#I am WRITING about this man I haven’t done creative writing in ages
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I cannot stop thinking about it please help
#there are so many things to obsess over#crying over cruel fate and human resilience#this has me reading the odyssey and watching the 97 miniseries#I am WRITING about this man I haven’t done creative writing in ages#what have I become#I’m just a man#But when does a comet become a meteor? When does a candle become a blaze? When does a man become a monster?#When does a ripple become a tidal wave? When does the reason become the blame? When does a man become a mon—#epic the musical#on my hands n knees pls I need epic moots
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HEY! Writeblr Intro!!!
Hi, my name is Caitlin, and I’m a third year Creative Writing student in rainy England. I’ve got a couple WIPs but none are set in stone so you’ll have to bear with me for a while haha.
- I’m here for a good time so my writing is solely based on my mood and vibe at the time, please do not expect consistency.
- I write short stories mainly but am trying to branch out into novels so you’ll hopefully be seeing a bit more of that in the future.
- I am a university student with anxiety and decision fatigue so things change drastically around here every so often but I promise if I go quiet I will come back.
Let’s get into the WIPs (these will be constantly edited and changing) and feel free to ask me any questions about any of them, even ones that might have been removed from this list if you’re interested.
IF I GIVE UP, SO MUST YOU - a Wild West literary fiction novel
STATUS: currently drafting (on hiatus)
GENRE: literary fiction, sapphic romance(?)
CURRENT WORD COUNT: 3,995
Okay, so a bit of info about this project. I started writing it a bit ago purely because I wanted to write a Wild West novel and then it turned sapphic and then it became literary. It follows an unnamed narrator as she navigates life outside of her small town after she is targeted by bandits in a raid. A coming of age novel that explores what it means to figure things out for yourself whilst battling with false truths engrained into your from a young age.
NIGHT SWIMMING (working title) - a short story collection
STATUS: literally haven’t even started :/
GENRE: literary, horror, surrealist
This collection is my version of NaNoWriMo this year because there is no way I can feasibly write a novel in a month where I also have to write my dissertation first draft and three other short stories like no. I’m hoping to do an update on my page whenever a story is complete, so I will also update this section to include the names of all the stories going in. Stay posted is all I’m saying ;). All I know is I want it to explore the everyday in a surrealist way (as most of my stories do).
DAMAGED GOODS - a dystopian sci-fi novel
STATUS: currently drafting (on hiatus)
GENRE: dystopian, sci-if, speculative
CURRENT WORD COUNT: 2,323
So, I haven’t done an intro post to this yet simply because I had to put it to one side once university started again. A brief summary is this: Auden, an average guy, husband, and father, has gotten into a dreadful car accident. In this society, however, surgery is replaced with metal transplantation. Due to Auden’s extensive injuries, he now must live in suburbia with a completely metal head, arm, and leg.
I’m super happy with this concept and the initial 2,000 words I’ve got I’m pretty okay with. The main issue is where to take it and if it will be a full novel or more of a novella.
EAT YOUR YOUNG - a gothic horror novella
STATUS: currently drafting
GENRE: gothic horror
CURRENT WORD COUNT: 4,950
I haven’t done an intro for this project because I honestly wasn’t sure I’d return to it but the spooky season is upon us and I really want to get back into writing this. Brief Summary: Mr Gerard is an accountant hired by the Heron Manor estate to deal with the affairs of the three sisters residing there after a mysterious death of the man of the house.
This is going to me my main personal priority other than my short stories for now and I’ll try to get an intro out soon.
Okay, so that’s all for me folks. Like I said, any questions please feel free to send me an ask or a message, don’t be a stranger. As a writer I always wanna talk about my projects, OCs, and anything else writing craft related!
I’m tagging some mutuals, if you wish to be tagged or removed :( - let me know x
@annlillyjose @dallonwrites @aesa @winterandwords @iannicellis @isherwoodj
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Which Bucky Am I Writing Today?
Summary - Something silly that came to me and I just had to write it down. The Writer sits at her computer thinking of how to write her latest fanfic of her favourite fictional character, Bucky Barnes. Three versions of Bucky come out of her imagination to help and things get a little out of hand.
Length - 2485 words
Characters - the writer of undetermined age (1st person POV), Bucky Barnes (various incarnations), the writer’s husband, several Avengers, Jake Seresin (cameo)
Warnings - probably not suitable for under age 18, so minors DNI. writer’s block, indecision, self-doubt, talk of sexuality in fanfic.
Author’s note - something fun about the various Bucky’s helping the writer to write her latest fanfic. The references to fandom is part of the writer’s own insecurities and issues, and is not meant to reflect on any current writers of fanfic. It’s all good.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
I set up my laptop in my writing room while my husband settled in to watch the football game in the living room. It wasn’t really a writing room; it was actually our bedroom, with one of those portable lap desks. Being comfortable while I wrote was important and sitting on the bed, with a tea on the nightstand and my favourite ambient music was how I wrote most of my fanfics, specifically Bucky Barnes ones.
First of all, if you haven’t already read fanfic, you should. There are some incredibly creative people who write it just for the joy of writing as there isn’t any money in it considering that someone else holds the copyright for the characters. Fair use provisions in copyright law allows for “amateur” writers to use the characters as long as they don’t financially gain from their efforts. There’s more to it but that’s the gist of it. I write Bucky Barnes fanfic because I like the character and imagine plots of him in different scenarios.
That’s what my dilemma was … which Bucky was I going to write about? I was choosing between three versions of the man. First, newly promoted Sergeant Bucky Barnes, in his dress uniform, strolling into the dance at the Stark Expo with two girls on his arms. He was handsome, confident, and a man on the cusp of greatness. The second choice, the Winter Soldier, with long hair, brooding, dark, circa 1991, a chilling year for him. My final choice was Falcon and the Winter Soldier Bucky, at a more vulnerable stage in his life, just after he confessed to killing the son of the elderly man he became friends with. With sad eyes, lonely, and feeling isolated from society but knowing he had to be truthful to move ahead in his life in the 21st century.
Trying as hard as I could I wrote introductions for each version of Bucky but just wasn’t satisfied with any of them and deleted what I wrote.
“Hey doll.” I looked up. Sarge was sitting on a chair in the corner of my room. “Having trouble?”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “I want to write something different about you, something that a reader will like because they haven’t read something like it before.”
He nodded. “I could take a girl to a dance, have a few drinks, show her a good time then finish with some alone time in the back seat of my dad’s car or maybe her flat. Her roommate could be spending the night with her fellow so that we have free reign of the place.”
I smiled glumly at him. “That’s usually what you do,” I replied. “It’s okay, but I wanted something different this time.
He nodded then smiled broadly. “Coney Island! I could clean up at the shooting gallery and win you, I mean the girl, a stuffed animal. Then we go on the ferris wheel, and at the top with the view of the fair below us, I give you a kiss to remember before I ship out.”
“Yeah,” I replied curtly. “It’s been done.”
“He’s just a boy, still thinking of chasing the girl,” said a deep foreboding voice, and a tall hulk of a man, with long hair and a metal arm came out from a dark shadow in the corner of the room. It was odd it was so dark there because the sun was still up and everywhere else in the room was bright. “You should write about me, of how I worship you, even though HYDRA continually wipes the memory of you from my mind.”
“Yeah,” I hesitated, “but that’s been done, too, as HYDRA is always wiping your memories. I need something different.”
He flexed his metal hand and bore his eyes into mine. “Sex with this in play is always dangerous,” he intoned.
“Sort of, as some writers work it in as a kink. I’m just not good at that. It doesn’t feel authentic to me when I try to make it kinky and dangerous.”
“Then why am I here?” he huffed. “If you’re not going to use my obvious attributes ….” He stopped talking suddenly, becoming alert. “We’re not alone. Someone is here.”
I listened hearing only my husband yelling at the tv.
“That’s my husband,” I said. “He’s watching the football game.”
The Winter Soldier glared at me. “I know what television football is. It is not your husband.”
Slowly pulling a knife out his boot he suddenly whipped it at the door where Bucky Barnes from Falcon and the Winter Soldier was just entering. He caught the knife in his vibranium hand, glaring at it, then at the Soldier.
“Do you mind?” he asked, tossing it casually back to the long-haired version of himself. “Heard I was needed here.”
“She’s having trouble deciding which version of Bucky to write for her next WIP,” said Sergeant Bucky Barnes. “I don’t see what the problem is. Most readers love my characterization as an easy-going ladies’ man.”
The Winter Soldier Bucky shrugged. “I hear the same about me but as a dark, brooding, dangerous assassin.”
FATWS Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and smiled nicely at me.
“Who are you writing for?” he asked. I started to say the readers, but he put his hand up. “Truthfully.”
“Me,” I admitted. “But I still want others to like it. It seems the ones with smut and polyamory get the most views and positive comments. Mine don’t do as well.”
“Smut, as in dirty and obscene?” asked Sergeant Bucky Barnes, his eyes opening wide. “People can write and read that openly?”
“Pretty much,” I replied. “I’ve written sexy stuff, but some writers have the talent to write it a lot better than I do. I’m better at fluff.”
“That can involve sex but is tamer than outright smut, right?” asked FATWS Bucky. “So, write that. If you’re good at doing that, it doesn’t matter if you get the numbers of readers that the others do.”
He was right. Winter Soldier was still brooding.
“Tell me about polyamory,” he demanded, as he played with his knife.
“Multiple sex partners, both male, female, even alien, since Thor isn’t human,” I said, then added, “even at the same time.”
Both Sarge and Winter looked up sharply, their gaze on my face. The third Bucky was grinning, seeming to know about it already.
“Have you written anything about it?” asked Sarge carefully.
“No, it’s not my thing,” I explained. “It’s personal preference and I’m a one guy, one girl type, pretty traditional really.” I took a sip of my tea, making a face because it was cold. “I’m going to warm up my tea in the microwave. Don’t go anywhere. I still need help.”
As I walked out of the bedroom, I could hear the three Bucky’s talking. It seemed FATWS Bucky was filling in the other two on Alphas and Omegas, bisexuality, dubcon, noncon, and all the other possibilities. Putting their conversation out of my mind my husband looked up as I passed.
“How’s it going?” he asked, still looking at the tv.
“Writer’s block,” I replied, putting my mug in the microwave and pressing the reheat button.
“You’ll figure it out,” he said. “You always do. If you ever want to write some Black Widow smut, I volunteer to beta-read it.”
“Thanks, you’re so helpful,” I said sarcastically, taking my tea out.
Heading back down to the bedroom I was puzzled to see FATWS Bucky leaning against the doorframe. He heard me coming and turned to face me.
“I told them this wasn’t a good idea,” he said, apologetically.
Stepping into the bedroom I couldn’t believe it. Sarge and Winter were both naked, under the sheets. Thor and Loki were taking their clothes off and Black Widow and another woman had just arrived.
“What the hell?! I told you I’m not comfortable writing polyamory.” A head peeked out from under the covers. “Who are you?”
The handsome blond man grinned. “Jake from Top Gun Maverick. Nice to meet you.”
“I haven’t even seen it,” I exclaimed. “Out. Everyone except the Bucky’s go back to your fandoms. Now!”
I waited in the hallway, fuming, while FATWS Bucky monitored the situation. It took several minutes before he put his hand on my shoulder.
“The others are gone,” he said. “I feel bad about that. They asked and I told them what my research on 21st century sexuality turned up. They got excited and well … you saw what happened.”
“What about you?” I asked. “You weren’t about to jump in with both feet?”
He grinned. “It’s like you said. It’s personal preference. With some writers, I’m all in for the smut and darkness, but I’m happy being whatever you need me to be. You’re the creative one. This work in progress is yours and should reflect what you’re comfortable with. I’ve read some of your stuff and the sexy parts work for the stories you’ve written. Do your own thing.”
I smiled at him. “There’s a reason I like writing you the most.”
“I know,” he smirked, putting his arm around me. “I like how you write me, too.”
Together, we went back into my bedroom. I noticed they had taken the time to make the bed, complete with military corners, which shouldn’t have been noticeable with a duvet on top, but Sarge lifted it up to show me, his face hopeful that I would approve. I smiled at him, appreciating the fine work.
“I’m going to assume that you keep forgetting that other writers already write you into smut and polyamory situations,” I said to Winter Soldier. “Considering that your memory keeps getting wiped I’ll give you a pass on this one. But you also remember things which are really important to you so I’m going to ask you to remember not to do that again, please. I don’t mind bringing sex into a WIP with you as the main character, but I keep it pretty simple. Okay?”
“I will comply,” he replied. “May I go now? That Jake said one of his writers is writing a, what do you call it, a mashup?”
“Fine, go,” I said. “Have fun. Wear protection.”
He returned to his dark corner and disappeared, taking the darkness with him. I turned to Sarge. He sat on the edge of the bed, so cute and adorable with his baby face.
“Are you mad at me?” he asked. “I admit I got carried away, but I never heard of such things. Hell, just getting a girl to put it in her mouth was a big deal.”
“Well, did Bucky tell you about Stucky?” I asked, looking at the remaining Bucky, who shook his head. “That’s you and Steve, together. Most of those writers who write that have it start when you’re both teenagers, before he ….” FATWS Bucky shook his head vigorously. “That’s right. You don’t know about what Steve does after you ship out. You’ll find out in a few months. Anyway, my point is that your characterization, at this point, is kind of the fun Bucky. You maybe had trysts with two women at one time but generally you’re associated with dancing and having fun. A lot of readers like you at this point because it’s before a lot of shit happens. You’re still important, remember that.”
He nodded and stood up. “Hug before I go?” he asked.
I agreed and gave him a nice hug. FATWS Bucky offered him a pound hug. After a few tries Sarge got it, and he left through the window. That left me and the final Bucky. Climbing on the bed I patted the space beside me, and he sat there, leaning against the headboard.
“So, it’s going to be me for this story?” he asked. “What are you looking for?”
“Romance, duh,” I replied. “A meet cute, with some angst from you over not feeling worthy of such a sweet woman. We can do a bit of a slow burn for the romance part, but once we kiss, then it’s a journey together to define our sexual relationship.”
“I like it,” he said, nodding his head. “What about the sex? Straightforward? Kinks? Anything goes?”
“Mostly straightforward but we can do some mild bondage, whipped cream and chocolate sauce play,” I mused. “How do you feel about marriage and kids?”
“Favourable,” he said. “Despite being a ladies’ man in my youth I always thought I would get married and have a family. What about the original female character? I’m open to anything.”
“Named, slightly plus sized, with intimacy issues, and a novice at oral sex, both giving and receiving.”
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “Why don’t you get started and I’ll be right here to help you along the way. You know what you’re doing, and you do it well.”
He always knew how to make me feel good about what I was writing so I just dived in and started. As the words flowed, he read from where he was sitting. Every so often he would nod his head and occasionally he would say “yes, that’s good,” when he really liked it. When my husband came in to ask if I wanted to order out for dinner, Bucky sat still, so as not to draw attention to himself. We agreed on Thai, and he went off to place the order.
“You have a good man there,” he said, warmly. “You should write him that Black Widow smut, just for him.”
“How did you hear that?” I asked.
“Super soldier hearing,” he smiled, tapping his ears. “I have an idea you can use.” He leaned close and whispered in my ear. “What do you think? Will he like it?”
“I might get lucky,” I replied, opening another Word document on my laptop. “Tell me that again.”
I typed it in as he described his idea to me before we returned to my original WIP. We worked on it for a while then my husband called to say the food order had arrived. Bucky stretched and looked at me.
“Well, I guess you have to go for dinner. I think you’re on the right track, so I’ll leave you to it. If you need me just call. I’ll always be there for you.” He got up and went to the door before turning towards me. “It’s how you always write me.”
With a wave he disappeared through the doorway, and I saved both documents before closing my laptop. Leaving my bedroom … writing room, I smiled at what I accomplished today. There were some false starts and serious distractions but once I focused, I was able to put my thoughts down. Even though I had planned a one shot there was enough to start a full novel with my favourite character in fan fiction, Bucky Barnes.
One Shots Masterlist
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#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#buckybarnes original female character#fatws bucky#ww2 Bucky#winter soldier#writing fanfic#writing something silly#crossing the fourth wall#bucky barnes oneshot
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This is pretty unedited and not proofread (also haven’t done any creative writing since my early teens/Wattpad days). I wrote it in like an hour and it’s pretty late. Because of this, I am very much open to constructive criticism. I hope to feel inspired enough to write more for this universe lmao.
Nevertheless, here is a childhood au of Claude and the reader. If I do write more, they would be taking place at the time of the game.
Pretty sure I made it gender neutral without mentioning much about physical features, but if I slipped up, please let me know.
--------------------
You huffed as you lugged the pail of water up the stairs. Your limbs were young and toned, so you would undoubtedly be fine after today, even if you were sore. Anything you could do to help your parents and the older staff was worth it in your mind. Almyra was hot, and they work hard out of pride for the country.
Frustrated with the heat of the day blending with the heat of your body from doing chores around the palace, you were ready to finally be done for the day. It was still pretty early, maybe just before noon, so each climb up a step brought a new idea for what to do with your free time.
Maybe your parents would let you walk on the trails through the nearby woods this time! You’d been there plenty of times through the years, and knew the paths pretty well. Also, being part of the staff at the palace grants you combat classes and educational lessons nearly free of all costs. Surely you were ready enough now.
You could finally see the window at the top of the stairway and knew that you were finally almost there.
You breathed a sigh of relief when you made the final step, set down the pail and bent into a half crouch for a moment. You deserved it, after all! The faucet on this side of the palace is being fixed after an incident one of the royal kids had on a wyvern, so you had to come from the opposite side! You could see them working on the faucet through the window and barked a laugh.
How could you be frustrated on such a beautiful day?
“Plus,” you thought to yourself as you reached for the doorknob, “I’m finally d-!” You didn’t even get to finish your thought when a bucket of wet chicken feed covered your hair, skin, and clothes. Your mouth opened in shock and you gasped in surprise.
Your eyes were shut tight to prevent anything from getting in, but you could hear shuffling in the room. Then there came bouts of laughter. There goes your good mood.
You rub your eyes and mouth free of seed and glare at the perpetrator. He was about your age and seemed to have just started to grow out hair for his braid. The dude was roaring with laughter now, bent in half and supporting himself on a nearby wall.
Your furrowed brow only deepened at his hearty laughter. A light catches your eye, and you think it may be coming from a bead in his hair. You were sure there was some detail or other on it, but right now you did not care.
“I’m sorry, really! I didn’t mean to!” He says between giggles, “I meant for that to hit Shadid, he’s been a real jerk ever since the riding instructor complimented his form over the rest of ours.”
“And so what?!” You exploded, and the boy’s eyes widened and his laughter gone, “Do I look like-” this time, you had cut yourself off. He had mentioned that he is in the riding class with one of the princes, and so you were sure that the ‘others’ referred to were royal as well.
You quickly cooled yourself and put neutrality into your expression and tone. “Never mind, just move outta my way, please.” Man, you wished you had caught the symbol on the bead.
You turned around to pick up the bucket, spinning on your heel to push past him so you could pour it into the wyvern’s trough. You hoped he couldn’t see your face from this angle, because you could feel the heat of embarrassment on it. You had just yelled at an Almyran prince! Ugh! What if your parents found out?!
So caught up in your thoughts, you didn’t even notice the prince trying to catch your attention as you turned back around to leave the tower. Gone swiftly, you had. Completely unaware of the crestfallen, and lonely boy that was left behind you.
———
It was a few days later now, several hours past noon. It seemed as though the prince kept the event to himself, as no one came to question you about that day, nor did your parents say no to letting you walk in the woods.
Which was where you are now. Reflecting on it, you did feel a little bad about that day. He didn’t mean for that dreadful prank to impact anyone but his brother. It made you wonder how he gets treated if someone of his stature is just allowed to slip away with no one noticing.
The deeper the thoughts went, the sadder you felt for him. You had seen that prince in specific out and around before. It kind of seemed like no one wanted to be around him. In your honest opinion though, it looked like it bothered him less these days. He smiled with ease it seemed, not that you had seen him up close before that day.
“Yeah,” you thought, feeling the bite of anger in your chest, “maybe they just don’t want to be around him because he pulls such awful pranks on people when they’ve lost his good opinion!”
I’m your thoughts, you had wandered away from the path a bit, and into a clearing, you had seen once before. You weren’t lost. Probably. Though, while your idle mind had enough sense to send your small legs over the roots of trees in the ground, it had not anticipated anything larger.
You heard an “Oof!” As you tumbled to the floor, completely knocked out of your own little world. You pushed up from the ground to begin to catch your bearings when you looked over and saw the bewildered prince that plagued your very thoughts. He held his stomach with a wince and regarded you with shock on his face.
He also looked like he had been sleeping. Eyes were a bit puffed up, and his hair was not neat, you noted.
“Hey! It’s you!” He said, a bit winded from your kick. “Ha. Why did you do that? Bit of vengeance?”He was lightly teasing. But only lightly, because his eyes shined the want to know and hidden insecurities.
You thought that it was fair for him to ask, you would probably want to know why someone kicked you too. Especially if you had seemingly been napping out in a secluded area in the woods.
“‘M sorry, I wasn’t expecting anybody to be there when I put my foot down.” He huffed a laugh at that and his shoulders relaxed.
“Stranger, that still doesn't answer my question. You wouldn’t still be mad about the other day, would you?” The prince quirked an eyebrow at you, the teasing lilt still present in his voice.
You rolled your eyes, “Yes, because I would wander out into the woods, in hopes that I would find the strange prince who dumped feed all over me. I do so very much enjoy such petty revenge.” you replied in a flat tone.
“I really didn’t mean for it to hit you,” he said, propping himself up on an elbow to face you. “In fact, I was kinda hoping that we could just laugh it off and maybe start a beautiful friendship!” He joked, with a hint of sincerity.
You layered back fully on the grass and turned your head towards him with a glare. “And what? Face your wrath every time I’ve even slightly wronged you? I don’t think I want that.” You scoffed. Turning your head back to the sky. You could feel his gaze on you, only spurring on your anger, that you knew was a bit misplaced.
“In fact, I think I understand now why people don’t want to be around you as much.” You knew it was too far. You didn’t mean to, honestly. The forest seemed to agree that you were stupid by becoming awkwardly still and silent.
You could feel his eyes drilling a hole into the side of your head. You didn’t dare take your eyes off of the sky. You weren’t brave enough for that. The guilt was seeping into you in heaps. Divines, this was so awkward. Maybe you should shove away your pride apologize. Maybe the moment has passed 30 seconds ago.
“What do you mean by that?” He asked in a soft voice. You couldn't see it, but paired with his eyes trying to dill into your soul, was a face of concern. In truth, he really did feel bad that you had been the unintended target to his prank. But he has had to learn to let things go in his short life. He knows not to expect the best outcome from people. Claude did have hope that not all people were so bad though.
You swallowed. Goodness, you felt guilty.
“I didn’t really mean it. I guess in a poorly voiced way, I was wondering if being friends with you would mean getting pranked like that if I upset you.” Honestly, you would take suffering pranks from the prince over being on the receiving end of whatever damage you just caused any day. You opened your mouth to apologize.
“Oh.” He gave a light huff. Turning his head to the sky, you could feel the pain from his voice, but you didn’t dare check to see if his face matched.
“I think I would prefer if people didn’t want to be around me for that reason. At least then it’s something that I had control over.” He stared at the sky as if his gaze would break it if he tried hard enough.
You turned your head back towards him. Trying to read his facial expression. You didn’t fully understand what he meant by that, but you could guess that the meaning was way deeper than his words let on.
He met your gaze while you were lost in thought. If it’s any consolation, at this time he couldn’t read your facial expressions very well either, though he would get better. Claude was a bit worried honestly. You had gone silent again and your eyes were dazed.
“Y’know what. I think I do want to be your friend.” Came your voice.
He blinked. “What?!”
“Yeah. On one condition.”
“Name it.”
“That you let me apologize this time.” He smiled. One that looked much prettier than the ones you had seen from afar.
“Ok.” He breathed.
This was indeed the start of a beautiful friendship.
#claude von riegan x reader#Originally y/n was going to get a read on him#With a straight face#Bc you probably prank bc you need help#But then I just started going#Now they have a lot of guilt and embarrassment#They’re youngins in this or smth#Childhood friends#If I write more for them it will be during the events of 3h#Maybe warriors idk#They get to accompany him to the officer's academy#they get separated by the war#But find their way back to him like 2 years into time skip#gender neautral reader#Khalid von riegan x reader#claude von riegan imagines#claude von reigen
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Re the ask game...1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand, which I will never not adore), 12, 13, 14 (for your war is the context (god is a boy) stories that I also adore), 16 (for εἴδωλον), 17, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 26 (for παλλακή), 27, 28, 29, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 41, 42 (for take the noose off, wrap it tight around my hand and i’ll lay on the floor, touch me ‘till i vomit, again my beloveds), 44, 45, 46 (i’ll lay on the floor, touch me ‘till i vomit, I only feel more insane about that one after starting my Ethel Cain phrase), 47 (for "suffering is nigh, drawing to me" or any Ptolemaea lyric because I feel that is such a Leo song), 48, 49.
(I am so sorry if this feels like too much, please don't feel pressured to answer any of these, but you said you like asks and I love your writing so much, so)
twelve. my very first one was a terrible merge between pandora hearts and dante's inferno, if i remember correctly.
4. definitely angst (and i love post-apocalyptic stories, but i'm yet to include the genre in a fanfiction, i've mostly done so in my original work).
5. i don’t have many, so i’m not sure. but she will talk like a friend (she will kiss like a man) has a special place in my heart (and i really need to continue it!).
6. for those i’ve posted on ao3, maybe my first one? it’s a good omens fic i translated (badly) from italian, it’s very trope-y and not really my thing anymore.
7. i write whenever the need to strikes, so i’m almost constantly scribbling. but when it comes to writing from start to end, it’s mostly at night (might be ‘cause it’s the time of day i have less to do).
8. a lot of things! most of it comes from music, some from my own state of being or random things i've experienced. plus, books or poetry. sometimes, as i write, i keep a few books close for inspiration (these days, it’s mostly T.S. Eliot's the wasteland, Richard Siken's crush, Beppe Fenoglio's a private affair; plus, and I'm mentioning it mostly since it directly impacted take the noose of, wrap it tight, 4.48 psychosis by Sarah Kane).
9. part xii, the one about medications, was done through a lot of research on topics i’m wholly unfamiliar with, so it was interesting, and quite fun (plus, reading Sarah Kane at night while listening to Ethel Cain which was. something). plus, the last part! i think it’s really representative of the style i’m going for.
12. I go through phases of concentrating on a single character, and at the moment it's Leonardo from TMNT (who would've thought). other characters have been Izzy Hands from our flag means death, Jesse from breaking bad, and Spadino from that shitshow (affectionate) that was Suburra.
13. i tend to avoid the issue by. not writing them, i guess. but at the moment, maybe Donatello from TMNT. i like him a lot, but i still haven’t figured out how to write him.
14. all the titles come from Norma Jeane baker of Troy by Anne Carson! i really like that book, and it has some chapters focused on explaining a few ancient greek words, while still tying the explanation to the myth of Helen of Troy.
16. it’s actually very much inspired by a concept i’m exploring in an original novel of mine, which follows, among other things, the relationship between the protagonist and his aging father, gone mad after experiencing the death of three of his kids in a war. the novel itself is inspired by the last ronin so i guess the cycle is complete.
17. “the last thing Leo remembers was taking the shovel from Raph’s unsteady hands and digging a grave deep enough to bury a secret - their arms brushed, in passing, and it stung.”
(the WIP in question is, by the way, inspired by your incredible i see things that nobody else sees, that i just adore too much for my own good).
20. not really, but there are a few things i would've changed in execution.
21. i’m pretty much in awe at a lot of people whose works i’ve read on ao3 (or other places), there’s just so much creativity and sheer talent. oh, and there’s this writer i really admire that writes an incredible range of styles and characters, consistently creating amazing stories, and whose writing has impacted me and my own work a lot. plus, she’s very kind and sends nice asks and, oh, look! it’s you!
23. i listen to music, generally the same song, on repeat, for hours.
24. not my favorite thing. i’m alright with making them not very explicit, otherwise i kind of cringe. not sure why.
25. i don’t think so, but i might if i keep up with the angst (i will).
26. the whole concept was very hard to tackle, because i wanted it to be very raw but not misrepresent the issue. other than that, maybe the final line. it’s just a handful of words, but i rewrote it many times before i got it right.
27. a go with the flow guy! i start with a concept, with a very minimal outline, and than just go until it feels done.
28. i wish i’d been capable of not attaching my stories’ worth to how many hits or kudos they get from the start. obviously i’m glad whenever a story of mine gets attention, but i want to learn to write for myself, mostly, not only to feel rewarded. but i’m getting better at this.
29. not sure, maybe παλλακή? but i do understand it’s based on a concept not many are comfortable reading about. plus, maybe my Suburra fics, but i probably can’t expect much since they are from an almost dead fandom and in italian (and quite untranslatable, since the dialogues are in Rome’s dialect).
33. first things that comes to my mind are some comments i’ve gotten on got a good look and measured my answer. many people told me it made them feel seen at a very visceral level, and, i don’t know, it moved me a lot.
35. i don’t really talk about my story ideas to people. my cats know all about them, though.
36. i have a few, but for now it’s mostly ideas -but i really wanna try writing something about across the spiderverse.
37. there’s a few fics i’ve improvised (both by writing and recording) with a friend of mine -they were a messy mix of disney characters and tropes. one of those predicted the Queen’s death. funny times.
38. never thought of it, so i don’t have a specific person in mind, but i’d be very interested in trying! i’ve done a collab only once with an irl friend, and i’m definitely open to do one again.
40. a couple of my irl friends do, but they haven’t read anything.
41. i have this pre-canon fic about Eddie Munson (from stranger things) that i’ve been meaning to complete for a while, and i love working on it. very coming-of-age, smalltown queer boy-ish. i hope i’ll finally get around to finish it.
42. a whole ass fixation on Ethel Cain’s music, particularly Family Tree and Inbred. i listen to those two a lot while writing, in general.
44. not from a fic but: “this room’s a narrow place. everyone is talking.”
45. i have many words to say, and i love saying them. not much more, i think.
46. the sequels are, in fact, in the making! (i hope). no spoilers, but it’s a few missing moments from the first two stories and a bit of development on Leo’s state (from very bad to normal bad, i guess).
47. so, so Leo! you’re, as usual, very correct. plus, by mentioning Ptolemea, you’ve kickstarted a whole inspiration process in my brain, and i’m definitely writing something about it. not sure about the specifics, but i’m thinking: some feral behavior; Leo being his usual mother/widow self; someone’s getting eaten alive.
48. is angst a trope? if so, angst.
49. a mildly explicit Inuyasha fic that involved stalking and divinity. read it on my mom’s phone at a family dinner at about eleven.
(thank you for the questions!)
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24 Is Your Mid-Twenties
I sat here to begin writing my non-academic creative essay (first one ever), and I realized that majority of my writing has been me sharing extremely personal perspectives. Which makes sense, what else would I write about? It made me sit and wonder about the different writers who have written personal essays. They have obviously lived, traveled, met countless interesting people that ended up being used in fragments of their stories. I wonder when I will start writing like that. I have been given the chance to be talented, and I don’t want to waste it. Yet, I have come to learn that being a writer means finding time around your day job to sit down and write. And it’s kind of draining. I always imagined that I would have met countless people by now, and learning the ins and outs of how we operate and live with one another. But I haven’t felt that yet.
A few days ago (maybe a week now?) I realized that I’m no longer in my early twenties. I am now in my mid twenties. I didn’t feel panic about that, it was more like a “whoa, there was a huge paradigm shift of how I should view myself, yet I never noticed.” I may not have noticed, but society has sure as shit did. When my mother offered to help me and get me some new paint to clean up my room, it made me realise that I am at an age where I should have been on that myself. I have always been okay with living like a uni student, but I haven’t been a uni student in almost three years. Which means, I should be looking into doing things differently. It’s interesting that you’re never guided into these things, you’re kind of just thrown into the deep-end, like those kids swimming lessons where the instructor just tosses them in there. But the difference is that those babies have instincts to swim, where as I, do not have a natural instinct of what it is like to be an adult. I’m adaptive, which is good, but the thing with being adaptive, is that you have to notice the environment around you is changing. And this isn’t the environment around me, it’s the society and how it will begin viewing me (or maybe even has already began to view me). Sometimes, I forget that I am 24 years old. I forget that when an adult looks at me (I guess at this point, it’s just another adult) they see a “grown-up”. And I realise, maybe I haven’t done enough growing. I spent most of my teen years trying to not unalive myself, that I never really planned what “adulthood” would look like. I never thought about the type of house I wanted, or where it would be, or what I would be doing. I only started to think of these things in recent years, maybe even during university (the end of my first year maybe?).
One thing they don’t tell you about being an adult, is that you have to actually act like it. And it’s not “hmm what current events are rocking the world right now” or “I should go home and sleep instead of blowing my money on liquor” it’s more like “I need to get new furniture because the couch is getting torn up, and “the shower head stopped working, I need to find a good plumber who’s affordable that can help”. And as much as I love living in Ethiopia, it’s really hard to find those things on your own. Like you can’t just do a quick google search on “plumbers near me” (if they’re online, chances are they’re way too expensive), you need to know the know or know people who know. I wish there was a blueprint like they have one in school, where they say in order to get an A, you gotta do these things. And I’m not saying life should be completely structured like school, but having a rubric never hurt anyone. But I guess having a “one size fits all” rubric for everyone wouldn’t really work. We’re all way too different from one another. Man, I’m rambling. But my point still stays the same.
Working through the wits and ways of being an adult causes a lot of self-reflection, and could potentially turn to self-hatred, especially if you have no idea how to go about it. I wasn’t allowed to be “independent” until I made it happen for myself at uni, and even then the UK had a lot more convenience of these things than Addis does. It’s just a matter of finding ways of life that work for you, and I need to find the time to do all that, and more. Till next week guys.
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Odyssey
Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader
Genre: romance, smut
Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)
Word count: 9.8K
Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.
Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride for teaching me how to write about pee!
Attack on Titan Masterlist
Present day:
If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.
In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.
No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.
It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.
Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.
A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.
You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.
You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.
As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.
And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.
It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.
Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.
If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.
Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.
The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.
Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.
The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.
Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.
Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.
It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.
His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.
You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.
The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.
But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god.
You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.
As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.
“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”
You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.
“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”
His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.
“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”
“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”
He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”
He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.
“Lemnos,” you say.
The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”
And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”
“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”
“You can’t make it impossible either!”
“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.
“What about Tree?”
Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”
“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.
“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.
“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”
“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.
He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”
You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”
“I know you can too,” he assures you.
You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”
It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”
And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.
Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.
A year ago:
Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.
It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.
Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.
“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”
He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”
The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.
The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.
“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.
When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.
And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.
His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.
There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.
And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.
It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.
He never returned to the sea.
As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.
But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.
Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.
“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”
Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.
And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.
It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.
A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.
The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.
The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.
You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.
The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.
His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.
After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.
But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.
So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.
Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.
And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began.
For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.
Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.
What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.
Eleven months ago:
A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.
“Thank you,” you said, standing up.
You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.
“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”
His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”
“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”
You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.
“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”
Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”
“So, is that a no?”
“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”
He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.
“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.
You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.
Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.
“How long do I have?” You asked instead.
“A year and a day.”
“And what will I get if I figure it out?”
At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.
Nine months ago:
Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.
And then you were visited at the river.
Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.
You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.
“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.
Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.
“The waterfall would kill you.”
The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”
You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.
“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.
“I might get saved, who knows.”
“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”
“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”
You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.
“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.
“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”
It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”
“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.
“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.
You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”
“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”
You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.
A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.
Present day:
Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.
You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.
He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.
But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.
In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.
It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.
“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.
You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.
He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.
Present day:
You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.
You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.
Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.
“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“
“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”
“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”
The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.
What you need is a god.
The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.
She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.
Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.
Well, except one person.
You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.
Present day:
The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.
This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.
You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.
Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-
“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.
But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.
“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.
Now, you know.
His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”
Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.
You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.
“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.
When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”
Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.
“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.
“Come here.”
And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.
When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.
Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.
“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”
But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.
“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”
If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”
The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.
“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”
As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-
Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?
“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”
Fuck.
The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even.
In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.
“Who is he?” Armin snaps.
“It was only-“
“Who is he?”
You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”
Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”
His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”
You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.
“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”
Slap!
“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”
He slaps you thrice.
“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.
Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.
The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”
You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”
Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”
“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin��s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.
“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”
The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.
“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”
And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.
“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”
What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”
“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.
“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.
“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”
“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”
You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.
He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.
When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.
“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”
“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”
He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.
“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”
You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”
Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.
“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”
“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”
“Good girl, good puppygirl.”
When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.
The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“
He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”
He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”
You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”
Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.
At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.
As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”
But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”
The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.
You expect Armin to disappear.
You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close.
Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.
He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.
“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.
It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine.
“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.
“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you.
“Armin- I- this is. But why?”
For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.
“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.
The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.
A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies.
#armin x reader#armin arlert#armin#armin x you#eren mikasa armin#eren aot#AoT#AOT headcanons#aot levi#aot smut#aot fanfiction#aot fanfic#snk smut#snk fanfiction#snk eren#levi attack on titan#tw piss kink#tw piss play#tw choking#tw collar#yandere armin arlert#tw stalking#throne sex#tw obsessive behavior
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BorkMork’s Amphibia Fanfiction Recommendations
There are so many absolutely fantastic fics out there, so these will be generalized. They could be character studies, one-shots, anything that was able to pull in my interest and leave me an absolute mess.
I won’t be tagging the authors here because I don’t want to bother them, but if any of you do know them feel free to tell them that their creativity and works are lovely, and that they have made my day ever brighter.
Anyways, let us begin.
Any Work by MayDayGirl_Save_Our_Ships
Okay so I was part of the Amphibia fandom back when it first aired. And back then there weren’t that many fics even though I was craving to see more focus on the Plantar Family and how much they mean to Anne, and overall character studies. So when I read Two Truths and a Lie, the characterization pulled me and it still aged well regardless of the new info we got about these characters today.
Years later and I am pleasantly surprised to see that the characterization once again swings and succeeds with the other fics MayDay has created. I laughed, I yelled, I felt numerous feelings for the Plantar family, and I would highly recommend their content.
bloom by dragondawdles
I haven’t been here when I saw the boom in Newtopia fics, but I had a massive craving to see Marcy fics when she first arrived in the city. Dragondawdles pulled me into this fic immediately with their prose, the characterization of Marcy and Lady Olivia, and also the really cute doodle that accompanied the story itself.
It gave me everything I wanted, and to see Marcy be curious over Lady Olivia made me ponder even more about how they acted toward each other. Overall, a cute one-shot!
Any Work by DeeTheTeaDrinkingDragon
There is something gentle about the tiniest touches, of well-done prose and filling in the potential blanks. I first read Constellations when I scoured around for some Marcanne content, and this one was the softest cuddling fic I had ever witnessed with my eyes.
It was vivid, very visually stimulating in its wholesome atmosphere, and I couldn’t get enough of it. Also, Dee’s Stay was able to check off everything I speculated for Marcanne in Season Three so me and my friend were yelling loudly over that. Would recommend them!
Any Work by feebop
I love character studies. I love authors who can pull me into the narrative through dialogue and description. Put it all together and you get feebop’s Starlit Review and Painted Yellow Lines.
Honestly, I reread them just because I feel so inspired by the attention to detail and the prose itself, they’re that good. And being able to see character studies between Marcy and Sasha always left me satisfied. I cannot recommend their stuff enough!
Any Work by mira_blue
That’s right, more character studies! Mira_blue has a few fics already but my absolute favorites would be her stuff on Marcy and Sasha, because those left me to speculate about those two more than anything, and it’s always lovely to see people’s takes while keeping the people in-character.
This Is Home is dear, because damn you can definitely get me emotionally wrecked in under 1,500 words and this is a great example.
Dance With Me by Hugh Jidiot
Long fics here we go. It took a bit to get me into Dance With Me, but when I finally had to time to read it I was absolutely pulled into Marcy and Anne being absolute disasters while trying to get ready for a massive social event. There are a lot of laughs, lots of events being filled in-between, and some study into Marcy’s thought process when it comes to socializing with people.
Few key comments on the fic itself. It took a while to get used to the newt ocs but they became absolutely enjoyable as things went on, and my favorite would be Fiona, just saying.
Also the practice dance scene was the hardest I’ve laughed in 2021 so thank you, Hugh, for this beautiful piece.
Any Work by Mighty_Ant
Fill-in-the-blank fics are always fun, but man Mighty_Ant knows how to write these so well, especially when it comes to what is basically the physical representation of emotional as heck music.
Reading the fics always flowed well to me when I narrated to myself, and you could tell the person is a professional writer with the amount of techniques used to emotionally fuck me up, especially Sasha’s story.
Thank you, Mighty_Ant, and I can’t wait for your Marcy fic!
Is She Really Your Daughter? by red_lensed_glasses
Do you ever just want to read a fic about Anne’s parents and their perspective of Marcy? And then cry? For hours? This fic is for you.
It’s such a really interesting take when it comes to how the Boonchuys perceive Marcy, and the ending got me very, and I mean very, upset for really good reasons. This fic is a recommendation, I love it!
Anne 2.0 by mandaree1
I always wondered if Anne ever got a scar from, y’know, breaking her arm, so this was a delight to read when it came to Marcy’s POV of the situation. You get Marcy being an analytical nerd in her writing style — in an intriguing second-person, no less — and it’s just really good!
Heron by TheDinosaurNerd
I stumbled upon this fic while I was looking for some Grime and Sasha one-shots, and I really liked the dialogue found in this! Very succinct, to-the-point, but in said succinctness you are able to form a really well-done fill-in-the-blanks story.
not delivered. by camomile_t
God. This is one of the big ole’ fics in this fandom that is keeping me alive throughout the hiatus, I love text fics when done well, especially when they utilize the features and limitations to basically do storytelling, and this is one of those examples. Cause holy shit.
This fic takes any theories about what could happen in Season Three and goes the limit. You get Marcanne, you get a well-done mix of comedy and angst, you get Sasha having her redemption, you get the Plantars/Boonchuys being a supportive family, and a lot more!
I binged the hell out of this and kept up with each update with much eager anticipation. You have no clue, my friend and I keep speculating and theorizing in DMs over this fic. It is so good.
There Will Be No Dancing by PartlyCloudySkies
I have read this fic so many times. Ten? Twenty? I don’t know, but I keep coming back to this just because of how well-written it is. When I tell you that this fic plays out like a legitimate Amphibia episode, I absolutely mean it.
This fic is an Amphibia episode from some alternate universe and is now given to us on a silver platter.
And for what????? We were given to this free and we’re supposed to take it with no complaints?????? Understandable, have a good day. I can’t.
You get amazing pacing, a writing style that fits Anne’s perspective to a T, dialogue and comedy logic that hits what Amphibia is all about, and you also get two girls being gay in Newtopia. What’s not to love?
Go read it. Do it. Put a comment. I don’t know what you do, but just acknowledge the fact that this fic has ruined the shit out of me and now I cannot recover, ever.
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after the interview- s. todoroki
word count: 1.1k
warnings: none <3
notes: this is my fic for @tooruluv’s contest! I hope you enjoy it love!
- huge thanks to @snoozless for helping me with the idea and @peaxhcringe for beta-reading!!
♡ reblogs are highly appreciated!!!
Fame didn’t come easy to you.
You wish you could go back to those times where you could curl up on your couch with your dog by your side, staring out the window watching the cars drive by with your cup of chamomile tea and a great book in your hand that you’ve been dying to read.
Well, times aren’t the same anymore.
After your book that you threw together just to get thoughts out became a hit, life isn’t the same anymore. You missed the quiet and calm nights you used to have. Your best friend, Shoto Todoroki, you missed him too. He would always pop up at your house during random times but you absolutely loved it.
Now you’re a best-selling author with interviews, tours, and signings every free moment you had and it was exhausting. You missed them, you missed their presence and calls. You missed their voice, their hugs, just everything about them. You fell in love with them, but knowing your very busy schedule you didn’t want them to feel neglected. So you ended up pushing them away.
You’ve been alone ever since. You barely have time to be home because you’re always on the road, riding past those times where you and Shoto would spend together. Today was a huge day for you, the one you both dreamed about ever since you started writing, a panel for you to talk about your book and your creative process. Shoto would always talk about how amazing it will be when you finally hit this goal.
“Hey Y/N, You know you’re a great writer right?” Shoto tells you while looking through your most recent work.
“Eh I doubt that I’ll ever be big though Sho, but thank you for the compliment.” You say slightly blushing.
“Don’t doubt yourself, you know your work is good and that it should be shared with the world. Even this book, oh man I can’t wait to see what happens between the girl and the best friend.” Both of his eyes finding yours and pulling you closer to him resting your head on his thighs.
“Hey Sho, if something were to happen to us, would you still be this supportive of me?” You look up at him with pleading eyes.
“Now what kind of stupid question is that. Of course, I would be your biggest fan even if you get your own panel to talk about your book, I will be there, I promise. Don’t go thinking you can get rid of me now.” Shoto says while chuckling.
You remember that memory loud and clear, now that you’ve finally made it you wonder if Shoto kept his promise. Nervous and excited you step onto the stage ready to take on your panel.
~~~~
“And I am afraid that’s all the time we have today folks! Don’t forget I have a signing in about 30 minutes right down the hall! I can’t wait to meet you all.” You say ending your panel and walking backstage.
You spot that perfectly comfortable couch and plop down on it face first. All you wanted to do right now is sleep, but also cry, and then sleep some more.
“You better not be going to sleep brat, you have a signing in 30, and you know how long it takes you to get dressed.” Your manager, Katsuki Bakugou says walking into the room.
“Lemme sleep for 15 then Katsuki, I’m exhausted.” You say face still smushed into the couch.
“Are you tired or is this about Shoto not showing up.” He says in a questioning tone.
You take your face out of the couch to lay your head on the side to look at him, “You remember that?”
“Of course I do, I’m your damn manager,” Bakugou says staring straight at you.
“Oh come on Katsuki, Don’t be too hard on her. I’m sure he will show up y/n, he did promise you right?” Your Stylist, Ochako Uraraka said while rubbing your arm.
You looked up at her and sighed “Yeah he did. He was never the one to break promises though.”
“Well maybe he’s here but in a disguise? I bet you’ll see him later.” She said before pulling you into a big hug.
“Yeah!! I’m sure he will come y/n, like Ochako said, You’ll see him later!!” Your other manager, Izuku Midoriya said.
“Thank you ‘Chako, Thank you Zuku, and thank you Katsuki. I guess it’s show time?” You said lifting yourself up off the couch.
“Yeah!! I got the perfect outfit for you too!!” Ochako screams with delight and leads you to a dressing room.
~~~~
The meet and greet started ages ago and you haven’t seen Shoto at all. He said he will be here and he hasn’t shown his beautiful face just yet.
In the process of zoning out another fan came to the table, but this time there was something different about them. Instead of opening up the cover page for you to sign, they opened the page that stores the key to why you started being distant to Shoto.
In highlighted words you saw the quote that you would always get questions about, it took your world by storm.
“Falling in love with my best friend… it is the most destructive thing i have ever done.” sitting there jumping out of the page highlighted by a blue highlighter.
But then you realized that the only person to use a blue highlighter so excessively was… no it can’t be him.
You lifted your head up looking at the fan, “Shoto?” You quietly asked.
“Damn, I know this disguise wouldn’t work. But yeah, It’s me.” He says taking you into his arms. Knowing you’ll cry in his shoulder.
He actually came and you couldn’t believe it. All these times of being so lonely, Shoto walked back into your life when you needed it the most.
You hugged him even tighter and said “I missed you so much” only for him to respond with “I know you did, I’m so happy I came back to you.”
Shoto lifts your head up by your chin with his finger so he can see the real you. He missed you and he missed this. His hands move to rest on your cheeks and he pulls you in for a long heated kiss, not worrying about the fans behind him.
Once he broke the kiss, his forehead rests against yours, you both breathing light and chucking at the same time.
“Guess what y/n” You lifted your eyes up to gaze into his. “I fell in love with you too.” He says before reconnecting the kiss you once just had.
thank you so much for reading! please like/reblog if you enjoyed it, taglist in reblog!!!
Created by katsulovee. Please do not copy, repost, or steal in any shape or form. © katsulovee 2021
#todoroki shoto#shoto todoroki#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki shoto x reader#bnha shoto todoroki#todoroki x reader#todoroki headcanons#todoroki drabbles#bnha drabble#mha drabbles#mha#bnha#bnha x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia
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My Future in Fic
Yeah, so, the 100k fic that I’ve been working on for the past six months? The one that was going to be uploaded to AO3 last week? Yeah, it’s accidentally getting published...
Where do I start?
I suppose with a massive thank you to anyone who’s clicked on any of my fics over these past two years. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again. I never ever thought about writing as a career. I’ve never written anything prior to my Harry Potter AU Compartment 451. I didn’t even take an English class in undergrad or grad school. I genuinely just had an idea for a fic I wanted to read and since no one had written it, I had to do so myself. Since then, I’ve written every single day for 2 years. I left my job in the entertainment industry, got accepted to one of the best creative writing programs in the world on a scholarship, and now one of my stories is being considered at Harper Collins. Yes, the Harper Collins. It’s the longest shot in the world, but for legal reasons I was not allowed to upload the fic version on any website prior to submission. Even if they don’t pick it up, I’ve been advised to continue to shop it around to agents.
What I can do, however, is share the premise.
If you’ve been following my tumblr and watching my tags - I SEE YOU ALL OUT THERE - then you’ll know that this fic was meant to have Zayn with his signature undercut hairstyle and one more little thing...
Someone sent me an ask a while back about what this fic was supposed to be about. I believe I said something about it being an adaptation fic, but not from a film/tv show/other piece of literature, from a song. This next fic was meant to be an adaptation of the song Younger by Ruel. Later on, it also took shape with the help of Remember by Liam and a few others that you can find here.
The miniature summary is as follows:
When his father suddenly passes, twenty-nine-year-old Liam Payne is brought back to the Sydney suburbs where he grew up. He doesn’t plan on seeing his childhood best friend, Zayn Malik, at the burial service. They haven’t spoken since going from brothers to strangers one fateful day fifteen years prior. But Zayn puts an end to this when he approaches Liam after the burial, offering his condolences and asking if Liam can help his archaeological research team with photographing their newest project. The unexpected closeness forces each man to wade through uneasy emotions. For Liam, a mixture of grief, lost identity, and confusion over why he’s willing to interact with the one person he swore he’d never forgive. And for Zayn, a tidal wave of anxiety that comes from finally facing a part of himself he’s always chosen to deny. When We Were Younger is a story heavily rooted in blurred identities and exploring what loss can look like in two different scenarios: death and friendship.
For obvious reasons, their names will be changed. Liam, to Hutton. Zayn, to Cairo (his ethnicity will also be changed to Egyptian). As you can see, it was meant to be my big ‘enemies to lovers’ fic. Technically, it’s ‘best friends to enemies to lovers’, but you know.
Right, so what does this mean for me going forward?
I still have so much inspiration when it comes to writing Zayn and Liam as characters. I don’t plan on putting a complete stop to writing them, but with my career taking this large of a turn, I do have to prioritise my time. That said, as of now, I can’t afford to write long-form fic any longer.
Soon, I’ll be starting a PhD program where I’ll be writing another full-length novel for mass publication. For fun, here’s a little insight on the two ideas that I’ll be pitching:
1. Underground boxer (loosely based off Liam) falls in love with arms gang leader (loosely based off Zayn). Throughout their love story, the latter has to outrun the psychological trauma his father (the leader of Zayn’s rival gang) still throws his way.
2. Cold War AU. Paris, circa 1950/51. Ambassador’s son (loosely based off Liam) befriends new student (loosely based off Zayn) at the international school. Paris is a ticking time bomb; war is about to break out at literally any second. The two clearly have feelings for each other, but can’t act on them because homosexuality in the 1950s...yikes. When war does break out, the two are separated, and as Liam’s character goes out to find Zayn’s, he learns a secret of his that changes everything.
Whichever I don’t write for the PhD will be the novel I write following it.
In the meantime, I’m going to continue to write (and edit) like crazy. Ever since I randomly wrote C451, there hasn't been a day that’s gone by where I haven't written something. It may have only been a paragraph or two, but never zero. This is how you get better. This is the equivalent of going out and shooting free throws for 30 minutes a day. You have to put in the work in order to get better. I'm very lucky that I'm incredibly self-disciplined and I've been able to crank out as many stories as I have over the past 2 years.
That said, I’ll be writing shorter little oneshots. I have several ideas that I’ve been sitting on, but haven’t ever thought to write because I HATE writing short stories. Little ideas that don't have huge plotline/climax potential, but that I want to just see on paper, I'll probably end up writing. If I had to guess, I'd say they'll come out to around 10-15k. Also, sequels? Prequels? Haha, you never know...
I’ve also got a series called “Sleep Drabbles” that are, yes, you guessed it, a series of drabbles based around one theme: sleep. I also have a few scenes that I want to write which are based on ziam’s kids, not actually ziam themselves. If there’s enough demand for that, I can upload those too, but they’re quite niche, so I don’t think the general fandom would be very interested.
As far as frequency for all of this, I have no idea. I’ve always done things at my own pace and written stories that I want to write, for myself. That won’t ever change, so I don’t want to commit to one drabble a week or one short-length fic per month. It takes me weeks (months for this last fic) to research and interview the necessary people to get character arcs correct/believable. I love that part of writing, and so if I have a little story that I want to write that may only be 10k but takes me ages to put together how I want, then so be it. I will always be around to answer asks/messages and please, continue to tag me in your writing tag posts! But please, no prompts.
So, that’s my future with fic.
Again, I cannot say thank you enough to every single one of you. Every single thing that people tag me in (@malik-payne , @zqua1d , @zentiment , @liamisthesun , @redyellowberry I’m looking at you), I appreciate and love! The recommendation lists that people have put me on, THANK YOU! It’s wild to think that I used to look to rec lists for years and now I’m on them. @ziamfanfiction THANK YOU for always having my back with exposure! @paynefulperiods , my beloved beta reader, THANK YOU for always encouraging me and putting up with shit first drafts. @march-z5 , THANK YOU for always being on call for ideas and listening to me bang my head against the wall at 4 am.
Now, might fuck around and make a fake picspam for the fic that never was...
Also, all of the behind scenes pages for each of my fics are now public, so feel free to check those out here.
I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for making this journey possible. I know people say that a lot when they gain a following of any sort, but I truly truly mean it. You have to have talent in order to be an author, but you also have to have people who want to read your stuff. Proof of concept is a real thing.
So thank you a million times over.
Speak soon my friends.
#ziamhaze#my writing#ziam#ziam fanfic#ziam fanfiction#not sure what to tag this#also gonna be reblogging for a while bc I know people are going to be curious about where the next fic is and won't have seen this
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HI ZORA BB💖 for the end of the year asks : 5, 6, 8, 9, 11, 12,
5. What creative work are you most proud of (your own or someone else’s)?
I am quite proud of the fact that I got back to writing at all lmao. I write sporadically at best, and the last time I wrote fiction before this year was in early 2019 (good times, sigh), so I’m just gonna pat myself on the back for trying.
I am still in absolute awe of Vice and Virtue by @galvanizedfriend. Every time I think back to it (the one chapter I read - I have two new chapters that I still haven’t found the time to get into my fault I knowwww) my mind just goes !@#@%$#^ cause it’s that good a masterpiece. And in my mind it’s canary yellow and pastel green like the color palette you used for the beautiful beautiful edit.
I also constantly think of this edit by @certifiedceraunophile. It’s so stunning!!! I’ve actually started writing something based on it, but well, you know... sporadic. It has become kind of a personal sanctuary though, to imagine an alternate universe that is so close to reality, but pandemic-free. In which Klaus and Caroline would be traveling in style and I could get my wanderlust quenched vicariously through those two.
6. Did you have any new ships this year?
Roy and Keeley! Definitely them. Other than that I can’t think of any new ships though. I’ve been rewatching the same old shows on loop for a while now lol.
8. What quote really sums up how you’re feeling at this point?
I’ve read from somewhere an excerpt of a letter Anton Chekhov wrote to his sister in 1898 after their father passed away. I think of it a lot these days:
Tell mother that however dogs and samovars might behave themselves, winter comes after summer, old age after youth, and misfortune follows happiness (or the other way around). A person can not be healthy and cheerful throughout life. Losses lie waiting and man can not safeguard against death, even if he be Alexander of Macedonia. One must be prepared for anything and consider everything to be inevitably essential, as sad as that may be. What needs to be done is to fulfill one's mission according to one's strength - no need to worry about the rest.
9. Recommend something that you really enjoyed in 2021.
Sitcoms. These are the “same old shows” that I’ve been looping all year. My forever comfort, Community and The IT Crowd and The Office and Miranda and Derry Girls. A special shout-out to Superstore, whose last season I just finished and it has one of the most heartwarming and fulfilling series finales I’ve ever seen.
Musicals sountracks! I depend on them to spark joy in me, seriously. A few that I constantly go back to this year: Come from Away (the last musical I saw live - again, how I miss 2019); Hadestown; Notre-Dame de Paris; and a recent fascination Sunday in the Park with George.
Flights by Olga Tokarczuk. I read it in Chinese, so cannot vouch for the English translation, but it’s hands down the best thing I’ve read this year. It got me through a particularly down period and for that I’m always grateful.
The dried bamboo shoots and dried shiitake mushrooms I had shipped from back home. God they’re good. Transcend every soup I ever make. Also I learned to squeeze a wedge of lime on my soups from Vietnamese restaurants (speaking of, I also praise the ultimate rainy chilly gloomy day comfort food pho) and it’s divine.
11. Name a fellow fan who you really appreciated this year.
You, Kait, of course!!! And also Nat @recyclingss. You two make everything better and brighter, and this year would suck a lot more without you guys. *a thousand and one hearts and kisses*
12. Share your wishes for your fellow fans in the new year.
Wish you all a safe and happy new year! No writer’s or artist’s blocks, no busy days, just a ton of amazing new content in every fandom that you’re even remotely interested in, and a lot of free time. And great food.
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Hey Mika! Congrats on fifty followers, you most definitely deserve them and more upon more. I’ve decided to take part in your event. I haven’t really done tis’ before so pardon if I do anything wrong here. I am a minor, current freshman in high school. I’m 5’4, female, and like writing. All sorts of writing. Song-writings, poetry, play-writing, etc.
My favorite color is black. Zodiac is a ‘Aquarius.’ My current favorite artist is CORPSE because i’m a typical edgy teenager lol. I’m a dog person and prefer cold days rather then hot days. I’m sucker for romance but despise pet-names. They make me very uncomfortable irl. Reading is fun. Specifically collecting books. That’s all I believe.
Congrats again on 50 followers, Mika!
Hi! I’m really happy you decided to join and thank you <3 You are one of my fave moots and I hope you’ll like this. (fandom is Jujutsu Kaisen)
I match you up with …
Megumi Fushiguro!
Hc:
- Being the same age and having similar interests and preferences really helped the two of you get closer.
- Gojo was so surprised when Megumi brought you over that he almost fainted out of pure excitement. The little antisocial boy he raised has a girlfriend ?! How could he not be thrilled?
- The awkwardness and anxiety hit heavy on Megumi? What if Gojo ruins everything and makes you leave him? That’s the last thing he wants. He finally found his peace and affection in someone and he doesn’t intend to let you go bc of the white haired weirdo.
- Watched every romance movie Itadori recommended him (complaining on the surface about them) and mentally noted all the dates and romantic things the couples in them did, so he could try them with you. However he forgot everything he learned when he saw you. Mind blank, only your pretty face before his eyes.
- Asks Maki to send him texts with compliments and activities. Nobara and Itadori interfere and the phone somehow ends up at Gojo, that sends him the cheesiest pick-up lines ever. Now Megumi is red and flustered. He’d rather eat Sukuna’s finger than call you Muffin. (And he knows you’d do the same)
- Somehow you always end up reading to eachother, mostly you sharing your own writings with him. He is so mesmerised by your creativity and the way your mind works, that by the end of every date he makes copies of the drafts you send him and stickes them to his wall. At night, when he feels lonely, he starts reading them and his mind wanders to you. Is he in love? Megumi brushes away that thought - he is too young to be in love. But that feeling right there was the closest to what his mind perceived as love.
- Let’s you pet his Demon Dogs. You are the only one allowed. (Cue to Itadori and Nobara’s hurt faces) The dogs also absolutely adore you and everytime Megumi conjures both of them, one is 100% by your side.
- A lot of playlists and nights spent listening to eachother’s favourite songs. He always sends you texts like this, which make your heart swoon:
Megumi: I found this song that reminds me of you. * one attachment sent *
- Gojo snaps pictures of you any chance he gets and has a whole folder dedicated to Megumi and his gf. Megumi pretends to hate this, but secretly asks the man to send him the pics on whatsapp. (Also, since both you and Megumi are kinda angsty, he made emo edits of the couple pics he takes, made a collage and printed it for your birthdays)
- Megumi is WHIPPED for you. He would literally do anything and protect you to the end of the world if it meant you’d be with him.
bonus song that makes me think of you and Megumi: Stuck on the puzzle - Alex Turner
#jjk matchups#jjk fluff#jjk#jjk x you#jjk headcanons#jjk x reader#megumi hcs#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro megumi x reader
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Chapter 1 : Out of Time
SUMMARY
Your first week back at university is nearly over and you’ve been dying to go on a date with your boyfriend Ushijima. And it’s not just ANY date, you are celebrating your final year of school together! However, the evening doesn’t really go as planned…
pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader /iwaizumi x f!reader
genre : angst + fluff
word count : 1,478
tags : alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn
a/n : first time writing fanfiction, I haven’t done any creative writing in a while. I feel like I changed this story so many times but I finally got it down. Please don’t drag me, I am learning!!
masterlist
ch. 1 | next >>
You thought when bad things happened, time slowed down, but it actually felt fast. Almost too fast. Everything seemed to happen in a single second, as you heard those four words, as you waited for the clock to rewind, and as you realized that the love you once had was no longer reciprocated.
--- 3 hours before ---
The anticipation of the weekend just moments away ticks in the background as you’re seated at a desk near the back of the classroom.
Today’s the last day of your first week back at university. Returning back to classes after a short break really put into perspective how much more work you were going to have to put in for your final year. But you were quite fortunate that you only needed to complete a couple more classes to graduate.
You squint at your professor straining your hearing to focus on every word he spoke, but your concentration continues to shift to your thoughts after class.
An evening that’s been planned for months.
To go out for a romantic dinner with your boyfriend Ushijima Wakatoshi, and drink expensive sake while toasting to a bright future together. You have been dating for a year now and the sentiment causes you to feel completely entranced in tonight's endeavors.
As you attempt to regain your focus, you feel a nudge on your arm making the hairs stand on the back of your neck. You turn to your seat-mate who takes the pen from your hand that you’ve been subconsciously fiddling with.
“Tōru!” you whisper, reaching to grab your pen back.
But Oikawa makes sure it's out of your grasp and places it behind his ear opposite from you.
Your eyebrow twitches as Oikawa radiates with a shit-eating grin. You hate it when he makes that face. And that’s when you realize that his actions are intended to be the sole purpose of irritating you, perhaps partially due to the fact getting a reaction out of you was so easy.
Before you cause a scene, you control yourself and let Oikawa get away with stealing your pen. You hear the professor wrap up the remainder of the lesson and begin to pack your things.
Oikawa smiles and focuses on you for a moment. There’s just something about the way you attempt to hide your crossness through the purse of your lips and flush of your cheeks while avoiding eye contact.
As he gathers his belongings, you observe him through your peripheral vision. There was a softness to his appearance, a kind of warmth that reminded you of when you first met.
It’s been almost three years. The two of you met on campus and you’d heard about him from other girls for being exceptionally charming and very attractive. You never quite understood why, but your curiosity grew upon your first impression of Oikawa and the next thing you knew, you were friends.
When the professor gives his final dismissal, you pop out of your seat and reach over to grab your pen. Oikawa’s attempt to stop you is too slow but takes the opportunity to grab your wrist.
You try not to snap and remain calm for fear you’ll give him what he wants, so you pout at his interception trying your best to appear innocent.
Oikawa raises a brow at you as you clutch the pen in your knuckles.
“What’s the magic word…” he coos.
You roll your eyes at his obnoxious tone, “Tōru!”
Oikawa chuckles as he watches you squirm your wrist out of his grip.
Collecting the rest of your things, you quickly regain your composure. To be honest, you couldn’t be bothered with Oikawa’s game, you had to quickly get home to get ready for your date and you already felt you had succumbed to his antics.
Oikawa slings on his backpack and waves to a couple of girls obviously gawking in his direction. You can tell they both undeniably have a crush on him as they continue to linger in the nearly empty classroom. His gesture causes them to blush while squealing out a farewell as they scurry out.
The brief exchange is nothing but the same any day you’re with Oikawa. It’s enough to the point you’re completely immune to it and the dirty looks you get from other girls for being around him.
“Do you want to come grab drinks with me and a friend?” he asks quizzically.
You furrow your brow at his invitation, feeling a bit of disappointment as you’ve been talking his ear off for months about your celebratory dinner with Ushijima.
“Tempting, but I have plans with Wakkan,” you respond.
"Oh, right,” Oikawa fumed.
You can tell he’s displeased as he pouts his lips in petulant annoyance-- Ushijima isn’t someone Oikawa has warmed up to. Often, at times, Oikawa can act quite childish around Ushijima as their personalities don’t necessarily complement each other and it’s been like that since the beginning of your relationship with Ushijima.
However, today you didn’t quite feel in the mood to argue, so instead, you give Oikawa a little nudge with your elbow.
“I’ll come hang out tomorrow, I promise,” you force a smile and hold your breath.
“Fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes, holding you to it.
You exhale deeply, grateful for Oikawa’s acceptance.
------
A knock comes across the silent apartment.
The unexpected noise lingers as you pause from touching up your lashes with a thin coat of mascara. You give your reflection one last anxious glance in the mirror, checking for any flaws. You had to look perfect.
Peeling yourself away from the mirror, you putter to the entrance of your apartment. It was too early for Ushijima to arrive and you weren’t expecting anyone else. But when you open the door, a tall young man stares down at you.
Wakkun!
Casually clothed in a matching hoodie and sweatpants, his rigid complexion radiates stony and daunting. You smile wide--despite his careless appearance--and invite him in.
Ushijima stiffens at your request and shakes his head.
A little helpless, you feel your stomach knot. Something didn’t feel right. His eyes are hard to read, as always, and pierce you with his gaze. But you feel his answer is cold and distant unlike what you are accustomed to.
Then your thoughts start to snowball… Why doesn't he want to come in? Why is he dressed like that? Is he sick? Is he canceling tonight?
“Is everything okay?” You hesitantly ask, putting a pause to your hasty thinking.
“We need to talk,” Ushijima grunts.
It takes you a moment to answer while you let the words sync in.
“W-what!” you stammer, clenching your fists. “I don’t understand--" But you stop yourself when he gives you a look so empty, it’s haunting. The feeling of anguish hangs in your chest, while your throat tightens making it much harder to breathe.
“I think we need to break up,” he utters without skipping a beat.
With those words, time speeds up, almost too fast for you to grasp. Your head starts to spin and in a single second everything is over, but it feels unbelievable as you stare into Ushijima with your adoring eyes. No words can express the aching that courses through you.
Then you shut the door.
Your mind goes blank. As your heart starts to race, you try to make sense of the sudden surprise attack. You could’ve sworn that it wasn’t over and perhaps it was a mistake, that Ushijima will be back. Yet you know it’s real once you stood there with your eyes locking on to the door for what felt like ages. Your entire composure depletes as you lose feeling in your legs and fall to the ground. You want to scream, to open the door and run after him begging to stay. But you can’t. You won’t.
You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white, sending chills of dread down your spine and ounces of tears brim out of the corners of your eyes. You feel overwhelmed with hatred and sadness for being so naive and thinking things can last. Where the fuck did you go wrong? you blame yourself.
Your thoughts are cut when you notice the room got visibly darker, followed by the sound of people giggling and walking outside past your door.
Getting up, you flick on the hallway light illuminating the foyer of your apartment. It’s quiet and disgustingly morbid from the lingering tension of the event that unfolded earlier.
The curtains are wide open for the city lights to bleed in. A sense of loneliness seeps into your skin as you approach the window that overlooks the gritty streets. Taking a deep breath, you swear that tonight will be the only night you let yourself come completely undone.
Little did you know it was going to be a long evening.
#haikyuu x reader#hq x reader#ushijima x reader#ushijima wakatoshi#ushijima x y/n#oikawa x reader#oikawa tooru#oikawa x y/n#haikyu x reader#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fluff
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I haven’t talked about Lovely Writer on here at all I think, but I really am loving it so much. It took a while to grow on me, especially given how attached I have been this year to A Tale of Thousand Stars (it was hard to open my heart to another show lol), but I really do look forward to each episode, and I’ll be genuinely so sad when it ends next week.
I’m incredibly critical of the media I consume, and I think my standards are quite high when it comes to specific aspects of that media. I think the BL industry romanticizes a ton of toxic bullshit in their series, and fans eat it all up without ever recognizing the problems at play. I can’t 100% blame fans for enjoying the media that is blatantly presented to them as positive and not automatically finding the faults, but it’s a really toxic relationship between BL creators and BL fans. The supply and demand for really problematic content is so high.
A Tale of Thousand Stars and Lovely Writer, in my opinion, have been so refreshing as someone who was getting honestly really tired of BL series recycling the same toxic tropes over and over again. Neither of these series are perfect (that should never be the expectation), and they both have elements I’d still deem controversial or troublesome. But in comparison? Absolute standouts.
A Tale of Thousand Stars was able to tell a beautiful queer romance without the coming out drama, without the homophobia, without the oversexualization, and without the bland, two-dimensional characterization you too often see with queer characters. The only coming out scene was tastefully done and perfectly fitting with the story, and the rest of the series could play out as a mlw romance, if you were to replace one of the characters with a woman. Queer people deserve those romances, the ones that center around two people simply falling in love regardless of gender. Queer people have been asking for those stories for ages. There’s nothing wrong with the cliches, but the creativity shouldn’t stop there every time. A Tale of Thousand Stars was, at base level, just two people finding love in the mountains, and I’m so grateful for that. On top of that, the show also avoided so many toxic tropes (i.e., power differences, violent jealousy, romanticized SA). Add phenomenal acting, ridiculous chemistry, beautiful scenery, an interesting plot, and P’Aof to all of that and you have my favorite BL drama and one of my favorite general series to ever exist. Yes, I said it. (I add P’Aof because he’s an actual queer man who cares so much about portraying realistic and beautiful queer relationships, and I am so grateful to him for taking his talents and efforts into the BL industry. I think he is and will continue to be such a force for needed change. I appreciate that man so much and will be watching every series he creates.)
But then we have Lovely Writer, which I appreciate for somewhat similar but relatively different reasons. Sometimes I’m not even sure to what degree it’s all intentional, but the COMMENTARY on the BL industry is *chefs kiss.* I mean, the stark contrast between the gentleness of Nubsib and Gene’s real relationship versus the romanticized aggression of the fictional relationship within Gene’s novel is so important to me. I get so uncomfortable watching the scenes where they are filming the series because the comparison is so obvious and it’s mind boggling that so many people find the abusiveness so attractive and romantic. That’s such a huge issue in the BL industry, and I love how blatantly obvious they make it in the show. In addition, the series has highlighted the facade that is fan service, the fetishization and oversexualization of mlm relationships, and the issue of BL stories never being written by queer men. And most recently in episode 11, I think they really showed how the BL industry loves making money off of the queer community but doesn’t give a shit about queer people in real life. What I mean by that is, Gene is forced to write BL novels despite his own wishes, no matter how inauthentic they are to him as a writer, because the company believes they are marketable and profitable. But when Gene and Nubsib’s real life relationship comes to the surface, they are treated like dirt for the sake of the company and the show… for the money. There were other solutions to that issue, but the easiest in the company’s eyes was throwing them, actual queer people, to the side and telling them to essentially get over it. Sure, that’s just capitalism, but it really is a massive issue in the BL industry that needs changing. So to see that portrayed within the show is incredibly satisfying. They’re really bringing to light so many problematic aspects of the industry that have been hidden or downplayed for too long.
And then both of them are telling stories about actual queer people, which I love more than I can explain. And by that I mean characters who actually use words to say they are not straight. I’m so freaking tired of the blatant avoidance of the word “gay” or even the words “I like men” (plural men) in BL. And I’m especially tired of the “I don’t like men. I just like x” trope. I really, really appreciate both A Tale of Thousand Stars and Lovely Writer telling queer stories by making their characters actually queer. (And this isn’t at all about those who choose to not label their sexualities. That is absolutely valid, but unfortunately in the BL industry, the avoidance of any words indicating sexuality is generally done to separate the show from the actual community being profited off of, not to avoid labels for empowerment.)
I’ll stop rambling, but I just finished ep 11 of Lovely Writer and I had so many thoughts. 2021 has started off really well with both of these shows airing, but it also means my expectations are so high now… welp! Looking forward to the Lovely Writer finale next week. I’m really glad a show like this exists, and I hope it makes even just a few fans realize how they may be participating in toxicity or just a few creators realize they can have a successful series without romanticizing problematic behaviors.
Thank you to A Tale of Thousand Stars and Lovely Writer for restoring some of my faith. I’m grateful to you both.
#olivia rambles#a tale of thousand stars#atots#1000 stars#lovely writer spoilers#lovely writer#I know there are a couple other shows I need to check out that people have said are pretty good in these regards as well#looking forward to those too#I’m tired of shows like [redacted] getting all of the spotlight when they’re toxic af#I feel kind of funny invading the lovely writer tag lol I was active in the atots tags but I’m a nobody in the lovely writer fandom 👀
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Mystery March Day 31 - Ghost
I haven’t been keeping up with most of the prompts, but I didn’t want to miss out on today’s as it is the last day of Mystery March.
October 2014.
A four and a half minute long animated music video dropped on Youtube and Tumblr.
Nobody, not even the small team who created this video and the musician who commissioned them, expected this video to gain INSTANT attention and popularity overnight. Many artists, creators, and fans of Mystery Skulls (new and old) instantly fell in love with this creation. Fanart poured out every day afterwards and questions were flying around; asking about the characters’ information, their age, their occupation, what happened to the beloved purple ghost man and the humans who ventured into his mansion.
For myself? I jumped on the hype train a week or two after the video was posted. I still remember the night I came across it on my main blog’s dashboard. I was sitting in the dining hall at college, talking to my friends about this video and how it’s getting so much attention. I went back to my dorm room, sat down, watched it once, then twice, and I think about four more times.
I cried, I won’t lie to you on that. But something even more amazing happened that night, and it’s something I wouldn’t know until years passed.
This tiny fandom helped me in so many ways. It brought out more of my creative side. I started getting into voice acting by dubbing MSA comics, providing my interpretation of the canon character’s voices, and building my repertoire. I delved into drawing and art. And most importantly, my writing has significantly improved since the day I created this blog.
Back in November 2014. Vivi and her muse have been around in me for nearly 7 years now. She has developed so much since then, undergoing her own journey as well as my own journey into becoming a creative writer.
On top of those personal accomplishments I wanted to share, this fandom has given me SOOOO MANY life-long friends! I could tag each and every single person, I really could but it’d be taking up way too much space in this already long post. You guys know who you are! I can’t thank them enough for all the time we spent together, whether it was staying in Skype calls for 12 hours straight, helping each other through some very rough times, or enduring what was know as the Brock fiasco. I love each and every single moment I got to spend with you, and will continuously enjoy your company for more years to come!
This fandom gave me the chance to grow even closer to another very good friend, one that I can happily call my boyfriend! A very loving, sweet, funny, and down-right kind person. I cannot believe how lucky I am calling you as such, you’ve helped me out in some many ways as well. I love you with all my heart, and I am truly blessed each and every day knowing I get to say those words to you.
So thank you Mystery Skulls!
Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, and for every other person impacted by your creative works. Not only have you created such amazing music, but you are downright an absolute sweetheart. I won’t forget the first conversation we had when I saw you on tour in LA. You may have had a bit too much to drink, but the light in your eyes when you saw someone cosplaying one of the video’s characters is an image I haven’t forgotten.
This community may be small, but we’re very mighty! I look forward to your next album release and a time where it’s safe for you and your crew to tour again! ❤️💜💛💙
#out of ghosts#mun stuff#long post#MysteryMarch2021#Yes I may be getting emotional here#but this fandom and these music videos really did a lot for me#I have made so many good friends and I don't know what I'd do without them in my life#here's to more years spending time together and enjoying the craziness of MSA!
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Fic Writer Review
thanks for the tag, @setting-in-a-honeymoon !
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
60! which is a lot, and also doesn’t include the fics i orphaned from an old fandom (a controversial decision to me, by me)
2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?
867,941
3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?
so many throughout history, and some i’m sure i’ve forgotten. and yes, i’ve been writing RPF since age 13 and am developmentally stunted as a result. smallville, x-men, lotr, afi, fall out boy, battlestar galactica, mcu, iron man, marina del rey, mcr, star trek, supernatural, p!atd, and now the latest blessed sinkhole, cobra kai.
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Stranger Danger
From Russia With Love
The Difference Between Real Love and the Love On TV
Boys Next Door/Assholes
Jet Black Crow
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
oh, I really mean to, i swear. but I have 340 in my inbox that I haven’t responded to. I appreciate my kind and supportive reviewers so much! I just don’t have a lot of time or energy, and I usually choose reading or writing with my time instead of responding to messages. your comments are a gift and I love receiving them so much!!!
6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?
lol in the olden days, I once ended a fic with a surprise suicide, because i was a cruel and mercurial child. all my fob fics have happy endings though! the fic I have online right now that gets the most ‘wtf is this ending’ feedback is the unreliable narrator ghost story, the ending of which is either happy or REAL SAD, depending on how you interpret is, is Baby You’re A Haunted House
7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?
i don’t write crossovers per se but I love a good universe smash. the wildest one I’ve done is my beauty and the beast/coyote ugly peterick remix.
8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?
god yes, i started writing fic in 2003 and i cannot stress enough how different fandom was back then
9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?
absolutely I do, lots of emotional intensity but also good old fashioned fucking
10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
a million years ago on deviantart
11. Have you ever had a fic translated?
yes! it is the biggest compliment ever, you guys are too good to me
12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
hahahahaha @carbonbased000
13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?
hard question! rpf is my favorite thing to write because I love making transformations within set biographical constraints, it is by far my favorite way to be creative, but there are so many ships with interesting dynamics. i’m true blue for peterick but i also love fic with older characters who are all gritty and wounded navigating overt and internalized homophobia, and girl ships are the stuff of life. some of my favorite ships I never write for (for example, kirk/spock or various lotr pairings) because like. I have absolutely nothing to add, it’s already perfect. lawrusso is my favorite of the moment because cobra kai is an absolutely WILD show, it’s a blast
14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?
UGH my ageswap peterick about Patrick letting everyone down again and again and again. literally I’ve been working on this fic for 5 years and only have like one scene left to write but it’s become a goddamn albatross around my neck
15. What are your writing strengths?
I’m funny and I use pretty words, and the fact that I want good things for all my characters shines through
16. What are your writing weaknesses?
will you laugh if I say plot? I am terrible at plots. almost all of my fics are just situations and how people react to them emotionally. the other thing is spatial descriptions, I can’t picture things in my head so i am wildly inconsistent and often just forget to add these in. oh, and I also get so lost in the dreamy emotional bits of people’s inner experiences that I lose my own narrative thread over and over and over again.
17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?
I love it if you’re a student of the language, bilingual, or get someone who is fluent to beta that shit for you. if you don’t have the skillset or resources to do it right, there’s a real risk of cultural appropriation and fetishizing someone’s foreignness, so I’d steer clear. there’s the question of what it adds to the experience of the fic, as a reader or a writer, that has to be considered
18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?
afi rpf, and I dead-ass thought I’d invented it. you shoulda seen my brain explode when i discovered an entire archive just for that.
19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?
I’ve reached a level of pride in my skill that I love most of the fics I finish—if I don’t, I tend not to finish or post! so I’m usually enamored with my most recent stories and have a deep appreciation for most of my gallery. but I do literally have a girl out boy tattoo and that universe (and how my amazing readers participated in building it with me) will always be the most personally important to me, regardless of whether its technical merit is outstripped by newer works
i tag--who wants to do this tag? @leyley09 @sir-transcelot @alienfuckeronmain @carbonbased000 @allkindsofplatinumandpercocet @rhea-imagined @all my other lovelies who feel like doing writing reflection as a means of procrastinating actual writing
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