucker

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thegoldencontracts · 2 months

Note

Is it possible to request for Azul with a reader who used to be the queen bee/top dog of their school but then was overthrown and was bullied (essentially like Azul but in reverse)?

Of course!

Notes: Mentions of bullying, minus the title, very soft fem!reader implications due to the title of queen-bee

Azul x Ex-Queen-Bee!Reader HCs

You probably don't like him at first.

Okay, hear me out, he's all about exploitation, deception, manipulation, and blackmail. That's the exact thing that got you bullied. You know how this plays out, and you want none of it.

"You seem stressed, my poor unfortunate soul! I'm certain you could use some assistance. Luckily, I am benevolent enough to provide it. For a fee, of course."

You don't know much about this man, after all, you've just met him, but you can already tell he's bad news.

He'd also dislike you at first. He sees someone who's annoyingly jaded, and because of your experience being in his shoes, you know his tactics all too well, and you're not afraid to use them against him.

Funnily enough, this is actually what makes you start to like him more.

"My dearest," he said, encroaching upon your personal space in that way meant to be both intimidating and attractive that you were all too familiar with. Time to see if he could stand a taste of his own medicine.

"Yes?" You said, leaning right in - you weren't letting him shove you around. You'd had enough of that at your old school.

It worked. He flushed, swatting you away with a huff.

"D-Don't be so improper!" He said, and you would've called him out for being a hypocrite if you weren't too busy laughing. This was too good. For all Azul pestered you over contracts, he could be pretty cute when he ditched the smug attitude.

The main way for you two to get closer is to slowly learn about each other. You learn that Azul's actually quite loyal to his friends - no matter the much both the twins and Azul try to call themselves business partners, and he learns that you don't actually want to hurt anyone right now, you'd just like to be left alone. He learns your past at some point, and you learn his.

It's here that you guys might start developing feelings. In that case-

You both try to suppress them. You're both jaded, after all.

But after a while, someone's going to crack. It can be either one of you, but it's for your own good, because otherwise you'll both just end up pushing the other away

It's probably going to be Azul. Not because he's less jaded (which he definitely isn't), but because of the twins

They're getting bored of him being mopey (aka they care and don't want to see him upset) so Azul either gets small mentions until he can't take it anymore or they just straight up set you two up

If you somehow manage to overcome all of the jadedness from being overthrown and the fear of getting stabbed in the back again to confess first, though, congratulations! You've just earned yourself a super flustered Azul. Ultra-Rare!

While dating, you guys are an interesting match, to say the least. Two jaded souls who are both afraid to admit their attachment to one another. Difference is, Azul acts more smug while you're just gruff

All in all, it's safe to say you and Azul will likely have quite the good relationship, but it'll take you a lot of time first

#azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x you #fluff #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x you #twst #headcannons #twisted wonderland x reader #twst azul #twst azul x reader #tweel cameo #ty for the request!

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obxone · 1 year

Text

Pogue Like Me (Part Three)

Edited-ish. ~4.8k words

Tag list: @gillybear17 @i-love-rafe @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @nomorespahgetti @lmg-stilinski24 @f4ll-for-you @user3737338292 @iheqrtaustin @jayblackpanther @calmoistorm @paintygirl

Warning: drug use

Master Page

The phone rings while you nervously worry your teeth over your bottom lip and wait for the line to pick up. What you are doing could be a dumb idea, or it could be a great idea. You are not sure yet.

"Hello?" Sarah's voice filters through the car speakers.

"Hi."

"What's up?" She asks, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "I'm glad you called me."

"I am actually about to pull up to the Chateau. Wondered if we could have girl talk for a minute?"

"Oh!" You hear a door open and close. "Umm… yeah, but everyone is here."

You exhale, hands tightening on your steering wheel. "Well…"

"You should still come… we can go for a walk or something. I want to talk to you and see you. I don't… lunch the other day-"

"Sarah," you interrupt her. "I know."

She exhales before letting out a nervous laugh. "Still come, please?"

"I am turning onto the dirt road now."

"Great!"

"See you in a second," you reassure her before hanging up. "I can do this, I can do this," you whisper over and over as you get closer and closer to the Chateau. Exactly like she said, you spot the Twinkie, Kiara's car, and JJ's bike. Pope would likely have caught a ride with one of them. "Great."

You park and turn off the engine, pressing your hands to your thighs and trying to calm your panicked heart.

"I can do this." You whisper, squeezing your eyes shut a moment. "I have to do this."

Knuckles knock on the window of your door, and you open your eyes to see Pope standing there. You ease the door open to peek at him through the small gap.

"Pep talk?"

"Uh-huh."

He chuckles. "It'll be fine, come on."

You resume running your teeth over your bottom lip until Pope's hand finds yours, and he squeezes while walking to the backyard. Being nervous and still upset is a bad combination, and you know that, but until you talk to Sarah or someone else about this situation, you will stay that way.

"Scale of 1 to 10, how bad?" You whisper.

"Six…maybe eight."

You start to turn away to go back to your car, but he grips your hand tighter, stopping you both in your tracks.

"You've done nothing wrong." He says quickly. His hands are gripping your shoulder, and he stares down at you. "You were honest and direct. Which is a first for you, but if it was Kiara or JJ, they would not think twice."

"Okay," you sigh in relief that you have someone on your side, and he is right. All his points are valid and accurate. You wrap your arms around his waist in a hug murmuring a quiet thank you. He hugs your back, patting your shoulder.

"We've got to stick together, right?"

"Right." You let him go and step back. "Let's do this."

He grins at you before leading the way. His hand brushes yours again once you step into view of the other four. All four heads turn and Sarah smiles brightly, hopping out of her chair to hug you.

"It's okay," she whispers in your ear, rocking you back and forth in a tight hug.

You nod, letting her go and moving forward.

John B lifts his hand to smack yours when you pass him. "Missed you. Where you been?"

"Around."

"With Rafe," JJ mutters, stabbing a stick into a muddy spot by his boot. Kiara rolls her eyes at him, but her gaze never meets yours. She lays in the hammock, and JJ lingers close by. They were likely sharing it before you arrived.

"Rafe?" John B asks, and you are fully aware that he is playing devil's advocate now. Sarah slaps him on the back of the head, solidifying your opinion even more. He winces but continues to look at you. "Really?" His nose scrunches slightly, and you fight back a laugh at how endearing it is.

"Not really," you remark as you sit in one of the empty lawn chairs. You can tell they do not believe you, so you opt for honesty. "Maybe a little."

He bobs his head, processing your words while rocking back onto the back legs of his chair. "Why?"

You shrug. "He is helping me with something. What is with the questions?"

"Are you dating?"

"What are these questions?" You laugh, trying to stave off the panic that feels like it is piercing you between the ribs. They have been discussing you and Rafe in your absence.

John B shrugs, and the front legs of his chair hit the ground. "Dunno."

JJ speaks up then, and you can feel his stare burning into your side profile. "He's a kook."

"So was Sarah…" you mumble, gesturing to the blonde with a sympathetic smile. "And we still gave her a shot."

"Fair," she whispers, pursing her lips.

"But this is Rafe!" His voice grows louder, and he shifts to lean closer toward your direction.

"Also, fair," Sarah adds, frowning at the idea that her brother could become a pogue like her.

You stay silent, gaze darting away from Sarah and John B down to your hands. They tremble, but you refuse to grip anything solid to hide the reaction they are pulling from you like you are tempted to do. "I'm not sure what you want to hear right now."

"Tell us it's not true!" JJ jumps up, waving his arm in a sweeping gesture for the group assembled. "Tell us that it is a prank!"

"But it's not."

He groans, running his hand through his hair. "Why won't you look at me?"

You lift your chin then and meet his gaze. Tears collect in your eyes, and you swallow the hurtful words you want to throw at him. "Happy?"

"No!"

You shrug, looking away then. This is a losing battle with all five of them present, and your emotions waver on the edge. "I should probably go."

"No!" Pope, Sarah, John B, and Kiara shout together. You flinch, your hands tightening around your thighs, despite not wanting to do so.

"Stay. We need to talk about this!" Sarah begs, moving closer.

"About what?" You ask, looking at her as a tear falls down your cheek. "How you all expect me to stay the quiet, timid little girl that never thinks for herself or goes after what she wants?"

Sarah frowns. "That's not… no!"

"Well, that's what it feels like," you respond, standing as well. "You are all supposed to be my best friends." Your eyes cut to JJ. "You are supposed to be my very best friend, and it feels like you do not care about me, not really."

"That's not true," JJ says, shaking his head. His face screws up in frustration. "Never has been!"

Reaching up, you wipe away the tears and exhale. "Feels like it to me."

"We just don't think Rafe is healthy," Kiara finally speaks up from the hammock. "You've been different since your birthday and…."

"Because I'm standing up for myself!" You cut her off. "You guys lied to me for three weeks!" You gesture between her and JJ. "You lied to all of our faces! You keep secrets! You broke our rules!"

JJ starts to talk, his panic getting the best of him, but you lift your hand to stop him.

"Best friends don't do that!" You state, more tears starting to spill over. "Did you even notice I left the party?!" You look at each of them. "Any of you?!"

No one says anything, and you laugh, shaking your head.

"I left my own birthday party, and not a single one of you noticed." You look at Sarah. "I want to talk, but I can't do this… not here, not now."

She closes the small space between you, gripping your wrist. "Please don't leave. Not like this."

"I'll be fine," you murmur, squeezing her hand in yours.

"Are you dating him?" JJ asks, and you close your eyes, dropping your head.

Sarah shifts her weight, and you can sense the tension thickening in the air. "JJ! Not now."

"Then when?!" He asks, a humorless laugh bubbling up. "When we've already lost her!"

"Guys," John B starts talking while getting to his feet, but the nail is already in the coffin. The wounds are too fresh and deep.

"Go fuck yourself, JJ!" You snap at him. "Because honestly, if you were my friend, a true best friend, then you would not give a shit about who I dated if I was happy! Because that is what a friend does. That is what I am trying to do for you, but you are making it so fucking hard!"

"Okay, easy," Sarah whispers, her arm circling your waist to keep you away from JJ.

"This isn't solving anything!" Kiara shouts and turns to JJ. "We need to be reasonable and listen to each other."

"I am listening!" He yells, and Kiara shakes her head, the disappointment clear on her face.

"Guys," Pope and John B both try to calm the chaos, but it is too late. Hell's gates are open, and there is no going back.

"You're my family, all of you," you say quickly, looking at each of them in the face, and fresh tears well up. "And I love you more than anything, but I don't feel loved. Not right now." You remove Sarah's arm from your waist and step away from the small circle of chairs and your friends. Your eyes cut to JJ and Kiara as they stand close together. "And you both can go to hell with your hypocrisy."

You leave without another word. Sarah's mouth drops open in surprise, and Pope shakes his head, looking away from the newest couple. John B groans, pressing his hands to his face.

Without waiting for someone to stop you or even giving them a chance to try to stop you, you leave the Chateau behind and attempt to focus on where you are going. Tears blur your vision, and ragged breaths escape as the panic swallows you whole. You barely make it a mile before you have to pull over on the shoulder to try to calm yourself.

Your cell phone ringing breaks the quiet, and you silence the call before dropping your head onto the steering wheel. You had done it. You had sealed and buried your childhood friendships. The tension had come to the surface and snapped before your very eyes. The phone rings again, and you groan, answering it without looking.

"What?!" You snap. "I'm not coming back!"

"Whoa, pretty girl," Rafe's voice breaks through your panicked thoughts. "You okay?"

"No."

He can hear the upset and panic coating your voice. There is shuffling on his end and a faint 'Where you going, Country Club?'. "What happened?"

"Long story," you whisper, closing your eyes, teardrops hitting your thighs. "I don't want to talk about it over the phone."

"Where are you?"

"Side of the road."

He groans, and you hear a car door open and close.

"I'll be fine, Rafe. What do you need?"

"I got something for you. I was going to bring it by."

You laugh and open your eyes to see the droplets of tears littering your jean shorts and the skin of your thighs.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing," you mumble, closing your eyes again. "I would rather not go home right now. Meet somewhere?"

"Sure," he says, and you can hear him driving. "Parking lot from your birthday?"

"Oh, god," you groan, and he laughs. Flashbacks of the night fill your head, and you bite your lip, thighs pressing together at the phantom feel of his touch on you. "See you in a few minutes."

"All right."

It does not take long for you to find one another. You sit on the trunk of your car until Ward's truck pulls into the mostly empty lot. The setting sun is ending many beachgoers' perfect day, and soon you will have the beach to yourselves. He steps into view seconds after parking next to you. His hand brushes your leg, his head tipping to the side while he looks at you.

"This is twice now that you've cried leaving John B's and been on the side of the road."

You sniffle and reach up to wipe away the tears.

His knuckles knock against your knee. "Talk to me."

You exhale, dropping your hands onto the trunk beside your thighs. The metal is warm from the sun beating down on it all day. "We got in an argument, and I may have told JJ and Kie to go to hell."

Rafe laughs, his eyes crinkling before he shakes his head. "I really am rubbing off."

You roll your eyes. "I'm not proud of myself."

"I am!"

You frown, looking away to watch a family load into a minivan. Sunburnt kids, boogie boards, and beach gear are all in tow. You smile a little and try to ignore the promising sting of fresh tears stirring up.

He moves closer, his abdomen pressing against your knees. "I have something for you."

"Yeah?" You ask before turning your attention back to him.

He nods, fishing in his jean pocket before producing a bag of weed. He drops it on your lap and grins at you. "Just in time, huh?"

You nod, closing your eyes for a moment. "Who did you get this from?"

"Barry," he mutters, his fingertips skating over your exposed thighs. "Do you want to do some now?"

"On the beach."

He grins before pocketing the bag and helping you down from your trunk. He leads the way to the beach, and you follow. You smile politely at the tourists leaving until he finds a secluded spot nestled among some driftwood.

He watches you fish around in your purse until you produce a bowl, grinder, and lighter. He chuckles, brushing his hand over his mouth. "You come prepared."

"I like weed," you mutter, plucking the baggie from his other hand. "Makes me feel less anxious and clears the bad thoughts."

"Bad thoughts?"

You nod, putting what you need in the grinder before turning the lid back and forth.

"What bad thoughts?"

You exhale, meeting his curious eyes. "That I'm not good enough. That I don't deserve to live sometimes…" You swallow. "That I'm failing and not doing anything right. That everyone is going to leave me." You let out a harsh laugh. "But it looks like I've pushed them away instead."

Rafe frowns, studying you. "I have bad thoughts too."

You stare at him, waiting for him to continue.

"Umm…" He looks down at the sand, his arms resting on his knees. "Sometimes I think things… a-and I know they aren't okay. I'm not okay. I thought I was. But I keep having these thoughts in my head, and I can't control them. I try," he presses his hands to his face. The heel of his palms press to his eyes before he drops them and looks at you. "I'm afraid of what is going to happen."

You reach across to touch him. Your hand is grasping his.

"I'm afraid of what I am going to do."

You steady your breathing and tighten your hand on his. "I think talking about it is the first step."

He nods, agreeing. "I should get clean. I should get my shit together."

"Rafe," you sigh and look back at him. "You can. I know you can."

He smiles a little before laughing harshly. "But my father doesn't think I can."

You huff, going back to your task. "Ward sometimes gets in his own way."

"What do you mean?"

You shrug, filling the bowl. "Look at Sarah. She's a pogue now because he did not listen to her. And you… you're trying to figure it out, and he keeps pressuring you instead of listening to you."

Rafe's lips press into a thin line, and you worry you have crossed the line, but then he clears his throat. "I've told him I'm not okay, but he says to 'man up.' So I'm trying to do that."

You smile weakly before you offer him the packed bowl and lighter. "Want the first hit?"

He takes it, and you watch him light it and inhale before passing it back to you. He blows it out a few seconds later and relaxes against the driftwood.

"Who knew?" You mutter before taking a hit. You copy his actions of exhaling and relaxing against the sun-bleached tree trunk. "The kook and pogue outcasts, becoming friends."

He laughs before shaking his head. "I'm not your friend, y/n."

You pout, but he reaches over and pokes your bottom lip.

"I'm your outlet."

"Outlet?" Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. "For drugs?"

He shrugs. "And sex, if you need it."

You laugh and drop your head onto his shoulder, enjoying the beginnings of your high. "I think that I want to date whoever I let fuck me first, Rafe."

He is silent for a moment, but his fingers continue to skate up and down your thigh and around your knee. "Date me."

"What?" You laugh and turn your face to look at him. Surprise is in your voice and expression.

He shrugs. "Why not? Might help get my dad off my case, and it'll piss your ex-best friends off."

You frown at the mention of your friends. You do not want to talk about it anymore. You would rather forget tonight happened for a little while. "Is this so you can 'pop my cherry'? Another notch on your bedpost?"

"No," he responds, brushing his knuckle against the hem of your shorts. "But when you are ready, I can do it. No notch."

You hum before taking another hit. "Okay." You supply after you exhale. "Two bad thoughts make a positive action, right?"

He laughs, slinging his arm around you and pulling you against him. "Maybe."

"Why are we doing this?" You ask Rafe. It is too late to back out now as he leads you toward a kook house. A party is happening to celebrate someone's college acceptance.

Rafe shrugs. "I have party favors to sell and a new girlfriend to show off."

You snort at the last part, but your hand slides into his. Your fingers interlacing together right before you step through the main door.

"Rafe!" Kelce is first to greet him. "Where you been, man?"

"Had to get my girl," Rafe answers Kelce, clasping his hand and pulling him into a hug.

"Your girl?" Kelce questions, and Rafe tugs you forward. Kelce smiles. "I fucking knew it!"

You laugh, leaning into Rafe's side. His arm hooks around your shoulders as he grins proudly.

"Well, enjoy!"

"Hey!" Rafe grabs his arm quickly, pulling him back. He leans in, and you already know he is telling him about the party favors he brought. "Spread the word!" He tells him as Kelce walks backward with a smile and a thumb up in agreement. Rafe turns to you once Kelce is out of sight. His hands secure around your hips. "Want a drink?"

"Please." You smile up at him.

"Cool, umm…" He looks around and spots an empty patio loveseat on the deck. "Wait for me out there, all right?"

"Yep." You peck his lips before passing through the partygoers to take the loveseat. Once you are settled and people-watching, you notice Sarah and John B by a group of kooks you knew. Scarlet and Olivia are two of them. Olivia has it bad for Kelce, and he has never noticed, from what you can tell. Sarah's eyes connect with yours, and her lips part in shock. You lift your hand in an awkward wave, aware of how tense it is.

"Here you go." Rafe reappears at that time and holds out a cup for you. You take it and hum in appreciation at the fruity punch in the cup. "Careful, it's Ryn's secret recipe."

He takes the seat next to you, his arm hooking around your shoulders. You lean into his side, looking at the plastic bag he has dropped on the table.

"How much do you think you'll sell tonight?"

"I don't know."

You hum before glancing at Sarah and John B, who are both openly staring at you. "Your sister is here."

"Oh, yeah?" He asks, laughing a little before following where you are looking to see her. "And that pogue."

"John B," you offer before taking another sip.

"John B," he repeats before tapping your chin. You tip your head to look at him, and his lips press to yours. His intentions are not intended to be good for the pair watching you, and you know that, but you also know no matter what you do now, the pogues will think what they want to.

You kiss him back, your hand skating over the line of his jaw. His lips turn up against yours in a devilish grin. His hands sneak under your skirt, his fingertips possessive against the skin of your thighs. You moan into his mouth when his thumb brushes between your thighs. Your fingers weave through his blond locks, tugging him closer. It is indecent, and you cannot help yourself.

"Are you serious right now?!" Topper's voice cuts through the haze of Rafe's mouth on yours. The kissing ends, and Rafe smirks at his friend. "Since when?"

You shrug, looking at Kelce coming through the door, a couple of pretty girls on his arms and trailing behind him. You smile at him. It is no secret that you prefer Kelce over Topper. Kelce had never been crass or actively rude to you like Topper had.

"Yesterday."

Topper accepts Rafe's answer without another word.

"Come sit with me," Rafe mumbles against your jaw while his arms hook around your waist and pull you onto his lap. "Give Kelc some room."

You hum, leaning back against his chest. You can feel how your indecent behavior has affected him, so you tease him a little. "Also, to hide your boner?"

He laughs against your shoulder. His lips warm against your skin.

"Kelce!" Topper clasps his hand before Kelce throws himself onto the couch beside you. He smirks, admiring you on Rafe's lap.

"You two look good." His attention shifts to Topper again. Kelce is gauging his friend and how he feels about Rafe and you, but you do not care what the blond kook thinks.

You roll your eyes and sip from your cup before your gaze cuts to Sarah and John B across the room. John B is clinging to her arm, trying to keep her with him and not storming after you. You can read her lips easily as she states that she only wants to talk to you.

John B visibly groans and releases her.

"Sarah is coming," you warn Rafe, and he groans loudly in annoyance, shuffling you around on his lap as he tucks his product away. He mutters something about her snitching and tells Kelce to hang out for a minute.

"Hey!" Sarah says, dropping onto the armrest of the chair that is adjacent to the loveseat. Her expression does not match her happy tone. Instead, she looks like she is expecting answers. "What's going on?"

"Just hanging out," Kelce answers before either you or Rafe.

Rafe's arm snakes around your waist. His chest presses into your back as he leans forward to collect his drink. "What do you want, Sarah?"

"To talk to my best friend."

He can tell you are on edge and nervous about being around them again, especially now that you are officially together. Your hands grip his free hand that rests on your thigh.

Rafe chuckles, shaking his head. "From how I hear it, you guys are not treating her like friends, much less best friends."

You exhale, pushing your hand onto his thigh. "Rafe."

"No," she says, looking down at her shoes. "He's right."

You watch her, ignoring the sting of yesterday's argument drudging back up. "John B does not look comfortable alone."

She frowns, glancing at her boyfriend, and he shakes his head, leaning back against the wall. "He wants to talk to you, but…." Her gaze flickers over the three kooks.

"I'll come over there," you offer. John B and Sarah were trying, so you would too. You pat Rafe's arm to signal for him to let you go.

"Don't go far," he says into your ear, squeezing you back against him one last time. "I don't trust them."

And then his arm falls away, and Sarah helps you to your feet. Glancing back at Rafe as you head for John B, you notice a frown on his face while he watches you until Topper and Kelce demand his attention.

You can do this. This time it would be only two pogues and not five.

"John B."

He smiles at you, shaking his head. "I don't like not being friends."

"Me either," Sarah adds quickly. "No one does."

You frown at them before downing the rest of your drink quickly. "I'm not enjoying it either."

"Then can we talk about it?" She asks, her hand gripping yours. "Please!"

"Sure."

She exhales a breath of relief. "So… are you dating my brother?"

You stare at her and then John B, gauging them before clearing your throat. "Yes."

John B groans, eyes closing, and his head falls. Sarah frowns at him before turning her attention back to you.

"Since that day JJ saw you?"

"Yesterday, actually." You cross your arms over your waist. Your nails bite into the soft inside of your arms. "After the argument, we met up, talked, and realized that we like one another."

She nods, licking her lips. "Are you sure it is a good idea?"

"No," you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him, but he is forming lines and collecting payment. "Probably the worst idea, but I need something different."

She leans closer to you, her voice dropping. "Is this because of Kie and JJ?"

"No."

Her eyebrows raise in disbelief at your statement, and you groan.

"No, it has nothing to do with them and everything to do with me."

John B clearly knows what you are talking about, even with Sarah whispering as he clears his throat. "JJ is just as upset as you. I've never seen him like this."

You frown, eyes darting away from John B to the floor. "I can't please everyone."

"But you can talk to me," JJ's voice states from behind you, and you turn to see all three missing pogues behind you.

Pope moves closer first, his hand brushing your arm. "You okay?"

You nod once, glancing over his shoulder to JJ, who is watching you with concern. "Umm…" You exhale. "I don't know what you want to talk about since no one wants to listen to me."

JJ glances at Kiara before he drops her hand and moves closer. "We're worried."

"I know."

"Then help us understand," he offers, his touch light as he grazes your wrist with his thumb. "You're my best friend, y/n. Please."

You close your eyes and exhale. You open them to look at JJ as you deliver the answer. He seems to know already but hates the idea of it. "I'm dating Rafe. We hung out a few times and decided to give it a go last night."

JJ steps back, his expression shifting to annoyed and frustrated. "He's not safe."

"You don't know him."

He gapes at you, and Kiara shakes her head, looking at Sarah for help. He ignores the silent pleas for help from Kiara. "Yes, we do! How many times has he belittled us? How many times has he hurt one of us? Do you get th-"

"Pogues," Rafe's voice cuts into JJ's rant as he moves behind you. His cologne and body heat wrapping around you. His hand finds your hip, and he looks at JJ over your head. "I thought this was a kook party."

"We stopped by to see our friend," Kiara spits out. Her gaze shifts to you, silently pleading for you to walk away from him, but you do not.

He nods, looking down at you, and you look up at him. "Ready to go?"

"I think so," you state before shifting your attention to Sarah. "I'd like to talk just us, one-on-one, eventually."

"We will." She watches you with her brother before glancing at John B, who moves forward and blocks JJ from moving any closer. If he did get closer, you are sure a fight would start. The rage in his ocean eyes and the tight fists tucked against his side tell you enough.

"We should go," you whisper before taking Rafe's hand. "I'll see you guys around." You offer with a small wave.

"You pogues enjoy the party, all right?" Rafe taunts and lets you lead him away from the small cluster that continues to build with tension.

(Part Four)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are welcome and appreciated!

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x y/n

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somekindofcontraption · 6 months

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"Acceptable Violence" in OFMD Season 2: deconstructing violence within the context of the show's parameters

I've been doing a lot of thinking about violence and the second season of Our Flag Means Death. I've come to some conclusions that I would like to share, but I would like to preface my thoughts with a disclaimer or two:

I did not like the second season, for myriad reasons, some of which I will outline here. But I am not here to attack you if you liked the season. I am not here to make commentary on who you are as a person or your personal taste if you liked the season. My not liking the season does not mean you can't like the season. In short: my dislike of the season is not about you at all! Also, this is not an academic paper. Which doesn't mean I might not do that in the future, but for now this is just an assembly of analysis and thoughts. If you do not care to read analytical criticism of something you deeply enjoyed? I invited you to scroll onward. If you liked the second season but would like to hear some of the reasons why many, including myself, didn't - carry on! The rest is under the cut.

The first season of Our Flag Means Death dips its toes into the world of piracy by following the unfolding story of Stede Bonnet, the newly minted former aristocrat-turned-pirate who dreams of a new sort of piracy; a gentler, more polite means of pirating. Things, as they said, did not go according to plan. The first season does an excellent job of laying the complex groundwork for an in-world set of principles which tell us what sort of violence is "normal" or "acceptable" in the context of the show and what isn't. (Please assume from here on out that when I say acceptable and normal the "quotes" are implied, as I am not talking about what is acceptable and normal in real life.) It does this through narrative framing, by softening more intense instances of violence through comedy and by pushing it off-screen, and by establishing who is a good guy and who is Not. Unacceptable: Stede Bonnet getting beat on, tied up, and bullied by the Badmintons and their ilk as a child. He's soft and likes flowers! He's got a mean dad! No one likes bullies! It's framed as a negative, it's not super funny (the camera cuts to Stede's face both in the past and present looking distressed, and Stede is the hero, so this can be generally accepted as bad.) This leads us to: Acceptable: Badminton getting whacked over the head and falling on his own sword. This I would categorize as what people have been referring to as "looney tune violence." He was a bully! He's part of a colonial navy! He was being absolutely horrible to Stede! It's funny that Stede is so inept!

Stede feels guilty about it, it causes him trauma, but that trauma is treated, quite often, comedically (see Badminton's "ghost" taunting him, characters treatment of his breakdown, etc). The context clues for whether or not this is acceptable violence are baked right into the writing, too. Oluwande says - claiming that Stede killed Badminton on purpose would gain him the respect of his crew. This is violence that in-world is both acceptable, expected, and also respected for the captain of a pirate ship. (See also: Murdering and/or tying up the remaining British navy crew and putting them through the same thing Stede went through. It's framed as triumphant, Stede having been vindicated, the crew celebrating it as a victory.) Unacceptable: Stede's concept of "soft piracy" of course comes crashing down when his whimsical attempt to woo the Spanish navy is cut short by his getting gut-stabbed.

Stede and the crew are being framed as the heroes of the story and the Spaniards are framed as the bad guys; this setup is why this violence, while totally within the realms of something our crew would do, is categorized as unacceptable. It's also important to note, however, that while it could have been quite a bit more graphic and disturbing if shot differently, the swelling symphony, the comedic cuts of the Spaniards triumphantly getting their ass kicked, softens the blow. Other acceptable instances of violence: The snail fork - horrifying if you think about it, but the narrative softens the blow. The guy was just really racist, giving us a sense of vindictive pleasure, and the violence is all off-screen (we don't actually have to see someone getting skinned with a snail fork). The French ship - again, horrifying if you think too much about people trapped on a burning ship in the middle of the ocean. But, they had all just been huge racist shit-heads who had harmed our heroes. In the context of the narrative, it is framed as being justified. We also don't actually see anyone burning to death, and we get a very funny shot of Ed looking at Stede in awe, and Stede looking very please with himself, confirming in-narrative that this was okay. Other unacceptable instances of violence:

Karl the bird - Jack is framed as an antagonist; he comes between Ed and Stede, obstructing the narrative subplot. Buttons, and by extension Karl, are part of the crew, the heroes. When Karl dies Buttons is devastated, everyone looks uncomfortable, and it's the last straw for Stede to kick Jack off the ship. Plus, there's the an "innocent character" thing similar to Stede as a child getting bullied; Karl was an animal, with no defenses, who did nothing wrong.

Finally, of course, we arrive at the moment that Lucius is pushed from the ship. Unacceptable: By all accounts, pushing people from ships is probably not outside the realm of things that pirates Definitely Do. But here we have another great instance of framing heroes and bad guys. In this case, we have a hero (Ed), seemingly killing another hero (Lucius), who was not only just trying to help him, but was absolutely not expecting violence. We also have a "death" that happened off-screen. We don't see Lucius "drowning." Had Lucius actually died, I think this would have been horrifying. Narratively and thematically, it would not have fit into the spirit of the show, because you could no longer frame Ed as a hero. There would be no real way that I can see to meaningfully redeem him in the context of a comedy, even a "black comedy" (which I do not believe OFMD is). And genuinely, I don't know anyone who thought Lucius was actually dead, so while what Ed did was horrible and awful and needed to be atoned for, it wasn't Final. It wasn't Irredeemable. He didn't become a capital v Villain. The rules of the first season made sense to me. Everything that happened fit narratively, was thematically appropriate, and established a certain set of rules and conventions to follow. It gets dark, and it does push the envelope of what I could bear in a "romantic comedy." Ed cutting off Izzy's toe is tempered (cutting off his littlest toe with a comedically large pair of scissors) but feeding them to him is disturbing. Izzy was an antagonist, not a villain, so giving him treatment reserved for, say, the British navy characters, and doing so graphically and on-screen, was A Lot. This coming from me, who really, REALLY hated Izzy at this point in time. But I think there was an underlying sense of hope that things would improve, resolve, and move forward through character growth and narrative. Stede was coming back to make amends; maybe Ed would find his way back to normalcy, and they'd meet in the middle. It was expected that apologies would be made and Ed could come back from the unacceptable things he did to Lucius, to the Crew, and to Izzy especially. That there would be character and interpersonal growth for them.

Unfortunately, the second season is where the show's parameters around acceptable and unacceptable violence absolutely falls apart. It's never quite clear why something is acceptable vs not, and we never see the character and interpersonal growth "promised" by the narrative which would redeem the dark tonal shift and veer the story back towards comedy. In order for Ed to be redeemed, the violence being framed as unacceptable during his Kraken era could not be so unacceptable that it crosses the line into irredeemable. Ed could not cross the line in the minds of the audience from "hero" to "villain." But the first three episodes of the season... were dark. They crossed the line. It felt like a character assassination to me. Ed's abuse of the crew, the continued maiming of Izzy (who at this point is hurdling into a sympathetic character arc of growth and redemption,) the self-harm, the attempted murder-suicide of his crew... most of it was on-screen, not at all tempered by comedy, and brutal. It wasn't heroes vs villains, it was supposed hero causing extensive harm and trauma to other heroes. The writing in these episodes were narratively cohesive and well-paced. They were not, however, thematically appropriate to a romantic comedy. At this point in the season I still felt like it was building towards a breaking point where Ed would come back to himself, where character growth would be achieved, and amends would be made. I was willing to hold tight.

But it didn't work in terms of the story that was setup in season one. It would have taken an incredible amount of character growth to even begin to come back from that; but I trusted the narrative to deliver. However, the real problem is that this season tried to rewrite the in-show parameters of what constitutes acceptable violence in ways that are uncomfortable and contrary to reality in ways that I find harmful. (I will be clear, in reference to recent discourse, I do feel the head-butt was comedic. It was looney tunes violence, it was well within the context of a romantic comedy, and it worked for me tonally, even though it's obviously not appropriate in real life.) Ed's chair throwing in the context of a man who had spent three episodes inflicting increasingly terrible domestic violence on people who loved and cared for him, who stuck by him -- in the larger context of him doing all this just because he felt rejected by a romantic partner -- is presented as in-show acceptable violence. It's presented as falling within the parameters. Proof? We are expected to still like Ed, and root for Ed, and want Ed to get better, and cheer for the romantic pairing "getting back together," and everything else. He is still presented as a hero. Sure, the show is telling us that what Ed did in his Kraken era is bad; but not so Bad that we shouldn't forgive him for it when he has made no real move to make amends for what he did. Like the crew, and Izzy specifically, we are meant to simply... move forward. That line about "getting away with it" without consequences I thought was a commentary on how Ed would not get to do that, actually was just... what happened. The season also wants me to believe that in the in-show parameters that Ed would hurt absolutely anybody but DEFINITELY NOT Stede, because Stede is his ultra super special soul mate and he would never do him any harm. This is not how things work in real life, and it is not a disbelief I am willing to suspend uncritically. Do I believe Ed, in the context of the show, would hurt Stede? Nope. I think it's more likely Stede would hurt Ed than the other way around. But I don't like the message that this in-show parameter sends, about how violence, particularly DV, is inflicted. I don't like being told that there is a super special person that this person who has abused others won't hurt. It's a bad message, and bad writing, and bad in-show precedence to set.

I'm not going to say all this without mentioning the stereotypes surrounding men of color, particular Indigenous men, which paints them as abusers. These stereotypes have been mentioned in regards to people talking about Ed's abuse this season. It's important to examine and be critical of oneself as a white person, and look long and hard at these biases. I don't want to fall into the trap of racist biases, and I don't want it to go unmentioned. I have thought long and hard about this. I've done a lot of self-examination on the subject of Ed and abuse. It has brought me back to my point of character assassination; I think the show fell into those stereotypes itself. I think Ed's characterization this season was problematic, and a disservice to the character as laid out in season one, and that's a big part of my disappointment with this season. (I also have a lot of thoughts on how Stede's character, who has been handed an immense amount of power over Ed and his agency as a character, is also extremely problematic. I will get into that in another post; it needs its own. So I'm not here to say Stede himself is not a Problem because he absolutely is and I will shout it from the rooftops.) "But somekindofcontraption," you say! "Ed has trauma!" Yes. That is very true. And it certainly explains some things, but as in real life, it absolutely does not excuse them. Ed's narrative was all about the perpetuation of trauma, particularly generational trauma, with absolutely no criticism or breakage of this cycle in any meaningful or productive way. It set up the story and did no work to resolve it. Ed was simply fixed because he and Stede said I love you and kissed a few times. The romance's "resolution" was unearned and unsatisfying. Neither Stede nor Ed were held accountable for what they did.

Then there was Izzy, who spent the whole of his arc being redeemed, moving forward as a character. He was the only character, I would say, with any meaningful growth. He's also the only one whose story was explicitly about being queer and queer discovery, rather than queerness merely being and incidental part of it. He's the only one who shows any accountability. Right up until the point that he died, his story was the best-written out of all of them. Then he dies. Izzy's death, and the ways that tonally it does not fit into the narrative, is another post onto itself. For now, I'll leave you with all of these rambling thoughts, condensed down as best I could into this tumblr post. If you have any further thoughts, I would love to hear them in good faith. For now, I say, that it's okay to be disappointed. This story was so meaningful to so many, and to be so thoroughly let down is hard. Grief is grief. Take care out there, and be kind to yourself, and be kind to those that are grieving.

#ofmd #ofmd spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd critical #ofmd meta #ofmd analysis

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smaller-comfort · 1 month

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So how do you imagine snail love darts and necrontyr working/combining? Cause I am interested~

Aksjdhsk ahahaha oh god okay here we go

(Tumblr crashed on me three times while I tried to write this, but I will not let that stop me from rambling at length about snail sex, speculative xenobiology, and various ways that necrontyr get to be fucked up little guys.)

Okay, now snails: they use the darts during courtship to deliver hormones that increase the likelihood of fertilizing their partner's eggs; after the several-hours-long mating dance, they'll exchange spermatophores. (Fun fact, the penis, copulatory canal, and dart sac are all located inside the genital pore, on the snail's head. Mating dances can involve a lot of biting.) Snails have bad aim, but it's not uncommon for both snails to end up getting stabbed during courtship.

Okay. Some assumptions/general thoughts: necrontyr do not have "dual-use" reproductive/waste elimination systems (inferred from Trazyn's hilarious disgust at the idea, but honestly it would be entirely believable for him to have completely lost any and all memories of necrontyr biology). Most higher order animals do (they're efficient!), but you start to see ones that don't when you get down to bugs and marine creatures, so that's what kicked off this train of thought.

I'm assuming also there is relatively little sexual dimorphism among necrontyr (not for any particular reason, although my understanding is that actual female necrons are a relatively new thing in wh40k lore, so that fits). And finally, everyone constantly dying of turbo cancer has led to a 'throw everything but the kitchen sink at it' evolutionary approach to reproductive strategies.

"Copulatory canal" is a deeply unsexy phrase, btw. So are most words we use when talking about sex, unfortunately. *sigh*

Okay, so, love darts. Pretty much only ever used by nobles/the military, because in the upper classes of society, sex isn't about reproduction, it's about reinforcing social hierarchies. And necrontyr social hierarchies tend to be inherently about violence in one way or another. Sexual dominance is generally more about who gets stabbed with the dart than it is about which penis is going where. (That's still a factor, but it's secondary, since genital configurations/functionality can be a bit of a wildcard.) Snails take an egalitarian approach to sex; necrontyr categorically do not. Both parties consenting to be darted would be considered weird and perverted.

Anyway. While many necrontyr do only have one set of functional reproductive organs by the time they reach adulthood (either because the other set was always vestigial or because it gets removed to reduce the spread of cancer), both sets are usually present in some fashion. Sterility would be fairly common, but medical technology is able to mitigate some of that; the lower classes, at least, need to be able to breed like rabbits to feed the war machine. Gender is mostly divorced from reproductive role by the time biotransference happens; in addition to male and female, there would have been at least one other normative gender, possibly two (to account for both null and multimodal genders). Gender fluidity would have been common and largely unremarkable for necrontyr. (It's still largely unremarkable for necrons, but it's not particularly common; they're mostly fixed with whatever gender they had at biotransference.)

The dart sac would be located in their mouths, under the tongue; it's meant to be ejected into the soft tissue of the mouth, but it's sharp enough to pierce the skin anywhere. (This does mean kissing can be Complicated, or at least somewhat subversive, depending on everyone's social standing.) Normally it gets broken down and absorbed by the recipient's body; pulling one out tends to be extremely uncomfortable/painful.

Kind of going off ancient greek/roman sexual mores here; it would be entirely unthinkable, for example, for Obyron to be the penetrative partner in either sense with Zahndrekh. (Then again, Zahndrekh is a shameless pervert.) Sex between two social equals is generally accompanied by an agreement- sometimes tacit, sometimes explicit- about not using the darts. Doing so would be an overt act of aggression. Often, to prevent any potential misunderstandings, they'll voluntarily empty their dart sacs ahead of time.

Forcing someone to empty their dart sac prior to sex is a pretty common form of sexual humiliation. When done voluntarily, it's a sign of submission or respect. (Darts usually have a refractory period of a few days, depending on the person's overall health. Single-chambered dart sacs are typical, but multiples aren't unheard of. Leads to occasional 'surprise! You thought I was submitting to you but now you're getting fucked instead' situations.)

The exact cocktail of hormones and neurochemicals it injects the other person with would vary somewhat between individuals, but can potentially vary widely between dynasties or social classes due to genetic/geographic/cultural differences. Some might include a mild paralytic agent; some sort of euphoric effect is also common. (This is all in addition to the original function, which, uh. Is to make the recipient more likely to get pregnant.) The shape of the dart varies in a similar fashion, ranging from a straight, smooth bone spike to something more elaborate with barbs or fluting.

(A bloody mouth can signify a lot of things to necrontyr- in addition to violence or illness, it's also inherently erotic. Necrons who remember this try very, very hard not to think about it when confronted with Flayed Ones.)

(Yenekh: *very sexily smearing his mouth with blood and draping himself all over Oltyx*

Crypteks have their own social hierarchies within their conclaves, but they're usually not as concerned with sexual politics as nobles and the military tend to be. Most people believe that crypteks all lace their love darts with poison, and the crypteks don't try to discourage that assumption. Some of them probably do, tbh.

Oltyx: *oblivious, can't stop thinking about how pretty Yenekh is*

The rest of the flayed ones: *still not sure why their king and his consort haven't fucked nasty in a pile of carrion yet. Maybe they need a bigger pile of carrion? Yes, that's probably it. They will take care of this for their beloved king.*)

Necrons, of course, don't have genitalia, but they can still stab each other with love dart analogues- this ranges from things like executive buffer override packages sent via interstitial channel, to actually physically jamming a spike of necrodermis into a neural input node. (From a purely aesthetic/romantic standpoint I also like the idea of love darts constructed out of crystallized core flux. The first time Zahndrekh does that to Obyron he goes into complete cascade failure and takes several hours to reboot.)

If Orikan and Trazyn did have sex pre-biotransference, one of them would have darted the other without permission (probably accidentally, being that they are both intensely nerdy losers and thus Bad At Sex by necrontyr standards), setting off a sixty-five million year hate-sex feud that neither of them can even remember the origin of. Orikan would've gone after Trazyn's mouth with a pair of pliers at some point; joke's on him, Trazyn's into that.

(Trazyn does have a collection of necrontyr love darts in the archives- all of them ones he collected personally when he was alive. He has no absolutely no memory of slutting it up back in the day, though, and probably doesn't even realize what they are. Sannet, unfortunately, does remember, and wishes he didn't. He has had to put up with so, so much over the years.)

#nattering #warhams #well i have now officially thought about this Too Much ahahaha #this is what i get for trying to be funny; now everything's gotten slightly out of hand #am i even going to use any of these ideas? who knows. they are free to a good home

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i9messi · 1 year

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Joao Felix comforting the reader on her period, I know some people are uncomfortable with this topic so don't feel pressured to write about it. PS love your writings!

(thank you for requesting!)

Sweet company — João Félix

Word count — 752

joaõ's masterlist

It wasn’t a good day, your period had come and you hated it. You didn’t want to move around your house, so you lay down on the couch in the living room, trying to spend your time and forget for a moment what was happening to your body. Your stomach was hungrier than usual and you felt certain stabbing pains in the lower part of your belly.

You heard sounds, someone opening your house door. You quickly saw that your boyfriend came from training, with a smile on his face that vanished when your eyes met. You felt bad and João noticed right away.

"What happened?"

"I don’t feel very well today, João." you explained the rest of the situation and he didn’t hesitate to come to you and lie down on the couch next to you.

"I’m here now, carinho." you rest your head on his chest, hearing the soft thrum of his heartbeat. It was a warm embrace that brought only peace. "Not that I think cuddling will fix everything, but I’m sure it can’t make things worse, you know?"

You smiled at him, as he stroked your back. Your boyfriend left kisses across your face, paying special attention to your lips.

"I’m never more at peace than I am in your arms." you admitted.

"I’m glad I helped with something, I just want you to feel better and I hate myself because I can’t."

"You are doing a lot, actually. I could stay in your arms all day."

"You should, we should. There’s nothing else I’d rather do than spend the whole day hugging you."

João wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was also your friend and confidant. You had all your trust in him and he'd never let you down. Every time you felt bad he was there to try to help you, you had the kind of relationship in which both of you tried to lean on each other. He firmly fulfilled his promise and you lay on the couch, hugged, for a long time. You talked about a lot of different topics, totally serious topics about your future plans, to even stupid and silly topics.

"Please don’t ask me if I’d still love you if you turned into a zombie." he joked and you raised an eyebrow.

"You’d still love me if I turned into a zombie?"

"Of course. But you know, I’d have to be careful because you’re not gonna want to kiss me, you’re gonna want to bite me. Maybe I should let you bite me, so I can also become a zombie and we’ll be two zombies in love against the humans."

You looked at your boyfriend and left a kiss on his lips. "How’d I get so lucky to have you?"

"I’m the lucky one here, you’re my girlfriend." João rubbed his nose against you, and he softly smiled at you. "How about I make us something to eat and we go watch a movie marathon?"

João got up and you told him you were going to help him, but before you could move, he told you to stay in the coach.

"No, stay there. Don’t you even think of lifting a finger today. I’ll take care of everything, querida."

Your body was still aching, so you let him quietly cook. You covered yourself with the blanket you had brought, and while your dedicated boyfriend was doing something so you could eat while watching the movie, you looked for what you could watch. João came back a while later, with a bowl of popcorn and lots of chocolates and sweets. They were too many.

"Should we watch Barbie movies?" You proposed and he nodded.

While you were watching the movie, you wrapped yourself around his torso. An intimate moment where time slowed down. His hold was strong and reassuring. His mouth came to your face and he left a kiss on the tip of your nose, another on your forehead and one on each cheek.

"Babe, you should watch the movie."

"You’re so pretty... I could look at you for hours."

"João, stop being cute."

You were so in love with him, your heart was beating for him.

"Eu te amo"

"I love you too, João."

You let him keep seeing you, still hugging his body and hearing his heart beating. Once you moved to go to the bathroom and when you did, he asked you if you were okay. You spent the whole afternoon lying down, with João telling you he loved you.

#joao felix imagines #joao felix blurb #joao felix fluff #joao felix x reader #joao felix #joão félix #joão felix #joao felix imagine #joao felix one shot #chelsea fc #football imagines #football player fanfic #football players

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f0xgl0v3 · 1 month

Text

How does one Elias Bouchard hold his Pipe/The overall murder scene

Tw this like entire post is about the proper way to hold a pipe if you wanna effectively hit someone with it several times repeatedly :3 also spoilers for MAG 80

Guys I am simply a writer and this is just for writing and thought experiment purposes, none of this shall or should be applied to real life and it’s just for the haha extended sounds of brutal pipe murder-

What has come to my life-? I’m talking about Elias Bouchard and how he holds the Pipe to murder people- I, there will be actual Percy Jackson stuff soon. Maybe talking about Camp Jupiter and armor and gear and stuff or something however,

Everyone draws Elias with really weird hand positions on the pipe-? That’s a weird thing to say and the art is fantastic but if your beating someone with a Pipe then there seems to be a way I always thought in my head-

Let’s, for the sake that I’m halfway through season 4 consider the only Pipe murder I am currently aware of would be Jurgen Leitner’s, we can work with this. Elias is standing over him at the other side of a desk while Jurgen is seated I believe-? There are a couple ways we can go about this,

1) Elias hits him while they both are in the neutral position at the desk

2) Elias walks over to Jurgen’s side during the conversation and hits him then

3) Jurgen stands up from his chair and then Elias hits him.

I have had to listen to the sound clip so many times for this- I- okay. So, the beginning of the murder still is Jurgen talking, I think audibly a bit worried. I’d like to make the assumption that while Elias is like “bird stuff always a risk about death” that is when the pipe is revealed, Jurgen is taking the moment to try and reason with him and I think 2 and 3 are the most viable due to the sound they use. In 1’s scenario Elias wouldn’t get enough strength in that first swing (due to the desk being in the way, and Elias most likely having to lean over the desk to try and get a strong strike.

Then, the sound- I believe Elias initially hits Jurgen from the side of the head, think like the same ‘row’ that your temples are on, that vague side of the head. Jurgen is heard with a grunt by the first hit; we don’t hear him fall or anything (which makes me suspect it could be a situation of Elias walking over to the other side of the table) and it doesn’t really sound like Elias moves where he hits very much- continuing to strike that original spot; otherwise we’d likely hear the crunch of bone. Am I making the assumption that the sound design would include the crunch and that I would know what hitting a skull with a metal pipe is, oh yeah totally.

Now, that settles how I think this entire thing played out, Elias revealing the pipe as he walks over to the side, Jurgen looks up in old sad man still seated and is trying to reason with Elias, maybe he even attempts to get up and that is when Elias strikes in the right side of his head (just what makes sense to me, it could be the left either it wouldn’t matter much) and repeatedly hits there 11 times (yes I counted the strikes we hear, no I don’t have anything better to do with my time because I’m putting off writing a script) before like dipping or whatever.

Now, the pipe posture if you will. I see so many drawings of Elias’s hands like this,

Raised, and for all intents and purposes from an art sense it’s rad. It’s a dynamic pose and stuff, and of course this is not a critique on artists (who are way better than me) and how they want to draw this fictional man hold his pipe. However this is my brainrot talking on the ‘hey I think this is how he’d get the most effective swing’ because I’ve listened to two seasons back to back and I no longer have a brain.

But; Elias Bouchard wants the most bang for his buck so to speak. I think holding the Pipe like the tried and true baseball bat would provide this. Elias holding it like in my very bad diagram is good if he’d want to poke or stab someone with the pipe, but it’s really effective if you can get that swing in. So yeah, baseball style; hands together near the end of the pipe and over a shoulder or even over his head if you want to be silly with his posing.

Uh, haha okay. I’m sorry but the rot is all consuming and I’ve been thinking about him a lot, also like Peter Lukas and a bunch of the other sillies but this kinda- forced itself out while I was looking at art of the scene. I, uh, :3 that’s all. I like thinking about the mapping and layout and planning of scenes like these and how the visuals might’ve looked if there were visuals. I promise I probably won’t make any more posts like this for a solid while (however, talking about Bryce Lawerence and my thing in SoN are-imagining that he was the one to kill Gwen… maybe.)

#hehe :3 #idk how to tag this #the magnus archives #tmagp spoilers #tma podcast #tmagp theory #this is really stupid #ridiculous even #I’m sorry if you just want to see the funny pjo stuff I post-#elias bouchard #love that sick little rat man #sorry #okay bye

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maaarshieee · 2 years

Note

OKAY SO I SLEPT ON THIS IDEA AND I LOVE IT EVEN MORE SO IM GONNA THROW IT AT U AND U CAN DECIDE AS WELL

so mr dottore wears gloves obviously. just like literally most of the genshin characters. but what if this;

the reader has been w him for a while, but he’s very adamant on not showing his hands to u. so u decide to ask him about it and basically he trues to brush it off, only to tell u about an accident he had during the akademiya that left his hands scarred and just not good looking.

how the reader takes that info is up to u 🤭 i just love the idea of little things w dottore that make him vulnerable to his partner, whether he believes it does or not

- dottore stan (srry if this was long i typed quite a bit 😭)

⎯⎯ ୨ 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 ୧ ⎯⎯

➢ Iʟ Dᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ x Gɴ!Rᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➢ 1.6k ᴡᴏʀᴅs ┊ Fʟᴜғғ

➢ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

a/n - DOTTORE ANON I LITERALLY HAD THE SAME IDEA IN MY DRAFTS BUT YOURS MAKES MUCH MORE SENSE THAN HIS MASK,,, cuz scars on his face are not canon but hands??? yes yes yesyesy ily/p, ALSO I DONT MIND IF YOU SEND A LONG MESSAGE! I LOVE READING DETAILED REQUESTS <3 titled "scars", have a good day/night! (i aspire to be the home of soft dottores)

↬ cw: established long-term relationship with reader, mentions of experiments, canon typical violence, usage of 'zandik' for dottore's real name, non canon scars i just had a brainrot at the scars part

You never knew the reason why Dottore had started wearing gloves back then.

While you were away in a different region for a thesis project, as well as a couple errands to complete for Zandik, when you were both back at Sumeru Akademiya, an accident occurred relating to his experiments and his hands.

You never really understood why he hid them from you, but other segments he's made also refused to remove their gloves unless they were created before the accident. Even in bed, on occasions he'd lay with you, he'd have them on. You've never complained though since you liked the feeling of his gloved hands on your skin.

But still, can he fault you for your ever-growing curiosity over your lover? It has been years and he's yet to reveal what was underneath those smooth cloth that hid the scars, you assumed, within.

"Is it really that bad?" You asked one day, exasperated as you watched him write on his whiteboard, completely focused, but also listening to your words. He'd never dare to miss anything you'd say to him. Dottore only threw you a glance, before proceeding to write equations you could barely comprehend. "What are you addressing?"

You gesture at his hands, to which he paused with a small frown tugging on his lips. "I mean, it's been so long since I've seen your hands, Dottore." You stated, curiously eyeing his gloves and taking a step closer to him. "I never knew what happened to them as well, but you don't really have to tell me, I just..." You faltered when he capped the marker he held and hid his hands behind his back, letting out an unamused scoff.

"Is this really necessary?" How stubborn you are, you've never learnt to give up on things that piqued your never-ending interest in the unknown. He marvels at that unchangeable trait of yours, but unfortunately, the only secret he's ever held from you was included.

"No," You admitted, but you were unbothered by his dismissive nature, having grown used to it when the topic relates to his hands. "I am merely curious and quite concerned as to why my lover is ashamed of revealing his hands to me." Each word you've greatly emphasized stabbed through him with annoyance, especially when you've assumed he's ashamed of such trivial matters.

Him? Ashamed? He's done so many things to others that you were aware of and yet you say he's ashamed of his hands all because of his scars? And not because it is the hands of a sinner? Honestly, you're one thing that Dottore fails to decipher.

A scowl formed on his lips, revealing his sharp teeth as he clenched his hands into fists behind his back. "Dear, I must ask you to kindly put an end to spouting nonsense." He hissed through his teeth, glaring threateningly at you. But you knew that glare and the hard tone in his voice weren't genuine. Whenever he expressed anger towards you, they always meant something else. Defensive, if you will.

At this point, the other segments had to pause from whatever they were doing, listening to the words they exchange and observing what would happen. "I see them often tremble when you need to remove them when I'm around, you know?" You stated, his lips now a thin line, which made you regret ever mentioning that to him. "I- well, granted I've never seen them whenever you do, but I notice things, okay?"

You raised your arms and sighed in defeat, taking a step back from Dottore. Well, it has been years. Curiosity will forever haunt you like an irremovable itch but you'll refrain from ever mentioning it if it always riles him up like this. It was time for you to give up. What you didn't catch sight of was the way Dottore tensed when he heard you sigh, a frown evident on your features.

"My apologies, love. See to it in the future that I'll cease ever mentioning your gloves, or your hands, I wish to not further upset you."

It seemed to subdue the growing frustration he's had with the topic for many years now, satisfied with your words. "Very well, then." He didn't say it, but you understood that he wanted to say his thanks to you, a small smile on your lips. And with that, you took your leave for your other duties as part of the Fatui and Dottore went back to continuing on with his projects. You thought that would be the end of it since he's oddly secretive about it.

Until one day, he decided to open up to you out of the blue.

It wasn't often that Dottore— not a segment, would join you in your shared private chambers and shed himself from his thick layers of clothing, leaving himself in his dress shirt, pants, and gloves. It was... certainly odd for Dottore to be this affectionate, especially when he allowed you to wrap yourself with his coat, which he always used in Zapolyarny Palace or his laboratory and would snatch it from you when he spots you wearing it.

Dottore almost turned his heels and left you by yourself once again when you kept staring at him with wide eyes, lips parted in shock whilst you buried yourself deeper into his coat. "Quit staring." He seethes with a scowl and you broke into the biggest grin he's seen for a while, finally seating himself next to you. "Come," Without hesitation, you immediately flung yourself toward him and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close as you place yourself in between his legs.

"Now now," You started, a pleased sigh escaping your lips when you felt his arms wrap around you as well, fingers tracing the structure of the bones on your back, trailing up your spine and to your nape, "This is quite the surprise, it's only been..." You hummed in thought, cheek pressed against his chest, "A few weeks since you've given me so much love and affection."

Dottore could hear the tease in the tone of your voice, and yet, perhaps just for tonight, when he chose to be a tad more vulnerable towards you? "Would you prefer if I was more affectionate, then?" And you stumbled in your words, giving him an incredulous look, hands now cupping his exposed cheeks. "Oh my, d-did you hit your head? Did something happen!?"

He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at your exaggerated reaction and pushed your hands away, instead leading your hand to the end of his gloves, encouraging you to take them off. Now you were completely at a loss for words, sitting up and eyeing his masked face, scanning for any reactions that could give away anything to what he feels at the moment.

But you caught no signs of any usual emotions you see he wears on his face on a daily basis. Irritation, uninterest, anger, or any of the sorts. And you've always been graced by his sincerity only for you, but somehow, this felt a little different.

"If you're not opposed to it..." Your eyes went back to his gloves, a little nervous, "Then, shall I?" This time, he couldn't help it. "Just get on with it." He sighed and rolled his eyes, which earned a snort from you, finally feeling more at ease at this much more familiar behavior, and slowly pulled off his gloves.

You observed the scars on his hands— from the tips of his fingers down to his wrist, they faded to a deep shade of turquoise, and scars scattered all across his hands and arms, similar to what they call; "Lichtenberg scars?" You quired, fingertips tracing the patterns splayed on his skin, fascinated. "Just what happened in your old lab that caused such marks? And the coloring— what the hell?"

Dottore would never admit this to you, but he felt his heart still the more you spoke, anticipating unpleasantry from your lips though Dottore found it odd that he never felt this way until you've finally seen them (no, he has, he was merely in denial).

But of course, since when have you spoken badly of him? With the same adoring smile, you always wore, your eyes sparkled in wonder open further observation. "These patterns are rather lovely, in my opinion. Compliments the dark colors of... well, wherever these hues of blue came from." He had unknowingly let out a breath of relief, lacing his fingers with yours, a small scowl once again etched on his lips.

"Don't speak of them as if they were for design." He warned, though, despite his hard tone, his touch was completely different. Soft, warm, and contained gentleness you've never thought he'd have in him. "Have you forgotten I acquired them through an accident?"

"Then, do they still hurt?" You simply asked, eyes gazing upon his masked face, head slightly tilted to the side. Dottore was about to deny it but instead shook his head. "Occasionally, yes. Though you needn't worry since I can barely feel them."

He paused when you leaned down, lips attached to the scars littered on his hands. Baffled, he almost pulled his hands away from you but refrained to do so. Not when your lips feel so divine on his aching skin. "I... what are you...?" It wasn't often he'd falter.

"No one's ever kissed them," You answered, eyes filled with mirth once you saw you'd taken him off guard, small giggles bubbling from your chest. "I'll take any opportunity I get but I can stop if you do not like it—"

"Continue," Dottore said quickly, startling you but you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head at his antics, and peppered his skin with kisses, while his other hand caressed your cheek lovingly, a slight upward curve at the corners of his lips.

"Does this mean I'm allowed to see more of your uncovered hands, darling?" You pushed your luck, and it seems he's rather giving tonight, making your heart race.

"Perhaps, if you hadn't annoyed me before you asked."

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#yaepublishinghouse #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #:;marshie.writes #:;requested #:;drabble #:;il.dottore #:;dottore.stan.anon

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travalerray · 5 months

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please tell me about your chengxian timetravel au

[The Grandmaster of Accidental Time Travel]

Omg, thank you for the ask!!

Okay so. Basically, the AU starts from Jin Guangyao's stab being very fatal and Jiang Cheng dying and returning to when he was ten years old.

Most of his concentration is focused on a) stopping Wei Wuxian b) stopping Wei Wuxian c) stopping Wei Wuxian— you get the idea. Except we all have read the novel and know that Wei Wuxian is real bad at listening to Jiang Cheng. Or anyone really.

So shenanigans follow. Except due to certain things (Jiang Cheng's knowledge of future events, things getting shifted by a little bit, a shift in attitude and a certain case of fever etc etc), things keep getting shifted. Lan Qiren is called to Qinghe earlier, they discover the skeleton of Qingfeng-jun's teacher, fight the Waterborne Abyss muuuuch earlier and somehow also manage to prevent Wei Wuxian from getting sent back to Yunmeng. How? Well, Jiang Cheng kinda gets in the middle of the fight, because he is trying. A little. To avoid. Jin Zixuan fucking dying. And he may or may not have gotten a horrible reaction from the fight. The reaction also may or may not have been exaggerated due to certain reasons.

The engagement is still dissolved. by a letter. All hail the greatest father of all time, Jiang Fengmian.

Now, in the background what did happen is. Lan Wangji manages to develop an unfortunate one sided crush on Jiang Cheng. Lan Xichen thinks it's hilarious and pairs them up for a night hunt. It goes horribly, important things are revealed and Wei Wuxian finally gets to the gay station without reading the name of the station. Everyone suffers.

the real reason for the time travel is a fuzzy thing I have in mind which involves taking a certain element from 2ha (Three Forbidden Techniques) and fusing it with the ghost path invented by Wei Wuxian. I am thinking more specifically that the creature ZhanCheng do encounter on their unfortunate night hunt could give a nod to the two souls residing in Jiang Cheng's body (while he keeps having strange dreams that shouldn't belong to him. Now, I personally think that the idea of some of Wei Wuxian's tendencies to be transmitted onto Jiang Cheng via golden core exchange fucks heavily but like. What if they literally ate each other. What if I didn't know where I began and you ended. What if separating you from me would kill me. What if you doomed us both. What if—) which would fuck him over more. I mean, there's still Wen Qing left who is also trying to change the past to save her side of people, but that would involve another fiasco. Anyways

Jiang Cheng being an actually good sect leader trying to convince his father (who reportedly is like That™) that a war is coming is going to be horrendous. On top of which, Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Yanli are 100% convinced that the fever knocked Jiang Cheng silly in the head and made him worse with auditory problems, while Jiang Cheng is going, "I am acting like a normal 16 year old. Which is totally a normal and possible thing to want to achieve". Wei Wuxian himself isn't normal but even he thinks Jiang Cheng's habits are a little insane at times. Like. Diving into the lake for five hours at a time (tfw you used to cry in the lake while helping people dig out your family relics but can't tell your still alive family that lest they bring every single doctor in the jianghu to Lotus Pier AGAIN). Or other such things. I do think he might be able to convince Yu Ziyuan faster than Jiang Fengmian if he tried hard enough. But that's after the Qishan Wen Conference and after he finally says fuck it and invents evidence to get Yunmeng Jiang moving and contemplates the best way to alert the Gusu Lan Sect about the burning.

Since this is a slowburn, Chengxian do not kiss properly until like the end of the war preparations (before which Jiang Cheng strangles Meng Yao, panics, runs off, has a breakdown, swallows a whole vat of soup, cries and curses random things). Since this is also a slowburn the POV shifting is funny because it is:

JC: A war is coming. I need to make sure people do not die and Wei Wuxian does not give me a golden core and become a demonic cultivator. That's all I want, really, the fact that he's probably going to end up with some other guy is definitely not heartbreaking—

WWX: *trying hard to be normal* Shidi looks hot when talking about array formations. Did talking to Zewu-jun turn me into a cutsleeve.

anyways.

Since Jiang Cheng had managed to gain the trust of Gusu Lan Sect, the Cloud Recesses is mostly saved, which means Qingfeng-jun leads the war effort this time. Which means that the time travel plot which actually had been resting on the back burner kicks up since his backstory is very much connected to the whole schtick going on. Which also means that we get to see Yu Ziyuan yelling people's ears off as per usual, but this time it's not Wei Wuxian.

I do think about the reveal though. since in the original world, Wei Wuxian is dead for the second time and has given up his soul in trying to bring Jiang Cheng back. When Jiang Cheng figures out the whole situation, things are going to Not Go Well. Because that's exactly what he had been trying to prevent! Why can't they ever be happy without one of them being dead like that! What do you mean happiness can't be found without being writ in blood!

.......Wei Wuxian is going to have a stroke learning this.

#kk's ask tag #oops sorry for talking for so long #the grandmaster of accidental time travel AU #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #chengxian #mdzs #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #mo dao zu shi

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

Text

Not A Typical Weekend….(Little Duck au)

pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader (Momma Evans)

summary: it’s back to the hospital you go, only this time, it may not be the news you’re both looking for…

warnings: angst, mentions of anxiety, some tears, very panicky Arlie, comfort of course <;3

a/n: i was feeling angsty so here’s this…i promise i won’t torture this family anymore, I guess this may be a two parter?? considering I kinda left the ending open...? also I hate my writing again so maybe thats why I kinda cut it that way LOL

word count: 952

You were hoping the pain after your accident would become more bearable after 5 days at home, but when you were still dealing with cramping, and now stabbing pains in your chest, Chris wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came time to go back to the hospital. Poor Arlie had been beside herself all morning as she watched you wince and moan as the waves of pain passed through you. Lisa was just as worried, but tried to keep Arlie calm and away from a potential panic attack

“Momma no go pwease no go!”

You frowned, opening your arms for her so you could hold her for a few moments

“My love, I’ll be okay, I promise you…momma’s gotta get fixed up so I can be all better again”

“Don’t wanna lose momma…”

Your heart was breaking at the tears that lined her eyes, slowly slipping out every few seconds

“Arlie Mae, you’re not going to lose me, I’ll be home before you know it, I need you to help Nana with your brother, he’s going to need his big sister while Daddy and I are gone”

She sniffled

“Okay momma…I-I try to help Nana”

“Thank you baby, I know you’re scared, but I’ll be home before you know it, so I need you to eb a big brave girl for me”

You kissed her cheek upon hearing Chris call your name from the door, standing slowly to kiss Wesley and hug Lisa, you gave everyone one last goodbye before grabbing an overnight bag, and some snacks. It was hard to tell how long you’d be at the hospital until you arrived and got checked out, so overpacking may come in handy, even if you usually avoided it.

“Ready to go honey?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be I suppose…I just hope it’s nothing serious”

Chris placed a kiss on your temple after helping you get settled into the front seat of the car

“I hope so too, we’ll just have to wait and see now…”

You nodded folding your hands into your lap, you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t freaking out a little bit. The prospect of it being horrible news compared to slightly okay news, now seeming to become more real, the closer to the hospital you got. Knowing Chris would be panicking just as much as you figured Arlie still may be at home, you remained quiet, and optimistic that you would be in and out of there in no time.

“Mrs. Evans, I am glad you decided to come back in to see us, albeit not the best circumstances, better to be safe than sorry right?”

You were laying in a hospital bed, a private room once again at Mass Gen, you’d had numerous counts of blood taken, a few scans, x-rays, an entire workup because Chris nor you wanted to leave without being absolutely sure you were one hundred percent okay to go back home

“So, we have taken a look at all the tests and scans we completed, the pain your experiencing is two things, one of them which is a chip in your collarbone, that has come loose and will require surgery in order to have that bone stabilized again”

Your hand reached for Chris’s looking for some comfort, he was quick to take it, holding it tightly in his, eyes trained on the doctor who had what appeared to be more bad news

“You also have a collapsed lung, which worries me most because of the duration it seems to have been collapsed for, that is going to require immediate surgery, so we are going to take you down within the hour…any questions I can answer?”

When Chris started speaking with him you zoned out, your mind racing through every endless possibility that could potentially happen while you are on the operating table. It felt like your brain was spinning out of control, your eyes now glossed over, you were freaking out, but Chris could see it, so he promptly held your face in his hands

“Hey, hey…baby breathe, you gotta breathe for me beautiful…”

“I-I don’t want to d-die, what if-what if”

Chris shook his head

“No, we aren’t going to do that. You’re not going anywhere y/n, we have the best doctors looking after you, they’re going to help you so we can go home to the kids, so we can live the rest of our lives together, you are going to be okay”

He rested his forehead against yours as you closed your eyes, attempting to get your breathing back under control, and after a few minutes you managed to slow your heart rate again, Chris placed a few kisses to your cheeks before settling on your lips just as the pre op team came in

“I’ll be here the whole time, I promise, I love you so much”

“I love you too Chris, don’t ever forget that”

Chris wanted to say more, he felt like he needed you, but once that team of nurses had rushed into the room to prep you for two back-to-back surgeries, he knew he needed to step back and let them get to work. You were in the best care, and the best hands possible here but that wasn’t enough to keep the anxious thoughts and worries away. Even as he sat down in the uncomfortable chair by the window to call home, that sinking feeling never left him, seeing Arlie and Wesley helped to distract his mind. He truthfully didn’t know how long you’d been in the OR, but he hoped to god it wouldn’t be long so he could have you back in his arms, because life without his better half wasn’t something he was willing to settle for nor think about.

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