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armoralor · 9 months

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[TW: homophobia, threats of physical violence, SA, gun violence]

IMPORTANT: do not interact with the person mentioned below. please do not send hate or harass ANY of the accounts mentioned. the point of this post is to warn the community of a serious threat, not to dog pile or stir a hate mob. his accounts have been reported and local authorities have been made aware of his potential for harm. Last updated: 01/30/2024. New information begins close to the bottom, starting at the red text.

Some of you may already be familiar with the homophobic incel that was previously filling the Ahsoka & Sabine Wren tags with vile misogyny. He's gone by many names due to banning and deactivations: @sabezrastan01, @longlivetheemporer, @imperialloyalist01, @standorando, and @imperialsycophant. Here's the guy that gave us this classic:

Now, as meme worthy as that post was- it's unfortunately just the tip of the iceberg. Despite his exile from this social media site, he continues to be active on Instagram and TikTok. He also continues to get support from some of the same folks that have been painting sapphics and wolfwren shippers out as vicious bullies.

I didn't intend to find everything I did, but this man constantly comments under official Star Wars media posts calling queer women "degenerates" and "beasts," so it's been hard to miss. It honestly hurts to reread this shit again, but I want to warn anyone who 1) may interact with him without realizing he's a incel neo nazi 2) may be harmed by his continued harassment.

First thing to remember about him- he doesn't just complain about shipping, he has wished death and harm upon multiple people. On top of the two screenshots below, he also discussed wanting to put a bullet in Dave Filoni's head (the alt account was taken down before I thought to screenshot):

He wrote "these people need to be beaten" on a dozen anti-wolfwren posts before his most recent account was taken down. He has embraced the common anti-LGBTQIA+ rhetoric of queer people being pedophiles and rapists:

He repeatedly brings rape up unprompted, especially when talking to nonbinary folks and women:

Plus buys into the "woke agenda" causing queer relationships to happen in media:

You'll notice the irony of him "worrying" wolfwren shippers are going to threaten the actors, despite him previously threatening to kill Dave Filoni and beat wolfwren shippers. He seems to be projecting a lot of his own desires and wishes onto other people, which will become even more obvious further down this post.

Now, thankfully his last tumblr account was taken down for inciting violence, but as i mentioned before, it's hard to miss him on other platforms:

Out of morbid curiosity I clicked on his account, and it's unfortunately what you would expect for from an incel. His follower and following list is littered with white nationalists, militia groups, tactical gear stores, weapon vendors, alt-right religious orgs, and 4chan neo nazis.

Instagram Followers:

Instagram Following:

It's clean he's unhinged and a danger to those who don't share similar interests. He seems to make allowances for anyone who ships sabezra, but otherwise is a diehard supporter of alt-right Christian nationalist beliefs.

One of his previous account names on Instagram was @cajunminuteman, with a confederate flag as his pfp. In current alt right groups, a minuteman is a person who is ready to pick up a gun and fight on a minutes' notice, typically in a militia against the government. His previous account also followed a number of Christian Southern Nationalist accounts:

There are a number of shippers that continue to interact with this man. Most sabezra shippers I've chatted with are very sweet, some of you even share discord servers with me and have so much love for this fandom. I'm only asking those of you who choose to ignore this man's threats of violence to revaluate how far you are willing to go to support a fictional ship.

Wolfwren shippers have bore the brunt of fandom hate and harassment since Ahsoka started airing. We continue to get called degenerates, rapists, pedophiles, and threatened with physical violence. This is not the same, or in any way equivalent, to silly jokes made about fictional ships being made canon. It's exhausting to get constant harassment in real life AND online.

Are there mean wolfwren shippers? Absolutely. I'm sorry queer people sometimes cheer on cishet ships not becoming canon, I know it sucks when it's over something you like. No, enjoying cishet ships doesn't make you any less queer, and I'm sorry there was an asshole out there that said that shit. But can we PLEASE stop acting like sapphics and wolfwren enjoyers are ALWAYS bullies? That we're somehow always the ones threatening people? It plays into the alt-right rhetoric of the LGBTQIA+ community being predators and I'm so sick of it, especially when there is so much outright vile hate for queers.

If there are any wolfwrens sending hate and/or threats, I am begging for an example or name so they can be reported properly. None of us condone any of the nasty shit that's been sent, we deal with enough hate irl. This man's closest friends aren't much better, joking about wanting to hurt wolfwren shippers and how the LGBTQIA+ community is a bad thing:

The most recent return to tumblr was under account @imperialsycophant where he tried to pretend he wasn't the same incel loser:

He eventually went mask off, realizing that most people weren't foolded:

On January 24 2024, his most recent Instagram account (@imperialloyalist01) was taken down. Less than 24 hours later, a sabezra shipper DM'd me asking me to delete this post. I explained to the shipper that the point of this post was to warn the fandom as a whole of this guy's behaviour, and at multiple points I make it clear everyone should stay away + not engage any of the accounts involved.

Everything included in this thread is public information taken from public posts or public accounts. The shipper who DM'd me still demanded I remove this post, as it could "hurt their friends."

The context of who the incel associates himself with is helpful when conveying the severity & underlying motives of his actions. There are approximately two non alt-right/neo-nazi accounts in the following/follower lists I shared. Those who were following @imperialloyalist01 up until January 24th were both privately and publicly made aware they were following a person threatening harm against others, but they continued to like, comment, and follow the account. This does not mean any of them should be harassed or bothered. It simply provides additional context to the situation and will hopefully aid others in forming their own opinions on who they wish to befriend.

When I reminded the shipper who DM'd me that their friends were continuing to make jokes about hitting/hurting wolfwren shippers, AND tagging wolfwren in those edits, I did not get a response. However, what I did get was mass spam reported.

Shortly after I sent the above message and the sabezra shipper realized I would not be taking this post down, my account was hate reported and temporarily terminated. Tumblr has an automated feature that bans accounts immediately (out of safety) if they are reported by a large group of people at the same time (which is fair, say someone posts torture or something terrible). Thankfully, after I emailed the abuse support team and explained the situation, they reinstated my account:

I will not be sharing the name of the sabezra shippers who tried to take down my account. I already get harassed enough, and I don't want anyone to go through the same shit. Please remember that a small group of bad people do NOT represent an entire community. There are plenty of sweet sabezra shippers that do not support this kind of disgusting and hateful behaviour.

Key takeaways: don't send hate or threats. Let people have their fun online while they attempt to avoid the Horrors of real life. Please don't support people spewing vile hate JUST because they like the same fictional ships as you.

Other posts related to him: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

#updated Friday Jan 30 2024 #sabezra #wolfwren #ezrabine #sabine wren #ezra bridger #bluebean #swr #rebels #shin hati #ahsoka #tw homophobia #tw sa #tw violence #text #mine #i reported him but who knows what will come of it- i just want everyone to stay safe. do not engage for your own safety please.

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theonceandfuturequeenoftarts · 2 months

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Thank you for the tag, @mosiva! ♡♡♡

"Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Four of these were easy choices and one was trickier, but in no particular order...

thrown into the nest (T, 10,565 words, WIP)

This fic possessed me. The first chapter took over my entire life for ten hours during which I came up with and wrote the whole thing -- I couldn't stop until it was done and posted. Two or three days later, the same thing happened with the second chapter. It's like I was exorcising demons into a doc file. It's also notable because maybe a week or two before I wrote it, I told a friend I would never write ABO fic. More fool me.

I love this fic because it drew together so many ace people -- I've never felt a greater sense of community than I did in the hours after this fic was posted, seeing the comments of people who saw themselves in Harry and Tom's experiences. It blew me away, and I felt so happy to have done justice to some small part of the ace experience. It was a different type of joy, and a bit more cathartic, to write compared to other fics of mine.

VII (M, 2,609 words)

I think I've said it before, but I honestly thought this would be one of those weird little fics that I wrote for myself and maybe five other people would like. It's grown beyond what I originally meant it to be, and while I really, really love the sequel too, this one holds my heart. It's disjointed and dark (for me), and it's one of the few that I've written that actually has Harry and Voldemort start out hating each other and move through it. (What can I say, I mainly write crack and fluff.) They're both feral and damaged and violent and cling to each other all the tighter for it by the end. I also like making the Unspeakables ethically (and morally) dubious and research-obsessed, and this was my first foray into that.

naïve melody (G, 2,904 words)

The Ferris wheel fic; another fic that I thought maybe five other people would enjoy. I'm still proud of the wistful tone it has, and some of the turns of phrase, despite the crack-tastic premise. It's sweet and silly and it makes me feel warm to re-read it. It might also be my favourite Voldemort characterisation of all the fics I've written.

engrave the silhouette of you (M, 10,480 words, WIP)

Look... I just like hurting them, okay? I used the "angst with a happy ending" tag because I need everyone (myself included) to know it's gonna be alright in the end. I have made myself a crying mess multiple times in the course of writing or plotting out this fic. This is very much a "how would the characters react in this situation if X happened?" fic that has grown legs. It's fun (and painful) to put myself in Harry and Voldemort's headspaces and then put us all through the emotional meat-grinder. But it's going to be fine. Eventually.

Capsized (M, 948 words)

Fun, not-previously-shared fact: this fic started out as a way for me to process my maladaptive daydreams and suicidal ideations through Harry. All of the things he imagines or considers are things that I have, as well. (This makes the one comment that says "MAKE HIM SUFFER YASSSS" really, really funny to me.) I wasn't sure if I would ever post it -- it took me five months to decide to do it, because it's extremely personal. But it felt good to put it all into words and make it... "pretty," I guess? It's probably as raw as I can make it while also trying to fit it into the HP world and have it be enjoyable to read.

(Honourable mention goes to Prompt-ober 2023, because it almost killed me to do it, but it was so much fun to write everyday for a month and have the same folks comment each day and chat with them throughout the month (I love you all ♡♡♡). However, that's like twenty-five different fics in one, so it doesn't count.)

Tagging @liquidluckandstuff, @i-dream-of-libraries, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @aglassroseneverfades, and @hikarimeroperiddle

No pressure, do it if it will be a fun distraction! ♡♡♡

(Note: I recently locked my account to registered users only because of an AI scraper targetting Ao3. If you don't have an account and would like to read any of the above, just send me a message and I'll provide a file ♡)

#my fics #self rec #hp fanfic #tomarrymort

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multi-fandom-simp · 1 year

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My soul, my heart, my fault

Part 1/3

Jacearys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader (platonic, sisterly), Lucerys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader(Platonic, sisterly), Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader(mentioned throughout)

-Reader is Laenor's legitimate child in both past and present parts of this fic.-

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: What's dead, is supposed to stay dead. However, the fates decide to make an exception in the case of your younger sibling's unjust deaths. You, who lived through the dance of the dragons, are brought back for the soul purpose of watching them grow again...or perhaps it was die again, you couldn't quite remember. (This will be a three part series)

Side Note: The areas in italics are memories, or moments of the past.

❗TW❗: Mentions of character death and actual character death, murder, angst, blood, incest?(I mean reader was Aemond's niece in past mentions), angst

(A/N: Hello! This is the first HOTD fic I've posted where the reader has a set house and set parent, but nonetheless I am not forcing you to imagine those specifics as their appearance. The reader's legitimate father in this story is Laenor. Simply because I feel like I don't see enough stories/fics with a true Velaryon reader. That being said, if you have any other fic Recs or even requests that involve a Velaryon reader, please send them my way👀. I've also thought about making a series involving a pair of Velaryon twins, so I'd love to know if anyone would be interested in that. Aside from my rambles, I tagged this as both Velaryon reader and just reader so that people may read it if they please. As always, I love to hear your thoughts and see your reactions, enjoy!)

Word Count: 3,924

“Kepus” Your small voice echoed overtop the waves that surrounded your father.

Laenor, who had been previously focused on the sea turned at your call,“ Yes, Tala”

You stumbled through the water until you were able to cling to his side,“ Why do they whisper about Jace and Luke?”

“ Because your brothers are different” Your father explained softly. His hand swept lovingly over the back of your head as you gazed up at him.

“ How so?”

His hands came down to cradle your face,“ It matters not. What matters, is that they are still your brothers. You must not let the whispers get between you and them.”

“ Nothing could ever take me from them, Kepa, I promise” Your tone was fierce, just like the blood that ran through your veins. Laenor smiled and squatted to your level, paying no mind to the water that soaked his clothes. He seemed to study you for a second as if he was committing the moment to memory.

Finally, he took a breath to speak,“ That’s good because you must protect them, Tala. You are their big sister, their fate rests with you.”

“ I can no-” Your father was quick to spot your hesitancy. The hands that once held your face now held your hands. While his features remained soft, fear was evident in his eyes.

“ -You must have no doubts. Doubts lead to death, and fate is already not on your side. Heed my words, Tala, history will repeat itself,” Whether or not he was referring to him and Laena or you and the boys, you’ll never know. What you did know was that history indeed would repeat itself.

In 129 AC, you watched your brother Lucerys Velaryon die, and in 2006 you welcomed him as he was born again as your cousin. Three-year-old you was immensely confused on why these people kept referring to him as your cousin, but as you got older you came to the realization that no one else remembered who they were and that things were different. Whilst Laenor Velayron remained your father, Rhaenyra Targaryen was not your mother. In all honesty, you were not sure who your mother was. One thing was for certain though, your brothers had been taken from you. They now grew up in a different house with no memories of all you did for them eons ago. It was as if fate itself had placed a curse on you. Still, you weren’t one to let the gods dictate your life. Once your eleventh birthday came around, you begged Nyra to let you babysit the two youngest boys. She agreed without hesitation and suddenly you were back to seeing the boys almost every other day rather than in the summers. You thought you had outsmarted time and fate themselves. Six years went by and you had managed to watch the boys grow without problems. Well aside from the fact that your father and Viserys had agreed that you and Aemond would be together for the sake of both the Velaryon and Targaryen dynasties. That was six months ago, and everything had started to decline since then. Your father had mysteriously vanished, Rhaenyra’s husband Harwin had died, and tensions between the families were at an all-time high. It wasn’t Aemond’s fault per se, he was a great partner, but you knew how this went. In the end, you would be torn between his family and your own. More specifically between your brothers and him. The mere thought of it all happening again sent your stomach into knots. If only there were a way to prevent everything, prevent time from repeating itself. Maybe then you could save your brother-

" Hellooo, are you there? Hey-" Your thoughts vanished as Jace came into view. Were you having a nightmare again? No, surely not in the middle of the day, not while the boys were here.

The realization of your whereabouts sat you upright, forcing your eyes to the couch where you had last left the youngest boys, who still sat there much to your relief,"-Shit, sorry! Did I space off again?"

"You looked like you were asleep with your eyes open, to be honest," Jace snorted, his hair was wet and a gym bag hung from his shoulder, " Rough night?"

His question was answered with a groan as you laid your cheek against the cool countertop, "I’ll take that as a yes?"

"Every night is a rough night when you have nightmares like mine" You mumble between the space in your arms, “Do you ever have weird dreams, Jace?”

Jace sat beside you, mirroring the position you had slumped into. You turned your face towards him as he spoke, "I had a dream once where I was in archery club...but I was naked, like bare as can be-"

"-You can not be serious"

"Oh but I am, and my grandfather's creepy friend Otto was the teacher. It was definitely weird, but I didn't lose sleep over it" Jace shrugged.

" Why are you guys talking like that?" Both you and Jace lift your heads to face Luke. The curly-haired boy stood on the other side of the kitchen island with his eyebrows raised.

You shrugged, “Why are you not talking like this?”

“ Because I’m a normal human being?” He questioned sarcastically, “ anyways, while I have the attention-”

“You always have the attention” Jace scoffs.

You nod in agreement,“ Mhm, it’s because he’s the favorite.”

“ Can I talk or..” Luke stands there staring at the two of you patiently, much like his mother would. Actually, it reminds you of the first time Nyra caught you sneaking the boys into the kitchens during the hour of the owl.

“You must be very quiet. Some say the kitchen maids have special abilities that let them know food has been stolen” You whisper to the boys with a suppressed grin. Each of them held lemon tarts as you securely closed the door.

Luke’s doe eyes widen with fear, “Do you think they’re witches? Will they curse us?”

“ The kitchen maids are not the ones you should be worried about” The three of you whipped around at the sound of your mother’s voice. She stood tall in the firelight, a red robe covering her as she stared down expectantly.

A nervous grin stretched across your features, “ Muna! We were just collecting lemon tarts to bring to you!”

“ You know, your father has this knack for flattering me when he’s trying to cover a lie. It would be a shame for my daughter to try and do the same” She hummed suspiciously.

“ I would never!” You cringed as you realized how identical you sounded to your kepa, “Alright, we were trying to sneak lemon tarts for ourselves, but it won’t happen again! ”

“ If you were still hungry, you should have told me so. Now, Jace, Luke, take the tarts to your chambers and go to bed please.” The boys bid Rhaenyra a good night and took off down the hall swiftly.

Your fingers fiddled with your nightdress nervously, “ I’m sorry, I did not mean to cause trouble.”

“ Oh my heart, you did not cause trouble. It is natural to sneak out at a young age, but you need to be careful here. There are people in this world who seek to hurt your brothers, and you must be their protector.” She cooed, her thumb stroking your cheek.

The fire in your eye returned once more, “ No one will hurt them. Not while I’m by their side.”

“-I’m starting to think she had a medical condition at this point” It was Jace once again who pulled you from the past, but with Luke beside him this time. The two of them both stared at you with confusion. The dry itch in your eyes became apparent as you came back into focus.

“ Maybe she’s just tired from dealing with Aemond all the time-”

You cut off Luke’s jest with a groan, “ Okay, can we not start up the hate train for my boyfriend today? I was just daydreaming, good gods.”

“ No need to start the train up when it was never off in the first place” Jace spoke teasingly. Any rebuttals that were set to come from your mouth were ceased by the constant buzzing from your phone, which laid on the counter for everyone to see.

Luke’s eyes bugged at the sight of Aemond’s contact,“ ñuha zaldrīzes?! You call him your drag-”

“Shut up!” You reached over to slap a hand over his mouth as you answered the phone, “ Aem, hey, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on? Have you looked at the time recently?” looking over to the clock, your face fell. It was twenty past seven, which meant you were twenty minutes late to your dinner with Aemond.

“I thought you would be here as soon as Jace got home, has he not arrived yet?” From beside you, Jace held a thumbs up, as if he was allowing you to use him as an excuse.

“He was a little late getting home and then we got to talking and I just-”

Aemond’s sigh drowned out your words, “-Lost track of time, yeah. It seems like that happens a lot when you’re with them.”

The boy’s watched as you visibly deflated, “Aemond, that’s not fair.”

“ Not fair? You constantly put me second to them. I am- your husband and lover. Sooner or later you will have to choose, either me or them, and I will not tolerate a bastard being put before me. Not in this lifetime or the next.”

“You are being unreasonable, Aemond!”

“ The unreasonable one is you! There is a war afoot and you insist on playing both sides. If you think this will end in a happy ever after..then you’re- mistaken. Are you even listening? Hello?” Time was running out and you could feel it. The last time Aemond had spoken those words, Luke had ended up dead hours later. With fear clouding your judgment you hung up without another word. Which probably didn’t help the situation, but what else could you do? Tell Luke what you thought would happen? No, he was only fifteen, he would be terrified. You couldn’t tell Jace, because as close as the two of you were he would still think you’re crazy. And Aemond, he was absolutely out of the question. Accusing him of something like that would drive the wedge further between the two of you.

“ You must protect them, Tala. You are their big sister, their fate rests with you.” What if I don’t know how?

“There are people in this world who seek to hurt your brothers, and you must be their protector” How can I be their protector when I brought the danger to them? Is it me? Am I the variable that needs to be changed? What if I take Luke’s place?

“ Luke-” Your throat tightened as you looked forward. The spot Luke previously stood in was empty, as was Jace’s spot beside you, “ Luke?!”

Jace reappeared from behind you,“ He went out to ride his bike.”

Confusion and worry clouded your eyes,“ It’s raining, he can’t possibly ride in this weather?!”

Jace shrugged, “I suppose the rain didn’t matter after he heard your conversation with Aemond.”

“Wha-” Fear suffocated your heart like a python. He wouldn’t confront Aemond over a silly argument, would he?

“ Before you ask, no I did not just let him walk out the door to go confront our sociopathic uncle. He isn’t that fast of a peddler, so I’ll just catch up to him in the car” You snatched the keys from Jace’s hand before he could even finish his next thought.

“ Hey-”

“- This is my fault, I’ll fix it” You spoke while making a beeline for the front door, “ I promise I’ll bring the car back in one piece, and Luke too!” You didn’t wait for Jace to reply, there was no need. Nothing he could say would change your mind.

The rain barely touched you, that’s how fast you had made it to the car. You used one hand to whip out onto the street as your other hand pulled up Aemond’s contact. It rang four, five times before going to voicemail. You tried again and again to no avail before it finally went through.

“ Hello? Aemond?” Your voice was as shaky as the car on the slick roads.

“ Are you going to hang up on me again?” His tone was short, meaning he was upset.

“ No, I was just overwhelmed-” The familiar click of a turning signal sounded throughout the car, but you weren’t turning, “ Aemond, please tell me you’re at home.”

“ I’m not. I’m on my way to pick you up” Oh gods. You couldn’t do this, not now. Why was it all happening so fast?

“ I’m not there. I went out to look for Luke. Just go back home and I will meet you there” You pleaded, which was entirely out of character for you.

“I’m not far-”

“-Aemond, please! Just this once, listen to me” You hoped the urgency in your voice would persuade him to listen. Alas, it did not, and part of you knew it wouldn’t.

“The rain is too thick to turn back now. I can barely see anything as it is” Aemond argued, “ I’ll wait at the boy’s house until you get back. I promise I won’t do anything, I won’t even get out of the car.”

Your fear regressed a little. If Aemond was out of the way, then nothing could possibly happen. This could work, or so you thought. Straight ahead, racing through the storm was Lucerys. He was completely drenched from what you could tell and barely pedaling straight. You hit the brakes and jumped out of the car.

“ Luke, get in the car!” The storm roared loudly over your voice, but he still managed to hear you.

Luke shook his head, “ I won’t let him treat you like that, not again.”

“What do you mean not again?” That’s when you noticed, Luke’s eyes were different, older, “You remember, don’t you?”

He nodded slowly, unsurely, “ When Aegon hit my head against the table at dinner last week it all came flooding back. I thought they were dreams at first, but then I noticed how different you acted. How you had changed then to now.”

“ You never said anything”

“I didn’t know that you remembered, I’m sorry” He apologized through chattering teeth.

You smiled softly, “ It doesn’t matter anymore, just come with me. Let me take you back home.”

That’s when Luke’s own smile fell, “ I can’t. I ran away from him the first time, but not this time.”

“ That wasn’t your fault, Luke. I was the one who told you to run, so please, just- take my hand!"

"I won't leave Arrax!" Luke screamed from below you, ignoring the hand that you held down towards him.

"Vhagar is set to kill Arrax. You must take my hand Lucerys, please!" Eyes as green as sea moss flashed through the heavy downpour like lightning. Eyes that held fear that chilled your bones more than the freezing rain. Next came the hand, the hand that held scars from dragon riding yet looked as soft as a handful of clouds. You reached for it amidst the haze, only it never seemed to get any closer.

“Reach further-” and that’s when you saw it, rather than when you saw him. It was Aemond atop Vhagar who appeared in what seemed like a split second. Your heartbeat quickened and you reached for Lucerys once more, except something was blinding you this time- headlights, that’s what was in your way. The beams of light raced down the street with no intention of slowing down. You would be worried about them hitting you if Luke wasn’t in between their path and you. Like before, you weren’t fast enough. Every step you took towards your brother seemed to push him father away.

“Lucerys, Move!” Your screams mingled with his as he turned too late. In what seemed like slow motion you watched as Luke rolled atop the car as it completely mangled his bike. Much to your horror, the driver slammed on their brakes, propelling Luke forward.

“No!” Your feet were moving before your brain could even process what happened, “ No, no, no, please no.”

The pavement cut into your knees as you knelt beside Luke. You pulled his head to rest on your knees, paying no mind to the blood that soaked through your pants. His eyes were open, yet lifeless. The vibrant green that they held before now shone as a dull gray. You leaned down to place your ear on his chest. Nothing. Not a single sound.

“ Lucerys please, you can’t leave me again, “ Your tears mixed with the rain, “ Come back to me, Ñuha prūmia”

“ You did well, Ñuha prūmia. Do not fret” Your sincere words traveled in one ear and out the other for Lucerys. Jace had beaten him at dueling practice yet again.

He scrunched his nose as your endearment, “ Must you call me that? It sounds girly.”

“It is a simple endearment, I mean no harm to your pride. I refer to you as my heart in the same manner that I call Jacaerys my soul” You explain softly, reaching over to ruffle his curls.

“What is Joffrey then?”

“I’m not sure,” You hum in thought, “ Perhaps he is my mind.”

He peers up at you in curiosity, “Which of the three would you say that you can not live without?”

“Mhm, my heart would be the answer. I fear I’d go mad if I ever lost you.” His cherubic smile faded to a bloody gasp. The sight alone smothered out the fire in your heart and set off a drum in your skull.

“ Is he alright? I couldn’t see him through the rain. I swear- oh gods…” Whilst still regaining focus where you sat on Storms End Avenue, you looked up to see none other than Aemond Targaryen speaking to you through the rain. His hair lay limp against his face, almost covering the grim expression he held, which seemed to darken as you came into view. You gently laid Lucerys’s head on the road below before standing on shaky legs.

“ Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me it was an accident, not again” You advanced toward Aemond until the tip of your finger dug into his chest. The patience you once had now worn thin and making way for eons of repressed anger and guilt.

Confusion danced across Aemond’s face, “ Again? What are you talking about-”

“Stop acting like you do not know!” You screamed, shoving him backward, “ I am tired of everyone acting like they know nothing when everything else is happening according to the past!”

“We can talk this out, just calm down” Aemond almost sounded like he was pleading as he reached out for you, but in truth, Aemond never pleaded to anyone. Not even the woman he claimed to love.

"Calm down?! I am to watch my brothers be murdered AGAIN and you want me to CALM DOWN?! You are wrong if you think I will sit by an.. and.. a-", the longer you stood, the worse your vision got. At this point, the pounding in your head had gotten so loud that your vision swayed. Through the dark spots blotting your eyes, you could see silhouettes of dragons dancing in the clouds and the water surrounding you turning red. Everything began to feel weightless, except your head of course.

“ Woah, hey” Aemond was there to catch you as you crumbled, “ Keep your eyes open for me, okay? I’m going to call for help, but I need you to stay awake.”

You tried to stay awake, you really did, but it was all too much. The weight of it all dragged you into the darkness without a fight. It was hours before you awoke, and when you did it was in a hospital bed. A warm weight against your leg is the first thing your brain registers. Well, that and the blinding white hue of the hospital walls.

"Luke.." your throat was dry and scratchy, almost as if you had been screaming for days. Your eyes surveyed the room wearily until they landed on Jace. He must have been the warmth you were feeling. His arms lay atop the bed next to you, crossed snuggly beneath his head. You could tell the skin around his eyes was puffy and red despite them being closed. He had been crying, but over what? Was it Luke? Had last night not been just another nightmare of the past? You reached out, brushing against Jacaerys arm lightly, but still firm enough to rouse him from his sleep.

His eyes fluttered for a moment before fully snapping open, "You're awake!"

" I don't remember falling asleep.." you spoke in true confusion.

Jace's eyes seemed to soften, whether or not it was in pity or sadness you did not know," You didn't fall asleep, you collapsed. Aemond brought you in-"

" and Luke? " A part of you couldn't help but be hopeful. If you couldn't remember passing out, then perhaps Luke's death was a hallucination of your foggy memory as well. Even if the look in Jace's eyes already told you differently.

" They said he was dead upon impact. Aemond killed him." your heartbeat picked up on the monitor as Jace spoke, "I know it's not what you want you to hear, and that you love Aemond, but it's true."

"Aemond claims that he didn't see him in time. That the rain made the roads too slick and that he lost control of the car, but he’s lying" Jace seethed, paying no mind to your reaction.

"Jace-"

His eyes held fire and the smallest hint of disbelief as they flickered back to you, "Please don't defend him. Whatever you're going to say, just don't. My mother has already retaliated and I've opened a lawsuit against Aemond. There's nothing else you can say."

" You don't know that unless you let me speak" You waited for a beat of silence before continuing, "I was not going to defend Aemond. On the contrary, I was going to tell you that it wasn't an accident. It's just like before."

Jace s eyes widened, " Like before? Has Aemond killed someone else?"

You shake your head quickly, "No, not this lifetime. You misunderstand, I'm talking about when he killed Lucerys the first time."

" I'm not sure what you're talking about. None of this has ever happened before-"

The patience you once had before Lucerys's death is now long gone, "-Yes it has! You just have to remember, like Luke did. I need you to remember Jace, please, before the same happens to you."

Jace leans forward to encase both of your shaking hands," If it's the lawsuit that troubles you, then you need not worry. Nothing is going to happen to me. I've taken many precautions. Otto Hightower has agreed to meet us halfway to our beach house in Dragonstone to receive the papers. He's bringing Criston Cole as a witness and I'm bringing Corlys. Everything will run smoothly."

Halfway to Dragonstone, the gullet. You sucked in a trembling breath as images of Jacaerys' arrow-riddled body flashed before your eyes. He was close to his death and yet he didn't remember, not like Lucerys did. You were the only one left with the knowledge of what was to come… Or So you thought.

#hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen angst #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #lucerys velaryon #lucerys x reader #velaryon reader #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon!reader #Lucerys Velaryon x velaryon!reader #hotd angst #angst

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estiebestieban · 2 months

Note

omg your tags were ABSOLUTELY PERFECT! you understood exactly what i was trying to say in my post and i truly appreciate that.

of course no one HAS to like esteban but whenever i see someone hate on him i just want to ask "why?". because pretty much 99% of the time their reasoning for hating on esteban is based off one of the narratives that has been thoroughly disproved, not just in my post (i don't think that highly of myself lmao) but in many testimonies over the years. i've even seen people say they don't really know anything about him and then just write paragraphs of lies to justify their dislike of someone they OPENLY ADMIT they could be wrong about! and if their whole basis for hating on a driver is based on a bunch of lies, then what's left once the falsehoods are deconstructed you know? (and if you're one of the 1% then go ahead - i can't stop you lmao!)

also i actually had written a line about how esteban's teammates, who have all been VERY TALENTED when it comes to getting the media on their side, have absolutely used this negative perception of esteban to boost themselves (i even had interview quotes from fernando and pierre at the ready and was trying to find some from checo) but i ended up removing it because i didn't want to be accused of using my post to hate on the aforementioned drivers. because of course my extensively researched and cited 1000+ word essay that i spent hours on and collaborated with multiple blogs was all written for a single line in which i "hate" on two drivers...

there are definitely times where i wish that esteban would play the media game and speak his truth (and i think he's actually testing the waters a bit with very reasonable statements). but that's not how he wants to approach things and i have so much respect for that. and considering all the team principals (including his very likely future team principal ayao komatsu) and other paddock members have vouched for him over the years, i think it was the right decision.

anyways sorry for another mini-essay in your ask box but i just wanted to say thanks again for your tags <3

You're so right for your post and you're always invited into my askbox for mini (or full length tbh) essays because you get it!!! (As do all other esteban stans I've seen on here cheers to like all five of us.

As a Dutch fan, the one question I get asked most is "Oh you must be a Max fan, right?" and when my answer is no, people go down the list of possible drivers I could be a fan of, but somehow they never say Esteban. When I say I'm an Alpine fan, the gut punch response is always "Oh, Fernando/Pierre, I get it."

While there is nothing wrong inherently wrong with assuming favourites, it's wild to me that even when I narrow it down to three possible drivers, Esteban still isn't even considered.

Even when I'm surrounded by major fans of the sport, the concept of Esteban having a genuine fan is foreign to people. I understand that most people around me view the sport through the lens of the Viaplay vision (and previously ZiggoSport) which favours Max to the extreme, and who couldn't give less fucks about other drivers. Esteban is hardly mentioned during broadcast, and when he is, it is always in a negative way (that's what happens when you take out the golden boy once I guess)

I've had this discussion time and time again, where I point out that Esteban drives in a similar style like Fernando - but where Fernando is praised for his balls and his attitude, Esteban is shoved aside as reckless and a danger. Where Max is hailed as the second coming of Christ, Esteban is deemed as a liability on track.

Why? Because he isn't considered charismatic enough? Even when he has countless fun and endearing interviews?

The media continues to cut Esteban out of the narrative wherever they can. An example would be people pushing the Pierre/Charles friendship for a dramatic tale of childhood friends turned competitors, but they leave out Esteban time and time again - like we don't have various images showing their closeness during their karting days.

Also, we forget way too often that Esteban and Max were rookies together in f3 in 2014 who both skipped f2 to go straight to f1. Only one of them won f3 that year, and it wasn't Max

#sorry this is just rambling i should be sleeping #but i rise to defend my man on main any given day #esteban ocon

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anisaanisa · 11 months

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Drawtober 2023 (Now on AO3)

[Series Tag] [Art Tag] [FAQs Below the Cut]

Who: Hi I'm Anisa and I'm feral for feudal fairy tales :)　

What: Drawtober is a label for a project that comprised of a theme, and a list of ideas. If you wanna see the thoughts behind those themes, I've attached some meta notes over on AO3. For nifty purposes.

When: Right now. I've also taken the liberty of compliling my 2023 Pride Month series in a similar format, and will likely continue to do so whenever the urge strikes/the shoe fits.

Where: Specifically on my Artnisa pseudoname. Previously, this was exclusive to collabs where I was the arteest and had no hand in the writing. I may choose to shift gears somewhere down the line, but for now, that's where they'll be.

Why: Fandom, as a contruct, is ever-changing, and Tumblr, the frontline of such a construct, is doing the most to kill desktop navigation whilst speed-running the Focus Theft Race; pair that with a testy search function, ever-evolving "porn bots" sniping tag usability, it can be a 'mare finding fanworks out there, in the Tumblr dot com wilds, let alone attempting to create some form of personal archive in the comfort of your own blog. So, as the Internet shifts, like all cultures do, it feels high time to start archiving properly. On the archive. For posterity and such.

How: Laughable that the only mention of this guide on Tumblr exists in the form of a button on the aformentioned desktop navigation, but here's a beginner friendly tutorial on how to add images to AO3 for any writers/artists that would like to learn how to do so. Plus some other fun stuff in and around it. Of course :D

Bonus Fun Fact: There's a black & white image under each post, though I added no context. When I'm done with something that toes the semi-realism lines like this lot, I like to turn RGB off to see how my values (light and shadows, essentially) turned out. I paint in colour, so seeing that the light was Just Right when said colour is no longer there to lean on is like a little reward. I just think they're neat. Thank you :)

Bonus Bonus Fact: There is a 753 word strong ficlet hidden in there, somwhere :3

Forehead smooches 💋🤸‍♂️

#ㄟ(≧◇≦)ㄏ #drawtober #posts to keep #as all ideas go i have percolated too long and went 110%#inuyasha #kagome #miroku #sango #kikyo #yura #inuyasha fanart #犬夜叉 #animanga #fanart #artists on tumblr #and now on AO3 #artnisa

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ingravinoveritas · 8 months

Note

I just want to say I love your blog- I came across it last night and completely went down the rabbit hole and completely convinced of the MS/DT love. I wanted to know what you thought of this video

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8p7x9jV/

Even the mere mention of his name that is not appearing to be about Michael Sheen, David makes it about him and lights up. What do you think about how David reacts in interviews, shows etc where either David brings him up on his own or he comes up and he reacts? I see his demeanor change almost instantly. I feel that people don’t see as much of this coming from David and even though it’s not as obvious as Michael, it’s really there.

Hi there! Well thank you so much for the kind words about my blog--I'm always happy to know folks like what I am doing and are enjoying my ridiculous posts. I really appreciate it!

That video you linked to is a great one, and one I have talked about previously on my blog. I'll put my gifs up here so we have a visual reference:

The first thing (of course) that stood out to me was this random fan mentioning his friend, and immediately David thought of Michael. Because there are a lot of Michaels in the world, after all. Michael Caine. Michael Myers. George Michael, even. And yet David's mind went straight to Michael Sheen--his Michael--and that seems so telling.

I also have a tag on my blog for the many instances of David and Michael bringing each other up when the other isn't there, as that is also one of my favorite things. There are a lot of wonderful examples there, but I think one that is really worth checking out is a podcast David was on two years ago with fellow actor Paapa Essiedu. Paapa brought up Michael earlier in the interview, but later on it's David who brings him up, and there is such impossible fondness in his voice when he talks about him.

(I think this also ties into something I've discussed a few times on my blog, which is David feeling more comfortable opening up when doing an audio interview where we can't see him, versus a video interview where we can. A supposition that rings particularly true in the case of David's own podcast episode where he interviewed Michael in 2019.)

One of the most memorable things David said in the interview with Michael is, "You're an honest version of how I'm feeling." Five years ago, this seemed especially true because David was so much more reserved than Michael--less obvious, as you said--but in no way did that mean his feelings were less strong. What we see now in David's reactions when Michael is brought up--that shift in demeanor, that complete softness he emanates in a way he doesn't with others--is the externalization of something that was always there on the inside.

In that vein, I want to make sure your second Ask doesn't go unaddressed, as the NTAs are another vivid example of David's softness around Michael, and to date, still one of the most special nights in the fandom. I've written about a lot of my thoughts on it in detail, so I invite you to check out my #NTA Awards 2021 tag for a whole lot of analysis and discourse.

I hope this helps to answer your questions. Thanks for writing in! x

#killerqueen-82 #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david is definitely more subtle than Michael #but he knows how to speak volumes without saying a word #one very visible example is how often he physically leans in to Michael #which we don't seem to see him do with a lot of people #he seeks comfort from Michael #so much warmth and affection #beautiful #a friendship that's become something more #i don't know if i believe in fate but i believe in them #basingstoke comic con 2023 #ineffable lovers #discourse #gifs by me

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tj-dragonblade · 1 year

Text

[FIC] Caribbean Sunset

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling (Hob x Dream) Rated: E Word Count: 5496 Tags: Human AU, PWP, cruise ship, Service Top Hob, Enthusiastic Bottom Dream, Dream is not quiet in bed, there is a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet at one point, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, bossy Dream, agreeable Hob, outdoor sex, potential for unintended exhibitionism, a brief moment of thrill-seeking sex w heights involved, blatant disregard for typical human refractory periods, effusive endearments, a brief turn of Top Dream/Bottom Hob, background Hob & Johanna, Hob and Johanna are besties, mention of swinging and f/f/f threesome

Notes: A fill for the monthly smut prompts posted up by the lovely @staroftheendless - this is directly inspired by Smutember day 10 (cruise ship) and also makes use of Smutember day 12 (sunset) and, if I wanted to be technical, I could also say it pulls in Smaugust day 31 (ocean) by default. I was so sure I could do this as an under-1K quick fill. They, as usual, had other ideas.

Summary: Hob hooks up with a beautiful stranger on a Caribbean cruise

On AO3

His stranger's back hits the full-length window with a thud, and the sound he makes disappears into Hob's eager mouth. His arms are around Hob's neck, fingers tangled in his hair, bare legs gripping tight about Hob's hips. Hob's hands are splayed on the backs of his thighs, moving under to grab his own cock now that the laminated glass is doing the work of holding the guy up; Hob double-checks that the condom is properly in place and then he's lining himself up, pushing in, tight wet heat sinking down around him.

His stranger's head knocks back against the glass, a long moan rising out of his throat, and he makes a practiced, fluid motion with his hips that seats Hob that last inch smoothly inside him. "Fuck me," he orders desperately, that low voice strung tight and breathless, "oh god, Hob, fuck me—"

And Hob, well. He's hardly inclined to refuse, obviously, and so he obeys, a few careful strokes to establish the balance and the rhythm, and then he's railing his stranger senseless—fucking up into him hard and fast, panting into his pretty red mouth, pinning him against the glass and drowning in the way he wails his pleasure.

Hob can hardly believe he's actually here.

Two nights already they had been flirting on this cruise, escalating rather quickly from heated eye contact to suggestive conversation in the lounge to the clearest possible signals of raging interest and intent. Twice Hob had been ready to bed this seductive siren of a stranger who coyly refused him a name and twice he'd been cock-blocked by Johanna, with whom he'd previously agreed to barhop the entirety of the ship, whom he'd 'promised karaoke time, c'mon Hobsie, don't leave me hanging—'

But tonight he'd told her she was on her own, and his beautiful stranger had dragged him back out of the lounge as soon as they'd spotted one another, promising him a drink from the bar in his suite if Hob was 'truly that thirsty for alcohol'.

His stranger's suite turned out to be the royal suite, the grandest accommodation on the ship, but Hob had no thought for appreciating the luxury of it when his stranger had slammed him up against the inside of the door while still sliding his keycard into the power slot, kissing him fiercely. They'd shed clothes all through the entryway, kissing like they were starved for one another the entire time, winding up naked in the doorway to the bedroom—where his stranger had retrieved lube and condoms and herded Hob back out to the main room.

"I do not wish to be had in the bed," he'd said then, breathlessly aroused but still haughty as anything, the 'I've spent ungodly amounts of money on this enormous suite and I should like to be railed against every option it offers' clear in his tone. So Hob had pushed him down on the plush sofa in the middle of the main room and swallowed his pretty pink cock until he came, had spread him like a feast on the private dining table and eaten him out until he was hard again and singing Hob's praises, had bent him over the bar and fingered him all the way open until he was sobbing and demanding Hob's cock.

And now Hob is balls-deep in his beautiful stranger, who is plastered against the glass door to the verandah making noises like he's getting fucked within an inch of his life.

Which, of course, he is, if Hob may say so himself.

The curtains are wide open, giving Hob a view over the deck and the rail to the dying Caribbean sunset beyond—which he's sure is gorgeous, but he's rather more enamored with the way that that light paints his stranger's pale skin with liquid gold, the glint of it off his tousled ebony hair, how it casts the vivid kiss-bitten red of his open mouth in sultry shadow.

"Just look at you," Hob gasps, fucking hard and fast up into tight heat, utterly wrecked by the sight before him. "Christ, you're beautiful, I'm the luckiest bloke on this goddamn ship—"

"Hob—ahh—Hob, Hob—!" His stranger is moaning his name on every thrust, arched back against the glass and clinging fiercely around Hob's shoulders, thighs trembling where they grip his hips. He's so open and responsive, so noisy, Hob can't get enough and he shoves up close again, buries the sound of his name beneath the weight of his tongue in his stranger's mouth, fierce and wet and adoring.

And then his stranger lets go of him with one hand, swipes along the glass and scrabbles for the door latch, wrenches the lock open and tears his mouth free of Hob's. "Outside," he gasps, wrapping arms and legs tight about Hob again. "Take me outside—"

Hob hefts him off the door and sweeps it open, stumbles out onto the spacious verandah. There is a private hot tub out here and doesn't that hold a lot of fun possibilities, but Hob will think about that another time. Because his stranger is bouncing himself slightly on Hob's cock like he just can't wait for Hob to start fucking him properly again, little 'ah' noises in his throat each time he comes down, and it's making it so hard to keep his balance, let alone walk or actually give the guy what he so desperately wants. It's a relief when he squirms down on Hob's cock and stays put, tilts in for a brief kiss that is more biting-and-licking than actual proper kiss. "Put me on the railing," he breathes, right into Hob's mouth, and okay. Alright. He can do that.

Somewhat.

The railing is tall enough to hit his stranger low on his back as they're currently situated, a little too high for Hob to actually perch him up there and still be able to fuck him, not without a step. So he presses up against the railing as-is, crowds in close to his stranger again, grip firm around his thighs because he's suddenly registering that is a bloody long drop to the ocean below, especially from the top deck of the goddamn ship, where this ridiculously posh suite is of course located.

The last thing he wants to do is drop the guy overboard in the middle of sex; the thought is a bit of a moodkiller, to be sure. And yet his beautiful fuck-hungry partner seems not the least bit bothered by the possibility, letting go of Hob to grasp the railing tightly, leaning himself back out over the emptiness as much as he can, legs locked tight around Hob.

"Careful," Hob can't help saying, a frisson of alarm curling underneath his raging arousal.

"Yes," his stranger agrees, head dropping back so that he's gazing upside-down at the dusky sky, at the fading molten line where it meets the sea, and then he writhes his hips, impatient. "Hob," he whines, and damned if his name in that voice doesn't make Hob just a little bit feral.

Fine, alright. The guy wants a little adrenaline rush with his sex; Hob can respect that, and his dick is certainly happy enough to start fucking again, his stranger's arse still slick and warm and tight around him. He loses himself in it for a minute, the heat, the slide, the open air, the guy's cock jutting stiffly between them, the beautiful pale arch of his stranger's neck as he hangs back over open space, the soft little moans he's making from this angle and the way they would suddenly turn to shrieking screams if he fell back and over—

God damn it.

His stranger lifts himself upright again quite suddenly, a graceful fluid display of extremely sexy core strength that completely disrupts Hob's faltering rhythm.

"What's wrong?" he demands, breathless and urgent, blue eyes narrowed, pretty mouth turned down slightly.

God, but that pout looks good on him. Hob swallows. "Bit terrified I'll drop you over, actually. Can't get it out of my head?"

His stranger's expression smooths out, the little wrinkle of consternation disappearing as the pout morphs into a smoldering half-lidded gaze of pure lust. "My Hob," he purrs, leaning forward, draping his arms around Hob's neck, tilting in, "so wonderfully. Chivalrous—" The word brushes straight into Hob's mouth, followed by the wet curl of his stranger's tongue, the kiss thorough and deep, fingers combing through Hob's hair, his stranger's prick nestled into the thick fur of Hob's belly.

And then he's lifting himself off of Hob's cock, unwrapping his legs, sliding down and stepping back. Hob lists after him blindly, helplessly, dizzy from the kiss and already missing the grip of his partner's body. "I'm sorry; I wasn't trying to stop things—"

His stranger presses those slender fingers to his mouth. "You haven't." He kisses Hob again fiercely and then he's turning around, leaning forward against the rail and angling another of those coy smoldering looks over his shoulder. "Have me like this, instead." He arches his back, legs wide, presenting his arse, and oh-kay, Hob's on board, definitely, much safer this way with everyone's feet on the ground. Yes. His hands are already on his stranger's cheeks, spreading him open, displaying his slick and well-fucked hole to the light flooding through the windows behind them in the rising dusk and Hob takes half a second to just appreciate such a beautiful sight before he lines his cock up and slides it neatly home, all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust.

"Yes," his stranger moans, rocking back against him, clenching around him, "Hob, yes, yes—"

Hob grasps his pretty little hips in both hands and fucks.

The sky is deep blue overhead, purpling toward the horizon, faintly pink still where the sun has just sunk below; the noise of the deck party at the other end of the ship is faint, barely audible, and there is nothing but the sound of the waves, the endless stretch of darkening ocean around them, billions of stars twinkling into view and Hob gets it. He gets why his stranger brought them outside, why he hung over the edge, why he wants to get railed over the railing (heh). The vastness of the sea and sky is exhilarating, invigorating; he feels small and inconsequential yet so damned alive he thinks he might burst, and fucking is the best thing he could possibly do about it.

His stranger is moaning beautifully, low and lilting, is gripping the rail and thrusting back to meet him and Hob is maybe just a little bit in love already. He slides a hand around, grasps his stranger's cock just to hear his voice rise, strokes it because he can't not. It's such a perfect prick, shapely and slender-tipped, thick at the base and exactly the right length to ride on and Hob wants it inside him very badly next time, if there is in fact a next time. For now he's content just to stroke it, to savor the feel of it in his grip and the way his stranger positively writhes forward into his hand and back onto his cock.

And then his stranger slides a hand over Hob's, twines them together briefly around himself before lifting Hob's hand away, bringing it up to his chest. "I will come untouched," he declares breathlessly, and well, okay. That is both flattering and intimidating, the implicit expectation that Hob can and will fuck him so well he doesn't need his cock stroked to finish—but Hob has never been one to shy from a challenge, especially when there's orgasms involved.

"Putting a lot of faith in me, love," he says, teasing, slowing his thrusts just for variation, and gets himself another coy over-the-shoulder glance for it.

"I am certain it is not misplaced," his stranger says, a little moan on the final vowel thanks to Hob's cock sliding into him again.

"Heh. As you wish, then," Hob demurs, still fucking slow and smooth, and since his hand is resting on his stranger's chest, he moves his thumb in search of a nipple. The noise the guy makes when he finds it is startlingly loud; charmed, Hob flicks over it again and his stranger gives a shuddering whine, wriggles backwards on Hob's cock.

Of course he has sensitive nipples too; he is so utterly perfect in every way and Hob absolutely has to fuck him harder about it, slamming his cock home while his fingers dance over the ripened bud on his stranger's chest. His moans are getting high and loud as Hob takes him apart, unmistakable if anyone were to overhear, which. The suite is designed for privacy, sure, but his voice is really carrying and it's not unthinkable that the nearest neighbors might be getting an earful if they're out on their verandahs. Hob debates for a second, but when his next thrust jolts a high sharp cry from his stranger, he abandons the nipple and wraps his hand over the guy's mouth instead, muffling his voice.

"Alright then?" he asks, leaning close, lips along the back of his stranger's ear, and gets a desperate whine in answer, a nod jerked against his hold. They carry on another moment, lost in the heated slide and slap of their bodies, Hob's blood rising with every second. He lets go of the pale slender hip he's been holding on to and grasps the railing right next to his stranger's white-knuckled grip, leaning into him, still covering his mouth, and the shift in angle is apparently exactly what was needed to get the guy there. He shudders and throws his head back onto Hob's shoulder, twists under Hob's hand and sinks his teeth into the meat of it between thumb and forefinger, the high keening sound he's making now still effectively muffled. The bite doesn't hurt, just spurs Hob on really, and when the guy starts to tremble, then shake, he doubles his efforts, hammering hard. "C'mon, sweetheart," he pants, low and breathless, lips brushing the shell of a pale ear. "Come for me, darling, there's a love—"

His stranger spasms, goes rigid, wails into the palm of Hob's hand as his orgasm hits.

Hob slams in deep and holds there, runs his lips along the taut line of that pale neck, shivering at the way the other's arse grips him tight, clenching rhythmically with his release. Doubtless he's spattering all over the plexiglass of the rail, dripping on the deck, but cleanup will be a later problem.

When his stranger goes limp, Hob eases back, pushes carefully into him again, and the resulting moan is low, softer, sated. Hob's hand is released and he drops it to the guy's hip, thumb caressing the dip of his waist as he fucks in slow and smooth again.

"I can stop, if you like," he offers, unsure if his stranger is the type who still enjoys getting fucked in the aftermath of orgasm or the type who can't take the ongoing stimulation.

"I would prefer you continue. However—" Abruptly, his stranger has drawn off of Hob's cock and turned around, is pushing him backwards until he stumbles and falls onto one of the sun loungers on the deck, which are much plusher than the ones in the common pool areas. "A change of position would please me immensely." And he swings himself down to straddle Hob's lap, wriggles his arse over Hob's prick and sheaths him back inside with ease.

The incline angle of the lounger is perfect, makes it easy to reach up and pull his stranger down to kiss, easy to grasp his hips and let him move. And move he does, effortless and smooth, a sultry roll that has Hob's toes curling while the guy's tongue is practically dancing in his mouth, slender fingers carding behind his ears and angling his head into the kiss, which somehow gets even better.

He lifts away a long moment later, presses short little pecks to either of Hob's parted lips and darts his tongue briefly in between them, a lingering tease of farewell before he straightens up, still leaning forward. He's holding Hob's eyes, unblinking, intent, and the roll of his hips turns insistent, rising and falling on Hob's length in a heavy, steady rhythm.

It's a little surreal, sprawled in the lazy embrace of the sun lounger, stars blanketing the heavens overhead, the warm night air and the wafting breeze, the shush of the waves against the hull far below, the beautiful fey creature in his lap, limned in soft golden light from the uncurtained windows. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin by now from exertion, and it makes him practically glow as he rides Hob's cock, alive and ethereal and untouchable, and absolutely sexy as fuck.

"How are you even real," Hob breathes, reverent, awed, hips pulsing up in soft counterpoint and the heat in his belly swimming, spreading.

His beautiful stranger gives a sultry little whine, mouth turning down the slightest bit. "How are you not coming yet?"

Hob blinks.

"Your stamina is unbelievable. Men usually pop for me very quickly. I am not accustomed to working quite so hard for it."

There is a tease underneath the complaining tone, and the corner of Hob's mouth lifts in a roguish answering grin. "Can't help it, gorgeous. My partner should get off before I even think about my own pleasure."

Those incredibly blue eyes actually roll. "Hob Gadling." Yes, he'd given the guy his full name that first night, and clearly he'd remembered it. "Your chivalry is—misplaced, at this point. I have come twice by your talents, yet you seem—intent on making it three, while you have yet to finish once. I will have your orgasm, now, and then—ahh—I would have you carry me to bed and stay the night."

Hob loses his rhythm at that. "You…want me to stay?"

"The shower is sensual, and spacious. I would have you there, in the morning, and then perhaps you might join me for breakfast?" His tone is the haughty-imperious thing that had tied Hob's insides in knots the first night, but it's shot through with a fleeting thread of unexpected vulnerability.

"That sounds absolutely divine," Hob says, something warm blooming in the vicinity of his heart. He knows he's falling too hard too fast but fuck it—he'll worry about that when the cruise is over. He wants to pull this beautiful creature into his arms, kiss him senseless, roll them over and fuck him tenderly until he comes again, and then maybe come himself. But the width of the lounger doesn't allow for a graceful roll and he's not about to disrupt things to the point needed to get this guy underneath him.

"Talk to me," he says instead, running his hands from hips to ribs and back again, a soft caress. "Your voice does things to me. It'll help, if you've truly worn yourself out on my cock." He winks.

"Not quite," the guy smirks, and starts moving again. He is quiet a moment, and then: "I pleasured myself, while thinking of you," he says, undulating on Hob's dick like it's the easiest thing in the world. "The other night, after your charming friend dragged you away. You had aroused me terribly; I came back here and thought of you, writhing in my bed with my hand on my prick and my fingers in my arse, imagining how you might do it instead."

"Shit," Hob gasps, the words sparking new heat in his gut, making him harder. He's staring up into his stranger's beautiful face, utterly mesmerized by the intensity he sees there in the light that spills from the windows alongside them.

"I was frustrated, last night, when you left me again," he says, picking Hobs hands from his hips, twining their fingers together, leaning forward to gently pin them beside Hob's head, his rhythm faster, still flawless. "Aroused, aflame, abandoned by the one I desired. I engaged with an American gentleman who was eager to take me back to his stateroom and suck me off. I pretended his mouth was yours."

Hob whimpers, well on his way to orgasm, spurred on by his stranger's confessions. He raises his knees and plants his feet on the lounge, giving himself leverage to thrust properly in counterpoint and his stranger lights up atop him.

"But tonight—ahh—tonight, I have you in truth, at last, and you are—exceeding, my expectations, and—and—ohh, you are going to make me come again, Hob—!" He untangles his fingers from Hob's and buries them in Hob's hair, plunges his tongue into Hob's open mouth with a whine, kissing hot and wet and desperate as he bounces his hips fiercely in Hob's lap. They are slamming together now hard and fast, the kiss turning into openmouthed panting against one another, swallowing each other's little noises; Hob's hands are tangling in his stranger's artfully-messy hair, scrabbling down his back, seizing his arse and spreading his cheeks, holding him open and still as he fucks up into him relentlessly. His own orgasm is looming, building, so close he can taste it but his stranger has said he's about to come again and Hob will make it happen first.

The guy's almost quiet about it, this time; his body goes tense atop Hob's in very short order and he moans into Hob's mouth, a thin, warbling sound that strains out of his throat. "Don't stop, don't stop," he manages, as Hob holds deep to let him ride it out, so he starts thrusting again while the guy is still coming and that's just about all it takes. His stranger's moan ends on a gasp, and then a series of sharp sobs as Hob fucks him through it, keeps him trembling at the height of climax while fiercely chasing his own. He nips at the guy's open mouth, heedless of the saliva drooling from his quivering lower lip, seeks out the luscious wet of that tempting tongue with his own.

It's exquisite, exhilarating, erotic, and Hob's body has completely slipped its leash, pistoning up into his stranger with abandon, pleasure rising like floodwaters. He moans as it starts to hit, lamenting that he still doesn't know this guy's name and then he's up over the precipice and falling, spilling into his stranger's shaking body with a choked cry. "I'm coming, love, I'm coming," he gasps, earning another sob; his hands are tight on the guys arse, holding him down, holding the two of them crushed together while he empties himself at long last.

It lets him go in a rush and he goes limp, his stranger collapsing on top of him, burying his face in Hob's throat. Hob wraps unsteady arms around him, cradles him close, both of them silent while they catch their breath.

He stirs only to reach down and take care of the condom as he softens; once it's tied off and set aside, he's holding his stranger again. The guy hasn't moved, except to burrow a little closer, and Hob is thoroughly enamored with how cuddly he's becoming in the aftermath of what was, quite frankly, incredible sex.

He gives him a few moments before he shifts, bringing a hand to cup the back of his skull, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "Still alive, there?"

The guy stirs, lifts his head, brushes his lips lingeringly across Hob's. "Not even a little bit."

Hob cards his fingers underneath his beautiful stranger's sweat-damp hair, strokes his scalp, easing down to his nape. He presses the tiniest kiss against the red of the guy's upper lip on one side, soft and affectionate.

"Love, sweetheart, precious…what's your name?" He turns into an absolute sap once he's come. He can't help it.

His stranger gives him that same coy little smile that's been tying him in knots since two days ago, but it's softer and sweeter around the edges now, which. Is somehow much, much worse.

"I like the things you call me because you don't know."

Hob's heart trips lightly in his chest. "If you're fond of petnames, darling, I promise you've not heard the last of them from me. Still love to have your real name?"

His stranger's smile softens to something that looks incredibly fond.

"Stay?" he says, in lieu of an answer, tucking his face back into Hob's throat. "The bed is spacious, and quite comfortable."

Hob is so far gone already, it's a little pathetic, but again, he can't help it. For the sake of his own dignity, though, he's trying very hard not to crumble immediately. "If I stay, will you tell me your name in the morning?"

"Perhaps." The coy smugness is crystal clear.

Hob caves. "Fine, okay, yes. Let's get you to bed."

"And you will stay?"

"'Course, love. I'll stay." He swings himself around and upright, his stranger still cuddled in his lap and clinging like a limpet, and somehow summons the strength to stand.

He carries him to bed as requested, pushes back the covers and lays him down, and when he moves to straighten up the guy holds on with a low little whine of protest. "Ho~ob."

It's adorable, honestly. "In a tick, love," he says, gently disengaging those gorgeous arms from around his neck. And then, as an afterthought, he smooches him on the forehead.

It takes him a minute to find his trousers out in the main area and retrieve his phone to text Johanna, but it turns out she's beat him to it.

Eyyy, Hobsie! Y'know my cute little shirt with the pineapples and flamingos on it? Turns out that's code-signaling for swingers, who knew? Anyway I met this AMAZING couple, gorgeous gals, spending the night, don't wait up. Ta!

Hob smiles, shakes his head, fires off a quick reply.

Hey Jo - lemme know you're still alive when you wake up. Hope you had fun? Found my pretty stranger; he's invited me for breakfast. I'll be back in time for the excursion.

He turns his phone off, slips back into the bedroom and into the bed, where his stranger immediately snuggles close, rubbing his face in Hob's chest hair like a cat. "Goodnight, Hob," he murmurs, and Hob's heart does a soft little somersault.

Yeah, he's got it bad, and he doesn't really care.

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Sweet dreams."

His stranger snorts a little sound that might be a giggle, and Hob drifts off in short order with this beautiful man in his arms and a smile on his face.

~~~ In the morning, he discovers that the shower is indeed as opulent as promised, and that his gorgeous stranger is very good with his hands. And his mouth.

Also, his name is Dream, which Hob finally learns while crowding the guy up against the glass of the shower wall after, mouth on his slender white neck and hand around his perfect cock.

There is a certain decadent hedonism in taking breakfast buck naked with his stranger—with Dream—in his lap after orgasms in the shower, at the same table he'd eaten Dream out on the night before. It's a shame he must excuse himself directly after, but he's promised to meet Johanna in time for their shore excursion today.

Serendipitously, Dream has booked the same excursion, swimming with the dolphins in St. Thomas—it's a lot of fun, and Jo is a very good sport about the added company. She does excuse herself as soon as they've reboarded that afternoon, though, since 'the ladies invited me back tonight and I am absolutely taking them up on it, thanks.'

Dream draws Hob aside by the forward elevator bay, pulls him into a short but steamy kiss, slips a keycard into his pocket and regards him from beneath coquettish black lashes. "I trust you can find your way back?"

"Oh yes," Hob breathes, and the heat stirred in him by the short exchange fuels him all the way back to his and Johanna's stateroom. He passes Jo on her way out, rolls his eyes with a smile at the leering finger-guns she gives him, and hurries through grabbing fresh clothes for the morning, his own toiletries, his phone charger.

Dream is nowhere to be seen when Hob lets himself back into the enormous posh suite, but the door to the deck is wide open, sea breeze wafting pleasantly through the room. Hob finds him out in the hot tub, jets frothing up the water, arms stretched out along the rim and head laid back to bare his throat temptingly, eyes closed. There are two glasses of wine in easy reach on the side of the tub.

"Hullo," Hob breathes, turned inside out all over again that this gorgeous charming creature has chosen his company.

Dream cracks open one eye, greets him with a slow curling smile. "My Hob." He shuts his eye again, arches back in a show of sensual indulgence. "Take your clothes off. Join me."

Hob doesn't need to be told twice.

Sitting naked in the hot tub with Dream, drinking wine and soaking away any cares, is a deliciously heady experience; when Dream sets aside his glass and drifts into Hob's lap to kiss him with gentle confidence, it becomes even more so. They spend a good half hour like this, Dream's lithe wet body in Hob's arms, Dream's elegant hands idly playing with the hair at Hob's nape, and on his chest, and on his arms. Their kisses are soft, wet, slow, a thorough and unhurried reacquaintance with one another after the day spent platonically, the frenzied passion of the night before.

The end result is much the same, regardless.

"Dream—" Hob is still so delighted to have a name "—Dream, darling, please tell me we can fuck again tonight," he breathes, enraptured by the way Dream's hard cock is idly bumping against his beneath the warm water.

"My apologies, Hob," Dream says with a slow smile. "You made such exquisite use of me last night; I would prefer to allow myself another night to recover. However." His fingertips drag up the side of Hob's thigh, dance across his stomach to stroke over the head of his prick. "I know many other ways to…entertain you, for the evening." The purr in his voice and the sultry look on his face are such that Hob wouldn't be surprised if the water around them suddenly set in to boiling.

"You can entertain me any way you like," he says, a rush of anticipation fizzing up inside him as Dream strokes him slow and lazy. "But I am absolutely dying to get your beautiful prick inside me, if you're willing?"

Dream stills, draws back, looks at him with wide eyes, and it's clear this is not a request he's accustomed to hearing. "You would like…me, to fuck you?"

"Please," Hob breathes, viciously aroused by the way those words sound in that delicious mouth and a bit broadly pissed off at every guy who'd ever added up Dream's fancy words slight build and pretty face and assumed him a waifish twink who exclusively bottomed. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day. Please, please please please please—" he's leaning forward, each 'please' brushing Dream's parted lips "—sweetheart, let me sit on that brilliant cock? Or lay me out and spread me open and fill me up?"

Dream surges into him and seizes his face, kisses him fiercely, water sloshing all around them and over the sides. "Such things you say, Hob Gadling," he breathes, nipping at his lips in between his next words. "Up. Out. Wait for me over there."

Hob is, again, only too happy to obey, adjusting the sun lounger to lay flat, the breeze warm on his wet skin as he settles onto it. Dream returns with condom and lube and crawls over him, kissing, touching, and Hob learns exactly how talented those pale slender fingers are as they open him up with relentless skill.

The sun is settling into the sea when Dream finally pushes into him, full and perfect between his legs, mouthing kisses against Hob's hairy calf laid over his shoulder, warm everywhere that their bodies touch. The dying light paints him golden and vibrant, coppers and oranges playing on his skin; Hob soaks him in, the flawless rhythm he sets between them, the pleasure singing in his own veins, the sight of Dream leaning close above, aglow in the wash of the Caribbean sunset with adoration in his eyes as he gazes down at Hob, and Hob knows.

Whatever happens when the cruise is over, whatever follows his return to normal life—this holiday, the chance to connect with Dream, has been more than worth it, and will stay with him forever.

=== Started: 9/4/23 Drafted: 9/10/23 Posted: 9/13/23

Fun trivia: Jo's pineapples-and-flamingos discovery is 100% a real thing. An upside-down pineapple on your stateroom door (or your door at home) indicates willingness to swing/looking to swing/there's a swinging party happening here right now. In clothing it's apparently meant to be a little more subtle/covert, a way to start a conversation in that direction. Flamingos as a swinging indicator is usually more in context of plastic lawn ornaments at home or when camping, but will also get incorporated with the pineapple motif on cruise ships/tropical vacations. So depending on who her hookup couple is (Gaultienne? LuciMaze? I couldn't decide), when they spot obviously-single Johanna alone at the bar obliviously advertising that she Plays Well With Others they decide either she probably doesn't know and perhaps they should tell her, or to have a little fun at her expense. Jo strikes me as a woman of opportunity regardless.

Jo: You two got an insider's perspective on this, then? Jo: You looking for other swingers tonight? Jo: Because. *sips beer* Wouldn't say no, would I. 'F I got asked?

I am not writing this I wouldn't even know where to start with characterization brain stop feeding me snippets—

✨✨✨ Sequel: London Fog ✨✨✨

#Dreamling #Hob Gadling #Dream of the Endless #Sandman #TJs Fics #nsft

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

Note

happy 100 followers! may i request 2,4, 27, and 38 as well as 2 and 14 of the mature prompts with mysta and luca?

thank you, it's been very happy! i've actually been sitting on this one for a while, and you might notice the mature stuff isn't there. you see, i got a bit itchy about putting only the mature stuff under the read more and forcing people to look at this lengthy af post above the cut, plus i felt bad about having the sfw requests done for so long while the mature ones weren't. so once i finished the mature requests, i updated this post with a link underneath. i appreciate the requests!

part 2 here. not intended for minors. ↣

tags: established relationship, fluff, slightly suggestive, gender neutral reader, kissing in the rain, cuddling,

⚠️ making out in mysta 27

⚠️ minor arachnophobia mention in mysta 38

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🦊 Mysta Rias

2. surprise date

Mysta doesn’t need much to be happy. Don’t get him wrong, spending time with you in a shared space is a perfect routine. But he’s also spontaneous, and too much time in one location gets him stir crazy, even if it’s with someone he loves.

He gets home early one day, pecks you on the cheek, and tells you put on something pretty, we’re getting dinner. Then he’s out of the room just as quickly as he came, and when you step out ready to leave it’s like he’s been waiting for an eternity.

He takes your hand, and your arm slightly bounces from his grasp as you walk.

The scenery shifts from city to calm, until he leads you inside a restaurant, and it’s only when you’re seated on the patio that you realize it’s not a patio at all. Your feet rest on solid wood, but the sound of waves along the lakeside restaurant sets you at peace.

Your nose is buried in the menu until Mysta taps the corner of the laminated booklet. When you lower it, he gestures to where the sky meets the lake.

The world is glazed golden sunset. Rays of orange and red along the bleary sun as it sinks into glittering waters that reflect the sunset above.

"Cool," he says, as if the sparkling lemonade lake isn’t enough to take his breath away. He's more satisfied at your expression than the water. "I couldn’t remember if the sun was supposed to set now or an hour later."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

4. surprise hug

With utmost care, you slip past the door silently and creep into Mysta’s streaming room.

His desk is at the corner, facing the wall and the monitors against it. One screen displays stream options and statistics, while the other flickers to Mysta’s ending screen just in time. He bobs side to side in his chair, even though his model is no longer on stream. “Koninnit! Bye-bye, everyone, until next stream!”

He continues swaying in his seat for a few more seconds while the Mystakes click off of his channel. You inch closer. The room is a standard-size office, but the distance has never felt so monumental before. Each step is muffled against the carpeting.

When the screen goes black, Mysta sits still for a moment. Then his shoulders sink. He lets out a sigh, as he always does, how he grounds himself out of his stream persona and back into the real world.

He stretches, long arms reaching up to the ceiling. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up from gaming, and the muscles along his forearm flex as he extends.

You take the opportunity to swivel his chair around.

Mysta’s eyes, previously closed, widen in a shock of electric blue and peach as he yelps in surprise—

—And you wrap yourself around him, buried in his collar and hands around his back.

His posture is straight from the shock. You nuzzle closer to his neck. Your lips skim along the bare skin, not so much to be a kiss but more than enough to suggest one.

"I missed you," you hum, quiet in the absence of the stream. All to yourself, you and Mysta alone.

Mysta's shoulders relax. His arms roll down under your grasp, and he lets out a breath again. This time it's deep enough that his chest brushes against yours before lowering with the exhale. His fingers curl between your shirt and the ends of your hair. “I’m here.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

27. kissing in the rain

On your free day, you and Mysta decided to take advantage of the nicely cloudy weather and go on a walk away from the sun.

“Oh, great, it’s raining!”

“Hang on, okay? We’re almost home!”

And what once seemed like a good idea was cut short by a sudden, steady rain.

To be fair, it should’ve been expected. You had a sinking feeling it was too dark to be a simple cloudy day.

Whether you expected it or not, the rain pattered along your back as you lowered your head and sped up your pace. You already feel a shiver coming on.

“Don’t get lost.” Mysta takes your hand in his, while the other pulls his cap down over his face. His sunglasses are splattered with water, and so is his shirt. The wet fabric follows the contours of his body.

Your cheeks puff with mock indignation. “I’m not going to get lost, Mysta, I just want to get home!”

“Just making sure, okay? Let’s get you there. Hop up.”

He approaches a curb, and his shoes splash at a forming puddle as he helps you up. Gentlemanly, but you don’t need him to guide you like a child, either.

As the steady rain turns to a downpour, you keep an eye out at the shops along the way to your home. You focus on the jutting architecture, and how well it covers the ground below.

It doesn’t take you long to find an awning sandwiched between two stores in a shallow alleyway. The ground below is speckled with raindrops, but there are still patches of dry pavement underneath.

“This way, Reader—“

“I don’t think so,” you say, and before Mysta can lead you away, you divert and bring him to the alley instead.

Water still peppers your shoulders as you duck under the awning, but it’s much less than the rain beyond. Mysta shakes himself off like a dog, and it does nothing but pop his open collar out more. Rain drops down his neck and to his freshly exposed chest. “Do you really think we can wait it out—mmph!”

You’re not sure. You didn’t think further than kissing him stupid. His lips are slick with rainwater, and your tongue mixes it into saliva as you pry him apart, a hammer’s end to a nail.

Each curl of your tongue is another moment savored. Mysta: gentlemanly, caring Mysta, who wants to get you home safe and leads you along his way; and seems to have forgotten that you know how to deviate from the path with him following.

Mysta remembers now, and explores your mouth with the same familiarity as the path home he was so intent on walking before you made your move. Whatever he wanted to say, it’s nothing important, and he forgets it in favor of your taste, rainwater, mouths connected, your hand on his waist, the breath cold against his wet skin right above the lip you seem so eager to tear open and devour—

A splash of water breaks you before he does.

Your eyes snap open just in time to see a downpour of collected rain crash right over your bodies. You hiss like a witch while he squeaks like a mouse, and the slope of the awning only makes it worse, like sitting under a blurred waterfall.

You both gasp out loud, breathless and shocked, totally soaked down to the bone. Your hair hangs over your face, and you part it out of your eyesight in time to see Mysta react. The ears of his hat point downwards as he struggles to catch his breath.

The corners of your mouth raise, and the rainwater washes your adventurousness into embarrassment instead. You clumsily catch your breath. “Maybe we should get back out there again…”

Mysta snatches you up instead.

One greedy hand presses your back close to him, while the other guide your chin to stay by his trembling mouth. His skin is so cold but he’s intent on you, you can see it in his reddened lips and his eyes so bright they could glow in the overcast, and, right, he wanted to lead you earlier.

The splattering rain pales in comparison as Mysta grumbles, “How much wetter can we get, anyways?”

His hand positions your head for a kiss of his own, and the water doesn’t cross past your lips this time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

38. falling asleep while cuddling

Mysta fidgets often in his sleep, but he only thrashes around like this when he isn’t resting right. Usually after nights like these, he’s bleary and groggy in the morning, and adds another shot of espresso to his coffee.

Then you hear him whimper, and nights like these are even rarer. He’s having a nightmare.

"Mysta?" Careful not to startle him, you rest your hand on his arm and call his name. "Mysta, baby. Wake up."

He cries again as you whisper to him, and when you reach out to his shoulder he snaps back to life. The whimper turns to a sharp, sudden gasp as his eyes break open. Blue and pink colors the darkness, but they're filled with fear.

Then they go shut again, and Mysta drags his hands over his face as he groans.

It takes him a moment before he utters an exhausted but grateful "Thanks."

"No problem. Are you okay?"

"I don't know, is there a giant spider in the corner of the ceiling?"

“Nope. You’re clear.”

“That’s good then.” Mysta sighs. His eyes open through the cracks between his fingers. “That was fucking awful.”

You rub his arm in an attempt to soothe him. “You up for talking about it?”

“I guess? There isn’t much to talk about. I was trapped in this huge web, and this nasty-ass tarantula was just sat there staring at me.” His hands drag down to the edge of his chin as he frowns. "I don't know. The last thing I remember was the spider spitting a bunch of webbing all over me, and I couldn't move no matter what I did. And I couldn't see because of all the webs over my eyes."

You suck some air through your teeth. "That sounds horrible."

"I hope I don't dream about it again." Mysta looks dreary. Much better than he did while he was still asleep, but his expression is tense, and he focuses on the ceiling of the room. His breathing is audible, a quiet but slow cycle as he tries to calm himself down.

You shuffle closer to him, and as you do, you reach your hand to his face. He exhales as your fingers glide along his cheek. Soft skin rests along the cup of your palm as he nuzzles closer to you.

"Baby." You thumb over his milky-white skin. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe."

Your touch makes him produce a low, guttural hum, leftover from his exhaustion. He soaks it up like a plant to water. “Can you keep doing that?”

Of course you can. You murmur affirmations as Mysta’s eyelashes flutter. The pace gets slower the longer you go on, little whispers of safety and comfort, and pledges over how nothing can harm him, not while you’re beside him.

You brush a wisp of hair away from his eyes as he looks up at you. Still blue and pink, and still full of fear, but there is vulnerability, and the strength to be vulnerable.

Mysta averts his gaze. His breath hitches, and he hesitates to ask, but he musters up all his courage. The request is barely audible. “Can I… can I hold you?”

“Of course you can.”

You bring yourself closer to him, and before anything else Mysta sinks into your collar. Uneven breaths run along your neck and the beginnings of your chest. His arm comes next. The fingers along your back tentatively trail along the outline of your body, resting along your edges before continuing to roam, like he’s committing everything about you to memory.

A hand rises along your spine and down to your hips, before eventually resting at the space on your back underneath your shoulder. Small, broken circles press into your skin. He’s shaking. Every movement is conscientious, and he’s delicate as he takes you in, like one sudden movement would snap you in half.

So you close the distance. You feel the heat of Mysta’s body just next to yours, a reminder that you’ll always be here for him, which invites him to take a chance. The delicate circles go forgotten as he desperately and suddenly clings to you, his chest against yours, and his hand attached to the lifeline along your back. He buries his head even further into you, and his breathing is labored under trembling lips.

He embraces you as an extension of himself. The one that can keep him grounded. You caress his face in silent comfort as he holds onto you for dear life, even after his heartbeat slows and his breathing loses its sound, just puffs of air on your nape. His eyes close as you loosely scratch his head, like a puppy.

Mysta doesn’t let go of you for the rest of the night, even when his arm goes slack and his body matches the rise and fall of rest. When you wake up, it’s to his peaceful sleeping face.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🦁 Luca Kaneshiro

2. surprise date

You probably should've been suspicious once Luca announced that he was taking you on a surprise date tomorrow, then told you to wear your shabbiest pair of jeans. And to bring a pair of sunglasses. And to wake up early in the morning.

No matter what you asked him, though, he would always evade your questions with a wink if you were lucky and a smirk if you weren't.

Luca woke you up so early the sun wasn't even up outside, but at least he helped you groggily get through your morning routine and guided you to the car. He took the wheel, and in a matter of minutes you were back to dreamland.

A bump in the road shook you awake again, and luckily this time you rubbed the sleepy out of your eyes much easier than that morning. Luca was still driving with no sign of stopping, but the sun was starting to rise now, a hazy orange glow over bumfuck, nowhere. All you could see for miles were green fields and glades, and the occasional farmhouse.

"Where are we?"

"In the Sugondese."

"Very funny, Luca." You stretched about as well as you could while still strapped in the seat. "Seriously, though, we're in the middle of nowhere. Are you about to tie up some loose ends?"

"You'll just have to wait and see!"

You slump over. "Great. My mafia boyfriend is about to leave me for dead in the middle of the wilderness where no one can find me." You looked at Luca. "You remember my final wish if I have to die by your hands, right? You have to deliver a monologue explaining your master plan like a B-list villain if you have to kill me."

Luca snorts. "Daddy, chill. I'm not going to kill you, Reader, just be patient a little while longer. We're almost there."

He asks you how you slept, and natural conversation flows from there. You get so immersed in talking that you barely even notice when the car slows and Luca pulls over. He hurries out so he can open the door for you, a habit he insists is gentlemanly but comes across more puppyish than anything.

You step out. "So where are we?"

"Follow me."

You take his hand as you do. The dirt road kicks up a little as you trod through in your sneakers, and grass threatens to overtake the edge of the road. Luca leads you ahead down a walking path between trees.

"Oh, woah..."

You try to say something, but your voice falls flat as the trees part and give way to a stretch of farmland. Ripe, red berries dot the prim rows of crops, adorned with healthy bushels of foliage and an occasional white bloom between the fruit. Morning dew sparkles along the berries, rubies under the sunrise.

You whisper, like speaking would wreck the farmland. "I mentioned the other day I was craving strawberries, didn't I?"

"You like it?"

"Luca, I love it. I can't believe you planned this even though I barely remembered that myself."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you. I got us a time slot to pick our own strawberries! So once we get down there, you can take as many as you can hold in a basket, just for us."

"You're such a sweetheart," you replied. Luca chuckles once before he looks away with a hand behind his neck. The sunrise casts a warm glow on his face.

He turns when he recomposes himself, and his strong features are outlined by the shadow of the sun. Even then, it still glints off the morning-dew strawberries and along his golden hair. "Only one way to get there. Take my hand?"

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

4. surprise hug

You look up from your phone periodically. You texted Luca that you got to the street corner earlier than expected for your date today, and he told you to stay put since he was nearly there. Even then, you stand by a bush of flowers along the sidewalk and a lamppost, looking around for your date to no avail.

You squint at the timestamps of your conversation. He should be here by now...

Surprise overtakes you as darkness clouds over your vision. Two warm hands clasp themselves over your eyes, a wall of inky black, and you yelp at the sudden blindness.

"Guess who?"

You already had an idea, but that vibrato confirmed it.

"Lucaaa!" You scold. "My heart nearly jumped out of my chest!"

"Sorry! I couldn't help myself."

"Don't worry about it. Just—can you let me see already—mmph."

Luca spins you around, and you get a glimpse of the street before the darkness swallows you up again. He hugs you.

You thought his hands were warm before, but that's nothing compared to how he holds you close to his heart. He rests his head, and the side of his face squishes as he presses one cheek to yours. Luca is big and strong, and the way that he holds you so tightly is only a reminder. His sleeves are rolled up, and his forearms flex along as he happily hums along with the hug.

He turns his head to peck you on the cheek. Then he pushes you back by the shoulders, and light floods your vision, and just like that, the hug is over.

Luca's hands are still on your shoulders. "I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?"

You can take in the world just fine, but you're having trouble processing. The hug was so sudden, but Luca's warmth still lingers over your skin and under your cheeks.

"I'm fine," you say in a vain attempt to recompose yourself.

"Really? You look kind of red. Were you out in the sun for a while?"

"It's not the sun." But it might as well be, considering how bright your man shines in your eyes. "Let's get going, okay?"

He nods, the moment already forgotten to him while it's all you can think about. When he places his arm at the small of your back to walk beside you, the ghost of the hug returns, and you lean in closer to him as the date begins.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

27. kissing in the rain

It was such a nice day out, you think. You stare through the window in the door to your yard. What happened?

The abrupt rain totally took you by surprise. The sun beat down your back all day today while you and Luca did some chores outside. It was so sunny, in fact, that Luca figured he would work out under the sun instead of at the gym. He hasn't come back inside, even after the rain began.

In fact, you watch him lay face-up in the grass as the rain continues to pour.

You throw on some rain boots and walked onto the porch. The roof of your home just barely covered your head, but the wind casts some of the rain along your clothes. "Luca? Are you okay?"

"Oh, Reader!" He pops up like a jack-in-the-box. His hair sticks to his forehead and frames his smile. "Come with me! It feels great!"

"Sounds like a great way to catch a cold, if you ask me."

"Just for a moment?"

You hesitate. Even though Luca loves the sun, the last few days have been unpleasantly hot for you, but the weather now is just the right temperature, and he looks so happy standing there in the rain...

You take a cautious step out from the roof's shelter, and flinch as beads of water meets your skin directly. Cold rain runs down your closed eyes. It thrums along the porch in steady waves, and the grass crunches under the drops.

The sound of the grass makes way to footsteps along your porch. Luca is by your side. "I've got you!" In a fluid motion, he sweeps you off your feet and into his arms like royalty. You throw your arms around his neck as he carries you, and holds you closer as he steps into the downpour with hearty laughter.

He covers you and takes the majority of the rain while you slowly adapt to the weather. "Not so bad, is it?"

"Okay, okay. I'll admit it." You can't help giggling. His laughter is infectious. "You're right."

Once you get used to the rain, he swirls you in a loose circle. A breeze kicks up from the momentum, cool along the beads of water on your skin, and you inch closer as the rainwater seeps into your clothes. Luca cradles you like a precious treasure. Even as his laughter patters out, his lavender eyes are trained on you.

His gaze falls down your face, and like the rain itself, his kiss is light but just enough to send shivers down your spine.

Your eyes flutter closed as you take in the kiss, slow and soft and so delicate it melts in your mouth. The fingers around Luca's nape rise into his wet hair. They pull him in closer, and savor the chill turning calm as the kiss tastes sweeter.

The rain nearly drowns out the sound when you part, but you catch the cute little chu as Luca's lips leave yours. You don't open your eyes. Rainwater trails down your skin, but the lower half of your face stays untouched. You know why: you can still feel the cool, crisp edge of Luca's breath along the margin of your lip.

You lean forward and pull him back in, and the weather is nothing compared to the way Luca warms your heart.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

38. falling asleep while cuddling

He's drifting off again. Luca's eyes haven't blinked open in a few minutes, and it's as adorable as it is funny. He insisted on watching a movie with you tonight, but rested his head on your chest as you cuddled on the couch instead of being the big spoon like you were so used to.

You connected the dots about twenty minutes into the movie after watching him slowly close his eyes and let his head roll, only to startle himself awake a few minutes later. This has been happening on repeat ever since the movie started.

Luca exhales, and his tattooed chest falls. Is he snoring?

"Luca?" You whisper. "You ready to go to bed?"

It takes a moment before he sleepily hums. It takes him even longer to remember how to speak with a low, grumbly voice. "...'M awake."

"Sure, sure." His eyes are still shut, so he doesn't notice how you look down at him with fondness. He's so cute nestled along your body like this. You're used to Luca being so energetic when you're all alone and the movie goes forgotten as white noise, he looks youthful and innocent. Calm.

A strand of blond hair lays over his eyelashes. You thumb it out of the way, so careful not to interrupt his sleepy face, but his head turns just in time to meet the palm of your hand.

"Seriously." Your heart melts. "So cute."

"Yeah, 'm awake..."

Clearly not awake enough to hear you correctly. Your thumb circles around where his head rests, small and subtle. Luca yawns and nuzzles closer into your hand as he repositions, your body as his pillow.

As boisterous as he is in action, it's these moments you appreciate the most, between the action and adventure and all the glamour that comes with being a mafia boss. He's your knight in shining armor that swears to protect you with his life, but he's so still in your arms, and there is so much trust in the way your fingers curl at his jawline.

He really is cute, but he wouldn't let anyone else in the world adore him as much as you do.

Luca lets out a tiny snore.

"Awake, my ass." The corners of your mouth curve upwards anyways. "Love you, silly."

The rise and fall of Luca's chest is rhythmic, and his warmth drags you down into comfort. You close your eyes, and the song of his light snores lulls you to sleep.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ ⁭event post ✧. ┊ ⁭masterpost ✧. ┊ ⁭kofi

#mysta rias x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #mysta rias #luca kaneshiro #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji en #mysta rias fluff #mysta rias headcanons #luca kaneshiro fluff #luca kaneshiro headcanons #will update this post w/ a link to the continuation later ty for being patient!#4402 writes #100 followers for 4402 #celestialdeer

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drconstellation · 1 year

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More Half-and-Half-A-Miracle Thoughts

Part 3: The Third Archangel

Updated 10 Nov 2023

Part 1: Miracle Power Ranking is here Part 2: The Dark side of Aziraphale is here.

Before I try to put the full picture of the mighty miracle together, there is one other Archangel I want to talk about first, because yeah, if the "little" miracle had an Archangel x an Archangel x (ex-)Archangel in the equation, all working in synergy, that's some pretty serious potential power right there.

S2 has given us much to discuss about Crowley and his past. We know he is different in that he has an imagination. We know he is the only ethereal entity, angelic or demonic, who can stop time, which is no mean feat. I have a list of at least nine, possibly thirteen clues (it keeps growing! 21 clues And yes, I'm counting,) that he was once a

senior Archangel, one of the seraphim, before his Fall (but not which one in particular, for sure, alas. We can debate that later, its not important here. Really. Don't @ me about it, I'm not going to engage in this post.) They (updated link to a new discussion: the idea of Crowley previously being a very powerful angel) have all been mentioned already, none of them are new. This implies there is a huge amount of potential power that Crowley could pull upon to put into the miracle performed on Gabriel. So he is our obvious ex-Archangel in the equation.

And we already have Gabriel, in the middle.

Which just leaves us with Aziraphale, and his green-paneled waistcoat...

I've led you all on thinking he's somehow connected to Hell? Or been associating too long with Crowley? No. (Or maybe, yes? To hanging around a demon, I mean.) On one hand it does show us he is not like the other angels. On the other, it tells us something else altogether.

For all that I've been recently rabbiting on about dark horses pointing mainly to Crowley and Saraqael, we have perhaps been deftly misdirected from the biggest dark horse of all: Aziraphale as our 'missing" seraphim, Archangel Raphael, incognito.

Now, I'm certainly not the first person to suggest this at all. There have been multiple metas about it, even way back from S1. I agree with them, fwiw.

Why am I saying this now? I think this recent post about Aziraphale being present at Sodom and Gomorrah sealed it for me, especially since I had made a recent note about Raphael being the one to be assigned to escort Lot from Gomorrah. And for all that I've just discussed how dark Aziraphale can be, he is still clearly affected by what he witnessed that night, so long, long ago.

"Oh Lord, heal this bike."

Green is also the color primarily associated with Raphael, the healer. I've seen a few other colors mentioned as well (in fact, the more you search, the more confusing it gets) but mostly the color you'll see mentioned is green. And its the color Aziraphale conceals on the back side of his waistcoat. Plus he did heal Anathema (and her velocipede) back in S1 after they collided with the Bentley.

Finally, in the Islamic tradition, Raphael is known as Israfil, and he is essential to announcing the Day of Judgement, with a trumpet constantly poised at his lips, ready to blown when God so orders.

Guess who just got taken back to Heaven to start the Second Coming?

Edit: Since I first posted this, some additional information has come along to add to this. I finally bumped into a post about the wonderful golden collars in the Job minisode (It's so, so important to put at least one or two relevant tags for meta-writers like me to help find your posts readers! Then you can shit-talk in the tags all you like.) and that lead me to a webpage on basic angel symbology and the major angels, which helped to firm up a few things I'd been wondering about. One observation is angels usually go about bare-footed, but Raphael wears sandals when on Earth, as he is chief of the guarding angels, and is the guardian of the young, and watches over pilgrims and travelers. And who was wearing golden sandals during the Job minisode?

Doing some guarding of the young as well...

And Raphael is assigned to the direction of the East.

Now we have three Archangels, three seraphim, no less, side by side.

That's a mighty shitload of potential miracle power, whichever way you want to look at it. No wonder the ol' Metatrash got a bit nervous about what happened and decided to take a personal hand in things.

If your sitting there going "'Hang on, op, hang on just a darned minute - Aziraphale hasn't even been promoted to Supreme Archangel yet and Crowley could just be a Dominion, you don't know, and Gabriel's a drooling idiot, how could he contribute to it - " Just stop. Take a breath. Go back to Part 1 where I discuss the problems with our knowledge about miracle powers and their potential. Their potential. And its frustrating that in the end we just don't have enough knowledge to be certain.

So take this as my personal head-canon. I may not have really answered why the miracle was so strong. But as I said at the start, I don't think we can. Too many factors involved, too many unknowns. Too much hidden.

Bring on S3, I say!

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #gabriel #the metatron #raphael #sodom and gomorrah #only the mightiest of archangels #anathema #oh lord heal this bike #the second coming

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would-this-pokemon-be-a-friend · 1 year

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Welcome and Explanation

Index of all Posts

Hello, thank you for visiting, and welcome to Would This Pokémon Be A Good Pet?

What is this?

To put it simply, this project is a personal creative outlet to work on between other work. I wanted to collect it all in one place, and thought I might as well share it online. I hope other people enjoy it. Would This Pokémon Be A Good Pet? is a project that will go through every pokémon and determine, using a set of statistics and a simple formula, if they would make a good house pet if they existed in real life.

Why make this?

Well, as I previously mentioned, I wanted some sort of simple creative project to work on when I need to take a break from other creative work (or work work). I also really like Pokémon; specifically the creatures themselves! It's really that simple: I thought it would be fun to take a look at each one and imagine what it would be like to care for one in real life. How easy would they be to care for? How dangerous would they be? How friendly are they? It's all pretty silly.

How does it work?

Oof, well there's the even more nerdy stuff. Each pokémon is evaluated and given a score based on certain criteria. This includes their size, abilities, behavior (pokédex entries), ease of care, and moves (I have actually categorized every move in the Pokémon games into danger level categories, depending on how bad it would be to be hit by one. My cat in real life can scratch me, which is painful and all, but I'm glad she can't engulf me in an inferno of fire!). A score is tallied from these scores, and they are given a letter grade from A to F (as well as an explanation!) I will be working through pokémon at my own pace and in a random order, but specific species can be requested when the ask box is open!

NEW ADDITION: New tags have been created to help readers navigate my posts! Each pokémon's post will now be given a new tag matching their ranking (ex. an A rank post will be tagged "PR-A", a B rank post will be tagged "PR-B", etc.). If you want to see all of the pokémon that I've covered of a specific rank, just check out the tag for that post!

Anyways, long introduction post over! If anyone ever reads this, thanks again for visiting!

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pipermca · 7 months

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Feedback Fest 2024

In honour of International Fanworks Day (today! February 15) I am posting some fic recommendations that I've made in the past. (I am super swamped at work and can't write up any new recs, but I previously rec'd these over on my main blog over the past few years. I'm collecting them together again here on my writing blog!)

These ten rec's are in no particular order, and all are in the Transformers fandom (with some crossovers). Ratings and pairings (if relevant) are noted.

(I also had to split this list into two parts because I waxed too poetic about these fics. See my reblog for the next part. 🙂)

Frivolities by @neveralarch (G, Megatron & Starscream). Summary: “My correct form of address is in my ID tag,” snapped Starscream. “Use it or lose your tongue.” My comments: I love this story. I love it so much I’ve recommended it to people who would ordinarily never read Transformers fanfic, simply because I think they’d appreciate what the author is doing. They took canon and fanon, and from it alchemized a story of dysphoria and wanting to be seen and acknowledged in a way the character wants, and wrapped it up in a tidy package that hits like a truck, and have I mentioned I love this story! (makes fists) Read it!

Working Through It by @trinarysuns (M, Skywarp/Thundercracker/Marissa Faireborn). Summary: “TC,” Skywarp says, “I’m, like, ninety percent sure that humans don’t have interface cables.” Thundercracker squawks and almost knocks him over trying to get the script out of his hands. My comments: I can’t say enough about this story. I love it and it pushed so many buttons for me. Not even smutty buttons, just interaction buttons: humans interacting with giant alien robots, old loves reuniting, logitical issues of interspecies getting it on… Tumblr deleted my review of this story, (SIGH) so I reposted my review on DW here. It says a lot more about this fic!

The Soft Rush of Black Static by Monstrosibee (NR, Bluestreak/Prowl). Summary: Prowl doesn’t know a lot of bots on this newly salvaged Cybertron, and he definitely doesn’t know the bot intruding on his construction site. My comments: While this fic is essentially a fix-it fic for a story from the Aligned continuity, it just destroyed me. You can read the basics of what happened between Bluestreak and Prowl on TFWiki (at the end of Chapter 7 of The Covenant of Primus) but it was devastating to actually read how upset Prowl was by what happened. This short little fix-it brought all those emotions back and then healed them. I loved this.

Someone You Might Have Been by @astolat (T, Megatron/Optimus Prime.) Summary: I didn’t love him because he wasn’t you. My comments: I'm rec'ing this because it's just pure "this is exactly what I want to read!" for me. This is a delightful mashup of the Shattered Glass universe and G1, in which the Optimus Primes from each universe get (temporarily) swapped. It’s an amazingly heartwrenching MegOP story.

Crash Site by Slyboots (G, Breakdown/Knock Out). Summary: June Darby does not believe in aliens, or in haunted highways, or in government conspiracies, or in any other small-town folklore. The new mechanics in town are uncanny, all the same. My comments: I am a sucker for Transformers: Prime fics, and one of the (it's canon! suck it Hasbro) ships from the show that I love is Knock Out/Breakdown. But besides that, I just love the vibe of this story. You can feel Knock Out and Breakdown in it, even if June doesn’t really see them, except out of the corner of her eye. And I am SO HERE for the idea that the two of them got some lovely downtime together before the events in TFP.

#ifd2024 #feedback fest 2024 #international fanworks day #fic rec #maccadam

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i-heart-hxh · 6 months

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Hi...Can I ask, what are your KilluGon fav moments? And what are your fav personal headcanons about them? Also, do you have any fav ships (from any fandom) that the dynamics remind you of KilluGon? Thanks if you want to answer....

Hello!

Thank you for asking! This post will get way too long if I answer all your questions, so here's a post where I talk about some of my fav HxH moments (4/5 of which are KilluGon related), and here's my Headcanons tag to see some of the headcanons I've posted or approved of previously. I'm sure I'll revisit similar questions to these over time as well.

I haven't had anyone ask about ships that remind me of KilluGon though, and it's a fun question to answer! I think KilluGon is very unique, so these might not be incredibly similar, but I'm focusing on ships that give me a similar feeling or have commonalities that I think are worth mentioning. I enjoy all of these ships to varying degrees!

I'm going to stay away from ships from big, currently popular shounen series that people typically bring up in comparison with HxH (JJK, HeroAca, etc.), both because the ships I've come across in those don't actually remind me of KilluGon very deeply, and also because it's more fun to recommend ships/series people may not have heard of already!

Reki Kyan and Langa Hasegawa (Sk8 the Infinity)

I'm all but certain these two were based off Gon and Killua in part--the personalities of the two and dynamic between them feels fairly similar, and the antagonist of the series, Adam, also strongly feels like he's based off of Hisoka. The series itself is less serious/dark than HxH so the intensity isn't the same, but they definitely have a similar strong friendship basis and mutual adoration to Gon and Killua.

Suletta Mercury and Miorine Rembran (Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury)

Suletta is straightforward, somewhat oblivious, and grew up isolated from others (a bit like Gon), and Miorine is confident, tsundere, and trying to escape the influence of her rich and powerful family (a bit like Killua), and the two hit it off quickly and find joy and inspiration to keep going in each other. The degree to which they influence, support, and adore each other feels familiar. There are some later developments (spoilers) that remind me of Gon and Killua as well.

Yuki Sanada and Haru (Tsuritama)

Yuki, who has severe anxiety, ends up having his life transformed when the strange and overly friendly Haru appears suddenly. There's a real cuteness, joyfulness, and closeness between them that reminds me of Gon and Killua, and the way they help each other understand the world differently and change each others' perspectives as well.

Maru and Kiruko (Tengoku Daimakyou / Heavenly Delusion)

I can't say too much about this ship because I don't want to spoil any surprises, but let's just say in at least one major way it's not how it appears. Maru (the blond one) shares several commonalities with Killua, though he's at least a bit more straightforward in his emotions like Gon; while Kiruko is somewhat more tsundere initially (due to understandable past reasons). Their bond reminds me of Gon and Killua in that they travel all around together and develop a very close friendship and devotion to one another, and while one is more openly affectionate the other holds back more initially.

(This series contains some mature content, including a depiction of sexual assault, so please be careful when checking it out, but it's fantastic!)

Shindou Hikaru and Touya Akira (Hikaru no Go)

These two are rivals and obviously Gon and Killua are not, but at the same time there's a certain intensity and degree of being obsessed with each other than reminds me of KilluGon, as well as things like their bickering and the degree to which the series revolves around their connection. It's been a long time since I read the manga so I admittedly can't remember all the details, but I feel like it's maybe a few steps closer to Gon and Killua than, say, Hinata and Kageyama from Haikyuu (though that's also a great rivals -> friends ship that has some commonalities with KilluGon). It has a strong canon basis and I remember really enjoying how their bond develops!

Riko and Reg (Made in Abyss)

Riko is an adventurous, plucky girl who goes on a dangerous journey to find her missing parent, while Reg the robot boy supports her on their adventure (and semi-secretly adores her). Reg is also voiced by Mariya Ise, Killua's seiyuu, so it's hard not make the comparison! The personalities of the two are definitely similar and their bond feels familiar.

(Made in Abyss looks cute but it contains a great deal of upsetting/potentially triggering content, please be careful if you decide to watch or read it! It's amazing, but definitely not a series that will appeal to everyone.)

I hope people looking for similar ships might enjoy checking these series out!

#hxh #hunter x hunter #killugon #gonkillu #asks #dnana-2809-blog #my posts #sk8 the infinity #gundam witch from mercury #tsuritama #hikaru no go #hikago #tengoku daimakyou #heavenly delusion #made in abyss #long post

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thlayli-ra · 7 days

Note

Top 5-6 WWE wrestling blogs you would recommend and why (optional)?

Thank you Anon for the brilliant question!

I'm not sure if any of these are strictly WWE, but I'm using this as an excuse to highlight some of my favourite creators here on Tumblr. I'm going for ones I haven't mentioned previously so please check out my previous posts here and here for some amazing writers, artists and mutuals that I love dearly!

1) @princedevitt - Whenever I watch a match (usually an LA Knight one) and he does a facial expression that's really cute or writhes beautifully on the floor or drops the bottom of his balls out on live tv, I say to myself 'I really hope princedevitt has made a gif of that.' And more often than not, he has! He's also a fellow appreciator of Knight's slutty trunks (and appears to be on a mission to murder me with his Nexus/Sideburn Punk gifs!!!)

2) @taydaq - Just the most beautiful ship art I've ever seen. I'm not even an ambreigns or hartbreak girlie but my gooodddd I could easily jump on board the way they draw them. Then there was the Punkintyre piece they did for me as part of an art swap and... *incoherent screaming*

3) @tvheit - Another incredible artist. Such beautiful, colourful, stunning art that I could stare at for days on end (and sometimes do...). I have not forgotten that I owe you a piece for our art trade - it's on my to-do list!

4) @fantasticalleigh - Where I get my regular Punkintyre fanart fix! Gorgeous! Just gorgeous! Their latest 'Broken Man' series is just MWAH!

5) @codypunk - Beautiful art. The kind that makes me re-think my entire style. The way they draw hair (especially Punk's hair) makes me foam at the mouth a little. OK, a lot!!!!

6) - @werkingstiffx - I am just... in awe of them! They don't post often but every time they do, whether it's artwork or a fancam it's just earth-shattering, mind-altering, brain-melting-in-my-skull-and-oozing-out-of-my-nose-and-ears good!

7) @ekmsoldier - Speaking of artists who are other-worldly and make me want to throw my ipencil across the room and give up drawing forever because I will just never ever make anything as beautiful. Took me a while to realise but I used to follow this artist on IG way back when. I've always adored their Finn Balor/Demon King art and it's only gotten better with time. Like, seriously, transcending universes better!!!

8) @normallypassingby - Every so often, this kinda 'dump' of Punkintyre artwork appears on the tags and I'm always mesmerised by it. I adore this artist's anime style and sometimes have to catch my breath at their work!

9) @redhotchilimouse - It's not fair! It's just not fair how achingly beautiful your artwork is! The soft tones, feathery linework and... you just... you draw men in trunks so damn well!!!

I should think of a 10) but I'm tired and my brain won't work anymore. I have missed soooooo many other incredible talents on here so I'm sorry if I didn't tag you this time - I'm be sure to rectify my mistake the next time!

#Thlayli-answers #artists of tumblr #wrestling fanart

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grapenehifics · 5 months

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Countdown to Chapter One!

My fellow Obikins: I am very, VERY excited to share my next fic with you. Some of you may remember a fic of mine called An Uncivil War, the first chapter of which I posted on AO3 almost exactly a year ago, in May of 2023, and wrapped up that July. At the time, I mentioned to a number of people in the comments that I was already partway through the sequel (An Uncivil War is listed as part one of a three-part series, Can't Stop the Suns), and that I hoped to have Part II ready to go by end of 2023.

Well, that obviously didn't happen. I started looking at February 2024. That didn't happen either. I pushed it to April. April has come and gone. May, though! May I am going to make happen! May 27th, 2024, to be exact. Chapter one of Pick Up the Pieces, a.k.a. part 2 of Can't Stop the Suns, a.k.a. the sequel to An Uncivil War, a.k.a. the thing I have been writing on and off for more than three years now, is going up on AO3. (Excerpt and way more ramblings below the cut.)

A) I wanted to make this announcement in advance because I'm just really excited to share this fic. Parts of it I've posted on Tumblr as WIP Wednesdays, but most of it I've tried to keep under wraps until it's ready and, frankly, I really want to talk about it!

B) @palfriendpatine66 specifically asked for a heads-up before I started posting, but I figured I'd share publicly in case anyone else has the same desire to read (or re-read) part one before starting part two. May 27th is the day!

I do want to say, though - prior knowledge of An Uncivil War is NOT required to understand or enjoy this fic. If you haven't read An Uncivil War, I would really love it if you did! I'm enormously proud of it and love, love, love talking about it. But I also don't want anyone to not give Pick Up the Pieces a try, assuming they were otherwise interested, because they're worried they won't understand what's going on. If you want to jump in, make sure you read the tags and the summary, and by the time you get to chapter three you should have a pretty good grounding in what happened previously. Obviously there are some little details here and there you'll miss but for the most part you should be okay. I did try to make it as accessible as possible.

C) Thirdly - mostly as a reward for reading this far - I thought it would be fun, over the next three Wednesdays, to give a sneak peek of one of the later chapters, because I've really missed doing regular WIP Wednesdays for this fic (for the aforementioned secrecy reasons).

The main part of the fic is set during what would have been the final year of the Clone Wars, except we take a departure from canon during the season 5 episode The Wrong Jedi and diverge off-course from there. Mixed in with that, though, are flashback chapters, covering some portion of Anakin's years as Obi-Wan's Padawan, which have just been a blast to write. They go in roughly chronological order, and this one in particular is set when Anakin is 17. I'll post a little bit today, the next part a week from today, the final section the week after that, and then you'll get the rest of it when chapter ten goes up in the actual fic :)

Chapter Ten preview starts below:

“Uh…” Anakin looked down at his cards and bit his lip. “Hit me?” he asked tentatively. The three other players around the table blinked slowly back at him. He reached out and flipped the top card of the table deck over, letting the rest of the players see it. “Damnit,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Tough luck, boy,” boomed the Besalisk on Anakin’s right, the one he was most worried about getting a peek at his cards. “That makes twenty-two.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Anakin snapped, frustrated. He tossed his cards face-down in front of him. “Don’t remind me.”

Anakin was losing, and quite badly at that. He really needed to slow down and stop the bleeding or Obi-Wan was going to catch him not only gambling, but totally out of credits, too, and he would not be happy about it.

“I’m going to take a break,” Anakin said suddenly, standing up so quickly his chair squeaked. “I’ll sit out this round. Be right back.” He scooped the (very meager) pile of credits he had left to his name into his hand and pocketed them before walking away. What he really wanted to do was take a quick minute to check the chronometer strapped to his wrist without any of them seeing him do it, but needing to take a walk was as good an excuse as any.

He didn’t leave the Castle (Takodana was a little too humid for Anakin’s liking), just took a slow lap around the edges of it, checking out the other gambling tables, the billiards games, the tourists, the regulars, the spacers, the spice runners, the spice addicts, the smugglers. The people who, if he hadn’t become a Jedi, probably would have been his friends and his enemies, his rivals, his contemporaries. His lovers, maybe.

The lower levels of Takodana Castle had once been an ancient Jedi temple, a fact Obi-Wan had mentioned rather a few more times than strictly necessary on their trip over from Coruscant. It had been built on the site of an even more ancient battleground, where Jedi and Sith had fought one another centuries – maybe a millennia – ago. The Jedi had won, that time, and built the original Takodana Temple as a kind of memorial. Anakin let the tips of his fingers trail over the wet, warm stone walls as he walked, feeling to see if he could catch any whispers of the old voices. Old hurts, old betrayals, old war wounds…

He had started doing this thing, about a year or so back. He had discovered, largely by accident (not that Jedi were supposed to believe in accidents, just The Will of the Force, and all that), that he could, rather paradoxically, up the ante on his meditation skills by upping the ante on his distractions. He’d been filling in for Obi-Wan, who was supposed to have been taking a turn sitting in with a group of the youngest Younglings but had been called away at the last minute (or so he had said, at least; Anakin still wasn’t totally sure he believed him). Anakin had tried to keep to the Younglings’ schedule, which included a quarter of an hour of daily mandated meditation time. Younglings not being particularly good at meditation (they were worse at it than Anakin was, which was really saying something), they’d lasted only about half that time before starting to get fidgety. It had started small – a few coughs here and there, a couple of giggles, wiggling on their mats – and then had progressed from there to full-blown chaos. Anakin was supposed to be setting an example, though, and was determined to sit still, keep his eyes closed, and ignore everything that wasn’t an outright cry for medical attention until the allotted time was up.

What he had found, though, was that it was actually one of his better meditation sessions. The noisier the room got, the more relaxed Anakin got. He’d eventually opened his eyes to find one Youngling on his lap, another chewing on his Padawan braid, and a third hanging from the ceiling rafters, but had felt…calm and at peace and a little floaty, but also grounded, connected to the Force, the air, even the children. He’d asked Obi-Wan about it later that night over dinner. Obi-Wan had suggested they meditate over it, which made Anakin roll his eyes because he already had meditated today, that was the whole thing he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan about, and how much meditation did a person need every day, really? But after they ate he’d dutifully sat down across from Obi-Wan and closed his eyes anyway. Obi-Wan had reached out and taken Anakin’s hands in his, which almost made up for the double meditation session. (Almost.)

And then, just as Anakin was starting to settle into something resembling regulating his breathing, something hard and poky had slammed into the side of his head.

“Ow!” he’d said, reflexively, and opened his eyes. Obi-Wan’s datapad was lying on the floor beside him. Obi-Wan himself was still sitting serenely, holding Anakin’s hands.

“What the kriff did you do that for?” Anakin demanded.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan had said, without opening his eyes, “I thought you said you liked having distractions while you meditated.”

“Not painful ones!” Anakin shot back.

“Apologies.” The holopad, from the floor, flicked on and started replaying whatever the last thing either of them had watched on it, which happened to be a nature documentary about tee-muss. “Is that better?”

Anakin grumbled about it, but he had, sort of, asked for this, and admitting defeat now would be both embarrassing and would necessitate him letting go of Obi-Wan’s hands, so he closed his eyes and tried again.

Of course, the first thing he had to do was release the pain in his head into the Force, but once he’d done that, he found that, once again, sifting through his distractions was easier when he actually had distractions to sift through. He let the migratory patterns of wild tee-muss go, and felt Obi-Wan squeeze his hands. “Good, Anakin,” he murmured softly, so quietly Anakin almost couldn’t hear him over the documentary narrator. “That’s very good.” (Anakin had replayed the moment in his head, putting that voice of Obi-Wan’s into different and much more…naked contexts, so many times since then that he could get hard just thinking about it, now.)

So Anakin had started to experiment, on and off. He turned the holoprojector on in their rooms while he was meditating. He sat in the corner of the refectory and meditated during mealtimes. Once, he tried meditating during galactic history class, but his teacher had ratted him out to Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan had told him not to do that anymore. And, now, he wanted to see if he could do it while inside Takodana Castle on a bustling summer afternoon.

To be continued next Wednesday!

#obikin #wip wednesday #an uncivil war #pick up the pieces

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