#(i Will Not be providing a link so that will have to stay blank)
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Drawn Together 5
Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.
Character: Steve Rogers
Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Your phone rings, shaking you from your trance. You haven't moved since you locked the door and ran upstairs. You sit on the sofa, one leg hooked tightly over the other as you bite your cheek and twine your hands around your knee.
You pry your fingers apart and stand. Each step is shaky and unsure. A branch brushes the window and you flinch, turning to gape at the pane. You watch the leaves wave in the breeze. The phone quiets as it rolls to voicemail.
The lull is brief as it once more begins to chime and you rush to grab it from beside the radio. You answer in a quaver, barely able to get your words out.
"Hello?"
"Hi," a lilted accent flows through the line.
"Hello, Marguerite," you reply, "how are you?"
"Yes, uh, I would like to let you know that Henri will not be attending his lesson tonight."
"No? I hope everything is okay," you toy with the edge of the doily beneath the retro radio.
"Oui, very okay," she drones, "it is only an unexpected circumstance. You take care, mademoiselle."
"I wi–"
The line clicks before you can finish. You have a bad feeling. That's so odd. Another blank space in the ledger.
You shake your head and curl your fingers around the phone as you pace. You hope it's just a coincidence.
You're jittery and you just can't stay still. You can still hear the way his voice sunk low. His words jumble together but his timbre remains, haunting your mind.
Your phone pings and an email bubbles up. Someone has reviewed your posting. You open your inbox and click on the link.
'Paid for lessons. Turned away due to discrimination. DO NOT PAY THIS SCAMMER.'
There is no name, just 'anonymous.' Oh, this is why you hate the internet. It's too much drama.
You know it's him. What you don't expect is the next comment.
'Very disappointed to hear. I will be discontinuing my son's attendance at once.'
You feel breathless as you lean on the table and place the phone flat. You drag your finger down as a new comment appears.
'My son was unable to attend his lesson today as there was a strange man hanging around screaming. The teacher does not provide a kid-safe environment. Do not bring your children here.'
Caroline at least has the nerve to sign her name. You don't understand. They know you. They know they can trust you.
She saw this crazy man and her reaction is to blame you. Typical. It's just like college. Just like that time. The incident you don't think about.
You login and go to your settings. You close the posting, not wanting any more rancor. You don't know what you're going to do. Go to the bank and talk to someone about your savings. You held onto your inheritance for a reason, right?
You leave your phone on the table and stride through the archway to the music room. You graze your fingers over the ivory keys before shutting the lid. No music today. You couldn't play if you tried.
You wish your grandfather was here to tell you what to do. To say in his gentle tone that it'll be okay. But you don't think it will be.
🎹
It's midnight. The old hanging clock ticks on the wall as you lay in silence, the fan blowing over you in the night's damp warmth. Rain falls but not hard enough to take the thickness from the air, only stirring it further.
You keep a sheet across your body, pulled over your stomach as you stare at the ceiling. You can't sleep. Usually you fall asleep before ten but tonight, you just can't close your eyes.
The scratching of the branch on the window keeps you alert, every creak, every groan of the walk up has you on edge. The hum of the fridge, the drone of the pipes, all those familiar are suddenly frightful.
You exhale and twiddle your fingers against your stomach. You aren't going to sleep. You know it.
You sit up and rub your forehead. Camomile. That always helps. You remember how your grandfather had a cup each night. You kept a package around just for the memory.
You get up and tug the cotton gown away from your figure as it clings to your sweat. Your steps creak down the hallway and you emerge in the shadows of the music room, a darkness clustering beyond the stairs. An eerie tingle crawls up your arms.
You stop as you notice the curtains pushed to the very edge of the rod. You closed that window, you’re sure of it. Just like every night, you went over your routine.
Windows, door, everything locked up tight, except for the bedroom. You kept the pane halfway up, no more, no less. Just enough to let in the air.
You tiptoe over and look outside. You see the tree looming and hear the crickets. There's nothing, no one there.You pull down the frame and flip the latch.
You stay there for just a minute and watch the moonlight flicker through the foliage. It's getting to you. You're forgetting things. Important things.
You back away and go into the kitchen. As you enter, there's a click. You peer around, turning slowly in place. You flick on the light above, the bulb casting amber through the glass shade.
You see nothing but what you expect. The silver fridge, the brown counters, the pantry door, and the small square table with its for handbuilt chairs. You go to the stove and put the kettle onto the burner as you crank the knob.
You stand at the stove and wait. The anxiety winds inside your stomach as you pick at your nail and bite your cheeks. What can you do? You can hand out flyers? Maybe find a different place to post?
Ugh it's all such a mess and because of him. A stranger! You don't know him. Why does he care so much?
You hate to judge someone by their looks but you should've known from the start he was trouble. You did, you just didn't want to accept that. You didn't want to have a mean thought.
The kettle begins to shake and you watch the steam plume from the spout. You remove it to keep it from whistling and you take out a cup and packet of tea. The simple steps ease your addled nerves.
You pour the hot water over to steep the bag and retreat with your cup to the table. You sit and tap your fingers on the trim of the placemat. The old woven things fray along the edge, the embroidered berries fading into the grey.
You drop your head into your hands and sigh. Maybe you need a break. Dip into your nest egg and figure things out.
You prefer monotony but life doesn't go according to plan. That's the sole lesson you took from your grandfather's death. Nothing lasts forever.
This won't either, right?
🎹
You're awakened by a crash. You sit up and let out a gritty yelp. You roll out of bed, tangled in the sheets and off balance.
It's still dark out. You barely remember going back to bed. Your head is fuzzy and your lashes crusty from the depth of your slumber.
You let the sheet drape down to the floor as you stumble to the doorway. You notice the flowers on the floor, the vase in pieces in a puddle of water. The window is open again.
You rush over and shove down the window without a thought to the shards at your feet. You lock it and stagger away, narrowly missing the glass with your sole. You turn, squinting in the dark as you find your way back to the kitchen.
The pantry door is open. You swallow as you turn on the light again, bracing yourself for some villain to emerge. The glow reveals no monster waiting among the dry goods.
You go forward to slam the door shut. You lean on it and peek at the small clock that ticks above a vintage barometer. It's barely 2am.
Your heart pumps loudly as you go to the table where your empty cup still sits. You must've forgotten to take it to the sink. You pick it up and an unexpected weight lingers at the bottom.
You peer past the brim and see the item inside. The crumpled head of a poppy. It seems one of those left in the road in Steve's anger. But how did it get there?
Is this a dream? If it is, why can't you wake up.
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#drabble#dark drabble#dark!drabble#series#drawn together#mcu#marvel#captain america#tattoo au#au
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Are you good? Yeah. Yeah, we got you covered out here. Wherever you go, we go. Well, that's comforting, but I meant, like, are you good? Do you mean do I miss you already? No. I'm fine. You are such a jerk.
| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION
5.21 - Going Under
Covering Lucy's first days undercover through her conversations with Tim is simply brilliant. Instead of focusing on the isolating side of covert operations, this montage actually emphasises how these two find ways to stay in touch… to hold space for the other, through phone calls that sound like love letters, that serve as a bond between them…
And that's the beauty of this scene : it underlines the importance of verbal communication. They can't rely on their usual shorthand here. They can't just guess what the other is thinking with only a look. They have to say things aloud. And that constant dialogue brings out so many things to the surface.
Like how truly different their relationship is. From Tim and Isabel's marriage, that was plagued by miscommunication and secrecy as her recent return pointed out. Or from Sava and Jake's relationship, that was based on lies and deceit.
Both Lucy and Tim make a point to constantly check-in with each other here. Right from the start, she asks him point blank how he is doing, recognising his deflection. His little smile when she asks him that… The fondness behind it… His little joke about not missing her and Lucy calling him a jerk… This is so reminiscent of their usual dynamic and they both need this semblance of normalcy. But mostly, it shows how they really pay attention to the other.
They make the most of their limited time, discussing the mission as well as personal matters. Like when Lucy asks him to keep an eye on Tamara or to wait for her return to watch Top Chef… Or when she wonders if he ever wishes he had a normal job, one where he wouldn't get shot - talk about foreshadowing by the way… Those are the type of conversations they would normally have. Being undercover doesn't change that : they might be separated by this op, but they're not shutting out the other either. Those little conversations that may seem insignificant are their way of staying connected to each other. The contrast with the previous montage of Lucy sending short text messages to Nyla when she was undercover as Nova couldn't make this clearer.
That's why having Tim as her link to the 'real world' is perfect. It may not be Lucy's first undercover op but it is the first time since they started dating. Tim acting as her case officer gives them both a bit of a preview to what their future might entail, while easing them both to it. It's a way for him to be directly involved in Lucy's op. Besides, no one knows her better than him and she trusts him more than anybody else. And it also provides her with a lifeline, an anchor, the comfort of knowing he's close by.
But mostly, this is what forces them to address the elephant in the room. They are both aware of the potential conflict undercover work could create, something that Lucy tried to bring up a couple of times already. But they need to go through one mission to fully grasp how important transparency is - especially Tim. The fact that this op happens right after the return of their doppelgängers and Isabel gives them the opportunity to learn from their errors… to learn from the past.
It was important that these two got to fully enjoy their honeymoon period, to solidify their relationship first. So that instead of worrying on how it could tear them apart, they can concentrate on how they can make it work : by communicating, by being transparent with each other. That's the ingredient that was missing in the other relationships. And this scene introduces wonderfully that last act, when they finally voice their fears and feelings. They spent the whole mission finding ways to stay in touch, to communicate with each other and that allows them to finally confront the issue.
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Pedro Pascal Character Fanfiction Recs | Vol 31
AO3 | Kofi | Main Masterlist | The Spreadsheet Masterlist
Howdy folks!
New blog theme, new TSD format. Do we like it? Welcome to volume 31 of The Spreadsheet Digest, my weekly(ish) fic rec post. From now on I'll link my personal stuff plus the masterlist where you can find the actual spreadsheet, my fic rec masterlist, and info about how to appear on this list in the future.
All info provided by the author unless it was blank, in which case I filled it in.
Fic Recs Below!
Freeze-thaw
Joel one shot by @covetyou
Summary: With your holiday plans ruined when a freak snow storm blows through town, you spend the fesitve period holed up with your partner, Joel Miller, learning exactly how warm you can keep each other in the snow.
Tags: no outbreak, fluff, smut, fingering, playing in the snow, temperature play, Joel probs has super bad circulation, established relationship but it's their first Christmas together and reader has some relationship insecurities
This Barbie Likes Objectification
Joel one shot by @walkintotheriveranddisappear
Summary: after a fun date seeing Barbie with joel, he realizes a certain scene involving brainwashed barbie dolls has inspired some nasty desires in you. he's more than willing to help you explore them.
Tags: explicit sexual content (18+), no specified ages (but obviously both adults), objectification, degradation, humiliation kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, dom!joel, sub!reader, slight spoiler for the Barbie movie
Patience
Javi P one shot by @foli-vora
Summary: Javier teaches you to be patient
Tags: smut: fingering, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap that willy before getting silly), creampie, restraints/use of handcuffs, orgasm denial, smoking, swearing
Stay Close to Me
Jack one shot by @alwaysbethewest
Summary: You're a rookie agent sent to work undercover with Jack as a married couple!
Tags: Fake/undercover marriage! Statesman casefic! A little romance, kissing, coarse language, very mild peril and hurt/comfort, and a splash of alcohol. Reader is a junior agent and has some muscle but otherwise no physical/age descriptions. As with any good Kingsman fic, my first step was to disregard half of canon, so this is either pre-movie or an AU.
No Me Suletes
Frankie one shot by @fhatbhabie
Summary: Even though he's bad for you, you still can't let him go.
Tags: Marcus Pike cameo, smut, unprotected p in v, talks of oral, angst angst angst!!, being left at a chapel, cheating, death of a spouse, drug use (buggar sugar) , smoking cigarettes, asshole!Frankie, spanish dialect w/ translations, no use of Y/N, cute pet names, splash of fluff for 2 seconds, someone having a stroke with a small description, no happy ending
Poolside
Javi G one shot by @joelscruff
Summary: just some fun by the pool with sugar daddy!javi
Tags: blowjobs, deepthroating, brief ball worship, daddy kink, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, bad google translate spanish, sweat
"Din"scord Kitten
Din one shot by @beskarandblasters
Summary: When bounty hunting doesn’t work out anymore Din has to turn to alternative methods to support himself.
Tags: this is a crack fic lmao, Discord/Venmo/Dr. Pepper existing in Star Wars, bad sexting, dick pics, masturbating, bad Star Wars puns, sex work, cummies needs its own warning 😭, pet names (cyar’ika), oral sex (M receiving), cum eating, no use of y/n
Another Time, Baby
Joel one shot by @swiftispunk
Summary: joel makes good on a promise.
Tags: established relationship, porn no plot, smut, age gap (28/50), unprotected anal sex, vaginal fingering, use of a butt plug, joel miller eats ass and pussy and also has a big dick, some affectionate spanking, creampie, cum play (eating and sharing), a little bit of spit, just a lot of bodily fluids all around, one (1) poetic description of a queef, joel miller's filthy mouth, pet names, ysd!joel at his most soft dom, joel's also kind of feral in this, multiple orgasms, sweet sweet aftercare, pov swap. no use of y/n.
Suburbia (I gave it a lil name, sorry).
Lucien drabble by @julesonrecord
Summary: You can't stay away from him, nor do you really try
Tags: Explicit; angst; oral (m receiving); implied infidelity; past relationship. Suburbia (shudder).
Misunderstood
Marcus P one shot by @magpiepills
Summary: Marcus has a bad day at work and needs you to help him feel better.
Tags: SMUT, established relationship, PIV, oral (f and m receiving) fingering, big dick Marcus, multiple orgasms, thumb sucking, cum eating, cum swapping, Marcus eats it from behind, dirty talk, roughish sex, some degradation, tiny little splash of daddy, porn with no plot, no regard for canon, use of a tie as a leash sort of?, alcohol consumption, pancakes, cardigans, NPR, idk what else man, this is not fluffy Marcus.
Wrest Pin
Din series by BalletOrchard (AO3)
Summary: “I can help you escape the planet,” Mando said sharply, “But I want information in return.” She looked up at him through the small hairs on her face and she whispered, sounding almost lost…As if she didn’t know what else to say… “I have no information.” Something Mando did not believe.
Tags: panic attacks, force sensitive!reader, unprotected PinV sex, smut, mando is a dick, angst, slow burn (romantically), touch starved!din, bickering, arguing, post season 1, fluff, ofc!evangeline, she like doesn’t get off the first time they fuck which i feel like is worth noting, feelings of regret, minor character death (evangeline’s whole fam), follows canon, mando lowkey keeping evangeline against her will but like she’s hiding from the empire so, near death experience(s), the helmet comes off, oral f receiving, blindfolding, shower sex
A Weight Off Your Shoulders
Joel series by @gasolinerainbowpuddles
Summary: a series of oneshots in chronological order that follow the story of Joel and his new neighbor who returns to Texas following a devastating breakup and called off engagement. With her life completely uprooted and her self-confidence shot, she works through moving on to bigger and better things. Enter DILF neighbor Joel Miller.
Tags: age gap (Joel mid 40s, neighbor late 20s), cheating, negative body image, negative self-talk, discussions of body image struggles
The Peg That Middle Aged Man Campaign 2024 Masterlist
Call for Pegging Fics!
PMAMC on AO3
Trussed Up - I pegged Jack Daniels
Happy Reading!
#fic recs#the spreadsheet digest#fanfiction recommendations#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#ppcu fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction
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Cardigan
Cardigan is a response to Falling, it was written 2 months after the Falling video was released. The videos have Haylor references. Falling is Harry is worried his muse will never need him again. Cardigan is assuring him their muse-friend-situationship is OK. The voice note has different lyrics:
youtube
Living in a gold age
Sneak into my birdcage
Laughing like a damn fool
Breaking every damn rule
Peter leaving Wendy
The Dancing in your Levi’s line was in place of leaving like a father
I knew you’d linger like a stolen kiss
I knew I’d wish you’d have changed your mind
I knew the love would be for me to loose my mind
The original lyrics also have even more Haylor references:
Living in a gold age and sneak into my birdcage, I wish this stayed. Taylor has a birdcage in her Nashville apartment, Harry got a birdcage tattoo. See theme of gilded cages of fame and love.
Laughing like a damn fool, breaking every rule reminds me of Begin Again where he was "Laughing like a little kid" Harry also referenced Begin Again in the Falling Video.
Peter left Wendy rather than lost Wendy, such an interesting change when Taylor said she ended it in the 1989 Vault.
Stolen kiss is in Blank Space (Stolen kisses, pretty lies) and reminds me of Stolen Stares in Illicit Affairs
Finally links to I Wish you Would and Wonderland!
Taylor also provided foot notes for Cardigan, I have screenshots of more in the video post, in part say:
There's a collection of three songs I refer to as The Teenage Love Triangle (in my head). These three songs explore a summer love triangle from all three peoples perspectives at different times in their lives. It's like this one event happened in their town and it affected them each differently.
In the Long Pond Sessions, it is Betty's POV. Taylor said Betty winds up with James, 'but he really put her through it'. In the footnotes she also says she was "inspired by the feeling of isolation and how it can be freeing or terrifying and how it causes you to reminisce on the past." Indeed, we noticed. While all 3 of the triangle songs draw inspiration from HS/TS, Cardigan does so the most heavily.
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Vintage tee, brand new phone
High heels on cobblestones
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
Sequin smile, black lipstick
Sensual politics
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
The first verse sets a scene, which is very 1989-esq, cobblestones is either in New York or London, Harry wears a lot of vintage tees.
Sensual politics is a reference to the themes Taylor explored in Slut. Coupled with when you are young, confirms this song is in reference to Harry.
To me, sequin smile, black lipstick could be taken as a scene setter. I think it is directed at Harry in a few ways though:
In IDWLF Taylor was so taken with her glitter lip got it's own BTS where Taylor mentioned runway (Only Angel).
IDWLF is Haylor, it's with Zayn about losing the love of your life and not wanting to end up alone.
and Black lipstick reminds me of Reputation. In he refers to the Rep Aesthetic Little Freak and dreams.
[Chorus]
But I knew you
Dancin' in your Levi's
Drunk under a streetlight, I
I knew you
Hand under my sweatshirt
Baby, kiss it better, I
Dancin in your Levi's reminds both of Maroon's "Dancing in New York, No Shoes" where Harry is wearing black jeans, and Delicate's "Dark jeans and your Nikes, look at you"
The chorus retells of the fun they had, it shows their chemistry and slightly messy nighttime antics.
[Refrain]
And when I felt like I was an old cardigan
Under someone's bed
You put me on and said I was your favorite
I love this refrain, I love it so much, great imagery and so warm. It alo recalls Taylor feeling seen by Harry in dark times:
Delicate "This ain't for the best / My reputation's never been worse, so / You must like me for me", and
High Infidelity - Do you really wanna know where I was April 29th? /Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? / Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?
Here Taylor is returning the favor, with saying how important their connection is.
[Verse 2]
A friend to all is a friend to none
Chase two girls, lose the one
When you are young, they assume you know nothing
A friend to all was a common criticism laid on Taylor when the squad fell out of favor, I find it interesting here. Taylor directly refers to the events of Falling, though it's of note that in Cruel Summer she also had another beau.
To me the refrain of when you are young is referred to how young they were when they first dated, now around 30 they have held onto this connection.
[Chorus]
But I knew you
Playing hide-and-seek and
Giving me your weekends, I
I knew you
Your heartbeat on the High Line
Once in twenty lifetimes, I
Hide-and-seen reminds us of I Know Places “'Cause I, I know places we can hide”
When they dated, Harry and Taylor travelled to be together, during 1D days Harry would sometimes fly a day late to spend more time with Taylor. Weekends are also mentioned in Now That We Don’t Talk: “What do you tell your friends we shared dinners, long weekends with?” And It’s Nice To Have A Friend: “Feels like home, stay in bed the whole weekend.”
Heartbeat on the high line is a reference to New York, where they spent time together
Once in 20 lifetimes, refers to how rare it is to find someone so special and 20 (13+7) is in many Haylor songs.
[Bridge]
To kiss in cars and downtown bars
Was all we needed
You drew stars around my scars
But now I'm bleedin'
Kissing in cars is a reference to the theme of driving. Kissing in bars is similar to Delicate’s “Dive bar on the East Side, where you at? /Phone lights up my nightstand in the black /Come here; you can meet me in the back”
Two Ghosts has a similar line “Moon dances over your good side /And this was all we used to need”
You drew star around my scars but now bleedin’ means to me that HS helped her turn her scars into a good thing, helped her feel better. But now they are apart she is bleeding. There are a number of bleeding as feelings lyrics in: The 1 (never bleed never grow) Olivia (bleeding love), Cruel Summer (If I bleed you'll be the last to know) and Woman (you’re making me bleed). I feel like the bleeding is also connected to the War metaphor Taylor uses.
[Chorus]
'Cause I knew you
Steppin' on the last train
Marked me like a bloodstain, I
I knew you
Tried to change the ending
Peter losing Wendy, I
I knew you
Leavin' like a father
Running like water, I
And when you are young, they assume you know nothing
The last train is a Lyric (I stood right by the tracks / Your face in a locket) from Sad, Beautiful, Tragic on Red. Which was written in late 2011, the title is in the Video Footnotes.
To me bloodstain is a reference to This Love "This love left a permanent mark". In October 2023, a Harry Styles leak California, which refers to being in COVID lockdown in LA and kitten scratches included the lyric "Oh, it's you who left a mark on me"
Peter loosing Wendy, I love this lyric, it's brings imagery of them being young magical one of a kind people meant for each other but not being. A perfect new couple metaphor for them, and one I prefer to Burton/Taylor Mitchell/Nash (Can they've also used.
I find the leaving like a father line so sad, this reminds me of Seven.
[Verse 3]
But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss
I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs
The smell of smoke would hang around this long
'Cause I knew everything when I was young
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Chasin' shadows in the grocery line
I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired
And you'd be standin' in my front porch light
And I knew you'd come back to me
You'd come back to me
And you'd come back to me
And you'd come back
Tattoo kiss is the final line, (stolen being in the voice note). This reminds me of the mentions of marks and of course tattoos. It also reminds me of the Golden Tattoo in Dress..
The smell of smoke reminds us of “Slut!”: "Adorned with smoke on my clothes, lovelorn and nobody knows"
When the thrill expired reminds us of Question…?: Did you leave her house in the middle of the night? Did you wish you put up more of a fight?
Standing in my front porch reminds us of I wish you would, HYGTG
Come back to me reminds us of another Haylor Red song, Come Back, Be Here.
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evening hours
ok so hihi i'm back and down bad for dainsleif (as usual)
this is just a quick little idea i had while i was in the car so i wrote this down in a google doc and then pasted it here 😭😭
apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes, this isn't proofread so there may be a lot :/
anyways thank you for reading and have an amazing day <3
source for the art (i couldn't find the initial artist, i'm sorry) : @abimanyuputro on pinterest
warning! if you're uncomfortable with any of these topics, please don't read : cuteness to angst to comfort, implied overworking from reader but not really specified
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mood :
Lavoe - kept crystal castles but its only piano (link to spotify)
daniel.mp3 - 3am walk - slowed & reverbed version (link to spotify)
lil indo - the beach (instrumental/slowed/muffled) (link to spotify)
++++
The first time you saw him, you were intrigued.
He had a mysterious air about him, emphasized by that starry cloak of his that he never seemed to take off. Delicate blonde hair, outlining his features with smooth strands, poured like a golden waterfall from the top of his head, and his cyan eyes were sharp and cold, but you could sense a sort of sadness hidden deep in them whenever you made eye contact. This wasn't a Mondstadter, you knew that for sure. He didn't look like he was from any other region in Teyvat, too - you could only assume that maybe this gentleman had a very unique taste in clothing and was simply blessed with inhumane beauty. You didn't think that he'd keep visiting your café, though.
The second time you saw him, you were curious.
Curious about his mask that covered only half of his face. Curious about his clothing, his mannerisms, his reticent politeness. Curious about why he was here in Mondstadt at all, and for what reason he seemed to be staying here. His face was a blank, white dot in the crowd of regulars you'd see each day, an enigma, and this fact made you wonder. Where did he come from? Why was he so reserved? And, arguably most importantly - who was he, really?
The third time you saw him, you were friendly.
You struck up conversation about the gorgeous weather outside when you brought him his coffee. Of course, he agreed, saying that it was a perfect time to go for a walk in the Whispering Woods, where the overarching trees provided the perfect amount of shade from the sun, and your quick talk ended there. He thanked you with that same quiet civility before you left his table, but this time, it was accompanied by a barely noticeable smile dancing on his fair lips.
The fourth time you saw him, you were open.
Your conversations were getting longer and longer as the days went by. His previously guarded-off persona was crumbling, and it seemed that he was getting more comfortable talking to you (and maybe even simply being around you). His eyes grew softer when you approached, his tense hands relaxed. You liked this new version of him - a version that he seemed to be hiding from you before he knew you meant no harm, a version that finally felt like it could be honest with you. He would be welcome in the café after closing hours, and you would enjoy simply talking to each other over some tea and muffins about the various aspects of your lives. At times, these conversations would get deep, philosophical - you talked about the meaning of life, about fate. He seemed interested in these topics, to your relief. You never really had a person that you could talk to about this, as they either always changed the subject to something a little more "real", or ignored you altogether, but this man was different. You felt like he was an old friend despite never knowing his name.
The fifth time you saw him, you were a mess.
Everything in your life seemed overwhelming, endlessly crushing at this point. You closed the café early today in an attempt to have extra time to pour your emotions out through some good ole crying, but you forgot about the man, still sitting at a table, book in hand. When you didn't come to him after the clock struck 8:15 (the usual time you'd come over after putting all the cups to soak), he looked over at the counter. You weren't there.
He assumed that you had more duties to attend to, and kept reading, keeping one eye the counter while he was doing so. In fact, instead of being in the storage room, whose entrance was past the counter, you were leaning against it, trying desperately to not cry too loudly. Your hot tears stung as they rolled down your cheeks, but you didn't dare move to wipe them away. You didn't want him to see you in this sorry state.
Unluckily for you, he heard one of your short gasps for air. He immediately set his book down to come over to the counter, and lo and behold, you looked up at him, cheeks and nose reddened as he peered over the wooden surface in worry.
"Can I come behind the counter?" he asked in genuine concern, a tone which you had never heard him speak with.
You nodded, sniffling. You must look absolutely pathetic to him right now.
He walked with urgency to you, and knelt across from you on the floor. He took your hands in his as his cyan eyes met your bloodshot ones.
"Are you okay?"
At these soft-spoken words, the dam broke. Tears poured from your eyes like crystal-clear rivers, and you pulled your hands away from his to bury your face in them. You shuddered as you desperately tried to catch quick breaths of air, gasping, eyes screwed shut.
"Hey, hey," he muttered, trying his best to be reassuring. You felt his (rather large) hands cup your face, carefully pulling it upwards. His thumbs wiped away your still-running tears with gentle care.
"Shh. Breathe, just breathe. That's it."
In between sniffles and ragged breaths, you explained why you were in such a state. You were reluctant to tell him - after all, you didn't want him to think ill of you (or worse, to bear yet another burden on his shoulders. He was probably carrying a lot as it was, and you felt like it was unfair that he should carry your problems with him, too).
"I'm- I'm sorry," you said hoarsely. "For this whole thing. I should've just-"
"No. You shouldn't apologize, not for this," he reassured, "but thank you for being honest."
You nodded, blinking away the last of your tears.
"Please tell me if you need anything."
You chuckled, albeit pitifully. "Yeah, if you know how to magically erase all of my problems with a fairy wand or something."
"I'm being serious, y/n," he warned, but his lips betrayed him - their corners quirked up into a small smile.
"I'll be fine," you sniffed one last time, before standing up, at which he stood up with you. "I'll be okay."
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I am. I think, at least."
"Alright then."
He walked back to the table on which his book lay, and after retrieving it, he headed towards the door. Before he exited, however, he stole one last glance towards you, and cleared his throat.
"You'll tell me though, right?"
"About what?" you asked as you watered some plants on a windowsill.
"If you need anything."
You turned to face him, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, you really meant that?"
"Of course."
"Well... I am rather short on Mora."
A glare from the man made you freeze, and then you threw up your hands like you were at gunpoint (because you pretty much were at that point).
"Just kidding!" you laughed awkwardly, and in response, his gaze softened. "But no, there's nothing. I think all that crying cleared my head up a little bit, though. Thank you, truly."
He nodded, another smile gracing his elegant features, and walked out into the cold night air.
++++
#genshin imagines#writeblr#genshin x reader#dainsleif#dainsleif x reader#dainsleif x you#genshin dainsleif#i am literally so down bad for him omg#dain <33#dainsleif x y/n#dainsleif genshin impact#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#fanfic#dainsleif imagines
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Hi! Can you do a anakin x Jedi!reader and it’s set during the clone wars? Maybe anakin, ahsoka, reader, and her own padawan are on a mission?!
Sure! This was a challenging one for me in that I had to do a lot more research than I normally do for fics, but a welcome challenge for sure! I really hope you like this. Here is...
Emotion or Peace?
Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader One-Shot
WARNINGS: None
AO3 Link
“I understand your position, Senator,” you spoke slowly, trying not to clench your teeth in annoyance. “But if you would just allow the Republic a mining permit-”
“-you will loot Lothal of its natural resources and leave our citizens in an even more dire position,” Senator Azadi finished your sentence with a hard look. “Do you truly expect us to simply hand over the only wealth this planet has?”
You looked to Anakin for help and he cleared his throat, speaking up. “I’m sure the Galactic Senate will gladly provide any assistance-”
“Bah!” Azadi snorted, rolling his eyes. “We’ve been petitioning the Senate for aid for months now. Each time, we’ve been denied due to lack of funding. Don’t tell me the Republic has suddenly found currency reserves?”
“All available funding is going toward the war effort. There are funds, but none that can be diverted.”
“And what of the people who live in the Republic? Are they to starve while you fight some far-off war?” Azadi demanded. “The Outer Rim may not be a critical battleground, Masters, but that does not mean our people matter any less.”
“You’re right,” your padawan, Ezra, cut in quickly.
You shot him a warning glance, but he pretended not to see it and pressed on.
“You have something we need, and that gives you leverage. Tell us what aid Lothal requires, and we will bring your appeal to the Senate in exchange for the permits.”
You schooled your expression, trying not to reveal your irritation with your padawan. Anakin, sensing your vexation, brushed his hand against yours under the table.
Senator Azadi leaned back, eyeing Ezra thoughtfully before turning back to you. “When we receive the aid, I will issue the mining permits myself — and not a day before.”
You nodded. “Thank you, Senator.”
You rose with the rest of the delegation and bowed to the Lothalian Senate before exiting the room.
“That was a foolish move,” you chided your padawan when you returned to the ship.
“How so? We’re going to get the permits,” Ezra replied with a grin.
“Master, did you truly expect Senator Azadi to grant the permit without compensation?” Ahsoka chimed in.
“No, I didn’t,” you answered, shooting Ahsoka a sharp look. “I expected the Senator to counter our offer with one of his own, and then for us to counter that, and so on until we reached a compromise. That’s generally how negotiations work. Instead, Ezra undermined me, gave up all our bargaining power, and handed Azadi a blank check.”
“Oh.” At least your padawan had the decency to look embarrassed.
Ahsoka, on the other hand, merely shrugged. “We’re still getting what we wanted.”
“Snips, maybe stay out of this one,” Anakin advised in an amused tone. Shrugging again, she left the room.
“Ezra,” you said, tone softening. “You grew up on Lothal, right?”
He nodded bashfully, all traces of smugness having dissipated.
“Your love of your people influenced you to make an unwise bargain. A Jedi must discipline their mind to disregard any attachments. You know the Code: There is no emotion, there is peace. You must take those words to heart.”
You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “It is a difficult lesson to learn, and an even harder one to live by. But I have faith in you and your abilities.”
“Thank you, Master,” he said, giving a small smile in return before bowing and joining Ahsoka in the cockpit.
“You handled that well, Master,” Anakin commended, approaching you from behind when the door shut.
He wrapped his arms around you and you leaned back into his embrace.
“I’d be more inclined to agree with you if I didn’t feel like such a sanctimonious hypocrite,” you grumbled as he pressed a kiss against the crown of your head. “‘Disregard any attachments.’ Like I have any right to tell him that when I… when we…”
You trailed off as Anakin began to kiss down the side of your neck.
“You’re making it very hard for me to stew in my shame,” you sighed, turning around to face him.
He responded by pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then my plan is working.”
“Anakin Skywalker,” you gasped in faux shock. “Are you trying to distract me?”
“It depends,” he smirked. “Is it working?”
“A little too well,” you murmured, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss. He tried to deepen it, fingers curling into the fabric of your tunic as he pulled you flush against his chest.
Reluctantly, you broke free from his grasp. “We had better join our padawans before they get suspicious.”
“Later?” he asked, tugging you back in.
“Later,” you confirmed, pressing a final, loving kiss to his cheek.
Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker/reader#anakin skywalker#dearviper requests#anakin skywalker x jedi!reader#the clone wars#star wars#anon asks
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The Saga of Billy Boy Part 2 - Home
This part is also not a lot of kink, mostly build up. If you need it, here is a link to part 1.
- - - - -
I collapsed on the couch in the living room of my two bedroom apartment. I turned on the tv as I recounted the rest of my workday. I got Frank all set up with his computer, and he only farted a couple more times after that. He didn’t wink or anything like that again; he really didn’t even address them. Which makes sense if it’s a condition he’s dealt with for most of his life. We lightly chatted and he told me how he lives with his sister to help save on housing. Frank seemed tense talking about her, but I didn’t want to pry having just met him. We walked out together at the end of the day and parted ways in the parking lot. When Frank waved goodbye, he let out another fart; I guess his ass has enough manners to say goodbye as well.
I put my feet on the coffee table, as I flipped through streaming services to find something to watch. I checked my watch and decided to find something short since it wouldn’t be long before my boyfriend, Clay, got home. Clay and I had started dating a couple years prior and lived together for six months. We spent enough time together that we decided we were wasting money not living together. So we found this apartment. We didn’t really need a two bedroom, but the second bedroom might as well be a closet at its size. It’s just big enough to fit a small desk with our computer and a cot for the rare occasion a guest needs to stay the night.
I gave up on finding a show and decided to get on my phone. After clearing tedious notifications with no value, I find my way to Grindr. Like a lot of gay relationships, Clay and I are open. We have your typical boundaries, no hosting, open communication about partners, etc. Clay didn’t judge my fart fetish, but he certainly didn’t share it, so this provided an opportunity to experiment with my fantasies, while he was able to do the same.
As I opened the app, I saw a couple of notifications. The first was a message. “Looking?” from WntHd. I rolled my eyes as I deleted the message. Guys like that are also so vanilla. If I wanted to give head, I’d suck off Clay. I was typically exacerbated by using Grindr to find guys into farts. I even expanded my profile to have general dirty sub interests, but I still struggled to find guys that’d even consider farting on me, let alone be hot doing it. Even curious guys were too vanilla. Sure they’d fart on me, but they weren’t into it, so they didn’t know how to make it hot. I wanted a man naturally into forcing a subby bitch to smell his farts from the source. Wishful thinking.
At least, that's what I thought until I opened up the taps and saw a new one. The profile didn’t have a pic or title so I grumbled. Probably some stupid blank profile. I didn’t have a picture myself, but I had my stats, a title, and a bio, so there’s enough to build a mental picture, right? I click on the profile to see if there’s anything else to work with. There was nothing, but a brief bio that immediately caught my attention:
Hairy, thick dom looking for a boy to use. Preferred pleasures: pit and feet sniffing/licking, begging, degrading and humiliation role play, bondage, sniffing and licking gassy ass
I read the bio over and over with my mouth agape. This man sounded perfect. My fart fetish had led me to discover interest in feet and pits too, especially since they were more common. But this man had it all. I click on the message icon to send him a message. But as I hear Clay unlocking the front door, I decide to wait to start the conversation.
“Hey Babe! I’m home!” Clay called out to the apartment. I got up and walked over to Clay, wrapping my arms around him and planting a kiss on his lips. Clay had the most kissable lips on an incredibly handsome face. He kept his light brown hair short and face clean shaven. He had a muscular build, with a small gut that he hated. Though in his defense, he was larger when we met but he’s worked hard to lose weight. He’s come a long way but he still wishes he could lose a few more pounds.
“How was your day?” I asked him, pulling away to allow him to walk into the living room. Clay worked in sales for a book publisher.
“It was alright. Boss wanted my new project done today, but the editing department is taking forever. Apparently the author likes to work with his own set of grammar rules.” Clay said, falling into the couch with a beer he got from the fridge. I smile to myself knowing how gassy beer makes him. It’s an unfair joy, since Clay only really has a beer when he’s had a rough day.
“Sounds like you could use a backrub.” I flirtatiously proposed. I usually try to justify my enjoyment of his bad days by volunteering to give him a back rub. While he may not be into farts, he sure doesn’t hold them back while I’m rubbing his shoulders pressed up against his ass.
Clay gave me a knowing look. “Maybe after I have my second beer with dinner.” My cock twitches at the mention. He didn’t normally give me a lot in that regard, so I knew not to push it when he did, so I didn't react. Clay continued “How was your day, babe?”
I almost blushed as I thought back to Frank. “It was pretty good. The new intern I was telling you about started today. His name is Frank. Older than I expected, but he seems capable.” I decided not to tell Clay about Frank’s condition. He knows my fetish, and I wouldn’t want him to think I’m gonna become some constant horn dog at work.
“That’s great! I bet that’ll do wonders for your workload and it may even get Tony off your back.” Clay exclaimed.
“Yeah, I think he’ll be a lot of help.” I lied. I didn’t expect this new arrangement would be helping anything aside from my lust.
- - - - -
That night, I dream about my day at work. Tony introduces Frank to me just like he did this morning, only this time Brad was there. And, instead of Tony patting Frank’s back. Frank hikes up a leg and farts much longer and louder than he did this morning. “Man, that one was tearing me up!” Frank laughs.
“Good one!” Tony comments and gives Frank a high five.
“I bet I can match it!” Brad chimes in. He squats down a little and unleashes a fart just as magnificent as Frank’s. I look away like I did this morning and Tony notices.
“I think we may have grossed out Billy Boy over here.” Tony points out looking down on me. I notice at this point, I’m a bit shorter in the dream, at face height with Frank’s crotch.
“Of course not! Look at how hard his pecker is!” The four of us all look down as I realize I’m only in tighty whiteys. And although I have shrunk, my dick is much larger than normal and visibly pulsing. Tony and Brad burst out laughing, while Franks rips another beast of a fart.
I try to cover my crotch with my hands but they’re too small to cover up my now massive cock. As I feel shame from being exposed, I realize it’s growing.
“He likes humiliation, too! Billy Boy, you really are something, huh?” Tony laughed, wiping tears from his eyes.
“You’ve probably been sniffing the bathrooms after us all this time. So gross!” Brad exclaimed, clutching his chest with laughter.
“And there’s only one thing we do with dirty boys like you.” Frank said, menacingly as all three turned around and pointed their asses at my face. The last thing I remember before waking up was the barrage of smelly, gaseous fumes flowing over my face and the sound of unending farts and laughter from my colleagues.
-----
Want to know what happens next? Check out part three here!
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Pyewacket
Welcome to Bell, Book and Candle, the Store of Fantasy.
[pt: bell, book and candle,]
BLOG RULES: these are my boundaries. please do not disrespect them.
do not reblog/add my creations to mogai/liom archives. this is not a mogai blog, the only acception are when i post templates for my gender flags. nothing else here is made with the mogai community in mind.
none of my work is to be used by the radqueer or transx/id communities.
anyone is free to use my flags/terms and identify with them even if on my dni, so long as you are respectful, dont 'recoin/reclaim/reuse' my terms/flags for other purposes.
if a flag is excusive to a group and you are not part of that group do not use it.
im fine with people using my palettes for flags or anything else, just dont go claiming anything i posted here is yours.
i will block freely for my own comfort.
BEFORE YOU NTERACT: a few things to note.
im anti-endo, i stay away from discourse and would rather avoid any talk around "system origins" and the like. this blog is no space for that either
i do have a mogai blog if you are looking for that content, im not really active on either of them but i ran @/wateryourgender and am on a hiatus on @archival-arrival
i am pro-self dx so long as it is researched heavily.
i am pro-recovery but anti-contact para, sunset para if you will.
i am pro-mspec and aspec gays/lesbians, neo/xeno users
DO NOT INTERACT: just some boundaries around interaction.
radfems, terfs, gender critical etc
radqueers
transx/transid
proship/anti-anti
harry potter/jrk fans/supporters
and your usual basic dni stuff ig
WHAT I MAKE:
disability/disorder flags
flags for different disabilities/disorders, general or specific, exclusive to ppl with those disabilities/disorders
pride flag edits
combos, textured edits, etc
includes requested versions for skyset pride
specific orientation flags
coining terms/flags for orientations if one doesnt exist for or fit your experience, making flags like i did "knight lesbian" for example.
colour palettes
mostly from characters or provided images but i can make them from concepts, names or so on.
whatever lets me work with colours. only thing i dont do here is gender coining. i have @queersrus for names/pronouns too.
LINKS
blanks and templates - skyset pride
MOD LIST: all from @the-archived system
#mod cass - it/he+neos/none - @de-rune
#mod skye - she+neos/none - @tate-nova
[id: a green to white gradient box with a gif of candles and witchcraft tools on a shelf in the background and dark green text on top of the image reading "dni if transx/transid, radqueer, terf. more in pinned post. free to use/identify so long as you respect my boundaries. exclusive terms/flags are non-debatable". :end id]
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What Does Harry Look Like?
When I write Take Me To Voldemort (<- link to AO3), this is what I imagine Harry James Potter looks like... (Please don't read if you're not up to date on the story, Chapter 45, because I will be going over scars and such that would be spoilers.)
Harry is an average-sized guy. He's not super skinny like seekers tend to be, but he isn't overly broad either. He's been intentionally training his entire life and does mostly cardio and has done a little bit of muggle fighting training. This results in a somewhat lean build. He's biracial (Indian and white) with warm brown skin that isn't quite as dark as his dad's. (He certainly doesn't get mistaken for a white man.) His hair is dark black and messy, prone to knot itself when he gets uncomfortable and his magic gets out of control and kept short enough that it doesn't come down to his shoulders but has reached his chin by where we are now (chapter 45). He usually keeps it at a few inches in length, so it doesn't go much past his ears but it is big, fluffy energy. His hair is a little wavy and very voluminous.
He wears the iconic wire frame, circle-shaped glasses but he gets them from a wizarding provider and they are better about staying on/resistant to summoning for that reason. Behind his glasses, he has bright green eyes and when he is dueling or otherwise angry they look almost like a killing curse. In so many ways he looks like his father, but these eyes are clearly from his mother.
Harry has a litany of scars on his person. He has the lightning bolt scar, which I imagine looks more like what it looks like when lightning hits something and spreads. (Like this.) It doesn't go past his eyebrows and it takes over about half of his forehead. The front of his left shoulder has a scar from the cursed knife that the Masked Death Eater threw at him when death eaters attacked the Falmouth Falcon's tryouts. He has a scar in the center of his chest from when Bellatrix cursed him, it's still a purple-y red color. He has a big scar across his face, from the top of his right forehead through his right eyebrow and eye and down to his chin. Most of his scars are covered by his fur when he transforms but the scars on his face show more clearly because his fur is not as fluffy there.
He has a growing collection of tattoos, starting with two as of chapter 45. His first is a sketch-style snitch that flys around his right arm. It's all black ink and appears still to muggles. It's a little smaller than a standard snitch. His second is a much larger image. It is a bastardized version of the iconography that Voldemort uses. A cracked skull and a dead snake. Once again it is a blank ink drawing and though it does not move at all, instead done in the muggle style, the snitch does fly through and interact with it.
Harry dresses casually, leaning towards jeans and t-shirts though he also likes workout pants and shorts as well. He likes to custom-make t-shirts at a muggle screenprint shop (I've written a list of them in a previous post her) and has a notice-me-not hat that he wears when he's trying to avoid being mobbed. He doesn't like wearing his school tie and forgets his Head Boy pin more often than not. He can't be convinced to wear his uniform shoes, Hogwarts professors gave up on it in his first year. He wears tennis shoes but he does tend towards solid black designs. When he dresses nice he prefers a wizarding style because they have button ups that don't require a tie, because the colar does not fold over.
Now I don't know how interested anyone is in this, but it's interesting to me to combine it all into one place.
#take me to voldemort#harry potter fanfic#archive of our own#harry potter#drarry fanfic#harry potter fandom#harry potter fanfiction#indian harry potter#desi harry potter
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blog guide + masterlist !
dm for my discord (18+ only please)
divorcing star wars is an ongoing process. I also have gamer disease (bg3, cyberpunk, elden ring, fighting games, resident evil, CoD, disco elysium, etc etc)
18+ sideblog @foxafterdark
twitch
ko-fi
bluesky + cohost <- inactive for now but feel free to add me
tags to watch for:
writing is tagged #leo.writes
art is tagged #leo.draws
oc content is tagged #leocs
adult content is tagged #18+ / #nsft
ask and I'll tag content warnings
fics and WIPs under the cut. content warnings are tagged on AO3, pls be mindful of them
(updated 03/20/2023)
* marks unfinished fics
Star Wars
one-shots:
it is the exact opposite of alone (tumblr link) — [G] Bastra and the ghost that haunts him.
life would be easier if I was easier (tumblr link) — [G] Fox at his limit, Quinlan making it worse and better.
I miss doing nothing with you (tumblr link) — [G] Western AU; reunion for Saleese and Nocte
* inevitability (tumblr link) — [T] On choosing something fleeting because it's worth it, even if the end is inevitable.
fare thee well, my honey (tumblr link) — [T] A breaking point for Kit and Nocte.
growing pains (tumblr link) — [T] Physical therapy frays Echo’s nerves and tests Nocte's patience, but mutual understanding is key.
in amber (tumblr link) — [T] Fox hits the streets by himself. Thorn goes down after him.
oceans, then and now (tumblr link) — [T] It's a rare occurrence for Nocte to get sent off of Coruscant, especially as the lone trooper assigned to escort a Jedi to the Outer Rim. But then, Dara has a way of defying norms and expectations rather spectacularly.
on the importance of context — [T] "I think we should talk", and other alarming phrases.
down and disarmed — [T] Waking up on the floor of a jail cell is not, in fact, Uj's preferred way to start a day.
pillow talk — [M] For all that fucking the bratty attitude out of Quinlan is a great way to blow off steam, and a cathartic one at that, it occurs to Uj that it’s probably not the best idea.
ins and outs of recall — [T] The backlash of Nocte's research on the Guard's neurological troubles.
while the currents rage below — [M] After an explosive fight and harsh words that can't be taken back, Fox and Kyr are left in different kinds of shambles. Nocte tries to pick up the pieces.
extensive and astute observation — [T] Saleese jabs a sharp elbow into Nocte's side, right where plastoid would usually make her immediately regret it. Dress greys provide no such protection. But tonight, not even bruised ribs can kill his mood. Tonight, he has a shot at identifying her mystery Jedi.
leave the heels on — [E] After a drag show, Lane keeps Uj company in his dressing room.
with and without — [T] Another farse of a vote, and the repercussions for those affected. (Nocte has a dissociative episode, Saleese tries to help him out of it.) + a lovely podfic by @/godoflaundrybaskets
nightmares — [T] Sleep brings the promise of reliving the worst moments of Nocte's life, like his own personal trauma reel. Maybe it's better to stay awake.
blank — [T] All anyone knows is that the Chancellor claims that Fox made an attempt on his life. Now Fox is en route to Kamino.
peace — [G] Months after Order 66, Rex gets a visit.
h(a)unted — [T] Echo wrestles with trauma and memories of captivity in the wake of realizing why the Kaminoans are sending hunters after Omega.
Wandering — [T] After Order 66, after the crash of the Tribunal, after his Commander– after Ahsoka told him it would be best to part ways, Rex wandered. He wandered because he couldn’t stay still. If he was still, if he stopped for longer than it took to eat and sleep, then he would think.
guess it just wants to die — [T] CC-1010 lays down. Fox wakes up.
Little Orphan Ani — [T] Anakin's men were wrong. Cody and Obi-Wan weren't father figures to him. So what if Cody's disappointment felt like a physical weight on his shoulders and he spent undue time and energy trying to make Obi-Wan proud? They weren't his parents. Not that they would be bad dads. To someone else. Not him, because he didn't see them that way, but someone else who needed unconditional support and care. (in which Cody and Obi-Wan dad at Anakin and Anakin is oblivious, right up until he isn't)
Truly, Deeply — [T] Of course Obi-Wan was not blind to the emotional, hormonal storm around his Padawan. One would have to be blind to both the Force and the physical world to miss it. And really, Anakin must have forgotten that his Master was not only Force-sensitive, but also connected to his mind through their training bond. (in which Obi-Wan is painfully aware of Anakin's feelings for Padmé and also forever wondering where he went wrong in trying to teach his Padawan subtlety)
Commander Fox Week 2021:
exhaustion (tumblr link) — [T] Fox has been running on fumes for days, counting down the time until he can drop onto the nearest surface and finally sleep.
hope — [T] Enough is enough. The Republic was doomed to fail, that much is clear. The Empire may have been inevitable as well. All Fox knows is that he’s finished, he can’t pretend anymore. He can’t fall in line like his mind has been wiped blank. So he decides to do something drastic.
family — [T] The fear-mongering rumors on Kamino about Fox being some kind of abusive, tyrannical prick have reached a point where they can’t go unaddressed. His shinies are clearly afraid and miserable with their assignment to the Guard, which Fox understands, but he can try to help them feel more at home. He can dispel some of the rumors.
laughter — [G] Existential debate rages in Fox’s office.
vode an — [M] Order 66 wiped away the clones’ autonomy, but mindless drones don’t have the wherewithal to feel guilt for their actions. The Rebellion is trying to get clones out of the purge trooper program, but freedom comes at a cost.
brothers — [T] Senator Amidala returns from Scipio with the 501st. This is the aftermath.
multi-chapter:
five times Nocte took care of the Corries, and one time they returned the favor (under construction) — [M] what it says on the tin
* red hands and black deeds — [M] Fox gets assigned to the Coruscant Guard after his bravery and sacrifices for the Republic during the First Battle of Geonosis. This job is a long shot from the one he spent his entire life preparing for; it's a war on a different front and it's on him to get his men out alive. Whether he'll get himself out with his sanity intact is up for debate.
* talk is overrated, let's just fight — [E] The Guard didn't have a designated Jedi, but they had the absolute nuisance that was Quinlan Vos. He was already more than Fox could handle. The man was at least halfway banthashit insane and seemed to derive some sadistic pleasure from derailing Fox's entire day. For all that Rex and Cody complained about their admittedly crazy Generals, Fox struggled to believe that they could possibly be worse than Vos.
* a cry at the final breath — [M] CC-2224 was a good soldier, had been decanted, raised, and trained to be a good solider. Good soldiers follow orders, so that's what he did. At times, in the deep recesses of in mind, he might questions his orders, but he always followed them. Cody has to re-learn how to do more than follow orders, to live and fight of his own accord. He's been a soldier all his life, fighting in wars that aren't his. What is freedom to a man who has only ever known captivity?
unposted WIPs I'll gladly yammer about:
currents — [M] instead of joining TBB, Echo requests a transfer to the Guard, hoping to find answers about Fives' death on Coruscant
the holding of hands, the breaking of glass — [M] follows Nocte's journey through part of the war, semi-centered around his situationship with Kit Fisto
after dark — [T/M] an AU where Quinlan Vos leaves the Jedi Order and winds up with a sect of Mandalorians; after the war, Fox is sent to Mandalore with a squad to "negotiate" (read: jumpstart an Imperial occupation) and their paths cross again
head forward // heart back — [M] follows Uj from the beginning of the war, through his assignment to the Shadows and (maybe) into his reassignment to the Guard. largely focused on his evolving relationship with Quinlan Vos
remember to breathe — [T/M] filling in the gap between Cmdr Maze and Arligan Zey's flight from Coruscant and their arrival on Mandalore. the one where I'll try to carry a whole ship on my poor aching back
The Great SWxMK Crossover Episode — in which @/kiwikipedia and I grab MK characters by the scruff and dump them into the GFFA, and vice versa
Mortal Kombat
SubScorp Week 2022 (WIP, off schedule)
impossible — [T] Years ago, Kuai Liang watched Hanzo Hasashi die. Grief is a complicated thing, but seeing the man he loved up and walking again seems a step beyond its traditional stages.
* a cautionary tale re: betting against Johnny Cage — [M] clothes swap, upcoming
* frigid — [T] childhood, upcoming
* a mirror, inverted — [T/M] trapped, upcoming
* in winter's embrace — [T/M] touch-starved, upcoming
* unspoken (yet heard) — [T] secret, upcoming
* cozy koozie — [T] crochet, upcoming
one-shots:
death-adjacent (under construction) — [M] Kuai knew, when a phantom from the past appeared in the Fire Gardens. He knew before Scorpion – not yet Grandmaster Hasashi, not yet Hanzo – spoke a single word.
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Submitted by @im-here-maybe
Hey, my match was the super cool @tsarinatorment and I wrote a fic based off of her fic linked below. It doesn't make sense without reading Tsarinatorment's fic and it's just a cute fluff fic based on the situation she provided. Its the first fic I've ever written and I'm glad I could do it through this event!
https://archiveofourown.org/works/38225590
~
Once I had finished speaking, I looked at the cocooned girl beside me. Slowly the greenery slid off of her allowing her to once again move. She stared deep into my eyes as a pit formed in my stomach. I was never very good at talking to people. I caught a slight glimmer on the edge of her cat-eyed glasses. If you looked closely, you could practically see the gears turning in her head. I just wanted to know what she was thinking. I just wanted to help. Finally, she spoke.
“Have you ever seen one of those girly teen movies from the early 2000s?”
“Pardon?”
My mind went blank. I simply sat there with my mouth agape like an idiot. Why would she ask me something like that? I turned to look for the older Demeter girl but apparently, she slid away during what I thought was an emotional serious moment. Meg simply plowed forward.
“Yeah, you know, like I don’t know, Princess Diaries or something.”
“Well sure, but why would you ask that?”
She paused to give me a look. Not necessarily a mean look mind you, but it still managed to somehow make me feel stupid for asking the question.
“Well, if I don’t like when he looks like” she paused trying to find the right word, “that, and you don’t like when he looks like Lester, then it makes sense for us to take the super secret third option and create an entirely new form.”
She had said the words slowly and once she finished she looked at me expectantly as I mulled it over in my mind. I mean the idea made sense, but I hadn’t exactly admitted my feelings about Lester to anyone until now. Would Dad even agree to something like this? I know how much he likes his eight pack, but then again,
“It makes sense. while overcoming our issues is important, it probably can’t be done in one day. I guess I’ll help.”
I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth, I mean the idea was so stupid. No, not stupid, it made sense. It was entirely logical; it was just silly I suppose. I couldn’t get the mental image of Meg, Kayla, Austin, and Nico all crowding around Dad while a 2000s-style movie montage shows hair and clothes flying until he’s transformed into the early 2000s epitome of beauty complete with glitter, lash extensions, and entirely too much eyeliner out of my head. As Meg grabbed my wrist to lead me back to camp, I couldn’t help a smile from tugging at my lips. Who knows this might be fun, and if we’re real here, Dad would love to be given lash extensions and entirely too much eyeliner.
-
When we arrived back at camp, Dad was back to looking like Lester. I felt my chest tighten as Meg stopped dead in her tracks. Her hand still gripped my wrist as if sensing my pulse. Dad approached slowly, though I wasn’t paying too much attention to the interaction. Meg still held my wrist in an iron grip and my heart was hammering. What if she said something to him? Does she know I never told him?
“Change back”
She stuck out her chin and practically demanded it. Perhaps she’s more perceptive than I thought.
“Meg” Dad hesitated while Meg stood firm, “Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.”
“Yeah. I mean I have an idea so you won’t stay that way for long.”
She finally dropped my wrist so she could cross her arms over her chest proudly. She oozed confidence while Dad just looked terrified.
“Oh? What exactly is that idea?”
“You’ll see”
Terror was an appropriate response. Meg may be a child, but she truly is an unstoppable force of nature.
-
Meg had somehow managed to get everyone on board. She walked with Kayla who was snickering the whole walk to cabin 7. She somehow managed to communicate her idea to everyone without Dad figuring out what was going on. Even Nico was willing to come along. Dad looked anxious. He looked as if he was trying to figure out the cure for cancer when in reality he was just trying to figure out what his twelve-year-old friend had in store for him. Do gods sweat from nerves, or is that something he picked up from mortality? When we got back I went to lay down on my bed while the others started chaos. After all, today was going to be a long day.
-
When I woke up the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air. Kayla stood with her arm around Meg who was practically doubled over laughing while Nico and Austin stood on either side of a full-length mirror. Dad was striking cheesy pose after cheesy pose making Meg laugh harder. Dad looked different, and the more I looked at him the more I wondered if some of the ideas were his. He was an adult, perhaps mid-twenties, but at first glance, you might mistake him for a teen. It was trippy but I suppose gods were just talented like that. His hair and eyes were still the same as mine, but his face was softer. His Jaw wasn’t quite so square and his cheeks were fuller, though that might just be from the dopey grin on his face. Did he always have dimples like that? Freckles were scattered across his face, onto his shoulders, and down his arms. His tan wasn’t quite so aggressive and his muscles weren’t quite so inhuman. He was toned for sure, and I would bet good money he still had his eight pack, but he looked less like a bodybuilder model and more like some guy. An insanely beautiful and pretty guy, but still just some guy. Above all, he looked happy. He looked like my dad.
#submission#toacollabevent2022#trials of apollo#trials of apollo fanfiction#riordanverse#riordanverse fanfic#will solace#meg mccaffery#pjo apollo#apollo cabin#nico di angelo#im-here-maybe#tsarinatorment
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OFMD Decembverse 2022 Information
Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).
First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile
Official Twitter for this event:
Information:
OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.
Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.
You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.
This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.
Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.
Prompt List:
Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.”
Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.”
Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.”
Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.”
Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.”
Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.”
Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.”
Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?”
Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!”
Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.”
Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.”
Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?”
Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.”
Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.”
Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.”
Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…”
Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.”
Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!”
Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.”
Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.”
Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.”
Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.”
Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.”
Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.”
Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.”
Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!”
Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.”
Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.”
Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?”
Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!”
Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”
Rules:
1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.
2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).
3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!
4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.
Frequently Asked Questions:
What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good?
Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.
Do I have to participate in every day/prompt?
No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.
What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt?
Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.
Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day?
No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.
Do my poems have to rhyme?
No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.
Can my poetry be explicit/sexy?
Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.
Can I participate by writing for other fandoms?
Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.
Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote?
No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.
Where can I post my work?
Ao3: This collection is the place to post it.
Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags.
Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.
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Moonlit Nights:
Chapter I. Conventus
Word Count: 584
Ao3 Link
Prologue // Ch. 1 // Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 // Ch. 5 // Ch. 6 // Ch. 7 // Ch. 8 (WIP)
Celia turned around to retreat into her house when Sister Imperator spoke, "Why did you sell this?" She turned around with a perplexed look, "My nephew never rode it. He just-“ "You're not telling me the truth," Sister Imperator replied sharply, "Why did you sell it?" Celia studied the older woman’s expression for a moment. The way her eyebrows furrowed and how her eyes narrowed made Celia feel exposed. “I... Well, I’m in a tough spot right now.” Sister Imperator’s eyes were practically boring into Celia’s eyes. “Tough spot?” “I got cut off. Me hanging out with the "wrong crowd" was the last straw.” Celia muttered as her eyes wandered over to the Grucifix Sister Imperator was wearing. “They always wore something just like that, and it bothered them. So they kicked me out, and here I am” She sighed. Sister Imperator’s eyes softened a bit as she took in the weight of her situation. Her silence put Celia on edge. A minute passed, then several more. She was debating whether Celia would accept any more money from her before an idea came into her head. “Were your friends part of a Ministry?” Celia hummed in thought before nodding, “Yes.” “Would you like to join?” Her brain went blank for a moment. “What?” Sister Imperator inhaled through her nostrils before speaking again, “The Ministry can give you a place to stay. We can provide a place to stay, warm food, everything.” Celia gave her a bewildered look; this was an offer too good to be true. “Wha- Really?” Sister Imperator nodded with a serious look on her face. “This isn’t a prank, right?” Celia asked awkwardly. “If this is supposed to be a prank, it isn't a good one." Sister Imperator remarked as Celia looked away, seemingly embarrassed. Celia thought for a while about her offer. She knew her choices were restricted, especially with the money she had left for herself. She sighed softly and looked back at Sister Imperator . “I think I'll take you up on your offer.” The corners of Sister Imperator’s lips curved upward into a smile. "Now, let's go.”
Celia didn't take long to gather her belongings to take to the Ministry. She was surprised to see how nice it looked once she got there; The flowers in the garden were blooming, people were walking around the area, and a tranquil sensation lingered in the air. Sister Imperator guided her silently into the building. The corridors had fine marble, all cleaned and well taken care of. Celia looked up to see artwork on the awning with chandeliers hanging from Aureate chains. Celia almost walked straight into a Sister of Sin, "Sorry!" The Sister of Sin only acknowledged her with a subtle dip of her head before walking away. After a few minutes, she finally reached her room. It was a simple room with a bed, a table with a rosary with a Grucifix placed on top of it, a chair, a few windows, and a bathroom. "I like this. It's cute." Celia commented as she walked around. She set down her belongings and walked around as Sister Imperator took a look around. "Someone will accompany you to help you get settled and teach you what your purpose is as a Sister of Sin. I should get you fitted for your clothing as soon as possible." Celia nodded and looked over to her, "Thanks for this." "Of course, now I'll leave you to it. I have someone important to greet shortly."
#cardinal copia#oc x canon#slow burn#ghost band#strangers to lovers#strangers to friends to#romance#ao3#ao3 fanfic#original character
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“Release Me” by OneWingedSparrow; Chapter 1
Last Chapter >>>
Fic Summary: When a malevolent, parasitic green arm latches onto Link, he fights to keep it from hurting Zelda, while she fights to keep it from hurting him.
Main Tags: Tears of the Kingdom, Written Before TotK Release, Zelink, Mild Blood, Implied Self Harm (not much, but Link is essentially fighting himself), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Protective Link, Protective Zelda, the green arm is evil
Read on AO3
Written for the @zelinkcommunity Opposites Attract event!
Week 1: Blessed / Cursed.
In this fic, Link is cursed by the green arm, and Zelda with her blessed power from Hylia has to take a stand.
Reblogs are appreciated!
~
“Stay away from me, Zelda!” Link snarled. He flinched. He didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but between the pain clamping an electric grip on his shoulder and the strain of frantically wrestling his own—unwanted—arm, any semblance of courtesy was thoughtlessly squeezed from his throat. “I don’t—I don’t—”
I don’t have what it takes to save myself. I can’t control this monster in my body.
Tears stung his eyes. From exertion or pain, he didn’t know which. “I don’t want to hurt you!”
The green arm vibrated, the glowing hand clenching his left side harder. Claws dug into his skin, piercing through even the thick chainmail underneath his Champion’s Tunic. Famished power. Beastly might.
He could feel blood welling under his arm. Link resisted the urge to cry out. Focus. Focus. He had to focus! His other arm, his remaining good arm, pressed against the monstrous limb, a feeble attempt to resist.
What else could he do?
“Link!” Zelda exclaimed. She took a step forward.
“No!” he screamed. The guttural cry ricocheted around the cavern, so deafening that she froze and dropped the torch. “Zelda, go now!”
The green hand pulsed happily, its overwhelming emotions leeching into his nerves. Soon. Soon. Soon. Mmm. Yes. Delightful.
Goddess. Goddess...blood.
More.
In a frenzy, Link spun. His boots slipped on the slick, smooth ground, but it was for the best, providing extra momentum as he slammed himself—green arm first—into the rough edge of the rock wall.
“Link!”
Pain. Pain. So much pain. His own? Or theirs?
Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Link gritted his teeth and threw himself at the wall again.
The rocks scraped his arms, both the good and the bad.
“Link, stop!” Zelda yelled. He could barely hear.
More! The parasite roared.
Repeating itself? Or taunting him?
Doesn’t matter. Link bit his lip, tasting blood. Pain. Pain. He could barely think. Dizzy, he scanned the wall for the sharpest edge. The least he could do was buy her time to escape.
Nothing mattered...for him anymore.
“Freeze!”
A light—brighter than the torch—flashed in the darkness, and Link’s mind went completely blank.
~
Last Chapter >>>
#zelink opposites attract#totk#zelink#totk zelink#tears of the kingdom#zelda fanfic#zelda fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#botw2#botw sequel#zelda#link#blessed and cursed#multichapter fic#sparrow fics#tloz#tloz fanfic#legend of zelda#loz fanfiction#loz#the legend of zelda#tloz fanfiction#angst#release me
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Pink to Red
Summary: Hinata meets an Ultimate that desperately needs his help. And one that desperately wants him to prove himself.
Rating: T+
Warnings: Graphic gore, notably eye trauma. Manipulation. Yep.
Notes: This is an old WIP I finished up and finally posted for Komaeda Day! Iiiiit’s like a prelude to a Mastermind Komaeda AU. That’s fun, I think. Putting under a read more because it starts rough lol.
***Alternate Ao3 Link***
Commission? Donate?
It starts because Hinata doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so bruised—so battered and fragile that his heart picks up and lodges itself in his throat as he tentatively reaches out, and gingerly gathers the beaten body into his arms to take to the nurse. Said body isn’t even conscious, and he’s almost terrified that each rustle he hears is really the shifting of broken, shattered bones, and what he’s handling is cracking glass, ready to fall apart any moment in his hold and slice through him, leaving his blood to pool on the already darkening stains across the tiles. But all the same, Hinata walks, careful and wary, and that head lolls against his chest, and perhaps, it’s his pounding pulse that wakes the other, even though Hinata doesn’t initially notice those seemingly swollen shut eyes twitching before slowly opening to reveal darkened pools of silver.
He does groan, but Hinata doesn’t stop for a second. It’s only when he gets to the nurse, and hands him over for treatment, that he really looks at the other boy past his injuries. How confused he seems to be, and lost, looking around drearily and dazedly with his blank gaze where, to Hinata’s further horror, one of the eyes was red where it was supposed to be white, the silver standing out starkly despite its bloated, purpling surroundings and lid. He nearly choked, unable to focus on the fretting nurse asking what had happened.
But that boy looks at Hinata, stilling him and sickening him with pity and disgust for whoever did this, and then that boy smiles brightly at him—and it’s really something, spreading across the cut, bloodied lips and lighting up that pale, pulverized face to the point where had it been any other situation in any other untouched state, it would have left anyone who saw it breathless.
It’s only later that Hinata sees the badge etched on his uniform, and he realizes that this boy is from the main section of HPA—an elusive elite that before now, he had only ever admired and envied from a distance. And...god, how could he have ever expected this would be how he met one face-to-face?
There’s something exceptionally cruel about this situation, and there’s something especially crueler that it’s because of this that the first words an elite says to him directly end up being heartrendingly sincere, “Thank you.”
--
He stays as the other is bandaged. The first thing he learns is that for his injuries and supposedly fragility, this elite student is compliant without complaint, and the most he gets from the other as a sign that he’s indeed in pain is a brief flinch when the nurse disinfects and dresses those wounds just a touch too hard. It’s impressive, Hinata thinks, admirable—but a part of him only feels worse as the pedestal that this elite calmly sits on seems to tower higher and higher.
“You’re set,” the nurse declares cheerily, even as Hinata stares mournfully, doubtfully, at the other, at where the bandages almost wrap around the lengths of his arms, and how his face was handled as well—half of it almost covered by patches and band-aids, including that reddened eye. Those bruises were still painfully visible and blatant—that pallor provided so much contrast... “Promise to take it easy, okay? Hinata-kun, it really was wonderful of you to bring him in. I’ll see to it that whoever did this is reported—to think your classmates would harm an elite student...”
Hinata just swallows and nods in response, and though the knowledge that whoever did this is likely to face serious, serious punishment isn’t all that comforting, he accepts all the same. The nurse turns away from them, off to handle this or return to her work, he isn’t wholly sure and it doesn’t really matter for now.
He needed to head back too. He vaguely glances in the other’s direction, stiffly muttering that the other really should rest or something, and just as he’s turned away, he’s stopped by a thin delicate hand wrapping around his wrist loosely but feeling like a vice in how Hinata froze with shock. He could barely meet the elite’s gaze—that one mostly good eye of his intently searching him before he could have sworn a spark flickered across that gray, and he stilled him utterly with another smile.
“Hinata-kun, was it?” That voice was soft and unassuming, but Hinata felt it seep into his very being. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m...”
--
Komaeda. Komaeda Nagito. It’s not a terribly plain one like his own, and it matches its reedy, serene owner well, even covered in injuries for the while that follows. It also matches in a very peculiar...strangeness.
As an elite student, Hinata should not be seeing Komaeda in the reserve course as often as he does. He should not encounter Komaeda as often as he does when they don’t share the same department and that metaphorical river rages on between main students and reserve students, too treacherous to swim across though many uselessly try all the same, Hinata included. But Komaeda doesn’t even seem affected by this dissonance—seems to act like it doesn’t matter to him.
And really, why should it? It’s easy to pretend you don’t have privileges. It’s easy to overlook the struggling of those under you—just crush the straggling bottom-dwellers under your feet and don’t miss a beat. And that’s just—
...A cruel way to think. And presumptuous. For all Hinata knows, Komaeda’s content could have come from his hard work being validated in a way so many others weren’t so fortunate. It’s not his fault the world could be imbalanced and unfair. Hell, Komaeda could have worked even harder than the rest of them to get where he was.
...No, it was just fortune, he later figured out. Easy to resent him for, but all the same, it wasn’t something Hinata could blame him for.
--
“Hinata-kun!”
It’s strange. Hearing that soft voice call out his name so enthusiastically is strange. He’s almost sure it’s never going to be something he’s used to. Nor is Komaeda trailing up behind him, chipper and carefree even though he’s still bandaged and bruised, and only that one uncovered eye has a bright gleam. Hinata stops out of courtesy and pity, allowing him to catch up, but he’s still on edge the closer that elite student inches towards him—like his unmoving feet are somehow nearing the edge of that cliff over the rapids.
“Is it free period for reserve students as well, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asks him, and Hinata swallows before mutely nodding. That smile brightens, he holds his breath, and the other simply continues, “Do you mind if I spend time around you? I’m always painfully bored during these times, you see.”
Shouldn’t you be hanging around actual HPA students?! But Hinata holds his tongue and shrugs.
“If...that’s what you want... I don’t know why me though...”
“Why?” Komaeda blinks once like he’s really taken off-guard like it isn’t obvious, and then, “Well, it’s because you interest me, of course.”
...And it’s been a long, long time since anyone called him remotely ‘interesting’. So he has nothing to say to that—and he can only flinch as Komaeda cheerfully comes closer, with a brief brush of contact between their sides, and that bright smile on his face widens.
Surprisingly, being stuck on that smile didn’t feel as much like being stuck drowning in those currents as he thought it would. If anything, it was more like being stuck in fog—still blurring but he was still breathing.
And with a puff of air from his lips, Hinata mutely followed wherever Komaeda lead, all while he stared at that bright, bright smile on that broken face as though it were his one source of light.
--
“Hinata-kun, what do you think of Hope’s Peak?”
It’s one of the first questions he’s asked, and it’s the first time Hinata can tear his eyes from Komaeda to instead look to the main building—tall and proud on that hill—where Komaeda, too, has his sights set.
“I...admire Hope’s Peak more than anything...”
That’s why I’m here in the first place.
“Oh, same here!” Komaeda turned to face him radiantly, wind rustling his hair and he held his hands out with the brightest of laughs. “The breeding ground of hope—the housing place of the world’s very own potential leaders and ideals—doesn’t Hope’s Peak only ever sound like something incredible? Like a very blessing from the heavens itself?”
“Yeah...” he agrees, nodding as he swallowed. His voice shakes, just a bit. “I-It’s really something special, isn’t it?”
“Well, that’s expectable, isn’t it? A special school for special people. Any other ol’ normal school simply won’t do at all.” Komaeda shakes his head, chuckling still. “Ah, but, if anyone should know that, it’s Hinata-kun.”
Hinata himself trembles, just a bit. “Y... Yeah...”
“Oh, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs then, and he reaches out to take Hinata’s hands in his own. They’re cold yet soft, strange yet wonderful. There’s a lovely twinkle in Komaeda’s eye...
“Hinata-kun, you hate it here, don’t you?”
It was only later that Hinata would realize that it had been a twinkle of malice.
--
“The reserve course,” Komaeda starts gently. “The backup course—the reject course. How could anyone be happy there?”
He strokes over Hinata’s wrists, over his fluttering pulse.
“You pay and pay, and for what? Simply for Hope’s Peak to grace you with its proximity?” Komaeda gives a hard, unamused chuckle. “Rather patronizing, isn’t it? Hardly befitting for the birthplace of hope.”
Hinata watches him trace the lines of his palm with his spindly fingers. Komaeda meets his gaze almost shyly, but the real emotion he oozes is pitying compassion.
“Do you hate them? Do you wish to prove them wrong?”
Hinata’s mouth wouldn’t work no matter what he did. He just felt lost in Komaeda’s cloudy-eyed swirling gaze. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Komaeda could possibly know about the project.
“There’s potential in you,” Komaeda says suddenly. “But it’s not the kind that HPA thinks it is. You have the potential to change everything, Hinata-kun, not just the potential to be changed.”
He releases his hands and pulls away.
“I have high hopes for you as the next Kamukura Izuru.”
He turns on his heel, he gives a wave as he goes on his way.
The tips of his hair look pink, was all that crossed Hinata’s mind. Komaeda’s smile, his features, his words—they all curled around Hinata’s heart. And they all sunk in their fangs as if either meaning to hold on or to bleed him dry.
If he were to look back, he could paint himself as the victim. Could claim that Komaeda tricked him with the intention of using him. Could claim that Komaeda was the manipulator with honeyed words and a mesmerizing gaze.
But, in reality, Komaeda was just that last needed push, the last tug on his heart that helped seal his fate.
#nagito komaeda#komaeda nagito#hajime hinata#hinata hajime#Magi fics#super dangan ronpa 2#sdr2#mastermind AU
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OFMD Decembverse 2022 Challenge
Hello everyone, and welcome to OFMD Decembverse! It’s time to try our hand at some poetry. Please read the entire thread before participating! Our hashtag: #ofmd12verse (alternate: #ofmddecembverse).
First, link to the ao3 collection for this event: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/ofmd12verse22/profile
Official Twitter for this event:
OFMD Decembverse (@ofmd12verse) / TwitterOFMD Poetry Prompt Challenge for December 2022.TWITTER
Information:
OFMD Decembverse is a month-long prompt-based challenge to write some poetry for your fandom. Poetry is seen as something intimidating and “not for people like us” to most people, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Poetry is for everyone.
Each day of December will have two prompts associated with it: A type of poetry (with instructions provided for how to write it) and a lesser-known quote from the show Our Flag Means Death that you can use as inspiration.
You do not have to follow either prompt if you do not want to. You can choose to focus only on the poetry type or the quote, or say screw it and write the poetry you want, how you want. If it’s a poem related to OFMD (or that uses these prompts), it qualifies for this challenge.
This challenge is taking place on Ao3, Twitter, and Tumblr.
Note: Some of these poetry styles (such as Shi) were developed to only work well in certain languages. I will be posting ways to adapt these to English for those who are interested. I don’t think poetry should have to be Euro-centric just because this is a predominantly English-speaking fandom.
Prompt List:
Day 1: Slam: “Wait until you hear about my life as an accountant.”
Day 2: Ballad: “I loves me a thief.”
Day 3: Sonnet (Iambic Pentameter): “The love of a pet makes a man weak.”
Day 4: Pastoral: “We’re gonna have fun today, and that’s an order.”
Day 5: Terza Rima: “If I can help this crew grow as people, then I’ve succeeded in being a pirate captain.”
Day 6: Ottava Rima: “You should have stayed still, that’s kinda on you.”
Day 7: Enclosed rhyme: “The rest was just gravity.”
Day 8: Soliloquy: “So this whole time you were a woman?”
Day 9: Blank Verse: “I’ve got more riches than you can shake a fucking stick at!”
Day 10: Free Verse: “I never said that they floated.”
Day 11: Ode: “You all look the same, you know.”
Day 12: Lyric: “Is this all there is?”
Day 13: Ballade (not the same as Ballad): “A widow’s life isn’t nearly as bad as it’s made out to be.”
Day 14: Villanelle: “Mutiny is a-brewin’.”
Day 15: Narrative Poetry: “I can’t believe you made me do this.”
Day 16: Dissonance: “Since we’re on the subject of bad vibes…”
Day 17: Assonance: “We love an audience.”
Day 18: Satirical: “I’m a dirty, filthy murderer!”
Day 19: Haiku (or Tanka): “And you cried all the time, and liked to pick flowers.”
Day 20: Elegy: “Murder is a natural cause.”
Day 21: Imagery: “We could’ve made magic.”
Day 22: Alliteration: “Knives are knives, meat’s meat.”
Day 23: Free Verse: “I heard the most insane rumor.”
Day 24: Couplet: “You don’t get food if you’ve been invaded.”
Day 25: Shi Poetry (see guide for English interpretation of rules): “I’m the Black Cat of Death.”
Day 26: Fable: “Read it and weep, my friend! Adventure awaits!”
Day 27: Ghazal: “God’s not a fan.”
Day 28: Limerick: “The vengeancer and the vengeancee.”
Day 29: Tercet: “You’ll sign a confession to that extent, hmm?”
Day 30: Monorhyme: “Avast ye!”
Day 31: Epic: “My Wondrous Journey: A Life at Sea.”
Rules:
1. Please tag properly and liberally for common/reasonable triggers. Mark explicit verse as explicit for those of us who browse social media at work.
2. No racism/homophobia/transphobia that isn’t both tagged AND used in the storytelling process (such as to express discomfort with these concepts or to show characters being victims of these concepts).
3. If your poetry is explicit, tag that shit please!
4. Don’t worry about getting it perfectly right, poetry is about expressing yourself and feeling free as fuck while doing it.
Frequently Asked Questions:
What if I've never written poetry before/am not very good?
Poetry is one of the oldest art forms in the world. People used poetry to pass down wisdom, stories, and share their culture before they could write. It is truly for everyone, including you. It has a stereotype for being gatekept and that only certain people can appreciate it, but I promise that that is a lie. If you can type words, you can do this.
Do I have to participate in every day/prompt?
No, and it's likely that it will be really difficult to keep up with them all. Do what speaks to you and makes you happy.
What if I don't want to make the kind of poetry in that day's prompt?
Then screw it, pick another kind that speaks to you. This challenge is supposed to help you learn to express yourself in different ways, but if you can't express yourself properly through a haiku or a sonnet, do something else that speaks to you. All poetry is good poetry.
Do I have to follow the quote prompt for each day?
No. Some people don't know where to begin, so I've provided quotes from the show that generally aren't used/referenced much in fandom. But if you have a better idea you are obligated to use that one instead, because again, expressing yourself through verse is the most important part.
Do my poems have to rhyme?
No, not all poetry rhymes, and some kinds explicitly don't.
Can my poetry be explicit/sexy?
Hell yeah. Just tag that shit, please.
Can I participate by writing for other fandoms?
Yes! While this challenge was created with OFMD in mind, all fandoms could use a nice injection of verse in them. All I ask is that you use at least one of the prompts for that day (be it the poetry type or quote) so it relates to this challenge in some way. I know that many people also write for WWDITS and those fandoms are more than welcome here. I purposely chose quotes that aren't a direct reference to characters in the show so that you could branch out.
Do I have to write a poem about the exact context of the quote?
No, absolutely not. It can be about anything. The quote is just there to get your juices flowing.
Where can I post my work?
Ao3: This collection is the place to post it.
Twitter: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will retweet works under those tags.
Tumblr: Use the tag #ofmd12verse OR #ofmdDecembverse (the first one is neater in my opinion). The main account will reblog works under those tags.
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