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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 9 months

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You're waiting for a train...(5)

A Lesson in Planning

Robert Fischer x reader

description - the logistics of the dream begin to come together and get finalised by the group. Y/n's heart yearns for Robert more but she feels absent from those around her.

warnings - non-con touching (because she is not awake! UNCONSCIOUS PEOPLE DON'T WANT TEA!), mentions of surgery, mentions of murder.

word count - 2.2k

a/n - Boy you guys are gonna hate Arthur here! this is an important filler chapter for the plot but the real juicy stuff is still to come!

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“So now in the first layer of the dream, I can impersonate Browning and suggest concepts to Fischer’s conscious mind. When we get a layer deeper his own projection of Browning should-should feed that back to him.” Eames orated to our group as we sat concepting the plan for the mission.

“So he gives himself the idea?” Arthur questioned.

“Precisely.” Eames continued. “That’s the only way it’ll stick. It has to seem self-generated.”

“Eames.” Arthur leant back in his chair and looked to me and I nodded in agreement. “I am impressed.”

Eames chuckled. “Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated, Arthur, thank you.” I laughed at Eames’ quip, but felt I should cover my face to not embarrass Arthur further.

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I sat in the workspace with Ariadne as she worked on her totem.

She’d decided upon a chess piece with a partly hollowed out centre that would always fall a specific way. We’d actually had the idea together when we’d been walking in the park and had come across a group of old men who’d formed a chess club. When Ariadne had picked up the queen, it had felt right in her hand.

I glanced to my watch and commented on the lateness of the time but hadn’t noticed Ariadne had actually left our desk. I must have zoned out. That had been happening a lot recently. My mind went to Robert. It wasn’t always thinking back on our interaction, most of the time it was just imagining him beside me. Living in the moment with fantasies of him living it with me.

I perked up when Dad and Ariadne walked back towards me, Ariadne gestured for me to show my Dad the mazes but I hesitated.

“Each level relates to the part of the subjects subconscious that we are trying to access.” Dad walked past our designs, assessing the skill and intricacy. Ariadne and I loomed over her paper built mazes. “So, I’m making the bottom level a hospital so Fischer will bring his father, -- um you know, actually, I have a question about this layout.” Dad immediately retreated as if the sight burned his eyes.

“No, no, no. Don’t – Don’t show me specifics. Only the dreamer should know the layout.” I winced at Dad’s harsh tone.

“Dad, she just wanted some help.” I looked up at him.

“Just – “ He pointed at me in a fierce tone but doubted his words. His tone smoothed out. “Just no specifics.”

“Why is that important?” She questioned, amid our staring contest.

“In case one of us brings our projections in. We don’t want them knowing the details of the maze.” Dad feebly explained.

“You mean in case you bring Mom in?” I spat at him. The room went quiet, the tension was thick. “You can’t keep her out, can you? Right. If you know the maze then she knows it. That’s why you can’t build anymore.” I stalked towards him amidst my lecture.

“Cobb is this getting worse?” I appreciated Ariadne’s concern. She had been whisked in to this operation only to find out the leader’s brain was more fucked up than most. Who wants to share dreams with that. “Because the others need to know if it is?”

“Who said it’s getting worse!” He abruptly ended so we knew the conversation was done. There was a lull. “I need to get her home.” He pointed at me. “That’s all I care about right now. Is her.” He stood up and embraced me. My guilt weighed me down. He’d only ever thought of me, and my thoughts were filled with someone else. How selfish could I be.

“Why can’t you go home?” Ariadne fiercely inquired.

“Because they think I killed her.” Cobb said into my hair whilst we stayed hugging. I squeezed tighter at that answer. Ariadne stayed quiet as Cobb left my arms to walk away. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not asking whether I did.” He smiled appreciatively.

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“I will split up my father’s empire.” The word emblazoned on our whiteboard. “Now, this is obviously an idea that Robert himself would choose to reject which is why we need to plant it deep in his subconscious. The subconscious is motivated by emotion, right? Not reason. We need to find a way to translate this into an emotional concept.” Dad addressed us.

“How do you translate a business strategy into an emotion?” Arthur questioned.

“That’s what were here to figure out. Now, Robert’s relationship with his father is stressed to say the least.”

“Well, can we run with that?” Eames perked up. “We could suggest breaking up his father’s company as a ‘screw you’ to the old man.”

“No.” I commented. “Positive emotion trumps negative emotion every time. We yearn for reconciliation, catharsis. His bond with his dad is broken beyond repair. Maybe if we’re gonna be in there anyway, we could do him a little good.” When I trailed off softly, I felt all eyes on me, confused. I especially felt the hot gaze of my father.

“We need Robert Fischer to have a positive emotional reaction to all this.” Dad agreed whilst eyeing me suspiciously.

“All right, let’s try this.” Eames jumped to my rescue. “My father accepts that I want to create for myself, not follow in his footsteps.”

“That might work.”

“Might?” Arthur argued. “We’re gonna need to do a little better than might.” Eames turned towards him with a cheeky smile.

“Oh, thank you for your contribution, Arthur.” He said sarcastically.

“Forgive me for wanting a little specificity, Eames.”

“Specificity?”

“Inception’s not about being specific. When we get inside his mind, we’re gonna have to work with what we find.”

Ariadne had already prepped each of the dreamers with the layout of the maze. I was truly impressed, and I spent every minute telling her that. It was so great to have a girl on the team. I often felt I was drowning in testosterone.

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We had entered Yusuf’s dream which would act as the first layer. Ariadne had created a metropolitan city with towering skyscrapers. It was perfect. Complex and confusing if you were not familiar yet still had a sense of believability.

“On the top level,” Eames narrated to us all, as we stood in the direct centre of the road. “We open up his relationship with his father, and say ‘I will not follow in my father’s footsteps.”

I walked around in awe of the world around me. I’d been in many dreams and had created a few for myself, but nothing like this. I bumped Ariadne’s shoulder and whispered.

“This is seriously amazing.”

“you’ve told me that like 5 times, y/n.”

“Oh sorry—”

“No, it’s nice.” She threw her arm around me so we ended in a half way hug. I suddenly remembered the boys were talking.

“Then the next level down, we feed him ‘I will create something for myself’. Then by the time we bring out the big guns – “

“My father doesn’t want me to be him.” I finished. After speaking those fateful words I chanced a glance at my own father’s eyes. But I looked away in shame, missing his own longing gaze.

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“Three layers down the dreams are gonna collapse.” Arthur admitted. “Even with the slightest disturbance.”

“Sedation.” Yusuf proudly stated. “For sleep stable enough to create three layers of dreaming, we’ll have to combine it with an extremely powerful sedative. The compound we’ll be using to share the dream creates a very clear connection between dreamers whilst actually accelerating brain function.”

“In other words, it gives us more time on each level.” Dad explained for the ones who struggled to understand Yusuf’s chemistry.

“Brain function in the dream will be about 20 times normal. When you enter a dream within that dream, the effect is compounded, it’s 3 dreams – that’s 10 hours times –”

“I’m sorry maths was never my strong subject.” I chuckled at Eames’ confusion. “How much time is that?”

I decided to fill him in.

“It’s a week, the first level down, 6 months the second level down –”

“Its 10 years, the third level.” Ariadne said in a gasp. I nodded sadly towards her. “Who would want to be stuck in a dream for 10 years?”

“Depends on the dream.” Ariadne and I looked unamused towards Yusuf’s attempt at humour.

“So, once we’ve made the plant how do we get out? I’m hoping you have something more elegant in mind than shooting me in the head.” Arthur commented whilst swinging on his chair.

“A kick.”

“What’s a kick?”

“This Ariadne,” Eames gently tapped Arthur’s chair so he panicked and fell forward. “Is a kick.” He smiled innocently towards Arthurs unimpressed face. I giggled watching their little bromance.

“It’s that feeling of falling you get that jolts you awake.”

“Will we even feel a kick with that level of sedation?” I questioned.

“I’ve customised the sedative to leave inner function unimpaired.” I gave a grateful nod. Yusuf was truly a gift to this mission. “Let me demonstrate.”

“Arthur.” “Arthur!” Eames and I said in sync.

Arthur reluctantly rises and sits on the chair Yusuf gestures to. Yusuf puts him into a dream.

“You see the sleeper still feels the falling.” Yusuf tips Arthur and he jolts awake just in time to watch his body hit the ground. Eames and I burst out laughing. I wink at Eames as we both get the same idea.

“But Yusuf.” I begin. “He just fell sideways. I think it needs to be demonstrated that it works falling at ALL angles.” Eames and I could barely hold in our laughter as my dad shook his head in disapproval. Arthur was put under 4 more times and shoved off the chair each time. God this was too good. After the final time, he threw his hands up when Yusuf went in for one more IV. He abruptly stood up and walked past me. He slowed down when he reached my shoulder.

“Don’t be so childish.” My smile broke.

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“He hasn’t got any surgery scheduled, there’s no dental, nothing.”

“Wasn’t he supposed to have a knee operation?”

“Nothing. Nothing that they’d put him under for anyway.”

We were coming up with the final stage. And the most important element. Time.

“We need a good 10 hours.” My dad offered up the situation to the room.

“Sydney to Los Angeles.” Saito had very much taken up the role of the silent money. Quiet, observing. Merely here to protect his investment. When dad had told me he wanted to go under with us I wasn’t shocked. Inception is hardly a mission which has a physical outcome a buyer can hold. The only way to get proof is to be there with us. I did worry about safety. He was just another parasite the projections could flock to; this put us all at risk. And I had a feeling this sedation meant a simple kill shot wouldn’t suffice.

“One of the longest flights in the world. He makes it every two weeks.”

“He must be flying private then?” Dad questioned.

“Not if there were unexpected maintenance with his plane.” I smirked at this.

“It would have to be a 747.” Arthur jumped in.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

“Because on a 747, the pilot is up top,” I didn’t miss how Arthur directed the answer towards my dad. “and the first class cabin is on the nose, so no one would walkthrough but you’d have to buy out the entire cabin and the first class flight attendant.”

“I bought the airline.” We all flocked our gaze to Saito. “It seemed neater.” Ah of course! Why didn’t we think of that?

“Well then.” We had our stage. “Ariadne?” Dad stopped us as we went to leave. “Terrific work by the way.” I smiled her way but she missed it, taken up in a conversation with Arthur.

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My fingers fidgeted on the lock of the case. Itching to try again. Nothing around me was satisfying, I needed some release. The lock flicked up and I hurriedly unpacked the IV. I inserted it and let it do it’s magic. My eyes drooped, my heart slowed yet my excitement bubbled up. My head flopped onto the rough fabric of the deck chair. As my mind floated me away, a presence loomed in my peripheral.

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*Arthur’s pov*

I’d stayed behind late, hoping to have a word with y/n. She hadn’t seemed herself recently and I worried for the state of her mind when we begin this task.

I made my way to the door, believing I’d missed her. I noticed one of the deck chairs hadn’t been put away so I went to tidy up. I saw five painted nails loosen their grip on the edge of the chair and collapse to the side. There was an IV exiting the vein, I tracked it back towards the silver case.

I ambled my way towards her sleeping frame. So peaceful, yet so much life danced behind her closed eyes. I found myself stroking her soft cheeks. She was so perfect. My thumb caressed the contours of her face and it began to droop lower, until it met the curve of her lips. What was I doing?

I jumped back as if her skin had burnt me. Suddenly I was possessed by a new found drive. I ripped one of the other IV’s out of the case and dragged a chair up to the table. I inserted the tube and let the sedative consume my body.

My mind crumbled down and was rebuilt into her subconscious.

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Oh boyyyyy Arthur has gone into her subconscious! What's he gonna find? What's she hiding??

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away

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sugar-omi · 6 months

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DAY TWENTY-ONE — EGGS

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, gn/intersex + top reader, dragon!reader x human!cove, arranged marriage, stomach bulging, knotting, mpreg i suppose, cove w nip n belly piercings, praise

synopsis : you've put off having children to accommodate your human husband, and for him to get comfortable with you. but cove insists he’s ready, and you wouldn’t dare deny your darling husband something he wants

cove is anxious.

and the servants helping him bathe and dress aren't helping as they go on and on about how beautiful your children will be, that "with their majesty's dragon blood, your children will be beautiful and strong!"

even though you promised to be gentle, it didn't ease his fear now that it was happening.

and now he's all alone, sitting in the middle of this grand bed, even though the door is also grand since this is your bedroom- fit for royalty afterall-, he often wonders how it even got in the room from its size.

he tries to focus on the logistics of how the bed was squeezed into the door, and focuses on the grandeur of your palace.

even after nearly a year here, he can never get used to the high ceilings and gold, bold colors and tall open windows. the land is pretty too, open space for dragons to land and flourishing flowers and trees and clear waters.

then he started thinking about how the people dress…

open backs to accommodate your wings, in truth the clothes are quite skimpy to begin with to make room for your tail as well but also since dragons run hot, you need a breeze.

rings and chains to decorate your horns, eye catching makeup and much gold and silver and gems to go around.

it's much different from how he's used to dressing. even though he's used to and comfortable with a lack of clothing, the glamor always make him feel out of place.

even now, necklaces cool his hot skin and he's aware of the rings on his sweaty hands.

he swallows, sighing shakily. he twists his wedding band, shaky fingers tracing the brilliant gems and every curve and bend of the ring.

the door groans, and cove nearly snaps his neck to meet your gaze.

you blink lazily, your nails scraping against the wood as your hand drags along the door. your jewelry clicks, cove's eyes lingering on the shiny pair of anklets.

"ogle as long as you'd like, little dove." you purr, the rumble of your booming voice sends shivers up cove's spin.

he blink, meeting your sharp eyes. "sorry.."

you shake your head, locking the door behind you without looking. the click sticks to cove's mind, anticipation rising in his chest.

"the ladies worked hard to dress me up, please appreciate their efforts." you take long strides across the room, kneeling in the bed and reaching out to softly caress your husband's cheek.

you eyes droop, pointed pupils softening. "i know i do…" you purr, your fingers trailing between his flushed cheeks to his painted, glossy lips.

"although, i think they should have taken your natural fluster into account, the blush is poor in comparison."

cove wraps his hand around your wrist, peeking at you through his lashes.

"i'm.. glad you think so." he mutters, nuzzling into your hand.

your eyes trail down his body, your fingers following your gaze. starting with his hair, curling his hair around the digit, trailing down to his neck and lingering on the choker, pupils dilating with the way it stretches around his throat.

then your nail drags down the valley of his chest, parting his robe to see his pierced nipples, the gem of the jewelry your favorite color.

cove squirms, feeling like prey in the hands of a predator. in a way he was, but he tried not to think of that anymore.

"um.. i- they made something special for tonight…" cove takes your raised brow and retreating hand as a sign.

he undoes the ribbon, and everything seems to move in slow motion as the sleeves pool at his elbows and he shifts to show you his lovely outfit for tonight.

if the servants dressed him with the aim to be devoured, they've hit the mark.

if it isn't the lace underwear, leaving nothing to the imagination, it has to be the garter belt and thighs, showing the expanse of his long legs.

you growl, your canines pricking your bottom lip.

cove's eyes nearly fall out his head when you rip off your own garments, leaving on your underwear.

cove almost wishes you'd take them off so he can prepare himself mentally for what you're packing.

he still hasn't decided if he's thrilled or petrified by what you could get up to in the bedroom. he figures he shouldn't think with his dick, but that's a difficult challenge when it comes to you.

"y-y/n?" cove stutters, scooting back on the bed.

you crawl up the bed, your wings flaring.

cove was always painfully aware of the size difference. but having you hover over him like this.. it makes him squirm and he isn't ready to admit he likes how intimidating you are.

you take his hand, placing a gentle kiss on the back of it. "don't run from me… i promised i'd be gentle, didn't i?" you peer at him through your lashes, turn his arm to kiss his fingers and down his palm…

cove nods, his mouth dry. "yes.. you did."

he feels like you're sucking the breath from his lungs without even kissing him. your lips trailing down his wrist and you repeat the action on his left arm, kissing up the pale, raised path of his scar and to the back of his hand, kissing his ring.

he shakes, biting his bottom lip.

your hand trails down his side, your palm hot against his skin, you snatch off his underwear with a loud rip, throwing the ruined fabric to the side.

cove yelps, trying to close his legs. "y/n!"

you push his legs apart, tugging him so he's laying on his back. "you look divine, my love. i can't resist..." you kiss his inner thigh, getting close to his growing erection before switching to the other thigh. you make eye contact when you part your lips, biting him gently enough to leave a mark but not bleed.

cove moans, covering his face, mumbling something inaudible.

your clawed hands wraps around his wrists, "don't hide your sounds or face from me. i don't want to tie you up." you grin wolfishly, only partially joking.

cove nods and squeaks out his agreement, feeling his temperature rise when you sink back down but not before taking a vial of oil, spreading it over your fingers. "just relax for me.." you purr, slowly sinking in one finger.

he blinks, feeling a bit hazy... right, you mentioned something about pheromones. this must be it, since he feels himself relax and his racing heart evens out.

cove loses himself in your voice, your praises and pet names barely reaching him.

cove whimpers when you add another finger, pushing back on the digits. “good boy,” you purr. “you look so lovely..” your fingers curl against his walls, oil getting on the sheets from how careless you were with it but the mess just adds excitement.

“you’re going to look so pretty on my dick. i almost can’t wait for it..” you pet cove’s cheek, getting close to steal a kiss from his loose lips, pretty moans like a symphony. “it’d be a shame to break you though when we have a whole lifetime to spend together..”

you close the gap, cove mindlessly following your lips and you kiss him so gently it makes his head spin. your lips swallow up his moan when you add another digit, slowly stretching him open.

he breaks the kiss, panting and whines loudly.

your lips fall to his throat, pushing back his hair to place wet kisses along tan skin, stopping to suck a hickey where you feel his pulse under your lips, leaving a deep mark that will take days to heal.

he squirms, forcing your fingers against his prostate. “ahh!” cove cries loudly, his walls convulsing around your digits. you grin, happy to see him falling apart from your fingers alone. “is that your spot?"

you curl your fingers again, rewarding you with a loud moan, his back arching off the bed.

"that's it doll, keep fucking yourself on my fingers." you sink down so you're on your stomach, kissing cove's tummy until you're face to face with his weeping cock.

you kiss the tip, taking him into his mouth.

"ah- y/n.." cove squirms, grinding on your fingers, twisting the sheets. you take him further into your mouth, swallowing around his length.

cove groans, his thigh shaking under your hand. he forgets about a special trait of dragons, and that's your long forked tongue…

you tongue wraps around his dick, spit running down his length and balls, adding to the mess between his legs. cove squirms, thrusting up into your mouth, his fingers finding their way into your hair.

you scissor your fingers and suck at the same time, cove yelling out loud curses and moans. his fingers tighten around your strands and you groan around his length.

“f-fuck!” cove cries, tears welling up in his eyes and his free leg shaking by your side. he tries not to kick you so instead he lets go of your hair and finds your horn, his fingers wrapped around the base.

the vibration from your muffled noises, your growl making your throat move around his leaky cock pushes him over the edge, his cum filling your mouth. cove whimpers, crying your name and his nails scratch the base of your horn as your tongue moves up and down his length, your lips sucking on his tip.

he pushes against your head, his foot hitting the bed. “that’s- hah- that's enough…”

you release his spent cock, wiping your mouth as you admire your darling husband with his face covered by his arm, chest rising and falling (you mentally remind yourself to pay special attention to his pierced tits), and his cock still twitching leaking on his tummy.

cove peaks at you, his bangs sticking to his forehead. “are.. are you gonna put it in?”

your jaw tightens and you feel your dick twitch against your thigh, eager to make those tears caught on his long lashes fall.

you nod, and you resign to a scolding from your tailor later about all the ripped clothes as you throw your underwear to the pile. cove’s eyes roam down your body, his shaky gaze settling on your cock.

he mentally curses, squirming. would.. would you even fit? and what about the eggs? fuck. he feels in over his head.

almost like you’ve read his mind (as if his worry wasn’t obvious), you reassure him. “don’t worry, beloved. you’ll be able to take my cock and eggs, i’ve prepared you for this day haven’t i?”

cove swallows, his stomach stirring pleasantly as he thinks back to all the nights you called him to your room or snuck into his and stretched him open with your fingers or tongue until sunrise, then you’d disappear until the afternoon as if you hadn’t pulled him apart just hours ago.

“yeah..” cove mumbles, watching you pour oil over your dick. you’re so thick, prominent ridges along the underside leading up to your tapered tip, and a fat knot at the base. then his eyes trail down to your cunt, your slick running down your thighs..

“i’ll let you fuck me once we’re done.”

cove snaps out of his trance, meeting your knowing eyes with his own wide saucers. “w-what?!” you lean over him, your wings casting a shadow over you both. “i’ve never had sex with a human, it’ll be interesting.. especially if you’re full of my eggs.”

cove moans, pinching his lips together to muffle the sudden sound.

“ah, so you like that idea! how sweet..” you cheer, almost teasing but he tries not to take it that way. you lack shame, perhaps something caused by living so long, whereas he has much of it, enough shame to be embarrassed by most things out your mouth.

cove didn’t plan to say anything back, but any thought he did have vanishes when you sink inside him, your tip stretching him out and he throws his head back, arching and squirming against the sheets as your dick stretches him open the more you sink into him, the ridges dragging against his walls deliciously.

your tail swings behind you, messing up the bed sheets. you’re panting, trying to give him time to adjust to your size but he’s flushed down to his chest and panting so adorably, his cock still as lively as ever and you can even see a bulge when he sucks in his tummy… you want to ruin him.

cove blinks through his tears, licking his lips.”you.. you can move.” he pants, removing half his face from the pillow.

you lean over him for a kiss, your sweaty chests pressed against each other as he wraps his arms around your neck, pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. he’s too busy feeling your forked tongue along the inside of his mouth to realize you’re rearing your hips back, drunk off pheromones and consumed by your being.

you slam inside him, your knot pressing against his entrance. cove yells into your mouth, breaking the kiss.

you kiss his temple, “you don’t mind if i’m a little rough.. right?”

you don’t even give him a chance to respond, pushing out all his thoughts with you dick, the ridges of your cock dragging against his walls and he’s melting at how your cock easily reaches those sweet spots inside him.

cove cries, clinging onto the pillows as your cock drags against his walls, cum getting all over his and your stomach when you lean down to suck on his jeweled nipples, scraping the sensitive bud with your teeth and hollowing your cheeks.

he whines, his cock twitching and leaking more cum. fuck it feels so good.. and when you finally pull off his nipple is puffy and flushed, then you switch to the other one to do the same. cove cups the back of your neck, letting you suck on his chest.

‘i wonder if i’ll lactate..’ cove stares at the ceiling with blurry vision, his bouncing feet and your brilliant wings in view. you’re using your body to fold him in half, forcing him to open up and take you.

you pull off his nipple with a pop, nuzzling into his neck and nipping at his skin.

“nngh-” cove throws his head to the side, exposing himself to you and you welcome it. cove’s nails drag down your back, catching on the base of your wings.

you groan, your thrusts faltering and your head drops to his shoulder. he can feel your shaking breath, your fingers tightly holding onto his thighs.

“..again..” you mumble against his shoulder. cove blinks, not hearing what you said. “huh? did that- did it hurt?”

you remove yourself from his shoulder, your eyes sharp and panting. “do it again. touch my wings again..”

cove stares dumbly before he nods, stroking the base of your wings and rewarding him with a lovely moan and you shudder, your wings fluttering and flapping. “fuck..” you curse, fixing your grip so your hands on the back of his knees and cove cries out when you set a faster pace, your tip slamming into his g-spot.

your knot is catching on his hole, the sudden stretch whenever you push into his insides makes his head spin and his cock twitch, but every backwards pull of your hips pulls your knot out and it makes his heart hurt. he wants to be full so bad he could cry.

you’re purring, your rumbling chest reverberating through him. “‘gonna knot.. gonna fill you up…” you babble, licking up cove’s tears he didn’t realize he was shedding.

you stop your bullying on his poor guts to ease your knot into him before it didn’t fit, and cove’s nails drag down your scales to your skin. you kiss cove’s open mouth, scooping up all his moans and cries and babbled words with your tongue.

“so good. good mate..” you soothe when your knot finally pops inside him, his tight ass stretched and filled to the brim with you cock. cove wraps his arms around your neck to kiss you properly, and you’re the one who realizes he’s cumming, his cock shooting out long strips of cum over his tummy.

you growl, the sound shaking against cove’s tongue.

you grind into him, your tip right against his prostate. you babble more soothing words and praises as cove cries and whines, feeling your cum paint his insides.

“so good- just a bit more..” you lick his wet cheeks, holding both his hands as he starts to get louder and squirmer, your dick stretching to accommodate your eggs.

cove’s legs are shaking, and his cock even drools more cum.

to think he started out wishing he never agreed to marry you and move to your foreign kingdom, and here he is falling apart on your dick, cumming from your knot and the stretch of your eggs filling up his insides.

“y/n~” cove drawls, whiny. that was one egg… not bad, it’s not as big as he feared it would be, suppose the whispered gossip from the towns ladies back home about how “a dragon's egg would make a human burst!” isn’t anywhere near the truth.

you shush him, kissing his cheeks. “it’s okay, lovely. just a couple more..”

cove whimpers, your cock stretching against his sensitive walls, this time the second and third egg is easier, filling him up quickly. he pants, his weak arms falling to his side, his fingers twitching and he barely finds the strength to hold onto the pillow when he feels more pressure.

“i-i thought-!” cove cries, looking down at his stomach.

even through his bleary eyes he can see his wide stomach, your eggs and cock making his stomach bulge.

cove cries and curses, his head falling back. that… that’s hotter than it should be.

you pant, massaging cove’s thighs. “last one.. last one i promise…”

the egg stretches past your tip, knocking against the other eggs and cove sighs, happy that it’s finally over. he puts a hand on his stomach… dragon eggs definitely aren’t small, and he’s tired.

although.. he can’t help but be a bit happy.

you pet his hair, kissing his cheek…

“i knew you’d look good full of my eggs.”

#sugar-omi kinktober #sugar omi kinktober #kinktober #olba #our life: beginnings & always #cove holden #cove holden x reader #smut #cove holden smut #cove x mc #cove x reader #cove our life #cove holden x reader smut #cove holden x mc #our life cove #our life smut

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vaimetanyx · 11 months

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Alright I've been sitting on some of this stuff for over a year, but here's the first part in a series of cosplay breakdowns! Starting with my most ambitious part of my Zagreus cosplay - the skull pauldron

(Full process under read more)

[Skull pauldron] [Belt] [Greaves] [Toga + sash] [Wig + Laurels] [Armbands] [Flaming feet] [Satyr Sack] [Stygius v1] [Stygius v2] [Nectar]

Now while maybe not the most complex bit of cosplay armor, nor the most detailed skull around, this was my first time working with foam and 3D pattern making in general. So I started off with a rough design mock up with paper, make a pattern with cardboard, then tested to see if the pattern worked with more cardboard (making slight adjustments as I went)

Next was breaking out the foam and starting to make the skulls for real. I had some trouble figuring out angles at first, and a few pieces didn't fit together perfectly, but it still came together in the end. The next skulls went a bit more smooth as I now knew what I was doing

Then some bulking out and detailing with foam clay! I used Lumin's Studio's grey foam clay, and would highly recommend it. I had some trouble deciding on how detailed/realistic to make the teeth and ended up using real dog skulls as reference and simplifying them

I had to prime them to paint - unfortunately plastidip is expensive and I had trouble using it on my other foam pieces, and the pauldron have a very complex shape, so I ended up sealing them with PVA glue. Not the best option but the only one I had at the time. But with that done, I could begin painting. Now, I should have done this after I'd attached the spine section, but I wasn't sure how to tackle that so I distracted myself from spine logistics by priming and painting (I just used acrylic paints)

Then the most difficult part - the spines and attaching them to the toga. My first idea was to make hollow 'bones' that would slot into each other and have internal wire so they're repositionable, but this ended up being far too bulky

In the end I scrapped these pieces and cut them up to make a more flat spine (hot glued onto a wire frame - I used copper wire that has been in my cupboard for 3 years). I had to build a mock shoulder to rest the pauldron on, and did my best to position the base in line with where the toga trim would sit

To make it stick to the toga I used a bit of velcro and two snap buttons in the side corners - the connecting point is also hidden by a material 'sleeve' to help keep it all in place, but I'll have more on that in my toga post. I needed to make sure it was detachable for transport and to be able to wash the toga after wearing it

Then another round of PVA glue and acrylic paint, a few coats of a matte sealer to get that good uniform bone texture over the whole thing, and some black poplin to cover the open base of the skulls, and they're done!

In the end, they're a bit more chunky than I would have liked, and the paint job could use a bit more shading to bring out the shape of the skulls a bit more, but overall I'm quite happy with them!

#my cosplay #cosplay process #hades game #zagreus cosplay #all the official art isn't consistent and that gives me both creative liberty and a headache trying to decide which direction to go in #god this may be my longest post in the 7 years I've been posting on this site #anyway if anyone wants the pattern for the skulls let me know!

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dragonnwriter · 23 days

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Inviolable Bindings

Aemondxfem!OC and Aegonxfem!OC

All Chapters Here!

Chapter 40

**NSFW 18+**

Holding the meeting both under the cover of nightfall and once the busyness of the castle had slowed seemed to make the most sense. Viserra mostly felt dread in anticipation of it all, but found distraction in rehearsing each way she thought things might go. There was not much known about the dealings of the Master of Whisperers and in truth she did not know how to appeal to whatever sense of loyalty or desires that drove him.

Another council meeting had been called in the afternoon and it was after that she approached him. He seemed more than eager to meet with her privately, something that somehow both did and did not surprise her. Just before the hour of the owl he would come, giving her strict instructions to wait in her rooms until that time came.

As she sat on the edge of the sofa by the fire, the hours of the night could not have passed any slower. When she had almost lost hope that he would come, her focus shifted from the dancing flames to the faint sound of grinding stone from behind the large tapestry on the wall. The moment she realized Larys had come from the passageways within the walls, her stomach dropped. This should not have been a surprise that he had known about them. Yet somehow, it still made her uneasy.

“Good evening, My Lady,” he greeted in such a casual manner that it did nothing but reinforce her unease. He took his time making it over to the other armchair across from her, the smile on his face not faltering for even a second.

“Good evening, Lord Larys.” Viserra forced a smile in return, realizing now that she had initiated the start of a game she wasn’t sure she wanted to be playing.

“I thought there might be an point in which you would seek me out,” he began. “You have maintained a quiet yet respected presence since arriving here in King’s Landing, something I truthfully did not expect.”

It took a moment to comprehend what he had meant and it must have been the brief confusion on her face that caused him to elaborate more.

“I have heard many things about you over the years since word of your dragon reached across the Narrow Sea,” he explained. “The Volantene girl besting men in the pits at the age most girls were hoping to find themselves in the eye of some other young lad.” Larys paused for a moment as if giving her time to respond before continuing. “Much was in these letters detailing your skill with the sword and the rumored dragon you mounted and flew about the Free Cities. But honestly, I did not know how much truth there was to it all.”

“ You were the one responsible for summoning me here.” Viserra realized, her words more of a statement than a question. She had quickly come to the conclusion that it was not the late King’s idea to bring her to the Red Keep, but she did not think it had gone further than Otto.

“Indeed, I was the one who presented it to the Hand…well, the previous Hand.”

“I see,” she observed.

“Though with all the talk of the fighting you have done, and even the injuries you survived.” Larys brought his finger to his chest, dragging it to his hip in the same fashion of her own scar that crossed her belly. “No one happened to mention that you also were of striking Valyrian beauty.”

Viserra’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment on her appearance. The way the man was spoke to her did nothing but further her dislike of him. “Is there something that would lead you to think I might appear otherwise?”

“I presume my focus was solely on the logistics and probability that the rumors were true. It completely evaded my mind, I admit. If I had known beforehand, I might have anticipated Aegon’s interest in you.” He tapped his finger on the cane held firmly in his hand, briefly glancing at the stick before looking back. “But do you know what really took me by surprise? That his brother seems just as infatuated with you.”

This was the second time she had been confronted about both Aegon and Aemond. Though in truth, she thought the first could hardly count. Alicent had not been able not even get the words out of her mouth, holding fast to the hopefulness that denial gave her.

Looking back at Larys, she felt the weight of his gaze that pierced right through her. In defense, she folded her arms across her chest. “What of it?” She retorted.

“I am truthfully quite impressed,” he admitted, shifting in his seat. “You have had a significant influence on both of them yet no one has really seemed to notice.”

Inhaling slowly, she was unsure if his words had been meant as an accusation. “Do you doubt that my intentions have not been for the good of the realm, Lord Larys?” she replied, her voice steady despite the irritation that had begun burning in her chest.

Larys nodded, his expression unchanging. “Of course not. I believe that your heart does not desire the power of the throne. Unlike most here, you were not drawn to the pit of vipers that attempt to snake their way in for their own personal gain.”

“I did not come here to seek out the throne,” she repeated, making sure they saw eye to eye on such a treasonous concept . “I have no desire to be shackled to the responsibilities that come with such power.”

“Indeed,” he paused. “Though I also believe you do not play amongst the vipers because you are twisted in your own web made between the three of you.”

Viserra’s brows furrowed as he doubled down on the accusation. “It is quite the precarious position to be in, I assure you. Yet it is something I cannot explain to someone who is unlike any of us,” she narrowed her eyes. “Someone who does not know what it is like to be driven by such fire in your veins.”

Humming thoughtfully, Larys seemed to consider her words. “I do not claim to understand them, my dear. Such things have been happening between Targaryens for as long as the histories have been written.”

Viserra pursed her lips, irritated that things had shifted so far from what she had hoped would be discussed between them. “This is not why I asked to meet with you, Larys.” She enunciated his name in an attempt to level the playing field. “Though I am sure you have enjoyed revealing the depth of your knowledge to me, my concerns are for Helaena and the children’s safety,” she confessed in an attempt to address her original intentions. Surprisingly, it took little effort to shift the direction of the conversation.

“That fear is not unfounded.” Larys agreed. “But what does this have to do with me?”

Viserra scowled but ignored his attempt at appearing ignorant. “I worry that if we are to lose this war and Rhaenyra takes the city, she will not be merciful to the Queen and her children.”

“Another has also come to me with this concern,” he paused, evident that he was now interested in what she had to say. “What do you propose?”

“My father holds significant status and power in Volantis,” she began. “He would be able to secure their safety if they could reach the city.”

For the first time, Larys’ face dropped his usual nonchalant facade and shifted into one of careful consideration. “I am listening.”

“I do not have the means to get them there,” she admitted. “I do not even have the means to confidently get a letter into my father’s hands without risk of interception. But this is why I have come to you.”

There was a long pause, both sitting quietly in the room listening only to the fire crackling. Viserra felt hopeful for the first time in this meeting as she carefully studied the way Larys processed her words.

“I must say I am surprised that amidst all that is brewing within these castle walls, your concern for the girl and her children are what you have come to me for.” He did not attempt to hide the curiosity in his voice, again tapping on the cane as if he were contemplating her intentions.

“I have written a letter,” she hesitated, aware of the high stakes that she played with. “It is written in Valyrian and no names are used to put us at risk. But it must reach my father discreetly.”

Larys leaned forward, extending his hand in a silent request for said letter.

Viserra let out a forced exhale but did not offer it to him. The parting words of her father again sounded in her mind. She knew that this did not come without risk but found peace with the decision knowing she was not going into it ignorantly.

“What would you ask in return?” She inquired, realizing that if he were to help her she would most likely owe him a debt.

Larys’ smile returned to his face, widening as he paused while thinking over her question. “A favor, to be named at a later date. And only once you’ve received confirmation of your letter’s delivery.”

Viserra met his eyes with furrowed brows. The thought of agreeing without knowing the debt she owed only worsened her unease. It was a deal full of potential consequences yet she knew she would go to great lengths to secure the safety of Helaena and the two children.

Rising to her feet, she finally offered him the letter, watching carefully as he tucked it into his pocket. Without another word and only a small nod of his head, Larys took his leave from the room, but this time through the chamber doors.

Though only lasting a few minutes, the interaction had left her feeling exhausted. Both the weight of the agreement and the disgust she felt being in the same room as that man felt unbearingly heavy. She allowed herself a moment to collect her feelings before collapsing on the bed and burying her head in her hands.

Eventually, she forced herself to stop ruminating on it all, realizing that the sun would be rising in only a few hours. Discarding her shoes and her dress in a heap on the floor, she crawled into the blankets and shut her eyes.

Sunrise came sooner than she hoped and the hours she had spent sleeping were not restful. The harsh light and noises of her chambermaids scurrying about in her room seemed to sour her mood before her feet even touched the ground.

Viserra dressed quickly and found she had little patience for Elia fixing her hair into anything but a simple braid. After securing the blade to her hip over the plain silk gown, she didn’t even care to take a look at herself in the mirror before leaving her rooms.

Before she could even reach the bottom of the Serpentine Steps, one of the Kingsguard had found her to inform her that the Small Council was being summoned once again. Knowing that she would not be able to break her fast before being required to attend the meeting only worsened her mood further.

The council assembled quickly but it was Alicent’s attendance that piqued Viserra’s curiosity. She had not come to the last few meetings yet today she seemed eagerly at attention. But as Aemond and Cole began with their explanation of plans to leave for Harrenhal on the morrow, it became clear that this was the first Alicent had heard of it. The concern radiated from her body and remained almost palpable until the meeting concluded.

“Our focus is clear and sure.” Aemond said confidently. “My uncle represents our greatest threat. There is no better time to act than now.”

Alicent had stayed silent until then, but as everything came to a close she could not continue to hold her tongue. “Do you understand the risks, Aemond?” She whispered through her teeth. Viserra watched carefully but did not intervene.

“I am aware, Mother. But we must act before the dragonseeds join with Daemon and they come to take the city.” His voice was low, and it was clear that he did not care for her concerns. “We cannot let fear dictate our course.”

The room was suddenly silent and the air filled with tension between them. Alicent seemed to be the only one who had a problem with his intention to leave, or at least she was the only one to speak up against it. Frustrated, she looked next to Viserra as if she were silently pleading for her to step in and agree. Alicent did not know it, but she had already protested his decision to go and she knew that the concerns only fell on deaf ears.

The council hurried their dismissal, not wanting to become caught in the middle of whatever was happening. Though as Viserra turned to exit herself, she took one last look back to see Alicent still relenting at her son. This was a hopeless battle she would need to fight alone.

Walking back through the hallways, she let the pleasant aroma coming from the kitchens draw her in. If anything, she might try and lift her mood with a treat. The combination of being tired and hungry wouldn’t do her or anyone else favors. Having skipped a morning meal, she eagerly grabbed one of the freshly baked hand pies and held conversation with a few of the kitchen ladies there.

Once satisfied and finding herself in a much better mood, Viserra began making her way back through the Keep. As she finally entered the safety of the Holdfast, her mind deviated from her original plans and she instead found herself in front of the King’s chambers. Without Alicent there to dissuade her from bothering her son, she thought she might take the chance to seek out another moment with Aegon.

The guards acknowledged her with a nod as she slipped through the doors. For mid morning, the room was rather dark and she quickly made her way to the large windows to open the curtains. Aegon did not flinch as the sunlight crossed the room and onto the large bed. For a moment, she studied the peaceful expression on his face, something so different than what was happening beyond his walls.

Against her better judgment, she climbed onto the bed beside him, supporting herself on her elbow and just savoring the quietness of the moment. She began to run her fingers through his hair, brushing the strands from his forehead and realized even then, he did not stir. It was obvious that he was medicated that morning and knowing he remained so sedated, she began mindlessly telling him of Aemond’s plans and her worries about them.

The exhaustion from the previous night quickly caught up with her as she laid in the quiet room. Listening only to Aegon’s steady breathing, she realized that if she let her eyes close for even a moment, she would most likely fall asleep.

The sudden clatter of something hitting the hard floor caused Viserra to snap back to reality. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that Grand Maester Orwyle and his young apprentice now stood in the doorway. While the young boy seemed very much surprised, the Grand Maester did not divert from his calm demeanor.

“My apologies, My Lady. I had not been informed of your visit,” he remarked in a curiously neutral tone.

For whatever reason, Viserra felt slightly defensive for being so caught off guard. “I was not aware that I needed your permission to visit,” she retorted, sitting back up and bringing her legs off the side of the bed.

He ignored her response but continued on with his intentions. “The King was awake in the early morning, but he had taken more milk of the poppy in preparation for us to change his bandages,” he explained.

“Very well. I have no intentions to be in your way as you care for him,” she spoke, standing quickly then making her way past them out the doors. As she passed them, the young boy did not dare meet her eyes, yet the Grand Maester delivered what felt like a forced smile.

After leaving the King’s chambers, she did not feel the need to find herself in any more unpleasant situations. And as soon as she closed her own chamber doors, she plopped herself down on the familiar and soft sofa. She pulled the blade off of her hip and removed it from its scabbard, holding it above her head playfully and smiling at the way it reflected in the day's light. Even laying there on her back, the heaviness of the sword was balanced perfectly. Admiring the craftsmanship and the distinct pattern of Valyrian steel, she was reminded that this blade had yet to see the chaos of real battle in her own hands.

Viserra let out a sigh, resheathing it carefully before placing it beside her against the sofa. The anticipation of Aemond leaving for Harrenhal on the morrow weighed heavily on her mind. For now, there were no questions about anyone’s location and if they were safe. But come tomorrow, Aemond would begin the march up north and those remaining in the Keep would go days between knowing where and how he was.

To stay distracted and out of her own thoughts, Viserra found a few mundane tasks to occupy herself with until she was unexpectedly called to the dining hall. She had suspicion that they would eat supper that night together, and in any other circumstance she would have found it enjoyable.

From the moment she entered the dining hall, she was greeted with the same tension they had left in the Small Council chambers. Alicent did not even have to speak to relay her unsaid disapproval, her usual regal composure was not enough to mask the depth of her concern.

Aemond, in contrast, did not seem to acknowledge the solemn mood of anyone else. Wearing the Conqueror’s crown neatly on his head, he was completely unbothered by the weight of the next day. Each time Viserra drew her attention to him, she found the corners of his mouth just slightly upturned and a brightness in his eye that could not be dimmed.

Finding the wine unusually sweet that evening, Viserra allowed herself a few cups in an attempt to bring herself to Aemond’s level. It was only after requesting her third refill did she finally feel herself relax and be able to be present in the moment. Mayhaps she would share the same excitement, if only she had been leaving with him.

Not wanting to linger any longer than she needed, Alicent had been the first to depart. Walking to Aemond first, she left a heartfelt kiss on his head before turning to head out the doors. He watched her leave and turned to continue with his dinner without missing a beat. After sitting a few more moments with only the clanking of the silverware sounding in the room, Viserra realized that he was now eyeing her as she finished the last of her cup of wine. With his eyebrow raised, he stood gracefully and made his way over to where she was seated.

At first, she watched him with suspicion, not sure of his intentions. Yet when he extended his hand out, she found herself taking it without a second thought. He helped her rise to her feet and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Despite the reminder of the wine’s effects, she was acutely aware of Aemond’s arm slipping around her elbow and the closeness they now shared.

They walked the familiar path back through the corridors and Viserra leaned onto Aemond’s shoulder, not caring if anyone saw them. As they approached the doors to her own rooms, his grasp on her arm remained firm and he kept a steady stride as they passed.

“Unless you wish to retire to bed this evening, come with me,” he spoke, knowing that she would indeed not wish for that.

Bringing her other hand up to hold his arm as well, she let her willingness to keep walking speak for itself. The last cup of wine she had finished in the dining hall felt like it had taken effect and her face felt irritatingly flushed. Looking up to Aemond as he opened the doors to his chambers, she realized that much of her worry and concern about him leaving was rooted in her desire to join him.

As soon as they were in the safe isolation of the dark room, Aemond shut the doors and the rest of the world out. Immediately heading over to the bed, he sat down and watched as she remained standing across the room. A pang of irritation, or mayhaps a bit of jealousy, washed over her, yet he met her with a smug smile as they sorted out the dynamic of this interaction.

Viserra was grateful for the wine as it made it easy to enjoy a bit of tension between them. Her lips mirrored his with a smirk and she finally walked over. As soon as she was within arms reach, he wrapped his arms around her bottom half before pulling her in between his legs.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still while neither of them looked away or attempted to make another move. It was only when Viserra darted her eyes up to the crown sitting on his head that he gave her waist a tight squeeze.

“It looks better on me than it ever did on him,” he proclaimed, his eye dark and full of fire.

The remark caused Viserra to purse her lips and grab him by the chin. “Aemond,” she warned. While she often would entertain his bold statements, she refused to indulge in a comment such as that. Especially in light of Aegon waking the day before.

Undeterred, he met her with another self assured smirk. There was no denying the certain allure that his confidence seemed to draw in. But that was something she would not admit out loud, even if it stirred her own fire within her.

Viserra narrowed her eyes, her grip on his chin tightening as she lifted it up to intensify the warning gaze. Yet as he took in her flushed cheeks and the scowl on her face, he could not help but enjoy her reaction, his smirk widening.

"Somehow, I can’t imagine you any less arrogant," she remarked, her tone softening just slightly as she let go of his chin and found her hands a place on his shoulders.

Aemond’s mouth parted slightly and it was obvious that his confidence was bolstered by her words. Placing his hands on her hips, he pulled her in even closer. “And what does that say about you?” He asked, his voice low and laced with amusement.

Her cheeks flushed a shade darker as she felt the heat course through her veins. Leaning in closer, she let her lips graze the top of his ear. “It does not matter,” she whispered.

His grip on her tightened and she felt his fingers dig into her hips. “I’d say we are two sides of the same coin.” His voice dropped even lower and with one hand, he unlatched the belt holding her blade to her body.

She looked down to watch him disarm her, but as she brought her eyes back up, he wasted no time in taking her lips with his. The heat between them was tense yet they burned together just the same. Deepening the kiss, Viserra lost the desire to discuss anything that involved both him and their position in the Realm.

Without breaking their lips apart, she climbed her way onto his lap, not bothering with adjusting her skirts. His fingers began to work at the laces on the back of the dress and she felt the loosening of the fabric on her shoulders and chest. Returning the favor, she quickly undid the line of buckles on his tunic and helped him shrug it off.

Viserra found her patience to be limited as she broke the kiss in an attempt to hasten the removal of their clothing. Without asking or waiting for permission, she brought her hands up to remove the patch, careful to not disturb the black and rubied crown still sitting neatly atop his head.

Throwing it aside, she let herself admire the shirtless man in front of her, unable to suppress a smile as she took in the beauty of his scarred face. Aemond mirrored the gesture, though he wore something more of a smirk. His hands came up and carefully lifted the crown from his head, but rather than placing it down beside them, he brought it up to position it upon hers.

Wide eyed and silent, Viserra searched Aemond’s face for any hint of what was going through his mind. He appeared to take great delight in the sight of her wearing nothing but the crown before him. Gently, his thumb reached up to pull at her bottom lip, slowly tracing a line all the way down to her navel.

Though overall Viserra had managed to remain composed, the gooseflesh that suddenly riddled her skin gave away the desire and arousal she was feeling. In that moment, she worked hard to keep her breath steadied. Aemond’s hands left her belly and found their way up to her breasts, cupping each one while gently brushing his thumbs over her quickly reacting nipples.

Letting out a forced exhale, Viserra let her head fall back slightly before feeling the crown slip forward on her head. After fixing it to make sure it would not fall, her hands found their place on his shoulders once more and she let her nails press into his skin.

When she felt his soft lips make contact with her breast, she broke the silence and let out a breathy moan. Motivated by her response, Aemond continued to devote his mouth to her chest, pulling her in by the hips so that she now pressed against his cock.

The friction of the touch was intense but it was simply not enough to satisfy either of them. After only a few moments of what felt like cruel teasing, Viserra caught his eye and they seemed to come to a mutual understanding. Rising up on her knees just enough for her to mount him, she carefully brought herself back down to take him within her.

It was Aemond’s turn to end his silence, a low groan leaving his mouth as he felt her slowly begin to accommodate him. She watched as he closed his now glazed over eye, fighting with himself to maintain control as she let a satisfied smile pull at her lips.

They both allowed themselves a moment to simply enjoy the satisfaction that came with such an intimate connection before either of them made another move. Viserra reached up to steady the crown on her head once more before leaning forward to brace herself on his chest and slowly beginning their dance as she set the pace.

Aemond let her take control at first, his own hands roaming over her body before finding their place back to her hips. Eventually, he began guiding her movements in a faster rhythm, his fingers pressed firmly into the soft skin of her rump. Each time their bodies met, Viserra could feel the ball tightening within her lower abdomen. Her nails dug into his skin even more and she did not care in the least about the marks that were left in their place.

Between shared moans and shaky breaths, their lips found each other and hungrily met in a sloppy union. Aemond brought her hips to his with even more urgency, beginning the final chase to his release. As she felt her own walls tighten around him, she toppled into her orgasm, coping with the intensity by pulling his bottom lip in between her teeth and biting down.

“Fuck,” he groaned into her mouth, finding that the unexpected pain only enhanced all of the sensations in that moment. Aemond’s hands suddenly held her trembling hips flush with his, holding her in place as he finally spilled himself within her. Viserra let go of his lip and wrapped her arms around his neck, collapsing on him as she savored the last of him pulsating inside her..

Neither spoke a word as they savored the intensity of the moment. Both found themselves to be quite out of breath, and it took a few minutes for their breathing to gradually return back to normal.

Viserra was the first to make a move, lifting herself off of his lap and settling on one hip at his side. Aemond leaned back and turned to her, his hand brushing a loose strand of hair from her face and straightening the crooked crown on her head. She gave him a soft smile and watched as he proceeded to run his eyes over her jawline down to her chest.

“I am going to need that back before the nights’ end,” he spoke, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.

With raised brows, Viserra let out a laugh. “Take it back now, if you want it,” she offered, reaching up with her free hand to remove the heavy metal piece. “This is your wish, not mine.”

But Aemond intercepted the motion, his hand firmly grasping her wrist. “Leave it,” he insisted.

Viserra studied his face again, trying to figure him out. His serious tone and the firm hold he had on her wrist left no room to doubt that he meant what he had said. She rolled her eyes but obliged and did not make another attempt to remove the crown. Leaning in, she gently pressed her lips against his.

Aemond returned the kiss without hesitation, his hand still holding onto her as if he were afraid she would not listen. When she noticed that the usually sweet taste of his lips now hinted of warm metal, she pulled back. Wiping her bottom lip with her thumb, she discovered a small amount of blood. She quickly realized that she had bitten him quite hard, a bold move that she had not intended to take so far.

A mixture of guilt and arousal washed over her, unsure of how he would respond to the assault. Aemond, however, only widened his grin, his eye lit up as he looked at her. Reaching out, he brought her thumb to his mouth, running it over the swollen bump.

A cold shiver ran down Viserra’s spine and she felt her heartbeat begin thumping in her chest. Watching his fire burn over something like this both thrilled and unnerved her. In that moment, she recognized they both understood the darker threads woven in the other, that they were truly bound in a way others could not even attempt to understand.

Aemond released her thumb from his grip and brought himself closer to her ear. “I am eager for the day we both step on the battlefield,” he spoke, his warm breath tickling her skin.

“I hope to have the chance,” she quipped, feeling the fire in her chest begin to smolder with the return of their realities . She reminded herself that they both had caught the other veering recklessly into situations that would have been better handled with a level head. Though fiery impulsiveness was in their blood, it was something that needed to be managed in a way that ensured they survived each move on the warfront. “Promise me, Aemond,” she began, her gaze locked in with his. “You will not let this burning desire to eradicate your uncle blind your senses.”

Aemond looked amused at her words, but as he opened his mouth to speak, she quickly continued on.

“If you meet your death in Harrenhal before ever letting me have the chance to join you in battle, I won’t only be disappointed, I will be quite angry,” she vowed.

Aemond shut his mouth and he pulled his lips into another smile. “I promise you,” he affirmed. “I will not die without giving you that chance.”

A forced exhale left her mouth as she rolled her eyes and leaned onto the arm supporting her. Words could only mean so much, but she would have to find some sort of peace in Aemond’s promise. And in that moment, her only option was to enjoy these last few hours before knowing that the coming days would be long as they awaited word of the army’s arrival and Aemond’s success in the Riverlands.

#fanfiction #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x aegon ii x oc #house of the dragon aemond #game of thrones #house targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x oc #hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fic #houseofthedragon #aemond x oc #aemond smut #house of dragons #aemond one eye #aegon ii

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tafeekafee · 2 months

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⌛🐶 I will stay for you

Sickie: Yunho

Caretaker: Seonghwa and Hongjoong (mostly)

„Fifteen minutes until stage“, the lead manager called through the waiting room where the ATEEZ members were relaxing until they started their concert. He sounded frantic. “Where is Yunho-yah?”

Seonghwa looked up from his phone, having checked the Twitter messages from ATINY who were looking forward to the concert. Yunho had been sitting next to him since they were both done with make-up, hair and styling. At one point the younger had excused himself to the bathroom and since then he hadn’t returned. Taking a look at the clock, Seonghwa realized he had lost track of time – he was sure that his dongsaeng must have been gone for over twenty minutes now.

“Seonghwa?”, Hongjoong said, looking around too, “wasn’t he with you?”

“Uh, yeah”, Seonghwa admitted, “he went to the bathroom, I think, but he’s been gone for some time. Should I go look for him?”

The manager looked like he wanted to protest, probably not eager to lose another member so close to the concert but then a loud curse had them look at Wooyoung. The younger member had somehow managed to spill his soda all over his stage outfit, the white shirt sticking to his skin. He and San stared at each other in shock, frozen in their game of catch.

Hongjoong rolled his eyes next to him. Yet Seonghwa recognized the worry in how he held himself, and also the guilt of not having noticed they were missing a member. Seonghwa squeezed his hand in comfort.

“Yeah, go look for him. I’ll get them sorted out”, the manager sighed. Seonghwa nodded and put his phone on the table. Stretching slightly he got up and left the waiting room, looking up and down the hallway to figure out where their dance leader might have disappeared to. It wasn’t like Yunho to just vanish without a trace – especially half an hour before one of their concerts. There must have been a bigger reason for that.

Not sure where to search Seonghwa decided to check the bathrooms first, especially since Yunho had said he needed to go there. He just hoped that the younger man wasn’t sick or anything – maybe lost somewhere in the admittedly not so large venue.

When he pushed open the door to the bathroom he heard the strangled sound of heaving and he was immediately assaulted by the stench of vomit. It seemed like his fear had come true – this was a disaster. Deciding that logistics of the concert could be the manager’s problem he went to check on his dongsaeng.

“Yunho-yah? Are you okay?”, he called as he knocked on the only locked stall door, mentally face-palming. The sounds coming from the stall were most certainly not an indication that Yunho was okay.

There was another retch and then a hesitant: “Hwa-hyung?”

“It’s me, let me in?”, he asked and after a second he heard a click but the door didn’t open. He pushed down the handle, glad that the door opened to the outside and peeked inside. What he found was a truly heart-breaking sight.

Yunho was kneeling in front of the toilet, resting his head on his arms which were crossed over the bowl so he could get sick without moving and maximum comfort – at least as comfortable as was possible in such a position. The parts of his skin that Seonghwa could see were nearly translucent and, like his hair, full of sweat. All in all he looked pitiful.

While normally a clean freak, Seonghwa didn’t hesitate to kneel down behind him, placing a hand on his back and tentatively rubbing circles. For the moment Yunho seemed to have a respite from vomiting so Seonghwa, full of concern, asked: “What happened? Why didn’t you say earlier that you felt sick?”

“I don’t know what happened”, Yunho rasped, voice nearly gone from the constant strain on his throat and soundly strangely muffled from his position practically inside the toilet, “I was fine all day, even during make-up and then from one second to the next I started feeling like I was going to be sick so I came in here.” He stopped to cough with triggered a dry-heave but he didn’t bring up anything for the moment.

“I wanted to go back and say that I can’t perform but I haven’t had more than a few minutes without vomiting since I started. I don’t know why I can’t stop vomiting.”

Seonghwa sighed and squeezed his shoulder with his free hand. “I’m sorry you’re feeling so sick”, he offered helplessly. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Uh, could you…” Yunho broke off as he burped and then he jerked forward as he started to bring up his stomach contents again. Seonghwa gently held back his hair from his forehead, letting Yunho rest his head against his palm, while rubbing his back again. He watched how Yunho spat out wave after wave of stomach contents, trying not to feel too queasy at the sight of the noodles from lunch making an encore appearance in a less appetizing way.

“Oh, Yunho-yah”, Seonghwa whispered, panicking internally. This was not in his job description of being the oldest hyung. What do you do when you were holding a violently sick idol in your arms when you both need to be in stage in less than ten minutes? Why didn’t an idol contract came with a ‘how to deal with your (sick) dongsaengs’ handbook?

Finally Yunho stopped bringing up anything for the time being, so Seonghwa helped him lean back against the stall wall. He ripped off a piece of toilet paper and gently wiped Yunho’s mouth, the younger having closed his eyes in exhaustion. Seonghwa threw the soiled paper into the toilet and flushed. It really didn’t do anything for the smell anymore.

“Yunho? Uh, I have to find the manager and Hongjoong, there is no way you can perform like this. Do you want to come with me to the waiting room or stay here?”

“I don’t think I should move too far away”, Yunho whispered and hiccoughed wetly.

“Okay, I’ll be quick, sweetheart. You won’t be alone for long, I promise.” Seonghwa pressed a kiss against Yunho’s forehead – a silent promise – and pushed himself up.

He left the bathroom quickly but before the door close he could hear Yunho throwing up again. He jogged back to the waiting room and was nearly hit in the face by the door. The manager apologized and pulled him inside.

Inside all the members were ready to go on stage, but there was worry in their face. Hongjoong was desperately trying to keep a cool façade but Seonghwa could tell that the captain was anything but relaxed.

“Where were you?”, the manager hissed, not malicious but stressed, “why did you take so long? You have to be on stage in five minutes! Didn’t you find Yunho-yah?”

“Yeah, about that”, Seonghwa started, feeling like he just walked to his doom, “Yunho-yah is in the bathroom. He can’t stop throwing up, I don’t know what is wrong…”

For a moment the manager just stared at Seonghwa and he wasn’t sure if the manager was about to cry or laugh.

“Please tell me you are joking”, he pleaded instead.

Seonghwa shook his head. “I really don’t want to eat noodles anytime soon.”

“Right, uhm, yeah, uhh… shit”, the manager mumbled, then activated his headset. “Move the beginning of the show fifteen minutes back.”

“What do we do now?”, Wooyoung asked the question they were all asking themselves.

“There is no way Yunho can perform”, Seonghwa said, turning to the manager.

“But…”, the manager started, but stopped himself.

Hongjoong stepped forward, playing a hand on the manager’s arm. “I won’t allow a sick member to perform, especially if he is off as badly as Seonghwa described. I will go check on him, the rest of you figure out how we can get him home. ATINY won’t care that we are missing a member, they will be worried if anything.”

With that Hongjoong left the dressing room, not unlike a man on a mission.

⌛

Hongjoong wouldn’t admit it but he was close to freaking out. A sick dongsaeng was always an issue but especially when missing a concert. Not only had the fans paid to see them but the sick member would feel like they were letting down the team and ATINY. Besides, in their dorms illness spread like wildfire.

The moment he entered the bathroom he heard the sobbing. Steeling himself, he walked towards the stall where he could see Yunho’s shoe peeking out. His dance leader really was too big for these stalls.

He knocked on the door, just an acknowledgement not asking for entrance. Behind the door he found Yunho leaning against the plastic wall, one knee pulled to his chest, the other leg stretched out. He had his head resting on the knee, arms wrapped around, hugging himself.

“Hey, baby”, Hongjoong whispered, kneeling down. Yunho didn’t lift his head, just turned slightly so he could look at him. Hongjoong reached out and brushed his sweat-soaked hair away from his glazed over eyes.

“Hyung?”, Yunho suddenly said, voice hoarse, “shouldn’t you be on stage?”

“Don’t worry about that, Yunho. We pushed the beginning of the show back so we can take care of you”, Hongjoong soothed.

“But ATINY, the concert”, Yunho said, body shaking as he cried.

Gently Hongjoong took the younger’s hands in his own. “ATINY will understand. Your health is more important. You know you can’t perform like this.”

Yunho just continued crying but soon the sobs turned into heaves. Quickly Hongjoong helped his dongsaeng back over the toilet as bile spilled from his mouth.

Exhausted, Yunho slumped back into his captain the moment he was done. Buried under his tall member, Hongjoong just wrapped his arms around him, trying to help him calm down. He wished he had brought a water bottle or anything so they could try to get Yunho at least a bit hydrated.

As if they had heard his prayers, the door to the bathroom opened and they were quickly joined by Mingi and Jongho.

“Oh, hyung”, Jongho giggled a bit. Hongjoong assumed they must make quite a picture, the smallest member trying to hold up the biggest member all the while unable to even wrap his arms completely around his chest.

They helped Hongjoong move Yunho back against the wall and Mingi knelt down next to his best friend.

“Yunho? I know you feel terrible but can you try to drink some water for us?”, he asked, holding out a bottle.

Reluctantly, but likely too tired to protest, Yunho let Mingi place the bottle against his lips and took a few sips. At that time, Jongho turned to Hongjoong. “Manager-hyung send us to fetch you two. We set up the couch for him, Yunho-hyung can rest there until we go home. The managers and the stylist noonas said they would keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you, Jongho, Mingi”, Hongjoong said, relieved. While he wished that they could get Yunho home and into bed as soon as possible, he was reluctant to send him home alone. This way they could check on his during outfit changes and the break.

Hongjoong stepped out of the stall, so that Jongho and Mingi were able to help Yunho to his feet in the narrow space. Slowly they made their way back to the dressing room.

The other members smiled at them as they entered, Wooyoung clutching Yeosang’s and San’s hands, while Seonghwa was talking with the manager. As promised the couch was set up with a blanket, a pillow and a bucket. Carefully Jongho and Mingi helped Yunho lay down and immediately San was kneeling by his roommate, running his fingers through the black hair.

“Hey, Yunho”, he whispered, “don’t worry, we got you. Sleep.”

And sleep Yunho did. Through their whole concert and the frequent check-ups by his members; in fact he was barely awake when Mingi and Seonghwa led him to their car home. Hongjoong and Seonghwa sat down in the seat next to the sick dancer, holding his hands – and when the nausea combined with the motion of the car got too much – a plastic bag.

Once he was cleaned up and changed into comfortable pyjamas, Hongjoong expected Yunho to fall back asleep as soon as he was horizontal. Yet Yunho blinked open his eyes and grabbed Hongjoong’s hand.

“The concert?”, he rasped, voice gone from the repeated vomiting.

“We missed you terribly, as did ATINY, but they are were worried and are sending you all their love”, Hongjoong soothed, rubbing his shoulders, “nobody minded, just get better soon.”

“’Kay”, Yunho mumbled, his last reserves of energy depleted, “stay?”

“I’ll stay, baby, don’t worry”, Hongjoong said, exchanging a glance with Seonghwa. They had decided earlier that the two eldest would stay with Yunho during the night, sharing San’s bed. San would have to bunk with one of the others or could enjoy the freedom of a room for himself for once if he decided to sleep in the hyung’s room. But they way Yunho was tugging at Hongjoong’s hand was clear.

Without further ado, Hongjoong slipped into bed with Yunho, wrapping him in his arms. Seonghwa placed a trash can by the side of the bed, then he turned of the light and got under San’s covers.

“Sleep well”, Hongjoong whispered, pressing a kiss to Yunho’s forehead.

#sickfic #ateez #ateez sickfic #yunho #sick yunho #seonghwa caretaker #hongjoong caretaker #yunho sickfic #emeto #kpop emeto #🧚🏽‍♀️#⏳️#🐶

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ceterisparibus116 · 1 year

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Do we know if Matt was blipped or not? How do you think it would be in either case?

AAAAAAA

So yeah, I wrote out a whole essay about how I think Born Again could/should/shouldn't address the blip, and then realized you weren't actually specifically asking about Born Again.

Sorry!

But there are some general non-Born-Again-specific points here, so...I hope this covers what you were asking?

Ahem.

I don't think we have any confirmation one way or the other yet, and I wonder if Born Again will address it. It's been long enough since the blip that I could see them kinda just...ignoring it, unless the blip is a big plot device. But if they want to stick closer to the gritty realism of the original show, it makes sense to not make the blip a big plot device. So I would be very understanding (and even, I think, appreciative) if they chose to just kinda ignore it.

That said, if they include it, I really hope they address the legal implications. TFATWS tried to touch on it (operative word being "tried") but Matt could actually take on clients who've been displaced by the blip or otherwise been affected by the blip.

And then there's the question of how it would affect our characters personally. There, the logistical questions (e.g. "Did Matt lose his apartment?") are less interesting to me, personally, than the psychological questions. Like, how would Matt feel about being blipped? My headcanon, as addressed in my post-No-Way-Home fic, is that Matt would blame himself for not being around to help people for 5 years. Or if Matt wasn't blipped, how would he cope with the trauma of hearing so many people vanish, and then trying to deal with the aftermath as both a lawyer and Daredevil? Like, that man would probably go a week without sleeping just trying to help everyone. Either way, Born Again could address that.

However, it would take a lot of work for Born Again to address the psychological impact of the blip, one way or the other, well. Why? Because your options are either:

a) inform the audience after the fact (e.g. through exposition, dialogue, or inferences) about how, exactly, the blip was traumatic for Matt, so that we can appreciate his healing journey; or

b) show the audience (e.g. through a flashback) how the blip was traumatic for Matt, so that we can appreciate his healing journey.

And both approaches are kinda clunky. Informing the audience about something we didn't actually experience with the character will never be as impactful as watching it unfold. But flashbacks pull the narrative backwards rather than advancing it, and are notorious for bogging down a story.

Frankly, I just don't have a lot of faith that Disney can pull off a blip arc well. I'd much prefer they focus Matt's emotional journey on things that are happening to him now, in Born Again, rather than on things that happened somewhere between the Netflix show and Born Again.

Unless:

c) Born Again is literally set immediately after the blip (if Matt doesn't get blipped) or immediately after Matt blips back (if he does get blipped).

That would be fine, except I don't know how that would affect Born Again's relationship to other Marvel projects like No Way Home, She-Hulk, Echo, etc. And, I mean, personally, I don't care whether Born Again is before or after any of those other shows. I'm watching Born Again for Matt, not to see how it syncs up with Matt going to California to see Jen or anything like that. But Marvel at least claims to be serious about cohesive timelines, so I don't think they'll go the route of (c).

#meta #matt murdock #daredevil #daredevil born again #daredevil born again speculation #asks #ask me things i'm friendly

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wigglytuff-guild · 8 months

Text

Welcome to Wigglytuff's Guild!

There are three important rules here...

ONE! Don't shirk work!

TWO! Run away and pay!

THREE! Smiles go for miles!

Follow these, and we'll all have a great time! ♪

I'm Chatot! I'm the Pokémon in the know around these parts! If you have any questions about our guild, or requests for help, we're happy to help out! ♪ We have quite a few members in this guild... why don't you all say hello?

I guess I'll go first... I'm Bidoof, yup yup! I'm the youngest apprentice here, since my two juniors graduated! And I'm also the one who found this strange tablet... by golly, that surprised me! I take on a lot of basic jobs here, so you'll see me wandering around the guild and Treasure Town a lot!

Oh my gosh, am I next?! Hi!!! I'm Sunflora! I'm the oldest apprentice here, and lately I've been working on... becoming a traveling healer! Yippee! Don't think I'm not a super-tough adventurer too, though!

Then it's MY TURN! I'm Loudred! I'm the one who makes Guild ANNOUNCEMENTS and handles SENTRY DUTY! If there's something SUPER IMPORTANT to say, you're gonna hear it from ME, okay? Diglett isn't much for words, after all!

Hey hey, I'm Corphish! I'm just a pretty normal guy, hey hey... But I take on a lot of the guild's water rescue jobs! I love the ocean more than anybody else here!

I'm Chimecho. I do the cooking for the group, and I'm also something of... the brains. I help all of our Guild members gather up their friends from other areas with my Friendship Bell! It's a pretty logistics-heavy role, but I enjoy it!

I'm Croagunk. What do I do at my cauldron...? Meh-heh-heh. ...Nah, it's nothing intimidating. I run the Croagunk Swap Shop. You can get some pretty good items from it. Worth a visit, even if you're not Guild material... meh-heh-heh.

And last, but most obviously not least... ♪

Hi! I'm Wigglytuff! I'm the guild's Guildmaster! I plan out big, fun expeditions for everyone, and I love Perfect Apples! ♪ If you need anything, I'm happy to help out! Let's be friends ♪

Ahem. That all being said! We plan to investigate the mysteries behind this strange tablet here to better understand our world! ♪ It would also be nice to spread the word of Wigglytuff's Guild, so we will also share stories and serve as a hub for special requests. ♪ Thank you for reading! ♪

General unreality warning for this blog, given it's Pokéblogging.

Hello, it's Ace (adult, she/him pronouns) back again with another blog! Any follows and likes related to this blog will come from @aceoflilies.

This blog is multi-muse, will generally stick to PMD canon with a few headcanons to fill in gaps (as you can see in some character's descriptions!), and should, generally speaking, be low-stakes. That being said, interaction is absolutely welcome! Send them asks, reblog their posts, even DM me if you'd like to set up some sort of plot.

(Side note: Please don't send in any NSFW asks to this blog. They're Pokémon.)

Each post will be tagged with the guild member who's writing it (e.g. #Sunflora posting). Asks will be tagged #ask the guild, and any spoilers for PMD: Explorers (Past The Mystery of Fogbound Lake) will be tagged #explorers spoilers . There may be special guests who come in at some points, who would also be tagged (say, #team tasty posting). Any OOC posts will be tagged //ooc post, //ooc ask, or //ooc rb (or //ooc reblog). OOC comments are denotated with //.

Think that should be everything for now! Thanks for reading!

#//ooc below cut #pokeblogging #pkmn irl #pokemon irl #rotomblr #pokeblr #pmd #pmd explorers #intro post

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alcego · 1 month

Text

Words Written: 2,082 words Projects:

Commission - Slow going. Moved it back into GDocs so I can write at work. I think the format is what's throwing me the most - it's not a style I usually work in and I am in a touch over my head. It's fully planned and otherwise moving along well.

REDO-REPEAT - Wrote this AFTG fic on a whim, chasing motivation-inspiration to get the gears oiled up. It's not everything the idea could be, but I'm happy with what it is given why I wrote it. Not everything needs to be perfect lol. You can read it here, but do mind the tags.

Original Work - Haven't spent much time on my original work, although I do have an idea percolating in the back of my head that I should probably rough out soon. I have a couple other shorts that need to be re-drafted, but I think I need more space from them before I get going again.

Notes:

Wasn't feeling great this week for a variety of reasons. I'm trying to catch back up on life after my second ever kidney infection (caught it early enough this time that my suffering was significantly easier to deal with), not to mention worrying and checking in on Winnie daily now that she's due to foal any day now. (Most likely she has a week or two left. However, sometimes they progress very quickly, so it's prudent to be watchful.) There are other things going on beyond that, of course, but suffice it to say I've been overwhelmed and that is not conducive to writing for me.

Have been consistently frustrated that I don't have a good "writing nook", which has been doubly frustrating because I have several places from which to work, but none of them have been facilitating Getting Things Done. This is a problem for writing but it's equally troubling on my WFH days. Lately I've been most productive in bed. I do not like this, as my bed is supposed to be for sleeping only. Have been looking into purchasing a used chair/ottoman for writing purposes, but there are a lot of logistics to consider there.

In a similar note to the above, I'm irritated by the size of my MacBook. It's a 13", which I ordered during the pandemic and decided it was "good enough" upon realizing it was smaller than expected. I no longer think this, as the keyboard is cramped and the screen doesn't have as much space as I'd like. I've considered going back to my old 17" Dell, which I wrote on prior to purchasing this laptop, but that laptop has fallen victim to planned obsolescence and is unable to receive the updates it needs to function at the level I require. I've looked into larger MacBooks (for budgeting purposes, mostly, although I wonder if I could trade-in my old laptops and have enough store credit for a used one?) but so far as I can tell the keyboard does NOT scale, which is irritating, as I'd prefer one with slightly larger keys so I stop stumbling over how close everything is. The other option is go back to Windows, but this is problematic as I very much prefer the iCloud files syncing to access my WIPs from my phone. Basically: no good solutions. I'll have to keep looking, which is fine, because I don't have the budget to get anything yet.

Not sure how to tie this in, as I suspect it's related to most, if not all, of my whining, but I've been noticing yet again that I have more "luck" writing analog than I do when I'm working on my phone or laptop. That makes it harder to track what I've written, but it's functional, and has gotten me through several sticking points.

Not sure what I'm going to work on after this commission is complete. I think, tentatively, that I might finish a JereJean PWP that has been on the backburner for a while, then finish roughing out my ex-mixtape fic (I got sick and ran out of time, so dropped the event) before polishing it for posting. After that, I want to revisit Vestigial, which has been shelved for a while. I'm hoping that if I get back in the groove of finishing stories, I'll be in a better headspace to get back to my original work, but we'll see. Nothing's set in stone just yet, and my writing stamina isn't high enough yet that I can just bust through any of these without long term repercussions. Slow and steady is key for a bit.

#weekly writing update #updates #aj's adventures in writing #i'm just popping this bad boy here for now. not sure what i'm going to do with my writing sideblog #possible i'll go back to updating there but IDK! i haven't been on tumblr much lately #Week of 3/11 - 3/17 #technically REDO-REPEAT is from 3/10 but im counting it here #as i wasn't logging that week

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cellsshapedlikestars · 2 years

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So I have read all your stories at least 3 times. I am so in love with your Jon/Sansa. Are you still taking prompts? I have loved revisisting your one shots. For some reason I am obsessed with time travel AU's (is there something terribly wrong with my psyche? Possibly) I would love a time travel au. Cannonish Jon, Sansa, or both time traveling. I don't even care what point they travel from or to. Extra points for awesome arya/sansa friendship (you are seriously so good at that). Thanks

Dearest anon.

First of all, what a sweet message, I'm so happy you like my stories!

Second: I'm pretty much always taking prompts? I may not fill them right away, but my ask box is always open for a reason. And I will say I do appreciate you sending this. I've been feeling very creatively blocked for a while and haven't written anything at all in about two weeks now, until today. This gave me a good reason to write again, even if I'm not sure how great it turned out. As a warning, I spent all day today around a bunch of children and my brain is fried, so please ignore any plot/spelling/grammar errors.

Third: well, you definitely chose a genre that I am not the biggest fan of lol. Time travel is NOT my thing, unfortunately. I tend to get bogged down in the logistics of how and why, and how it would disrupt history and mess up timelines and I get very overwhelmed. So I hope this works!

Since I am now posting my tumblr one shots to ao3, you can read this prompt on ao3, or below the cut.

ephemera - chapter 16: time travel

He knows how this will end.

Sweat trickles down his temple, gathers in the hollow of his throat, sticks his shirt to his back. He can feel the beginnings of fatigue setting in, and yet... and yet Aegon looks worse.

Jon knows how this should end. He knows how this will end, and those are two very different things.

Because there is a gleam in Aegon's eye and Jon knows he has let this go on too long already. Any longer, and he will win. Because he is better. He has always been better.

But bastards are not allowed to be better, and so he changes his stance, opens his guard, and lets Aegon's next thrust hit.

“First blood,” Aegon declares triumphantly, as those gathered to watch applaud him. “Don't look so gloomy, bastard, you held your own better than usual.” Aegon smiles, as though he does not realize Jon threw the match. Maybe he truly thinks he won. The Targaryens are not known for their humility.

And so Jon takes the loss and leaves the courtyard, ignoring the pain lancing from the wound on his arm, the blood seeping into his shirtsleeve and dripping down to his wrist. Rage sits inside of him, but he pushes it down, as he has learned to do. Bastards are not allowed to have anger. They are not allowed much.

He is lucky he has been allowed to live at all these four and twenty years.

He knows he is living on borrowed time. Once father is gone, there will be no more protection for him. Perhaps it will be Aegon. Perhaps Viserys or Daenerys. Perhaps Rhaenys will decide she and her Tyrell husband want the throne, instead. No matter who takes the throne after Rhaegar, Jon will die.

Sometimes he thinks of running away to Essos, or beyond the Wall, but he knows it is pointless. They will track him to the ends of the world. A bastard Targaryen is a dangerous thing.

When he realizes where he is, he blinks and lifts his clean sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow and stares at the great oak in front of him. The heart tree. He had not even realized he was walking here.

He used to visit the godswood when he was a boy, hoping to feel his mother's gods, but that was in vain. True Northerners do not worship beneath oaks. Or perhaps her gods have forsaken him. Denied him, and the dragon's blood he carries in his veins.

“I did not think southerners looked for their gods in the trees,” a cool voice says from behind him, and Jon turns to see the red witch there. She'd come all the way from Asshai to his father's court.

Jon does not know what to say. The red witch sends unpleasant shivers up his spine. He does not like the way she looks at him.

“You are looking in the wrong place,” she says, hand reaching up to stroke her fingers over the red jewel at her throat. With a secretive smile, she walks past him, towards the oak tree. “I heard you the other day,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at him, still with her lips curled up into a smile. “Your brother had some interesting things to say about me.”

“Half brother,” Jon says, automatically.

“Well, your half brother had some interesting words. As did your father. In fact, all the so called dragons here do not seem to take me very seriously. Except you. You feel my power, do you not?”

Jon still does not know what to say, and so he stays silent, turning to watch her walk - wary, guarded, one hand on his sword hilt. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as... something seems to happen. He does not know what. He can see nothing, but he feels it. Like that time lightning had struck a tree near to them while he was out on a hunt. The air had felt different, smelled different. It feels that way now.

“You do not belong here, little dragon-wolf,” she says. “This is no home for you, and I should like to teach your kin a lesson.”

“A lesson?” he asks, hand tightening on his sword hilt.

“A lesson in power,” she says, turning to face him again, eyes blazing, her thin fingers still stroking the jewel at her throat, which begins to glow. “A lesson for them. And for you? Well, you have been wishing to go somewhere – somewhere they cannot follow.”

“How did you-” he starts, but it is too late. She steps forward and, with one hand pressed to the glowing jewel, she touches the fingers of her other hand to his forehead, and everything goes black.

…...

“Rickon!” Sansa calls, hopefully not too loud.

“Calm down,” Arya drawls, following behind. “How much trouble can he get into around a bunch of trees?”

Sansa shoots a glare at her sister over her shoulder, but doesn't stop walking.

“Fair enough,” Arya snorts.

Why did she agree to let her siblings come visit her at work? This is her first job right out of college, and she's going to blow it because Rickon ran off. With her luck, he'll end up burning the ancient godswood down.

The ancient, carefully preserved godswood that is part of the Red Keep Historical Museum, which she just got hired at three weeks ago.

Mom, dad, Arya, and Rickon had all come to Kings Landing for Bran's national chess tournament, and Sansa had agreed to let Arya and Rickon visit her at work so that mom and dad could have some peace while Bran prepared.

Except Rickon is going to get her fired.

“Sansy!” she hears him shout, and she mutters a quick thank the gods to herself as she changes course and follows his voice, towards the largest tree in the godswood – the oak that stands in for the heart tree in lieu of a weirwood.

“Sansy, look!” her little brother says when she finally reaches the tree, his face full of wonder, but Sansa can only stare at what he's pointing to.

A man, sitting propped up at the base of the heart tree. He looks asleep, except for the awkward way his limbs lay.

“Oh gods,” she whispers, moving forward and kneeling down in front of him.

“I found him like this,” Rickon says, like he's trying to defend himself before she can accuse him of mischief. “Why is he dressed so funny?”

Sansa looks at the unconscious man's clothes and Rickon is right, they aren't normal. “He must be one of the actors here,” she says with a frown. Sometimes the museum has events where they hire actors for reenactments, but she hadn't heard of any recently, and besides, this man is dressed so... plainly. A simple tunic, clearly made of unbleached linen and hand-sewn, which impresses her. The breeches are the same. She is not used to such care being put into costumes these days. There is even a sword strapped to his hip that looks disturbingly real.

“Sir?” she asks, reaching a hand out to grip his shoulder and she shakes him slightly. “Are you alright?”

It's then that she notices the tear in the sleeve of his tunic, the way it's stained red, the slice through his upper arm. The sight of the wound makes her stomach roil, but she swallows against the nausea.

“Should we call someone?” Arya asks, and Sansa almost jumps in shock; she'd forgotten all about Arya.

“Maybe-” she starts, but then the man begins to stir. His brows furrow together and he lets out a small groan as his eyes open.

They're a piercing slate grey, and with the way the sun hits them, Sansa could swear she sees purple around the edges. She can feel herself start to blush as he stares at her, and it strikes her then that he's quite handsome. Dark brows and a dark beard, with dark hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head. Long lashes and full lips.

She shakes that thought out of her head.

“Oh good,” she says shakily, “you're awake. Are you alright?”

He blinks at her a few times before moving to stand up, and she backs away as he does, trying not to notice how his clothing strains across his well-muscled shoulders as he moves. He's hurt, and she's a terrible person for getting so distracted.

“I didn't mean to frighten you, my lady,” he says slowly, brows still furrowed as he looks around in confusion.

“My lady?” Arya snorts, and Rickon lets out a gleeful cackle at it. Sansa feels her face go hot.

“You're bleeding,” she says, and the man frowns at her and then looks to where she is pointing, as if he hadn't noticed.

“I did not get a chance to bandage it, before...” he says, still seeming confused. “Where did the red witch go?”

“The who?” Arya asks.

“A witch?” Rickon bounces excitedly and looks around for this mysterious witch.

“I think maybe you've hit your head,” Sansa says. “Do you know your name?”

“I am...” he hesitates, then finally seems to look at her. He takes her in, dragging his eyes from her face and down, down to her feet. If she didn't feel hot and flushed before, she certainly does now. Then he turns to look at Arya and Rickon, face growing ever more clouded with confusion as he does.

“Maybe we should call for an ambulance or something,” Sansa's more sure by the moment that this man has had some sort of terrible accident.

“I am Jaehaerys,” he finally says. “But you may call me Jon.”

“Oof,” Arya winces. “Did your parents pick your name out of a history book? That's child cruelty, I'm pretty sure.”

“History book?” the man – Jon – asks.

“Like the ancient kings and stuff,” Rickon cuts in. “Right Sansa?”

All three turn to her, and Sansa's face still feels hot as she says, “well, yes. There were a few Jaehaerys'. The fourth Targaryen king, Jaehaerys the Wise, as well as the sixteenth Targaryen king. There's also Jaehaerys the Vanished, his story is actually fascinating, though often overlooked. A few others...” she trails off, watching Jon's face harden, his jaw go tight.

“Ancient,” he says. “These kings are ancient to you?”

He looks around once more, at the trees that grow around them, at her and Arya and Rickon, before turning to face the heart tree. “We are in Kings Landing,” he says, though she thinks it's supposed to be a question.

“Yes. In the godswood of the Red Keep Historical Museum...”

There is silence as he stands with his back to her, before he finally turns and asks, “and what year would it be?”

…...

“It's incredible!” Dr. Aemon shakes his head, feet shuffling around his office. “Absolutely incredible.”

Sansa stands back against the wall, watching in horror as the director of the RKHM examines the man she found in the godswood.

She'd sent Arya back to the hotel with Rickon, before going to Dr. Aemon, who had listened to the clearly insane man tell his ridiculous story.

He claims to actually be Jaehaerys the Vanished, the Targaryen bastard prince who disappeared into thin air one day. But those are just tales – tales of magic and red priestesses from Asshai and... and it's all nonsense. This man is clearly having a breakdown of some sort.

Except Dr. Aemon had listened to his story and then set about bandaging the man's wound and then he'd called a doctor friend of his – Samwell Tarly – to come in. Dr. Tarly is an actual doctor, and she watched him take the man's temperature, blood pressure, a vial of blood for testing.

The man himself, Jon, sits and watches it all in fascination. While Dr. Aemon and Dr. Tarly consult with each other in whispers, Sansa watches Jon pick up a stethoscope and frown at it, turning it about in his hands like he's trying to figure out what it is.

“You put it in your ears,” she says, and he looks up at her and her heart stutters inside her chest. “Like this,” she steps forward and gently takes it from his hands, then places the ear pieces into his ears. “It lets you hear things better.”

With that, she presses the stethoscope to his chest and watches his eyes go wide.

“That is my heart,” he says, listening intently, and she nods. Then she picks it up and places it over her own heart - which is a mistake, she decides, when his eyes meet hers and she swears her heart begins to pound furiously.

This close, she notices that he smells... odd. Not terrible, but like sweat and earth and... It takes her a few moments to realize that she can't smell any sort of perfumes on him. No hair product, no deodorant, not even a faint whiff of soap.

He's just homeless, she tells herself. Or he only uses scentless products. Or he injured himself and lost his memory and he's been wandering around for so long that any modern products have worn off. And somehow found an extremely authentic set of period-appropriate clothing and a very real, very sharp sword.

That was what had truly caught Dr. Aemon's attention. The sword. Not a replica, but matching the known swords from the Targaryen dynasty and clearly well-used, the grip molded to fit Jon's hand near-perfectly.

“You haven't asked about getting back,” she tells him, almost accusingly. “For a man who has just been taken from his home by a witch and sent a thousand years into the future.”

“I do not want to go back,” Jon says, meeting her eyes. She cannot look away from his level stare.

“Well,” Dr. Aemon says, and Sansa quickly drops the stethoscope from her frantic heart. “We should figure out what to do with you, I suppose.”

“You can't be serious,” she breathes, turning to look at her boss. No, not her boss. Her boss's boss's boss's boss.

Gods, she's going to be fired. What was she thinking, barging her way straight into the director's office?

“I'm very serious,” Dr. Aemon says, but he doesn't seem upset. “Tarly will run the bloodwork and I've got a contact in the police department who will run fingerprints and... well, I suppose we will see if this young man is telling the truth or not.”

He isn't! Sansa wants to shout. How are Dr. Aemon and Dr. Tarly taking this so seriously? This is madness - this man is not a lost Targaryen bastard prince. Magic doesn't exist. The story of Jaehaerys the Vanished is just that – a story.

“And I suppose a congratulations is in order,” Dr. Aemon says with a smile, turning to look at her. “Ms Stark, you are now head of the very new and very secret JT Project. A terrible name, but I have never been good at those. You can come up with your own if you'd like.”

“But-” she starts, the bottom dropping out of her stomach.

“Obviously no one can know about this project, except for the three of us in this room. And of course, the subject himself,” Dr. Aemon turns to look at Jon.

“This can't be happening,” she whispers to herself, feeling suddenly dizzy.

“I think, while we wait for the test results, a shower and a good meal is in order? Ms Stark, if you and Dr. Tarly could please take our subject to my home, and I must remind you to be discreet about it.” Dr. Aemon begins to write an address on a piece of paper, and Sansa takes it with shaking fingers.

Dr. Aemon makes a shooing motion at her, and Sansa can only nod.

“Follow her and Dr. Tarly, please, Jaehaerys.”

“Jon,” Jon says, mouth tipping down into a frown. He doesn't seem to like the other name very much.

Sansa leaves the room, heading towards the employee break room where she left her purse, and Jon follows, quickening his step to match hers, with Dr. Tarly trailing behind. She has no idea what to say. This cannot be happening.

“My lady,” Jon says, keeping stride next to her, and there's an easy, almost contented smile on his face “What is a shower?”

#jonsa #jonsa fic #cellsshapedlikeasks

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d2kvirus · 3 months

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26/1/24 Fact or Fiction

Statement #1: Bayley will win the 2024 women’s Royal Rumble. FACT - It makes perfect sense from a storyline standpoint to have Bayley vs Iyo at WM, and given the Rumble and MITB are effectively treated as ersatz titles these days it also fits to have Bayley get a clean sweep of all women's titles, Rumble and MITB

Statement #2: You spell battle royale with an “e”. FICTION - Only when talking about that Japanese film given that's, you know, the title and everything

Statement #3: There should be a Tag Team Royal Rumble match. FICTION - Mainly as it will be a logistical nightmare to a match where the only finish would be one babyface Ricky Mortoning their way through one or two heel tag teams in the final four

Statement #4: For Cody Rhodes to “finish the story” he must defeat Roman Reigns for the WWE Title in a WrestleMania main event. FACT - If he wins the title from Not Reigns that would be a consolation prize at best, and if he's not even in a title match at WM then he's a punchline for the remainder of his time there

Statement #5: You will consume alcohol while watching this year’s Royal Rumble match. FICTION - One time a few years back my local pub showed the Rumble live. Give the show started at 1am, and that was the 2013 Rumble where the booking went into full "Sod you, you're getting Rock vs Cena II" mode, it was not fun walking home at 4am with a few beers in me while being PO'd that the last two matches of the show were effectively Vince sticking his middle finger up at his audience. But he's stuck worse things in worse places, from what I hear...

Statement #6: Draymond Green has a WWE career waiting for him after he retires from the NBA. FICTION - Given he's a dead ringer for Ledley King, Tottenham will surely ask him if he can play centre back as that couldn't be worse than Eric Dier

Statement #7: You recognize The Big Show as the real winner of the 2000 Royal Rumble match. FACT - Because he did. At least Cena & Batista's botch managed to work out in such a way it was obvious the booking was telling the fans to ignore the evidence of their eyes and their ears

Statement #8: An “Even Greater” Royal Rumble with 60 entrants would be fun. FICTION - The 40-man Rumble was pretty bad, so adding 50% more entrants to that would be as terrible as me beginning this response and forgetting that one time they did a 50-man Rumble...

Statement #9: Jinder Mahal’s WWE championship run was underrated. FICTION - It wasn't even rated due to it being the booking equivalent of The Great Molasses Flood of 1919: slow, painful, and horrible to witness

Statement #10: Tony Khan’s tweets are fun. FICTION - While the whole "I can't support AEW as the owner is a bit cringe on Twitter" discourse is almost entirely performative garbage from garbage performers on forums and social media alike, Tony really needs somebody hovering over him to keep him from making the story about him instead of AEW

Statement #11: Santino Marella’s “I wasn’t ready!” elimination from 2009 Rumble match is the funniest moment in Royal Rumble history. FICTION - The ending of the 2005 Rumble is best for its unintended hilarity, not least due to Vince's comedic tumble as he realises he blew out both quads and having to sit there like a toddler giving instructions

Statement #12: You are more interested in what Nic Nemeth does post-WWE than Matt Riddle. FICTION - If Nemeth bet on himself when his contract was up in the mid-2010s I certainly would have been interested in what he had to offer, but after a decade of forgetting he was still employed at various points I'm far less interested, so Riddle wins by default

Statement #13: Here’s a good idea, a TLC Royal Rumble: entrants can be eliminated by going over the top OR by being put through a table, chairs are ladders are legal, and after all 30 entrants have entered then the remaining wrestlers are able to go after a WrestleMania main event contract hanging above the ring. FICTION - I'm sure that a table battle royal exists somewhere, but there's two obvious problems with using tables for eliminations: the table not breaking, or the table breaking when it's not supposed to. Either way, any stip involving something which can't follow booking instructions like tables, glass or Koji Kitao is destined to have a botched finish sooner or later

Statement #14: In pro-wrestling, a good punch is better than a good chop. FICTION - Not that I'm against a good worked punch, but what puts a chop over the top for me is the sound when somebody who can really lay them in, be it Gunther or Go Shiozaki or Pentagon Jr

Statement #15: In the next 20 years, someone will break Stone Cold Steve Austin’s record of 3 Royal Rumble match wins. FICTION - Most of the men on two wins have already retired so if they have (for the sake of argument) Cody winning four in a row it will be forced as hell just to create a record for the sake of creating a record - which is why I can't see them trying that with the women's Rumble, given that match is so young that it would look especially obvious if they have Bianca Belair or Rhea Ripley win it every other year to get her numbers up

Statement #16: Kazuchika Okada should go to the WWE. FICTION - Okada should go wherever he feels would be the best place for his career. That might be WWE, that might be AEW, that might be a company which isn't even in the conversation at the moment, but saying he "should" join one company or another is just like the worst part of football discourse for decades before social media became a thing and made it even more irritating

Statement #17: WCW’s three-ring World War 3 battle royale concept should be brought back. FICTION - The main issue with both WarGames and Blood & Guts is there's always the chance the camera misses something in the second ring as it's focusing on something in the first ring (or, in B&G's case, outside the ring or on top of the cage) so a third ring increases the chances of the production truck missing something

Statement #18: If The Rock wrestles at WrestleMania 40 it will NOT be his last match. FACT - Mainly because of the genuine concern that, if he does win at WM, it will be the second time in recent(ish) memory he's come back to end a lengthy title reign, meaning he has to stick around to drop the belt...right?

Statement #19: You prefer to watch actual wrestling over movies about wrestling, like The Iron Claw. FICTION - At no point when watching The Wrestler did the film cut to commercial mid-match, nor did I question Darren Aronofsky's booking decisions...until Noah, anyway, but the point I'm making...

Statement #20: Playing the Royal Rumble mode on the early ’90s WWF WrestleFest arcade game is history’s greatest wrestling video game experience. FICTION - As fun as the Wrestlefest Rumble was, the greatest wrestling game experience for me was borrowing someone's GameShark so I could actually use Jake Roberts in SDvsR 2006, as that was locked behind needing PS2 & PSP crossplay otherwise and I didn't know a single person with a PSP

Statement #21: If the top rope breaks during a battle royale, wrestlers should still be legally eliminated by being throw over the 2nd rope. FACT - Makes sense, as if the top rope breaks the middle rope becomes the top rope. Just don't ask if the top rope breaks on one side but not the other three, that's a headache waiting to happen

Statement #22: 2x Royal Rumble winner John Cena is the greatest wrestler of all time. FICTION - Mitsuharu Misawa is spinning in his urn

Statement #23: Here’s another good idea – a Reverse Royal Rumble: the match starts with all 30 entrants in the ring and every 2 minutes someone is randomly eliminated, but you can can be safe from the random countdown eliminations if you eliminate someone else first. FICTION - New rule for 411mania: anybody suggesting reverse battle royals must post photo ID to prove they aren't Vince Russo - and if they aren't, that makes it even worse

Statement #24: No one ever retires – the Undertaker will wrestle again. FICTION - Plenty of wrestlers retire for real, be it due to injuries which can't be rehabbed or because nobody noticed that they retired. More than anything else, though, since retiring Undertaker has removed the mystique he had for decades with his podcast appearances and so forth, and that genie isn't getting put back in the bottle

Statement #25: IMPACT Wrestling changing their name back to TNA will make you watch again. FICTION - It's not airing in the depths of Freeview in the UK anymore, which is why TNA had a surprisingly large following in the UK 15+ years ago, so unless there's some really good word of mouth that will send me to WatchWrestling I will likely not be actively looking to watch it

Statement #26: WWE should bring back the ECW brand again. FICTION - If there's any brand which WWE bought and then euthanised they should consider bringing back it's Evolve. No, wait, hear me out: the thing with Evolve is there's little to no emotional attachment or cultural cache attached to the brand as there is with ECW or ROH, so if they rebranded NXT LVL UP to Evolve it wouldn't hamstring the show before a second had aired, given the name is mainly associated with Gabe Sapolsky booking shows for DGUSA talent when the Dragon Gate wrestlers weren't available

Statement #27: You would be excited to see Shane McMahon as a surprise entrant in the Royal Rumble match this year. FICTION - I'd rather he was a surprise entrant in MITB or the Elimination Chamber, as that means we'd guarantee somebody taking an utterly ludicrous bump in matches which sort of require it

Statement #28: WWE already has too many international PLEs scheduled for this year. FICTION - Actually having PPVs for overseas crowds, and not the UK-only PPVs that WWE used to fob off their UK audience with which HHH always seemed to be "injured" for yet healthy to appear on Raw a couple of nights later, is something WWE needed to consider for the longest time. Remember, that's actual crowds, not Bonesaw McGraw's mates...

Statement #29: It’s sad that one year ago Sami Zayn was the hottest wrestler in the world, but now no one talks about him, he has no chance of winning the Royal Rumble or ever main event-ing a WrestleMania again. FACT - Especially considering that Sami did the impossible and made the Bloodline actually interesting and not JBL's Cabinet with Polynesian tattoos, and he deserved to be rewarded for that with the booking Jey Uso is currently getting

Statement #30: CM Punk will win the 2024 men’s Royal Rumble. FACT - Seems like the wisest call to make: if Rollins is healthy come WM, Punk vs Rollins will go ahead while Cody/Reigns is for all the marbles, but if Rollins isn't healthy there's a story for Punk/Reigns or potential for a Punk/Cody/Reigns three-way - so all Punk has to do is not break his foot doing a spot that makes no sense to wreck those booking plans, or lose his rag on a habitual basis to wreck literally everything around him

#fact or fiction #factorfiction #royal rumble #cm punk

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1ore · 2 years

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Now that I have internet i can spring this on you from the ask meme C:< (edited the wording on it for my own personal clarity LOL) 23. Introduce an OC that has changed a lot from your first draft of them

Oh man. Okay here's a long one because I’m going and going and going and g

Old Mora has the funniest visual development I think, just because she’s as old as Moribund itself is, and you can tell just how badly I struggle to nail down her design. I think I’ve finally gotten the challenging bits out of the way, but I need to draw her more to get everything else in order.

In Moribund, there’s this concept of the world being birthed and given motion by the interplay of two ur-beasts, an osprey and a snake. It’s not technically correct to say that Old Mora is the definitive osprey, but she rhymes with it, if that makes Any sense at all. So designing her is kind of like designing that in terms of “need to be getting it right”

In her earliest drafts (early ~2014 above) she looked a lot like the ur-snake, funny enough. The defining features of her face came to me all at once, like it should be impossible to tell which side is up and which is down, she should have a jowl window that doubles as an eye, a throat that doubles as an iris, streaming light-tears that are like threads in the eye of the needle, an arrow-shaped beak, etc. And I was really attached to this specific face for a long time, but the rest of her body wasn't coming to me.

like this is very cool but this is not my beautiful wife. (also 2014)

At some point, I went in the fucked up handbird direction, and I stayed there for a longo time too.

These wyvern-y ones are from 2014 as well. I remember the bottom one being kind of a bolt of inspiration re: uncanny feethands and winghands, but looking back she does just look like Smooth Lugia here.

2014/2015 was when Moribund started to find its way in terms of like, cohesive vision and feel of the world, (and also just me as a visual artist finding my way to drawing what I really liked to draw) and I think one of those growing pains was Mora moving from slippery handdragon to giant death bird.

Then I finally knocked the silly beak horns off her face.

Then in 2015 Iuhhhhhhh

violence magenta and indigo blue became morb (TM) blue-black and red. her beak is extremely funny here. you can tell i was struggling so bad, but I forgive her. I still like this piece.

she kind of middles around here for a while. She is pretty much quadruped for all of these; I experiment with making her handwings into seperately-motile coverts and primaries.

During this time I am so very concerned with wings and with the launching power of birds vs. pterosaurs and with figuring out a quadruped Mora.

Long story short: Birds can only get so big, because there’s a tradeoff between having more wing muscle and having more leg muscle. Your legs aren’t what you use to fly, so as they get bigger, they’re better for launching but heavier and more unwieldy while flying. If you get more wing muscle to compensate for carrying them, then that means you are now heavier and need more leg muscle to initially get you in the air. Eventually, you hit a ceiling where you either can’t launch, because you don’t have enough power out back, or you can’t fly, because the clap of your asscheeks keeps alerting the gravity. But pterosaurs can get Absolutely Ginormous because their wing muscles are also their launching muscles and AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

and then I get over it, because I like birds and mora looks cute but kind of dorky on all fours. (^ 2016)

(2018 ^) She’s allowed to get more organic over time. At some point I ditch the feethands completely, but I still choose to struggle with her beak teeth.

Oh, yeah. I forgot. that’s a design issue I had with her from day one. Drawing Mora from the front was a logistical nightmare because she’s so... shape (^ 2018)

I flirt with giving her perforated nostrils and making her more condor-like. (^2019)

doesn’t seem to stick. im still not giving up her beak teeth, but they’re still causing me problems. I want to go back and fix this piece actually, because it’s so recent but she looks sooooo dorky here. (^2021)

From here I think her most important additions are a.) extremely big feather boots and b.) moving the beak teeth up to her jowls. which fixes everything, for some reason

she's been one of those design journeys where a lot of the ideas were cool in isolation, but had to be abandoned because they just weren't serving the actual character that she is: a really big death bird who is also, like, just a woman.

now i just have to make good on drawing her more. and not at two in the morning. waw.

#THANK YOU REED!!!#now if youre asking about which character changed in writing the most over time thats a very different question #for lore who is not awake at two in the morning #i think ill do that aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa tomorrow #uncaptioned images tag #sorry about that i have no brainmeat left #Tomorrow. tomorrow.#mora tag

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bluegarners · 2 years

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What was your favorite scene so far in ‘a storge for you’?

hiya, paladin!! <33333

hm, favorite scene? not completely sure, but one scene that i love and would not change (except maybe replace a few words here and there) is in chapter three, when dick and duke kind of have that one-sided conversation about their relationship

idk why it sticks out to me, but, for me, it really solidified dick's descent from his usual composure. i don't know if anyone is really keeping track of the timelines (i wouldn't blame anyone if not- the story jumps around a lot and it's a lot to keep track of) but the night dick calls duke over to watch him for the concussion is the same night he battled against william cobb. understandably, dick is shaken by their encounter, and although a majority of that last chapter was in cobb's pov, dick understands pretty quickly that his fight against cobb wasn't just a one-off thing. he realizes that, not only is he being targeted for murder/kidnap, he's been tracked for a while and has been watched long enough for them to figure out his routine. now, dick has no idea they actually know his identity at that point, but dick can assume as much without direct confirmation. being injured and overwhelmed with the knowledge that he's in danger and, thereby, may have also put his family in danger, dick needed someone that night in order to cope with all this information

now, i never explicitly wrote the logistics behind dick's choice in asking duke to come over, but it was heavily implied by dick that he only asked duke to help him out because, well, 1) they aren't that close, so duke wouldn't be totally shocked and/or disappointed (dick hopes at least and states as much), but 2) because he and duke aren't that close, and thereby don't interact as much, whoever has been stalking him likely doesn't have a lot of information about duke and his abilities, meaning that, should dick be attacked again, having backup in the form of an unknown by his stalker's standards would be a massive aid. dick is already injured and mentally overwhelmed, so having the comfort of another person near him, one who is capable of defending themselves and also taking the enemy by surprise, is immensely relieving

it's a favorite scene of mine for reasons like that, and also i just really find it interesting how dick and duke interact. they haven't much in actual canon, so it's a bit of a process to figure out how they might operate around one another in this kind of scenario, but i'm pleased with how each of them dealt with it. duke is also a bit overwhelmed, but also doesn't want to let down dick by admitting he is disappointed and also worried, so he just accepts dick's confession and tells him to get some rest without really acknowledging any of it or pursuing it further. dick feels so freaking guilty throughout their entire interaction and although he's known for flying solo when he's at his lowest, him reaching out multiplies his need for comfort and guilt tenfold. there's just soooo much going on in chapter three, so much that dick reveals but the family doesn't really pick up on well because of already set expectations they have for him when they interact, and the whole thing just kind of rots my brain since there's so much going on behind the scenes that everyone else isn't privy to

#paladin of nerd fandom65 #a storge for you #ask #to make a long answer short: duke and dick's conversation in chapter three #dick grayson #duke thomas

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ranaiki · 2 years

Text

Split Apart | Chapter 9 - Route Less Traveled

wc: 3.3k

warnings: descriptions of death/dead bodies, gorey kinda, mild swearing, mentions of a weapon but no weapon use. Heavily implied death at the end, nothing descriptive that comes in the next chapter. Kinda harassment by Atsumu?

a/n: ayo nobody ever told me writing a series would be this hard. Consistency? Keeping track of plot points? Making sure it stays interesting? Whos she? Anyways I hope this chapter isn’t too terrible. I’m doing my best... Also I wanted to mention here that Atsumu is kinda like annoying and seems like a douche but... we have plans for him. Promise. Also his behavior with reader is purely for comedic effect/relief from the heavier tones. It’s implied that reader has never told him to stop explicitly (and if she did, he would). Wanted to make that clear since his behavior this chapter is definitely leaning into more of a grey area.

s.masterlist | prev | next

“Ya mean to tell me we’re leaving again?”

Leave it to Atsumu to complain the second he hears a plan he doesn’t completely agree with. Scratch that, the second he even woke up.

“We’re tryin’ ta get to Hokkaido as soon as possible. There’s no time to dilly dally.” Kita explained, leaning up against the back wall of the damaged house, staring across the room at the huddle of Inarizaki boys, all of them groggy and seeking warmth from the others.

You sat near his side, watching quietly as Kita assembled the group, and explained to them the logistics of the plan you had made together the night before.

The wood was cold against your rear, seeping through the insulation of your yoga pants, the black fabric stained with patches of dust.

In your hand was an empty bag of chips and package of natto. The remnants of your halfhearted breakfast.

“It’s barely even light out yet!” He grumbled, rubbing at his face to press away the sleepy numbness that had settled over the course of the night. “We couldnt’a waited even a bit longer?”

“Once we get to Otsu, we’ll spend an extra day resting, okay?” Kita promised, doing his best to placate an increasingly rowdy Atsumu.

“Unless you wanna turn into a popsicle by the time we get to Hokkaido, I’d suggest you stop complaining, Miya.” You grumbled, leaning your back up against the fragmented wall. “If we wait too much longer, we’ll have to deal with winter on top of everything.”

“She has a point, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu said, turning towards his brother.

“Of course ya’d side with her!” Atsumu snapped, glowering at his twin. Osamu didn’t respond, impassive and unamused. “But fine. We can leave.”

Akagi chuckled from the side. “Don’t think it was up to you anyways.” He said around a mouthful, stuffing the last of his chips into his mouth.

You snorted in amusement at the scandalized look that befell Atsumu’s face.

“The walk shouldn’t be too difficult.” With his words, the attention drifted from your side of the room to the opposite, where Kai had just entered from an adjacent hallway. He stood alongside Chisaki and the other Kyoto locals that were going to be tagging along. “It’s mostly flat, and should be pretty open in comparison to the city streets.”

“Thank ya again for comin’ with us.” Kita had left his perch against the wall, approaching Kai with a friendly smile and nod. Kai only waved him off unceremoniously.

“It’s no problem, really. We’re all ready to go, looks like you guys need a few more minutes though?”

Kita glanced over his shoulder where the Inarizaki members stood, observing their states of being. Everyone was slumped with their bags nearby, some of them distracted by their breakfasts or by conversations happening under hushed tones.

“No...” Kita said, letting out a long, weary breath as he spoke, his expression remaining blasé. “That’s about as ready as they can manage.”

“Huh... alright then.”

“C’mon guys!” Kita shouted, dragging the wandering attention back towards the front and the task at hand. “Remember to stick with a buddy at all times. Doesn’t matter who.”

You pushed yourself from the floor, hands swiping down the front of your pants, adding another streak of unseemly white as the dust they picked up moved from your palms to the dark fabric. “Hey Samu, you wanna-” you paused, sentence interrupted by a harsh gaze boring into you, green eyes narrowed in your direction.

Suna had already attached himself to Osamu’s side, a long arm swung over his shoulders, hanging off of it possessively. Osamu turned his head, peering back at you with an apologetic expression on his face.

“Gee, sorry Y/n.” He said, pointedly ignoring the way Suna was glaring at you, ready to tear you up if you even tried to take Osamu away from him again. “I already promised Rin I’d walk with him. Don’t think its fair for him ta be stuck with Tsumu twice in a row...”

“Oh! That’s okay.” You smiled and waved him off. “I’ll find someone else to walk with.” It didn’t bother you, really, but you could still see the guilt dripping from Osamu’s gaze. You shifted your attention towards Suna, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. “I wouldn’t wanna be stuck with the other Miya either.”

“Oh, Y/n! Y/n!” Speak of the devil. You flinched, warily glancing over your shoulder in search of the culprit. Atsumu was pushing his way through the group of boys towards you, stumbling over his and others’ feet rather clumsily. “I’ll walk with ya!”

You stiffened, whipping your head back around and walking briskly in the opposite direction.

Is it too much to hope he didn’t notice I heard him...?

“Wait, Y/n! I know ya can hear me, just wait!”

“Not happening, Miya!” You ducked behind Akagi, listening to the blond’s heavy footfalls as he raced after you.

“What? Why?” Atsumu had crouched down, peering beneath Akagi’s arm to look you in the face as you scrambled away.

“In what world would I willingly spend time with you?”

“Aw c’mon, I promise ya it’ll be fun! I’ll make it worth your while.”

You froze in your tracks.

Atsumu had straightened again, standing back with his hands folded over his stomach, that stupid, insolent smirk on his stupid face. If the change in his tone hadn’t been enough, that certainly was, and he topped it off with a wink.

Your mouth pressed into a thin line as you too straightened out, not taking your eyes off of him, though saying nothing, and doing nothing.

“I knew ya’d listen ta reason.” You had to physically restrain yourself from cringing at the purr in his voice, a triumphant look on his face that was entirely unbidden. “Come take a spin on the Atsumu train.”

You baulked. Without missing a beat, you turned your head to the side, shoving a finger into your open mouth and mimicking a rather intense rendition of vomiting, gagging obscenely to get the message across.

“Bleh!” You rolled your eyes, nose scrunched in disgust at the smug expression still plastered on his face. “How could you possibly manage to be more gross Miya?”

Atsumu’s expression faltered, giving way to his true emotions for little more than a heartbeat. “Ya don’t even have a partner anyways,” He said with a heavy sigh. “M’sorry, could ya just walk with me? And stop calling me Miya! It’s weird.”

“I do have a buddy.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Miya.”

“Hey!” He puffed his chest up irritably. “Ya don’t have a partner, stop lyin’. And can’t I have a nickname? Ya just called Samu by his. I have one too, ya know! We’re twins. Package deal, package name.”

“Don’t lump me in with you!” Osamu’s voice rose from somewhere in the group of boys, earning snickers from all around you.

You turned on your heels, rushing past Aran and Ginjima and making a beeline for the front of the room.

“Y/n!” Atsumu took off after you, hot on your tail as you cut through the crowd of onlookers, and latched yourself onto the arm of an unsuspecting Kita Shinsuke.

Atsumu skidded to a halt just in front of you, eyes wide as he watched you wrap your hands around the captain’s bicep, hugging him close to your chest. Kita didn’t flinch even as you squeezed him tight and yanked him towards you, merely watching on with mild shock.

“Told ya I have a partner.” You said, sticking out your tongue at him childishly.

“Kita-san doesn’t count!” Atsumu groaned, though he remained rooted in his spot, fearful of approaching with Kita right at your side. He was scary on his own, even scarier when it came to things involving you.

“Does too, Nasty-tsumu!” You said, skirting around Kita’s side so you were half hidden behind his bulky frame.

It was quiet for a moment, before you felt the man beneath your grasp jerk suddenly. You glanced up to see him hiding his face, coughing into his fist to stifle a laugh.

Atsumu seemed less amused, pouting at the nickname and Kita’s reaction to it. “Nasty-tsumu?!”

“What, don’t like that one?” You asked, basking in the warm glow of Kita’s soft giggles. “How about Grody-tsumu? Shitty-tsumu?”

It was your turn to wear a smug smile, as you heard the strangled coughs and poorly concealed laughter rise up from the rest of the Inarizaki members.

“Hey! Guys??” Atsumu whirled around to face his friends and brother, all of them snickering behind their hands.

“Seems like ya earned this one, Nasty-tsumu.” Osamu chirped from his spot, snickering at his brother’s new nickname.

“Hey-”

“Sorry, sorry.” It was Ginjima who spoke up, a grin on his face as he approached Atsumu, slapping a hand onto his shoulder. “We didn’t mean ta laugh. I’ll walk with ya... Shitty-tsumu.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Kita hummed, the sound jittery with the giggles still making their way through him. “Let’s head out before it gets too late.”

You let go of his arm promptly, settling at a comfortable pace at his side instead as the group left the safety of the abandoned house, stepping outside and into the dingy light for the first time since the day before.

There was the distinct scent of petrichor in the air - it must have rained overnight.

“Sorry about grabbing onto you like that.” You said with a sheepish smile, but Kita only shrugged his shoulders, eyes glittering as he glanced down at you.

“I don’t mind..”

With 7 inarizaki members in tow, plus the 5 kyoto members, the troupe started making their way down the streets of the Kyoto prefecture, heavy grey clouds hanging from above.

It was a little rocky at first, while making your way from the suburbs to the rural highways. Streets littered in debris made it difficult to effectively maneuver so many people. Within the first hour, however, route 9 was well in sights.

You hadn’t accounted for the sheer amount of cars littering the highway. They were much easier to get around than the piles of burned wood and stone you had grown accustomed to. There was always a path cutting past pileups consisting of several cars, many crunched into each other and against the stone barrier along the edge of the highway. Only a few vehicles remained untouched in the middle of the road, abandoned, with doors thrown wide open and the keys still in the ignition. The rest of the cars had careened off the sides of the road, smashed into the outlying trees and bushes, flipped upside down with parts sprawled across grass.

There wasn’t a single soul in sight. You glanced around as you walked, feet crushing already broken glass into smaller pieces, a chunk of a bumper skittering away from your foot as you accidentally kicked it, disturbing the stillness of the surrounding area.

“I wonder where they all went to...” It was Kita who spoke up, his eyes trained on one of the cars that had flipped, the door opened just a crack and covered in blood. You could only imagine what had happened there.

“I’ve no idea-” You wandered off from Kita’s side as you spoke, drawing closer to one of the pileups you were passing by.

“Y/n, wait-” Kita called, reaching out for you.

You stepped around one of the cars, avoiding the engine that had fallen from it during the collision, and peered through the window.

The sight you saw had bile rushing up your throat, a queasy feeling taking hold of your insides, wrenching and twisting them. You slapped a hand over your mouth to hold in the terrified squeal, and the breakfast you had eaten just hours before.

The people in the car were still there.

They were covered in cuts and scrapes, bodies crushed against the seats to the point of immobility. Though you supposed it didn’t matter anyways, seeing as they were no longer alive.

But all of that was hard to see past the jarring blue-ish purple tinge that had taken hold of their skin, leaving it blotched and messy, accented by thick black lines of blood leaking from every hole and gash, smothering their faces and fronts.

They were hardly recognizable as human.

You stumbled back, holding your breath, pinching your nose shut, unable to tear your eyes away from the gruesome scene.

Warm hands wrapped around your waist, before they tugged you in the opposite direction. Only that was able to break the sickening trance that had taken hold over you.

You shuddered in Kita’s hold as he dragged you away from the crash, tucking your head down and against his chest, so that you wouldn’t have to see anything similar in the nearby vehicles.

“Nobody look into these cars!” He yelled out, the group responding to the urgency lacing his voice, and the curious few backing away from the separate cars they had been approaching. “Are you okay?” His voice was much softer now, quieter, as he looked down at your figure.

You were green in the face, struggling to hold back the sickness in your stomach. “’M fine..” You mumbled, a dazed expression on your face. “Let’s just go.”

You continued down the highway, keeping your gaze on nothing but the dirty pavement and painted white lines. Kita never left your side, his fingers brushing against the small of your back every once in a while as he gently guided you along.

You hardly payed attention, the words he exchanged with Kai and the other members of the group nothing more than mumbling as you walked.

The path went on for hours.

You couldn’t get the image of that couple out of your head, their gruesome demise flashing in your minds eye every time you caught a glimpse of a car bumper, or the faintest whiff of decomposing bodies on the breeze.

It was almost relieving when you finally saw a city rising up in the distance, drawing closer and closer with every step you took.

“There’s Kyoto.” Kai breathed, pausing next to Kita as the group approached the edge of the city. Almost none of the buildings remained intact - what was once a proud skyline completely leveled.

There was a distinct lack of buildings down a section of the city three lanes wide. A crack on the other half of the highway started near the edge of the city, running into the populated area and growing wider and wider as it went. The road was split into two, pavement slipping in, buildings leaning precariously over the edge of the chasm, easily toppled by the added weight of a single rock. Those buildings that had been lucky enough to not get caught in the opening were crumbled, and those that hadn’t been so lucky? Well, you couldn’t see very far down, but you were sure if you took a peek, you could see piles of rubble and stone at the bottom, maybe a sign or two, hundreds of meters below your feet.

“I can’t believe this...” You muttered, venturing just a little further into the city’s borders, Kita sticking close to your side. “This is even worse than I imagined.”

“Let’s get going.” Kita’s voice was low as he spoke, warily looking around the area. “We don’t know what’s in here. It’s best we get through as quickly as possible.”

“I second that.” Ginjima said, shuddering as the group stepped further into the decimated city. “I feel like I’m being watched.”

“It’s entirely possible that we are.” Kai said, pulling his weapon from the pocket of his bag. “Keep your eyes peeled.”

It wasn’t as easy to make progress as it had been on the open highway. Toppled buildings created huge barricades impossible to climb over, and there were several crevasses opened in the street, though none as big as the one you had seen near the outskirts.

The path became much less straightforward than had been planned on the map.

The group was dodging into side streets to avoid hazards, rounding blind corners in complete silence, ears and eyes peeled for the faintest of movements and sounds.

But nothing happened.

Even as you crawled your way through the city, drawing nearer and nearer the opposite side of Kyoto, closer towards Otsu, you didn’t see a single person, nor a single disturbance.

The feeling of being watched never left, gazes prickling into your back no matter which alley you turned down, or how many buildings you dodged behind.

But still you didn’t see anyone.

Whoever was out there was only observing the group from afar. You couldn’t feel any malicious intent, and they had yet to do anything - they were simply watching those who passed through their territory.

It didn’t make the hair on the back of your neck prickle any less.

It was only as you began to approach the edge of Kyoto, only a little less than an hour away from Otsu, did you finally begin to relax a little, more capable of ignoring the burning sensation at the back of your skull, and the eerie sense of doom surrounding you.

You made it through the city without incident.

Your theories had been correct, your plan had worked. Everyone had made it through safe and sound.

“I can’t believe it.” You breathed as the buildings and rubble began to thin, making way to the suburbs and outskirts, broken down shrines lining the path. “That seemed almost too easy.”

“Let’s take a win where we can get one.” Kita said, laughing a little. You could hear the relief behind his breathless giggles, pent up nervousness finally released.

The sun glinted, hanging low in the sky, just beneath the canopy of rainclouds. It was getting late. The shadows that had been nonexistent loomed a little further, stretching down the length of the block.

“Seems you didn’t need us after all.” Kai said with a smile, Chisaki tagging along at his heel as they walked alongside both you and Kita.

“I guess not. Sorry to make ya come all this way.”

“It’s alright Kita-san.” Kai said, adjusting the strap of his bag to rest more comfortably against his skin. “We’ll use this opportunity to load up on supplies we can’t get in Nantan. Can you guys make it to Otsu on your own from here?”

The group stopped walking, allowing the inarizaki members to gather close to Kita. As the pair spoke, the Kyoto locals trailed off, making their way towards a drugstore on the opposite side of the street - Chisaki leading the crew.

“I think we’ll manage.” Kita said, returning the smile Kai offered him. “Is this where we part ways, then?”

“Seems like it.” Kai held out his hand once more, grabbing Kita’s firmly in his grasp. “Don’t forget to send those rescuers our way once you make it out of here.”

“How could I forget that?” Kita grinned, his fingers squeezing tight. “Stay out of trouble.”

“No can do!” Kai said, releasing Kita from his hold and jogging off after his group members. “It’s in my blood!”

You watched with a smile as he joined Chisaki at the entry to the drugstore, discreetly pressing a kiss against the crown of her head before letting her go inside.

He turned just before disappearing into the semidarkness of the store, waving one last goodbye to you and the rest of the group. You waved enthusiastically after him, joined in your ministrations by most of the others.

“Thank yo-” A loud crack drowned out the rest of your words.

You blinked, looking around for the source of the deafening sound, but everything was still.

Another loud crack boomed through the deserted streets.

You watched in horror as the building across the way crumbled, collapsing in on itself, and burying everything, and everyone, beneath piles of cement rubble.

Taglist:

@sadcrxissant @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @deathfreak45 @kotarousproperty @ochakosprettybunny @bebetiny @itsmeaudrieee @pressuredtreasure @alatuskaleidos @ketterdam-kunoichi @cherrybeomgyu

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(side note for those I just added - IM SO SORRY I DIDN’T SEE UR REQUESTS TILL JUST NOW FORGIVE ME)

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu #inarizaki #inarizaki fic #inarizaki x reader #apocalypse au #inarizaki apocalypse #kita x reader #osamu x reader #suna x reader #aran x reader #ginjima x reader #oomimi x reader #akagi x reader #atsumu x reader #fanfiction

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