#I have so much lore planned out for this thing...

[captainmera]

Words can't describe how much I love your modern au for the folktale trio. As always your Evelyn is the skrunkly scrimbo of all time, and Caleb as an exhausted barista is just perfect. Any lore you care to share about this au?

Sure! :D

And thank you! Haha, it's rather fun actually! And yes, skrunkly little powerhouse, there she goes. :3

Modern AU character synopses and plot ideas(?) Under cut!

EVELYN:

Evelyn is fighting with her mum and runs away to live in an abandoned tower. Now that she's trying to live independently, her older sisters advise her to become a bounty hunter (since she's so powerful, it should be easy! ..probably!)

And, because she's got a special interest in the human realm, she dives head first into chasing criminals who try to hide there.

Evelyn basically does what Eda was doing after she lost most of her magical power. Having to do odd jobs and hunt bounties. Except, for Ev, she takes jobs she can do in the human realm. She finds collectables to sell to shops (like tibbles), and hunts bounties.

She also tries to figure out why Gravesfield got so many little portal holes? It's as if someone in Gravesfield is opening them.. hm!

CALEB:

Caleb is a struggling barista at the coffee shop, who's raising his little brother and had to drop out of high school to work.

He's depressed, hates everything, and one sad night he uncovers a demon disguised as a human - who tries to kill him. He's rescued by a "local" strange and homeless girl (Evelyn), and he has now made himself enemy number one to a criminal gang by picking up a magical item (a disc with a moon on it) from the now-beaten-and-captured demon.

He still likes to carve wood, and is a bit of a shy artist. He doesn't believe his figurines or wood artwork is of any worth or interest.

He's also a closeted bisexual who wants to be out but terrified of being shunned from the community (the church) that helped him when he was/is struggling financially. He owes them a lot of gratitude for getting him his low-wage job and birthday/Christmas gifts for Philip via their support programs. As well as their poverty support.

He feels very indebt to the church (and they kind of use it against him too) and he feels stuck.

PHILIP:

Philip, the school weirdo who will not shut up about ghosts and demons. He runs a mewtube vlog about demonic beings and monsters. His online name is "Belos."

He's got no irl friends, loves horror video games and listens to the soundtrack from Zombie Deer the musical on repeat.

Philip makes his own ghost hunting gear, and goes exploring old abandoned places to hunt ghosts, try to summon demons, open portals, etc. To his knowledge, it has never worked...... to his knowledge, that is.

THE WITTEBANE BROTHERS:

Their parents are dead. Caleb stepped up to the role, and it's a lot to deal with. The brothers never talk about their parents. Their house (like the Noceda home) is full of pictures and half-finished projects. The brothers are in grief limbo. Caleb avoids and just keeps-calm-and-carries-on, Philip uses escapism and secludes himself.

Caleb has been gut punched hard by life's reality-check fists and has not recovered. He's more or less she'd and dropped his hobies and dreams because "that's just life, rat-girl. You either adjust and fit in, or, buh-bye!"

He unfortunately takes this pessimistic and depressive attitude out on Philip, creating a divide between the brothers. (Like Camila and Luz, except Caleb is less gentle about it)

Caleb wants Philip to start living in the hard, real world. Philip, however, wants to stay frozen in the fantasy that; if ghosts are real, then their parents aren't truly gone, and things can go back to how it was before. Kind of. Almost.

"How it was before" being him and Caleb watching monster movies together, where Caleb was just an older brother and not an adult-too-soon that boss him around. "Before" being when Caleb was happy, and didn't sit up late at night reading bills and planning the next meal with coupons.

Philip doesn't want to be the "normal" Caleb asks of him, because to him; that normal doesn't exist anymore.

While Caleb tries to conform too much to his new hopeless mindset that he has no control at all, anyway, so why fight it at all?

Philip is turning 15 soon.

FOLKLORE TRIO DYNAMIC

After saving him, and introducing him to a whole new reality of witches, demons and magic.. Caleb loses his marbles a little. Life is more nuanced than he thought - maybe he's not so stuck after all. Maybe there's alternatives?

Evelyn needs a human guide, and in exchange for his help, he gets jewels he can trade in for cash. And he gladly shakes her hand on that.

Now he's got money for bills, food, and necessities, and he can even save money for Philip to go to college. This is going to be Calebs birthday present to Philip. To give him the future and life he never could have.

Evelyn is happy to have a guide, and friend. But as she becomes closer friends with the Wittebane brothers, she discovers there's trouble in the household.

Philip is also suspicious of her. To him, and the locals of Gravesfield, she's a crazy homeless girl who chases random citizens yelling about them being demon criminals. As well as stealing miscellaneous things from dumpsters. Like broken toasters and yoga mats.

A girl whom Caleb has befriended because she ate his customers' leftovers. Philip is less than keen on their budding friendship, and his brother's apparent crush on her. Philip, in the beginning, feels like she's taking advantage of Caleb’s good heart. But discovers soon enough that she's actually really nice, and is more than happy to talk about demons and magic with him.

ANTAGONIST PLOT: EVELYNS MUM.

Ev is a powerful witch, but has a bailsack condition where the sack is too large (that's why she's a powerhouse), but it has a physical affect on her. She can get lethargic or "turn gray" as she calls it (like when a basilisk sucks a witch empty on magic)

Evelyn wants to be a researcher and an author. She wants to learn from the human realm and use their inventions and adaptability to help the demon realm.

Evelyn's mum doesn't want her to go her own way.

Despite knowing her daughter's condition, she still wants her to utilise her power. She's trying to turn Ev to various plant-magic corporations to make mass production of crops, to help fight the famines.

Evelyn wants to understand how humans do things because they have no magic and they still sustain somehow.

She has a hard time arguing with her mother. She wants to appease her (find a human invention replacenent) and also go her own way. But it's just not how things goes.

Caleb becomes Evelyn's one defender and protector.

While standing up for her, he also realises hiw he's been treating Philip. Telling him who to be and how to fit in, instead ofvtrying to understand why Philip needs to escape into his hoby so much.

Evelyn's mother does not like Caleb, and doesn't like how the human is able to bark back to her - armed with reason and solid arguments, too.

She's been trying to guilt Evelyn into shouldering the whole world, more or less, by making her sacrifice her happinessand well being to keep famine away.

Which, obviously, hits Caleb close to home. And he makes an enemy out of Mrs.Clawthorne.

Mrs.Clawthorne wants Calebs influence on Evelyn gone. Caleb must be removed.

She discovers that there's someone else who doesn't like Caleb, and wants to get him (caleb got their disc after all.) And strikes a deal with them.

ATAGONIST PLOT: THE DISC

Evelyn takes both the brothers to her realm at some point, to hide them from the criminal that has it in for Caleb. Not knowing her mother is assisting the criminal.

In exchange of getting rid of Caleb, they can have the disc.

This is when Pip and Ev discovers that Caleb HAS the disc in the first place. And has been using it as a mirror decor in his bedroom. To him, it was just a keepsake from the first time he met Evelyn, and to commemorate that the night actually happened.

Philip has, at that point, gathered enough knowledge to know what the disc actually is: from what he knows, it supposedly grants wishes?

And he wants to use it to bring their parents back.

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

AND THAT'S ABOUT IT SO FAR?? :,D

[mams-is-my-will-to-live]

Hm hm hm... I miss obey me. But my brain cant handle four games at once. Too much lore my brain cant keep up with genshin,HSR, OM and OM!NB With that said here's a small snippet of a brain blurb I got from missing obey me content. It actually is the beginning technically? But I also already have the backstories and stuff. Umm this obviously doesnt follow canon altho the important bits happened..except nightbringer.... just obey me stuff.

🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃🌃

It felt quick like lightning as MC blocked a hit meant for the seraphim. As Blood spilt out of their lips they gave out a smile looking behind them as they fell slowly to the ground.

"Ah... even if I say I hate you... I still..." their breaths started to become shallow as Michael watched in horror. Hurriedly cradling their body as if he is holding someone precious.

"MC! Please stop talking..." he begs the human.

"Heh... Don't cry Michael... it... it's my job as your shadow afterall...." Michael was frozen as he tried to put pressure on MC's wound. He didn't even acknowledge the brothers behind him nor Simeon and the demon prince and his butler.

"Please.... I-" whatever Michael was about to say was interrupted by MC.

"There's no use..." MC took a labored shuddery breath obviously having a hard time breathing. They laughed as if seeing something funny.

"I already knew I would die early..." Michael only tried to heal them but with no use. MC reached out a pale hand stopping him.

"After everything... I take back what I said. " Smiling softly up at Michael.

"Thank you for being my brother and raising me" mustering a smile they continued speaking. "I forgive you..." MC seems to have something more to say however it was cut off. MC looks fondly at the the brothers and Diavolo and the rest.

"No..." In a split second decision Michael fed her food from the celestial realm before they took their last breath but it was simply too late. MC was gone. Everyone there was quiet. Michael still tightly cradling MC's still warm body. His wings covering them was stained at the tips with MC's blood.

No one dared to move however that was until Lucifer in all his glory faced Michael with a simple word. Anger lacing his voice paired with confusion shock and hurt.

"Explain..." Michael looked at the angry demons with eyes that looked ready to kill.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○○

Meanwhile in the celestial realm an Angel woke up from what seems to be a long slumber. Opening their eyes they look around in confusion that is until they heard a deep voice adressing them.

"Welcome my child... you have slept far too long." Staring dazed at where the general direction where the voice came from they answered back.

"Thank you Father..." the voiced hummed pleased.

"You'll do well here..." the voice paused for a bit as if thinking about what to say next.

"MC." All according to plan...

[fireyartccoon]

ok so I might’ve forgotten to get something ready for Wednesday BUT-

you can have Nine and Chaos Sonic from my Sonic Prime AU being siblings instead

[ccherrybloom]

Ashtrays & Antihistamines Pt. 1

oc, m, hayfever, wc: 2.8k

Part 2

CW: foul language and allusions to gay sex lol

~~

a.n. + summary: i don't think i've ever posted a snzfic on this blog, but there's a first for everything, right? featuring my lovely little ocs and their stupid dumb little band. i don't normally write them in snzcerions, but...every now and again i can’t help myself and one slips through the cracks lol. This particular one centers around my absolute shithead of an Irishman, Peter, as he deals with a hayfever flare up for the first time in like…twenty years, lol. of course, ever the lucky one, this begins to happen during the band’s first mini-tour. Cue shenanigans. I hope you all enjoy!

~~

“hH’RRSHhiue!” Peter fell into himself with a harsh sneeze, the band’s rundown van jerking sporadically with its driver’s sudden movement. “Goddamnit!”

“Bless.” Geoff offered lazily from the passenger seat as he turned a page of his book, unbothered by the vehicle’s erratic veer. “That’s like the tenth one since we’ve left Dublin.” The bassist pointed out, shooting the guitarist a pointed look from the corner of his eye. “You alright?”

“Fuckin’ hayfever,” Peter answered as he scrubbed his palm aggressively against the underside of his nose, careful not to put too much pressure against his nose rings. He followed it up with a drawn-out sniffle. “I’m fine. Christ.”

“I don’t remember ya being like this before,” Maurice quipped from the back of the van, leaning forward to join in on the conversation. “I mean hell, ya lived in Dublin fer how many years…?”

“Longer than you, Frenchie.” Peter retorted as he thrust a tattooed hand backwards to try and shove the singer away. Maurice easily dodged with a laugh, swatting at Peter’s hand as Geoff instinctively reached out to steady the van as it began to swerve again. “You can piss right off.”

“Look, I’m just sayin’, yer born and bred Irish — who knew all it took was a few months in London for yer own country to turn on ya.”

“I said piss off.”

“Who gives a shit!” Chris suddenly interjected as he pulled his headphones from his ears, a curly lock of the drummer’s dark hair falling between his eyes. “Just keep your bloody eyes on the road! I dunno ‘bout you lot, but I’d like to get there in one piece.”

Maurice backed off with a snicker, hands up in surrender as Peter quickly flipped Chris off in the rear view mirror before returning his full attention to the road.

After Peter and Maurice had both left Dublin for London a few months shy of one another, the four men began to pour almost all of their free time into their passion project, The Undergrounds. Much to their genuine surprise, people seemed to really enjoy their band’s sound and performances, so much so in fact that they’d hit a point where pubs across the UK were beginning to reach out to them, asking the group to come play for their open mic nights, with some even offering payment. With the requests getting further and further away from their homebase in London, the band finally decided to bite the bullet and buy themselves some transportation, namely their shithole of a van lovingly referred to as Van Halen. Despite its old clunkiness, it really did do the trick, and allowed the men to head across the border on their first ever ‘Let’s-Not-Call-It-A-Tour’ Tour. Realistically, with two of the four members being from (or as close to ‘from’ as one could be, in Maurice’s case) Ireland, the band had picked up quite a bit of traction across the small country with the men getting many open mic night requests which they normally had to turn down, much to Peter’s dismay.

At least until now, that is.

Peter had noticed something was off after their show in Dublin the night prior. At first he just assumed he strained his voice singing backup vocals — a product of over-excitement from getting to play in his old stomping grounds. But by morning the scratchiness in his throat lingered and was now accompanied by faint itchiness in his nose that forewarned him of worse yet to come. 

By the time the men packed up their gear and filed into the van late that afternoon, the unwelcoming prickle that had been festering in his nose demanded more attention, and his eyes began to itch in a maddening way that he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid back in Belfast. Initially he tried to ignore it, chalking it up as a residual reaction to dust from the old pub, or that it had been awhile since Van Halen had gotten a good clean. But as time slowly passed on their nearly three hour drive to Cork, and the itchiness in his sinuses progressed into full-blown sneezing, the reality of the situation began to dawn on him. He was immediately thrust back to Belfast, memories of summers spent constantly sneezing thanks to the fields near his old home, his eyes watering, his nose running, each summer spent absolutely miserable. He hadn’t had a hayfever flare-up in years, thinking it was something he had thankfully outgrown once his mum had moved them to Dublin, but yet here it was, back to rear its ugly head once more all these years later. The familiar lush scents of the countryside that used to conjure such vivid memories of home were now turning every intake of breath the guitarist took into a gamble. 

The itchiness in Peter’s nose only seemed to increase in urgency as Van Halen bumped its way through the Irish countryside. The landscape blurred past the windows, a mix of greens and greys under a sky that threatened rain.

“Nearly there.” Geoff hummed, taking a peek at the map app on his phone. “About another twenty or so.”

“Thank fuck.” Peter grumbled with a sniffle, his eyes squinting past the relentless itchiness. He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and pulled his glasses up slightly before slamming his wrist into one eye and scrubbing hard.

“I think we could all do with a pint,” Maurice chimed in, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially you, Peter.” He added, gently poking the man’s shoulder.

Peter managed a weak chuckle in response, his wrist still pressed hard into the corner of his eye. 

“Just keep it steady Pete, yeah?” Chris leaned himself forward and rested his elbows onto his knees, eyes scanning the road ahead. “Not much longer and you can go ahead and drown yourself in whatever local brew you fancy.”

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but the van hit a particularly bumpy patch of road, jolting everyone inside. Instead he just swore under his breath, turning his full focus back towards the road as Cork began to appear on the horizon.

“There she is.” Geoff whistled, pointing ahead. “Welcome to Cork, lads.”

Peter managed to manoeuvre Van Halen expertly through the narrow streets of Cork despite battling his allergic reaction, the van’s tires crunching over cobblestone as he pulled them into the parking lot of their dingy motel.

“Home sweet home.” Maurice hummed as he clapped a hand onto Peter’s shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as the other two members filed out. “At least fer the next few days.”

Peter leaned back into the driver’s seat and let his eyes drift closed as he exhaled deeply, shutting off the engine. He only cracked an eye back open when he felt Maurice give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“You alright?” The singer asked, his voice low and expression soft.

“I’m grand, Mur.” Peter grumbled, his voice heavy with sarcasm. The real truth of the matter was that he was miserable, itchy, and absolutely dying for a cigarette — not that he cared to say any of that out loud. 

The guitarist pulled off his glasses to give his watery eyes another scrub before continuing. “Just got a fierce bad dose of this nonsense…This shite best be all said and done before our show or I’ll–hh! hH’ITSHHhiue!”

“See, but that’s what we don’t wantcha doin’, actually.” The blonde teased as he patted the guitarist’s shoulder before the other quickly slapped it away as if he were swatting a mosquito.

“You fuck right off, Murry.” Peter sniffled hard, dragging the backside of his hand beneath his nose. “Just get yer shit and get goin’.”

Maurice did as he was told and hopped out of the van with Peter not far behind as the pair hurriedly began to help the others unload. With the sky steadily darkening the four moved quickly, eager to avoid the potential rain. Luckily the unloading and reloading of Van Halen had become more and more familiar with each passing gig, and it didn’t take them long to have all the necessities laid out beside the van, ready to go.

The motel itself was a shabby vintage looking two-story building, its neon sign flickering with an almost uncertain intermittence as if it were clinging onto its last shred of life.

Maurice and Geoff took the lead, carrying the group’s heavier equipment while Chris and Peter followed suit with their four bags. They bustled their way to the reception desk where they were met with a disinterested looking clerk who simply handed them a single worn key with a faded plastic tag attached.

“Yer in room 107.” He mumbled, barely looking up from his magazine.

“Cheers, mate.” Geoff scoffed as he shot the others an exasperated look and snatched the key. He led the group down the dimly lit hallway, their feet dragging against a carpet that had clearly seen better days. When they reached their room Geoff wasted no time unlocking the door and shoving it open, revealing a tightly packed space with two queen beds, a small television, and a bathroom that looked like it hadn’t been updated in at least two decades.

“Alright, how we doin’ this?” Chris asked as he tossed the bags he had onto the closest bed.

“By drawing straws, of course.” Geoff instructed as he pulled a set of straws he had prepared earlier out of his pocket. “Shortest straw shares with the other shortest straw.”

The others agreed on this being fair enough and drew their straws, quickly comparing them.

“Well, it’s you and me, innit?” Chris said as he held up his short straw next to Peter’s. He gave the other a playful nudge and smirked. “Just don’t go tryin’ nuffin, yeah?”

Peter sniffled thickly and shoved Chris away before pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, careful to avoid the rings, and itched it aggressively. “I got enough of ya the first time.” He moved from rubbing his nose to scrubbing his eyes, trying to ignore the way Maurice bristled at the mention of their one-off fling. “Won’t be doin’ that again.” Chris flipped him off and called him a wanker, but he went ahead and ignored that too.

“Hey, Pete,” Geoff called out as he tossed his bag onto the other bed. “Why don’t you take a shower? Might help clear up a bit of that hayfever.”

Peter, who’s eyes had started to glaze over, did his best to nod in the ginger’s general direction. “That’s the best ideee-hha I’ve heard all d—hh! hhUH’DITSHhhiuew! ‘IGKSHhhiueww!” He doubled over hard into cupped hands, his entire body tensing violently with each sneeze before he groaned thickly against his palms. “—all damn day.” He finished on an exhale, voice cracking. “-snf- Jaysus…”

“Bless you.” Geoff offered, a twinge of sympathy in his voice. “You know you really ought to—”

“G’way outta that.” Peter interjected with a dismissive wave of his hand as he trudged his way to the bathroom, eyes half-lidded. “Last thing I need is yer bloody mother hennin’, Geoffrey.” He added before pulling the door closed behind him. 

Flicking the light switch, Peter had to wait a full second before the dull fluorescents sputtered to life, illuminating the unsightly bathroom as he dragged his feet towards the shower. The tiles were cracked and the floor was splotchy, but he didn’t care, he just wanted some relief. 

The pipes whined in protest as he turned on the taps before water began to sputter out from the shower head. The water pressure seemed abysmal at best, and Peter cursed to himself as he leaned his weight against the sink, waiting for the water to warm. As steam steadily started filling the small space, he could feel the tightness in his sinuses ease up slightly, making his nose run. The liquid caught on his septum ring and trailed rapidly down towards his upper lip. Blowing out an annoyed breath, the guitarist took a second to wipe his nose haphazardly against his sleeve before stripping and stepping into the tub, letting the warm water cascade over him with an appreciative sigh.

Outside of the bathroom Geoff and Maurice were seated on each side of their shared bed as they sorted through their bags.

“Think he’ll live?” Maurice asked as he pulled out his plastic toiletry bag, setting it to the side.

Geoff gave a small shrug in return, glancing towards the bathroom door. “I reckon it could go either way with that dumb git.”

Maurice snorted at this, but his knit brow betrayed his feigned air of nonchalance. “Just hope the shower helps, I s’ppose. Don’t think we can really afford to have him down fer the count.”

Chris, already sprawled out on the other bed, headphones back on, piped up. “Eh, he’ll be alright. Just needs to wash off whatever’s settin’ ‘im off. It’s no big, yeah? You French people are wound too tight.”

Maurice rolled his eyes at this but chose to ignore the drummer’s comment. “I just don’t want anythin’ to screw this up for us.” He murmured as his eyes fell onto the bathroom door. “That’s all.”

“hh-Hh! hH’dDZTShiueww!” Peter sneezed loudly and openly, his head snapping downwards as the shower’s stream continued to steadily pelt against his tattooed back. He blinked hard, eyes bleary as the need to sneeze lingered in his nose like an unwelcome houseguest. Instinctively he brought up a hand to hover over the lower half of his face as his breathing began to come out in shuddering, shallow gasps. “hah…Ha’TdSHhhiuew!” This one bent him double and he swore immediately afterwards, more than a little frustrated as he blew his nose harshly into his hand. Had his hayfever always been this maddening? He couldn’t remember. It had been a long time since he’d had a flare-up, probably pushing two decades at least. The thought that it had come back now during the band’s first tour just pissed him off further.

Sighing, Peter turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, reaching out for one of the worn threadbare towels from the hotel rack. He dried himself off quickly before wrapping the towel dangerously loose around his waist – the only member who had yet to see his dick was Geoffrey, and the guitarist couldn’t give less of a shit if today was the day that changed.

Wiping a hand across the fogged bathroom mirror, Peter allowed himself a moment to peer at his reflection as he dragged a hand through his damp, dark hair and threw on his glasses. His green eyes were still red-rimmed and watery, his nose and cheeks were decorated with a soft dusting of pink…he looked pathetic, but at least the shower was helping him breathe a little easier.

Residual steam billowed out into the cooler room as Peter made his way out of the bathroom, catching the eye of Maurice.

“Peter,” The singer looked up from his bag and offered the dark-haired man a small smile, taking in the other’s lean frame. “How ye fairin’?” 

“Bit better, I’d say.” Peter hummed, though a small sniffle still escaped him as he wandered over to his bag, making Maurice frown.

“Reckon you’re up for a drink?” Geoff asked, not looking up from his phone. “We were thinking of checking out this pub nearby. Interested?”

Peter mulled it over for a moment, turning his back on the others before dropping his towel and pulling on a pair of boxer-briefs. “Yeah, g’wan then.” He finally affirmed, clearing his throat against a fist as he fished an old t-shirt from his bag. “Pint’ll do me some good.”

“Are ya sure?” The singer asked, chewing on his lip nervously as Peter wiggled into a pair of jeans. “If yer not feelin’ up for it–”

“Sod off, Maurice, will you?” Chris suddenly retaliated as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Actin’ like you’re his bloody mum or somefin’ just cos you’re shaggin’. Prat.”

Peter couldn’t help but snort as Maurice glared daggers at Chris, his face turning a delightful shade of crimson. The fact that he and Maurice slept together on occasion wasn’t exactly a secret – their initial one-night stand was how the two had met in the first place, after all – but it wasn’t something that was often discussed amongst the group. Peter personally didn’t care, but Maurice clearly did.

“You don’t see me actin’ like a bloody bellend even though I’ve also sucked his–”

“Ça commence à bien faire!” Maurice shot up suddenly from the bed, cutting Chris off as his native tongue spilled rapidly from his mouth. “Fer the love of God, no more, thank you!” 

The singer hurriedly made a beeline for the hotel room door, grabbing his coat as he rushed past the others, his face absolutely aghast as the others snickered. “Just…hurry up, then! Christ, I need a feckin’ drink…”

“I think we all do.” Geoff huffed as Maurice stepped into the hall. “C’mon, lads. Let’s go.”

[redstringraven]

For the TMNT Ask Game!

Could you do #21, #29, and #33?

heck yeah, i can! <:D and thank you!!!

TMNT's 40th anniversary ask game!

21.) what is your favorite story arc?

i'm admittedly a major sucker for the turtles in space arc in s2 because i love triceratons--and especially traximus--if i haven't made that obvious already. i remember losing my mind as a teen when i saw a triceraton for the first time while that arc was airing, because it felt so specifically tailored to ME. i was a massive dinosaur kid, i borrowed dinosaur books from the library constantly, so now you're telling me we have talking dinosaur aliens??? i don't CARE if they're the bad guys, they're SO COOL??? did the writers do this FOR ME??? (they didn't). anyone who knows me also knows i have a tendency to latch onto secondary/minor characters (stares at the 10+ years i've spent writing for dol fma:brotherhood), so when traximus was introduced? bye. this is my favorite ally; the rest of you are great and all but i'm letting my bias win. remains true a decade later. triceratons aside, i also really appreciate it for just... opening up the world a lot more. it made it very, VERY clear that a lot more was out there than just new york. i like that.

29.) what is one headcanon that you have?

ooh, i've kind of been wanting to talk about this one 'publicly' (talked about it with jenn @plantdonutwrites in the past), but since i tend to be kind of on the shy side i usually get worried that i'll be annoying and chicken out of posting about it. >xD i'll use this as my excuse; thank you for enabling me. headcanon(s) on cursing/swearing! because for why! mikey self-proclaimed "good boy, UNLIKE RAPH". does not do a cuss. this is a headcanon shared with jenn since she writes for mikey in our rps. i do sometimes write him thinking cusses, though. such as "The damn thing could go invisible. Even if he had Donnie’s goggles on him, there’d be no body heat to track." in Pretend That I Never Left. might also internally monologue that he 'pissed something off' but won't verbally say it in those words. leo has sworn off cursing but definitely still curses sometimes. very much in line with his 1 and splinter's parenting, he considers cursing 'bad' and ergo doesn't partake in it... when he can help it. he usually has a strong mental filter running, but in times of high stress or high emotion, the filter will drop and he'll say "shit" instead of "shell" or exclaim "fuck!" without thinking. he also tends to drop the filter when alone with raph, because he knows raph won't judge him or think ill of him. also important to note he doesn't think lesser of raph for swearing; it's more of a self-monitoring/self-discipline... thing. if that makes sense. and raph knows this. they're chill. don does curse, but mostly uses it for comedic shock-value, casual moments, or as a bonding method with raph. don won't use curses in high stress or emotion moments like leo, he more does it in casual settings like playing video games or if dropping a swear will make a remark funnier because the swear was unexpected. his cursing is much more playful/humorous, or maybe kind of a way he 'bonds' with raph, like when they watch football together. i feel like he might also do it more around raph because it helps raph feel less like 'the bad kid'. since leo tends to hide or smother any cursing he does and kind of acts regretful afterward, and mikey just doesn't. raph cursing is regular vocabulary. attempts to censor himself around master splinter as a gesture of respect, but isn't always successful. fuck you.

33.) what is your favorite thing you've made for TMNT?

... kind of a toss up between Pretend That I Never Left and my enneagram series. not only did i work very, very hard on both things, but they were both contributions specifically focused on my interests. for the former: combining tmnt'03 with the world of horizon: zero dawn; and for the latter, analyzing the boys through the lens of the enneagram. PtINL gave me something to focus on during a really stressful time, and the enneagram is one of my favorite tools. i dunno. i put a lot of hours into both of those things, a lot of love, and i still enjoy looking back on them after all the time that's passed (even if it's not THAT much time). these two projects make me really happy. i'm proud of them. and i'm glad i took the time to let them exist, whether anyone else engages with them or not. i'm also very happy with how liáfsini is turning out, which is the realm that my OCs gwyn, ash and darach are from. i'm slowly fleshing it out, but seeing it become something real with a grounded culture, history, magic system, and ecosystem has been very exciting and satisfying. i'm really proud of it!!

[mabaris]

alright so now that we’ve gotten some actual crumbs, it feels like it’s a good time to lay out my prediction for what da4 is going to look like. writing this in a letter and mailing it to myself

we are part of an underground organization formed from the ruins of the inquisition to stop solas from ending the world

meanwhile the wardens have been researching the blight/the location of the archdemons and discover some secret about the location of the black city/what is actually contained in it

we’re supposed to be shocked at the reveal that the evanuris are trapped in the black city and the maker doesn’t exist

the ancient elves were in control of some crazy mutating technology (like in hormak) and that was the original source of the darkspawn. the whole thing about them being from the deep roads and a dwarf concern was actually just a red herring, they’re just underground because they’re powered by lyrium and this has ALSO been an elf thing the whole time :)

anyway, now we need to Double Make Sure the veil stays up because the evanuris have something even worse cooking up in the black city and we need to prevent them from unleashing a super blight and destroying all life, and our job is to convince solas to give up, not because we disagree with his plan but because his actions will have unintended consequences. even if he doesn’t care about everyone else and wants to rebuild the world, he won’t even be able to do THAT because the super blight will kill elves too. so although we WERE enemies we will have to band together to defeat the greater threat etc. it will be optional to recruit him as an ally/advisor, or you can just fight him directly and take control of his forces

we will have to cross into the fade AGAIN and storm the black city directly to put a stop to whatever’s going on in there

[brutal-nemesis]

YWDaC: Turns Out, Forever Is a Long Time

Ayo we have FINALLY arrived at the end of Castys's lil pirate misadventure I hope you have enjoyed all of the delicious lore

←Previous - Castys Masterlist

Ingredients: storm at sea activity, mentioned stabbing, suicide for "convenience" (it's not quite the usual level of he doesn't care but it's still not like bro wants to die yk), a little self harm (once again, out of practicality)

What Castys really wanted was to have something for breakfast, but responsibilities came first, so here he was, delivering a message that he could have ordered anyone else to relay, just so he could go back belowdecks and hopefully grab something on the way back, which made him wonder if he should have been given responsibilities in the first place, but oh well, he didn’t put himself in charge. Now, to get this done so he could eat. Castys knocked on the door in front of him, and upon hearing a noise that sounded like a word, he entered. Captain Izogie was sitting with her shirt partially off and her back to him, exposing the bold patterns of white fire ink curling around her dark shoulders. Alfyn was standing behind her with his hands on her bare back, clearly concentrating. It was a sight he’d seen before, but he always felt a little awkward stumbling upon it. 

“Uh, sorry, didn’t realize it was woman magic day.”

Izogie laughed a little as she turned her head to look at him. “Is that what you lot call it?”

“Less of a mouthful than whatever Alfyn says.”

Alfyn just sighed. “Estrogen production stimulation?”

Castys nodded. “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. Anyway, Captain, just thought I’d let you know the sunrise is red this morning, and given the clouds now, we’re all pretty sure it’s gonna storm. And yes,” Castys held up a hand, “preparations are already underway. Just wanted you to be aware.”

Alfyn, finished with Izogie’s treatment, stepped back. “In that case, I have a few things to secure in the med bay. If you’ll excuse me, Captain.”

Izogie nodded as she buttoned her shirt. “Thank you, Alfyn, you’re excused.” He gave Castys a smile as he left. “Thank you as well, Castys.” She gave him a thoughtful look as she pulled her coat on and stood up. “You know, when you first arrived, I wasn’t sure if you were going to last here, but here you are, my first mate, of all things. You’ve grown quite a bit.”

Castys rolled his eyes and smiled, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, yeah, a scared tied up kid rarely looks like he’s gonna amount to anything. And it took you a few years to get that mouth off of me,” he laughed.

“You say that like it’s gone completely,” Izogie said with a glint in her eye, coming up to stand in front of Castys. Despite more than a decade passing, she still towered over Castys, the passage of time only showing in the lines on her face and the gray streaking her hair. He hadn’t grown any taller, but he’d at least gained some muscle and quite a few scars, which was well within the realm of expectation for being a pirate. “Well then, let’s go help out, Castys. This isn’t our first storm, and we need to make sure it won’t be our last.”

“I’d prefer to go down to a sea monster, at least. And I can’t imagine anything short of a hurricane taking you, Captain.”

“I’d like to see one try.” 

The storm that night certainly did.

The rain came down in sheets, driven to needlepoints by the harsh winds. It was more difficult than ever to hear the shouts of the crew as reports and orders were passed around, and Castys’s throat was raw from relaying directions to the men at the helm. He was glad for the storm sails, because even though they hadn’t had time to put all of them up, they were still making good progress through the crashing waves. At least, he hoped so. 

The ship’s bow pierced through another wall of water, and it was all Castys could do to stay on his feet, holding tight to the rope tied around his waist. Shit, one of the men at the helm had collapsed, and there was no one else to take his place. Castys ran up, grabbing the wheel alongside the others as he continued to keep an eye on the angle of the bow and the oncoming waves. It was fine, he could keep this up even as his arms burned from the strain, the hairs that had escaped from his ponytail blowing in his eyes and sticking to his face, making it even harder to see, the ever-louder thunder overhead drowning out the sound of his own voice. Didn’t matter if things were only getting worse, they had to keep-

CRACK

Everything was too loud, or maybe too quiet, roaring and buzzing, he was pressed up against the soaking wood of the deck and there was a ball of dense, sharp agony buried in his chest, making it hard to breathe, he kept coughing, couldn’t stand, couldn’t see, the blackness was coming, fading in and out, and all of a sudden he was belowdecks, blood and rain puddling around him, hands on his chest, pulling up his shirt, the words muffled, his chin moved up, Alfyn’s eyes were gray and full of fear, he hadn’t seen that expression before, or maybe he had, and maybe he was going to die, here, because of the storm, because he couldn’t breathe, time was up, that was it, those thirty-four years were over and done he wasn’t getting that time back no more tries he was satisfied with that right he had to be he couldn’t have any regrets because he wasn’t supposed to but it would have been nice if…if…

Castys woke up to a vast expanse of yellowish-white, which was not the color he expected the afterlife to be. Upon further inspection, though, it turned out that it was just a sheet over his head. After tossing it off and sitting up, he was greeted by a shrill scream that should have come from a young girl but actually came from Alfyn. 

“Chill, dude, you shouldn’t have put that over me if you’d healed me.” Castys narrowed his eyes a bit as he talked. Did his voice always sound like that? Maybe whatever injuries he’d had had damaged his hearing or something. He wasn’t in any pain now, though, so that was good.

“C-Castys you-you’re-how are you-” Alfyn ran over, nearly tackling Castys as he pulled up his tattered shirt to reveal a rather bloodstained but otherwise perfectly fine torso. Castys gave him a weird look, leaning away.

“Uh, you’re the one who fixed whatever it was, weren’t you?” He brushed his wet hair off of his face as he stared down at himself. Why the fuck did he grow his hair out, again? It was annoying as hell like this. 

Alfyn shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t heal you, Castys. You-you were…both of your lungs had collapsed and I-I couldn’t fix it but-” He looked Castys in the eye, frowning. “You…you look different. Younger.” He ran a hand over Castys’s ribs, and Castys was very glad that he was more than used to the medic touching his bare skin. “There’s no scar from what just-” 

“Hey, what are you-” Castys yelped as Alfyn forced him to lean forward, pulling up his shirt even more to expose his back.

“You still had scars from your first day, didn’t you? When you were flogged?”

“Uh, I think so? I don’t really make it a hobby to look at my back, so you’d probably know better than me.” 

Alfyn sighed, letting go of Castys and standing up. “Well, if they were there before, they’re gone now. You…” He looked around at the patients lying on the cots on the other side of the room. “Do you feel alright, Castys?”

“I think so? I’m not in any pain or anything, but…I dunno, does my voice sound weird to you?” There were a few other things that were bothering him, but he couldn’t really get a solid hold on what they were. He just felt different, his thoughts more scattered, his arms less muscular than he remembered, the persistent ache in his left knee from a battle wound a few years ago completely gone now.

Alfyn nodded slowly. “Now that you mention it, it does seem a little…off.” He frowned again. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, Castys, but I have more urgent patients to attend to, and I’m going to ask you to stay put until we can get this sorted out.”

“But the s-”

“Fine then, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Doctor’s orders supersede everything else, you know that. And the storm has almost passed. So stay. Put.”

Castys grumbled and crossed his arms, but he didn’t move to get up. He knew all too well that Alfyn wasn’t above restraining disobedient patients, and he’d rather avoid that today. Bored, he peeked at his chest again. It was very bloody, but there were no injuries anywhere, and poking his ribs didn’t hurt like a bitch, so they weren’t broken or anything. What was weird though was that he still had some scars, just not all of them. The twisted one on his tummy and the clean line over his heart were still there. He slapped a hand on his right cheek and tried very hard to smile, finding that, yup, he still couldn’t really do it on that side, so the remnant of the gash on his face was still there. But the one on his knee, on his arm, and apparently the ones on his back…gone. It didn’t make sense. Unless…

He put a hand over his heart. Every scar he still had now, he’d gotten before…before that day. The day he still didn’t want to believe had happened. Just as he was about to dig up that lovely little box of buried memories, Captain Izogie rushed in, worry etched in her face. 

“Alfyn, is it true Castys is-” she laid eyes on Castys and the tension visibly drained from her body. “Oh thank Mydnar.” She walked over and crouched down in front of where he was seated on the floor, eyeing him suspiciously. “What…what did Alfyn do to you? You look like a kid again.”

“Not my fault!” Alfyn called from where he was working on someone’s fucked-up arm.

“Uh, yeah, I, um,” Castys laughed nervously. “It’s my fault. I think. But I’m okay! All the breathing is happening fine.”

Izogie shook her head. “You’re not making any sense. Laias said a broken piece of the mizzen top yard poked a hole through your chest.”

“It did,” Alfyn said, wiping his hands as he walked over. “Both of his lungs were punctured. I worked as quickly as I could after I pulled it out, but…” he swallowed. “Your pulse was gone, Castys.”

“But I…I’m fine. I’m…” He swallowed. Everything was so cold all of a sudden, that was the only reason he’d be shaking like this, right? Had to be. Unsure if he even wanted to know the answer to this question, Castys lifted his shirt, poking at the scar on his stomach. “Alfyn…what if a person was…was stabbed right here. And the knife was dragged and twisted a bit before being pulled out. And then it went,” his finger was over his heart now, “right here. Would that person…would they die?”

Alfyn looked at Castys in slight horror before slowly nodding. “Without medical attention, in a matter of minutes. Possibly less depending on how much the stomach wound had bled and how much damage had been done.”

Every worry line in Izogie’s face stood out more than ever before. “Castys, you-what are you saying? Are those scars-”

“I think so.” Castys dropped his shirt. “At least, from what I can remember. So maybe I…I already died. Before this. All this time I just thought I might be remembering things wrong, but if what Alfyn said about earlier is true, then…and it might explain why I’m…different.”

“So you think you’re some kind of…” the furrow in Alfyn’s brow deepened, “immortal?”

Immortal. The thought was sort of exciting, as ridiculous as it seemed, but it was also sort of terrifying. Why the fuck was he one, anyway, if it was true? He was just Castys, a random pirate with incurable amnesia about his childhood and hadn’t done anything special besides the whole…maybe this was some kind of fucked-up reward for finishing his mission? But then where had-fuck, okay, no more of that, his brain hurt too much. Why think about things when he could get some results?

“Hey, Captain, could you stab me or something? I wanna see what happens.”

Izogie, who was still clearly trying to process whatever the hell was going on, gave him a very concerned look. “No, Castys, what-even if you think you’ll-you’ll come back what if-”

“Well, I should have died twice now. So I feel like I’ve already gotten a second chance if I was going to be dead anyway.” He glanced over at Alfyn. “Could you-”

“I’m a fucking doctor, Castys. My hands aren’t-I can’t. No.” The other pirates cursed pretty much every other word, but coming from Alfyn, that word might as well have been a cannon blast. Seeing that neither of his friends were willing to stab him for science, Castys dropped the idea and let them examine him for a bit before finally getting cleared to go back to his quarters. The crew gave him odd looks as he passed by, just hammering it in even more that he was different somehow. Either that or they’d heard he fucking died and was now walking around perfectly healthy, which was also probably cause for concern.

Once he was alone, he pulled out his sword and looked at his reflection in the blade. From what he could tell in this shitty makeshift mirror, his face did look a lot more youthful than he remembered. The scruff on his chin and his longer hair did make him look a bit older than the age he supposed his body was now, but the beard was itchy and long hair was a pain in the ass. Part of him wanted to hack his ponytail off right now with his knife, but he’d rather not look like a total mess on top of everything else, so he could wait to ask for a haircut tomorrow. He could shave, however, and he felt a lot better once it was done. 

Turning the razor over in his hands, Castys wondered if he really would come back to life again if he slit his throat or whatever. Well, only one way to find out. His clothes were already super bloody, anyway, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Here goes nothing, then.

Why were his hands shaking so much? It was just dying, he’d apparently done it before, it was fine, he’d come back, he wasn’t leaving anyone behind, just a quick swipe of the blade and then…then…he’d come back, right? Right. A-and if he didn’t, he’d already cheated death before, so it was only fair for things to end now. Deep breath maybe his last-

The blade moved a little more slowly than he would have liked, a flash of pain before-

Castys opened his eyes. He was still in his cabin, lying on the floor, razor still gripped in his hand, fresh blood warm and sticky on his neck. S-so then…he’d died. And come back. And wasn’t in any pain. 

Some sick fascination drove him to slice a deep gash in his arm before turning the blade on his neck again.

He woke up just as healthy as before, no cut in sight.

That settled it, then. Castys…he was immortal. A deep feeling of freedom unlike anything he’d ever known washed over him. He could do anything, go anywhere, not having to worry about wasting his time or being in danger, because fuck that he was immortal nothing would ever stop him again. 

Lying in a puddle of his own blood, Castys couldn’t help but laugh.

He got slapped and lectured the next day for testing things out on himself, sure, but it was nothing in the face of his infinite future. He could go on with everyone forever and e-

Kamon left. 

Alfyn died. 

Izogie retired.

And then, one day, Castys was standing on the deck of the ship, his ship, and he realized he didn’t recognize a single face looking back at him. Well, he recognized them, but he didn’t know them, didn’t remember any of them from his life before the years felt like minutes. There was a divide between them, and he wasn’t sure who put it there.

Immortality was…lonely. Isolating. 

Someone else like him had to be out there, right? So he’d look all over, chase down every lead, even an immortal monster or something would do, he just needed-

Castys felt as alone as he was all those years ago, trapped on that deserted island, the passage of time impossible to follow. 

But no matter what, he’d find that ship on the horizon. 

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds @whump-queen​ @whumpedydump @theelvishcowgirl​

[cosmoknightchaos]

(coughs conspicuously). um. 🌹. for Sky. This is for science purposes. ahem.

🌹(Rose): What does your oc find attractive in other people? Are these traits found in their friends and/or romantic partners? Are they found in themselves?

Purely for science, ey?

Okay first of all before I actually answer this question. Sky's stance on romance as a concept is something I've been trying to figure out since her creation. I don't know how this part of her brain works. It is truly a mystery (<-Aroace who doesn't understand romance in the slightest)

From a platonic standpoint, Sky's looking for people who are similar to her. She likes having friends who see the world the same way she does. For as kind and understanding as she is, Sky's a low-empathy person. She struggles to see things from anything but her perspective- a perspective based more in facts and logic than emotions- and so she automatically likes people who agree with her more. I also believe, because of that, Sky likes folks who are less emotionally conflicted. Which isn't to say she can't handle emotional situations I say as I nervously glance at Act 5 but they're not her favourite thing. She's a reasonable person and she likes reasonable people.

From a romantic standpoint, I cannot stress enough how the stars fucking aligned with Skaide.

Sky is, first of all, really weird when it comes to her romantic orientation. She's probably asexual/demiromantic/panromantic, but I don't know for sure. I know that she experiences both infatuation and romantic interest, very easily confuses the two, and doesn't know the difference between a romantic and a platonic relationship. Sky's in love with the idea of romance more than she is in love, and it makes for incredibly doomed yuri potential.

On the rare occasion she does catch genuine romantic feelings, her type is similar to her platonic type, with a few key differences. Since Sky has a fairly big "stage presence", she leans more towards less-noticeable people. Folks who don't make as grand of an entrance or don't speak quite as loud. Sky has a strong personality and having a more mellow partner evens it out a bit.

All of the words I know of to describe this next bit have negative connotations and that sucks because it's not what I want but I don't know what else to use. Sky likes folks who are opinionated and stubborn. Not in a loud way, but people who have their minds set. Who know what they want. Who aren't very conflicted. Or, who don't seem to be very conflicted. Folks who appear to have their issues under control. Even if said opinions don't fully align with Sky's, as long as they're not in direct opposition, she's willing to adapt her view to match which is a side effect of infatuation, where you want to change yourself to seem more appealing to your person of interest.

I'm going to be honest. I had a whole paragraph written here about how Sky's low-empathy view effects relationships that tied into the Skaide Breakup Arc and why Sky and Jaide are a doomed relationship and I reread it several times and you know what? It was very much out of character. Sky is, despite the low-empathy, very much capable of handling emotional situations and we see that on full display in Act 5. Sure, it's not her best skill, but she is willing to face that issue head-on and try her best to help. So I can confidently say that a lot of Sky's previous romantic experiences, especially the Skaide RP, were just a side effect of me not knowing how to characterize her yet.

But on that note, I still stand by my original comment from months ago that Skaide is a doomed yuri relationship. And I think that all boils down to the fact that, with Sky's low-empathy and experience in emotional conflict, she is a thousand times better at handling platonic experiences than romantic. She is good with having friends and dealing with those issues, but when it comes to romance, she has no fucking clue what to do. It is an unexplored part of her life, and in an attempt to make sense of it, she will always default to treating it like another friendship, regardless of how much she loves the other person. Skaide was doomed from the start because Sky has such a different view on what a romantic relationship is than Jaide does and those views probably aren't going to align. Ever. Skaide is always going to end in them remaining friends because that's the type of relationship Sky is comfortable having.

Now, is there a chance that, somewhere down the line, Sky realizes she loves Jaide enough to try and change that view? Hell yeah. But that's going to come after a lot of conflict and struggle and uncomfortableness. Because, in order for them to become a romantic relationship, Sky has to do the one thing she cannot stand and ignore her logic, ignore the reasoning she always fell back on, and use her emotions to change as a person. And then maybe there's a chance things will work out.

I'd like to finish this off by saying Sky is still in the development stage as a character. I have no idea if any of this will still be true in a couple months' time- Act 5 is Sky's act and I fully believe she's not going to escape development hell until it is finished. But I do know that this is where her character stands right now, and I have a good feeling that it won't change too much over the next few months.

[honeydots]

One of my favorite things about Xander is the way he just keeps adopting people. Xander tries to be stand offish but then he sees someone a bit childish and immediately adopts them. Besides his own siblings, he also picks up Peri, Laslow (in the beginning of their relationship), Veronica in Heroes, and Takumi in Warriors.

If you haven't seen the Takumi and Xander support in Warriors, definitely look it up. It is really interesting to see how Takumi responds to Xander's approach to getting him to not over train himself versus Ryoma's approach to getting him to not over train himself.

HE'S A BIG BROTHER AT HEART!!! and in every other way ghdjfsjb i think abt how he just started hanging out with veronica in heroes all the time. and that support with takumi was sweet!!! of course it was about training, these dopes. something i rly like abt xander is how readily he'll talk abt his failures sometimes--in a way that he recognizes they helped pave the path leading to where he is now. and relaying those failures to others to try and help (in this case, to takumi) is just. SO big brother of him. ;w; onii-san!!!!

[gwensy]

Top 5 cartoon adaptations of comic book characters

can i be honest with you. i really dont watch cartoons i dont think i can do this

[olympiansally]

Horrifying that I spent months trying to force myself to write a fic I wasn’t super into only to give up in a fit of desperation and immediately bang out a full fleshed self indulgent au. I will learn absolutely nothing from this btw

[chronosbled]

{ I think this border is pretty nice to be honest, and I like the way it makes my icons look as well. }

[gensymscribes]

grumbling and kicking rocks down the road as i continue sulking about rasputin

[bugsinshoes]

here !!! have some angst-filled laurie doodles. for the soul !!

(more under the cut !! i just dont wanna clog anyones dashes lmao)

OKAY SOOOO these two here are concepts i had for the laurie mindscape thingy !!!

dipper, mabel and ford enter laurie's mindscape (FOR SOME REASON IDK YET) and they explore a bit. ford ends up walking deep into her subconscious, entering her repressed memories. he finds a picture frame that catches his eye and that he feels weirdly compelled to, and enters the memory, only to find laurie on her bathroom floor, shaking, crying, with blood dripping out of her right eye. ford is extremely concerned and he's all: "... laurie?" but laurie SHOOTS UP and instantly PANICS !! shes extremely confused and afraid, as she's got no idea whats going on. she tries to get AWAY from ford, but the bathtub is behind her so she can't MOVE, and so she tries to stand up and grips the shower curtain for support, but the force she was pulling at dismantles the pole from the wall and the shower curtain comes CRASHING DOWN and that scares her even MORE and its all too overwhelming and all she can do is just sit on the floor, staring with wide, petrified eyes at ford, her breath coming out in short gasps.

the worst part is she THINKS ford is trying to hurt her because she doesn't realize this is a MEMORY and shes so paranoid and afraid I CANNNTTTT

also laurie had more frequent nightmares after weirdmageddon. she was finally healing after 27 years, but the apocalypse rolls around and it completely DESTROYS all her progress. she tries to calm down by telling herself that bill is gone and that hes dead and that he cant hurt her anymore. alsooo shes got more experience with handling nightmares and stuff now, so that does really help

this is based on the lyrics from the song "shakin' all over" by the guess who !!! (theyre a great canadian band i thought fit laurie well !)

AAANNND a mini comic idea thingy !! this is when lau and jossy are still together and jocelyn is mega concerned for her gf because she isnt acting like herself anymore and things are different and i just dkjfhsjfhurih

my girl is Going Through It :(

[devotedlystrangewizard]

my dad playing bg3 for the combat vs me, spending all my time waiting for the ps5 release on creating elaborate character lore

[flokali]

♢ I love you, I own you | Tartaglia

warnings: yandere, dub-con, penetration, coming inside, unprotected, undertones of misogyny, toxic parents, manipulation and gaslighting, obsessive, paranoid, and possessive behavior, toxic mindset, coerced submission, getting walked into, bribing, murder, torture, self-doubt and insecurities (mc), arranged marriage, implied financial insecurity, implied virginity (mc & childe), spoilers for tartaglia’s story/lore, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unreliable narration (at times). ask to tag.

pairing: afab! fem! reader (bottom) x childe (top)

word count: 13.3k

a/n: ahhh; hopefully this is good >_< i love him so much… after almost a year, ‘tis done ^_^

part two: here

— 18+

Childe is horrified and incredibly angered, if not down right homicidal, when he finds out your parents planned to have you engaged to a no-name Fatui henchman, it’s only a further blow to his already weakened heart when the news don’t come from you nor your family but from the loud mouths of your “soon to be fiancé” and his goons. His blue eyes widen and he feels himself grow lightheaded, his stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out and, oh Celestia, he thinks he’s going to puke.

While perhaps not the most befitting behavior for a Harbinger, Ajax couldn’t help but eavesdrop when he had first heard the mention of your name and while he’s extremely glad he did, - he’s silently thanking the Tsaritsa for telling him now so he could do something - he almost wishes he didn’t as he’s now forced to go back to his office and wordlessly deal with the intrusive thoughts racing through his head.

All he can think about are the countless pinky promises you’d both made to each other during your childhood, the coos of both of your parents when they had first heard him declare his love for you, the feeling of your hands against his when you kissed his cheek goodbye before the fateful day he stumbled down the abyss, the way you and only you were the sole thing keeping him together during his time there, the way you sobbed in relief when he first approached you after emerging victorious from hell itself; did those moments mean nothing? Had only he been impacted by them? Had you forgotten his love for you - your love for him?

No, he thought as he marched to his desk, there’s no way - you had to have felt it too, you must have kept those memories deep in your heart as did he. You both were meant to be, childhood sweethearts, one soul in two different bodies, created from the same stars and carved out from the same earth, put into the same world to meet and love each other from your first life to the last. You were his and he was yours, you were one and the same, you were lovers - it was written in the stars and in his very flesh, it was a fact as true as his love for you.

His breathing is ragged and he can’t contain his shaking body, he never should have trusted your parents - they obviously didn’t have your best interest in mind, if they cared about you at all they would have never promised your hand to another, they would’ve realized he, Childe, Tartaglia, Ajax, he was the best man for you.

Granted, they hadn’t heard from good little Ajax for years, not ever since he’d left for the Fatui - he only ever kept consistent correspondence with you and his family - but that’s no excuse, there was no excuse for their actions, they were disgusting pests that were blinded by greed. How much money had they taken to accept such a disgusting agreement? 500,000 Mora? No, that was too cheap… 1,000,000? 2,000,000? More? Maybe it was in the tens of millions, there was no way you were being given away for less, right?

“Ahhh,” the ginger sank in his chair, his trembling hands finding his hair and pulling at the soft strands in frustration, “what do I do now? What should I do? What should I do? Shit… this can’t be happening.”

He wanted to cry and destroy everything. Destroy that man, no… that poor, pathetic excuse of a man that had dared try and stake his claim on you. This wasn’t your fault, there was no way you knew – never once in your letters had you mentioned a lover nor a wedding, you would have told him - would have begged for him to save you - if you did know you must have cried and begged for them to not marry you to that bastard, sobbed as you muttered his - Ajax’s - name like a mantra, begging to be taken by him and finally wed to the true love of your life.

It felt like the world was falling and crushing him alive.

How could they do this to you? How dare they do this to you? To him, to you, to the both of you.

He could just have the man killed, sent on a suicide mission disguised as an essential step for gnosis hunting - maybe even under the pretense of a promotion, he was sure he’d accept anything, he was a no name soldier that would probably be forgotten by the next round of recruitment -, and make your parents go bankrupt, burn their house and have their businesses fail before delivering the final blow of jailing them due to fraud or maybe even executed under claims of treason; the thoughts calmed his rapid heart, if only slightly.

They needed to be taught a lesson, they shouldn’t put their dirty, greedy hands where they didn’t belong.

But no, that’d be too light of a punishment, and there would be so many loose threads - he’d rather be on good terms with your family - if only for you -, could it maybe be a misunderstanding? It could be, right? They were like family to him once, after all, and a part of him hates the idea of them having grown so vile and corrupted, they were supposed to be his in-laws and he’d rather his children have both sets of grandparents. Not to mention, you’d be so sad to see them gone, even if there was a chance they were worth nothing more than dirt.

No, that wouldn’t do, his wife couldn’t be sad - he’d confront them as soon as physically possible, question their actions and propose a better arrangement, and depending on their answer they would become the Fatui’s latest show of loyalty to the Tsaritsa or officially join the perfect future he’d dreamed of with you.

Yes, that’s what he’d do, his shaking heart finally comes to a rest as he begins to plan his trip. If things went south he could easily have his initial plan executed quickly, and while he doesn’t particularly like the idea of having to plan their execution arrangements, justice wasn’t always pleasant.

It’d be alright, surely all of this could be resolved through a mature, adult conversation. And if not, then Childe wasn’t a Harbinger for naught.

It takes him a few days until he’s able to find the time to meet up with your parents, though, honestly, it’s more like barging into your home unannounced and demanding answers. He has a job - a serious job, after all, one that demands his presence and takes true effort and work, unlike that shitty excuse of meat your parents wanted you to marry - and he had matters to attend to – after all forging evidence for a possible execution isn’t easy and he wants to be prepared, it was one of the few times where he wanted to come in with a proper battle plan.

He had it all planned out if things went south, a few reports here, some testimonies there, a lengthy transcript or two, a handful of bank reports, and soon your parents would look like traitors to the crown and be sentenced to public execution.

All he had to do was confront them in person. He wasn’t sure if your parents would be home, he hoped so as to not prolong such a troublesome process any longer, but he was willing to wait. He was getting his answers today, one way or another; he’d free you from this horrid arrangement and whisk you away to give you the life you truly deserved.

Luckily for him, you live in the same neighborhood as you always had, so no time had to be wasted searching for your family’s whereabouts. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to come back to his childhood neighborhood and he can’t help the giddiness in his heart as he strolls through memory lane while making his way down the streets you two shared a childhood in, it looked almost the same - a few differences here and there like a new house or someone’s place having been renovated, but it felt just like home. His parents had long since moved houses into a fancier side of the city, the money Childe managed to bring home as a Harbinger long since allowing them the luxuries that had once felt impossible, but he almost wishes they hadn’t as he spots your family’s humble abode, his heart longing back to the days of your shared youth.

It’s a two story house, built with strong wood made to resist Snezhnaya’s harshest winters and the cold summers, the roof was made of strong wood and designed so that snow would fall as to not sink, the front yard still held the swing you’d begged your parents for on your tenth birthday, the mailbox was still slightly crooked from the time he had head-butted it when racing you back from the park, the flowerbed still held the same flowers and plants that were able to withstand Snezhnaya’s harsh weather, the tree somehow still seemed to harbor the countless balls you two had gotten stuck there back when you were in your preteens; it was like it had been frozen in time, the only true difference he could spot was your older figure sitting on the front steps looking as if you were waiting for something, maybe someone; maybe him.

His heart stops as do his steps, he’d been so busy the last couple of years he hadn’t been able to pay you a visit in person, he’d had a few soldiers patrol the area before, but nothing could prepare Ajax for the surge of emotions that coursed through his body as he laid eyes on you.

Your body was taller and you had grown into your features, but you were still you - your eyes still shined with the hope and love he’d long since lost while your lips were still as tempting as he remembered. There was no doubt it was you, he’d recognize you anywhere; no matter how much you changed. But you looked sad, your lips downcast, your eyes filled with tears, and your frame hunched over, it was clear you were cold by the shaking of your frame but you didn’t falter - still sitting down with a flimsy blanket wrapped around you as you waited.

The scene made him pick up his pace, he was desperate to reach your side; what had happened? Why did you look so sad? Were you hurt? His men had not informed him of anything happening that would explain the crystal like tears that pooled in your eyes, just the sight was enough to have his blood boiling and fists shaking as he wondered who was responsible for the pain you so openly displayed.

Have you found out about Andrei and your parents’ sins? The thought of them being the reason for your sorrow made him grow dizzy with rage, but the negative feelings can only last so long as he has you in his sights. Your mere presence seemed to lull his emotional heart into a more tranquil state.

“[Y/N]?” Childe asked, he was only a few feet away from you but he didn’t dare walk closer, “Is that you?”

“A-Ajax?” Your eyes widened, hope evident in your voice and it’s like all traces of the previous pain in your face had vanished, “Oh, Ajax!”

You hesitate for a second before breaking into a smile when you realize it really was him. It almost looks like you want to burst into tears and he’s sure he probably doesn’t look any better, seeing you in the flesh after so long felt like a dream and as if every moment without you until now had been but a nightmare, he can’t help himself from running towards you and throwing himself into your arms. He looks older, definitely more mature, his is build stronger now - probably due to the fighting and training he endured as a Harbinger, you thought - but his smile was still the same, perhaps a bit empty but it still filled your heart with a warmth that could battle Snezhnaya’s unforgiving cold. It felt right to have him back in your arms as if time had never been cruel and taken him away from you, you could have sweared your worries disappeared the moment you took in his warmth.

His white coat floats through the air as he lands between your arms, and you can feel his smile in your chest as he hugs you tight.

He was finally home, he thought, in your arms and back in the neighborhood that had raised him - he was with you and that was all that mattered, the man was filled with so much ecstasy he could almost forget why he’d come here.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, your voice is shaky and the ginger feels himself melt at the familiar tone of your voice.

“I should be asking you that,” he laughs, his eyebrows becoming furrowed in concern as he speaks, “it’s freezing, darling, you shouldn’t be outside.”

“I… I was waiting for one of your letters,” you whisper shyly, during your time away from each other - weekly letters had been your primary source of communication, something you’d learn to love and cherish as one of the few forms of contact you and Childe could have without your parents knowing his dangerous job and position.

“You’re so cute,” he coos, he feels a weight lift off his shoulders as he realizes you were safe, if anything he feels ashamed he hadn’t been able to send you anything and caused you such pain, his heart aches as he tries to wrap around his head he may have hurt your feelings, his gloved fingers find your cheek and squeezes it tightly, “however, it’s too cold for you to be outside with just a blanket, my love.”

“I know,” you shake your head, you go to lift a hand to wipe the stray tears that had escaped you but Childe takes care of it for you as he delicately caressed your face, “it’s just, I hadn’t heard from you in almost two weeks and I got worried, I thought… maybe something had happened in Liyue and you’d gotten hurt.”

“O-oh… I’m sorry,” his deep blue eyes look downcast as he processes your words, “I never meant to worry you, I had so much to do and to say that instead of a letter I decided to come meet you in person, i-isn’t that better, love? I simply couldn’t be away from you any longer, it’s my fault, though, I should have told you so earlier, ahh… I can’t believe I’ve made my angel cry.”

A poor soldier would have their head cut off tonight, he thought, for he was certain he’d sent a bag full of letters meant to last you at least a full season to be delivered everyday to you while he arranged for this mess to be solved.

You nod as stars fill your eyes before shaking your head as if assuring him you were alright. You loved Ajax and you had loved him for almost all your life, from the moment you met him you’d been charmed by his boyish good looks and charisma, of course a few things had changed, but he was still your sweet Ajax, the boy who’d stolen your heart and kept it safely within his arms for as long as you’ve known him.

“Come on,” you signal him to stand up with a soft pat and the man has to stop himself from begging for more of your touch, “let’s go inside, you must be tired and we have so much to talk about.” He nods and lets himself be pulled up by you as you giggle and smile about finally being able to talk face to face after years of not being able to physically see each other.

You feel like a teenager again as you lead Ajax into your house, your heart beating like you were confessing your love for the first time - the excitement was practically the same, your head felt fuzzy from the warm feeling holding Childe’s hand gave you; you had missed him terribly. You feel like you were about to explode into a million piece from excitement, your head filled with everything you’ve ever wanted to say to Ajax’s face ever since he left, all the news that felt too important to simply write out and that had you hoping a day like this would finally come, you’re scared of coming off too intensely but your heart truly feels like it’ll burst from joy, unfortunately your excitement comes to an abrupt end when you finally drag him into your living room. You turn around to offer him a drink or something to eat, the trip from the capital all the way over here was a couple hours long and he’d always had quite an appetite, but you’re faced with a look of disappointment and slight anger as he looks around the room, your heart sinks - just seconds ago he was all smiles and laughter as you two embraced each other in the harsh winter, having created a warm paradise between each other, but now he looked as if he couldn’t stand to be in your house and you wonder if maybe you’d angered him somehow even though you logically knew you’d done nothing other than invite him inside.

Maybe you were overreacting, you think, you’d been quite paranoid as of recently, your family had been distant and you’d been feeling lonely and anxious for a while. It’d been an embarrassingly long time since you’d had guests over, at least, guests that mattered to you and hadn’t been your parents’ friends or siblings spouses. The look in Ajax’s face makes your stomach churn; had something happened?

“Are your parents home?” He asks, his voice tinged in a mixture of distaste and sadness, it’s lower than when he’d spoken to you earlier and you wonder what could have happened to create such a drastic change in his behavior. If you took the time to notice you’d see how his eyes glare at the family portrait; the two traitors clear as day as they embraced their children, Childe couldn’t help but see them in a new, more negative and hateful light.

Not after two weeks of research, not when he was now certain they wanted to get in his way.

“No, they said they weren’t coming home until later tonight, but if you want to stay till then I’m sure they'd love to see you again,” you try to reassure him thinking he was perhaps saddened at not being able to see your parents, it’d make sense since, unlike you two, they hadn’t been able to keep in touch since the young man’s career in the Fatui began.

“I… I don’t think I want to meet them, no,” Ajax shakes his head, his hair bouncing as he makes his way to your sofa, his legs tremble slightly – cowards, he thinks, not even able to show their faces, “I actually came here to talk to them but, ha… now that I’m here I’m not too sure.”

“Hmm, how so?” You ask, your heart - which was already quite nervous at his sudden change of mood - sinks further, a sudden uneasiness fills your lungs.

He’d come here in hopes of finding you parents and confronting them with his findings, he would have offered them a chance to redeem themselves and cancel the wedding without you even finding out about the secret dealings they’d been making in your name, but they were not here, you were. Maybe, he could change his battle plan, if he couldn’t talk to your parents… why not simply talk to you? If he’d offered a higher sum and never asked you himself, he’d be no better than that lowlife and your parents, not that you’d reject him - but the thought of steeping as low as they did made him sick.

“What are your thoughts about marriage?” The question is so sudden and unrelated to the previous topic you instinctively frown.

“Marriage,” you sit down opposite of him, it feels like you’re in a job interview as he questions you, “I mean, I’ve thought about it but I’m not sure I want to get married, at least not now, I’m not too sure I’d want to give it all up; I mean, I have a job and friends, there’s so much to do, so much I want to do… and I can’t say I’d be able to do it all if I was married. I’d like to travel and, I… I don’t know, learn more I guess, I feel like if I settle down it'll be once I’m more, you know, confident or mature?”

You trail off awkwardly, it was true - the only times you’d ever seriously thought about marriage often included you being significantly older and, most of the time, with an already retired Ajax — though you wouldn’t admit that to his face unless you were certain he felt the same. You’d rather keep that last part hidden, if not for fear of making him uncomfortable, for the sake of your heart and fear of being brushed aside. Your parents had made it quite clear; you were no marriage-material, you’d be lucky if you even manage to get a partner at this rate, and you doubted a man as accomplished as Tartaglia, Ajax, the 11th Harbinger, would settle for a average, clumsy, pessimistic small town girl such as yourself.

He stays quiet as if a million thoughts were racing around his head; that wasn’t the answer he particularly wanted, he’d rather hear you’d been fantasizing of marrying him, hear you ramble on and on about how you’d been waiting for him and were just about ready to go down the aisle with him and promise yourself to one another but he was glad you weren’t against the idea of marriage, even if he wished you’d been more open about doing it sooner rather than later; but that would change, he was sure of it.

“And, uh, what about you?” You ask, the air felt heavy and you desperately wanted to ease the tension, only one thought was really running through your head that you were too afraid to ask; “What was going on with Ajax?”

“Me?” The question snaps him out of whatever mental trance he’d caught himself in, “Well, I want to get married, the sooner the better, I want to have a family, but it’s gotta be with the person I love the most in this world, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine living without them.”

Neither the words themselves nor the sentiment are crazy, even if you’d only just gotten to know him, it was obvious Ajax wanted a loving family to call his own and it was a pretty common desire for many, it more so was the way his eyes seemed to bore into your own as he spoke, as if he were trying to let you know it was you who he was talking about. You flustered at the thought, it was perhaps selfish to think it was you he was talking about but the thought pleased you nonetheless even if your parents’ words echoed in your mind.

“That’s, ah,” you mumble, breaking eye contact and looking elsewhere, trying to calm your beating heart, you should stop being so silly - he was here to talk with your parents, not you, both of you meeting was mere coincidence, nothing else, “really nice, I hope you find them soon..”

“You do?” He smiles, seemingly pleased with your words, but it’s significantly weaker than usual.

There’s an awkward silence as you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he’d come here to propose. You know it sounds crazy and incredibly sudden but the mention of marriage and wanting to talk to your folk, the fact he’d made the time in his incredibly busy schedule and travels to come over to your house, it made it sound like he had ulterior motives for coming here and just the thought of them had you flustered. You may have just said you wanted to hold off on marriage, that you doubted someone like him would even think of being your partner, but you felt certain that if Ajax asked for your hand you would agree with no hesitation – out of a pitiful mix of love and desperation.

You’re unsure of what to do and are about to speak up, willing to say almost anything to move the conversation forward and away from the topic, but he beats you to it and breaks the silence first.

“Listen, dove… I-I love your parents and I wouldn’t accuse them of something like this if I didn’t have evidence, okay?” He lies through his teeth, after finding out the way they were so willing to get in between you two he could barely stand the thought of them now, but he’s lucky the rest of the words come easy, “I really didn’t want to believe this either, but I have many a reason to suspect they may be trying marrying you off soon to a stranger.”

“W-What?” You breathe out, you struggle to process his words, it’s as if they’d bounced off your brain and floated off elsewhere, “M-marrying me off? What’s - what do you mean?”

No, no, no way.

You feel yourself grow tense and light headed.

What sort of messed up prank was this? There was no way… right?

“It seems they found a member of the Fatui,” he shakes his head, “a guy named Andrei Galkin, and they’re planning to marry you off to him, so I decided to ask around - it seems like it’s been a topic for a while now, money may be involved too, the reason I came here was to… have a talk with your parents, see if I could change their mind.”

“D-do you even have proof?” You ask with a shivering voice, heat rushes to your cheeks as you begin to feel hot in embarrassment and anger; your parents were meaning to sell you off to some man? This had to be a joke Childe was playing, you’d known he’d become a bit off after the Abyss incident and you knew his time as a Harbinger probably messed him up, but this wasn’t funny. It was disgusting, the mere prospect has you trembling as you try and grasp what on earth was happening. However, the more you look at him, you wonder if this is a joke at all. You studied him and his expression, desperately trying to see anything on his face that’d indicate this was a sick prank from his part, a cheeky smile or maybe lack of eye contact - anything would do, you felt yourself begin to hyperventilate as you realized how absurd it’d be for him to come all the way to a village hours away from the main city to play such a horrible joke on you, one he must have known would cause you pain and anguish — you doubted he’d want to see you like this, at least you hoped he wouldn’t want to see you like this.

Oh, the realization makes you grow lightheaded, he was probably telling the truth.

“There’s correspondence between them and his family, there’s also a wedding venue booked under their names,” Ajax mumbled, his voice a mere whisper against the sound of your beating heart, he pulls a few files from his coat and hands them to you - your last name is printed on the cover and you quickly open them and browse through the pages, your heart sinks, “I also found money transactions between your family and the Galkin family, about… I’m sorry but I can’t —“

“How much, Ajax?” You feel stiff and your hands start shaking making it hard for you to continue flipping through the countless reports, photographs, records, bank transactions, and letters, your blood feels terribly cold as you try to calm down the whirlwind of feelings that coursed through your body, but you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down, not when your family, your parents of all people, have seemed to been able to calmly put a price on not only your love but your person as well.

“About 900,000 Mora,” he mutters, cold blue eyes avoiding your gaze as he continues, “to Uncle and Auntie from Andrei’s family.”

“900,000 Mora…” You feel your heart shatter as Childe brings a comforting hand towards your shoulders, his calloused fingers massaging your tense muscles, “You’re… you’re serious, aren’t you?”

“I’d never lie about such a thing,” he approaches you slowly, Ajax continues speaking as he envelops you with a hug soon after removing the papers from your trembling hands,“this pains me as much as it pains you.”

All of this was true, it’d taken him a long time to gather it all, but the reality was simple and cruel;

your parents had begun arranging for your marriage to an older Fatui soldier for after his retirement.

“Why… why would they do this?” You mutter, feeling sorrow slowly fill your lungs up - making it harder to breathe comfortably, “H-how could they? How could they? Why… Ajax, w-why?”

You felt like an idiot, just minutes ago you’d naively thought you may be getting proposed to by your childhood lover, a childish and hopelessly romantic thought, but now you’re sitting in your living room, on the verge of a breakdown as you tried to think of why on earth your parents would be willing to accept such an offer on your behalf, why they’d use you - their daughter - for Mora.

“Shhh, it’s okay, let it out,” he brings your head into his shoulder, caressing your back in a soothing manner, “it must feel horrible, I’m sure.”

And so you sit there, sobbing into your old friend as you try and process the information presented in front of you. It takes you a good couple of minutes to calm down, by then you two have once again sat down on the couch.

“What am I going to do?” You bury your face into your hands, your body shook as you thought about having to confront your parents once they arrived now with the knowledge you had.

It takes Ajax a couple of seconds before he speaks up, he needed to make it seem like he hadn’t been thinking of this from the moment he’d gotten his hands on the evidence himself; “I have an idea but...”

Your head shoots up in record speed, you could practically feel your neck crack from the sudden move but you didn’t care, you were desperate for a solution - no matter how good or bad it may be; “Oh come on, just spit it out, nothing could be worse than this.”

“Marry me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches; “M-Marry you?”

He nods, sapphire eyes staring you down like a hunter would prey - you didn’t like the way he was looking at you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He echos, you can see him stifle a laugh, “Because it’s either that or marrying some lowlife named Andrei who paid to wed you.”

You feel your body stiffen at the harsh words, they were true but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear. You avoid looking him in the eyes, your hands anxiously twiddle each other.

“… and what if you’re wrong?”

“What?” He asks as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said.

“What if my parents aren’t marrying me off…”

“Darling,” Ajax laughs but his eyes didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, “are you doubting me? I gave you evidence, it’s right there.”

“Not necessarily,” you look away, you couldn’t help but wonder why you needed to explain yourself, “but, come on, I can’t accept this, it’s too sudden and mom and dad, t-they’d never do this to me, right? I’m their daughter, you know? They love me, they said they did and you don’t do this if you love someone, right?. So… so w-what if you’re wrong?”

“Wrong? There’s no other interpretation that makes sense of what we’ve both seen. Why would I lie to you about this? Come on, love, look at me, do I look like I’m enjoying this?” He questions you, “Look at me, come on, listen to me, if it were up to me,” he grabs your chin when you refuse to meet his gaze, his dark blue eyes stare deeply into your soul; they don’t shine the way the once used to, “I would have asked them for their blessing and proposed to you in the plaza, I would have had a ring ordered from Liyue costume made for you, I’d organize for their to be flowers of every color imaginable, even arrange food and music too, there would be hundreds onlookers who’d die to experience a fraction of the joy we would be feeling, I would have invited my family and yours, I’d have you wearing a custom dress, you’d be the happiest woman in Teyvat if I’d have my way… but look where we are instead, can’t you see? This isn’t what I wanted for us, this isn’t what I wanted for you, but we still have time, we can still fix it. But before that first, you have to believe me and get it through your head; this is who they are, this is what they’ve done, your parents don’t love you any more.”

“…” You can only look at him in shock as you feel tears swell in your eyes because it was not far fetched to say that the last few months your family had been distant, that they’d begun to act strange, and that you’d been short on cash for Tsaritsa knows how long, it hurt because a part of you felt like this was plausible. Because it was true, you were the youngest and that you didn’t exactly pull your weight the same way your siblings did, it was true you’d been more of a casualty in your family’s life but that didn’t mean they’d sell you off. No, they had treated you with love and kindness, they’d been there for every big step in your life, they loved you… right? They’d never do this to you, they would never accept Mora in exchange for your hand in marriage. They would never trade their love for you for some Money… right?

Maybe their love was ensuring you had a better future, one where your lover took care of you even if you didn’t exactly choose them, it was true your love life had been awfully stale, that the only person you’d ever been interested in who had also liked you back was in the army, and that you were never quite able to secure a full time job, it was always part-time and you were always booked the least compared to your coworkers. It was true you didn’t have many friends, most of the people your age had moved away by now, you were the only one of your siblings who wasn’t married or dating someone, out of all of your siblings you were the only one who seemed to remain the same no matter how many years passed. Maybe it was exactly what this was, a misunderstood, misplaced, and ill-fitting way of showing their love; but maybe you hated the thought this was their way of expressing it more than you were moved they’d tried at all.

“Shhh, my love,” you didn’t quite catch when Ajax had started wiping your tears away nor when he had managed to get so close, but at that moment – the moment where your whole life felt so uncertain and shaken – you were willing to ignore it all, “it’s okay, I know what you’re thinking… My offer still stands, you can still marry me.”

“And then what?” You sobbed, holding his gloved hands tightly against your cheek, “What am I going to do after that?”

“You’ll move in with me,” he responds matter of factly yet his tone is still soft, as if he feared speaking too loudly would scare you away, “and we’ll tell them together and you’ll make your bags and we’ll be on our way away from all of this mess. Please listen to me, sweetheart, as of right now, I’m the only choice for you – it won’t be bad at all, it’ll be lovely in fact, don’t you want that?”

“…”

“Please, please trust me, I only want what’s best for you,” he continues, ignoring your silence and instead continuing to caress your skin, “I’ve worked with Andrei, he’s no good, he’s older and cranky, he’s always in a bad mood, he won’t satisfy you, and I don’t want you to be miserable, I mean look at you, is this what you want? Hear me out and put trust in me, you won’t regret it; I’ll get you out of this, I promise.”

“But…”

“I love you and I know you love me,” he whispered, drawing closer to you, his voice low as he slowly leans into your lips, he stops right before they can touch his own, “and I’m sure you’ll grow to love this too.”

There’s a silence as you let your options cross your head, you feel yourself grow overwhelmed, being struck with grief and regret in such strong waves you have no choice but to simply give in to the only secure stone you currently see in the storm that was brewing in your mind.

He loved you, he said so himself, and he’d protect you, he’d promised. You could trust him, you had to trust him; you had no one else.

“I’ll… I’ll marry you.”

“That’s my girl.” He boasts, his face – which is now close enough for you to smell the mint in his breath – breaks into a smile before he’s leaning into your face to kiss you; You reciprocate the action and close your eyes, secretly hoping that today was but a nightmare.

You feel his gloved hands wander around your body, the leather-like material is smooth as his skilled digits play around. There’s barely any time to breathe as he continues kissing you until you grow dizzy from the lack of oxygen entering your lungs.

You had always liked Ajax, always dreamed of marrying him, but as your dreams were coming true you couldn’t help but feel suffocated by the circumstances that brought it up.

“Darling,” he moans, as he finally parts himself from your abused lips, “you’re not kissing back, don’t tell me you –“

“Ajax,” you interrupt, your voice barely above a whisper as you desperately try to dive into his eyes, seeking an answer, “why are you doing this?”

The question spoke for itself, no further clarification was needed; why had he come? Why had he revealed your parents’ plans? Was it even as awful as he made it seem? Why did he care? Why now? Did he really want to marry you or did he just feel responsible for you? Why did he bring himself into this mess? Why you, why him, why, why, why, why? Simply; why?

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you’d heard, you still struggled to grasp the idea that your parents would even think of giving your hand away for Mora, and yet the intensity in his voice, the anger in his tone as he relayed the information he’d gathered could have convinced anyone, you doubted he’d lie about something as severe. If this was the truth, it’d been revealed to you too quickly, you’d been expected to get over it too soon, one moment you find out your parents were getting rid of you and your trust in the most materialistic of ways and the next you’ve been proposed to by a man you hadn’t seen in person for over half a decade. You can’t help but wonder if you said yes because you loved him or because you were desperate, for what - you didn’t know.

“Because I love you,” he speaks, his dull eyes finding yours and you wonder if they’d always lacked light, “I love you… and I’m not letting anyone get in my- our way.”

In his head, this was the only way to have you, this was the only way to love you, he was going to save you.

He doesn’t stop to wait for your response before he’s picked you up with ease, years of training and hard work evident by how nonchalantly he walks around your house and goes up the stairs, ignoring all the other rooms and picking up the pace the closer you got to the destination; you were going to your bedroom, you realize, the one you’d been occupying since you were a child. You never thought your house to be small but the speed in which he was walking made you aware of how short the distance between your bedroom and living room was.

“Ajax, what are you doing?” You whimper, you hold on tightly to the ginger, you’re so close you can smell his cologne, afraid he’d let you do if you let up even for a second.

“I’ll show you,” he continued down the hall, there’s an edge to his voice that gives you a chill, he sounded almost angry but with whom you did not know, “I’ll show you why I’m doing this.”

You two finally make your way to your bedroom where he kicks the door open and plops you, quite unceremoniously, down onto the mattress. He kicks off his shoes and wiggles his heavy coat off before climbing the bed with you, he tugs you around until you’re below him.

“You’re doing all of this too fast, calm down,” you argue, pain and sorrow still evident in your voice and it hurts his soul to hear it, “you don’t have to prove me anything, I…”

“Everything I’ve said is true, love,” the red-head insists, “and I’m doing this equally for me as I’m doing it for you.”

You don’t respond, instead you opt to look away; his gaze was becoming too intense and it was making you feel funny in ways you hadn’t felt before.

“Look at me,” his hands find your jaw and he redirects your gaze forcefully, “you’ve already said yes, unless… don’t tell me you,” his eyes darken as they narrowed, an almost animalistic look took over his features, “you lied and you don’t want to marry me.”

“I… I do, I’ve always wanted to, but,” It’s embarrassing to admit but you do so anyway in fear of creating a misunderstanding between the two of you, everything was going so fast you were struggling to keep up, “but… is this really how you want to do it?”

You were certain you could take things slower, maybe wait for your parents to come home and talk to them, you didn’t understand why he was in such a hurry, was this healthy? Was this okay?

“Yes,” it seems like he can sense your hesitation so he continues, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” His words held so much certainty you almost feel stupid for even questioning him, he drew near your lips once more before engulfing your mouth in a kiss, this time with much more vigor than before.

His teeth nip at your lips, begging for entry and you shyly grant it, slowly parting your mouth open. It’s all so messy as you feel his tongue enter your mouth, the muscle seemingly had a life of its own as it mapped your mouth, teeth clashed against each other as if he were desperate to dominate you.

His hands find your waist and insists on pushing you further into the bed, molding your body into the mattress, as he rubs your sides with slow, sensual movements that light your body ablaze. The contrast between the continuous attacks on your lips and the soft stroking of your body left you dizzy, he handled you as if you were made of porcelain and yet ravaged you like a beast when granted access.

You unknowingly whine as your lips finally part, taking a deep breath of air in the process, a thin strip of saliva connected you both, a lewd indicator of the passion Ajax wished to imprint on you. You’re both panting, clearly riled up from the heated kiss, but the man on top of you insisted on letting his hands work their way through you. Your eyes trail downwards where his gloved digits traced the shape of your body, the way they glide across your curves and dips was hypnotizing, and you miss the way a smirk overtakes his features as he realizes how tightly he’s got you wrapped around those very same fingers.

You feel his breath before you hear his words; “Can I take this off?”

His voice is barely above a whisper yet his question rings around the room like a scream, you feel yourself grow hot under your clothes; the same ones he’d just asked to remove off of you.

You’re too embarrassed to answer him, still slightly hesitant to continue going, you can feel your cheeks heat up into a burning mess and you’re scared that if you speak you’ll make a fool of yourself, so instead you nod slowly, trying to calm your racing mind, moving your eyes elsewhere in hopes you wouldn’t have to see the smug look his face was sure to take.

However, he’s quick to catch your face and redirect your gaze back to himself; “Thank you.”

You let him pick you from the bed to fiddle with the claps on the back of your dress, his fingers are swift in figuring out how to free you from your outer layers, it’s almost amazing how quickly he’s able to take your clothes off until you’re clad in your modest undergarments.

Due to Snezhnaya’s unforgiving winters you often layered multiple articles of clothing and prioritized warmth over aesthetics, the thought your underwear might be underwhelming doesn’t cross your mind until you’re left with your thigh-length woolen socks and plain bra and panties. You wonder if maybe the sight would be disappointing for a man as well traveled as Childe, he’s probably seen much more appealing bodies and clothes during his travels, but that idea goes as quickly as it comes when you finally see his reaction to your partially bare body.

Even though he still wore multiple layers, you could see the way his chest had begun to fall and rise unsteadily, his cheeks have taken a feverish glow, and his breath has become noticeably ragged, the hands that held the clothes he’d recently taken off your body were clearly shaking, his fists tightened their grip on the soft fabrics of your garments until they wrinkled. His eyes never left you, even as they traveled through your body, mapping out every nook and cranny he so desperately wanted to mark and savor, he didn’t dare let his gaze wander as if afraid the minute he did you’d disappear and he’d wake up in his office, cold and alone.

“Hah…” Ajax lets out a soft moan as he takes in the sight in front of him, he feels weak and bothered as he watched your breasts rise and fall as you breathed, he lets his eyes go downwards until he’s face to face with your covered pussy and he feels his underwear slowly moisten as he catches sight of a small wet patch that had formed in your panties.

“Don’t look at me like that…” You mumble into your arms, your body instinctively tries to hide itself but your friend doesn't allow it. The minute he feels your legs try to bundle together he slots himself in between them and throws your clothes away so he can fully grasp and force them apart.

There’s silence as you both stare at each other, waiting for one of you to make the first move and fully pass the point of no return.

Surprisingly, this time it’s you who grows impatient and drags the ginger down to meet your hungry lips.

Maybe it’s because right now, Ajax felt like the only person who cared about you and you felt desperate to feel comforted, you felt betrayed and hurt and you craved to be reminded you were loved. It wasn’t healthy and a part of you felt guilty, like you were using him for momentary comfort, as if you’d forced him to come and offer his hand in marriage, if you were smarter and stronger maybe you would’ve realized what was going on and could have stopped it. But he’d said he loved you, right? You loved him, you knew you did and he’d gone and declared his love for you first, even when you were kids he was always dedicated to reminding you of his adoration, but your parents said that too and where did that lead to? He wasn’t doing this out of feeling obligated to care for you, was he?

Maybe this was a mistake, you probably should not be initiating sex with a man you haven’t seen in person in years after he came to tell you your parent had sold you off to marry some rich old, gross soldier, you instead should have sat down and talked for longer, tried figuring out what was going on and perhaps find a solution that didn’t include you marrying your childhood sweetheart, not out of love but out of fear of being forced into an arranged marriage with a stranger. But the fact of the matter is that you didn’t do that, you let yourself be dragged along by his passion and desperation, you now laid in bed making out with Ajax as you desperately tried to push the thoughts of self-doubt and disgust away.

You try to focus on the present without thinking of the past nor the future; The almost one million Mora your parents had pocketed didn’t mean anything, there was no Andrei Galkin, Ajax had never left you, the Fatui didn’t exist, there hadn’t been any betrayal or hurt feelings, you were safe and you were free, there was nothing. In this room, at least for this moment, all that existed was you and Tartaglia.

His shirt is a barrier between your greedy hands and his naked body that’s becoming increasingly annoying as you parted your lips to grant him access to your all of mouth, which he gladly accepts as your tongues caress each other in a sloppy manner, you feel your teeth sometimes clash with his own but you’re too focused on tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off with the least amount of space between you both to care. They could rip, you didn’t care, you wanted to feel his body and warmth, you needed to feel alive.

Your body is starting to feel tingly, your nipples feel hard against your bra and your lower region becomes needy. You want him to touch you more but his hands are busy fiddling with your hips and waist, alternating between the two spots as he caresses and pinches your skin.

You both seem hesitant to let each other go even if it’s for something as necessary as catching your breaths, but even if things seemed to have slowed down it didn’t mean something isn't happening.

“Ajax,” your voice is soft and breathless, you feel your lungs beg you to not speak, “take ‘em off, wanna touch you…”

You gesture at his clothes, slowly running a finger around his chest and stopping at - where you guessed - his nipple was and pressing down hard.

A deep grunt of approval escaped the man’s lips at the feeling and it took him a second to nod, busy trying not to focus too much on the way he felt his cock throbbing, and back off to make way for him to take his clothes off. Childe refuses to completely climb off you, instead leaning backwards to unbutton his shirt and click off the harness he wore, his coat falling behind is his figure, and his shoes long since thrown elsewhere, his pink nipples are clearly sensitive as his eyes shut off tightly as his clothes graze them, his whole body felt on fire - as if your mere presence were an aphrodisiac to the man. Next is his pants and socks and he does his very best to be as quick as humanly possible, they’re all off in record speed and he’s soon only wearing his underwear.

The minute he’s done, he’s thrown himself back onto you as if trying to make up for the few seconds he’d parted from you.

You’re flustered as you finally feel his skin freely come in contact with yours, as if the situation slowly began sinking in just then. Not to mention, you’d caught sight of his raging boner through the thin layer of fabric that constituted his undergarments. It looked big and thick and you wondered, if you even reached that point, if it was even possible to feel good from such a thing pounding on your hole, it looked like it’d hurt more than anything. But a greedy part of you was desperate to find out how it’d feel to have all of him inside of you, to have his fat tip caressing the deepest corners of your body, painting your gummy insides white.

This time, you both skip the kissing and go straight to touching each other, this time more shamelessly and with less hesitance. Your hands find his neck and you pull his head into the crook of your neck where he dedicates his time to litter kisses across the area, you let your hands wander across his shoulders and neck, softly scratching the skin under your nails whenever he kisses a particularly sensitive spot. On the other hand, Ajax let his hands travel across your chest and cup your breasts, he molds the flesh like a stress ball, tightening his grip and pulling at them like they were toys. The feeling of your bra coming into contact with your hardening nipples makes you whimper and moan while your body contorts in an attempt to meld deeper with the man on top of you.

Your movements are restricted and awkward as you were currently caged between the bed and him, but you do your best to communicate your growing neediness.

“A-Ajax, mhmm~!” You gasp, his teeth gnaw at a spot in your neck that has a shot of neediness reaching your privates in electrifying waves, “… more, I wan’ more…”

You can feel his lips curve into a smirk as he hears the desperation in your voice but he’s not better at concealing the very obvious way your words affected him; “My dove wants more? Hah—haha, a-aren’t you such a cute ‘nd needy little thing.”

You huff slightly at his teasing words but you can’t deny that the way he addressed you as “his” made you grow increasingly horny. He seems to hear your soft complaint and finally parts with your neck, which was now littered with hickies and love bites, to allow himself to gaze deeply into your eyes.

You could never deny that Ajax’s eyes were the prettiest shade of blue you’d ever seen, they resemble sapphires and noctilucous jade but with less shine. When you both were younger you’d spend hours gazing upon them, admiring the intensity they held. Now, however, you can’t say you aren’t slightly intimidated as he gazes at you like a predator. His hands leave your body and you’re immediately missing the warmth they provided you, in fact, you’re about to complain and ask him to touch you again when he suddenly cups your clothed pussy with his hand.

His hand is large, his fingers are long and the palm is in no way small, which meant most - if not all - of your cunt was now being held in one of his hands. His thumb is hovering over your clit and you gasp as you feel him tighten his hold and trace his fingers across your slit and up to your sensitive nub.

You squirm, letting your bottom grind against his hands, slowly building up your pleasure until you’re letting out soft moans and whines. Tartaglia decides to aid you as he himself works towards getting his member hard and oozing with release by moving his hand across your pussy and grinding on your thighs simultaneously. Your mind grows hot and dazed as you sense your pussy begin to drool, you could feel the way your juices leaked, the wet trail they’d leave and traveled across your your entrance, down your slit and across your thighs, soaking your underwear with release; you wondered if Ajax could feel your excitement too.

You could certainly feel him. His cock had long since been hard and leaking precum, you could make out through hazy eyes and desperate movements a wet patch on his boxers. It looked so big constrained against the fabric, you wanted to free his cock and feel it inside your hole, any of them, his balls seemed to hold unceremonious amounts of cum as the wetness kept growing more and more visible to you, you wondered if he’d be willing to come inside of you if you asked.

You both work together, trying to make the other as aroused as possible until someone snapped and began demanding the intercourse you both clearly wanted.

You don’t want to give in, not yet, but he’s begun to tease your slit with his fingertips and you’re growing aggravated from the empty feeling in your cunt. You feel yourself clenching onto nothing, your walls closing desperately trying to find anything to grip onto, you are growing desperate to feel something inside, be it his fingers, his tongue or his cock — you wanted him inside of you, now.

“Ha… hah~” You can feel his tongue hanging from his open mouth, drool escapes his parted lips and coats your breasts, you’re surprised he’s managed to keep himself up for so long, all the training he’d endured paying off and allowing him to mount your thighs and grind his length against your skin, his expression is one of extreme arousal that makes you tense and grow lust-drunk, “T-Tell me… d’ya wanna feel my cock in your pussy yet, darling?”

“…! M—mhk?!” You let out a high pitched whine as a particular stroke of his hands delves momentarily into your clothed hole, you can feel your cum slowly dirty your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, his movements growing erratic, his ginger hair seems darker and less vibrant against his reddened face, “your… your pussy is beggin’ for me!”

“Please…” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your body still rocks alongside his own as he uses your body to get off and bring you close to a mind-numbing release, your voice wavers as your whole being is shocked from the pleasure Ajax’s hand toying with your clothed cunt brings, your legs twitch and your body keeps contorting and folding.

“Hmm, please what? I need you to tell me,” he mumbles, his voice takes a deep, desperate and animalistic tone as he continues, he takes his fingers and starts to circle your clit with an unimaginable force, “What do you want, huh? If you want me to fuck y-you, you’ll need to use your big girl words. Say; “I want my husband’s cock inside of me”, come on, ask for y-your husband’s cock…!”

“A~Ajax…! Please-uh…” Your body begins to hurt, your very own genitals seem to be burning in fire as you desperately try to soothe the ache in your womb and clit. You begin to rut against his hands at an embarrassing, almost objectifying, pace, absolutely desperate to cum and lift the cloud of lust that seemed to haunt you from the moment Ajax laid your body on your mattress.

“That’s not who I am,” he mumbles into your skin, his teeth beginning to bite and mark the flesh of your breast, “I’m y-your husband now, right? So, ask for it properly… hah~ won’t you?”

“… want my h-husband’s cock, I… inside of me, please,” you whine between heavy breaths, “I… want to fuck my—hah… h-husband…”

The moan that leaves his lips is loud and primal, his whole body shudders as he hears your plea. He didn’t think he could get any harder and yet hearing your shaky voice ask for him sends a rush of blood through his body and straight to his dick.

“Ahaha… that’s right, isn’t it? I-I’m your husband now,” an unsettling grin starts to form on his face, one that, if you weren’t so desperate and vulnerable, would probably have sent a shiver down your spine; it was an expression that resembled his face after ending a powerful opponent, one that meant victory was his, that he’d won, it was the face many people would see before departing the realm of the living, one of pure, unhinged bliss that could only be understood by a man such as himself, “I’m your husband, your husband… a-ah! Ha-ah, that means… hah, that means it’s my duty to fuck you, to make you feel good, a good husband makes love to his spouse, right? S-so as your husband, I get to be inside of you… a-and make you cum lots. Yeah, I… I’m going to be the best husband, you’ll feel good too… So be a good wife and take all of my love, ‘kay?”

During his incoherent rambling, which you barely could understand, he works to rid you of your underwear with desperate movements. His hands pull at the fabric with enough force that they tear, allowing him to rip the fabric off your hips and discard it on the floor. The cool air in your room hits your lower end and makes you shiver, your body had been previously engulfed by Childe’s warmth, the feeling of his own heating body and rapid blood circulation had sheltered you from the freezing temperature outside of the sinful haven between your bodies. The difference in temperature and its effect on you seems to have been noticed by your partner, who looks around the room trying to find a solution.

You want to hurry him up, tell him you didn’t mind the cold, that you just wanted to feel him inside you for the first time, but before you know it he’s pulling something from behind; his white coat soon is back on his shoulders, lazily throw on, barely holding up as he quickly pulls his underwear off. He’s quick and precise, never wasting a moment as he adjusts himself on top of you once more, this time with his bare cock leaking on your stomach.

“I’ll heat you up… inside and out, hah…” He mumbles, adjusting the coat so it covers both of you, the long, heavy material immediately worked wonders as your body regained its warmth.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you, you’re both trembling as he slowly lowers his pelvis to meet your own. You were right, he was big and he was long and thick, but he made sure to go slowly as he inserted two fingers to stretch you out in preparation.

Your slick facilitates the intrusion, there’s not much pain as he opens and closes his fingers, curling and extending them, as if trying to gauge how far you could stretch. His cheeks are a bright red, sweat runs through his forehead as he feels your body accommodate the feeling of his fingers. Ajax was big, always taller than most in your village, and his time in the Fatui had definitely contributed to his size – his shoulders were broad, his chest chiseled, and his fingers, the ones that slowly danced inside your pussy, were long and calloused. This was your first time feeling something other than your own hands and Ajax was making sure to show you all the places you could have never reached on your own.

You don’t even realize you’d begun panting, soft whines and moans had been leaving your lips forma while now, noises that only served to encourage Ajax further. But he had to stop, he needed you both to cum together as one. Your first time together had to be romantic like that, both of you climaxing together and coming undone at the same time.

There’s a feeling of emptiness and disappointment that follows the feeling of his fingers leaving your body, you’re about to complain when you see him bring his fingers to his lips to lap at the slick that had stuck to them. You’re mesmerized at the lewd image, gazing hopelessly at the way his face melted into one of pure pleasure as he tasted you. He makes sure to lick his fingers clean, his tongue lapping at the cum.

You catch his eyes and they soften, a lovestruck look taking over his features, you nod and open your legs wider than before; encouraging him to finally fuck you. He positions himself outside of your opening, making sure you grasp your legs and pull them as wide apart as he physically could without hurting you.

Even with the previous preparation, your breath is knocked out of your lungs as his tip slowly makes its way through your slit, past the muscles and finally inside your gummy walls.

He uses his arms to adjust his body, making sure to be as careful as possible as to not hurt you. This was your first time making love to each other, and he’d be damned if he were the one to cause you pain.

He gives you a second before pushing the rest in, he’s still slow, attempting to coax your body into adjusting to the feeling of being so full. His blue eyes are closed, his breath is heavy and you can feel the bed shake as he tries to control himself, you’re not faring much better, your head felt light as all your body could seemingly concentrate on was the feeling between your legs, your body was heating up and you could feel the warmth radiate off your skin.

You know he’s fully sheathed himself when you feel the soft “thud” of his balls hitting your ass, you’ve become hyper aware of the proximity and situation you’re in as his cock begins to throb inside of your pussy, his head comes to rest on the crook of your neck as you both adjust to the feeling of each other's body.

A moment passes, your walls that had previously been gripping Ajax like a lifeline slowly weaken, finally allowing both of you to relax and begin to experiment.

“I-I’ll start…” He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as if feeling shy, he begins to move around as if to grip the bed’s headboard, all while still inside you, his arms allowing him to cover your body from the world.

As you look up, you realize how he’s become all you see, his imposing frame and coat acting as a curtain blocking the outside from entering your view. Your heart feels heavy but you try and pay it no mind.

The movements are slow and clumsy at first, his cock never truly leaves your warmth fully, his tip always kept inside of your cunt - one way or another. The feeling is strange, you’re not used to the way his length would gaze at your walls or the feeling of the veins on his dick caressing spots inside of you that made you gasp and curl your toes. It’s new and it takes some adjusting before you begin to rock your own hips to meet his, suddenly it begins to feel good, really good in fact. There was something about the stretch, maybe it was the feeling of being so full, the way his cock curved and hit spongy spots in your pussy becomes addicting, or maybe it was the fat vein that decorated the underside of his cock, but it wasn’t long until you’re trying to entice a faster, tougher pace.

He takes his time teasing and easing you into the rhythm of sex, he wouldn’t tell you, but a part of him was scared that if he picked up his pace he wouldn’t be able to stop until you were leaking his cum - not to mention, he wasn’t sure he’d last long if he started to fuck you even faster. The feeling of your walls gripping him was divine, there are moments his thrusts grow unsteady and out of sync, as if his body was trying to take control and allow itself to set the animalistic pace he so desperately wanted, it’s these exact moments where his patience is tested, where he wants nothing more than to pick up your body and use it as a toy to fill with his semen.

“I wan’ more,'' you moan and he freezes as he feels your hips pathetically lift up to meet his heated thrust, your lower region coming up and rolling, rocking, and sloppily caressing his own pelvis in an attempt to suck him deeper into your sex, this was the first time you’d ever experienced such fullness and pleasure, your mind was numb and you’d forgotten all about previous sorrows, you truly wanted to feel more and more until all you could think of was Ajax’s cock and feeling good, “… wan’na feel my… my husband’s c-cock…?!”

At the title, the ginger truly can’t help the way his hips basically crash into yours, it was purely instinctual – just the sound of your calling him yours and acknowledging him as your husband, even if you’d only gotten engaged less than an hour ago, was enough to drive him mad with lust. He feels his head grow dizzy as thoughts of breeding you and claiming you as his take over. It’s as if a switch is turned on because from that moment onwards the atmosphere changed completely.

His previously considerate and soft strokes become harsh and rapid, you can feel your bed move rhythmically with his thrusts, your whole body jolts as he begins to fuck you with the sole goal of filling you so deeply your body was to be conditioned to respond lewdly to his mere presence. They’re deeper too as he now focused on feeling and claiming as much of your hole as possible, it’s impossible not to feel the way his cock imprinted itself deeply inside your body.

Your hands are desperate to grasp onto something, so you clutch at the sheets under you as tightly as possible, your body feels hot and heavy; your legs twitch and you're left gasping as Childe grabs your hips to adjust your position. You’re still lying down but your back arches itself to allow him easy access to your bottom, it’s surprising how easily he’s able to manhandle your body while never quite pulling out, always making sure to insert himself as quickly as he exited, never truly pulling out all of his dick.

The new position allows for him to hurry his pace, you’re soon moving like a rag doll with no control over your limbs. You’re left a moaning, whining mess as your brain struggles to process the waves of pleasure that bloomed from deep inside your pussy.

You feel your heart beating and you can almost hear the sound of your slick pouring out and lubricating your walls, making it increasingly easy to continue the Fatui’s pounding of your cunt. You’re not too sure if you’re even able to talk, the thought of forming a coherent sentence felt farfetched, all that leaves your lips are whines, sounds of pure pleasure and bliss that sound like an orchestra to Ajax.

He’s not doing much better, his vocabulary seems to have been reduced to declarations of ownership over you, boundless love, and immense pleasure. Your name soon becomes the only coherent sound leaving his lips as he lets his head fall back, his body almost working on autopilot as he allows his hips to ram inside you while his hands focus on teasing your nipples and forcing you to face his reddening face. His chest shines with sweat as he makes sure to fill the room with the sound of your skin meeting him and the growing wet mess between your merging bodies.

You’re both soon leaking arousal, Ajax’s cock starts to slowly redden and grow inside of you as he approaches orgasm, drops of precum start to form on the tip, and your torso starts to heat up as it feels heavier the better you feel; your cum is soon coating his dick white, a clear indicator he’d been inside your drooling cunt. You let go of the sheets and bring a hand to your clit, desperate to bring yourself closer to release.

“Ah-! Just like that,” Ajax exclaims, lurching forward as he feels your walls tighten around his cock, “tighten around me like that, fu–uck! I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your pussy, gonna shoot my cum inside you… Haha–hah! You’re… you’re gonna be full with my cum, are you ready?”

You nod mindlessly, too busy playing with your clit and pressing kisses into Ajax’s skin. The feeling of being filled by your childhood sweetheart was intoxicating, it left you an overstimulated mess, moaning and whining as you gripped the man’s shoulders to bring him closer to you.

You couldn’t tell who came first, only that your final push was the feeling of Childe’s lips on yours. Maybe it’s the desperation you felt radiating off him as his tongue caressed your own, the way his hands tighten around your body as he begins unloading his cum begins seeping into your pussy and deep inside your body. You’re a shaking mess as you continue riding your orgasm on his dick, prolonging the pleasurable feeling by rocking your hips into his in an almost shy manner, it’s addicting and you’re left gasping and moaning for more. On the other hand, Ajax was trembling on top of you, his arms seemingly giving out as he collapsed into your body, allowing his head to rest beside your own on your pillows while his cock throbbed and painted your insides with his cum. He gives a few weak thrusts, as if making sure that his balls have been thoroughly emptied, before he looks over at your panting face.

You’re trying to catch your breath, desperately trying to calm your heart down into a stable rhythm, while your body twitches in a post-orgasm afterglow. You’re sweating, your eyes shut tight as you feel your pussy swell around Ajax’s dick, which was very much still inside you, and grow sensitive. Even in this state, where you’re too shaken to do anything other than breathe and try to relax your body, he thinks he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.

His hand, which trembled ever so slightly, travels to find yours and intertwine your fingers together. He subconsciously traces your ring-finger, trying to estimate your size, you’d accepted his proposal, going as far as acknowledging him as your husband, it was now his responsibility to find a suitable ring for you, one worthy of resting on your fingers.

He smiles, cuddling deep into your bare skin, pressing his softening cock deeper into you, which earns him a soft whine from you, essentially plugging his semen inside your pussy.

“… I love you, Ajax.” You mumble, eyes still closed shut, your voice drowsy and far away as exhaustion slowly catches up to you. Today had been hard on you, physically and mentally, you’d learnt more than you’d wished to have known, your relationship with those around you now forever changed; you’d agreed to marry your childhood friend in response to your parents’ betrayal, you’d given up your virginity to him and now laid in bed, struggling to know if you’d made the right decisions. An inner turmoil was growing inside you, a storm of emotions you were not ready to deal with, but right now, as you lay beneath the man who’d promised to save you, you decide to rest and let him take care of it, for now. Your breathing slows down, your body finally succumbing to sleep.

You’re too tired to hear the sound of the front door unlocking, your mother’s voice booming across the house as she calls out for you as she ushers your father and guests inside your family house. Ajax makes no move to leave your bed or even remove himself from inside of you, not even as he recognizes the distinct sound of footsteps that belonged to your parents moving around downstairs, grinnin softly as he hears your mother call out for you again, while your father talked to someone and merrily laughed, joking around, easing the tension of the first meeting between two people set up in an arranged marriage – where only one of them knew.

He can hear your parents talking, making an excuse at where you were, he can hear your mother climb up the stairs, he can hear her getting closer to your room.

What a lousy move, he thought to himself, to ambush you one day and try to dump the news on top of you like this, you didn’t even seem aware of guests coming over to your home at all, he frowned; he had expected more of uncle and auntie. Alas, he’d long since given up on them, he just hopes your mother doesn’t scream too loudly when she sees you two in bed together.

He’d hate for you to wake up to such an awful shriek.

There’s a knock on your door, Ajax smiles but makes no move to answer, and then another as your mother calls out your name. She sighs before threatening to open the door, Ajax has to stifle a giggle, pressing his lips into your shoulder to not let out any noise, too afraid to ruin the surprise for his soon to be mother-in-law, she hears no response, she clearly feels agitated and annoyed, he can hear it the way she knocks once more with a stern calling of your name.

There’s a second of silence before the door is swung open.

Ajax looks over to your mother, his coat covering both your naked forms enough that a semblance of modesty is kept but not enough that what happened between the two of you was misunderstood, it would be clear to anyone who could walk in, and he smiles, leaning his body into your own, further embracing you and pushing your sleeping face into his chest, he rolls over as a playful wave is sent her way, she stands frozen in place. Your bottom halves are still covered by the oversized coat, but the bruises and bites that litter your bodies are enough to paint a picture, his hand moves to caress your body, a smug smile takes over his features as he watches your mother try to come up with the right words to say.

“Hello, ma’am,” his tone is playful but the look on his face is one of pure venom, she looks beyond flustered but isn’t able to say a word; too shaken by the sight, the combination of her daughter and a man in bed together and the Harbinger’s insignia that seemed to shine with even the smallest movements from the ginger was enough to send her stumbling back, “it’s been a while, we have a lot to catch up on, huh?”