#But alas we are left to find mods for it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mlobsters · 3 months

Text

supernatural s1e10 asylum (w. richard hatem)

(this is a rewatch, so spoilers abound)

search up, as my kids would say, what to do when your fixation takes a left turn. spn is definitely still my main thing, but i also just completely lost interest in trying to watch it again. i thought having the project of doing my little writeups for the eps i hadn't done would carry me along, like it did through the episodes/season i struggled with, but alas. not so much

lot of the little xfiles sound effect being used in this teaser bit with the cops searching the building. ps i've learned a lot about the history of abuse against disabled folks including the history of them being placed in institutions like this from imani barbarin (crutches and spice) and current disability advocacy etc; give her a follow.

dude that's a sweet little car, wonder if that's someone on the cast/crew's. in a different life i would have been down to mod my car too (i have a little 2006 black acura rsx that i love dearly)

the coloring and darkness i can't tell if that drip out of the ghostly possessed cop is blood or the black goo lol

such a pretty shot i love it and it's got that @dappermouth gothic americana vibe in spades and i kinda wanna paint it somehow. juxtaposed with the most bland boring font in the title screen lol

DEAN Caleb hasn't heard from him? SAM Nope. And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Anything leads in there?

thanks for the links to the characters from the transcript, wiki! trying to pay attention to what all the boys know about other hunters etc. also kind of creepy note in the caleb wiki entry: According to Jo's Journal, Jo was forced by her mother to refer to Caleb as "Uncle Caleb."

SAM After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing. DEAN I know! (He rummages through his duffel) Where the hell is my cellphone? SAM You know, he could be dead for all we know. DEAN Don't say that! He's not dead! He's – he's... SAM He's what? He's hiding? He's busy?

the sass on the "he's busy?" made me laugh out loud

SAM (snorts) This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job. DEAN Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there? SAM Maybe he's not? I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing. DEAN Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me! SAM This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates? DEAN Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.

(little crispy R on weird)

SAM makes a bitchface and sighs.

okay transcriber 😂 dean's so relieved to get some orders

psst dean i think you're supposed to act at least a little mad or somethin after getting thrown around by fake-mad sam

i was trying to find a gif of dean spider monkey'ing over the chainlink fence but instead ended up in the tags of a gifset of that scene with sam shoving dean and apparently some people read this as dean was hurt (emotionally) by sam being too rough with him because he's mad about other stuff? which is 100% not what i got from his reaction. if that's what he was going for, i did not pick it up

DEAN Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i'd expect a "look" to be like, wtf bro? not kind of... dazed and almost smiling

well. i can't find a gif of what i was looking for and i am reminded of why i don't search for spn stuff across the site vs just a blog that i know rb's lots of gifsets. i think that's enough for tonight

i just made the gifs instead 🧍‍♂️🤸‍♂️🧍‍♂️

also realizing why watching these first season episodes is especially exhausting, there's so much backstory and and character establishing going on that i have Thoughts about damned near every scene when they're talking, so it's just a lot of me prattling on and on. it's like a book report for every episode. because if i'm gonna talk about the episode, i'm gonna Talk About the Episode.

DEAN Let me know if you see any dead people, Haley Joel. SAM Dude, enough. DEAN I'm serious. You gotta be careful, all right? Ghosts are attracted to that whole ESP thing you got going on. SAM I told you, it's not ESP! I just have strange vibes sometimes. Weird dreams. DEAN Yeah, whatever. Don't ask, don't tell.

a) you see dead people too, dean b) ->

Pride Program offers personal perspective on ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ era

By Stefanie Hauck DLA Land and Maritime Public Affairs

When Jason Guthrie was in the Navy, he thrived for the first time in his life, garnering many accolades, challenging assignments and promotions. But one moment brought his upward trajectory to a screeching halt, resulting in his discharge in 1996 after four years of service. Guthrie, who served during the “don’t ask, don’t tell” era, spoke about his experiences as a gay man trying to find his way in an unaccepting world, during the 2024 Defense Logistics Agency Land and Maritime Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Pride Month program June 5 at the DLA Land and Maritime Operations Center Auditorium on Defense Supply Center Columbus. “Don’t ask, don’t tell” stipulated that gay service members were not required to disclose their sexual orientation, but could still be dishonorably discharged if they were discovered to be gay. Thousands of service members – including Guthrie - were drummed out of the service under the law until its repeal in late 2010.

... His early interactions with other closeted gay military members around him, eventually led to his acceptance that he was gay at a time when “don’t ask, don’t tell” was the new law of the land. Guthrie said at the time it all seemed so straight forward. “You don’t ask me, I don’t tell you,” he said about the law. “It seemed to make perfect sense to me but many of my fellow closeted service members did not agree with that compromise. So, we all did the best we could to live our lives and pursue our military careers.” He focused on his work and was determined to be the best sailor that he could be. And by keeping social distractions to a minimum, he thrived in his early Navy career being promoted often and receiving many awards while working in strategy and policy for the chief of Naval Operations at the the Pentagon. ... After a tour in Bahrain, where he worked as an awards writer for the commander of U.S. Naval Forces Central Command, he arrived at his last duty station in 1996 at a low point after ending his first serious relationship prior to rotating back to the United States. “I was in the U.S. military and in the closet,” he said, “I knew I would need to transfer again, and he would not be able to join me.” What would be his last assignment was challenging for him in many ways. He had a roommate again after living independently for a while, and the people he worked with resented his rapid rise in rank and his previous ‘cushy’ assignments. “I was in a low mental state and had a hard time connecting with people,” he said. This is where he said he made the biggest mistake of his military life by inviting someone into his room while his roommate was away at work. He thought it would be OK to do so because his roommate who was a flight mechanic was on a different shift. However, his roommate did show up while he had that individual in his room. “That’s when I heard a sound I’ll never forget. A key entering the door lock,” Guthrie said. His roommate did not say a word, went about his business and left while Guthrie and the individual were hiding under the bed covers. “I went to work the next day thanking God I dodged that bullet,” he said, “But my relief was soon replaced with fear when I was called into the command master chief’s office a few days later.” That conversation revolved around working out the issue with his roommate, but the impasse was so great it was reported to the unit’s legal office, resulting in several rounds of questioning until Guthrie admitted that there was another man in his room and that he was gay. The next four months were torturous for Guthrie, while he went through the process of getting discharged from the Navy.

i was gonna include some history of DADT but i think this story is more important. the policy only ended in 2011. i know don't ask don't tell was a common punchline for many years, i'm the same age as them, i get it. i also think it's gross. it's that casual homophobia of the time period where people are sort of more openly chill about queer people theoretically, but they're still a joke. and the joke here i guess is sam's psychic stuff is freaking dean out and he doesn't want to hear it? but he's the one that brought it up. whatever, man.

(wikipedia) After the policy was introduced in 1993, the military discharged over 13,000 troops from the military under DADT.[111][231][232] ... In September 2021, on the 10th anniversary of the Don't Ask, Don't Tell repeal, President Joe Biden announced that the Veterans Administration would start providing benefits for service members who received other-than-honorable discharges (before DADT was enacted and while it was in effect) because of their sexual orientation.[215]

anyway. sigh.

DEAN Hey Sam, who do you think is the hotter psychic: Patricia Arquette, Jennifer Love Hewitt, or you? SAM pushes DEAN, who laughs.

so we gotta round it out with a little bit of calling sam a girl, of course. people call this flirting, i call it teasing with sort of a rotten core of a joke. i have a tag for it, as i go through the rewatch - the more overt (to me) things about masculinity/gender policing in the show. i think i miss some of that stuff. hey fellas, is it girly to have psychic powers

DEAN Man. Electro-shock. Lobotomies. They did some twisted stuff to these people. Kinda like my man Jack in Cuckoo's Nest. (makes crazy eyes and grins at SAM)

at least his impression bombed :p (my mental check: jack nicholson is the actor, jack nicklaus is the golfer; showing my age, natch)

i don't mean to pick on dean. just unfortunately the writers saddled him with most of the ~problematic~ lines. this is another case where i tend to zoom out and blame the writing and mentally keep it a little separated from the character. which isn't fair but it allows me to continue liking him :p and i'll even give that okay, so he was more homophobic as a character at this age in this time period and he grew past it. which he did, mostly. but then they'll have something like the 8x23 thing and then i squarely blame the writers (and honestly probably jackles too) and keep it separate from dean entirely because it's inconsistent to him at that point and nonsensical.

woof. shut up, bro.

SAM Dean. When are we going to talk about it? DEAN Talk about what? SAM About the fact Dad's not here. DEAN Oh. I see. How ’bout...never. SAM I'm being serious, man. He sent us here... DEAN So am I, Sam. Look, he sent us here, he obviously wants us here. We'll pick up the search later. SAM It doesn't matter what he wants. DEAN See. That attitude? Right there? That is why I always get the extra cookie. SAM Dad could be in trouble, we should be looking for him. We deserve some answers, Dean. I mean, this is our family we're talking about. DEAN I understand that, Sam, but he's given us an order. SAM So what, we gotta always follow Dad's orders? DEAN Of course we do.

i know you'll come around, dean, but let that simmer for a second. that's fucked up.

laughing at the idea that you could get a same day/next day appointment with a psychiatrist even in 2005

not in his usual little sneakers. kinda look like hush puppies or the like. but then his boots were slip ons too, once he moved to those. and jared still wears some of his old spn boots lol, mentioned at a con recently

huh! another actual brand. men's health magazine and that looks like.. damon from tvd? on the cover? oh, funny, it's seann william scott (the only way i dredged that one up after finding a picture was thinking he might have been with kutcher in dude, where's my car? [he was])

our generation (myself included) loves a long sleeve under short sleeve shirt

ELLICOTT You. Now I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you all about the Roosevelt riot, if you tell me something honest about yourself. Like, uh, this brother you're road tripping with. How do you feel about him? DEAN Dude! You were in there forever. What the hell were you talking about?

to be a fly on that wall. that said, i have faith in sam's abilities to bullshit well enough that doctor man buys his story. or maybe he took the opportunity to rant consequence-free, who knows!

hey sammy's got the camcorder out at the hospital, like they used in bloody mary? i thought that was a one and done (they may have used it since and i didn't notice/think about it too)

SAM This place is orbing like crazy.

IT'S ORBIN' TIME! haha also apparently only mentioned in this episode. but it did get a wiki entry because it was in the official website definition thing

KAT And Dean? He's your boss? SAM No.

partners, baby

brooke nevin / sydney sweeney

she reminds me of sydney sweeney a bit. pretty, blonde hair, with big eyes and similarly shaped mouth. apparently brooke nevin was one of the kids in the animorphs tv show? i didn't read those books, they were after my time. i got one or two for my kids but my oldest was very meh so i haven't gotten any others

nicholas d'agosto / tom welling in smallville

and the boy (nicholas d'agosto) who i, for whatever reason, think he looks like smallville version clark kent in this episode (having literally never watched smallville and only seen commercials) was harvey dent in the gotham tv show. which i also didn't watch! i don't watch many things. LOL which i conflated with the show misha was on. gotham... knights? haha. oh, and misha was harvey dent. that's even funnier

KAT My dad took me skeet shooting a couple times.

girl, me too! and my brother worked at the trap and skeet range in high school in az. iirc he was working in the little house that launches the clay targets

DEAN Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal.... Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch ’em.

okay, i had forgotten this was the explanation to why sam says what he says in a minute. 📝

so i guess it was just drippy nose blood from the cop at the start, since it's not possession it's.... whatever brain zappy mind meld the evil doctor ghost man did. gotta have some indicator that sammy's under the influence too

DEAN We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal. SAM I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? ’Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little solider? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval? DEAN This isn't you talking, Sam. SAM That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you. DEAN So what are you gonna do, huh? Are you gonna kill me? SAM You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago. DEAN Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you. Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt. Take it!! DEAN You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own brother? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger. Do it! DEAN Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!

just thinking about how the premise is basically taking existing anger and ramping it up to the nth degree, and what the implications are of that in this. we know sam is independent and doesn't like being told what to do (relatable), and is very frustrated with dean's willingness to follow dad's orders instead of defying them in a more concentrated effort to track him down. playing dad's game of him sending them on hunts through the most ridiculous methods possible. i'd be pretty damned frustrated too. and i also understand, but have a harder time relating to, where dean's coming from. he was raised in a way that he understood from a way too young age that following orders was a matter of life or death, and that he had to keep sam safe, he had the burden and responsibility laid on his little kid shoulders. i can only imagine how hard it would be to break away from that lifetime of conditioning.

so that said, just thinking about how dean would reconcile this. trying to think about it without considering what we know about how dean feels and what he's worried about later, and just what we know at this point. but it's hard to think about it without considering the conversation in 1x16 where he lets his guard down and pretty much begs sam to stay with him and dad instead of going back to school when it's all over. in the pilot, he says he can't do it alone - which sam says yes he can - but dean says he doesn't want to. so we know he missed sam and wants them to be a family and partners. but at this point sam still is scrabbling for normalcy and independence and for this to be a short term situation.

so i guess my question to myself is, do i think this planted more seeds of doubt for dean that sam doesn't care about him the same way dean does. but we've got 1x12 faith coming up soon, which should tell dean something about sam's commitment to him. not enough to soothe his concerns, obviously, and even if sam's ready to trade someone else's life for dean's without a moment of concern, he still doesn't want to stay hunting long term with dean at that point. tough situation. when staying with your person means also having to do this horrible life-risking job with virtually no option for settling down, having a family, stability, safety and comfort.

(at which point i think about how they do eventually get most of that, but then dean dies and sam has to go on without him for so long and i get incredibly sad again. when the happy ending makes you cry every time you think about it for more than 5 seconds... i've gotten a lot out of fixating on this show but occasionally i wish i hadn't)

gives him a pat and apologizes for knocking him out

dean boot update: still not the logger boots

and for inexplicable reasons, evil doctor ghost man turns into a statue and breaks apart on the floor when his bones are burned lol as opposed to the standard ghost burning up sitch

crawled over to take refuge/(literally) protect sam's ass from crumbling ghost statue haha

SAM I'm sorry, man. I said some awful things back there. DEAN You remember all that? SAM Yeah. It's like I couldn't control it. But I didn't mean it, any of it. DEAN You didn't, huh? SAM No, of course not. Do we need to talk about this? DEAN No. I'm not really in the sharing and caring kinda mood. I just wanna get some sleep.

i mean, yes, you need to talk about it. and it kind of breaks my heart. dean is a mess. he only has had two points of stability in life, and sam left for 4 years and then john ghosted him. so he's twisting in the wind, trying to hold on to sam who is looking to leave as soon as possible, and the uncertainty of what's going to happen with john... it's just all so miserable.

so for the second time we get sam on the brink of freaking out over the nonsense of the no contact/cryptic contact from john and then john comes through with something. a message before, a phone call now. iirc jdm too was frustrated over what an ass he was being dodging the kids constantly

Throughout the season, Morgan became frustrated at times due to his character's avoidance of his sons, stating, "It pissed off everybody, it pissed off us as actors, it pissed off the audience watching, because none of us really knew where we were gonna go." However, he reasoned that John's motivation for his actions was due to having knowledge that nobody else had.[25]

you'd think i was getting paid by the letter to write these damned things. good grief.

#supernatural #spn 1x10 #spnwatch #spnrewatch #spn homophobia #spn and masculinity #the perpetual nonsensical unpredictable pop culture database of dean winchester #richard hatem #brooke nevin #nicholas d'agosto #don't ask don't tell

3 notes · View notes

queerloquial · 5 months

Text

3am and I can't sleep, so tonight's fixation is: skyrim mods I don't have the skills and/or resources to make properly!

1. adding to high hrothgar a handful of apprentices of varying age, bc come on, we can't expect four oldass men to be the sole keepers of the way of the voice. I also imagine notes and/or journals scattered around hinting that some are dragonborn who haven't awakened yet (tho this would eventually lean more into my personal headcanons for How Dragonborn Work and less "well this is just baseline reasonable" so idk maybe just some letters from home and whatnot instead)

2. player home in one of the otherwise "just a neat landmark" ruins (ie, has absolutely no quest usage, probably next to no loot if any, not even a name or a map marker) that utilizes the bromjunaar wooden mask to teleport the player back to when it was a functional space. again possibly with miscellaneous text around, this time notes from a previous occupant who, like the player, was an adventurer setting up a base in an abandoned structure. the occupant's fate is left entirely ambiguous, and the amenities they left are more practical than decorative (my main goal is just, an extensive garden space, bc you would not Believe how hard it is to find custom housing that accounts for my obsession with alchemy ingredients and having five billion planter spaces. what, we can have dedicated display stands for every forgettable artifact in the game but nobody besides me wants to have a garden???)

3. in a similar vein yet far more "yeah i would need like professional level resources for this": when I first encountered the bromjunaar mask I thought that if I put it on in or near other ruins it would take me back in time there too. like, see dragon cult forts in their heyday and such. this was my first and greatest disappointment in bethesda, that I could only ever experience that single interior room that held nothing but an artifact I would inevitably just put in a chest and forget. what if, though... what if I could make a mod where the player could see at least some of ancient skyrim for themselves? get a different perspective on nordic history, on dragons and their relationship to mortalkind, understand ruins beyond "that poorly lit series of hallways where I stab draugr and collect shitty weapons to sell"... alas, to fulfill the vision I'd need like. voice actors. and way more knowledge of coding. possibly also one or more artists to create new assets...

#tes tag #skyrim tag #i Have made player homes before. i just don't know if the bromjunaar mask has like #special coding or whatever preventing it from being used in more than that one spot #the greybeard apprentices are more doable in theory. it's just the matter of assigning voices

0 notes

far-butter · 7 months

Text

Yo, I'm alive (ex queer-amann, Far Butter is my Discord handle. Might change it again if I find a dumber pun). Still a mentally fucked asshole but at least I'm a bit less annoying about it now. It is both weird and a bit unnerving to come back here, honestly, because tons of things changed for me since last time I posted. This blog is associated with very bizarre periods of my life. Anyway :

- I'm still modding sometimes and I'll likely post about it. That's why I came back on this blog. I want to really tell uv maps to fuck off and dni but alas....

- Despite heavy posting about male characters, I did try to be with guys irl and yeah nope. Nothing like the ladies. I'm apparently a big ol' lesbian. RIP bi/pansexual posting.

- I'm likely going to continue posting about male characters despite this because sadly it is rare for me to find female characters who own my ass. I guess that's what happens when men write women while seeing women as barely human.

- In case I forget to update my age, I'm from 1999.

- Not gonna lie, I'm too tired to fight about anything. There *is* a problem of bullying on Tumblr. I intend to keep myself out of this shit. That's my one boundary here for the sake of my shitty mental health. I'm here to unwind and I will keep dramas out of my lawn. I get enough threats, baits and anon hate on my political blog. This blog shall remain about thirst posting about fictional characters and mods.

- I rarely keep up with replies, but feel free to spam to remind me about things.

- My PC is an oldie like me and I can't currently go back to work due to mental health, so I'm a bit short on money. That means I can't play most modern games including from fandoms I follow, like TW3, BG3, Cyberpunk 2077, MEA and likely the future DAD. The most I can play is DAI with a very small amount of mods and it means waiting for +40min that the loading screens unfreeze. I never played other DLC than Trespasser because of that.

- Other random infos about me for the people who don't know me : I'm far-left, chronically feminist, lots of views changed since last time I checked in here so old posts might be extremely irrelevant, I don't care if you're weird we all are here...idk what else to say. Feel free to ask and I'll feel free to answer or not. I'm more friendly than I sound here, I'm just tired.

0 notes

notebooks-and-laptops · 2 years

Text

Welcome to my blog! Here you'll find OFMD brainrot (particularly Izzy/Ed/Stede) and Dragon Age ramblings.

For context, some of my Dragon Age OC’s. From right to left, top to bottom, we have:

Ambeth Lavellan: an elven warrior, Ambeth has no interest in being the inquisitor. Unfortunately, her protestations have fallen mostly on deaf ears. My only inquisitor who is also a mother, Ambeth is keenly aware of her son back with her clan. Her romance with Cullen was a slow, soft thing.

Alexandria ‘Alex’ Hawke: A soft, diplomatic girl who holds the world on her shoulders and always sees the good in those around her, Alex Hawke has a group of friends that would kill to keep her safe. She is immensely in love with her wife Merrill.

Merripen Lavellan: Merripen Lavellan was born a twin, and when his brother died from the plague, he devoted his life to Falon’Din, Elven God of Death and Fortune. Now, he lives a supposedly quiet life with The Iron Bull, although rumours abound about his close contact with his previous Spy Master and one Dorian Pavus, and what plans he may have for the future.

Aiden Hawke: my canon Hawke, my beloved, my angry boi, my favourite. Full of rage, Aiden started ripping the world apart when his sister was taken to the circle. He fell in love with Anders because of the work Anders was doing for the mage underground, a course he violently believed in. He was very, very tragic and very, very angry and I loved him with my whole soul.

DeLila Cadash: my canon inquisitor, my beloved, my girl, my favourite. The youngest of six, a warrior and a closet nerd, DeLila found a family in the inquisition she never thought she'd have. She misses them all dearly, but loves running rooftops with her wife, infamous Red Jenny Sera (extra pics and info: x x x)

Queen Lillian Hawke: A power hungry blood mage, Lillian finds it mildly funny that her friends, even her biographer, all also kinda hate her. Her relationship with Sebastian led to her claiming the title of Queen of Starkhaven, along with Champion of Kirkwall and Provisional Viscount of Kirkwall.

Aban Adaar: my sweet, shy mage qunari who loves gardening and his wife Lady Josephine Montilyet (extra pics and info: x x x x)

Jenny Hawke: Crazy, sacrastic, and a little obsessed with gold coin (if prone to over-spending with them), Jenny deflected all her problems with sarcasm. She also had a weakness for pirate queens.

Rust Cadash-Rainier: whatever her original name was, it's been lost to time. Now she goes by Rust and is learning to cook eggs with her husband (who, rumour has it, may once have been a war criminal, if one can believe the kindly man who spends his free time making toys for children is the same Thom Rainier that Orlais tried to execute), and also fighting to put a stop to Solas's stupidity (fightings in her bones, she could never put down her daggers) (extra pics and info x x x)

Thank you to everyone who puts up with me talking about these idiots, and the many more I'm no doubt likely to create and talk about in the future - my asks are always open if you have any questions about any of them, from which songs I think fit them to their backstories to the choices they made in game x

Some links to other things you may be interested in (because tumblr only lets you pin one post at a time):

I run two discord groups: a Dragon Age one, and an OFMD SteddyHands centric One. Both are 18+. If you want a link to either, please message me and we'll sort something out. Both are v chill communities.

All my writing can be found here on Ao3

My Mod Recs for each Dragon Age game can be found here (I’ll try and keep these vaguely updated too): Dragon age Origins, Dragon age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition

My Solas Romance Review can be found here (one day when I have time I’ll review all the romances in Dragon Age but alas, not yet)

Some fic rec lists of other peoples fics! Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus , Geralt/Jaskier

The Dragon Age fic data I collected can be found here (Nov 2021): Dragon Age Origins, Dragon Age 2, Dragon Age Inquisition

#dragon age #personal

28 notes · View notes

twosides--samecoin · 2 years

Text

as tagged by @incognito-insomniac :D I have seen this tag in the Falloutverse before but I'm unsure who has already done this so please tag me in that post or whatever if you have and I'll go reblog that instead :P @some27-url @vault-heck @atomitron @anonymouscosmos @adventuresofmeghatron @bluegrasskitty @thewastelandwriter @velvet-verve

Rules: We would like to ask you to recommend us 3 of YOUR fics: 1 that is "most popular" and 2 that are "hidden gems”!

I have only written Long Time Running! Chapter 5 is around the corner somewhere and it's the end of the first arc so I suppose we're due for a spoiler-free reintroduction :)

Med-Tek shits the bed. RJ wakes up in Sanctuary, hungover, retraumatized and somewhere in the stages of grief on Minuteman General Jack Ward's couch, who gives him a chance to start fighting again. He takes an undercover job for a Brotherhood cell halfway across North America for two weeks to try and find a way to help his child. The next time he rolls back in town and lands in a vertibird atop Vault 111, absolutely nothing about his life - and the fate of the Boston Commonwealth - is the same as when he left it all behind.

Why? Because something as precious as a single vial of one dose of medicine just being out in the open for 250 years doesn't really sit well with me!

The story of RJ MacCready in-text is reduced to a fetch quest as a byproduct of how Bethesda approaches narrative and quest design. So he gets the medicine. The research facility where it is produced barely has any information about how it works. And he.. doesn't go get his kid anyway. I don't accept it, so I force RJ to move on.

There's a lot about the game that Bethesda did right about the Atlantic Northeast area. For me, it's a creative extension of a game that I modded to hell and back to try and get more out of a video game Boston that I actually really loved a lot. Alas I wrung it clean of stories I wanted to play out, so I started writing and here we are.

Long Time Running is best categorized as a Canon Divergence AU of Robert Joseph MacCready's life in the universe of Fallout. Explicit rated/Graphic depictions of violence/Eventual smut/Enemies to friends to lovers/hurt comfort are some general tags.

You should read it if you like the world building of Fallout but want different perspectives and experiences dealing with the themes and content of the IP. If you like fics with a lot running under the hood in terms of research, themes and world building that supports F4 canon in a "Vanilla+" sense but heightens the drama of the universe, this might be for you. I am loath to describe my actual work as "fix it" and I instead think my treatment of canon is "make it make sense".

It's a middle finger and love letter to Fallout in general and I seek to make things make sense my way within Fallout 4 as a story. Not only written by a Fallout nerd but also someone who's an honourary Masshole, a writer who's a little too confident.. and obsessed about a blorbo :D

#robert joseph maccready #long time running #fallout 4 #writer tag #my writing #maccready #rj maccready #fallout #fallout 4 fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

actualbird · 2 years

Note

Hello, Zak!! "Reviews for Time's Antiquities" is absolutely hilarious and now you've ignited a desire for me to find more fics told in a series of reviews like this dtudutdit

Oh my god making the old woman who mentions Luke feeding the cats be the one to say the meme is perfect. Luke does have a good heart that five star review is more than deserved!!

"Adequate" being the nicest thing Vyn has ever said to Luke is so fitting drsuteut he'll go full Marius in this fic for mc and mc only, everyone else has to be content with just being satisfactory.

If Vyn put the gnomes outside the NXX building I wonder if it'd scare away some of the people who keep intruding into the building somehow.

MARIUS' REVIEW HELPPP I love it so much!!!! He's just waxing poetic about Luke in the reviews section and you know what Luke deserves it.

Look if GrannyofCats' review was allowed to stay up I think Luke should allow Aaron's review to stay up too it's only fair.

Ted has a point what is wrong with Stellis. It feels like every single chapter brings headlining news with it and some of them occur back to back. Anonymous get out while you still can.

Fhifyifgif poor Kanon, what did he do to deserve Artem's disdain.

You know what I think we should all give Anonymous a pat on the back for watching all this go down without having a single clue about what is going on. Hell of a welcome to Stellis, at least they know exactly where to find extremely vague and worrying information about Stellis' latest big crime.

Absolutely wonderful fic, thank you for writing this. I wish I had the brainpower to pull a Marius and wax poetic for this fic but alas I do not so I'll just leave this instead: 5 Stars!

🌌

eyyo milkyway :D!!! thank u for reading "reviews for Time's Antiquities, South Stellis | Average Rating: 4.8 Stars" and jhvJKVKJH WE BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE UNCOMMON FIC FORMATS!!

uncommon fic formats, especially ones that are told thru online medias, will always be my guilty pleasure (sans the guilt but u get what i mean). theyre just such Immense fun, whether it be a serious story or a silly one. online media fics my beloved...

GrannyOfCats is SO RIGHT. vyn is also so funny for writing a review thats straight up praise and rating 5 stars and then he gets hit was his allergy of outright sincerity and is like "alright, reel it back"

oh my god, gnomes as NXX GUARD STATUES JHVKJHFDS!! i adore that so much, but it'll come with the caveat of luke walking past them So Very Fast and not making eye contact bc he finds them so inexplicably creepy. he doesnt even mod the gnomes to have cctv or be able to shoot tranq darts, hes sure that the gnomes, by virture of being off putting gnomes, is enough to ward away most people

marius' wall of text review was by far my favorite thing to write. i never forget hes an art student and that he has in canon said some beautiful ass lines chock full of romance and adoration. and hes really sorry for eating luke's sweets.

aaron left that review cuz luke has been ignoring his texts abt the whole deal. one day, aaron will physically drag luke to therapy and wait outside to make sure luke doesnt jump-tuck-and-roll out thru the window. but that day is not today.

ted being the one to break it to anonymous reviewer that stellis is whack is wholly inspired by his one line back in luke's perso story 3 when luke was fucking beating up aran audibly and ted was like "UHHHHHH..." and mc was just like "//eye twitch. dont worry about it, dont think about it too hard"

artem having beef with kanon is forever gonna be my favorite minor detail in tot. like, yea i know it was only mentioned in ssr atmospherics, but it's just so funny to me to think that artem held that grudge for Forever. he shld get to have his petty moments, methinks

and YEP, anonymous reviewer is rlly going thru it JHVSKJHFSVDJF. welcome to stellis, anonymous reviewer. it only gets weirder from here on out

thank u so much for this lovely comment and 5 star rating hehe :'D

#milkyway!anon #commints #//tucks this away in my little hoard of validation ehe #asks

13 notes · View notes

ilovemesomekillianjones · 4 years

Text

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me. Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added.

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul.

Rated M 8K ao3 ffnet Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet.

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho.

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already.

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more.

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle.

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?”

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly.

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.”

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set.

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge.

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent.

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air.

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her.

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it.

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up.

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed.

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?”

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?”

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted.

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished.

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now.

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst.

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.”

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline.

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly.

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him.

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple.

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

“Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body. “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?”

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose.

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation.

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow. “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.”

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin.

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.”

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.”

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day.

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move.

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.”

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating.

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough.

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions.

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.”

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again.

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father.

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped.

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.”

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again.

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said.

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own.

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth.

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it.

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter.

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses.

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow.

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head.

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command.

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin.

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?”

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst.

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back.

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration.

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment.

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined.

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust.

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again.

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size.

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit.

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases.

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear.

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him.

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?”

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered.

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation.

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline.

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor.

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.”

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered.

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you.

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes

#csnlny #cs fan fic #cs ff #captain swan #cs is my otp forever

124 notes · View notes

eros-sinclair · 3 years

Note

Heyyy about the moss sheep do you have a baby design? And also go make more what would you feed them? Do they need specific environmental needs to regrow moss? And what’s the speed of you’ve thought of it. Are they a more rare mob in relation to spawn RATE? I know they are pretty rare (I haven’t even found an azalea tree yet) or were you thinking of a small grove of trees that can support them every now and then? If that last one is already in the game sorry lol I’m trying to avoid googling stuff about the update and am relying on other ppl or my own playing.

Sorry abt the million trillion questions, you don’t have to answer all of them if you don’t want! I am just very interested in the little moss sheep and would love to know more about its logistics! If I worked for mojang I would ask if you would allow it to be out in base game but alas. I don’t know how to code lol. I love that little guy tho!!

No need to apologize, I'm glad to answer your questions! I guess ill start from the top since idk exactly what order to answer your questions though lol

Spawn rates and conditions; when a sheep spawns within a five block radius of a naturally generated azalea tree it has a 25% chance of spawning as a moss sheep.

Growing and harvesting moss; as a player you can harvest moss off of mossy sheep much like with normal sheep using shears, but unlike normal sheep they do not regenerate their moss by eating grass. after their moss is sheared they will lie down and roll on moss blocks or carpets, and then rest while it grows back, it will take0 a full minecraft day to grow. but you still wouldn't be ready to harvest again. their moss has to mature, which is marked by how dark it is. And only the matured moss will start to grow flowers and other plants. (see below)

Breeding; unlike standard sheep you cannot breed moss sheep with wool, if you were to you would not get a moss sheep but a normal sheep. to get another moss sheep you would need to find glow berries, which shouldn't be too hard if you've already found the sheep, as a lush cave is not too far away. but note that there are two types of moss sheep; Rams and Ewes, which you have to have one of each to breed successfully. Rams, are larger with horns and will act aggressively if a Ewe or lamb is hurt by any mob or player. Luckily they are seldom hunted by wolves, as their mossy coat confuses them, they think its just a bush!

Other things; moss sheep can only thrive in temperate climates with a fair amount of moisture, in cold climates the moisture in their mossy coats freezes and if left too long will slowly freeze and die, on the flip side hot arid climates cause their moss to dry up and they revert back to normal sheep. Moss sheep can NOT swim at all their heavy moss coats cause them to sink and drown. Occasionally they will shake their bodies and fling seeds spores and other plant life that has accumulated in their moss, it also grows grass and flowers around them like bonemeal! They will let the Lambs eat the plants growing on them, and Rams will also let Ewes graze from their backs as well.

And as far as having it actually be in game, my friends and I are looking into making our own mod pack where we plan to add the moss sheep along with a lot of other things for my AU Fire and Ice. So hopefully in the future you’ll be able to have this little buddy and lots more in your world :)

#minecraft #minecraft mobs #it’s a sheep but moss #mossy sheep #moss #mob concept #modded mc #modded minecraft #minecraft modpack #modpack wip #creature design #creature concept

13 notes · View notes

whalesfallmoved · 4 years

Text

hand over wound (1/??)

half an excuse to play around with form, style, and the second person pov. this isn’t what I typically write, so I’m ahhhhh about it all around. alas, FHR lives rent free in my head right now. only read over it a few times for mistakes, so apologies for any typos.

pairing: ricardo ortega/f!sidestep, pre-heartbreak rating: t word count: 2175 warnings: mentions of blood, injury. typical canon content.

[read on AO3.]

You’re in an apartment that isn’t yours with a man you shouldn’t trust and a gut bleeding out over his nice, expensive bathroom, and that doesn’t sound like the start of a bad joke so much as the start of the end of your life.

(If you could call it a life, if you could call it anything more than all your stolen seconds ticking down to this moment. Torn stitches— fucking stupid, stupid mistake, this is how they’re going to get you—)

(He’ll take you to a hospital and they’ll look and they’ll know and he’ll know and and and)

Fuck.

Two choices:

One. You can suck it up, ask for a first aid kit—he’ll have one, twice as nice as the one you’ve got and he doesn’t even need it—all those Ranger benefits he keeps trying to entice you with, go team! Maybe even some halfway decent painkillers.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, stitch yourself up clean enough to get out of here without bleeding on his floor, too. You can meet his questions with a hard laugh and a fuck off I’m fine go finish making the food I’m starving.

(and why the fuck did you come here why did you let yourself get swayed by his fast grins and his bright eyes? He isn’t your friend, he isn’t, even if he thinks he is.)

Fuck.

Two. You make a run for it. More questions. Potential for passing out in a dark alley. Vulnerable and wounded until you can get back to your own shitty place and hope to god Ortega doesn’t think to follow you. Which he will, you know he will, and you’re fast but he’s always been faster, just as quick on the draw with a mind of static to take your edge.

You pull the tight undershirt up higher, flinching at the sight of your own skin, focus on the blood rolling sluggish and hot instead of the flinty orange patterns. The wound’s deep and fresh and curled like a crooked smile.

Black clothes help. Red splatters vibrantly on the white marble counter, onto the floor, sticks to the soles of your feet (bare, shoes kicked off at the door.) You’ll have to clean that up. How the hell will you do that? With his goddamn bleach white towels?

God— fucking— fuck.

Okay. You can do this. You just ask. Ask for the first aid kit. Slam the door in his face. Or run.

You want to run. Feel that rabbit-heart drive bursting up under the skin to book it and maybe that’s what you need to do. Yes. That’s what you need to do. Leave Ortega the mess—you’ve saved his ass enough times you won’t feel bad about it, or at least not so bad you’ll apologize for it later (you never apologize, even when you maybe should) and—

A knock, and you jump, gasp. “Still alive in there?” He asks, that same smile-lilt to his voice. He’s teasing you, a little, but there’s an edge of concern too.

(shitshitshitshitshitshitfuck)

“Just give me a second.” You bite out, trying to sound put upon rather than panicked.

Shirt tugged down—fuck, that hurts—and your teeth sink into soft cheeks, hard enough to sting.

A pause. You wait for the sound of footsteps to move away from the door. Silence, instead.

Exhale.

“—Hey, are you alright?”

Goddamnit.

“I’m fine,” you drop to your knees and your side screams and the blood gets stickier, you can feel the fabric dragging with every move. Throw open the cabinets. Maybe he was organized for once in his life and put the first aid kit in here (fat chance) and nothing, nothing, just bare bones cleaning supplies.

Frustration and pain build up, you slam the cabinet with a teeth-clenched groan and the knock comes again, more insistent this time, hard knuckles on hard wood— can’t you just fuck off can’t you leave me alone why did i come here—

“Noa. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. God, what do you want?” You snarl, voice raising to a pitch.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Your hand clutches at your side and comes away red, smeary. You have to do something, you have to move. Think. You can’t stay here.

He’s not going to let you go. You should’ve just run while you had the chance, now he’s just outside the door waiting, on alert, knows you better than anyone (which isn’t saying much but it’s saying enough) and knows enough to not let you just snarl your way out of this.

Shaky inhale. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” he breathes—relief? you don’t know and it chafes, what’s there to be relieved about?—gives a softer laugh, “no big deal. Just open the door.”

You don’t want to do that. You really, really don’t want to do that. He’s going to want to help, he’s going to want to see, the way you’ve helped him before.

(warm brown skin interrupted by mods and scar tissue and the expanse of his back, defined muscle rippling under your fingertips— stay still, you snap, smacking his shoulder, and he laughs— ouch, watch it, I’m wounded— and that’s your own fault you idiot, needle/thread, and you lay his stitches so much neater than your own.)

“I… can’t.”

“...You can’t?”

“No.”

“Is it that bad?” His voice takes on a new edge, sharper now, the kind of break down the door, get the job done edge that comes with being a Ranger, you suppose. Not quite hard, still light enough to pass for his brand of charm-sly soothing, but you know better than to fall for that.

“I’m fine. Can you just…” you push up onto your feet, choking down another groan, pain splitting through your side like a disc-saw, “can you just get the first aid kit?”

You think you hear a faint curse, and then: “yeah, be right back.”

In the space between, panic sets in.

Panic’s a cold emotion, and it’s a sick kind of luxury. You never got to panic before, riding it out out out all silent scream while everyone else’s thoughts and feelings stuck to your teeth, wormed down to the base of your spine. With Ortega you’re alone in your head and the only thing left to do is wait. Fists clench, ease the shaking.

A few minutes pass, tick-tick-tick, and he’s at the door again, knock softer this time, and please, please, please leave me alone you want to say but you don’t, you just press your palm (red-stark) to your side, and maybe— maybe if you slam it open, it’ll knock him back long enough to give you a head start. You just have to get out—

“Noa.” He knocks again, and you think you hear his breath hitch, maybe, and you want to know what he’s thinking, you want to know so badly but it’s just deafening silence outside the door.

“Yeah… yeah.”

One hand to your pulsing gut, one hand shaking, the knob unlocks with a soft click, and you’re stumbling back into the bathroom, and he’s there, filling the doorway, eyes soft-hard and brow furrowed. His eyes flick over the counter, the floor (blood splatters, streaks of it) and he lets out another quiet string of curses, “what the hell happened—?”

He’s moving forward, and you stumble back till your knees hit the toilet.

You both still. Freeze. He’s got you cornered, and he knows it, he must know it, fuckfuckfuck— breathe, you have to breathe.

“You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” He murmurs, softer than before, one hand curled around the green-white first aid kit. Bandages. Stitches. Alcohol.

Maybe you could grab it. Run? No, that’s stupid— he’ll just grab you, shove you back, ask for answers you can’t and won’t give.

Fuck.

Again, you say: “I’m fine,” and feel your lips curl back, a snarl fit for a dog in a ring.

“Yeah, you look it,” he shakes his head, tries to smile, like he isn’t surprised but he wishes it were different, and he’s not going to get mad at you, not yet, we all get hurt in this business but it still can’t be different, it can’t be, asshole, so stop asking, “c’mon, let’s… go in the living room, and I’ll—”

“No,” you snap hard, working around the toilet toward the counter. A little more room that way, and you won’t sit, even though you’re starting to feel it, the shakes and the dizziness. Drip, drip, drip, and your hand curls tighter over your stomach.

“No?” He blinks, more confused than offended.

(you have such a delicate touch, he scoffs as you wrap pristine white bandages over the stitched gash, rough but slow, and you roll your eyes don’t get fucking shanked next time then, and he gasps, mock-offense, brown eyes sparkling, searching your mask for expression he won’t find but you’re smiling, you’re smiling because he’s beautiful.)

“Just give it to me. I can deal with it myself.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” It is.

“Sure it isn’t.”

“It’s just a flesh wound, alright? Someone got a lucky scratch in that last fight. Didn’t think it’d open again. But it’s not that bad.”

“Well, I’m still not going to leave you here to stitch yourself up.”

Fucking— always so stubborn, why won’t he quit?

“Either give it or I leave. Take your pick.”

He stills, watching you, and you wonder how you look to him.

Like a scared animal? Wounded little monster he found and picked up for some fucking reason? What does he want with you? What is he thinking?

His eyes trail over you, clothes all black and layered, baggy enough to hide everything,

“You’re kidding.” He wants you to be kidding.

“Do I look like it?” You tilt your head back, challenging, stilling up—shoulders stiffen, legs numb, prepared to run or to fight. Like he’s not blocking the only exit, like he’s not the one person in the world you can’t outmaneuver—Sidestep brought down by a head full of silence and a pretty fucking face.

They would laugh at you. They will if this escalates, if he sees. He’s got all his good intentions, it’ll be the death of you. He’ll be the death of you.

“So what’s it gonna be?” It’s supposed to sound like a sneer-snarl but it comes out weak, the razor edge of fear sliding just under your tongue.

But he must miss it. Or chalk it up to something else. “You’re being ridiculous,” he shakes his head, “it’s really not an issue.”

Ortega, always believing the best of you. That you don’t want to inconvenience him.

He wants to stay.

(you’ve never had anyone who wants to stay before.)

“I just wanna do it myself, fucks sake.” You burst, cutting him off at the finish line, and now you’re up on your feet, reaching with your free hand for the kit, ripping it from his hand.

“Just...” what was the line? “Just go finish making the food, alright? I’m starving.” and he lets you take it, lets you slam it down on the counter. You drop your blood-wet palm and clench it, as if to say see I’m fine it’s not that bad and his eyes drift over you again, harder than before, and he’s annoyed, well that’s too bad.

“Can I at least…”

“No.”

Jaw clenches. Works. Ortega never knows when to not push, when to not be that wonder boy so full of heart, head first into the action, and you’re small potatoes so what the fuck is he doing here, really, with you? There’s a dozen other vigilantes in Los Diablos that would probably work with him, that would fall for his knockout smile twice as fast and twice as hard.

(oh, you’ve fallen alright, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

But he knows you. He does. More and less than he thinks he does. And he knows you’re not bluffing. You’ll leave.

Shoulders still raised, jaw still stubborn, he slowly nods and steps back. You feel relief unshutter in your chest. “Alright,” he sighs, slumps.

Does he want you to stay? Or does he just want to make sure you don’t pass out in some grimy back alley to get picked over?

It doesn’t really matter.

(why is he letting this go that easily?)

“If you say it’s not that bad, I’ll believe you,” he nods, and it feels like a lie, sticks around in your skin the way lying does when someone lies with their mouth but not with their thoughts. “Just let me know if I can do anything, alright?” Smile, again, he’s always smiling except when he isn’t, effortlessly charming.

“...Okay.” You mutter. There isn’t anything he can do, and you both know you won’t ask.

You stand off, not flinching and not moving as he steps back, hands twitching at his sides—to raise them in surrender or grab you, you don’t know, so as soon as he’s through the door you grab it, slam it closed, lock it fast.

Safe. Or as safe as you can be.

Fuck.

#ricardo ortega #fhr #mywriting #hand over wound*#also known as: I wrote this instead of an essay #did I proof read it? no.#*forgot the ao3 link mndfgnmf whoops

30 notes · View notes

kinkyacademia · 5 years

Note

Can you write a fic were Hawks x Male reader were the reader loses their dog(Preferably a large breed) is a villain attack. Hawks ends up finding the dog, returns it, but is surprised to see that the reader is actually the nerdy kid from his old high school and now the reader looks hot and just go on from there. Don´t judge me.

bI don’t really know who this was for, but I snatched it up because BAM it was cute :)Okay after writing this, I have to say: I didn’t expect to make Hawks such a bottom, but he is SUCH A BOTTOM IN THIS IM SO SORRY-Orange warning. This has fairly lewd content in it, but since there isn’t any sex, it’s less of a lemon and more of an orange.

-Mod Pasta 🍜🍝

🌪”Charles!” You shouted when you got home. There had been a villain attack near your house and you rushed home to check up on your purebred Newfoundland named Charles. Upon not finding him, you got worried, calling the police. They told you that they would look for the dog among the havoc the villain had caused. Anxiety plagued you, but alas there was nothing you could do. It was in the hands of heroes now, probably that up and coming new hero you heard about: The one with wings.

🌪Takami had been flying around for a while, lazily collecting distressed civilians and checking up on people around the firefight. It had been an odd villain: some rando had gone rough and used his attraction quirk to pull builds together. Hawks had neutralized him, then joined the rescue squad. It was a high-injury event because of the violent power, but all injured civilians were now in care. It was near the end of the day, right when Hawks was going to leave and go home for dinner, when he got a heads up from the police that a dog was missing. Some huge, fluffy dog a boy had called in about. He immediately swooped down to look for it.

🌪Finding the dog was a breeze: it had just been accidentally pulled out of the yard of its owner and run directly into the danger. It was trotting along in the rubble, sniffing around for a tasty snack. He landed, giving the dog his hand while he reported to the police that he had found it. The dog barked happily, trotting right up to him and promptly leaning the side of its body all the way into him. He hadn’t expected it to be so loving, and he stumbled back with a shout of surprise, then delight. It was such a sweetie! He cooed at the big puppy, ruffling its ears until the police notified him that they could still hear him and gave him the address of the owner.

🌪The dog seemed comfortable with Takami flying, so he set off towards the owner’s house with it in tow, a little uncomfortable because of the weight, but able to manage. Once he set it down, he had to stretch his arms, his joints popping. The dog barked as it happily looked up at him. Almost immediately the door of the little house opened, the light blaring through the dark dusk as the owner rushed forward, hugging their pet. He proudly crossed his arms, “I found him in the rubble, he’s pretty cute.”

🌪When the owner looked up, he definitely didn’t expect to see (L/N) (F/N) from his old Hero course. You looked up with surprise, “Takami…?”

🌪You two caught up quickly, and you offered him tea as he followed you inside. You had settled as a sidekick to a hero agency, and he raved about how nerdy you had been back in high school. You had worn thick-rimmed glasses, always corrected him on minor arithmetic details, and had a problem with self-care and acne. Now none of those things were present, especially the problem with self care… Yeah, as you poured the willow tea, he admired your ass from your couch as he removed his suddenly stuffy jacket. You took care of yourself alright, very well.

🌪You seemed indifferent to his interest, happily talking about old times and relating them to your new job. Charles ended up laying his body across the both of you, and you laughed, giving his back end a slap. The puppy barked, wagging his tail. Both of you laughed at that, and Hawks rubbed the dog’s head, still infatuated with the baby. His eyes didn’t stray from your own for long, however: yours just seemed so much brighter without the glasses. How could puberty hit someone so late and so hard?

🌪You calmly smiled, drinking your tea serenely, “Thanks for returning Charlie. I bet he’s pooped from running around the city.”

“Probably,” Takami nodded, blinking a couple times before realizing that he still had his goggles on. He removed them, placing them in his jacket on the table in front of your couch, “I’m probably imposing-”

“Never! It’s so cool to see how far you’ve come, Takami, even if we weren’t super close back in Uni,” You exclaimed, and his breath hitched. Boy did he wish he knew you better in Uni…

🌪Hawks was suddenly conscious of his hair. It was all over the place - and your own was quite obviously styled. Wait - did you just push it back to tease him? He felt his body grow hotter… That damn nerd from his old school was sitting in front of him, laughing his cute little ass off at Hawks’ horrible jokes.

“I had started a pot of rice before you arrived, you can stay for dinner if you like,” He didn’t like how narrow your sly eyes were when you suggested that. You were so tantalizing that he had to stop himself from literally ruffling his feathers.

“I’d love that, heroing is hard work.”

🌪He never thought the day would come that the annoying geek from Uni’s mouth would look so inviting. Did you keep the chopsticks between your teeth when you laughed because you knew he was staring? He hoped that was the case, because he wasn’t about to stop. Hadn’t you had braces? They were definitely gone now, and your entire face was just enticing him…

🌪You could definitely tell Takami was attracted to you. You had run into another old peer from High School and they blatantly commented on your improved physique and looks. You had put a lot of effort into them over the last few years, and you were glad that they paid off. Finding out that an old classmate was now the No. 3 Pro Hero and was practically drooling for you was another achievement you were quite proud of.

🌪He had taken his jacket and goggles off, his gloves soon following. His wind-blown hair seemed all too perfect to run your hands through, but you didn’t quite remember if your peer was attracted to men or not. He was popular with the girls ever since he was in Uni, but had he ever went after one? Not that you remember. You listened to him talk about his latest mission with wide eyes and fascination, and he continued to beef up the story until it sounded fantastical, obviously trying to impress you. You’d never seen him so flustered, his voice shaking a bit and his eyes fleeting.

🌪So you took a leap of faith and called him out on it, “Takami,” He paused, his eyes immediately looking to your own across the dining table, “Are you nervous?”

“Ah shucks, you caught me. Well come on, you know you’re hot, right?” Your heart fluttered. That was so upfront, and your cheeks flushed as you smiled to yourself.

“Thanks, I was beginning to think you just wanted to leave,” Your smile formed into a smirk, and you rested your chopsticks against your teeth as your tongue stuck out. You cocked as eyebrow as his obvious strain to not look at your lips.

“I kinda like it here. You know,” You hummed to let him know you were paying attention as he took another mouth full of rice, “My person motto is that I think heroes should be able to relax and have leisure time.”

“Hmm?” He nodded at your inquiry, and you chuckled deeply, “You don’t seem very relaxed. I could help you with that,” He quite obviously was gawking now, his cheeks flushed and sweat beginning to gather on his brow.

“Really?” His voice was hoarse, and you ended up laughing as he looked away from you, realizing how needy he sounded. You twirled a chopsticks between your fingers, then glanced at the man’s lap, eyes wandering back up to his wanton eyes, “Yeah…” He trailed off, his small pupils now fully blown.

🌪To say the least, Takami’s dinner snack was long forgotten. Once you had gotten up, slowly stalking around the table toward him, he was like putty for you. You took his hand, and he followed you anxiously to your bedroom. You had exceptional taste in style, your bed being plush as he fell back into it. He leaned up, and you cocked an eyebrow, “Finally found a shred of dignity?”

“Never, but I can’t be on my back,” He ruffled his wings, and you rolled your eyes, leaned down to place a caste kiss on his lips that left him breathless, “Fuck,” he whispered.

🌪He remembered being compared to an angle one time in bed. Sweet, flustered, but never submissive enough to back down from a fight. You ended up straddling him, and the blood that was left in his body travelled to his groin. His back was against the headboard, and you were ravaging the hero’s pride by leaving love bites down his neck, his lips swollen from a long, deep make out session, “Where did this… Even come from?” He had to gather his scrambled thoughts together.

“I had expected you to take the lead, but this was just too easy,” He relished in the purr that escaped your lips, and he took a deep breath. You pulled back, looking at your work with smug pride, “Beautiful.”

“Don’t underestimate me, (F/N), I’ve been known to bite back.”

🌪His own love marks were less intense than your own, his touch less rough and more calculated. He had flipped you positions, but you obviously still held the reigns. You were just too much for him to wrangle. You pulled his hips against your own, grinding into him. The gasp that escaped his lips sent shivers down your arms: This was happening. You were going to fuck the pretty boy from Uni.

🌪“We still have a lot of clothes on,” You ran a hand down his chest, and some form of a coo came from him. You gave him an incredulous look, and his cheeks darkened.

“I can’t control the sounds I make, (F/N),” You cackled, ordering him to take his shirt off. He obliged, and you made sure to leave a few marks along the way as you removed your own top. Both of your bulges were now straining against your pants, threatening to pop a button.

“It’s cute. I wonder if I can pull another one out,” You teased, and the awkward, flustered smile you got back confirmed that you were going to pull many noises out of this hero. Your hands travelled down to his belt as you planted another kiss on his lips.

“You’re so different than I remember,” He whispered, and you nodded slowly as you undid his buckle, pulling the belt out and inspecting it. His eyes followed your own down to it.

“I am,” You ran a hand along the buckle, “Every been hit with this?” Your eyes snapped back to his own. The bewildered look he had confirmed that he hadn’t, and you threw the leather behind his neck, pulling him close to your lips, “Maybe next time,” You bit his bottom lip, then tossed the belt off of the bed. At this point you were just torturing the man.

🌪You both had to get out of your pants before one of you went insane. You opened your nightstand, pulling out the bottle you hadn’t expected to use and a condom. You held them up to his face as he was yanking a shoe off. He looked to them, then you, “Nice size.”

“Oh,” You chuckled, forgetting that the size of the condom was labelled.

“Definitely for you, though,” He glanced at his own boxers that were still on, “I can take it.”

“Cute,” You were waiting on him, and he could tell. You pulled your own underwear off, and his eyes travelled to your length. You could see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, and you hooked a finger into the elastic of his boxers, laughing, “C’mon, embarrassed? I’m sure you’ve done this a million times.”

“I’m not a player, contrary to popular belief,” He crossed his arms, and you gave him a cocked eyebrow.

“I’ve heard otherwise,” You pulled his boxers down an inch, and he seemed nervous, “Are you… sure?” You held the condom up once again, “You can back out if you want, I won’t hold it against you.”

“I’m just remembering how you used to be. I thought you were going to be some weird scientist with warts when you grew up,” He laughed dryly, and you gasped, grinning.

“Oh really? I’ll fuck that expectation away, I promise,” You threatened, “C’mon, if you’re going to take me, you gotta be prepared,” You swore he cooed once more, nodding. You pulled his boxers down to see his semi-erect length, and he stepped out of them obediently.

“Yeah, alright, yeah,” His voice was practically shaking. You put a hand under his jaw, pulling him toward yourself. He followed immediately, and you felt a wave of dominance fall over you. Most heroes would feel shameful being so submissive, but this boy practically held pride in it. You were going to love this.

“Let’s start.”

277 notes · View notes

if-the-crown-fits-translate-it · 4 years

Text

Duchy Conversation 4

[27/03, 4:29 AM GMT - 27/03, 6:13 AM GMT]

[The following transcript details the conversation is between one of the Crown ARG Discord members and Duke on Twitter]

Donti: “Hi! How was your day?

Its me again :)c

((If its late or youre sleeping dw about responding :p))”

Duke: “Forgive my tardiness, my embroidery was enchanting me so that my ears laid unaware!

How do you do, Donti? It is the Duke speaking. I must say, my sister has quite the opinion of you!”

Donti: “Oh its great to talk to you again Duke :D I hope I left a good impression! Is your embroidery going well?”

Duke: “It is going quite splendid! The Crown truly does spoil us, giving my sister and I such rich-coloured thread. Truly we are fortunate for his generosity and love.”

Donti: “Ohh! Good colors always make embroidery fun! What are you making?”

Duke: “I must ask though - as a sheep yourself why must you graze on such nimble hearts? Wolves are not supposed to concern themselves with the opinions and thoughts of prey such as yourselves but Prince is but a pup, why must you all be so cruel? I am quite interested in the answer, you see, because it is I who saw the tear tracks down faers face and I who heard the drums of despair in this household.”

Donti: “Oh..

Are you talking about blunt anon?

All of us are very angry at them, whoever they are.

I promise they do not reflect us as a whole.”

Duke: “To answer your previous question however, I am making a rose for Baroness. I do feel horribly for how I was unable to aid her with her spoiled dress so I do hope this gift soothes her and shows that there is no ill will from I to her.”

Donti: “Thats nice! Baroness loves flowers and nature! Thats super thoughtful of you. Im sure she'll love it :D

But back to Prince... Are fae ok? we're worried about faem.”

Duke: “"Blunt anon" is quite a peculiar name I must say. Indeed that is the scoundrel I speak of. It is wonderful to hear that you all are not that way - frankly, if I suspected you were the one to make Prince cry I would have simply neglected to respond, as is customary when one deals with enemies of one's family. Prince is currently recuperating, poor thing. A bleeding heart only leads to death and yet fae still has not learned that yet. I do wish you to send out a warning if you would be so kind - do let anyone know that if they ever treat Duchess in such a matter they will swiftly come to regret it. A gentleman does not revel in violence but she is my most dearest sister.

I thank you for your kind words however, I do indeed hope she enjoys my gift so - do not tell the others but she may be the only one in this family I can truly connect to on an intellectual setting, besides my sister of course.”

Donti: “Ill tell people not to be rude to Duchess. Not that they would.. Im pretty sure they like her :D”

Donti: “"Blunt anon" came when people would send... Rude asks to people. It was originally just blunt questions. But it escalated to... What happened to Prince :( We're trying to find them, but theres only so much we can do

Oh wait! have other people reached out to you all yet?”

Donti: “I know some of my good friends have talked to duchess.. But not to you yet!”

Duke: “Ah, indeed people have reached out and only Duchess was there to greet them. It pains me of course but I found myself with activities to do throughout the day. Schooling is still important to Duchess and I so that took up quite a bit of time - do not tell Crown but I was indeed spending time taking in the beauty of ballet instead of working purely on my Latin. Tea time too is an important affair, especially for I, and then it is always important to spend time with ones sister! So alas, you have been the only one I have graced with my thoughts and feelings out of your crowd of sheep.”

Donti: “Hm. I like the name sheep... Its a little kinder than "plebs"

You seems to like a lot of.. Elegant things! (I hope thats the right word) like embroidery and ballet! Where did you learn such refined taste :oc”

Duke: “Where did I learn such refined tastes? They have always been apart of me, you must understand. The Crown helped unlock those parts that I kept buried deep away and help nurture them. Oh such a brute I used to be! No care for the finer things in life, only one-upping my beloved sister. To think I used to slide in the dirt just for a measly point - bah! Truly I am in much debt to the Crown, for without him I still may have been a unruly fool.”

Donti: “... You played sports before you met Crown?”

Duke: “My sister and I both did, yes. It does not do well to dwell on such miserable times, Donti. This is why little one you are still a lamb.”

Donti: “Oh! If you don't want to talk about it, you dont have to! ^u^ Friends dont force their friends to talk about uncomfortable things!

Hm... But if the plebs are sheep... And I am a lamb... Who is the shepard...?”

Duke: “How sweet! Tell me, little lamb, who do you think the shepherd is? Or if there is one at all?

If you are a little lamb then I must ask, is there a Mary to be found alongside you as well?”

Donti: “Hm.... I think from our perspective the shepherd, (or shepherds in this case) would be our lovely mods :D

But from your point of view? Its most definitely Crown!

Andd.. Im assuming a Mary is a leader... Little lambs follow Mary after all... Hm. A lot of us have shown leadership at some point in time or another! It really depends on the scenario!”

Duke: “Intriguing.

It depends on the scenario you say?”

Donti: “Yep! People take charge depending on whats happening, and sometimes theres no leadership, just us discussing and working through it!

Why do you ask?”

Duke: “When the flocks have gone and left and all there is is the gentle bobbing of the water, who do you trust to save you from drowning? While you thrash and scream and feel yourself weaken who do you look towards for guidance? When the taste of salt kisses the interior of your esophagus whose name is on the tip of your dying tongue?

For I, it is the Crown, as he saved my sister and I from exactly that fate - but who is it for you?”

Donti: “Hm.. As a "flock" we all support one another.. That way, we can have multiple points of support! One person supporting that many people would be very stressful for that one person, you know”

Duke: “Of course.

Even then in a home all parts play along and join in the symphony but even with that, some are still load-bearing.

Who would be your load-bearing walls? All I ask is for some simple names, you understand. My curiosity is much like a cat, you see. Only satisfaction may truly bring me back.”

Donti: “Hm.. Are you asking for the names of my friends?

Well. There's Jack and Raeva, whom Duchess has spoken with, I think. Llyr, Ren, and Luna are also friends of mine. But I try not to burden them.

They are not so much load bearing pillars, but more of frail walls to shield me from the cold.”

Duke: “The drifting breezes that bring forth frost and tremors truly are such tiresome times. That you have shields is wonderful and it does ease my heart, but I do feel as though I must impart some wisdom else I'd be an unfavourable acquaintance - do try and build yourself a roaring inferno, little sheep.

Have so much fire around yourself that the winds cannot glance your way and even the Grand Archer Yi looks on with fear.”

Donti: “... And what if the fire burns me?

What then?”

Duke: “Do you think yourself unable to control the flames?”

Donti: “...Yes. Flames are temperamental, after all. When the inferno's dried up every last bit of water and eaten all of the wood, what will it turn to?”

Duke: “You want the answer to be yourself, I can see you reaching for it with an outstretched palm. Here is the truth: you can quell flames easily with just a few words. You can breathe in the ash and let the smoke dissipate. You do not have to be burned.

Ah, but these are just fun matters to think about. Do not dwell on my words too much. I would hate for you to overthink just simple pondering.”

Donti: “...Ill take your words to heart, friend. Even if it's just banter.

How do you know this?”

Duke: “Do not cause yourself concern with such a thing. In case I have caused you to distress then please do take this video as repentance. Isn't it so lovely how she spins?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qqejv_BQ7Zg”

Donti: “Oh! that is a pretty video.. I wonder how long it took for her to make it so effortless..?

Do you dance?”

Duke: “Such an exquisite form of art. The mastery she has put forth would bring others to shame and ruin. A true professional since birth. I myself do not dance in this way - my sister and I are well versed in the waltz and ballroom dance as is customary for our statuses - but ballet alludes me. Alas, if only that was the direction I chose for my life to go but no matter - I have embroidery, poetry and oil painting to keep me truly green from envy.”

Donti: “Those are very enviable hobbies! I imagine you're skilled at them too! As for ballet... Ive heard that in order to dance that way, one has to go through great pain. I'd hate for you to experience that”

Duke: “A bit of suffering is always worth the pain if beauty and joy can be received in the end, do you not think?”

Donti: “As long as youre happy, I suppose!

I’m sorry to cut this short, but its getting late for me! And probably for you too ^^

I hope you rest well!”

Duke: “I hope you have humble dreams and a quiet rest. Goodnight, little lamb.”

#on:twitter #by:duchy #by:duke #if the crown fits

4 notes · View notes

soranihimawari · 4 years

Text

Shatter

A story in several parts:

tw: reader chan’s sibling is a toxic force to be reckoned with; officers mentioned in later parts (civil servants for young adults); mentions of accidents and scarring [both emotional and physical]; young adult 18+ for strong and suggestive language

word count: 6.8 K

tagging @oikawa-obvs @m0nstergeneration20xx @smolbludandelions

the characters and other tie in works:

seijoh 4: oikawa, iwazumi, hanamaki, mattsun

spin off of the Running at 6a.m. feat. hanamaki and his s/o [plus s/o family]

Throughout this story, mattsun & q learn how important the actions of others does not define a set path.

Next >>

“If I get one you like, you can have it,” you say with a wide smile. You still remember the third day of the last month of the year. You were nearly on the cusp of being eighteen within a few short weeks. You had heard a few weeks prior that one of your friends from middle school had moved to across town once her relatives agreed to taking her in during the summer leading into your respectful third years. Recently your were surprised your friend was so openly affectionate toward a certain strawberry blonde. You would tease her saying that she was insane for having him wake her up at six in the morning during one of your late night voice calls.

“Well, Makki-kun is part of our school’s volleyball team,” she says. You sigh because your friend is right. “Besides aren’t you still interested in getting your hands a little dirty? I’m in serious need of my right hand mechanic to give me a hand running a few diagnostics…”

“I’ll clear it with Naka-one,” you say. “You know how much my sister worries.”

“Says the woman with the muscle memory of a saint,” your friend’s voice is singing sweetly into the receiver. “Besides, I think I can’t keep hiding my best friend away from those giants.”

“I suppose you’re right. Meet me at the station on Saturday, ok?”

“You got it. I can finally prove to Makki-kun’s friends that I do have other friends.”

II:

[Saturday//Ice Cream & Journals\\]

Winter was no joke as she briskly shared her wind across the neighborhood you found yourself visiting. You had arrived not too early in the mid-afternoon; you had an overnight Hershel bag with your various journalistic tools stacked in according to importance. You were a designer by instinctual honing skills whereas your friend was a hands on mechanical genius in her spare time. The two of you used to race up and down the hills of your childhood streets. Your drive to inspire others was something your sister had maintained with a skilled hand, but you were defiant against the dainty life she was grooming you to try to emulate. The argument reaches its pinnacle the night before you were supposed to be leaving to visit your friend:

“Your hobby is just that! A hobby! You can’t keep losing more hours of sleep over a career our parents didn’t think suitable for a teenager like you!”

Your markers container was the closest thing to your sister’s hands and instead of strangling you, she knocks over the matte boxes you so ideally spent hours recataloging. You say nothing, that is until those hands of hers reach for the journals you kept your portfolios of car designs is in her hands.

“Don’t!” was the last word you were able to yell before the sounds of tearing roars into your eardrums. You are left alone collecting the shreds of your dreams on to the kitchen table. Your sister was as mad as a hatter, but you were too. If her madness only saw the way you clung to the last bit of your individuality like it was a godsend.

So in the morning, you send a message to your friend who meets you at the train terminal. She dons sunglasses and extends a pastel jacket to you; the jacket has your nickname stitched on it with the sigil of a craftsman:

“I got your message. Man, you sister is really fucked up,” she says.

“I know,” you retort.

“You even cut your hair into a more asymmetrical cut. It looks good on you Q.”

Q is for Quantum. Your parent who birthed you chose that perhaps having born two daughters roughly seven years apart was not the best idea, but alas, here you were still wandering the corner of the outskirts of a city close to the palisades your host lives in.

The mod scarf you brought with you is wrapped around your neck in a double knot. The rest of your winter attire is kept simple in the various hues of indigo and splashes of cerulean pearls. Your best friend, you notice, is a bit more tan than before, but her ever present pizazz shines through like it always does. Women can be anything they set their minds to so long as they have the right know-how.

“I have the guys meeting us up at the ice cream parlour not too far from here,” she says stifling an amused laugh when you scrunch your nose in a slight snarl. “What? You did want to meet the person I’m dating after all. And not to worry, this is only a small gathering.”

Your snarl subsides only to remain as neutral as possible. You nod as your friend rounds the corner of a children’s park across from the ice cream parlour bells chime when the door is pulled open by other patrons.

“Thank you,” you and your friend say walking through the open door which automatically closes behind you both. Your eyes are averted for a moment toward the glowing holographic menu cards above the cashier. The ice cream parlor is paired with an adjoining coffee bar as you take a look around. Your friend has a nickname too and the moment you hear a subtly calm voice call out to her, you realize you recognize the voice (from the photos she sends you, you know their names only as ichigo no kori, cinefile, pretty boy, and…)

“Oh look, they’re all on time for once,” your friend says as she takes the lead with you close behind. When you reach the table, you unwrap your scarf from your neck.

“Makki, your girlfriend brought a friend,” the cinefile says. His winter attire is typically laid back as far as you could see; he donned a hoodie under his jean jacket and matching slacks. The person to his left, is the pretty boy. Apparently he was the aforementioned princely type who was more popular and it clicks in your brain why: Seijoh has a reputation for being a powerhouse. Then your eyes shift to the strawberry ice haired neighbor you were told so much about from several text conversations you had had.

“The chisana josei has a right to bring whomever she likes, Iwazumi,” the baritone voice is curious as he eyes you quietly.

“Of course she does,” your friend winks at you. You hear her whisper a play nice to you as she takes her place at the table next to her beau. You roll your eyes after your friend sits down, you shake your head like an etch and sketch. New slate for the weekend. I’m just here for a few days to give my sister a few days of quiet. Your consciousness rumbles.

“She’s awfully quiet,” the prince chuckles when you make a face. “Is it because she thinks I'm handsome?”

“Oh my god, the world doesn't revolve around you Oikawa,” the one named Iwazumi says through gritted teeth.

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty, but remember Makki is dating me,” your friend reminds them and her boyfriend smirks. “Have a seat Q, before you actually start growing roots. Mattsun, be a dear and make some room for my best friend will ya?”

“I prefer to stand,” you said with a shrug. “If you want to flip for it, go right ahead.”

“You sure? I mean, Mattsun does make a pretty decent chair...” your friend’s voice trails off when she sees your gloved hand open and close.

“That’s easy for you to say to an old friend,” you say when you take off your backpack when you hand it to her. “You’re not the one who was kicked out of the house again, so please excuse me if I decline the invitation for now.”

The conversation moves on after Makki challenges Iwazumi to another arm wrestling match while Oikawa heads to the counter to order a round of hot cocoa because it had already been sanctioned it was his turn to pay. Your friend converses at the end of the table with you and Mattsun together trying to act as a buffer between the most withdrawn people in the group.

“Mattsun, did you know that Q is an excellent designer? She helped me forge the gas tank for the bike I use,” your friend sings your praises. How does she know what to say to push your buttons like that? Mattsun is apathetic, yet upon closer inspection of his softened features, he reminds you of an older cat. One who has both a playful and mischievous personality and your imagination wonders how fast you’d fall for him not knowing he was wondering the same thing. The middle blocker keeps a neutral expression as he stands up to help Oikawa with the drink carriers with the mugs. After a rocky start, you realize that the group is not so bad. You were now a group of six third years and you liked the odds of having a small unit composed of your best friend and her reverse harem. They walk with you two all the way back to their respective blocks and when Iwazumi along with Oikawa branch off, you are left with your best friend, Makki, and Mattsun in your company

“Six in the morning again?” your friend sighs. Her breath is caught in the chill air when he kisses her temple. You see how smitten they are for each other and while you had just survived an hour into the prolonged sabbatical, you wonder if you would eventually get a shot.

“We may have lost the game chisana josei, but at this point, I think it’s just Oikawa wanting to make sure we’re still sharp.”

“If you say so, but I’m not going to be joining you. It’s too cold,” she teases. “Q’s here to hang with me.”

“I’m sure I can find something to do for the meantime tomorrow,” you answer. “I don’t want to inconvenie--”

“She can run with me,” Mattsun speaks up, scratching his cheek. He had this quiet charm about him. The offer throws you off course for a little bit in the afternoon sun.

“What do you think, Q? You up for a little excursion tomorrow?”

“Sure. It couldn’t hurt. You trust these two.Techinically dating one, but that’s besides the point.” The two of you laugh before realizing you set up a first date right under your nose.

“Careful with this one Mattsun,” your friend teases, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. Your bag is now carried on one of your shoulders after you leave the cafe. “Q is really one of a kind. A gem if you will. See you guys tomorrow morning. If it’s snowing, we’re both staying indoors and you two can run together…”

It didn’t snow the following morning.

--House Hours--

You heard movie nights were a tradition, so you had tagged along with your host for the weekend away from home. The first day you had arrived, you had hot cocoa with her ‘reverse harem’ as she would like to call it followed by having dinner with her aunt and uncle; the following morning and true to their words, both Makki and Mattsun picked you two up for the daily morning run which ended with your friend getting another piggyback ride from her boyfriend (and you wonder why she fakes it from time to time, but it’s worth the way Makki’s ears burn a scarlet hue), yet you keep a steady pace much to the other party’s delight; the rest of the second day was filled with you trying to piece back together the shredded blueprints your sister ripped in front of your face. You look at the scraps tossed on the floor of the spare bedroom you were staying in and when the aunt of your best friend walks in to ask you a question, she doesn’t proceed with it since your sniffling kicked in her maternal mode: you explain to her you allow yourself to feel horribly for about five to ten minutes daily and you move on about your day, however after this particularly rudeness your sister had showcased, you needed more time before you were able to head back to your suburb. Her niece had explained the situation already a few days prior to your train arriving, but to see the damaging effects it had on you, her aunt calmed you down with some sage advice:

“Your faith is shaken, but you still believe. Give ‘em hell kiddo. I got you,” she says pulling you into a side hug. “Now, shall we make some tea? I think you deserve a break.”

Your friend came back from running an errand to the store because she wanted to buy a few more strips of tape as well as another set of trail mix with the granola clusters you like. See, you were invited at the request of the benevolent prince to his home to indulge in a movie night. “Makki said we’re going to start off the movie night at Oiks’ place with whatever you want to watch. It was Mattsun’s idea too apparently,” your friend says, handing you a hair elastic.

“Can you ask them if Oikawa is ok with playing ‘His Girl Friday’?”

“Sure thing.”

You two had dressed in similar fashions lately due to the steady drop in temperature.A lot of muted royal colors were your in your wheelhouse of clothes you had brought with you, so tonight it was forest green tweed pants layered with a peasant belted sweater dress. Your host had snapped a photo of you getting ready and she nearly choked back a laugh when you scold her for sending it to her boyfriend.

“You look stellar,” she says when she brushes her hair back into a loose ponytail.

“Do I though? When was the last time you saw the scars the fiberglass left on my shoulder, chise?”

“Seventh grade,” she answers. “Scars or not, you’re still my best friend. Even if you just made a portmanteau of the harem’s nickname for me.”

You bop your head and laugh. “I suppose you’re right… we should get going, yeah?”

Oikawa house, 19:32

You walk side by side with your friend after she mentions it was her turn to bring the snacks. You divide the work explaining that you know what they need more than you do. Although all dreams must end, your life was not some hallmark film. Sometimes the hardest thing and the right ones are the same, your subconscious reminds you to be more freeing of your worries.

“Let go have some fun,” you mumble. You reach the counter with your friend ahead of you. She had the usual assortment of candy to mix into the popcorn, she noticed you have new pens and a crossword puzzle.

“Crossword puzzles in ink was always something I wanted to try,” your voice is confident. “Besides, didn’t you say the boys were providing the food?”

When the final tally was tabulated, you leave the store together and head north at the next intersection, you two walk reminiscing your play days together.

“Oh! Your mother was so angry,” you friend says laughing about the time you stole one of her baking sheets to go sledding. “Wasn’t she going to use that pan for the crescents at the holiday party?”

“Yeah, she was. Haha,” your laugh is a foreign sound. However it is a sound you don’t often make anymore.

“You miss her too,” you friend says as she stops in front of a modern home.

“What child doesn’t?” You ask looking up at the sky.

The constellations twinkle a tarnished image of a family who prided themselves in raising functional perfected youths and while your sister doted on your parents every whim, you rebelled. The rebellion sparked many fears for your family; a tomboy with a high marks should not get into scuffles on the school yard. Such a fiery spirit could only be doused for so long. You were allowed to keep your hobby of drawing because it’s what calms you the doctors mentioned. Ever since the first cold snap when you lost your mother (you were a child in the seat behind her solving a crossword in pencil) in a hit and run, the last embers of creativity sparked a carnal desire to be free. Yet here you were seven years later with a sister so emotionally damaged who in her toxic mindset didn’t understand that for you, art and designing (like the paint job you oversaw before your childhood neighbor moved across town) for automotive purposes was your way to find balance. The girl who moved across town to be close to family had a stronger support system, but after hearing what her aunt had to say it suddenly makes sense, so when she calls you out from your trance, you remember you are always evolving: keep moving. One step at a time.

“Oikawa’s place is this one? Wow he really is a prince with a castle,” you joke in the front walkway.

“I know right? I know he’s one of the top setters in the prefecture, but with all those interviews he does, it helps, haha. Mind holding this real quick?”

The small convenience store bag is passed to you to hold for a moment while your friend knocks thrice times.

On the inside the boys were talking amongst themselves. It had been three days since you arrived for your holiday, and each morning after your first night, you woke up at six to run with half of the team (Makki, Mattsun, you, and your host).

“Q is really good at keeping up with us,” Mattsun says. There is a moment where he notices his friends stop talking. They figure it out and tease the tallest middle blocker like he was discovering a crush for the very first time.

“Oh~ is our little Mattsukawa finally growing up?” Oikawa cooed. Luckily Iwazumi’s shuts him up saying to get the door.

Makki sends Mattsun a text and judging by his best friend’s face, Makki confirms his disposition. Iwazumi mentions he’d be heading to the couch in the living room to create more space for the girls and Oikawa.

“Chisana mentioned you wanted to watch ‘His Girl Friday,’ so it’s already queued up.”

“Yeah, it’s really well written. Thank you,” you carry on the conversation as naturally as Oikawa points out the half bathroom in case you need it out of anything you can have your friend show you where things are since this wasn’t the first time everyone’s been over since the school year has started.

“No problem. Ah! Here we are,” Oikawa’s arm extends outward to showcase the kitchen area where the rest of group was. Makki greeted your friend first and you wave politely. You say a quick hello to Iwazumi and you know if you could hear a stare, you would when you greet Mattsun last.

“Greeted him last, huh?” you friend muses.

“You greeted your strawberry first,” you argue back.

“I don’t mind,” Mattsun says, his voice is hauntingly rich like the darkened wood finish on the tables outside. He leans in a little toward you before he stands he whispers in your ear, “you look pretty.” Your mood changed slightly as you hear his compliment. Then you remember the company you are in front of.

“We’ll go on ahead,” Makki suggests as he grabs the bowl of popcorn he separated for your friend to dump all the candies in. You nod when your friend silently slides you both kit-kat minis for luck.

“I heard you,” you say softly before you tap the back of the middle blocker’s hand. “C’mon, let’s not keep our friends waiting.”

Mattsun doesn’t give you the opportunity to remove you hand because he turns his palm up and you run your fingers barely ghosting over his future line from palm reading; you both hold a conversation behind curious eyes.

“Leave them alone, they’ll be alright,” your friend says in a lower tone.

Makki backs up the sentiment his girlfriend states with a stern glare at both Oikawa and Iwazumi, as one of them clicks the console control and the opening credits start to play.

And just once, you remember what your scars mean: it’s kind of fun to do the impossible. You eat the KitKat your friend left behind as you walk away from the kitchen and sit next to Iwazumi. Mattsun observes this and decides to take matters into his own hands literally. He walks toward Oikawa’s den area, he chooses to sit on the floor in front of you like a guard dog throughout the rest of the film. The film wraps up while the next film was being chosen. When the conversation goes on much longer than expected, you can excuse yourself for a moment back to the kitchen to pick up your crossword puzzle; you cross back to the other side of the den’s layout to sit down where you were earlier. Your pen is in your hand (youyou had tucked into the bag) as you begin to solve the first puzzle.

“I’m just saying horror movies are great,” Oikawa said. “Sci fi too.”

“Then it shouldn’t be that hard to choose,” you quip without looking up from your booklet. Your pen moves diligently as you flip over to the next page. To be quite honest, you aren’t really paying that much attention to notice Iwazumi and Mattsun switched places.

“Twilight Zome collection it is!” Oikawa exclaimed. He pressed play.

The evening draws to a close once you see that almost everyone had taken short catnaps around each other. You questioned whether or not the boys slept, but at least one or two of your company stayed awake.You close the crossword puzzles when Mattsun turns his head to look at you; you quirk an eyebrow at him You two were the only ones awake during this round of animated featurettes, so when Mattsun reaches for one of your hands he forces you forward a little too much, but you stop yourself from toppling over. You whisper something to him, causing him to make room for you on the floor; when you are sitting next to him, you lean into the side of his arm comfortably.

“My my, someone is affectionate today,” you tease.

“You don’t make it any easier,” he whispers in low tones to you.

“I suppose that is true. Is this ok? I mean, your face is more impressionable now than before,” you call him out on the subtle changes of his features.

“Is it? I haven’t noticed. My running partner is improving,” he tells this to you when you hold his hand in yours again. Neither of you want to let go.

“I think this is the beginning of something new,” you say calmly. “I’m still healing,you know.”

Instead of an answer, he shows you his understanding through squeezing your hand in a gentle manner: ‘you don’t need to run; you’re fine as you are.’

A couple minutes go by before you nod off. Mattsukawa was about to ask you a question, but chuckles lightly to himself that his question would be saved for another time. To him you are much more than a casual acquaintance of his best friend’s girlfriend. You’re shaping up to be someone he likes to know more of; you gravitate towards each other and now perhaps he realizes the appeal of having someone be a constant in life. There are many people who take the time to learn everything about the person they are crushing on, yet you and him are laid back enough to balance out your friends’ personality. You on the other hand are learning to forgive yourself one day at a time, but it’s the first time someone else is willing to wait for you. How long, you don’t know, and yet here was this casual acquaintance from your best friends new neighborhood willing to wait for you to feel better about yourself. Mattsukawa tells you how he wants to hang out with you tomorrow; just the two of you. You were lucid enough to agree.

Next >>

#mattsukawa issei x reader mini series #this is part 1 and 2 #⌚️queued #tw: toxic sibling behavior #tw: strong language and violence #tw:mental health and learning to deal with trauma #angst to fluff mattsun x reader #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻sora scribbles #🌻.txt

9 notes · View notes

camelotremix · 4 years

Text

2020 Camelot Remix REVEALS & MASTERLIST

♥ Thank you everyone for joining us again this year, we hope to see you all again next year! ♥ We've had some fantastic remixes this year and want to thank all of our remixers for your hard work - you've been AMAZING. ♥ Thank you to everyone who read, commented, kudosed or showed love in any way for the works created. And if you haven't left some comments, kudos, or love. Here's your chance! Your ever-loving mods, Kitty & Fifty ♥

Fic: slantedknitting wrote A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Merman (the ocean remix) for lfb72 (Merlin/Arthur – NC-17 – 42k) Summary: Merlin lives a fairly simple life underwater. He teaches history, and he teaches magic. The magic teaching isn’t allowed, though, and to test his loyalty, Queen Nimueh sends him on a mission to destroy a nearby ship and drown any and all passengers. When Merlin can’t bring himself to kill the handsome sailor, instead saving his life, Queen Nimueh bans him from the ocean, forcing him to take up a new life on land. Fic: awyvern wrote Revenge (the Hat of Horror Remix) for kunstlerin69 / keeperofstories (Merlin/Arthur – NC-17 – 1.5k) Summary: Morgana arranges a bachelor auction, and Merlin gets assigned the worst attire. But had Arthur anything to do with it? Fic: schweet_heart wrote Know Him Blind (the Looking For You remix) for aeris444 (Gwaine/Percival – G – 852w) Summary: "And then my soul saw you and it kind of went 'Oh, there you are. I've been looking for you.’” – Iain S. Thomas. Two men walk into a bar. What happens next is history. Fic: geekslave wrote Where I Find Peace for moonflower999 (Merlin/Arthur – PG – 4.5k) Summary: Growning up, all Arthur longed for was a true place to call home. By the time he was twelve, he found two of them - one was a magical spot in the woods. The other was a miracle named Merlin. Art: altocello created Knowing When (to hold me close, let me go): the Mother's Love remix for merlocked18 (Merlin/Arthur (implied) – G – Art) Summary: Hunith, knowing when to hold her child close in his grief, and when to let go. Fic: camelittle wrote The Rats are Getting Bigger! The 'Hot Mess DragonDads are Back' Remix for fifty-fifty (Merlin/Arthur – PG-13 – 10.8k) Summary: It was bad enough that Merlin had to keep both his magic and his almighty crush on the prince a secret, while simultaneously having to occupy a space next to the room where Arthur bathed, slept and changed. But having to hide a baby dragon as well? Intolerable. Fic: keeperofstories wrote The Delights of Eavesdropping (A Tasting His Lips Remix) for dhampir1508 (Merlin/Arthur – PG-13 – 3.7k) Summary: Merlin gets a compliment. Several, in fact. Arthur gets a little hot...and then very bothered. ART: eisbaerfussel created Coffee made by a King - A "Until the End of Days" Remix for clea2011 (Merlin/Arthur – G – Art) Summary: Soft light, a bright kitchen, and coffee made by your King... this is how love goes, isn't it? FIC: ajsrandom wrote On My Way (The Homecoming Remix) for elveatas (Merlin/Morgana – E – 1.1k) Summary: Merlin contemplates his impending homecoming, especially what he wants to do to his wife, whom he hasn't seen in three years. FIC: excaliburstark wrote Go Gently (When I Die Remix) for geekslave / Geeklover (Merlin/Arthur – G – 1.3k) Summary: When Arthur Pendragon witnesses a car crash it forces him to to open up about his deeply buried feelings for his best friend. FIC: aeris444 wrote The Prefect bedroom for fractionallyfox (Gwaine/Leon – PG – 592w) Summary: Gwaine doesn't understand why Leon has such a large bedroom ART: lfb72 created The Once and Future Roller King (AKA the roll to me remix) for pelydryn77 (Arthur/Merlin – T – Art) Summary: Arthur had been back from the dead for five days when Merlin decided to take him roller skating. Merlin’s primary motivation was to see the mighty king fall on his backside, alas, just like everything else, Arthur takes the eighties disco scene in his stride and totally rocks in his red satin shorts and sunglasses. FIC: impala_chick wrote Looking to the Sky (the Oh Canada remix) for amphigoury (Merlin/Arthur – T – 8.8k) Summary: It's Arthur's last year as a Snowbirds pilot, and he wants to ensure the squadron has the best year they've ever had. He's confident that his half-sister Morgana will be their new rising star, but he's completely unprepared to meet his match in the form of pilot Merlin Emrys. FIC: lairofthedragon wrote Hypopyrexia for camelittle (Merlin/Arthur – E – 4k) Summary: If anyone had asked Merlin what he expected his day to be like, he would have said, "Nothing special." How could he have known that he'd end up getting drugged, shot at, and mated, all within the span of two very short hours? FIC: clea2011 wrote Perfect 10 (The Affectionately, Adoringly Remix) for violeteyedhair / KimliPan (Gwaine/Leon, Merlin/Arthur, Gwen/Lance – PG – 9.5k) Summary: Merlin works in Gwen and Lance's coffee shop. And what every coffee shop needs is a postcard exchange, obviously. In which Merlin tries a spot of matchmaking for lonesome Leon. Gwaine is not his first choice. And Arthur is absolutely not supposed to join in, whatever Gwen thinks. Of course, nothing goes to plan... FIC: degrees / aoigensou wrote Theatricality (Variation on a Duet Arranged for Two Lovestruck Imbeciles and Pianoforte) for awyvern / wyvern (Arthur/Merlin – M – 21k+) Summary: When Lord Arthur Pendragon, son of His Grace Uther Pendragon, 11th Duke of Norfolk, went to the Theatre Royal that fateful evening he hadn’t been expecting to become so enchanted with the lead actor, Mr. Merlin Ambrose. But Arthur is used to getting what he wants, and if he wants an actor then he will do what it takes to get him regardless of the societal norms that forces him to keep his desires hidden. Even if it means lying about his identity and obtaining work behind the scenes. Little does he know, Mr. Ambrose has a secret of his own. OR: The gay Regency romance fic nobody asked for. FIC: linorien wrote A Week in Your Shoes for ajsrandom (Merlin/Morgana – PG – 14.5k) Summary: When it all became too much, Morgana and Merlin just wanted a week off. No annoying nobles, no troublesome students. But they couldn’t afford a week off. However, they could come up with a clever way to trade responsibilities (and bodies). FIC: dhampir1508 wrote The Harvester Remix for excaliburstark (Merlin/Arthur – PG – 1.8k) Summary: Merlin can't wait for his husband Arthur to return from a weeklong family visit. ART: merlocked18 created Remix of You've Made An Addict of Me for impala_chick (Merlin/Arthur – M – Art) Summary: Arthur can't stop thinking about Emrys, the King of the Druids, and the way Emrys had made him feel last time he visited the man in his cave. Emrys was no angel, he was magic, able to manipulate and manhandle Arthur, using magic to gods know what nefarious purposes, yet Arthur could not get him out of his mind. Arthur almost wished for clashes between his patrols and druids, so that he may request another meeting and fit his arms around that lithe waist and lose himself in taste, scent and otherworldly sensation again. FIC: fractionallyfox wrote Strength of the Land (The New Growth Remix) for linorien (Gen – G – 2.8k) Summary: Gwaine takes his promise as Steward of the land very seriously, as seriously as he guards his friendship with Merlin and his oath to Camelot. He fights for Merlin and the land until the very end. And at the end, the land is there for him. FIC: pelydryn77 wrote Kilgharrah, If You Please for polomonkey (Merlin/Arthur – M – 12.4k) Summary: In which I, Kilgharrah the Great, give a fair account, noble and true, of the events that occurred in the story "Get Sick Soon", recorded by Polomonkey but experienced first-hand by me. Don't let any reports of the unreliability of eyewitness testimony sway you. This is what really happened. I was there. And I never misrepresent anything. Just ask Merlin. He'll back me up on this one. Or I'll scratch up his favourite woodcut. The one with the runes designed to ensure potency in bed. FIC: moonflower999 wrote A Bit Of A Shock (The Trust. Remix) for digthewriter (Arthur/Merlin – PG – 1.2k) Summary: Merlin has gone. Arthur finds him after searching for him high and low. Will Merlin forgive him ART: digthewriter created Tarot Cards for altocello (Arthur/Merlin – G – ART) Summary: The Magician and the King of Swords. Merlin: Manifestation, resourcefulness, power, inspired action. Arthur: Mental clarity, intellectual power, authority, truth.Wednesday FIC: polomonkey wrote Through His Eyes (The Look At Me Remix) for lairofthedragon / TheDragon (Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/Knights – R – 2.5k) Summary: He loves to watch and Merlin loves to be watched. He loves to dominate and Merlin loves to be dominated. They’re a perfect match for each other in so many ways. Arthur and the knights have their way with Merlin. ART: amphigory created Decisions, Decisions (the Episode - Choose Your Shovelware Remix) for eisbaerfussel (Arthur/Merlin – R – ART) Summary: Arthur has to decide what to do when he catches Merlin playing NSFW video games during work hours..... AGAIN! FIC: fifty-fifty wrote The Quartermaster Who Loved Him (The Bondverse Remix) for degrees / aoigensou (Arthur/Merlin – NC-17 – 9.2k) Summary: Merlin Emrys is a researcher and one of Her Majesty’s best and brightest at MI6 headquarters. His latest tech is a huge hit with the secret service and everything seems to be going swimmingly, until a hot new 00 agent comes along and messes things up royally. Or how Merlin and Arthur met, and what happened next. FIC: elveatas wrote The Mistletoe Conspiracy (The Mistletoe Madness Remix) for slantedknitting (Arthur/Merlin – G – 3.7k) Summary: As a prank, Morgana has put up enchanted mistletoe all over the castle, which traps whoever steps beneath one until they've been kissed by their true love. As such, Arthur has memorised every single location of mistletoe to avoid being trapped and having to confess his inappropriate love for his assistant, Merlin. And his vigilance pays off; he doesn’t get caught even once. But Merlin does, which is worse. ART: eisbaerfussel created Meanwhile, In Another Dimension - A "The Adventures Of Arthur Rabbit" Remix for schweet_heart (Arthur/Merlin – G – ART) Summary: The problems one might encounter if one was born as a bunny.

#camelot remix #camelot remix 2020 #merlin fanfic #merlin fanart #bbc merlin

7 notes · View notes