#you've already taken the first step in recognizing that where you are

[ddejavvu]

I’d love to see a jake seresin x secret wife au. The dagger squad doesn’t realize he’s married until Phoenix invites reader out to the bar with them! Thanks you’re the best!!

You're reminded just how little you know Natasha when she invites you out for drinks, and you end up at the bar adjacent to the naval base. You've been inside only once with Jake before, when you were still dating and he was going through training at top gun. Now he's a graduate, and the place brings back fond memories. You've chatted, of course, when she stops by for breakfast at the bakery you work for, but you've never discussed her career before.

"Hope you don't mind we're close to base," She grins, "My friends wanted to meet here, and I get free drinks 'cause the bartender likes me. They have this bell system to embarrass all the assholes here, and I think I ring it more than she does."

"I've been here before," You admit, tentatively grabbing her arm as she weaves through the crowd, "My husband and I came here once, a long time ago. I don't think the bartender was a woman, though."

"She just bought the place a few years ago," Natasha nods, sliding onto a stool at the bar, "Careful, don't put your phone on the bar."

You tuck the device safely away in your pocket as a brunette woman turns to you, a sweet smile on her face as she recognizes Natasha.

"Hey, Phe," She hums, and you don't have time to ask what the nickname means, "Brought a friend?"

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, noting that they seem like close friends, "It's nice to meet you. I'm Penny."

You nod and beam at her when she offers you an identical bottle of beer to the one Natasha takes. You decline, though, ordering your usual instead. Jake's out with his friends tonight, but he's pledged to be a responsible drinker in case you need to be picked up from your girls' night.

"Can I get, uh," Natasha peers through the crowd, turning back when you assume she's found her target, "Five more?"

"Fanboy's got one already," Penny hums, taking four chilled bottles from beneath the counter, "You want help carrying them?"

"We're good!" You wrap one hand around two bottles, trusting Natasha to lead you towards her friends in the hectic crowd. You don't remember it being this busy when you'd come with Jake, maybe the new management really helped.

She treks you all the way over to a pool table along the wall, where a few men in jeans and t-shirts are huddled. You're taken by surprise, though you're not sure why. You'd automatically assumed her friends would be women, and you wonder if that's concerning. Possible internal bias aside, you smile at the men who stand to greet you.

"Hello," You wave, handing off beers to the two that meet you first,"I'm Y/N, you're Natasha's friends?"

"We are," A tall man grins, holding a hand out for you to shake now that it's not wrangling beers, "I'm Reuben. But you can call me Payback, if you want."

Natasha still has one of the beers in her hands, and you hear the man beside her, who she greets as Fanboy, mention something about the bathroom. Apparently you still have someone to meet.

You refocus on Reuben, "Payback," You tilt your head slightly to the side, "Is that a callsign? Are you a pilot?"

"We all are," The man who'd taken the other beer from you nods along with Payback, a burnt red mustache on his lip, "Natasha's is Phoenix. And I'm Rooster."

Your stomach drops.

"Wait, uh- Rooster? And- and Phoenix, and Payback," Your head spins slightly with recollections of Jake's crazy work stories, and you take a step back, "Are you- you're all stationed to this base?"

"Temporarily," Rooster frowns, "Hey, are you okay?"

"My husband-" You don't get the words out before he emerges from the bathroom, stopping dead in his tracks with a furrow in his brow that wrinkles his forehead.

"Darlin'?" He calls, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

"Jake?" You're equally incredulous, "I- these are the friends you're going out with?"

"Yeah, I-" He wanders closer, still at a general loss for words, "You know Phoenix?"

"Natasha gets breakfast at the bakery," You breathe, now that he's close enough to hear your dumbfounded murmur. You have an audience, but you don't care, not as Jake's confused expression melts into a sheepish smile.

"Well, small world. You look stunning tonight, honey."

"Thanks," You grin bashfully, keeping one hand on your drink and using the other to cup his cheek, tugging him down into a quick kiss. No matter how chaste it is, it gets a reaction.

"Oh," Fanboy gawps, "You're- her husband? You- Hangman, dude, you're married?"

"I am," Jake hums, ringing an arm around your waist and taking the beer from Natasha that she's too shock-stricken to hand to him. He pops the cap off on the edge of the pool table, bringing the fizzing mouth to his lips for a swig. He swallows, "Six years and counting."

"You're married to Hangman," Natasha- er, Phoenix repeats, "You married him?"

"Uh, I did," You laugh, twisting the ring on your finger.

"He never wears a ring," Rooster narrows his eyes at Jake accusatorily, "What, you're keeping her hidden away or something?"

"No," Jake scoffs, "It kept getting dirty when I was doing maintenance on my jet. I keep it on my dog tags, Bradshaw."

He brandishes the chain with both his ID and wedding band on it, and Rooster takes a swig of beer in response.

"How the hell was I supposed to know that, man? I don't stare at your chest in the locker room."

"Well you're missin' out," Jake drawls, turning to grin at you, "Ain't that right, honey?"

"Jake," You hiss, "Not here!'

"Oh, don't get all fussy. Most of these guys have seen my dick," He waves a dismissive hand in the air, nearly spilling his beer. You swear you hear someone mumble, 'unfortunately', but Jake drowns them out, "They don't care if we flirt. Hey, whaddya say we sharpen up those pool skills of yours?"

"Alright," You nod, letting him lead you over to the table, "Natasha, can you hold my drink?"

She takes it like it's her duty to protect you, even though your big strong husband has just bent you over the pool table. It takes you a few tries to be able to hit the ball at all with your clumsy grip on the cue, but when it finally cascades the colorful targets around the table, Jake whoops, landing a congratulatory smack to your ass that his friends groan at.

"Nice goin', darlin'. Gonna beat Bradshaw into the ground in no time."

[changetyre]

Not like this II Charles Leclerc x Reader (Mafia AU)

SUMMARY: After losing everything you seek out your biggest and longest-standing enemy to finish it all.

WARNING: Violence, blood, mentions of death

A/N: I've always wanted to write a Mafia imagine and I've had this idea in the drafts for like 2 years now and finally decided to write it out so here it is ;)

Thud.

Charles's eyes snapped open at the loud noise originating from his living room. His hand immediately clasped the gun that rested under his pillow as he listened out for anything else.

The shuffling that followed was enough to have him getting out of bed silently as he made his way around his bedroom.

He could hear someone grunting. He opened his door, darkness enveloped the living room the only light being from the large windows which surrounded it.

"For fuck's sake." He heard someone whisper and he thought he recognized the voice but it simply couldn't be right?

He walked further into the living room, seeing someone's feet disappear behind the coffee table. He silently took more steps toward whoever was there.

"Before you kill me could you at least get me a drink? Anything with Whiskey will do." Charles heard as you spoke breathless from your spot on the floor.

He finally closed the distance standing by your feet in fact confirming it was you. His gun still pointed right at your head.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Charles asked annoyed.

"Ugh." you sighed. "Long story but your guards are really sh*t you know, killed them both in no time." You laughed, being stopped by a painful grunt.

Charles turned on the lamp on the table by the end of the couch providing enough light for him to see the trail of blood you'd left along with the pool of blood forming on his white carpet.

"You're ruining my carpet." Charles scoffed putting his gun away.

"Least I could do before letting you kill me." You shrugged, your breathing only getting heavier.

"What do you mean letting me kill you?" Charles asked as he moved away and around his apartment. You weren't able to see what he was doing from your spot on the floor where you'd decided to rest.

"We got attacked...idk who they are but- Fuck-" You grunted in pain again after moving slightly. "They are powerful Charles, they killed us ...every single one of us."

"Not you." Charles spoke from afar.

"Basically did." You laughed which you soon regretted with the pain it brought you. The gunshot to your stomach kept spurting blood despite you pressing hard on it.

"So why did you come here apart from dirtying my place?" Charles asked again, you could hear him opening and closing cupboards.

"Well you know...figured this ongoing battle we had going on, to see who would kill who first...Well, I'm gonna die anyway so I might as well let you win." You shuffled so your back rested on the couch and you could sit up slightly not caring one bit about covering the white couch with your blood.

Charles came back into view holding a bottle of whiskey, along with tongs, bandages, and a suture kit.

"Not my fucking couch!" Charles yelled annoyed.

"What's that for?" You asked but Charles didn't bother answering before he ripped your shirt from the side effortlessly allowing him to see your wound.

"Won't even invite me a drink first?" You joked, but your humor was short-lived as Charles pushed your hand away pouring the liquid over it.

"FU-" your voice was muffled as Charles put a rag on your mouth letting you bite down on it.

Charles didn't waste time as he disinfected the tools before sticking them in your wound looking for the bullet.

You writhed around in pain and despite this not being the first bullet you've taken somehow this one felt more painful.

"Stay Still." Charles demanded making you roll your eyes at him.

After what felt like forever he finally took the bullet out showing it to you before throwing it on the already bloodied carpet.

"I hate you." You spit the ragout and panted as you tried to steady your breath.

"Shut up." Charles's focus stayed on your body as he began sowing your wound shut.

"Why are you even doing this?" You asked.

Charles didn't answer you and you wondered what he was thinking about.

"Shit-" You hissed at the pain from the needle and thread going through you.

"Done." he avoided your eyes as he got up gathering everything up with him and moving away again.

"Charles-" you called out.

You still didn't have the strength to get up and go after him but a few seconds later Charles came back with water and a pill.

"Take this." He placed them both on the table in front of you before turning to walk away again.

"Charles answer me." You said more firmly this time.

He stopped in his tracks before turning around to face you. "If I'm gonna kill you...it'll be after a fair fight." He answered.

"Charles I have nothing left." You said, this time not caring how weak your voice sounded or the way your eyes watered in front of him. "Didn't you hear me? They killed all of my people." it pained you, truly did to think of all of the loyal men and women that were gone in a single night. "They think I'm dead too so just finish the job...please" you begged, something you'd never done before.

Charles didn't speak for a few seconds, avoiding your eyes again. "Drink that. I'll get the guest room ready since I can't ask my men to do it."

[cheriladycl01]

Meet the Parents - Zhou Guanyu x JamaicanOlympicSwimming! Reader

Plot: Zhou wants to go on holiday to spend time with you, he’s never met your parents so of course a Caribbean holiday back to your home where your treated like a queen is the only correct decision!

"I'm very nervous ..." Zhou had told you on the plane ride over. You'd been pampering yourselves using up all the first class things available.

"You don't have to be my love! They'll love you and Jamaica is so welcoming! You'll love it!" you smiled at him as you helped him put the charcoal facemask on that you'd brought in duty free.

You spent the rest of the flight chilling and drinking champagne. And trying to prep Zhou for not only meeting your family but the pure weight of travelling with you around your country.

You were the first Jamaican Gold Medalist in Swimming so in a lot of peoples eyes you were up there with the likes of Usain Bolt. Your face was everywhere ... on local drink, in random village bars and people would be able to recognize you straight away.

Zhou was familiar with the fans and the pressure of being an athlete in the eye of the media, so he was expecting something familiar to his home crowd when he raced in Shanghai for the first time. But boy was he wrong.

You were treated like royalty, like a princess. The minute you stepped of the plane at Sangster Airport you were flooded with locals coming up and offering you Mango, Bananas or Rum. Paper was shoved towards you at many different angles and you were just laughing giving out hugs and kissing cheeks until airport security came running up to you and Zhou apologizing for being delayed.

You guys were taken to your childhood home which was right on the beach, there was a pool and you'd driven past an old beach bar that you used to sneak to during school.

"Mami!" you cried seeing her out on the porch to your home.

"My beautiful girl! Come here!" she cries and pulls you into a hug as Zhou carefully steps out the car pulling out all your cases and thanking the driver.

"Ahhh! Is this my handsome son!" you mother cries seeing Zhou and you nod with a massive smile on your face. She'd been dying to meet him for a while.

"Come here!" she says and Zhou waddles forward being pulled into the woman as he wraps his arms around her.

"Dad!" you grinned as your father came jogging from round the back of the house where the pool and garden was.

"Baby!" he cries picking you up and spinning you round.

"Oh my gosh you are more beautiful than the last time i saw you" he says as you land back on the ground and he looks over you before pinching you cheek lightly.

"Oh dad, this is ..." you start but your dad is already walking over.

"Zhou! Amazing to meet you son. How was the flight over? Not too long i hope!" he asks slapping his shoulder lightly making Zhou chuckle.

"Erm, yes. I'm used to all the travel. But Y/N actually showed me the face masks she always uses so my skin, not as dry" he rambles a little on edge and your dad can immediately tell.

"Zhou, no need to be anxious you are family now!" he grins pulling him into another hug.

"Well, we'll take your bags in, why don't you show him round the house and then we can all go to the bar! You've got some people who want to see you!" you mum smiles pulling your dad back towards the cases.

"Thanks mami!" you grin kissing her cheek while your dad winks picking up the first few cases.

"Are you sure you don't want any help?" Zhou asks kindly making your mum and dad laugh and push him further into the entrance.

Your immediately welcomed by a wooden and beach living room, doors opening straight to the back garden where there are palm trees and wooden planks going to a crystal blue pool.

But Zhou's eyes are held on the trophy cabinet to the left.

"Are these all your awards?" he asks looking over them. There were tons as your parents refused to bin anything you won. Even when it was something you won when you were 4 years old.

Both of you Olympic medals were there for swimming. One Bronze, One Gold.

There were other national and international competition trophies from recent years in between the Olympics to support the vast amount of awards in the case.

"You are really special!" he smiles looking over everything and you lightly blush looking down.

"Thank you, you want to see where i learnt how to swim?" you ask looking over him, wanting to show him the white sandy beach awaiting.

"Of course!" he smiles and you take his hand in yours as you walk him down the wooden steps of the deck to the pool.

"I learnt in this pool and trained a lot in here when i wasn't old enough to go in the public pool ... but come with me! I think this is the coolest place you'll ever see" you grin and he nods following you down a cobblestone pathway that met sand.

The sight of a pure white beach following crystal blue waters met his eye and he was in awe.

"This is where i spent a lot of time as a kid. Swimming was a part of me..." you smile and Zhou cannot stop looking at you, he loved the raw passion on your face.

"You are glowing here..." he smiles and you just look over him confused as you sit down in the sand listening to the sound of the waves.

"I could get used to this" he says as he fully reclines relaxing all the season stresses off him.

"I love you Zhou..." you smile rolling onto your side and kissing his cheek.

y/user

Liked by zhouguanyu24 and others

y/user: Going back home is always an incredible feeling, first time my boy met my parents and got to see where i learnt how to swim. China next month!

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zhouguanyu24: Thank you for showing me everything so beautiful here. I cannot wait to show you around Shanghai

fan1: Zhou met the parents! I repeat Zhou met the parents.

fan2: they are literally so cute!

Instagram Story Caption:

Back in the homeland! Love you Jamaica <3

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[twstowo]

May I request Heartslabyul and Azul with an S/O who’s a very hard worker when they dedicate themselves and adore occasionally spoiling those they’re close to? (COUGH COUGH THEM AND GRIM ESPECIALLY)

when they first moved into Ramshackle, they spent much of their time working at cleaning and renovating it, they can be slow at times to understand things but their dedication to things they decide to put their all into is truly remarkable!

like for say giving their s/o the love the deserve on every level 👀

they may or may not have cried more than once when they showed them love and affection completely forgetting that they deserve love too but shhhhh

I sincerely hope this isn’t too confusing or too much of a request, and I wish you a lovely night!

♡︎Bestie don’t overwork yourself, there are flowers literally blooming in antarctica

♡︎Includes: Heartslabyul and Azul

⋆⋅☆Riddle

Riddle fully understands you since he is also a hard worker. To a certain point, when he arrived at Ramshackles with a strawberry tart that he had made for you with Trey’s help, and he saw you crying from his actions, he felt that he had to do something about you overworking yourself. To be honest, he got so worried when you started to cry in front of him; he just didn’t understand why you were crying, to the point he thought that he had done something wrong.

He is quick to invite you to Heartslabyul, where the two of you can walk around the fields, check the hedgehogs, and eat some more sweets that Trey prepared just for the two of you. Riddle totally called him asking for help. He also assures you that if you need help ever again, to call him, and he will be there to help. He tries his best not to turn the moment into a lecture, as you should not overwork yourself to this point. Please bear in mind that he deeply cares about you, and he only wants the best for you.

⋆⋅☆Trey

He is quick to notice when you are overworking yourself and also quick to make sure you get a break. If you cry when he is being nice to you, he will fully understand that this is duo all the pent-up emotions you have been building up and he will be there for you, hugging you until you stop crying. Probably gives you the best life advice ever and later on just bakes you something.

⋆⋅☆Cater

Cater senses that something is wrong with you; he will know right away if you are masking how tired you feel from overworking yourself. You can't hide it from him. He invites you to hang out with him, and the two of you can just have a pajama party, gossip about everyone, watch movies, and eat junk food.

If you cry in front of him because of it, he will hug you. He understands how you feel, always trying to put up a happy facade while you just feel so tired and detached from yourself.

⋆⋅☆Ace

Ace is likely to tell you to chill every time he sees you overworking yourself. However, he may not actively assist unless you specifically ask for his help. It might take observing Deuce stepping in to encourage you to take a break and offering assistance for Ace to realize that he should be a better friend and lend a hand occasionally.

If you happen to cry in front of him, Ace could become awkward and unsure of how to handle the situation. He might resort to patting your back in an attempt to provide some comfort.

⋆⋅☆Deuce

As mentioned earlier, Deuce is the proactive friend who consistently advises you to take breaks and frequently lends a helping hand, even when you insist that you can handle things on your own. He'll show up at Ramshackles, encourage you to sit down and rest, insisting that you've already worked more than enough for the day.

If you ever find yourself in tears in front of Deuce, he may be taken aback at first. While he might not fully comprehend the reasons behind your emotional state, he'll gradually approach to offer a comforting hug, always ensuring that you're comfortable with him being this close.

⋆⋅☆Azul

Very attentive, he recognizes when you're overworking yourself. Riddle goes above and beyond to help you relax. He offers you a complimentary 5-star course meal at Monstro Lounge, arranges for Jade to provide a back massage, and even provides a spa coupon for you to unwind. Will also use some of the people he has under contract to help you clean Ramshackle.

If you find yourself in tears in front of Azul, he responds with a comforting hug, gentle head pats, and whispered words of solace in your ear to help calm you down. Following this, he aims to engage in a conversation to understand what happened and how he can further support you.

[grandlinedreams]

i love your law writing sm!!!

may i request for a law x reader where reader gets turned into a doll in dressrosa🫣

OUGH ANON YOUR MIND but also I hope that I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: Dressrosa spoilers, devil fruit effects (Sugar's), hefty dose of angst, Strawhat!reader, some comfort at the end!]

This is bad.

The sound of hard plastic over stone resounds through the air, a lone doll darting down the road, glass eyes fixed on the extension of string across the sky like a bird cage. Exactly like a bird cage.

You're fully aware that the situation has continously gone from bad, to worse, to steadily worsening ㅡ a domino effect that you're not sure how to solve.

Especially when you've been turned into a doll. Knobby ball joints allow you more freedom of motion, but your footsteps still stagger on the occasional odd step, unaccustomed to being so small. And made of plastic.

Damn that kid, you think, recalling your unfortunate encounter with the small green haired girl. She'd been crying, leading you to believe that she'd been looking for her parents in the chaos ㅡ and then she'd touched you, turning you into a doll.

"You're with the Strawhats," she'd told you evenly. "Serves you right."

Thankfully you'd taken off before she could continue, and you've yet to spot her giving chase. Now you're desperate to find whatever crewmates you can, to tell them what's happened to you ㅡ and if it can be fixed.

Zoro is the one you come across first, though he doesn't spare you a glance as he darts past you.

"Zoro, wait!" You take off after him, ball-jointed fingers reaching to snag into his pant leg. "It's me, Iㅡ"

"Get off me, I don't have time for this!" It's hardly a kick, but it still sends you flying, the hard click of plastic as you skitter across the cobblestone.

Despite your body being made of something inorganic, it hurts ㅡ and you stare at Zoro's retreating figure.

Had he not recognized you?

Picking yourself up, you stumble towards a fountain, hands flat against the rim as you peer into it. Glass eyes stare back at you in the same color as your own, the same shade and length of hair ㅡ and a deep crack in your cheek that spider webs out. No doubt from the impact moments before ㅡ and you touch it.

Surely if he'd known, Zoro wouldn't have done it. And he seemed like he was in a hurry ㅡ so you can't fault him. Resolve renewed, you pull away.

You need to find the others.

ㅡ

None of them recognize you. Not a single one of your crewmates seem to remember that you belong with them ㅡ undoubtedly an effect of Sugar's ability.

Regardless, it still hurts ㅡ that your presence has been completely wiped clean, reduced to nothing but plastic limbs and a hollow body.

What if you're stuck like this forever? If the rest of this is true, the other toy citizens of Dressrosa have been like this for years ㅡ how many of them have families? Children? Loved ones ㅡ are they toys too, or they people still?

If you could cry, you would.

Perhaps this is best. That they forget you completely, leave you here ㅡ being a doll can't possibly be so bad, can it?

You shake your head, hating the click of the movement as you bury your face in your hands. You don't want to be a doll anymore.

You want to be remembered.

ㅡ

"Still awake?"

Law's voice makes you turn from where you're seated in the kitchen of Kyros' house, staring out the window at the night sky.

"Can't sleep," you admit, studying the cup of tea you've let grow cold. "I don't think I did much to help, so I shouldn't be tired anyways."

Law blinks, lets his gaze drift over your face, stopping at the bandage carefully taped to your cheek. "What happened?"

"Huh?" He nods to your cherk, and your fingers brush the bandage. "Oh...I got turned into a doll and had a mishap."

You'd already recieved an apology from Zoro, and from the others for them forgetting your existence ㅡ and while it helps to know that they'd never truly do that to you, the dark thoughts still linger.

"You should be resting," you say, staring at the wrap of white bandage around Law's arm. "You almost lost an arm, that's way more serious."

Law gives a vague shrug. "You look like there's something on your mind."

You watch as he takes a seat across from you, and you sigh. You like Law, have found it easy to grow accustomed to him and his ever thinning patience with your crewmates' antics ㅡ and feel genuine relief that he's going to be fine despite his injuries from Doflamingo.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to," Law prompts softly, "but I don't mind keeping you company, either."

"That's kind of you," you answer, offering a small smile that quickly dims as you stare at your hands ㅡ hands that just a handful of hours ago, had been made of plastic. "I just...when no one remembered who I was, I thought abiut what would happen if I stayed like that and it's still sticking with me, I think."

Law watches you curl in on yourself, made smaller for the slump of your shoulders, the shimmer to your eyes that promises tears you fight hard not to let fall.

"If they'd be better off without me..."

"They wouldn't." Law's voice is crisp and cool, and you look up to find him staring at you. "Strawhat is a lot of things, but someone to regret the people he surrounds himself with isn't one of them. You're part of his crew for a reason." He pauses. "I'm also fairly certain you're one of the only ones capable of listening and following a plan."

It's a roundabout, awkward way of comforting you that feels entirely on par with who Law is, and you blink before a weak smile tugs at your lips. "I appreciate that. Thank-you, Law."

"You're welcome." He watches you silently before a smirk tugs at his his lips as he adds, "And besides, if Strawhat doesn't need you, I could always use someone like you on my crew."

[localplaguenurse]

Now I come into your ask with my usual deranged horniness//HIT

You've done the wifey seeing their past self bc ley line anomalies but consider.... wifey meeting past Morax

Do I want wifey to be sandwiched by Morax and Zhongli and this is my excuse? .....Maybe

wasxdfcghvhjbj but fr imagine past Morax being like, so this is life after winning the archon war (or even retiring from archonhood) hmmm and being so smitten with wifey like damn future me scored I want them <3

(Wifey can barely handle ONE Morax let alone two)

This has not been beta read. Also read prev leylines fic for context because I'm treating this as a part two.

Few mortals travel to Guili Plains these days. It's been a few decades since blood was last shed here, as it's been a few decades since the end of Liyue's Archon War. By now, new plant life has already begun to prosper, though the land still bares noticeable scars.

You're fortunate enough that your body is still youthful, if only because the body of a twenty-one year old can walk off a rough trip better than a fifty-three year old's. The grass is lush enough that any old cuts in the ground are obscured, making for some pretty frequent tripping hazards. You're glad you wore your painting attire, as it would kill you to get grass and mud stains in your nicer clothes.

You've talked with Morax a handful of times about Guili Plains, notably if he was comfortable with you or your children exploring it as you know this place holds a lot of his memories, good and bad. He has told you he is okay with you exploring, so long as you're careful and let him know when you'll be back. You've yet to have any issue with his conditions, save for maybe being careful, but it's not your fault that there are so many hidden cracks and gashes that you always stumble at least once when you visit.

Picking your various pencils and brushes up out of the grass, you look up and pause.

Of course you recognize the figure ahead of you, resting next to a large boulder. What shocks you, though, is the state he's in. The white of Morax's cloak is stained red, as is the tip of the polearm propped up next to him. You freeze up, a hand covering your mouth, before you quickly make your way over to him. What is he doing here. Why is there blood? How much of it is his? What happened?

"Morax?!"

His head snaps in your direction, and something about the harshness in his face stops you in your tracks. He's never given you this look, not once. You've seen him upset and angry but not like this. He stands up, and when he steps forward, he towers above you.

He tilts his head, and though he seems irritated over your intrusion, he also seems... confused?

You snap out of it and step forward, grabbing one of his arms. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He pulls his hand back immediately, taking a step back. He stares at you, almost bewildered, before a smirk cracks across his face.

"Aren't you a bold little mortal..."

The growl in his tone sends a shiver up your spine. You open your mouth to say something, but then you absorb his words.

Bold little mortal.

You two have been married for going on thirty years now, and have had a brood of five children now. He doesn't refer to you as a "mortal," but by a slew of more endearing pet names. Not only that, but he's never taken an almost patronizing tone with you like this.

It clicks.

This isn't your Morax.

Well, not yet. You have a flashback to the incident at the monastery, where you had comforted your former self. To have Morax first and foremost not recognize you, but also refer to you as a little mortal is indication enough of this. Not only that, you can see he has fewer scars on is body, and the ones he does have seem fresher. Whatever happened at the monastery is happening again.

Morax leans down, seemingly amused by your bewilderment. "Hm? Oh, has the cat caught your tongue, or however you mortals use that phrase? You were so confident in approaching me, so what's changed?"

You clear your throat, and you consider how you want to phrase this explanation. I mean, this is just a memory of Morax, seemingly. You don't have to interact with him, but you also want to.

You figure it's better to get this out of the way.

"I'm your wife."

"..."

Morax tilts his head back and quite literally roars with laughter. You feel it thundering in your chest as he hollers. He wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling, before he grins down at you.

"You are quite possibly the most confident or most foolish mortal I've yet to meet," he says, "and I truly must thank you. I haven't heard a joke like that in years."

You sigh, turn around, and move your hair away from your neck to expose the mark he left there. "I don't quite know how to explain this," you tell him, "or why you are here, but you're a younger version of my husband, and I am your future wife." You let your hair back down and turn to him. "W-We got married near the end of the Archon War, and you claimed me maybe a year later."

Morax looks you over, analyzing your attire, your figure. He circles you, like a wolf sizing up its prey, taking in every detail of your appearance.

"While I admit that you are a rather pretty little thing," he purrs, "I hope you take no offence when I ask why I would marry a mortal woman."

"There's a small village, it's maybe a week's travel north from Mt. Tianheng," you explain, "it has an even smaller monastery. It has an orchard full of ginkgo trees and a shrine dedicated to you. There's a seal put in place to keep the village safe from demons and the Archon War."

Morax pauses.

You continue. "The shrine was broken, and since I was shrine caretaker, the blame was put on me. My abbess..." You look down at your feet. "My abbess gave me to you as payment to fix the seal... You... You would later on kill her for mistreating me all my life."

"... How?"

"You turned her to stone," you say, "and then shattered her body like pottery."

"Hm... I admit, that does seem like something I would have done," he says, "and your knowledge on the shrine lends credence to your story. Still, I have difficulty believing you could be my little wife."

"Why is that?"

He chuckles. "You're very small compared to me. Most mortals have difficulty handling my... form, so I highly doubt you would fare well..."

You blush, but find yourself chuckling with him. You cross your arms. "Considering I've given you five children, I think I handle you very well."

It's Morax's turn to be surprised. "Five...?"

"The last pregnancy was twins," you tell him. "We have two sons, three daughters. They called you baba, and some of them still do. Our oldest, Yānjiáng, calls you father nowadays."

"You gave me... five children?"

"I can show you the stretchmarks."

Morax's face is void of emotion as he considers your words. He stares at your face, looking for any sign of dishonesty or perhaps delusion. Surely, you must be delusional, approaching the Warrior God like this, with no fear and claiming to be his future wife and mother to his five children. He doesn't find any, which is even more bewildering.

After a moment, he smiles. There's still something slightly mocking to it, as though he thinks you're lying, but there's a softness to his expression as he regards you.

"You weave an interesting and truly unbelievable story, little mortal," he states, lifting you chin with clawed fingers, "though I must admit, I'm intrigued. I suppose I will have to find you in the future to see if your story holds any merit."

Morax leans down to kiss your forehead. When his lips disappear, so does he, along with his bloodied polearm. You touch your forehead, and still feel his lips lingering on the skin.

The encounter leaves you with artist's block, simply unable to focus on recreating the scenery. You gather your thoughts and things, and begin to head home. You weigh in your head if you want to tell your Morax about the encounter, if he'll believe you at all. You know he trusts you, but that's still a strange claim to make.

... You're definitely going to ask him to do the growl voice more, though.

[hyperesthesias]

Can you actually write something smutty for Viktor? Or just a guide on how to? I really want to write some Viktor smut, but I'm worried I won't do his disability justice as I'm able bodied and a dumbass

Of my twelve years on this webbed site, this has got to be the best ask I have ever received lmao

I would be happy to help, friend. I'll answer this in two parts.

Yes, I am planning on writing Viktor smut for Viktor x Anya. I had a lot happen in the year since I made the post you're referencing, but I've finally been able to get back into fandom stuff. I wanted to lay some backstory with them first though, as I am apparently a PWP kind of person lmao. It's coming soon! (No pun intended).

You've taken the first great step in recognizing that your experience and knowledge may not be congruent with potential portrayal, and therefore asking for advice. I don't mean to sound patronizing at all. I am an author and I have seen many professional authors that don't do this, so you're already ahead of the game! I wouldn't consider that dumbassery in any way, shape, or form.

I'll put the rest under a cut due to the nature of this post.

*Disclaimer to this is, of course, I don't speak for every disabled person, this list isn't extensive, and these are my opinions.

I, personally, operate under the assumption that Viktor has Post Polio Syndrome. Looking at photographs (x, x, x) it's pretty clear the animators used PPS as a framework for Viktor's movements and posture, as well as his mobility and assistive devices. People with PPS often develop need for braces, canes or crutches, and treatment for scoliosis -- all of which Viktor has. You are more than welcome to headcanon something different, as I don't believe the writers or animators have ever confirmed or denied PPS, but based on my own experience and research, I would bet money on it.

That being said -- regardless of PPS, or otherwise -- the first thing to consider when writing smut for any disabled character is fatigue. It may not be the obvious thing, as mobility devices often are the first thing to catch an observer's eye. But there is so much that goes on beneath mobility devices. Fatigue is a big one.

Consider the worst flu you've ever had -- all the time, every day, even in your sleep. It can be maddening, like you can't get any relief -- even if you take pain reliever or use other analgesics. Most people with a severe flu aren't exactly in the mood to be frisky, especially spontaneously. Many physically disabled people rely on preplanning. Having a date night where they can plan for extra pain reliever, or where they can schedule the rest of their day or week to conserve energy for a special night. The psychological energy that people need to conserve alone can take a lot of effort. Being disabled is also mentally exhausting, especially when you have a partner and their needs to consider. Giving a disabled person time to prepare for sex (or other tasks) is essential.

Related to that, is the fact the energy levels aren't always consistent. A disabled person and their lover could be going at it like rabbits for a while and then suddenly the disabled partner may need to stop because their "battery" (their physical energy levels) has run out. They may need a break for a few minutes, or they may just need to end the sexual encounter altogether.

The worst thing you (or your character) could do is take this personally. It has nothing to do with their partner, it's their body that is (frustratingly [on many levels]) not cooperating.

Something to toy with (no pun intended) when writing characters with energy level deficits is vibrators. Twice the work with half the effort. Don't be afraid to write smut with toys and vibrators -- it doesn't even have to be kinky. Toys and vibrators are normal and vanilla, all things considered. The only reason they haven't been normalized is because of patriarchal standards as to what sex is and is supposed to be.

The second thing to consider is physical limitations of positions and potential discomfort. I've seen several fanfic writers describe situations and positions that Viktor simply would never be able to do (e.g. lifting his partner onto a table or desk).

Viktor doesn't have a lot of strength. That's not to say he can't be rough or that all smut has to be vanilla. But realistically, it's absurd to think that he can lift someone else or manhandle them with any force, or thrust at the speed of light (💀). He also doesn't have any balance whatsoever post Act I. During Act I, he's able to hobble somewhat without his cane, as long as he has something to hold onto, as seen in episode three. But in Acts II and III, his balance issues combined with scoliosis would make any positions where he has to stand much more difficult.

Therefore, if you're wanting to write a scene somewhere outside of a bedroom (e.g. the lab, his office, etc.), he'd need something to balance himself. Seated sex is a great concept to play with -- very disability friendly and offers many options for all sorts of scenes. Desk/table sex is also realistic, as long as your character lifts themself onto the desk or table, and he's able to lean on it.

Scenes that take place in the bedroom also have their own limitations. He has zero use of his right leg, which means he'd need more time to get in and out of different positions. Missionary would take a toll on his back, I'd imagine, from being hunched over -- not that he couldn't do it at all, but that was more of a sidenote. Having your character straddle him, while his back was supported, is probably the most comfortable position I can imagine. Or spooning. Or maybe doggy, though I think his back and hips might get tired. But I'm just spit balling at this point. Utilizing objects from the setting is important -- pillows, having your character bent over the back of a couch, etc. This is where creativity comes in -- it's just important to keep in mind where his limitations are located on his body: his back and his leg/hip.

There are also adaptive devices for sex and disabilities.

One final thing I want to say is: don't overcorrect. This is common. It's one thing to keep a character's disability in mind, but it's another to make a disability the entire character. Just because Viktor is disabled doesn't mean he can't have the filthiest, most disgusting, raw, life changing, I-should-visit-a-confessional type of sex. However you headcanon him to be in bed is exactly how he can be. If you see him as a cruel Dom, he absolutely can slap the shit out of whoever has the pleasure of being beneath him, while he makes them beg for his mercy -- with his back and leg supported. If you see him as a bratty sub, he can be that, too -- while he lies there with a back pillow to relieve pressure off his spine. If he's the plainest, blander-than-vanilla type of lover, that's exactly what he is -- while he takes a few extra minutes to move from one position to the next. If he's any combination of those things, more power to you.

The point of writing a scene, is the point you're trying to make. Meaning: a lot of writers worry about conveying ideas and settings perfectly and with detail, while losing sight of the main point of their story. Rarely will you ever have to add paragraphs to a piece of writing in order to convey something, especially if it's not the main point. Often, it only takes one or two sentences. Keep the main point of the scene in mind. If you're writing a fic where Viktor and your character are secretly getting it on in the lab, then the point and the idea of that scene is the forbidden sex they are having. Not necessarily his limitations. You can easily acknowledge Viktor's disability by saying something like: 'Viktor sat on a chair at the far end of the lab, away from the door's line of sight. He leaned his back against the seat, allowing his spine to settle, before he coaxed his lover onto his lap. His lover straddled his legs, reaching to kiss his neck, while his hand trailed up their thighs...' You've successfully conveyed the limitations he has in two sentences, while maintaining the focus of your scene, and without reducing Viktor to a caricature of his disability. Less is more throughout your fic.

As a side note, which is completely my headcanon -- and something I've vaguely alluded to in my Viktor x Anya fics -- is that Viktor also has erectile dysfunction as a result of the PPS. Polio is a neurological virus, meaning is attacks the nerve cells, the main cause of the atrophy in PPS. It isn't common, but it's not uncommon for males with PPS to struggle with ED. As such, in my own personal stories, I have mentioned that Viktor takes medication to help with it. Sildenafil (the generic for Viagra) is a medication that specifically targets nerves.

That's my own person interpretation, though, and has no bearing on what we seen in Arcane lol.

To close this off for now, I want to reassure you that your efforts count and they matter. No one will write any depiction of disability 'perfectly'. Disability is unique to every person, and one person's spinal disability will look different to another's. Even people with the exact same diagnosis and prognosis will differ in how they experience it. You're not a dumbass. You're very intelligent to recognize the need for external resources. Enjoy yourself, enjoy the work you write, and keep asking questions.

If and when you decide to write your Viktor smut piece, I would love to read it. And likewise, if you'd like to read what I write I'd be happy to send it to you! If you're comfortable coming off anon, you can message me privately and we can talk more!

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 11/04/2024

I will Never be a Redneck

Season 7 Featured on: SiIvaGunner's Highest Quality Rips: Volume Sapphire

Ripped by Madinstance

Requested by Corb and uwustepanne! (Discord, Request Form) (@uwustepanne)

"I'm just kidding, this isn't a blue balls rip. However, you're going to wish it was. I warned you."

Can you IMAGINE being 601billionlazer and getting this rip for Secret SiIva 5?? You hear the silly blue balls and go oh, haha what fun, what a great little bit Madinstance, you always outdo yourself so its fun to see you've taken a funny step back here - only for the truth to be revealed and all hell to break loose? You hear the backing change and think, I swear I recognize that, there's no way he actually did it - the banjo comes in with a gleefully sinister pluck and reaffirms your suspicions. Madinstance fucking did it. The first proper rip uploaded as part of Season 7 introduced the year with a fucking bomb. I will Never be a Redneck.

And look, I've covered some One-Winged Angel rips on here already, One Winged PSYcho - V​.​S. Sepsyrop and Hen'yoku no Piraman - the latter even being made by Madinstance as well - but I feel like it needs to be stressed how thoroughly deranged this rip in particular is. We ALL know Cotton-Eye Joe, if not the original American country song then ABSOLUTELY the world-famous 1994 Eurodance version - one that, funny enough, was recorded by a Swedish band. Indeeds, its oddly befitting: A culture clash between my homeland, and the nation where a majority of SiIvaGunner's own audience and contributors live - the result is that ALL of us knew well what Cotton-Eye Joe was, a piece of our childhoods for some, or at least for me. Yet its prevalence on SiIvaGunner had been comparatively tame in comparison to that popularity, only appearing in some modest mashups and melodyswaps in Season 1 - seven whole years before Madinstance deployed the nuclear option. Realizing that this overplayed icon of a song even had the ability to be remixed in such a fashion positively blew my mind - I won't sugarcoat it, I will Never be a Redneck completely floored me.

And like, in some ways its to be expected, right? Madinstance is incredible, he continues to show up on here with rips like Initial Deluxe (I've Just Raced on this Course Before) and Fell From a High Place (Reprise) for a reason - his prowess for these large-scale projects feels like it shouldn't even be humanly possible. I remarked back in Hen'yoku no Piraman just how much the recent trend of One Winged Angel rips impresses me, how each one feels as if the ripper is truly showcasing their worth whilst dedicating it all to the glory of a single meme. That still stands, yes, but to apply it to a song that otherwise had near-no prevalence on SiIvaGunner, no standard set for how remixing it ought to go: To have my FIRST ever time hearing Cotton-Eye Joe pitch shifted be in this absolute behemoth feels downright criminal. And its even crazier how it WORKS the whole way through.

The amount of touches present to make this feel as cohesive as it does is staggering. The chorus' titular line of "Cotton-Eye Joe" replaces the use of "Sephiroth!" in the base track perfectly, the original song's violin instrumental breaks between the chorus and verses are pitch shifted into the ominous tone of One Winged Angel's equivalent instrumental breaks, the banjo going off the shits in the longer break from the main melody midway through the track...really, its incredible how much of the original track's excitement and danceable fun suddenly sound so ominous, with changes so deliberate, substantial yet conservative enough to not lose the Cotton-Eye Joe feel - this ALWAYS sounds like the right amount of both tracks in balance. I love how the song's chanting "Hey-hey-hey-heyys" suddenly sound akin to One Winged Angel's latin choir song, how the vocals of the chorus repeat in a somewhat staggered, haunting way near the rip's end - like Beautiful Dreamer or My Dr. Eggman Can't Be This Evil!, its remarkable just how drastic the change of tone becomes through rips like this.

Most of all though, it is that gradual realization of what you're listening to that has made I will Never be a Redneck such a classic for me - NOBODY could've anticipated it based on the channel's past history, and nobody would've expected THIS would be the way that Season 7 would officially "start". Yet its the kind of rip you can send to anyone - both songs are immediately recognizable, and the effort put in to making the two work in tandem is unmistakably impressive. uwustepanne, who wrote in to request this be covered, included a short anecdote with her write-in, about how this rip showing up in her YouTube feed was what made her realize the channel hadn't ended with Season 6's finale, that I will Never be a Redneck in a way represents everything she loves about the channel, the impact its had on her. And yeah - isn't it crazy how a rip as cracked as this one, still wound up facing incredibly stiff competition for rip of the Season?? 2023 was one of SiIvaGunner's greatest-ever years, and seeing a rip like I will Never be a Redneck uploaded at its very start felt almost like they'd set the bar far too high for the rest of the team. Yet somehow, someway, everyone else was up to the challenge and continued making absolutely incredible rips throughout the entire year. Madinstance continues to raise the bar of quality on the channel at almost every turn, and having him do it at the Season's very start - with a rip as out-of-this-world as I will Never be a Redneck to boot - remains as an absolute power move.

[whump-about-it]

"I Think I'll Keep My Name"

Febuwhump Day 1: Helpless (alt: Found Footage)

CW: captivity, implied torture, defiant whumpee, forced to watch (sort of), fear of death.

They'd found the tape in the enemy base. One among dozens. The tapes were all marked with names but no dates. Team Leader had started playing them at random. They never finished a single one. Only watching the first few minutes, to see the people's faces and hear them say their own names before turning them off and putting the next one in. If anyone were to ask why, Team Leader would have said it was to save time. They didn't need to see the whole footage; only know who to send it to. But the truth was it was to save their sanity. The prisoners were already beat up by the time they were forced in front of the camera. On some of them a guard would step in from off screen and hit them more before Team Leader could turn them off. They were sure there would be more where that came from if they continued to watch.

They were already on edge when one of their teammates nudged them, causing them to startle. When Team Leader met their teammate's gaze their face was stony. Without a word they held out one of the tapes to Team Leader. When Team Leader looked down at it they understood why their teammate wanted to look at this one specifically. it had Whumpee's name on it.

Wordlessly, the whole team gathered around the screen as Team Leader set up the tape with shaking fingers. It started out like all the rest. An empty concrete interrogation room with a light swinging over head off screen. Whumpee is brought in through the door at the back of the room and forced to kneel in full view of the camera.

The whole team gasped to see them. They were pale and thin. Someone had shaved their head and taken their clothing. The thread bare prison garb they were dressed in did little to hide the cuts and bruises that littered their face and body, and they walked with a limp as they were dragged into the room. Worst of all, their once bright eyes the team remembered them having, were blank and lifeless.

Whumpee had been missing for years. But it was impossible to tell if the video had been taken last week or when they were first captured. They looked so different from the person Team Leader remembered that they doubted they would have recognized them if their name hadn't been on the tape. But they'd seen people devolve like that in less than a week before.

"State your name." Someone off camera said sounding bored.

"You know my name."

Even Whumpee's voice was unrecognizable. Devoid of their usual mirth, or any tone at all for that matter.

"For the record."

Whumpee looked at the floor and shook their head. Their was the sound of movement off camera and some stepped in frame and hit Whumpee across the face.

"State your name!"

"No."

The guard hit Whumpee again, then grabbed them under the chin and forced them to look at the camera to show a new weeping cut on their face, and a bloody nose.

"Don't you dare talk back! State your name."

Whumpee's blank eyes flashed with something. Not emotion necessarily, but something Team Leader recognized. Their heart sank even before Whumpee opened their mouth again.

"Or what?" Their voice was still a monotone. Still low and small. But they had stopped their captors in their tracks. "You'll kill me?"

There was a long pause where nothing happened, on or off the tape. The whole team watched with their hearts in their throats as the guard on camera turned around to look at the person behind it, apparently looking for direction.

"You've taken everything else from me already" Whumpee continued "I think I'll keep my name."

Everything went from zero to one hundred very fast after that. The guard on camera swung back around and hit Whumpee with such force they fell over. Several other guards appeared in frame and began yelling and kicking them as the camera shook as though it had been hit. Many members of the team cried out. Some in shock. Some in anguish.

The youngest member of the team, the only member who hadn't known Whumpee, had the ware-with-all to reach over and stop the tape to spare the others. Everyone else fell into a stunned silence, looking back and forth at each other, waiting for someone to say something.

"I can finish reviewing this one on my own." the youngest member finally offered.

"Back at base." Team Leader agreed. They didn't even try to pretend any of the rest of them would be able to handle what they might see. They were more concerned about trying to hide the frog in their throat. "Collect all of the tapes and any paperwork and lets get back. We need to find out when these interrogations happened. Some of these people might still be alive."

Whumpee might still be alive

They added silently.

I doubt it though. Now more than ever.

[broshot]

"dance with me" pt. 2

part 1, mitsuya and ran

slow dancing with them part two!!! contains just kazutora hanemiya because his part got longer than expected cw/tw: FLUFF, all characters are of age, kissing, pet names, confession, you're his best friend, reader is shorter than kazutora,

english isn't my first language sorry for bad writing

KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

"Can we leave this party?" Kazutora whispers to you as soon as your friend leaves. He's seen at least 20 of your friends (he's exaggerating) come up to you and he's tired. Social situations aren't his favorite.

"Already? We've been here for only.." you start as you open your phone to check the time. It's been two hours. "Oh. I'm so sorry 'Tora, I didn't realize the time. We'll leave as soon as possible."

But he doesn't believe it as another one of your friends comes up to you with a smile on their face.

So he does something he's sure he'll regret later. He takes your hand and leads you away from your friend. He's glad he knows the building when he walks into a long hall with many doors. If he didn't know the place, he would already be lost. He opens one of the doors and pulls you into a big room. He's looking at you.

"Kazutora, what the hell are you doing? I was talking to my friend!"

He sighs, turning around and leaving you behind him confused. This gives you time to look around and process where you are. The room is big, and has a tall ceiling; it's at least eight meters tall, probably more. The floor is shiny, and the night lights coming from the windows are painting shadows on it.

"Do you hear them?" Kazutora suddenly asks. "The people, I mean. The people and the music."

You nod. It's hard not to hear them, in fact, you think the sounds might be coming from the room that's under you two.

"They're slow dancing." He informs you. You only hum in answer.

Both of you stay quiet for a moment. He wants to ask you something, it's obvious from the way he's fiddling his fingers and stealing quick glances at you. You've known him for long enough to recognize what his behavior means.

"What's up?" You ask, encouraging him to tell you what he's thinking about.

"I just.." he's quiet, clearly thinking about his next words. "Please dance with me."

You're taken aback from the words leaving his mouth, and you're quiet for longer than three seconds which makes him nervous.

"I'm sorry, I know it was a weird thing to say, friends aren't supposed to slow dance in a room with just two of them alone." He says and laughs nervously. You shake your head, smiling.

"Yes, mister, you may have this dance." You tease and he smiles, clearly relieved.

He walks closer to you, reaching out his hand, which you gladly take.

He pulls you close to his chest, laying one hand on your waist.

"Hi." He breathes out.

"Hi." You answer.

Kazutora starts leading the dance, swaying along the rhythm of the music. His heart is beating fast and he's afraid you might hear or feel it. Suddenly, you lay your head against his chest and he feels your warm breath tickle his neck.

He feels his cheeks heat up. He's certain you'll hear his heart beating now.

Kazutora looks down at you, smiling.

"I like this," you mutter, referring to the dance.

"Me too," he says.

You take a half-step away from him and he twirls you around, his hands landing on your waist.

"May I kiss you?" He whispers to your surprise. You're not quiet for long this time, instantly whispering "yes".

He moves one hand from your waist to your cheek, pulling you closer.

He presses his lips on yours, relaxing into your touch.

His lips feel soft on yours. You're moving your lips in sync with his. It's almost as if your lips were made for each other, and even though it's just your first kiss together, it feels like you've kissed him a thousand times before. Kissing him feels natural.

He's caressing your cheek with his thumb as you part from the kiss. He lets out a soft laugh and your heart is melting, he's adorable.

"I love you so much," he says as he presses his forehead against yours. You both freeze.

He just confessed his love for you. He takes two steps back, letting go of you.

"I'm- really sorry." He stutters, panic filling his eyes. "I know you don't like me back, we're just friends and I don't want to ruin it by-" You cut his blabbering off with a soft kiss on his lips.

"Kazutora, I love you too. I always have." You confess, smiling.

Panic leaves his eyes and he looks relieved. "Thank God," he sighs.

"I've loved you ever since we first met, that was first day of pre-school, wasn't it?" He mumbles softly, pulling you closer by your waist again. He presses another kiss on your lips.

You just stay there like that for a while, holding each other.

"Can we leave this party now?" Kazutora asks a few minutes later, making you laugh.

"Definitely, I don't want to stay here any longer. Your place or mine?"

♡♡♡

this is hmmmmm idk if I like it or not

please recommend characters for part 3, I'm lost

MASTERLIST

[nachosncheezies]

I can't find the post where you've rambled about Kurt Crawford before! Please ramble to me about Kurt Crawford!

Hi hello and thank you for your patience as I answer this one month to the day from when you sent it!!!! 🙈 oops

The Crawfords was my original answer to @perpetually-weirdening's question "what character do you wish we learned more about" but I'm so happy to expand on that, I have a lot of feelings!!! xD

The thing about the Kurt Crawfords is that (unless I'm forgetting something big) they're the first clones we've seen that are explicitly said to be the progeny of abductees/the MUFON women. We've met other clones before including the Samanthas in Colony/End Game but those were rogues trying to figure out how to hybridize themselves into some kind of genetic variability that would let them look different and blend in. (they used discarded tissue from abortion clinics rather than stolen ova) The bounty hunter was after them for simply existing outside The Project.

The Crawfords are different. They're part of The Project. The first one that Mulder and Scully meet is the one they track down after finding someone is remotely copying Betsy Hagopian's computer files. This Crawford claims to be a member of Betsy's MUFON chapter, and he tells them there's a conspiracy to cover up the women's deaths. He leads them to Penny Northern, who (unfortunately) directs Scully to Dr Scanlon and her first attempt at treatment. The bounty hunter comes for Crawford #1 in Betsy's basement the minute Mulder steps away.

Crawford #2 turns up at the fertility clinic where Betsy and some of the others had been treated. This Crawford is dressed differently but Mulder doesn't know yet that there's more than one, and accuses him of having run off with the files they'd been working on in Betsy's basement. Between them and the Gunmen, they track down Scully's name in a research lab directory, which leads them to data on the branched DNA they'd already identified after Scully's abduction. But if someone's looking at this as a possible cause for her illness, maybe they're also looking for a cure, so the Gunmen help Mulder break into the Lombard facility where he finds a whole room of Kurt Crawfords.

And this is where IMO it gets so complicated and so bittersweet and so REAL. We learn very little about the Crawfords in the few minutes Mulder is with them but what we do learn is pretty significant for something that's never really talked about again. They recognize Mulder, they welcome him. They lead him straight to the drawer containing Scully's stolen ova (the first time we learn what the project did to her when she was abducted). They tell him how they were harvested, that the radiation used in that procedure caused her (and the MUFON women's) cancer. They tell him that the men who are claiming to treat this rare cancer are the same ones that caused it, that those men are actually working to hasten the women's deaths.

But!!!! what gets me most is this exchange:

Mulder: You're trying to save them. Crawford: They're our mothers.

What a thing to think, to feel, to say. The Crawfords came from fucked up circumstances and they're not really human. They're complicit in perpetuating it all by making more of themselves, but this is their life cycle, this is their job, this is what they know. From what we're shown we have no reason to believe that any of them has ever experienced what it is to have a mother in any sense other than a genetic donor. They're grown in tanks from tampered genetic material taken from tampered women without either party giving consent.

But they recognize that they owe their existence to these human women, who were violated and now suffer and die for it. And in those very few words he says: they don't want that. They recognize it's wrong. They're trying to stop it. (They are risking their lives; their subversion sends the bounty hunter after them.) It's their chance at redemption for the crime of being alive and that alone is painfully human.

They want Mulder and Scully to know the truth. The fact that they lead Mulder directly to where Scully's stolen ova are kept. That they let him take from that drawer without comment. They let him take the truth in his hand, surely aware that he might return it to her. (I like to think they hoped he would.) Because she, and the other women, are their mothers.

IMO one of the biggest elephants in the room for this whole show, although we don't learn about her until well after this, is Emily. How many others like her might there be? It's fucking TRAGIC to think about. But she's not the only thing to come from those stolen ova. The Crawfords are not the children Scully or any of the other MUFON women wanted. But they exist. They are grateful, in whatever way a hybrid clone can be. They recognize the sacrifice and suffering that brought them to life. They are doing what they can, in their own way, to set it right. Because to them, those are their mothers.

Knowing about the Crawfords and their subversion of The Project could never undo what was done to Scully or the others. But as gross and shocking a revelation it would be to know that inhuman things are being made in place of the children they can never have, what the Crawfords show us is that not everything that came from those violations are tragedies in the way of Emily and any other children like her. I wonder if it might have been a comfort for Scully to know that out of one of the worst things to ever happen to the abducted women, These Men Who Would Create a Life Whose Only Hope Is To Die have also accidentally created lives whose greatest hope is to save people, to save her and others like her. That these inhuman children the women never wanted have somehow grown to have a sense of empathy, a sense of justice, a moral compass, a desire to do what's right. Things a mother would want for her children, things a mother could be proud of. That they may not be human, they may not know what it is to be children, but they know that somewhere out there they have mothers, and they care.

I wonder if Mulder ever told Scully. I hope someday he did.

[luciadiosa]

Hi please could I request a James Norrington x Swann!Reader where the reader is Elizabeth’s older sister and she fancies James but James didn’t notice her so she pretends to faint but he catches her and carries her to her bedroom and waits for her to wake up then he tells her how he feels about her and they get married and you can add the rest

Sure :) I hope you like it. Request James Norrington x Swann!reader Words: 910 Warning: 0

____________________________________________________

You've been watching him all your life. Since your father first introduced him. How can one not admire a man like James Norrington? He is good looking, polite and courteous. He is ambitious and has clear ideas about his life. His blue eyes are to die for and his smile made you daydream once in a while. It was one of those days again. James was with your father.

You have tea with your younger sister Elizabeth. But your eyes are on James as usual. Your sister chuckles softly and takes a sip. "You should make yourself known." She suddenly whispers.

"That's unpretentious for a lady. Besides, he's not looking for a bride.” You react and exhale in disappointment. You had overheard your father discussing a possible settlement between Elizabeth and Norrington.

Of course he would want his youngest to be well taken care of. But she still had to find a suitable husband. It was just harder for you. So far you have rejected every candidate and only because your heart secretly beats for someone else.

You hastily finish your tea and get up when you see James leaving the room and the house. You enter the garden through the back door. Your feet carry you past the meadow with the horses to the border of the property. But you are too late. He's already too far away. Dejectedly, you stamp one foot on the ground and walk back. Your chance to speak to him was gone.

A few days later you are standing in front of the fireplace. The fire played a pleasant melody. James Norrington is talking to your father again. You just stand there, almost bored.

You almost lost hope. Even when your father calls you to you. With a polite smile you step closer. Elizabeth's words reach your ears. As soon as you are close you stop. You close your eyes and put your index and middle fingers on your forehead.

"Are you not well, darling?" asks your father.

Decorated with flowers and trimmed with gold, the cup slips out of your hand. It breaks on the ground and the contents spill over the floor.

"I..." you want to answer, but immediately you give your knees the command to stop holding your weight and you sag down. With a reaction of lightning you are caught.

James had turned you in the air so that you are now in his arms. He's kneeling on the ground with one leg holding you. You recognize the outline of his face through your half-open eyes, which now close completely. With a jerk he lifts you completely in his arms and follows your father to your room.

He carefully put you down there. There was always a servant by your side. And James. Your father told you that he came back after the first night and insisted on watching over you until you were awake again. You took advantage of this opportunity and only moved through the house when no one noticed. A whole week later you open your eyes.

Mr. Norrington?” you ask weakly, recognizing him.

"Correctly. Y/N, how are you?” he asked immediately and had a glass of water brought. When you sit up, he hands it to you.

"I think better. You don't have to stay here any longer. There are definitely more important things.” You try to placate him.

James sits on the edge of your bed. "Y/N. May I be honest?"

You look up from the glass you were about to drink from. "Naturally." He grabs your free hand with his hands.

"Y/N." you like the way he pronounces your name. "I was worried. I only realized it after I carried you to your room and you don't wake up for the day."

“We hardly exchanged words. What makes you think that?” you wonder. James clears his throat.

"I noticed you. You were always there. But I didn't recognize you. Like a blurred image at sea. A piece of land in a storm.”

Silence. His eyes are glued to your hand in his.

"I was afraid you would never wake up again and I would not have taken the chance to get to know you better."

You say nothing and put the glass away. "I don't know what to say."

"Do you have any sympathy for me? Even affection and attraction?” he throws in questioningly. "Because I can't sleep for fear of you. My lips have longed for yours ever since I watched you. You.."

"James." You cut him off. "You are blind because you never realized how much I admired you. How much I watched you, every time you were there. I've felt the way you describe it for a long time."

He smiles. He gently lifts your hand to his lips. "Then let me speed it up. Let me ask your father for your hand.”

He scoots closer to you. "But only if you want that too." He remarks,

You bend slowly. "That would make me happy."

James bridges the distance and kisses you. For this moment, time stands still. His lips nestle against your soft lips and send a shiver down your spine.

He breaks the kiss and rests your forehead against yours.

"I love you." He breathes while holding your hand against his chest, still wrapped in his hands.

[punkassfrance]

Carried Away - Joel x Reader

Rated T for partial nudity and suggestive dialogue. Joel picks up a new project- it's been a long time since you've seen him this excited. Content warning for minor cut/injury, knife, and country music I guess.

This fic comes with a playlist! The first two songs are the songs actually featured, in order, the rest are just songs I think Joel would listen to (working, dancing, singing along, whatever.) All were initially released pre-2003. I recommend the first two songs at least, but hey, enjoy the rest if you like!

You’re not certain where he found it. If it was in Jackson, it was a wonder someone hadn’t taken it already. If it was outside, you had no idea why he decided to drag it back.

Well, maybe you have an idea. 

When he kicked the door down and stomped his muddy boots into the kitchen, smiling like a kid, you almost didn’t recognize what was in his hands. He lifted it and held it out for you to see.

“Look!”

You were a kid the last time you saw one of these in your father’s “man cave”, but the closer you look, the more it starts to come back to you.

It’s a Victrola. An old one, even by 2003 standards. The wood casing has a few dings and stains, but it looks much better than it should after twenty years sitting wherever it was. You only look over the crooked needle for a second before looking back up to Joel, and he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. After years of living together, years of being together, you never got the chance to really appreciate his dimples until now. You smile.

His boots thunk across the floor, dried mud falling off in chunks as he makes his way to the garage. You grimace and eye the broom, tempted to give him shit about the mess- but you haven’t seen him this excited in a long time.

He can sweep up his mess later. 

-

Right before you chop down on the carrot in your other hand, snow slides off the roof and hits the trash cans, startling you. You miss and slice your finger, grimacing as you pull away and observe the cut. Barely more than a papercut, but it stings. 

As you reach for a paper towel, the garage door swings open. Joel steps through, toeing his boots off and wiping his hands with a stained rag. “I think it’s just about running, babe-” he says, a perk in his voice as he looks up to you. Concern passes over his face, subtle, but not invisible. Not to you, anyway. Not after this long.

He crosses the floor in a few strides, taking your hand and holding it close up to his face. He’s not wearing his glasses; still too stubborn to admit he needs them.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, dear. Just got myself with the knife.” He sticks the tip of your finger between his lips. “What are you��doing?”

He glances up at you before pulling your hand away, dabbing at it with the paper towel he took from your hand. “Helps keep the cut clean, avoid infection. You gotta be careful with those knives, sweetpea…” He grumbles a bit under his breath, too low and quiet for you to make out, but you can imagine what he’s saying. 

He glances out the window at the snow, then looks down at his dirty t-shirt. “Sorry I’ve…been out in the garage all afternoon.”

“Joel, you couldn’t have saved me from slipping with a kitchen knife.” 

“I know, but…” He pulls you in, arms wrapping around your waist. His chest is so warm- the cologne he put on this morning has faded a bit, softer under the smell of dirt and beer. Rising and falling, sturdy under your cheek. “...I promise this’ll be worth it.”

“It already is.” You get up on your toes to kiss him before pushing him away. “I know how much you love a project. Go clean up before you touch me again.” As he walks off to the bathroom, you reach out to pinch his ass. He smacks at your hand, smiling before he disappears up the stairs.

-

When you come home from patrol in early February, the house isn’t silent as you expected. It’s not filled with children like some day, Ellie and her friends off at school. No. It’s music. 

Old music. The type of thing you hear in the car with Joel. As you toe your boots off and shed your layers, you think you recognize the song- something Joel hums while he works, maybe. Stepping into the kitchen, you can hear him singing along under his breath.

“But darlin’, when you come around…” You knock on the kitchen wall to get his attention. He’s buried up to his elbows in dish water, but he jerks around and reaches for a hand towel once he hears you. There’s that grin again, the one you’ve only seen a few times. You’ll never point it out to him. He might stop if you did. Once his hands are dry, he jerks a thumb at the Victrola spinning on the dining room table. “Finally got her running! Maria let me have free reign over the remaining vinyl collection in the library, apparently we’re the only ones in town with a working record player.”

You stare at each other for a moment, soft smiles in a quiet moment before he crosses the room and pulls you in. Instinct raises your arms to loop around Joel’s neck, like this is just where you  belong. You can’t remember belonging anywhere else. The past is too abstract to think about right now, and as far as you’re concerned in this moment, you’ve never been hurt in your life. Joel is right here, pulling you into his chest, humming along to the music. This is as real as it gets.

“I get carried away, by the look, by the light in your eyes…” His chest rumbles subtly as he sings, his hands playing with your hair. You’re not sure when he started swaying you with the music, but the motion is comforting. “Before I even realize the ride I’m on…” Lips press against your head. “...baby, I’m long gone…”

The song crackles out too soon, but he doesn’t let go until you lift your head to look at him. He pulls you up closer to his lips, almost lifting you off the ground in a desperate kiss. 

When he finally lets go and you stumble off to the bath, you reach up to feel your hair where he was fiddling with it. It’s tucked into a loose braid.

-

The library is in surprisingly good condition. Part of the success of Jackson can be attributed to the well-stocked instructional books, so it makes sense the town would prioritize library maintenance. Ellie works down here some days, reading or playing with the gameboy color Tommy got her for the holidays. 

Today, you’re in the back room, digging through what’s left of the digital media. There’s CDs, cassette tapes, VHS tapes, various fixed up devices to borrow, and most importantly vinyls. Joel doesn’t know you’re here today. He’s out hunting with Tommy, which would scare you to death, but he’s come back every time. 

If there’s anything left to have faith in, it’s him.

You pull back each vinyl, scanning the titles for a second before moving along the stacks. The edges are worn and tattered, but you know the broken records have been culled for the most part.

The front door screams through the library as it opens, thudding closed before footsteps approach the back room. You turn to watch the doorway, breathing a sigh of relief when Maria approaches you with a smile. The goal was to surprise Joel with a few records- that would have been ruined if he came home early and caught you.

Luckily, she seems to have a stack of records in her hands. 

“Hey. Glad I caught you- Jesse found these in one of the buildings we’re fixing up, I was going to let Joel know when he got back.” She set them down, pulling an empty milk carton out from under the table. “See anything you want?”

You hold up a small stack as she starts pulling out records to check. “A few things, yeah. Bit of rock, bit of country, and a few for me. Is there any due date for returning these?”

She glances over her shoulder with a bemused grin. “We’ll cross that bridge when someone else gets a record player. So, no.”

You smile as she pulls a record out of its sleeve and pauses. Holding it up to the light to look for warping or scratches, she holds the sleeve out to you. “I know Tommy likes this guy, I’m pretty sure Joel’s a fan too.”

The sleeve is a bit faded with time, but not unreadable. Maria hands you the record, apparently deeming it satisfactory. You’ve heard the name on the label before.

“I think you’re right.”

-

When Joel comes home, he’s a wreck. Covered in filth, more than usual, aching, just a bit grumpy. He doesn’t even make it to the laundry room before shedding his hunting gear with a deep, long-suffering sigh. When he looks up, his eyes soften a bit. You’re not wearing much- the house is toasty, especially by the fire, and you never wear pants if you can help it. You’re in underwear and one of Joel’s old t-shirts. You smile when you see him, standing from the couch and grabbing another log. Fire crawls up the sides as you feed it to the hearth. 

Joel’s eyes light up as the song on the Victrola registers. 

“Is this…?”

“I know you like this guy.” You stand up straight, holding out a hand to lure him in. He hesitates, but steps forward in front of the fire and pulls you into his chest. A chill runs through him, and he doesn’t smell nearly as nice after two days of hunting, but you don’t mind all that much. A candle burns on the side table, and he still smells like Joel after all- you’ll just have to warm him up yourself.  

He holds you tight- this time, it doesn’t feel like it’s for you. Soft lips kiss at your neck. He’s not leaving marks, just easing into you the best way he knows how. His hands dip down to rest on your ass, fingers tracing over the lacy elastic border. 

“Shit, babydoll. I’m getting you all dirty.” 

“Hm…if only there was some kind of…big ceramic container we could lather up in. Hot water, maybe. A tub for bathing, perhaps-” You trail off into giggles as he lightly pats your ass. 

“Smartass.”  

Crackling silence fills the air as the song changes over. Piano. Eventually, a guitar. 

Joel looks down at you. You don’t get to see him this soft often, but every time, you treasure the occasion. If there’s anything you’ll remember as you age, as your memory slips away, it’s him. His name. This reverent, adoring smile. Joel.

His hair is graying. It’s one of your favorite details about him. You hope when his memory starts to fade, he remembers you too.

Just look at you, girl.

“Standing here beside me,” he sings quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear. “Starlight in your hair.” 

He pulls you into the crook of his neck, arms tight around you. “Looking like a dream I dreamed somewhere…” 

You never would have thought Joel to be the romantic type. He was so standoffish when you first met- hardened and gruff and a bitter asshole to everyone except Ellie. You imagine him before the outbreak.

There’s no way to know if he looked anything like the man in your arms. But you hope.

The song drawls on, quiet in the corner of the room. You don’t mind all that much, it makes it easier to hear Joel. Eventually he stops singing along, too busy swaying and sighing into your neck. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you make a note to ask him to sing the song around the bonfire some time- but it’ll never compare to the rumble of his voice on your body. 

I’m an ordinary man, but I feel like I could do anything in the world…

He pulls back to kiss you properly as the song closes. 

…when I look at you girl.

When the fuzz of the record fills the room again, he sighs.

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

“I’ll draw a bath.” You get up on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Dinner is in the oven.”

He nods, letting go after a moment. Before you pull away, you whisper in his ear. 

“If you play your cards right, you might just get a massage after.” 

He chuckles and pats your ass again, sending you up the stairs. The last thing you hear as you walk off with a smile is the sound of the needle lifting off the record. 

Hope you enjoyed! Check out my about me with all of my info and other works! Comments are always appreciated c:

[synchodai]

just dropping by to say how much i love your jacegan fic 🥺 i want to start writing my own fic but i've tried and every time i lose interest and finish it. i love how you give us such quick updates with barely any typos and a clean structure. what's your secret? do you use any tools like ai to write so fast? thank you!

Oh wow, first of all, thank you for the compliment! Second of all, do not, and I mean DO NOT, for any purpose use chatgpt, character.ai, or any large langauge models for your writing — just don't. It won't help your writing, it won't help you as a writer, and it won't help anyone alse.

To answer the question, I guess I'm a relatively quick writer because I've been writing for years and years now outside of fanfiction, so I have a process and the habit down pat, honed from creative writing workshops and the more rigid process of academic writing. With the process I have, half the entire project is basically done even before I post the first chapter.

My approach to writing is very similar to how most people draw and make visual art. You start with a rough and vague outline and then add the details in later steps. Outlining is a learned skill. For fanfiction, most free-write their work, but if I actually intend to finish anything more than 10k+ words, I need to have a plan and know where I'm heading. I really do recommend at least learning to outline, even if you are an intuitive writer who will end up mostly ignoring it.

Here's a rundown of my "steps" with examples taken from my current fic and a project that's still in the planning stages that I may or may not write:

#1: Outline the whole project

Plot the fic chapter by chapter, centering each chapter around one major event or info reveal. You can be as vague and messy as you want for this step since you're the only one who'll get to see your outline anyway.

#2: Outline the scenes you want per chapter

You don't need to list everything that'll happen at this stage. These are the key scenes that you daydream about while listening to music or taking a walk. You can picture these scenes on vivid 4k.

#3: Write summaries of each scene

I put each chapter into a seperate document with their key scenes already there. Here's the phase where you just start telling yourself the story. Again, this isn't meant to be read and seen by anyone but you. The goal is just to know how the events are connected and will play out. This is also the part where I do most of my research.

For example, under Chapter 4 - Jace Recovers, I wrote:

Jace wakes up in Driftmark/High Tide. Body aching, barely can move. [Research here how long it takes to heal from broken arm and medieval casts.] Sees himself in the mirror for the first time and doesn't recognize himself. Has as existential crisis but because he's Jace, he channels the dread into wanting to keep fighting.

This is very short since it's a scene with no dialogue, just one character, and just one major plot point. Some of my summaries are 10x longer, especially for things like trials, small council scenes, battles, and other big events.

#4: Actually start writing the prose

Because you've done step #3, you won't be staring at a blank document and actually know how everything will play out. Without having to worry about plot consistency or inaccuracies since you've ironed that out in the previous step, you can focus on just making these things sound evocative or beautiful or punchy or comforting or angsty or whatever mood you want to communicate with your prose. The summary that was 55 words ended up being 750+ words after this step, and I breezed through it in one sitting.

#5: Plug the prose into a text-to-speech program

I don't have a beta-reader so this is basically my beta-reading step. There are plenty of free TTS apps out there and any of them will do. The goal here is to catch typos, see which lines sound clunky, repetitive, or disjointed, and make corrections accordingly. I listen to my own writing while doing chores, walking, or any other mundane task, and I find it the most enjoyble part of this process because it fills me with such a sense of accomplishment having that sort of tangibility in hearing my work.

Just to clarify, this is the process that I've tailored for my own personal needs and preferences. Every writer is different — some need to have a mood board or reference images or find summarizing their chapters removes the joy of "discovering" as they write. All those methods are perfectly valid as long as they get you to actually put words other people can read on a page. But you can't discover your own personalized method unless you actually start writing. It will be slow earnings at first, but eventually you will craft it bit by bit through trial and error.

OTHER MISCELLANEOUS REASONS WHY I WRITE SO QUICKLY

My job is not emotionally or physically draining, so I have plenty of energy for creative pursuits. If you go home exhausted, don't force yourself to churn out words. If this starts feeling like a chore and not fun, that's your signal to rest and take a break.

I write primarily on my mobile device. Because of this, I can write during downtimes and my commutes. There are some writers who have to be in front of a desk, but I recommend at least trying it on your phone just to see if it works for you.

If I don't want to write about it, then I don't. Don't ever feel like you have to write about anything if you don't want to. If there's a big battle that happens but you get bored writing action? Just tell the readers it happened in one or two sentences — no need to devote a whole scene or chapter to it if it doesn't excite you. Same with time passing and travel. You don't have to fill the page with paragraphs explaining what the characters did if you just want to get them from point A to B. If it isn't fun to write about, then your readers most likely won't have fun reading it either.

I don't care if it's not the best that I can do. Often, I do think I could have written certain things better and added more. But eh, it's fanfiction. It's a hobby. The fact that it exists and I created something is already an accomplishment and the desire to endlessly finetune gets in the way of that.

I have a community of fellow fanfic writers I can bounce ideas off of. Honestly, I got lucky with this one and just got invited to random server one day. But you can usually find discord servers with fellow fanfic writers linked in your fandom's subreddit.

I don't have twitter, instagram, tiktok, or other social media time sinks that might distract me from my hobby. This one speaks for itself. Tumblr is really the only place you can find me.

Anyway, I think that's pretty much it. I suggest starting small with a one-shot or short story, and then expanding from there. Happy writing, and remember, the goal really is to just have fun and be proud you made something with your own two hands (so absolutely NO AI).

[skvaderarts]

Petrichor Chapter 67: Hesitantly

Chapter 67: Hesitantly 

Note: Hey, everyone. I'm doing a lot better now. Thank you so much for your kindness and your wholesome messages on A03, Tumblr, and on Discord. Sorry for making you worry. That was… a scary time. You've all made it so much better. Phew. Thank you all. 💗

(-~-)

After being called upon by an assistant of the mistress of the citadel, they'd been led to the higher stratum of the structure, a cacophonous series of hallways, dramatically moon-lit chambers, various-sized rooms, and arched walkways that led through semi-indoor-outdoor spaces up and down flights of stairs through sky gardens and under the waterfall that was such an iconic part of the structure. After a ways, they had come to a small room of sorts. One that almost seemed to be a bedroom of sorts, but wasn't. More of a dressing room but without mirrors or closets. It was simply a dark room with a small skylight and two arched folding doors that led to a small balcony that overlooked the path they had taken to come into the room in the first place. And within were a few different figures in robes similar to their escorts, The group of them seemingly seeing to the night’s affairs. Nodding politely as they entered but not speaking.

As the door closed behind them and they entered the space in earnest, one of the assistants approached their guide and handed her what appeared to be a shimmering bundle of fabric. She turned to him and extended it out to him, pointing to an area where he could go to put it on. She then nodded politely and stepped back, finally breaking the silence.

“Wear this. Nothing else.”

V looked at her in slightly stunned and apprehensive silence for a moment before looking down at the bundle of fabric. It felt light. Thin. A glance over at Sirrus yielded no further clarity as the adjudicator simply shrugged gently, an awkward look of discomfort on his face that was as subtle as it was undeniable. She had meant precisely what she'd said. That was just how they did things here.

Opting to ask no further questions, the young summoner nodded subtly and surrendered himself to his apprehension, simply choosing to swallow his unease as he walked over to the indicated area to undress and dawn whatever garment they'd seen fit to lend him. The sooner that he got this over with, the better. At least one of the people in this room had already seen him naked…

As soon as he was behind the privacy of the partition they had provided him, he disrobed and lifted the garment up in front of him, curious to see what exactly it was supposed to be in the first place. And as it unrolled and he realized it was a singular piece, his curiosity was mildly piqued.

Ah, so it was a robe.

Black, silken, and shimmering under the dim starlight. The fabric was as dark as night, hanging just above the floor if he stood up perfectly straight, something that it probably wouldn't have done if not for his height. An ornate dark gray embroidery in the form of different moon phases and webs skirted the edge of each outer seam of the fabric, especially on the front and the collar with more scarce designs on the long, bell-shaped sleeves. It seemed to trace and depict a lunar cycle, but not one he recognized, though he couldn't claim to be an expert in that regard in the slightest. Perhaps this was the lunar cycle of this place? It did contain an eclipse in its design, after all. Or were those different heavenly bodies since some of them were different sizes? He… he didn't know.

But regardless, It was comfortable if not exceedingly cold. He hadn't noticed how chilly it had been until now, but now it was the only thing he could notice. There was no breeze, but the lack of any additional clothing actually chilled him greatly. Perhaps he should have asked why he’d needed to change clothes. He'd just assumed that there was a reason and gone from there, but now he was having second thoughts. At least it looked nice. And it closed with a built-in tie at the waist. 

Now that he looked at it, it actually had a somewhat visually striking design. And it had a rather vintage feel to it. It was mildly to his liking. Not the sort of thing he would have picked for himself, but certainly the sort of thing he would be pleased with if he'd been gifted it.

And in a strange way, he almost felt like he was in a hospital gown awaiting surgery… 

“What should I expect?” No one answered. Be it out of a lack of a desire to, instructions not to do so, or as a result of not realizing he was speaking to them, he couldn't be sure. But the uncomfortable self-awareness that came with the silence that settled over the room after he'd spoken was enough to render him silent for the time being.

Sirrus winced internally at the silence he received as an answer, crossing about half of the distance between him and V so that he could stand a few feet from him. Was this an inappropriate time to mention that he looked nice in the robe? Probably so.

“I wish I could tell you but…”

“You're as in the dark about this as I am, aren't you?” V said softly, a very apparent air of anxiety and unease creeping into his tone with every passing word that he spoke. He clasped his hands together in front of himself, pulling his shoulders inward as he allowed his eyes to fall down towards the floor at a slight angle, his head barely moving. He was uncomfortable. Deeply so. And Sirrus could see it in every fiber of his being. He radiated unease.

“Essentially,” Sirrus confessed, unsure as to what else he could really say. “I can only vouch for my own personal experience, and none of mine were anything like… this. They were… ” 

Sirrus seemed to be struggling to figure out a way to articulate his thoughts, his mind running a thousand different places at once. He didn't want to say anything that would heighten his beloved companion's anxieties about what he was about to face, but he also refused to lie to him. That was something he never did if he could help it. V counted on his transparency, openness, and honesty. And he wasn't lying now. But he was acutely aware of the fact that his lack of ability to tell him basically anything about what he was about to experience was the least reassuring thing possible. And the only thing he wanted to be right now was comforting. It… pained him not to be. He wanted to step across the room and scoop V into his arms to physically shield him from everything else going on around him.

It felt like a failure on his part. He had stood where V stood and felt some semblance of what he now felt. He knew what it felt like to not have someone to speak with about something like that. The vulnerability one experienced when standing in a room full of people who they needed to trust but didn't know. To feel adrift in a space so unfamiliar and inhospitable. The mind was truly the worst horror there was, and lingering on possibilities when preparing to face the unknown was not a healthy route to take.

There was so much he wanted to say to V. So much that he wanted to do to ease his quiet suffering. But as things stood, he wasn't sure if his ideas would be of help to him or only serve as a hindrance. The young summoner needed to keep his mind clear. He didn't want to burden him or confuse him with anything by accident.

But at the same time, V needed an anchor. He hadn't said as much -or said much of anything for that matter- since they'd left the previous room and been brought here, but he'd noticed. Sirrus couldn't help but notice. 

V looked like a scared, cornered kitten facing down a large predator. If it were possible, he'd fold his ears down like one, too. And he couldn't say that that analogy was far off, either. The task that loomed before him was as unknowable as a creature of prey stalking through the darkness. The only difference was that instead of retreating to fight another day he had to step into that darkness and face it where there would be no going back.

“Miserable but mostly unrelated to the task at hand?” V said with a tone so darkly expectant that it could only come from someone certain they were correct. And he was.

It actually took Sirrus a second to realize that V was finishing his statement for him. Or at least attempting to predict what he might say. His sudden silence probably came off as a lack of knowing what to say. As stunned silence. It was actually strangely touching to him in an unexpectedly sad way that even in his current situation, V was still trying to help him in little ways. Insignificant though they might be.

Sirrus nodded. That was a way of putting it. And he couldn't claim that it was incorrect by any meaningful measure. And for the first time since he'd entered the room, he noticed something in that moment of unbroken silence between them. Something that thing became simultaneously aware of in that instant. Their company had filtered out of the room, leaving just the two of them to speak in silence. No one had said a word. They'd simply left. They still had a little time to speak before they began. Aside from that, they were ready to proceed, at least physically.

“You’ve hit the nail on the head yet again,” Sirrus said, reaching over to place his hand gently on his friend's shoulder. V looked down at the floor for a moment, closing his eyes as he allowed his companion's gaze to fall onto him at close range. He just… couldn't look him in the eye right now. He wasn't sure why.

Looking up again, his eyes drifted almost lazily to the small round balcony only a short distance from them. The doors have been left open, perhaps to let in air. The adjudicator's eyes followed his gaze as v took a single step towards his new intended description, knowing that he didn't have to ask Sirrus to follow him. He simply understood. With a soft, knowing nod Sirrus removed his hand and opted to just follow him as he walked across the room and out onto the small space. Maybe fresh air would do them some good.

V wasn't a fan of heights, but there was something about this particular view that was so strange that it didn't even fully register to the part of his brain that would normally run in terror from such things. This place couldn't make up its mind as to whether or not it wanted to be dark or light out. Day and night were simply too much to ask for in a place like this. Maybe it was like some places in the world where you had one or the other for months at a time. Maybe it was always like this. He hoped to never know firsthand. He didn't want to be here any longer than he needed to be. The sense of wonderment he'd felt only earlier that day when he first set his eyes upon the place had evaporated, and only vague feelings of dread and homesickness remained.

He missed the view from Sirrus's cozy apartment. He missed the serene beauty of nature. The quiet of the early morning lake the morning he'd arrived with Sirrus. He missed the little street he lived on where nothing ever happened. Kyrie and Nero’s cozy little dining room with mismatched cushions on every chair. Magnolia's cozy little townhouse. Hell, V even missed Dante's office. Broken glass, loud music, and all. Even Nico’s questionable driving skills behind the wheel of the van.

He… wanted to be anywhere but this place. Anywhere away from here.

And he knew that there was nothing keeping him in this place but himself, but that was the point, wasn't it? He needed to be here. There was a point where “need” removed choice. And he was choosing to be here to avoid the eventuality where that line was crossed. Because he didn't want to wait till it was that bad. Not again. If they thought they could help him get to the bottom of this, and Sirrus had pulled the strings that he’d pulled to get him here, then he wasn't going to walk away without a fight. You needed to throw at least one punch before he could live with himself for walking out of the ring.

Sitting down on the flagstone ground beneath himself, the young descendant of Sparta reached up and brushed his hair out of his right eye, his gaze a thousand miles away: settled on something so far away that he couldn't see it. He wasn't sure that there was anything else out there, even if that had been implied. In that way, perhaps this place was no different from the rest of the world. Just a vast structure floating in a void for reasons beyond his comprehension or control. But this wasn't the rock floating in the nebulous void that he was used to. He wanted to return to that one. He could never get used to this place.

He ignored how cold the stone was to his bare feet. It was clean. Cleaner than any outdoor surface he'd ever touched. He was subconsciously grateful for the thin robe they'd given him. He wouldn't have frozen to death without it, but he imagined the backs of his legs and thighs would go to sleep from the cold. This was… something.

Sirrus joined him after a minute or so. He hadn't wanted to crowd him out. He needed time to think. Time he was rapidly losing. But with nowhere better to go, the red-haired man settled down beside him, still giving him the space he needed but still close enough to touch should V wish to do so for any reason.

He wondered if he should tell him. Tell him how lost he looked sitting there on that balcony feigning a sense of ease and acceptance toward the path laid out in front of him. Tell V that he wasn't going anywhere.

“I don't know if I've ever told you this, but I died once. Not so long ago, in fact.”

Sirrus's reaction was one of dignified, reserved horror. His face barely shifted at all but his breath stilled like he'd just had all the air kicked out of him. As he attempted to absorb the weight of what he'd just been permitted to know, so many questions arose from seemingly nowhere. V could practically see the sparkle of concerned perplexment in his eyes; the undeniable urge to ask him what had happened. He even parted his lips slightly. But he possessed just enough self-control not to cross that line, despite the fact that V didn't mind if he did. Sirrus was obviously fearful that he would push his companion further than he was willing to go. Sirrus had no way of knowing how far was too far, but intuition told him when he was approaching the edge.

“You haven't. No.” He spoke in hushed, breathless tones as though it just run down his spine. Perhaps it had. “I think I would remember a thing like that.”

V nodded a single time. He couldn't argue with that. It was a memorable revelation. “You weren't going to ask?”

Sirrus produced a gesture somewhere between a head shake and a shrug, raising his shoulder slightly while also tilting his head from side to side a handful of times, his palms rolling to face upward as he gave him a soft look.

“I was going to let you tell me what you thought I needed to know.” He admitted. He would be lying to say that he wasn't very morbidly curious, but he knew there were simply some questions you didn't ask someone, especially when they were being candid with you during a vulnerable moment. “You've never led me astray thus far, but I didn't want to push, mo chara daor.”

“What… does that mean? What you just said.” V said softly, giving him a peculiar look. By his recollection, that was the second time he'd heard that phrase today, but he didn't know what it meant. It rolled off the tongue beautifully when his friend said it, but he wasn't going to try that for even a second.

“My dearest friend. It's Irish Gaelic. A beautiful language I don't hear spoken enough anymore. I think I speak it sometimes out of fear that I might forget it. It's not my native tongue but… ” Sirrus took a moment to reminisce about a time long since passed, something distant in his silver eyes as he allowed his head to rest on his shoulder and his bent elbow on his slightly raised thigh. “I can stop saying that if you’d prefer.”

V looked at him in utter silence. It wasn't a cold silence, and there wasn't even a drop of anger left in him by this point to even direct towards anything, so it was neither of those things, but there was still a glimmer of something. And after about a minute he let out a soft sigh, blinking slowly before opening his eyes again, even if they were only open about halfway.

“Please… never do that,” V said with utter seriousness. There was an unmistakable softness to his tone, and that same somewhat sad glimmer remained in his eyes that had been there moments before, but there was just something so genuinely in his tone that it took Sirrus off guard. “Something in my heart flutters every time you share bits and pieces of something you love with me. Perhaps it's just the poet in me. I've always loved the romantic quality of language. The beauty of what we express with sounds and symbols on parchment. I never want something so beautiful to die, and words live as long as you use them. So keep using them. Enough beautiful things die before their time.”

“V… ” He honestly didn't know what to say to that. What words to use to surmise how touched he was by that sentiment? It was just… “I… Yes. You're absolutely right.”

In his time he'd seen that very thing happen over and over again. More rapidly in more modern times. He feared the day that the list of languages narrowed down to single digits and everything else faded to the folklore of textbooks and old documents in museums like the languages of yore already had. The passage of time was brutal. But I hope that this was one thing that would never come to pass.

“I'll tell you more about what I brought up before… later. I just wanted to say that… I'm glad that I met you, Sirrus.” V looked over at him with sincerity and fondness. There was no questioning for even a moment whether or not he meant the words he'd just spoken as he slowly stood up, clutching his robe to himself as the breeze picked up and whipped it around him, Sirrus standing with him half to see what he was doing and half in case he needed him. It might as well have been carved in crystal. He treasured their… whatever this was. Was this what friendship was like? He liked it. “I'd die again if I had to just to know you. I genuinely would.” 

Sirrus blinked in surprise. Genuinely touched surprise, but surprise nonetheless. When had things become so dire? There was never a dull moment with V, was there? But he wouldn't complain. Or disagree. He was… what were even the right words to use to describe it?

“And I'm privileged to know you. To share space with you. To be your friend.”

No. That wasn't all he could say on the matter. All that he needed to say. All that he meant to say. And although he still couldn't say all of it now, it was something he did need to say. He stood just a bit closer, ignoring the slight sting of the cold air. He could only imagine how cold V must feel right now. He reached out and placed his hand on V’s upper arm. Not that he could tell much by its circumference. Sometimes he forgot how much of a string bean V was. But he didn't move to hold him in place or even really grip him. Just to reassure him that he was there.

“It's funny. Back on the boat when Gustave made his joke. I wasn't embarrassed because Gustav was incorrect. I was embarrassed because I hadn't realized until then how easy I was to read. How utterly... Sentimental I've become over the years. How obviously my affections towards those I care for might be to others.” Sirrus chuckled gently, a low rumble reverberating from within his chest. He shook his head as he half closed his eyes, almost amused by himself. He had to look rather silly, didn't he? With his red hair whipping around them both as they stood there like idiots in the freezing cold. It was normally just past the bottom of his shoulder blades lengthwise. Maybe he should cut it soon. “That was something I was always taught to hide. Shamed for. That for me to care for someone was to harm them because to know me was pain. I don't think that anymore. I haven't for a while now. You disapprove that every time we interact. But I've still been afraid to care about anyone, myself included. To trust. I think all of us just want to be known. I feel known with you.”

V didn't say anything. He just blinked rapidly, a certain pain in his eyes that was hard to name. He clearly hadn't expected Sirrus to say that. And rather it be from the stinging wind in his eyes or the wave of genuine warmth he felt flood him from Sirrus’s words, he felt a few stray tears roll down his face. But he wasn't sad, not in the way that would cause this. So he did the only thing he could do.

He stepped forward and threw his arms around his friend, just as happy to be near him as he was scared to go through with this plan. He pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face into his chest as he wrapped his arms around his upper back.

Sirrus let out a slow, soft breath, chuckling softly. He couldn't tell if V felt better, but he didn't feel worse, so he could live with that. He tucked his arms under V’s, hugging him along the length of his back and pulling him in closer, quietly hoping that he didn't break his back or something. Embracing him tightly. This certainly satiated his desire to shield him from his troubles for at least a little while. This was… this was nice. He liked this. They both did.

“The bird a nest, the spider a web. Man friendship.” V said in a muffled tone, his face still tucked into Sirrus's chest. He loosened his grip but was not quite ready to let go. He wanted to get this over with but also didn't want to move from this spot. It was a strange, hellish situation to be in. And although Sirrus couldn't pinpoint where that quote had come from, he had a hunch.

Just as the two of them finally realized that their arms were starting to get tired, there was a small knock at the door. A knock that neither of them was especially excited to hear, frankly. They knew it was coming eventually, but still.

“I think that's the door. It's time.” Sirrus said as they released one another, V fixing his robe. The sleeves had shifted and the front hadn't been tied quite as tightly as he'd thought. There was no need for Sirrus to see him undressed more than once in their lifetimes. “I'll walk you over and stay while you're there. I'm not going anywhere.”

V nodded somewhat hesitantly, traces of that same nervousness making their way back into him as he willed himself forward. This was something else could do. He had to. But at least he wouldn't be alone. He never would be so long as Sirrus was there  And that brought him some small measure of peace.

“Let's get this over with. I just hope it doesn't hurt.” V said as Sirrus walked him towards the door and into the custody of their host. He'd had enough of that for one day, thank you. If he could get through the rest of the night without any further suffering, he would be extremely grateful.

(-~-)

I'm not crying, you're crying! Ugh, I love these two. If only I wasn't so terrible at writing romance I would write a romance fluff spin-off of these two just for shits and giggles. Lol, fanfiction of my fanfiction! Someone do something with these two losers! Maybe I will still try one of these days because I find them equally compelling as both friends and otherwise because they are JUST. SO. WHOLESOME. *Ugly dramatic crying.*

Ahem. So anyway… It feels good to be back! I hope you liked the chapter! Sorry for any spelling errors. Autocorrect has been pretty aggressive recently on Google Docs, and I did part of this on my phone while I was resting in bed, so I hope I caught everything. I'll be posting another chapter on Friday, March 1st, 2024! Look forward to it! I hope you have a wonderful week and I'll see you in the comments and on Discord if you're hanging out over there! Thank you for reading and I'll see you all soon! Thank you again for everything! Bye bye!

[sanguine-law]

@exorciiistt | prev

「 Send ❔ to find my muse wandering the streets completely lost and without any memory┆Accepting┆@sanguine-law 」

When he had woken up, something had felt off. There was no memory of how he had ended up at that place nor what had happened prior. Everything was just a huge blur to the Exorcist. The clothes he was wearing and the bag with him didn't give him any hints on who he was or where he was. So he did the only, to him, logical thing he could think of which was to grab what seemingly belonged to him and wander outside onto the streets with the hopes of finding something that he might recognize. As he was walking around, looking at different buildings and people, he wasn't paying this much attention to the way in front of him, which caused him to bump right into someone. Aesop took a few steps back, before giving the stranger in front of him a confused but interested look. " I'm.... I'm very sorry.... " He mumbles quietly. His anxiety had been at an all-time high with how little information he had about himself and his situation and this wasn't make anything better really. He tries to think if he perhaps knows the person in front of him but gives up quickly when he notices that there was no use. " Can... can you tell me where I am?" Aesop asked anxiously.

Joseph had been out just a little early, getting a cup of hot chocolate from a shop on the way to the courthouse. He'd just barely stepped out and taken a drink when something bumped him. At first, Joseph thought it was someone's pet since people usually wouldn't approach him unless it was for an article.

But when he looked, he saw it was neither. It was Aesop.

And the poor man was more anxious than usual. Joseph couldn't help but arch an eyebrow.

Then Aesop asked where he was. "You're near the center of the city, right outside my favorite drink shop. The courthouse is just to the north."

Why was he so anxious? Why was he talking like they'd just met? Aesop had stopped acting this scared of the judge weeks ago. And he'd started walking more confidently around the city as time went on. Why was he acting so... new?

Had Aesop done something, perhaps, illegal? Or was something else gnawing at him?

A little more cautiously, "Don't you remember, monsieur? Surely you didn't get lost, you've been here for months already."