#ask my muse is pretty powerful lol

[blue-slxt]

The Game

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

A/N: So this was inspired by crazy, horny ramblings from discord. I just love my man and threesomes are pretty fun (even if they are a monster to actually write lol). All characters are aged up.

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Na'vi!Reader x Fem!Na'vi!OC

Warnings: Smut, P in V, Threesome, Oral (M and F receiving), Face Riding, Sapphic Kissing/Touching, Creampie

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Neteyam gets caught up in you and your friend's "game".

Everything about this whole situation was just so unusual. Neteyam couldn't believe he found himself in this scenario. It was so unlike him to get caught up. But he had been distracted. It was supposed to be another regular trip through the forest. But something was different tonight. He got careless; he got distracted. He smelled a scent he wasn't familiar with. As many times as he's walked through this forest, he knew it inside and out and he knew that whatever this scent was, it didn't belong here.

He hushed his own breath and lightened his footsteps as he moved closer to the unfamiliar smell. It was floral, but with a hint of some type of fruit that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Peeking through the bushes, he noticed your crouched form next to the river. Your back was turned towards him and it seemed you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

He almost called out to you, but when he saw your face, his voice was lost to him. To say he thought you were beautiful was an understatement. Your features were soft and round, but there was a hardened edge to your expression. Clearly a gentle and nurturing soul, but a heart made of steel and no fear.

That's where he fucked up. He got so lost in his musings about you that he let his guard down and didn't notice the second presence coming up behind him until a strong hand grabbed ahold of his kuru and a cool blade was pressed against his throat.

"Move slowly..." the second voice speaks lowly to him.

She stands to her feet and brings Neteyam with her and moves both of them through the bushes into the clearing. "Who did you find this time, Ìze?" you say brushing your braids out of your face.

With a sly grin, she walks him closer to you, "We got a big catch this time. None other than the prince of the Omatikaya himself."

"What is this?" Neteyam asks, trying to piece together the unfolding situation.

"Why don't you tell us? You were the one watching me, weren't you?" you say walking up to him and trailing your fingers over his broad chest.

His ears pin themselves to his head feeling embarrassed at being caught and called out. "Fine. So what do you want?"

Ìze chuckles behind him, "Same thing that you want, pretty boy." Her hand on his kuru eases its grip and starts to lightly stroke the base making Neteyam's breath grow heavy.

"It's okay, Nete~..." you say his name with a sweet tease. "We just want to play with you a little bit..."

"How do you know my name?" he asks, trying to not let the quiver in his voice show.

"Oh, you are famous even among other clans, Mr. future olo'eyktan." Ìze answers finally lowering her knife from his throat. And yet, Neteyam still makes no attempt to escape.

"I've been dying to find out if the Omatikaya prince tastes as good as he looks", you continue letting your fingers dance along the waist of his tewng.

Ìze slowly circles around to his front letting his kuru slide sensually through her hand before letting it fall. Now that Neteyam could clearly see her face, he could see that she was beautiful too, but in an entirely different way. Where your beauty radiated nurturing warmth and hidden power, Ìze was beautiful in an intimidating way. She was clearly the hunter type and everything from her posture to her voice commanded respect.

"So take your pick, Nete~" Ìze teases the nickname.

Neteyam tries desperately to quickly rework his malfunctioning brain to come up with some kind of a response. But any words that come to mind, die in his throat before they ever make it to his lips. His eyes just flicker back and forth between the two of you trying to make sense of at least some part of this.

"What's the matter?" you ask, stepping closer and running your hand along his perfectly chiseled jaw. "Yerik got your tongue?"

Neteyam's not sure why he did what he did next. Maybe it was how sweet you smelled or the shiver he felt all the way down to his tail when you touched him. Regardless of why, he grabs you by the waist and pulls you in close against him.

Your eyes go wide with excitement and a devilish grin plasters itself on your face. Ìze's expression mimics your own at the unfolding situation in front of you both. You're not quite done having your fun yet, though. You lift up on your toes and press light kisses to his cheeks, his nose, the corners of his mouth, his chin, everywhere except where he really wants you. When his patience runs thin, Neteyam uses two fingers to hold your chin and keep you in place so that he can properly place a firm kiss on your lips. 

His lips are in perfect sync moving against yours, but before you can fully comprehend anything, his tongue is swiping at your lower lip begging to be let in. You eagerly grant him entrance just as you feel another set of hands wrap around you and cup your breasts. Neteyam’s tongue dances with yours where he clearly sets the tone and takes the lead and you’re more than happy to submit to him. You sigh into the kiss feeling Ìze give your earlobe a playful nip. You finally pull back from the kiss leaving a thin string of saliva connecting your lips together. 

“My turn” Ìze says still groping at your body that was thoroughly trapped between the two of them. 

She leans in over your shoulder pressing her lips to Neteyam’s and the kiss is a fierce battle of wills between the two of them. Their tongues fight for dominance as you let your hands trail lower down his toned body and you feel the outline of his dick through his tewng. Feeling how big and stiff he is right now has your breath growing heavy with anticipation. Your eagerness clearly overtakes you when your fingers get busy untying his loincloth. 

When they finally break their kiss, both of their chests are heaving for air. Neteyam locks eyes with you and his blown pupils and half lidded eyes match your own. He lets you continue on your mission to rid him of the offensive cloth until it falls while he licks and nips at your neck. He breathes in deep, heady breaths of your intoxicating scent and you make no attempt to stop him from scenting you. Ìze says in your ear, “looks like the prince has taken a liking to you” with a giggle in her voice. 

“It would seem so. I’ll take the first round and then we’ll switch?” you suggest with a slight moan escaping when his tongue glides just below your ear. 

“Sounds good to me.”

Neteyam is so lost in leaving little marks on your otherwise perfect skin that he doesn’t even hear the two of you scheming. It’s not until you push him away by his chest that he finally breaks out of his trance. Neteyam focuses on the two pairs of eyes trained on him. More specifically, on his thick cock standing tall and proud in front of him. 

“Lay down” Ìze instructs. 

His ears twitch back and forth signaling that he heard her, but his tail sways in hesitation. 

“Relax, your highness. Let us take care of everything.” you say tail practically thrashing behind you with excitement.

Neteyam feels like he’s having an out of body experience, watching himself follow your instructions as he lays down on the soft, glowy moss.

He watches on in curiosity and amazement when you and Ìze strip off your own tewngs in front of him leaving the three of you bare together. You approach him from the bottom while Ìze walks around to the top of Neteyam’s head. Getting down on your hands and knees, you crawl over to him and settle yourself between his thighs that twitch and jump under the gentle caress of your fingertips. It feels like you could start drooling when you finally hold him in your hand. He’s so thick and heavy in your grasp, your fingers can just barely fit all the way around. 

Dragging the flat of your tongue up his length, you can see Neteyam’s abs tremble with the shuddering breath he releases. Your tongue travels up his whole length and then you take his tip into your mouth. Beads of tangy precum coat your tongue and you hum around him in satisfaction at the flavor. 

The beads in his braids clink together as Neteyam’s head falls back to the ground. When he looks up, Ìze is crouched over him grinning like a devil at him. 

“Ah ah ah, eyes forward, pretty boy.” She says, grabbing his face and pointing his eyes back at you. You hold searing eye contact with him while you slide him all the way into your mouth, making small gagging sounds when he brushes the back of your tongue. 

“She’s doing such a good job for you, isn’t she? Doesn’t she just look so gorgeous swallowing your cock?” 

If your lips weren’t currently occupied, they would be tugging into a smirk watching the prince’s composure crumble. Ìze always loved taking the lead in these situations. Meanwhile, you were more of a pleaser. Nothing compared to the rush you felt when you would watch a strong warrior or proficient hunter melt under you. 

Neteyam finally can’t hold your gaze any more when you shoot a wink his way. It’s more than he can handle. His eyes squeeze close while you continue to bob your head up and down on his length. Ìze takes the opportunity to turn his face back to her and capture his lips in another heated kiss. 

Neteyam moans into her mouth when you hollow out your cheeks and he swallows the small chuckles she lets out. 

When you and Ìze lock eyes, a silent understanding is shared between you. You pull off of Neteyam with an audible ‘pop’ and Ìze pulls back from their kiss and Neteyam is left with his head still spinning figuring out what’s happening. 

“Time to see if the prince lives up to his reputation. What do you think?” Ìze teases.

“Oh, I’m sure that he won’t disappoint us” you muse, stalking closer to him and stealing a quick kiss. His lips try to chase after you when you pull away. He watches you intensely when you straddle his hips and hover right above when he really wants you to be. His hips buck beneath you trying to chase your heat. Every time he comes close, you lift your hips a little higher, keeping him from fully getting what he wants out of you just yet. He lets out a low growl of frustration, but it only amuses the two of you. 

“Now, now, don’t be such a tease. I think we’ve made him wait long enough, don’t you?”, Ìze purrs walking behind you and placing her hands on your hips.You let her help guide you to finally sit down on Neteyam’s stiff cock. The stretch is even better than you imagined. 

“Mmf!”

Every curve and ridge seems to fit perfectly inside of you. Neteyam can’t help but watch you sit down on it and watching the way his jaw falls to his chest is the exact sight that you love to see every time. 

You move your hips up and down at a steady pace, coaxing small groans of pleasure from the man under you. Ìze takes her hands off you and makes her way to Neteyam’s face.

“Don’t forget about me just yet, prince.”

She uses two fingers on Neteyam’s forehead to gently push his head down for her to straddle his face. Neteyam wastes no time having his fill of her. 

“Ahh…”

Both of you roll your hips in perfect time with each other on top of him. Your walls clench and hug around his thick cock while Ìze covers his face in her slick that he’s steadily lapping at. 

“Ahn~! Nete!” you cry out when his hips snap up to meet yours. One of his hands holds on to your hip for more leverage to rut up into you. His other hand holds Ìze in place for his tongue to reach all the right spots. 

“Haah…ah, right there!” she croons. 

“Ìze…” you breathe out, reaching your hand towards her. A smirk crosses her lips already knowing what you wanted. She leans forward towards you and uses her fingers under your chin to tilt your face up to hers and press her lips to yours. Her tongue invades your mouth, muffling the sweet moans you make from every buck of Neteyam’s hips. 

The night air is filled with the various sounds of wet skin slapping against skin and muffled sounds of pleasure from all three of you. 

Your head is swirling with all the stimulation that almost borders on being too much. The smell of arousal thick in your noose, Neteyam’s tip knocking against your cervix, and Ìze playfully licking into your mouth has you quickly approaching your peak. 

You finally break the kiss to catch your breath and notice Ìze’s glazed over eyes. It’s a look you’re all too familiar with from having done this so many times. It’s the look she gets when she’s close. She pants against your lips; the two of you practically sharing the breath. Below her, Neteyam attaches his lips around her clit and sucks on it lightly sending shock waves through her body. Her normally hardened, confident expression has melted away into something needy and wanting. Thankfully, you knew exactly what she needed. 

Your hand reaches around the back of her head and grabs ahold of her kuru. Gently stroking the base of it, you lightly purr to her “let go for us, Ìze”. 

As if you had directly spoken to oher core, her hips twitch and her thighs shake with her release that coats Neteyam’s face and runs down the sides of his mouth. Her pussy desperately clenches around nothing as she continues to ride out her high until she can come down.

Watching her like this always riled you up more. Made you go harder, faster, deeper. It was beautiful to watch every time. She was beautiful. 

Her body relaxes and she drops her full weight down. Neteyam lightly taps her thigh to signal to her that he finally needs to come up for a breath and she climbs off of his face. 

“Have fun~” she says with a slightly tired lilt to her voice, leaving the two of you to finish. 

In one fluid motion, Neteyam sits up and lays you on your back on the ground. He throws your legs over his shoulders and ruts into you with more force than before. Lightning flashes through your body. Without even realizing it, your tail coils around his bicep in a subconscious attempt to help keep your mind grounded. 

“Ah! Mm! Haah…Nete!” 

“Cum for me, tanhì” he quietly commands you, knowing that he’s probably just as close as you are. 

Your toes curl and your nails dig into his skin when your release rips through you.Your walls vice grip around him and Neteyam can’t hold back anymore. His hips stutter and lose their previously steady pace as thick ropes of white spill into you making warmth spread in your lower belly. 

His lips crash into yours, still fresh with the taste of Ìze on them. It’s disorienting and addicting in the way it seems to drag out your high and make you see stars. When he breaks the kiss, you’re both trying to catch your breath. 

“So?” Ìze inquires from somewhere behind you.

A smile spreads on your lips and you simply respond, “I told you he wouldn’t disappoint us”.

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[arrowheadedbitch]

Okay, I've been discussing ideas about a PJO Psych crossover and it is now time to share my findings

Okay, so once upon a time Henry Spencer met a woman who when posing as a mortal went by the name Madeleine but she was actually a goddess, they had a kid, she was a minor goddess, so she was able to stay for a while, but eventually she left.

Yes, of COURSE Shawn thinks it's his Dad's fault

The goddess was Mnemosyne, the Greek goddess of MEMORY and the mother of the muses (works perfectly, right??!??!?!)

And Gus is his Satyr protector!!!

Henry does all the same training with Shawn to be a cop and such

Shawn gets his eidetic memory from his mother, the goddess of memory

I've also decided he gets taskmaster powers (can do anything he sees from memory) because that fucks hard

Shawn gets the record of fastest kid to get claimed as his mother officially claims him before he even leaves for camp

Here's her symbol by the way!

Anyway, when Shawn gets to camp, he's a total little shit

At first, the other campers think he's just not being claimed, depending on how you work the timeline here? Percy is pissed

Then Gus and Shawn explain that he actually got claimed before he even showed up (Percy vows to personally thank his godly parent for being an actually decent person)

So, they ask who it is, and Shawn WILL NOT TELL THEM

Why? Because it's funner that way!

They have an ongoing tally and betting pool of who his godly parent is, no one guesses it

He also keeps sneaking Mr D alcohol because it's funny and no one but Dionysus is happy about that

Gus is still his best friend that he drags into things, obv, they probably end up soul bound just like percy and grover

Juliet is a child of Athena

Lassie is a child of Ares and if your going by the show there's a super funny joke about how he looks exactly like Hephaestus but is the son of the guy he hates most, haha

Shawn KILLS at capture the flag

No one believes him when he says he doesn't have charm speak

Instead of becoming a SB Psychic, he ends up being this crime solving traveling cryptid (he's gotta keep moving bc monsters) (dont worry, he still visits camp pretty often and likes to drop by Santa Barbara to solve crimes and piss off his dad)

There was also a lengthy convo about each gods opinion of him of any of you wanna hear that

Shawn is the muse of doing weird shit

Also art lover shawn 🔛🔝, he's got plenty of muse talent, yall

Instead of pretending to be a psychic, he's pretending to NOT be muse adjacent

And now, a list of Gods people keep guessing for Shawn

Dionysus, Hermes, Athena, Aphrodite, Apollo, Hecate

And finally, gay people real???

As you can see, we mostly talked about Shawn lol

[elvirable]

Ambrosia (Act 2)

[ Astarion x f!Reader ] | ao3 link

rating: explicit | word count: 3.9k | status: ongoing themes/tags: no smut this chapter, mainly fluff and angst, feelings realization, trust issues ofc, soulmates, fluff, written as a glimpse into his mind during each act

———–

For decades, men and woman succumbed to his charms; each wilting petal after petal, as if they were roses, against the grasp of his thorns. So, which one would you be: petal or thorn?

In other words: A delve into Astarion's thoughts, continuing the more he gets to know you. [Act 1 link]

———– A/N: thank you for all the supportive comments! you have no idea what it means to me (and also the imposter syndrome i have now lol). i apologize if you find any errors this chapter since i've been dealing with health issues as of late; also, i plan to post another chapter that deals with act 2 events.

---------

It was cliché, but Astarion had never trusted love  — or really, any notion he had of it.

Delicate breaths, starry-eyed crooning, careful whispers; within a heartbeat, every precious detail could mutate into a terrifying, stinging sword. After all, who would know better than the one who held the blade? 

Oh, how he wielded it exceptionally well. Syllables dripped like sugar from his tongue, and pretty prose hummed into bashful ears as second nature. To many chaste victims of his ardor, he was a captivating vision; a gentleman who stole them away with one well-planted kiss. As if each was a rose, petal after petal wilted against the grasp of his thorns. 

Even without the blood staining his hands, he had also witnessed how others despicably wielded such power. A harsh aftertaste always lingered in its wake; whether it be couples bickering with poison on their tongues or the welts that peppered young, gentle faces after a drunken outing turned sour. Horrific renditions had darkened the world around him decade after decade  — so anything that alluded to the pure reputation of love felt like an insulting, foolish fantasy.

So, which one would you be: petal or thorn?

The question plagued his thoughts since the moment he laid eyes on you. Beautiful and altogether lovely, especially as he later learned the touch of those careful hands and every tone hidden in your irises. Assuming you for a petal, he stumbled with doubt as his observations grew. For instance, you never initiated anything intimate aside from considerate conversation and, oftentimes, you had volunteered your neck for the sole reason it would improve his strength and mood. Where men and women in days past couldn't get enough of him, there you were: without an ounce of insecure obsession or malice on your lips, only serving to confound him more. Regardless, he had always prepared to expect that impending sting.

Only time could tell, of course  — but it had never arrived.

Nothing about you was petal, thorn, or even a rose at all, from what he struggled to gather. He couldn’t decipher any hidden motive, and you were buoyant against his charms; he had had you lost in throes of blissful pleasure, but you never demanded more the next morning. Everything about you seemed so plain yet inexplicable, as if he couldn’t make head nor tail of what laid before him. 

What he did know, however, was the captivating radiance that had had gradually engulfed him. Subtle it was when his smile piqued as he heard your laugh or when he began to learn your language well; the way your face contorted in provoked thought, or that your lips drew into a taut pout when nervousness preoccupied you. 

It had dawned on him one late evening, realization cascading over him at all once, when he noticed the slightest shift in your glance. Lamplight flickered against your bare skin when he had asked a simple question.

“My favorite things? Well..,” you mused quietly. “I love lavender and a generous glass of tethyrian wine  — oh, and the way the air smells before a thunderstorm.”

“And what would that be?” he had asked, half-lidded eyes studying your expressions.

“I’m not quite sure how to describe it,” a smile flitted across your beautiful face as if you could conjure the scent from memory. “It’s oddly warm and sweet, but.. refreshing.”

And Astarion thought that such a distinct description suited this newfound radiance; intricate, warm, and refreshingly natural.  

==

Now that he had given it proper thought, it had been awhile since they had wine.

Earlier, on a whim, Astarion suggested they pocket every carafe they found that day. A resounding collective enthusiasm filled the group; recent days had been fraught and demanding to say the least, so it was needless to say such a suggestion was welcomed. And by their luck, they had stumbled upon the jackpot that afternoon: full-bodied wines, waterdhavian cheeses, and a wonderful curation of spiced meats  — all within a deserted Zhentarim storehouse.

Two hours had barely passed when the entire camp had become boisterously inebriated. For once, other members embraced Gale’s attempts to break ground with superficial conversation starters such as vague inquiries into their past or favorite meals. 

He had been surprised at the pleasant sensation, being surrounded by chattering comrades. Tales of their past and insights into their character had piqued his interest, inviting him to alter certain preconceived opinions. However, the person who interested him the most hadn’t uttered more than a few sentences.

While you had shared some casual anecdotes, relief had eased your face when Gale began to digress about the constellations freckling the sky. He was keen to notice such a successful evasion, as it was one he had practiced countless of times.

It wasn’t long before the others slinked into their tents, eager for the comfort of their beds. Astarion waited to hear the steady pace of Gale’s snoring to quietly gather the surroundings; only the two of you were left to the quiet of midnight, with embers of firelight keeping the warmth beneath the stars.

“I noticed,” he prompted, slowly turning his head towards you, “that you refrained from sharing your life ‘before the worm’ .”

An amused breath pushed from your nose, humored by the phrase the group had used earlier. Your brows then raised, smile on your rosy face as you matched his stare. 

“You really want to know?” 

“Only if you’ll oblige,” his tone was soft before he enunciated. “Do spare me the details, though, if it's all family excursions and Maxwell the family dog. ”

Your quiet chuckle faded off as you turned your gaze upwards, briefly leaving only the crackling embers to fill the air. 

“Okay, okay  — but it isn’t.. nice ,” you conceded with hesitant words.

And you had only summarized for about fifteen minutes, but each word was succinct and precise; about the darkness that felt forever, the silent spirals, and the long-gone silhouettes that had hurt you like it was nothing. As he attentively listened, he didn’t need further detail for his face to melt into a soft frown with shared understanding  — Heavens, the heartache that coiled in his chest as he imagined all the tragedy you had endured as a little one; how a heavenly being could have such a haunted history.

“But you must think my woes pale in comparison,” you cleared your throat, in an attempt to act unbothered while turning your gaze to him, “.. given all you’ve shared with me.”

There was a softened, appreciative gaze that you both shared  — where he felt as if you peered inside at the boy he had once been, and vice versa.

“Hardly, I was actually just thinking how nice it is that..” his voice was almost a whisper before he continued:

“Neither of us are alone anymore. We have… each other.” 

== 

The cost of freedom was always high, but would he be prepared to pay it? 

And besides  — hadn’t he paid enough already?

A nauseating trepidation rushed over him as Raphael’s voice echoed in his head; relentless and heavy, like the rain that quieted the camp that afternoon. Leadened with the weight of reality, Astarion sat motionless amongst the linens covering his bedroll. His pale hand was drawn to his face, running across his lips with an unease. The patter of rain against the tent was the only comfort he had in the heavy silence, for it was as if the Earth shared in his agony. 

“The only missing ingredient is you.”

Ugh, Raphael’s smug grin curdled a disgusting frustration in his throat. 

Fate had gifted him a blessing and a curse; what was once mere fantasy now brushed his fingertips. He knew the beginning and the inevitable end of this tale; the will of the Gods had swept him from those chambers and presented him his only chance to strike down Cazador. However, the middle had always been painfully opaque – until a deal with a devil made it tangible and clear. Such an undertaking called for impeccable execution, and countless possibilities haunted his mind. It was a terribly overwhelming feat to take on alone. 

Yet, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone. 

He had that tinkering brain of yours. Receptive to his every rant and rave, you were no stranger to a majority of his worries and frequently mellowed out the frenzied ones. There was structure to every word that left your mouth, and you never hesitated to lend your blade when he had made his decision. He had gradually grown to feel that he performed infinitely better when you were by side.

Though, while he previously would have never blinked an eye at sacrificing his fellow spawn  — it was now your influence that caused him to grapple with uncertainty.

Sodden steps approached, rousing him from his silent ruminations. 

“You’re.. quiet,” you observed, the tent rustling while you entered. “It’s unsettling, given how much you love to fuss about the rain.”

Silence hung briefly in the air, cushioned by the padding of rain. The warm smile on your lips faltered to a weaker one, the dread sullening his face evident. 

“I wanted to ask about Cazador’s ritual. You must be thinking about it?”

“Oh, the thing that will decide my fate forever more?” His tone sharpened, anguish fizzling into frustration. An icy whiplash caused you to pause before settling beside him. He continued, shuffling to make space for you amongst the furs and pillows.

“ Yes , it has been on my mind – why?”

“I just want to know what your intentions are.”

“What? I’ve obviously thought about it – if I was the one who completed the ritual, I’d have such power. And I could walk in the sun without fear I’d turn into a mindflayer.”

“I don’t think you should do it,” your voice was solemn with caution, as if you sounded each word out carefully. 

“A pity then,” his sneer fell from his tongue without thought, “that it’s not your decision to make.”

Pangs of remorse immediately crawled up his throat in the aftermath of his outburst, and he internally recoiled at himself. Catching the short flit of disappointment in your eyes slackened his jaw, rousing the contrition further. Every word escaped him while his marbled eyes flickered across your face; your lips were taut with dismay, brows giving way to disconcertion, until it eased into a vacant expression.

Rising onto your feet, you began to leave from his tent with a flippant wave.

“You’re right,” you muttered, dropping the subject. “I’ll see you later, if you’d like.”

All he could do was dwell in the silence as he watched you disappear into your own tent. Faster and heavier the rain fell, and he threw his head back with a miffed sigh. His lips pursed while he replayed the entire interaction in his head.

Of course, he had every reason to be angry and bothered. He should’ve been helped long ago, way before any of this had become the fate thrown onto him  — but there was no proper excuse to flare up at you. You were the only person that had shown him any sympathy and loyalty. 

Astarion knew you spoke with good reason, that your weary expression revealed you weighed your comment from private consideration. There was a vast cavern beneath those eyes, full of fierce emotions and earnest sincere spirits; eyes that did not judge, but watched and learned. Your presence alone was enough to soothe him, and its absence immense.

It had become so natural to remove his confident mask around you, he realized, especially now when he had let the ugly side slip.

[workingforthewidow]

What is up bitches and hoes. Ya girl is back. And by back I mean my cat brain was able to hyper fixate on something long enough to write for it. Also I’m in my ‘final girl’ ‘slasher fucker’ era. So be prepared for some fucked up shit. I am unhinged and hot for men that wear masks and kill people and people that just kill people in general. So onto the show. This is my first time writing and posting in forever so plz be nice lol

18+

Pairings: Otis Driftwood X Stockholm syndrome!reader (darling is in so deep there’s no coming back). Reader X platonic Firefly family.

She/her pronouns for reader. I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum, did mention pulling readers hair a lot but I mean i pull my husbands hair a lot and he has short hair so yeah.

Warnings: as stated reader is in deep for Otis like so much Stockholm syndrome going on. Slight smut. I think like 1 single use of Daddy in a power play way. Reference to non-con. This is Otis we are talking about so he can be a warning himself. But also OOC Otis. His mood swings will give you whiplash. Blood. Lots of blood. Killing people. Guns used in a sexual way. Knives. If there’s any major i missed please let me know! But yeah- don’t like it don’t read it.

Word count: 4,245

God i am so feral for this man.

Also a big THANK YOU and I LOVE YOU to the person who inspired me to write again go check out their work if you haven’t: @lovely-cryptid

Ugh i am so nervous to post this but imma do it! Link to part 2

She sometimes wondered if her family even knew she was missing or that she had even left. The whole reason she was out on that lonely road was her attempt to leave everything behind, everyone behind. So in a sense she did succeed in that but this was not what she had in mind when she pictured her freedom from her mother and her step-father. She had pictured herself in a big city with a cute little apartment with big windows that looked out over a park or maybe water. She’d have a good job but nothing too fancy. Working in a bookstore maybe or a flower shop. Something where she could be creative. But this wasn’t that magical place. Not even close.

Well you could say that she got to be creative in some sense. If you count being the muse and model for an insane blood thirsty ‘artist’ as creative. Sometimes he did let her pick out some of the smaller details of his work. Like how the hair was styled if it involved a human. But for the most part she was there for him to use when he needed to take out his anger and frustration. “Fucking my pretty little princess always cures the artist block” he would say as he pounded into her without a care for how she felt. All that matter was he got his dick wet. She didn’t mind thought. It kept him happy and she loved him when he was happy. He was kinder.

She could have never imagine this would be her life when she ran out of her mother’s house a year ago. A year, had it really been a year? Was it October already? She couldn’t be too sure. He rarely let her out of his, their, room unless it was to eat at the table as a family. The last time she was able to see a calendar was in August when he took her to the ‘museum’ to give Captain Spaulding the newest exhibit.

She had to beg on her knees for him to let her come along with him. That led to him agreeing with a stipulation of course, “Already on your knees princess might as put that mouth to work. Show me how badly you wanna go.” After giving into his demands she was able to leave the Firefly house and make the trip to see Spaulding. They only stayed a few minutes. Enough time for him to set up his ‘art’ and for her to see that the calendar read “August 17” but looking back what if that was wrong? It didn’t have the year on it, that calendar could have been from 5 years ago for all she knew.

At that point she figured she might as well ask him the date. She had been good the last few weeks. He had even told her that himself. He was being nicer only calling her a slut or a whore when he was fucking her in anger. But now he was calling her sweet things like ‘princess and sweetheart’ he had even called her baby once. But Baby heard him say that and hit the fan mad. Not that Baby didn’t like her. In all fairness her and Baby had become pretty good friends. She would even dare to say best friends. When he was being nice he would let Baby come to the room and talk to her. If he was being really nice and she had been really good for him, he would let her go to Baby’s room. That was the best. Baby would do her hair and makeup and dress her up in pretty outfits. He only let her wear her tiny jean shorts, which she was pretty sure he had cut shorter then when she bought them and a shirt that barely covered her breast. During the winter he had let her wear one of his flannel shirts over her outfit after Mama Firefly got onto him when the poor girl about froze to death. Texas winters could be as brutal as Texas summers if you were in the right place.

“Otis?” She called softly from her place on the bed but then cringed when she realized her mistake. He had been working on a new ‘project’ all morning his back to her and she couldn’t really see what was being created.

“Try again Princess. Get it right or I’ll have to punish you. And you’ve been so good for me for so long.” He didn’t even turn to look at her but she knew he was smirking to himself. He always found pleasure in the little roles he had created for them. But this was no game or play that came to end. This was her life.

“I’m sorry Daddy,” Otis was sure if he hadn’t had been listening for the response it would have been too soft for him to hear. He heard the bed squeak signaling she had moved. In the corner of his eye he could see her kneel next to him and soon felt her hand on his thigh. He looked down to see her staring up at him with her big innocent eyes. His innocent little pretty princess. His naive little sweetheart.

“Good girl, what do you want?” He ran his hand through her hair once before grabbing a fist full at the base of her skull forcing her to stay looking up at him.

“Um, I, I, um. Just was wondering, what’s the date?”

“Tuesday.” Was that all she wanted. Interrupted his work for that.

“No, like what is the date? Like what month is it and the day?”

He tightened his fist in her hair making her whine at the pain “Why the fuck does it matter? Have some place to be? A hot date waiting for you?”

With tears pricking at her eyes she tried to follow his hand to relieve the pressure on her head. “No, no. I only want to be here with you. No where else. With no one else.” She made her eyes wide again trying to get back on his good side with her innocent look. He loved that look.

He loosened his grip on her hair and scratched his chin as if he had to think long and hard about the date.

“It’s October 30. Now why the fuck does it matter? It ain’t your birthday seeing as Baby isn’t fucking around insisting on a party for her little best friend. So what’s so important about today huh?” He had bent down his nose brushing against hers lips barely brushing.

“It’s been a year. A year since you brought me home with you.” She smiled. He may be mean when he’s angry but she did fell at home with him. He did care for her. He did love her. At least that’s what she told herself.

“Didn’t think you’d be so much a little romantic princess. What you want some little anniversary dinner? Think I’m gonna buy you little presents? This is your present sweetheart. You ain’t dead.” He growled in her ear and moved away from her face. “Now get back on the bed and shut your fucking mouth. I’m almost done and if you interrupt again I’ll have Tiny take you down to the basement for the night.”

Her eyes went wide in terror. She hated the basement. Tiny wasn’t bad, they had become pretty good friends. But the basement was not fun. It was dark and cold and damp. Otis had made her stay in the basement when he first brought her to the house after picking her up off the side of road where her car had ‘broken down’ aka where RJ had shot her tires out. It took her a few days to calm down and stop the kicking and screaming. It had only taken a few whips with his belt and the threats of deaths for her to finally listen to him. But she realized once she was being good that he did just want what was best for her. She saw how many girls he brought in and killed. But he chose her. He saved her and kept her safe. Kept her warm and well fed. And as long as she was good for him he was good to her.

“Yes, sir.” She responded quickly as it was a toss up if he wanted her response at all or if that itself would get her to the basement. She crawled back up the bed and laid out on her stomach facing him so she could watch him work. He was painting today.

He turned briefly looking to see if she followed his demand. Which she had, as she always did- his perfect little princess. How lucky he was when he found her. He hadn’t planned originally on keeping her but she was different from the others. She screamed sure but there was something about her eyes. He could tell she was naive but also wouldn’t mind some blood. Her eyes screamed innocence but at the same time he could tell she had seen some of the horrors of this world. He would later learn that horror of hers was from her abusive parents. She didn’t tell him outright but her nightmares usually came along with sleep talking and he had pried a lot of her in her unconscious state.

“Good girl, princess.” He praised her before turning back to his work. She did as she was told and stayed silent for the next hour while he worked. Finally by midnight he was done and she had passed out waiting for him on the bed. He grabbed her hair again and pulled her up, her hands flying up to grab his wrist and looked up at him with now wide awake eyes. “All done princess. You want dinner?”

Oh right they didn’t eat dinner. Odd, Baby normally always came to collect them for dinner when Otis was working. She knew that he would get caught up in his work and forget to feed her little best friend.

She nodded as best she could with his grip on her hair. “Yes please.” She didn’t realize how hungry she was until the thought of dinner crossed her mind.

“Come on then hurry up. Put these on.” He ordered throwing her short skirt and shoes at her. Why was he making wear her shoes? The skirt she knew, even if it barely covered her it was enough to keep Hugo off her a bit. But the shoes? She wasn’t supposed to wear shoes in the house that was one of the rules. “Mama didn’t make enough dinner for us. Seems she forgot about us. Figured I’d be nice and take you somewhere. That’s what you wanted right? Some kinda anniversary dinner?”

“If that’s what you want. I just want to make you happy.” She said slipping on her shoes as ordered.

“Of course you do sweetheart. Come on lets go.” Otis grabbed her wrist and pulled her down the stairs and out to his truck. He threw her into the passenger seat before getting in the driver side. Once the truck was started the radio came on playing her favorite Frank Sinatra song.

She gasped and smiled wide. “I love this song.” She said without thinking before clasping her hand over her mouth. Another one of his rules- Don’t speak unless given permission. She looked up at him with her big eyes. “I’m sorry I was just excited and…”

Otis moved his hand to her thigh gripping the skin so hard she knew she’d have a handprint shaped mark in the morning. She stilled and waiting for his next move.

“Don’t have to apologize for that sweetheart. You’ve been a good girl. Maybe it’s time to change the rules a little, yeah?” He smiled at her with his wicked smile that would send shivers down anyone else’s spine and pulled her closer to him running his hand higher up her thigh. “You be a good girl while we’re out and when we get home. Tomorrow I’ll think about changing your rules.”

She took a breath. He was happy with her. So happy he was going to change her rules. Maybe she would be allowed to leave the room without him. Spend more time with Baby and Tiny. Or even Mama. She loved Mama. Mama was everything she wished her mother had been.

Finally Otis pulled the truck off to a 24 hour roadside dinner. There were only a couple cars, probably belonging to the workers, and a few long haul trucks. Otis got out and pulled her along with him. Once her feet hit the ground he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her forehead, “Be good.” It was a simple command and a simple warning. “Be good” meant not only behave in general but also “don’t you dare tell anyone what happens at home.” He had only taken her out in public once, outside of her trips to Captain Spaulding’s, when he took her to buy her new outfits for her to wear for him. And by outfits of course that means bras that barely hold her tits and panties that barely covered anything. Along with a few short skirts and shorts. He didn’t like when Hugo eyed his woman. But oh how Otis loved to see his princess dressed up for him.

She reached up and kissed him on his cheek. She knew he loved it when she showed him affection. “Of course. Always a good girl for you.” She promised him.

They made it to the door and he was even kind enough to hold the door open for her. The waitress at the counter greeted them and told them to find a seat anywhere. He found them a booth far in the corner away from everyone else and pulled her down in his lap grabbing the menu. He let her trail her fingers over it reading each line and finally pointing out what she wanted. Of course, the sweetest thing on the menu. The waitress made her way over and smiled at them.

“Y’all need a minute or are you ready to order?”

Otis tightened his grip on her waist and she knew that meant stay quiet.

“Water, coffee, bacon and scrambled eggs, and the waffles.” He didn’t even look the waitress in the eye. “Chocolate chips on the waffles.”

She must have been really good if he was letting her have sweet treats.

The waitress nodded, writing down the order, before going to the kitchen.

They sat in silence. His hand drifting up and down her leg as they waited. A few minutes go by and the waitress reappears with a tray holding the drinks and food. “Here ya go darlings. Anything else?” Otis waves her off with a huff and she retreats back to the counter where a few truckers are sitting.

He takes a slice of bacon and chews it loudly in her ear before holding a piece to her mouth. “Eat up princess. I’ve been thinking about this whole anniversary non-sense and I think if I’m being so nice getting you this food then when we get home we will play one of our little games.”

She nodded happily, giggling and wiggling in his lap feel him grow harder under her. Playing games meant he was happy and in a good mood. She let him feed her until the plates were cleared. The waitress returned at that point slapping the bill on the table before turning on her heel walking away. She obviously did not enjoy being waved off earlier.

“Did you like it Princess? Wanna come back?” Was the game already starting? He didn’t normally ask her her preferences. “I didn’t like. I don’t think we’ll be back.”

“It was okay. Not as good as Mama’s cooking.” Mama made the best waffles.

Without a word and without looking at the bill Otis stood up and started walking her to the door.

“Sir you need to pay the bill! Excuse me!” The waitress yelled from behind the counter. Otis smirked down at his girl and chuckled darkly. He then whirled around and pull his gun from his waistband.

“I don’t have to do shit bitch.” He then grabbed her hand and threw her back in the truck speeding away towards home.

He was driving far past the speed limit, as fast as a bat out of hell. She looked up at him with her big eyes then down at the gun in-between them in the seat of the truck. He had never brought it out in front of her. He liked to use his knifes, belts, or even his hands on her. She couldn’t even name a time she had a gun this close outside of being on a police officers hip.

“Not gonna fucking bite you. What the little princess never seen a gun before?” He eyes burned on her. She shook her head. “Well then Princess, why don’t we start the game now?” He grabbed the gun and pressed it against against her temple. “Open those legs pretty girl.” She did as she was told and he moved the gun down her body until it was between her legs. “You fucking get off on this and cum without permission I will blow your brains out. Don’t care how much a pretty fuck you are. Understood?”

She let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding, “Yes.”

He slid the barrel of the gun against her folds making her shiver against the cold metal. He kept it up at a steady pace for what felt like hours but he made sure to never reach right where she wanted him. She was looking straight ahead trying to find any landmarks showing they were close to home. Right as she was about to work up the nerve to ask him, he finally hit her sweet spot. She moaned and threw her head back.

“There we go princess. Don’t forget the rules.” He moved faster bringing her close to the edge and pulling away. Finally the light of the house came into view. He stopped the truck but continued playing with her for a few minutes before pulling the gun away from her core.

He looked it over before grabbing her chin, “Open wide sweetheart. You made my gun dirty, now you gotta suck it clean. Be a good girl.” Be a good girl. Yes she is a good girl for him. She opened her mouth sticking out her tongue letting him slide the barrel into her mouth. She began licking and sucking her juices off the shiny metal when she heard a click. She gulped and looked at him to see his wicked smile. “Good girls don’t have to worry if the safety is off. And you’re a good girl right?” She nodded and continued until he finally pulled away wiping her spit off on his shirt. He then got out of the truck pulling her along with him as always. “Good girl, now you have 2 minutes to get that pretty ass upstairs and ready in our room. Wear the white.” Oh he really wanted to play today. He only had her wear a white set if he intended to stain it red. “Timer’s already started Princess I’d hurry if I was you.” He slapped her hard on her ass kicking her into gear. She darted into the house trying to be careful not to knock anything over. She reached the threshold of their room when she heard him slam the front door shut meaning she had about 1 minute left. She ripped off her clothes and threw on the first white lace bra and panties she could find. Once she was dressed she dropped to her knees sitting back on her heels, hands in her lap, looking up and waiting.

Otis finally opened the bedroom door and smirked at the sight before him. She was so pretty like that. Ready and waiting to suck his cock. He walked up to her stripping his clothes as he walked holding his belt in his hands. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes? On the bed arms up.”

She followed his orders and laid down arms against the headboard. She knew the drill at this point. He looped the belt around her wrist securing her to the bed. He then tied a blindfold around her eyes. This game was her favorite. She didn’t know why but he always was happier after they played this game.

A drawer opened and she heard the clicks of metal against metal. She then felt an ice cold blade against her throat. “One sound. One single sound and I will gut you like a pig. Got it?” She nodded to the best of her ability. “Good girl now be quiet.” The knife moved across her body slowly. She had yet to feel skin break. He moved up and down her arms and her legs. Around her bellybutton and traced the insides of her thighs. Then the feeling was gone. And she heard the rustling sound of clothes being thrown on and the bedroom door slamming.

This wasn’t part of the game. He was suppose to cut her, carve his name on her and lick the blood. Slice her up with tiny cuts that would bead some bubbles of blood enough for him to paint her in but not enough to kill her or even truly hurt her. But he never left before it was over. He didn’t always stay long afterwards, aftercare is not in his vocabulary but he never left before they were done.

Had he decided he was done with her? Was he going to get RJ and Tiny so they could be ready to take her body when he was done with it? Questions and thoughts started whirling in her head. Fear creeping up on her. She was alone again. She was alone and going to die. Her life with the Firefly’s wasn’t perfect but it was hers and she was enjoying it.

Tears started to slip from her eyes wetting the blindfold that had been tied to her. Maybe he was going to leave her here to starve. Let her have a final meal and then starve her. Her tears soon turned to sobs and before she knew it her breathing was getting shaky. Everything was spinning even though she couldn't see anything. Her brain was spinning it felt like. Her body was shaking violently.

“The fuck is wrong with you girl?” His voice boomed into the room and he removed his belt from her hands pulling her into his lap before taking off the blindfold. He was being oddly kind, like he was worried about her.

She continued to shake and sob for a minute before finally calming down enough to look at him. “You, you, you left. You never leave until the game is finished. Left me alone again.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Someone wondered up the property Princess. Had to make sure the cops weren’t showing up. Don’t need the pigs here when I have a pretty little runaway in my bed.” Then in a rare moment, a very rare moment that had only happened once when he was drunk but she counted it because it was the only time it happened; he kissed her. Like a real kiss from someone you love not a power play. “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to you Princess. I promise.”

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him like he was the center of her whole universe, “You won’t abandon me, right?” It was barely a whisper almost as if she was unsure if she could ask.

Otis brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead, “You’re mine forever silly girl. I love you.”

Those three words. The three little words he knew would hook her right in again. He didn’t have to worry about anything as long as he dangled that little carrot in front of her face once every couple weeks. He wasn’t sure if he even meant it. In the beginning he knew he didn’t but now as time had gone on he wasn’t sure anymore. Maybe this pretty little princess from the other side of Texas was changing him.

“I love you too.” She sighed kissing his neck before snuggling into him. There would be no wicked game for a few hours. He would be kind. He would let her sleep next to him. Let her snuggle up on his chest while he played with her hair. Let her have a few hours where they played like they were a normal couple, just a man and his girl sleeping the night away.

But Otis Driftwood was anything but just a man. He was different and he knew it. But she was different too. Maybe she was meant to be here. Meant to be his girl forever. But that was a problem for another day. A day when he was 7 beers deep and didn't have to think too hard.

“Goodnight Princess you can sleep now. I ain't going anywhere. And when you wake up, I’ll let you go to Baby’s room.” He kissed her hair again and moved them down on the bed throwing the blanket over them.

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

I just had this thought, what if reader is from the time of when the real writers existed? Dazai would totally be jealous of his real self for being able to unalive lmao. And ranpo and his real self...

Yeah... It ofc wouldn't be possible since that means reader would have to be from the 60's? But I just had this sudden thought lol

Actually, I have an idea for that.

I kind off have a sub-au for Self-Aware BSD AU. "The Sandman" inspired AU.

Reader are Dream.

An eternal deity, Master of Dreams, Ruler of Nightmares, Patron of Artists, Architectures, Writers. The Muse.

They saw them all.

Visible for them and their families, Reader saw their lives and their deaths.

Reader's kingdom is accessible for both living and for deceased. So, BSD Characters up to some interesting encounters.

-Short idea time-

You and BSD Cast are having a tea party.

Y/N: Please, be careful while wishing for something in my kingdom. With powers of Dreams you can achieve many great things, but, at the same time, you can fall from grace by using it.

/Suddenly, everyone is hearing barking from the next room. You rolled your eyes./

Y/N: Not again...

/RL! Dazai Osamu stormed into the room and, somehow, jumped on your shoulders. A small pack of pugs is following him. RL! Nakahara Chuuya is glaring at Dazai from the next room./

Y/N: looking at RL!Chuuya, trying not to move so much, so RL! Dazai won't fall down. Chuuya, how many times did I tell you not to wish for dogs so you can scare away Osamu? with a wave of a hand make pugs disappear. RL! Chuuya still looked pleased, left without the world.

/You look up. RL! Dazai seems pretty content with staying up on your shoulders. He is looking at BSD Cast with slight curiosity. You continue talking to BSD Characters, not paying attention to their shocked gazes./

Y/N: Where were I.... Right, dream powers...

/BSD Dazai raise his hand/

BSD! Dazai: [Y/N], is that..?

[Y/N]: nod Mhm. Our Dazai Osamu. The one, who succeed. slightly clap RL! Dazai on the ankle At least say 'Hello', if you are planning to stay on my shoulders.

/RL! Dazai takes another look at BSD! Gang. Pinches your ear./

RL! Dazai: Dream, why is a redhead in a hat makes me feel so angry?

[Y/N]: sighs Because I overdid it, when Kafka and Harukawa asked for more stories about writers.

/BSD! Dazai is speechless. On one hand, he felt jealous for looking at hos namesake, who succeeded. On the other hand, it was so weird, looking at your double? Prototype?/

/You looked up at RL/Dazai/

[Y/N]: I will tell everyone what is happening later.

/RL! Dazai hopped down on the floor./

RL! Dazai: Waiting for it. Well, see you around. /ready to leave, when he remembered something/ By the way, two lovebirds were looking for you. Want to have a shooting competition and asked you to be the judge.

/You hide your face in both hands./

[Y/N]: If you are talking about Verlaine and Rimbaud, remind them, that they still not allowed to touch any sort of weapon. cover both of your wrists under your shirt¹ If you are talking about Ranpo and Iwata, then I will free in a few hours.

/RL! Dazai nods and, after saying goodbye to BSD Cast, leave. The room is silent./

BSD! Ranpo: barely a whisper I have so many questions... And I am so afraid to ask...

/You smile/

[Y/N]: Don't think about it too much. You will get used to it.

/RL! Oda Sakunosuke barge into the room./

RL! Oda: [Y/N]! Goncharov and Turgenev got drunk and start arguing about plagiarism!²

/You stand up and hurry after the Oda/

[Y/N]: Stay here! I will be back in a few minutes.

/BSD Gang looked at each other. They have a feeling, that their lives will be interesting/

______

¹Real life Verlaine shot Rimbaud in the wrist once. Apparently, Dream also was shot by him.

² Real life Turgenev and Goncharov had a huge argument, that ended in court. Goncharov thought, that Turgenev stole the plot of "The Precipice" for his novel "Home of the Gentry". Goncharov shared his ideas about "The Precipice" with Turgenev, so he had the reason to think about it. Judge make Turgenev took too similar plot points from the book.

[conkers-thecosy]

Hi Conkers!

I've just read the ask where you mentioned your original works, could you tell us something about them? I read more fiction than fanfiction so I'm always looking forward to the next good story 😁

Hope you'll have a lovely day, and no pressure to answer this anytime soon (or at all, if the mood doesn't strike!)

Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Hullo!!

Thank you for sending this, but I hope you know what you've done by asking me about them! 😂 Brace yourself!!

Okay, so I have a few ideas for original stories, but the two that I've started are "The Prince & The Botanist" and "All's Fair". I write exclusively queer fiction and romance, because when I was a gay little kid growing up there wasn't a lot of variation, and certainly no fantasy novels with queer leading characters! (Which I suspect is why I projected so much onto The Hobbit and LotR, and Bilbo in particular)

"The Prince & The Botanist" is my murder mystery! It's about a reclusive botanist, Dante Morsatra, who has isolated himself from the rest of the nobility, and started up a sort of school/apprenticeship for the common folk. He's considered pretty odd, and the Court all give him a wide berth and let him get on with it, until one day someone who antagonised him and made his life miserable growing up is brutally poisoned. One of the princes of the realm, Lucien Advaris, is put in charge of finding the culprit, but after meeting Dante he decides to use his knowledge of botany as a resource, all while keeping an eye on his prime suspect.

Despite having started this wayyyy before I started writing fic for The Hobbit, I'll be honest and say this one is extremely bagginshield coded! To the point where I actually considered turning it into an AU, lol.

"All's Fair" is my captured princess/enemies-to-lovers story! Alenia is my leading lady, a lonely princess who's waiting to come of age so she can be wed in a political marriage arranged by her father and older brother, but the realm is at war, and shortly after her father rides out to lead the failing armies of their country, they lose. The enemies are at the gates and take over the capital in a single night. Virion, the new ruler of the country, decides to keep Alenia and her older brother, Alosrin, alive as hostages to make the transition of power easier and not rouse any sympathy in the people who don't currently seem inclined to fight back against the new regime. Virion finds Alenia much easier to deal with than her older brother, so the pair of them end up speaking often, playing chess of an evening, and eventually making a deal to benefit them both!

*Sighs happily*

Thank you for asking me about them! I have such an itch to work on them at the moment (specifically "All's Fair") but I want to finish BTTW and Soldier, Poet, King first, at the very least! In the meantime, any chance to info-dump about them is helping to soothe my muse while I focus on other things, haha!

Hope you're having a wonderful day!!

[its-short-for-jackalope]

okay so it seems like a pretty safe bet that Kal used to have Radiance, right? He was a traveler like Sia and Margaret, and Sia talks about Itzal poisoning Kal's mind—but maybe it wasn't just his mind that Itzal poisoned, but his magic? The fog as corrupted, twisted Radiance is one of my favorite theories & I really hope it's proven right at some point in the narrative, lol.

(I would also just like to learn more about it in general, even if it disproves that theory. GIMME THE TRAVELORE™!!!!!!! pretty please! 🙏)

anyway, @snarky-wallflower asked me what ideas I had for how a traveler could acquire fog magic and I kinda got carried away, lol.

Musings about Radiance corruption below the cut!

⚠️ I think what I wrote could count as body horror, so please be mindful of that! ⚠️

One option is that it's a slow, gradual corruption. whatever the process is—spell, poison/potion, infection—it takes time. and it probably hurts. your DNA is being rewritten and changed strand by strand, cell by cell, and it probably feels like sickness, like you're dying, and the Radiance is trying to burn it out of you. the thing you've known all your life, the magic that has been your tool and your source of power, of protection is turning against you, and you can't stop it and you can't turn it off. it's instinctive.

but eventually, when the fog takes hold and smothers out the last bits of light, it doesn't feel so sick or unnatural anymore. it probably feels like relief. the darkness is a blessing, and there's a new power thrumming in your blood where the Radiance used to burn. It probably feels cool and thick, a weight you can always feel in your chest when you breathe, whereas the Radiance was light and hot, weightless, nothing as tangible or real as the fog curling inside you.

the other possibility is that it's fast, merciless and invasive. maybe the Radiance has to be torn out of you before something else can take its place. you're in blinding agony as the core of you is stripped away—maybe it is a mercy if it's all at once, imagine losing who you are one painful chunk at a time—and it's over quickly, yes, but the memory of it haunts you and now you're just a shell, wounded and raw. and the fog is like a soothing balm as it fills that gaping void inside you, but it feels so alien, it feels wrong, it feels like you died and something else has taken your place. you aren't YOU anymore. the person you used to be was gone the moment they gutted you and stole your Radiance.

...or perhaps the Radiance isn't an obstacle to be removed but something to be beaten into submission, to be destroyed from the inside. maybe the fog is so thick and overpowering that it sinks into you and chokes out that light in a matter of minutes. you can feel the Radiance writhing inside you, fighting against this dark invader. there is a war in your body, and you are the casualty. the fog is what wins—you're just a survivor.

did you survive? are you sure? it doesn't matter, it's already over and you have a King to obey.

[aceofwhump]

Hi Ace! How are you? I was going to ask if you have any fic recommendations of 911?

Oh my god yes so many lol. I hope you like Buck whump, gen, 118 family stuff!

Bring me back by Stennerd Summary: It's been months since the tsunami and Buck had been doing just fine. All it took was walking through water to bring it all crashing back.

Kindness: What Connects Us by FandomLife54 Summary: Still off balance, Buck slams his left heel onto the roof, heaving forward to catch the collar of that yellow shirt. And there’s no conscious decision making here. It’s all instinct, and he’s grateful for it. If he’d given his overzealous mind the chance to consider another way, he would have missed his shot. Instead, his arms hurl the boy into the hands of another survivor… And his right foot misses the edge. OR Buck catches Chris before he rolls off the firetruck, and it's him who falls back into the retreating waters of the tsunami. Unconscious and seriously injured, he's unaware that his team has been searching for him, never giving up as the days pass.

Of Bikes and Concussions by datleggy Summary: Buck gets into an accident on his way to work in the morning, and before he can explain why he's late, he gets thoroughly chewed out and the rest of his day goes way downhill from there.

denial's hard, breathing's harder by carefulren Summary: After a water rescue that almost ends badly, Buck comes down with a cold. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself despite getting worse.

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger...Right? by McGeeklover Summary: Four Times we could've seen so much more Buck Whump, Eddie caring and 118 protectiveness and one time it could've been a lot worse.

Radio Silence by madamewriterofwrongs Summary: “Don’t worry, we’re on our way to you.” “No.” His halting voice echoed through the radios gathered around the truck and everyone stopped. Eddie kept running. “The whole quadrant’s unstable. Sweep’s done. It’s not safe.” Bobby was going to have a long talk with him about his self-sacrificing habits. For now, he kept his words calm and authoritative; for both their sakes. “None of that, you just hold still. Are you injured?” There was silence. Around him, the paramedics and firefighters of the 118 waited with bated breath. “Pretty bad.” There was little humor in his voice, though they could hear him trying. “My head. And uh, hahaha,” his laughter came as a gust of air. “I’ve been impaled?”

Safe by MadalineGrace Summary: Arguably, a fire station was one of the safest places to be. Where else could someone be surrounded by powerful rescue equipment, stores of medical supplies, and a dozen highly trained first responders? In the event of an emergency, there were few places Buck would rather be. Maybe his love for the job had clouded his thinking, lulled him into a false sense of security, he mused as he stared at the growing lake of blood beneath him. After today, it was safe to say that that illusion had been shattered…

We Lived Through the Wreck of Our Hearts by soft_satan for autumnchills Summary: When the door to the supply closet burst open, Eddie skidded to a stop only feet away from them, his blood turning ice cold in his veins. A tall, wild eyed man had an arm wrapped around Buck’s neck and a gun pressed to the side of his head

Here Comes the Boom by valix33 Summary: 5 times someone new learns about Buck’s fear of thunderstorms post lightning strike and 1 time everyone is prepared. Canon through 7x05. More character tags will be added with each chapter but trust the entire 118 family will feature here.

[the-crow-binary]

"Overbearing, he bends to no one's will"

So Dracula is a bratty bottom?

Deep inhale

Year 1094: Mathias Cronqvist loses his wife. In his rage and grief, he goes on to "betray God" by hurting everyone around him and achieve eternal life. He then asks, pretty much plead with Leon to understand and join him. Bratty Bottom behavior.

Somewhere before 1476: Mathias meets Lisa with who he falls in love, to the point it momentarily brings his humanity back. Bottom. Lisa dies and he gets angry, change his name into Dracula, and plot revenge against mankind this time, like he did against God so many years ago. Bratty.

Year 1476: His behavior leads Hector to betray him. He gets hurt and even more angry (even before being 100% sure it's a betrayal), sending Isaac after him, ordering him to bring him back if he is alive so he can basically torture him because he just can't bear being betrayed. Bratty but also Bottom because he seemed to care a big lot about Hector. Like. A big big lot. 🙂 Trevor and friends arrive and kick his ass, so he curse the land in return. Bratty.

Year 1479: He comes back to life and immediately goes "Hector! Why did you betray me ? ):< Humans suck and you should know it already. ):<". Then he gets defeated again and goes "I don't care my curse wille still destroy the stupid humans ):<". Then Hector goes "Nuh-huh! I can reverse it!", and he proceeds to die in a scream. Bratty Bottom.

Year 1576 to 1591: He comes back to life again wich is already very bratty of him. Fights Christopher a first time, makes him believe he died when not really, waits for the perfect moment to strike again, then years later, kidnaps his son. He then proceed to make father and son fight against each other. Bratty. And also Bottom because I bet he wanted to become Soleil's second dad.

Year 1691 to 1698: Comes back to life, sees Simon wich would turn any man into a bottom, and not only does he cast a curse on the land AGAIN upon being defeated, but he curses Simon, SPECIFICALLY, as well. What a brat. Then Simon accidentally brought him back again and killed him again. Bottom.

Year 1748: Bro did not even actually resurrect and he still managed to be an ass a menace through his wraith. Bratty. He then talks about drinking Juste's blood to make himself "whole again", literally saying he needs to fill himself with a Belmont('s life) to live, like bro. Bottom. 😏

Year 1792: "Blablabla it's not MY fault I came back to life, it's the HUMANS' " How can you be brattier and bottomer than by having a whole philosophical conversation with your sworn ennemy about how you have no control over your resurrections it's just that people are asses. 🙄 (Dracula even has Richter dolls all around his castle for Marie to collect like bro just marry the clan already)

Year 1797: He starts as bratty as usual but then Alucard reminds him of the bottomness Lisa woke up in him, and he calms down. Less Bratty as he dies with regrets, but still very Bottom of him.

19th century: He comes back to life more corrupted than ever. Proceeds to flirt with Shanoa, then underestimate and kinda mock her, only for her to defeat him with his own power. The balance between Brattiness and Bottomness has been corrupted as well in favor of the Brattiness, but his inner Bottom is never too far.

Year 1897: Comes back to life. Gets killed by Quich Morris, but mortally wounds him as well. Bratty Bottom.

Year 1917: You have to be the biggest of Brats if it takes a whole world war to resurrect you. And yet, a big Bottom if it doesn't even prevent you from immediately getting killed again lol.

Year 1944: Came back to life not at full power. Fought alongside his eternal hubby, even fusing with him (so fighting with Death inside him 😏), and still lost to two kids. Got killed by the sun, after musing that he will regain his full power one day and that they'll see who will have the last laugh. Bratty Bottom.

Year 1999: Julius topped that man so hard he never recovered from it again. The end of the Bratty Bottom millenia-long terror.

It took Death using books about how much of a Bratty Bottom his dead husband has been to bring him back again in GoS. So, of course, he was still a Brat who wanted to play with his ennemies by fighting them, and a Bottom who let Death penetrate fuse with him to use his powers like they did back in 1944.

So, to answer your question... yes. Dracula is a Bratty Bottom. Always has been. I'd say that his whole job is to be a pain in the ass of everyone, but he's too much of a Bottom for that. 🤭

[mj-102009]

Queen of Chaos (Gojo x oc Part Four)

Masterlist for previous parts

dw this hasn't been abandoned lol Enjoy---

Megara had no regrets.

Gojo was an egotistical ass that needed to be humbled; and his buddy Geto was getting close to the same point. Shoko just had pretty privilege.

She will say however, that the way he called her a curse and spat out the term– stung a little. Geto was morbidly curious about the feeling of her going through his arm; this was just flat concerning. But Yaga’s pride and faint grin made up for it all.

Much later in the safety of her quarters, Ren thumbed over the rim of her phone and stared at the empty wall.

‘-a rare opportunity for the Ren family; you should be grateful.”

‘Play your cards as I’ve taught you Megara.’

‘Don’t acknowledge that bitch.’

“You’re a fool for thinking those dimwits could keep me down for long.”

Megara refused to move her stare from the wall, Yasha’s figure stood in the corner of her vision. The curse’s voice was smooth and drew every word out with a melodic lit.

The curse was attractive for her kind; She was tall with a full chest and a slim waist, but could throw a man with a flick of her wrist.

Meg opened her phone and checked the time, ‘12:43.’

“It’s late,” The curse mused looking around the room. “Dingy…anyway– how long did the other Ren say we’d be here?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at the wall.

“Gods Megara,” Yasha growled, kicking the bed. “Answer me!”

She blinked sleepily and rolled onto her back.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“My mind,” Megara whispered, her eyes turning their natural green as she fell into the colorless depths of her own mind.

“I don’t want you to use your cursed techniques if you can handle it without,” Yaga said.

Gojo frowned and crossed his arms, a whine already on his lips. “But-”

The teacher barely turned his head to look at the white haired boy. “Shut it Satoru– you’re not going.”

“But whyyyyyy-”

Geto sighed and turned to the blind girl, Ren was listening to the whole interaction with an amused smirk. “I’ll take the lead on this, you just-”

“You’ll both be equals on this,” Yaga interrupts with a stern look.

Ren gave him an appreciative smile but Geto rubbed his face and nodded.

“What if it’s a special grade?” Geto asks. “Can I…?”

Yaga nodded. “One exception.”

The blind girl’s shoulder slumped and she turned on her heel. “C’mon I don’t want to miss dinner.”

Gojo huffed and mumbled something about “Old farts”. 

The pair frowned at the old post office. 

“I thought it was just a second grade,” Ren huffed softly, tilting her head to look at the bricks.

Geto nodded before flushing and stuttering. “Y-yes.”

She chuckled before walking into the building. She paused when she didn’t hear footsteps. “Coming?”

“Should you wait out here?” He asked, making her frown. “If it really is a special grade…?”

“I can hold my own,” She told him, a hint of offense in her tone. “Only thing I can’t do is drive back to the school if we miss our ride; now hurry.”

The pair walked inside slowly, Megara had her head cocked and pale eyes shifting around. Geto followed her movements with rapt attention, her mannerisms and body language, and the way she distributed her energy to flow. Her hand gently caressed the walls as they walked down the halls, following the trail of cursed energy.

“Do you have a plan?” He whispered.

She stifled a laugh. “You were the one that wanted to walk in without me, I thought you would have a plan.”

He would never admit to the shamed flush that crawled up his neck. “I thought it would only be me.”

“Well, tell me what you had.”

The pause spread on for a while. “I got nothing.”

She chuckled under her breath. “I figured,” With a sharp turn she waved her hand. “We’re two of the most powerful sorcerers in the world; we’ve got this.”

This time he was following her lead as she followed her senses to a hallway with a door at the very end. She tilted her head and frowned. “There’s a door right?”

He hummed in confirmation and she confidently strode towards it. “Hey– shouldn’t we come up with something?”

Megara turned to him. “I suppose…what do you think?”

“When you fought us,” Geto began analyzing her reactions. “You used our eyes.”

Her ears turned red. “...yeah.”

“If you can use my eyes, to get to it and freeze it so I can use my technique,” He was extending the olive branch– slowly albeit but still.

Megara nodded. “You're okay with me…?” She trailed off slowly vaguely gesturing to her eyes.

With a steady breath in, he answered: “Yes.”

“Alright,” She agreed, shutting her eyes and exhaling. “His eyes.”

This time when he was paying attention he felt a calming buzz just behind his eyes, like a series of rapid taps. She opened her eyes and his own irises met him.

“Ready?” She asked, standing up and offering him a hand.

He blinked once then took it.

The door opened with a creak that Megara didn't feel comforted by.

“Hey!” She called into the open room, walking in with full awareness from Geto’s bird eye view from the top floor. “I’m here!” She cupped her hands together and shouted. “I know you can feel me, come out ugly!”

A hiss came from the farthest corner of the room, she faced in with searing intensity. 

“I see you,” She said lowly, widening her stance to be steadier. “Come on out.”

Its head slowly came out from its veil of shadows, rows upon rows of teeth snapped at her as she provoked it. Gray tentacles made themselves known to her as she shifted her balance.

Geto watched in fascination as she held herself with confidence.

“Gonna fight?” She growled curling her hands into fists. “I know you want to,” Her eyes narrowed. “You feel my energy,” She pulsed waves of cursed energy into its awareness. “Come at me.”

As one long limb shot at her side she shifted left and pivoted to face the side of it; in one swift and powerful swipe charged with energy the tentacle was sent sprawling.

She flexed her hand and frowned. “It’s tentacles,” the curse froze and she studied it. “You can come down now.”

Geto leaped down and approached her. “What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s something in it,” Her eyes were pale again with the shift in control. “It is a second grade but…there’s some sort of cursed object.”

He approached it. “I feel it but I can’t see it.”

She kicked the limp tentacle and swept her foot to find it. “Here,” She searched over it and pressed her hand on a thin vein looking lump. “Do you have a knife? Or-”

“I got it,” He brushed her hand aside and jabbed into it.

“Fuck,” Megara whispered feeling her side.

Geto had his hand in the curse already, but looked over his shoulder in concern. “What?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

Her hand came away dry but the feeling of a knife going through her stomach was briefly sickening.

“Found something,” He told her, grunting at the unappealing feeling of the curse’s bodily fluids.

She pulled off her hoodie and held it out to him leaving her in a white long sleeve and shorts. “Put it in here.”

It was a finger. Long and dark, with two inches worth in nail black as pitch.

Geto cringed and the curse bubbled into nothing with its power gone. “God this thing has to be decades old.”

Megara wrinkled her nose as well. “It feels like centuries at the least.”

“C’mon we’ll bring it back to Yaga,” He said, wrapping it up.

With a sigh, her shoulders slumped the slightest inch. “Don’t want to keep Ijichi waiting.”

After a moment he finds the words to ask: “Enjoying the school?”

She chuckles. “It’s a blast,” Sarcasm was apparent in her tone.

Geto rubbed the back of his neck. “I do owe you an apology.”

“For what?” Her tone was genuinely confused.

“For judging you based on your…” He trails off.

“Curse?” She finishes with a shrug. “Don’t worry I’m used to it.”

He winces internally. “Then let me apologize for Satoru.”

She laughed, a high peel of laughter like bells in the wind. “That’s something he needs to do himself,” She smiled at him. “Thank you though.”

And while she couldn’t see it– he found himself smiling back.

The silence as Yaga studied the finger stretched along the room. Megara and Geto stood stalk straight as he twisted it slowly.

“Well done you two,” He tucked it away and gave them a tight smile. “You’re dismissed.”

Geto walked to the door and turned his head to Megara. “Coming?”

“Just a moment,” She said with a kind smile. “I’ll be out in a minute or two.”

He left the room and closed the door. 

“Ren,” Yaga said politely. “How can I help you?”

She nodded to the artifact. “What is that thing?” Her tone was riddled with disdain.

He should have known nothing gets by her. “It’s one of the 20 fingers of Ryomen Sukuna.”

Her eyes fluttered. “You sent us to get that thing?”

“I knew you would have been fine,” He argues.

“Me? Yes. But not that boy,” She told him, breaking her rigid posture. “The bloody god of curses– are you mad?!”

He shushed her quickly. “He’s not helpless.”

She sighed and clenched her fists. “I didn’t say that.”

“I knew you’d protect him, Ren,” He told her calmly. “I had no doubt in your abilities.”

She shook her head and turned to leave. “I will not be your beck and call, Yaga,” Yasha made herself known in the corners of her mind, feeding off her frustration. “I am here to learn and train– not collect your missing fingers.”

And she missed dinner…great.

Yasha pulled herself into Megara’s vision with a stretch. “Gods it’s so fuckin’ hot out here.”

She frowned and didn’t regard the curse, flipping open her phone and used voice typing to make sure a local ramen shop was still good for pick up.

“You can’t ignore me forever out here,” Yasha sang, poking her cheek. “I already apologized.”

She batted away her hand and started to find her way to the gates. 

“This is stupid,” Yasha mused. “Do you need help?”

“Leave me alone,” She said miserably.

“Ren!”

She turned over her shoulder and said. “Geto?”

A quick tap of feet and a hand was on her shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“Oh wow he’s cute,” Yasha said, studying him closely.

“Dinner,” Megara answered. “We missed it.”

He shuffled. “You seem like you need help.”

She bristled as Yasha started to laugh. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He sighed as she shrugged off his hand. “I know you're capable but Tokyo isn’t as easy to get around as a curse.”

“Tell him I’ll help you if you’re that desperate not to go,” Yasha offered walking circles around them.

Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “Yeah, some help would be great.”

Megara found the difference between Gojo and Geto to be simple. The first time Gojo had spoken (if you could even call it that) with her– he hadn’t even tried to look through her cursed energy levels; thinking with his ego and not his head. Whereas Geto tried to understand her and how she worked with her curse, the ways that affected her. He got to know her.

Perhaps that would be her downfall.

Tell me if you enjoyed! I'll keep going with this I swear-

Taglist:

@witchbybirth 

@enchantingkitty

@aish777

[anthromimicry]

AHH, okay, okay... it has recently come to my attention that i have not been posting enough headcanons on here compared to my other acc's so i'm about to fix that right quick. i have briefly talked about this in one of my previous posts, but misao has allowed one or two patients throughout the years to hold her VERY beloved tarantula which she has (affectionately) named rosie and those were ones who she actually had developed a personal liking for, which is surprisingly ( or perhaps not so surprisingly, i guess it just depends on how you look at it LOL ) rare for her to do. so i believe it's safe to say that if she has offered you a chance to touch her... that you have somehow managed to worm your way into her good graces haha. also, another good indicator that misao GENUINELY likes a patient is that she will make physical attempts to comfort your muse, but of course as a mental health professional, misao acknowledges the importance of consent and she will ask them if she can hug them / put a hand on their shoulder as a comforting non-sexual gesture before doing so. though whenever it comes to psychotherapy — you are generally supposed to be a neutral presence towards your clients or patients, so misao still doesn't consider them to be friends if/when she does things like this as that would be compromising the integrity of the patient and therapist relationship.

and speaking of the patient + therapist relationship, i will circle back to how this relates to how this could be a indicator that misao likes your muse on a personal level if they are a patient of hers, BUT as a psychiatrist; it is not only misao's responsibility to listen attentively to the person in her office but also to diagnose and issue prescriptions to patients, and whenever she does this, i do like to think that misao does not abuse her power in the way that she will assign them with the wrong drugs or anything like that (except in the event that she is about to eat them or had somehow found out her secret which... is messed up for a multitude of reasons, of course). but i do have to say that she is ever-so-slightly less likely to advocate for a patient who has shown themselves to be hostile towards her or she feels has insulted her in some way, as misao is VERY much capable of being vindictive but in ways that are not so obvious if that makes any sense. like for example, if your muse comes in in visibly uncomfortable restraints, she will not volunteer to have any guards take them off for them and will simply let them sit there like that because, well, she is lowkey evil. ( okay, no, that is actually HIGHKEY evil of her ngl but misao doesn't care JSJSJ ) so, if she likes you... though i know this is rather two-faced of her and totally unethical of her as a physician to set patients of hers to different standards, she will advocate more for those who she likes personally.

this is part of how she is flawed as a psychiatrist, for lack of better words, as although misao likes to think she doesn't get her personal biases get in the middle of treating her patients... it DOES happen and she seems to subtly practice favoritism. but here is one thing that you all may be unexpected to hear: misao honestly thinks that the nonconsensual use of ECT, or electroconvulsive therapy that arkham has been known to do that is also very morally wrong to do, is barbaric and will not pretty much under any circumstances subject her patients to it unless they actually consent to it. because it has been shown to help those with treatment resistant depression or bipolar disorder in some cases, though it also has been shown to have some risks associated with it such as temporary memory loss and difficulty learning. people have also suffered from more serious side effects from it as well including longer lasting gaps in memory, however, so the risks are not exactly moderate all the time.

so unlike some of her colleagues at arkham, misao will not force anyone into it and insists on only doing it if/when she has written consent from them. thus, you could say that although misao is certainly not perfect and her general morality is VERY skewed, even she has some 'standards' as to lines that she will not cross. though of course, every doctor in arkham should be prescribing to ECT only being used in consensual situations, though it is sadly known for being a very corrupt institution for a reason. misao herself has not contributed to the corruption in this way, however, as i believe there may be personal reasons behind why she does not want to go beyond it and i will discuss those more later. but for now... i hope you all liked this little drabble of mine.

[hockeyisforthegays]

What made you want to write/come up with the idea for heroine?

OOHH thank you for asking i will do my best to answer. some of the details are probably lost to "i didn't store this in my long term memory" tho alsdjjdlska.

so. ok. i was an anime-only at the time and started thinking about it in some form mid-season 2 airing, because like, well. i've never written a fix it fic before, i dont think, but i knew shibuya was gonna wreck shop and it did. but i think hidden inventory arc was a pretty big piece of the conceptual puzzle here too because--

well honestly what a lot of it came down to was: i love yuuji. i love gojo. i love the yuuji-gojo dynamic and i'm always wanting to explore it, have since s1.

and then when i saw?? hidden inventory gojo?? that sure was SOMETHING like omg my man was a bitch. the dichotomy between teen and adult gojo is my muse. so the idea of how yuuji would experience teen gojo....

i remember as a kid in other fandoms reading a couple of fic that had that basic premise of "character time travels and has to fit in with the previous generation as youths" and obviously those left a pretty big impression on me. cause i think abt them all the time. wherever those fics are now they're definitely creditable for heroine existing. but tbh i started writing the first scenes just to see what would happen and then--

then i basically went. oh if yuuji met geto suguru would it be fucked up or what. and then i started that scene and they went no actually, have you considered we have things to bond over? specifically eating gross shit? and then they ran away with the story together and a lot of things kind of followed from that. so another source of inspiration really is just the suguyuu dynamic which i had literally never thought about until i put them in a jar together and shook it. can you say your fic is inspired by itself? cause it a little is.

speaking of how i started writing mid-s2 actually so obviously there wasn't the immediate intention to have "yuuji ate mahitorb" be the source of his abilities. i was at first operating off the theories that sprung from the s1 yuuji-mahito + yuuji-todo + s2 yuuji-choso fights that yuuji inherently had some kind of soul-based ability that affected memories. before of course we learned that choso is just that brocon and todo is indeed just a maladaptive daydreamer for real. (if you read carefully you can probably identify the point where i started catching up with the manga LOL but the first handful of chapters were powered by speculation and spoilers alone)

... tbh some of our plot points, like yuuji not having some memories, are literally a case of "well. i havent figured that out yet, so let's say he doesn't know." asldjalskjdal i have since worked out the mechanics of the fic and its lore and i think it's stronger for having them be mysterious to yuuji but it IS funny to think about how i was just like AND I'LL FIGURE IT OUT LATER. writing heroine is just trust falling into my own arms most of the time

[heta-micronomics]

May I ask about your KugSea thoughts? I'm starting to get interested in the pairing and want to talk about them..

The post about Peter running away from Kug (we should find a human name for him...) after Kug tried to kiss him was the blueprint for me. Now, I'm imagining Kug and Peter trying to figure out romantic gestures.. except it's more silly than it is "cute" because they're both merely creatures.

I usually use the name Fritz for Kugelmugel. It's my special brand of sad irony. He looks like dollar store Prussia and shares the name of one of Prussia's most fondly-remembered humans. Funny to me, lol.

In all honesty, I'm not sure what first made me first start shipping them. They kinda just popped up one day. In the past I've shipped MolSea, IceSea, SeaChelles, HongSea, AeriSea, toxic yaoi AmeSea in that one 2P AU... but ngl, none of them have hit me like these two.

For one, they're both founded on pretty similar principles: the preservation of art. Kugelmugel is literally art, and Sealand was founded by radio pirates fighting British censorship. I imagine they both like pushing boundaries and seeing just how far they can take things.

How far is too far? Who will stop them? Who can stop them?

For reference, I write Peter as being instinctively obedient. He was born into the military. He was bred to serve and taught to obey. But "Sealand" was a radical change, and the premise went against everything he had learned prior. Now, he tries to take up a leadership role. He's one of the better-known micros and wants to create something substantial, and for the most part, he loves it. He loves being a little bastard. But that gets exhausting. It's against his basal nature.

Kugel, on the other hand? His energy stems from disobeying. Experimentation and radical ideas fuel his creative process, and that's what keeps him going. He makes his own rules and enforces them, just like Austria. Peter let's him take the lead sometimes, and it's a relief.

For Fritz, he admires Peter so, so much. I imagine that given Austria's more classical art tastes, he'd have a lot of exposure to religious imagery and tends to subconsciously superimpose that onto a lot of things (autism). Peter is older than him, more powerful, and more well known. They're both prone to obsession, and Fritz's adoration borders on worship. Peter's his muse, his living art piece. He's an angel/Madonna/Christ figure/etc to Fritz. There's almost an air of idolatry/objectification, though it's accidental.

Peter matches him obsession-wise. He latches onto anyone who gives him affection or attention, and Fritz sure does that. Unfortunately, he takes after England in that he gets protective and possessive of him. I compare him to a dog a lot because it's true. Peter will resource guard Fritz out of fear of him leaving or being taken away.

How healthy they are for each other is debatable. But they DO make some crazy shit lmao.

Fritz gives art expertise while Peter handles engineering and building. They're rambunctious and unpredictable. I like to think they try to recreate all those weird "internet iceburg" vids like Soup. Avi. No real reason except they can and they want to freak some people out.

Also, I'm pretty sure Austria would not like Peter lmao.

[mad-hunts]

✍ Favorite thing about writing the muse? + 💢 Something about the muse that annoys you?

- divingdownthehole

AHH, hellooo, emi! thank you very much for the ask ((: whenever it comes to my favorite thing about writing barton, i actually had two of the same question, so i will link my answer to that first question here for your convenience: my favorite thing about writing the muse!!

now, as for something about the muse that annoys me, do i have to pick just one thing because i've got several grievances with him? / hj JSJSJ LOL i'm halfway joking about that, as there are actually a few things that irk me about barton's character, but i'd say the main one that annoys me is that he is SO freaking stubborn. like this man is the type of person to struggle with doing something and refuse help from someone because he 'can do it' even when its quite obvious that he can't do it 💀 barton also gives some credence to the idea that doctors are bad patients in this aspect as well.

for example, here's just a tidbit of information that i did some research on in relation to pancreatitis since barton has had it pretty bad once: there is this bruising that doctors call 'cullen's sign' that has a chance of spreading around the navel when your pancreas is inflammed. though, to be fair, most resources i checked out said that it appears rather rarely. however, barton DEFINITELY had this symptom and you know what he did? he essentially ignored it, because he was hoping it would just go away. like barton knew that something was probably wrong BUT he didn't want to acknowledge that at first and so this mayyy or may not be part of the reason why he got so sick from it.

to expand upon this, i know i have talked about how barton isn't a good father a lot already, BUT he has killed one of matilda's BF's before because he was trying to 'protect her' and like. i get that the guy might've not had matilda's best interests at heart, though was KILLING him really necessary and also refusing to admit that this was a wrong thing for him to do??? like OMG. i'm telling y'all, if this guy was real and he didn't kill me, i would be punching him in the damn kisser right now just by talking about this 🙂‍↕️ LMAO no, but i am so serious about that. like he needs to stop and i know i have the power to make him stop, of course, but also jsjsj

barton's stubbornness is also an important part of his character, as without it, i feel like he wouldn't be the same person. but yeah! i hope you liked my response to this, my friend, and that you're having a good saturday <33

[charlieswanismydad]

about me !!!

links

drawn by the amazing @ghosttoastx !!! if you read this ily you’re never getting rid of me now

Hi!!! I’m Alice.

I do stuff. It’s pretty cool.

Enfp, hufflepuff, Capricorn Sun, Libra moon, Pisces rising, he/she, and more!! I’m also a non-partnering aromantic and gray asexual!

I stalk blogs I like, don’t be alarmed if I like a bunch of posts at once!! In fact, be happy!! I love you!!!!!

If you want to talk to me please do!!! I want more friends. Just keep in mind I am a 15 year old minor!

You have been warned!

DNI:

racists, homophobes, sexists, etc. general dni criteria ig

people who just hate for no reason!! (anti-furry, just hating on certain fandoms, etc. ticks me off!)

proshippers

frans/fontcest

exclusionists

radqueers

radfems

pro paras. go to therapy

nsfw (also sorta related to above, pro cnc/ageplay. go to therapy)

WIPS:

Wilting Flowers - My actual baby. My pride and joy. It’s imperfect but that’s okay.

The actual grim reaper falls in love with a mortal. I can’t do it justice, you’re just gonna have to trust me.

don’t break my heart - Shameless Sans fanfic. All of the self indulgence ever, but it brings me joy :) semi discontinued, might come back!

I love it man. It makes me so happy. Basically yn is an awkward dumbass and so is Sans and they fall in love and stuff :)

Fandoms:

My main fandoms are Twilight and Undertale (obv), but I’m in a bunch more!! :D

The Arc of a Scythe by Neil Shusterman

Harry Potter by Daniel Radcliffe (JK…)

Steven Universe by Rebecca Sugar

Doki Doki Literature Club by Dan Salvato

Omori by Omocat

Arcane by Riot Games

The Walten Files by Martin Walls

The Amazing Digital Circus by Glitch Studios

The Phantom of the Opera by Andrew Lloyd Webber (the book’s by Gaston Leroux but i haven’t read it lol)

Deltarune by Toby Fox (is that an anagram???)

Meet the Robinsons by Disney

And more that aren’t off the top of my head!! Just ask bros :)

I’m kinda obsessed with UTMV, soooo….

Fav AU - Insomnia (link to chapter 1)

Fav Sans - Dust by Ask-Dusttale and Geno by LoverofPiggies

Music:

Ranked by popularity, with my fave songs from each! Just like the fandoms, it's all over the place.

Taylor Swift - Haunted

Hozier - In The Woods Somewhere

Muse - Soldier's Poen

Mitski - Last Words of a Shooting Star

Will Wood - Suburbia Overture/Vampire Culture/Whatever the hell the name is idek anymore

Dazey and the Scouts - Maggot

The Oozes - I Still Adore You

Lemon Demon - Action Movie Hero Boy

Tally Hall/Miracle Musical - Misery Fell

Teddy Hyde - Terry’s Taxidermy

Destroy Boys - Crybaby

The Crane Wives - Little Soldiers

Steam Powered Giraffe - Malfunction

Writing Requests:

HEY SO HERES A FUN FACT: I WANT YOU TO ASK ME TO WRITE THINGS FOR YOU!! LIKE I LOVE THAT!!! I WILL WRITE YOU LITTLE ONESHOTS IF ITS A FANDOM IM IN!!! OR I CAN WRITE ABOUT MY CHARACTERS IF YOU’RE INTO THAT!!! JUST PLEASR PLEASE PLEASE ASK ME AAAAAAA

Things You Might Want to Be Aware Of:

i tend to isolate myself when i’m having a Big Sad™️ moment. please do not be mad if i act cold!!!

i’m a very empathic person and i get really upset around negativity. please do not send me or mention me in anything political or controversial.

i get in my head about disturbing/sexual things. once again, don’t show me this stuff. don’t ask me to write about it, either!!

i am uncomfortable around religious discussions. i get enough of them irl!!! please keep them away from me :')

i’ve got adhd and possible ocd so yeah and also my auditory processing sucksssss so if we ever interact on call or *gasp* irl then i’ll say “what?” every five seconds

books. @bunny-on-a-bookshelf for books.

i’m just a silly little girl who is also a boy. we have fun here

Tags:

(new so they haven’t been used much)

#mootie patooties - mutuals

#irl alice - real life shtuff

#reblogs - self explanatory

#alice writes sometimes - my writing!!!!

#skeleposting - undertale/utmv

#is that an anagram??? - deltarune

#sparkly - twilight

#im aspec BUT - simping, fangirling, i do a lot of it

#liveblogging homestuck - reading homestuck and making vague comments about it.

#ALL HAIL - welcome to nightvale stuff!!!

#rock n robinson - meet the robinsons

#musical automatons - steam powered giraffe!!!! the best band ever btwwwew

Moots:

I literally love you guys 😭😭

@donotreleasemeintothewild

@livforlive

@last-herondale

@hiro-doodlez

@sneakyfox55

@junessillywachingcorner

@popiollie

@toka-san

@wishtale-blogs

@italic-does-random-shit

@ghostboisonly

@just-let-me-call-myself-arson

@pizzatowne

@ghosttoastx

@thenocturnenarrator

@lelitachay

@paraska00

@tundra116

@blurboppz

@flesh-archivist

@matzahstein

@paranoid-radio

@martinibass

@drrobotnic

@sandwich2451

@blaster-fagot

[ruinouss]

NAME: Mads

PRONOUNS: She/her

MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?　Faye lol. Idk why I ever try RPing others. I'll be good for a while but I always come back to this idiot

◈　RP PET PEEVES?　I have a few but of course, I don't remember the majority now that I'm asked about it. But the main one is when I see someone complaining about not getting any interactions or anything and you and others have been liking starter/plot calls or sending memes over and over and nothing ever comes from it. In my own personal experience, the person crying about not getting interactions is only looking for it with a certain follower(s) but won't try and initiate the interaction. It's understandable if you legit are struggling for interactions and you get crickets but when it's clear people are trying to interact...man that grinds my gears. It's extremely inconsiderate and I usually bounce when I see that. Another thing is one-sided plotting/RPing. I usually always try and come up with a few ideas, even if they're basic or the usual trope because sometimes they turn into something exciting but this also depends on both people being open to trying to keep it moving. It's no fun when one person isn't giving anything to work with. Though, sometimes one person will have a good idea and can lead but again it needs some help from the other person. I have others I'm sure, but these are the two main ones. I like to think I'm pretty chill.

EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS　Close to 2 decades probably. I've been RPing since gaiaonline and AOL/Skype

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT　 All of it, I think there's a time and place for each. I do tend to prefer angst because I love character development and pushing characters to their breaking points and seeing them go beyond their limits or reacting in high-stress situations. I love it when they discover new things about themselves. Fluff is fun for shorter threads when you need something light hearted in between the angst lol. And then smut...well I'm so out of practice I refuse to even have it on my main blog lol. I don't need to embarrass myself. I think it's fine and fun but I do get tired of it if that's all there is. Again, I'm here for the character development.

PLOTS OR MEMES　 Either. I don't have a preference but I try and see what my partners prefer. Sometimes things work better when you plot things out so you have an idea to follow but sometimes, especially with new interactions its easier to just have a random meme. I also feel like sometimes it may take a few tries before you find the right thing that clicks for a good thread or character interaction.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES　 Depends on the day. Sometimes it's nice to have a shorter reply but I do admit sometimes they're hard for me to do because I want to make sure there's enough going on to keep a thread going. But sometimes the brain just doesn't want to work so longer threads, even if I'm super excited for it just don't happen.

TIME TO WRITE　Whenever I get the chance lol. Sometimes its easier in the morning because I haven't used all my brain power but its so rare I can even do so I take what I can get.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)　As far as Faye? Uhh...only a little bit lol. Mainly just her love of the ocean and space and the fact we're both red heads. But she's way more wild/reckless than I am and gives less fucks about what others think or say about her. She also is always looking for trouble to get into while I prefer to fly under the radar. My other muse I currently play on a different blog is also a level headed doctor so I guess with him we're both chill and love pineapple lmao. Even characters in the past I've only shared one or two things. I dunno, I deal with myself on the daily and would rather explore something different than myself. Obviously, I need some things to align so I can understand the character but eh.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘　 the fantastic @ferinehuntress (thank you ;; )

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆　@vendettavalor @trashcollected @dimensionalspades @imprvdente @manufactoredxbyxdesign @musezieren @hellshire & anyone else