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elusivecagedmockingbird · 2 months

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Untitled

[jungkook x reader]

"You wanna know about art? When the class president starts touching my face on darkened street corners, and talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal."

Or THE popular fuckboy in your campus suddenly signs up as the figure model to one of your extracurricular activities and starts showing his interest in you.

A/N: I'm not sure where I went with this. Thus, untitled. I'm not even sure where this falls in the tags. But, enjoy!

Jungkook is at odds with himself.

Part of him wants to leave and forget about this stupid idea. He doesn't know what compelled him to listen to Jin. What exactly does the old man know about dating anyway? As far as he knows, he's never seen him with the same girl, so maybe he should have reached out to Namjoon instead.

The other part is hyping himself up. In about a few minutes, you’ll be coming through those doors. Besides, it would be too late to back out now. He chugs his bottled water as if he were thirsty. Jungkook thinks he'll pass out from anxiety. If not that, then from how warm it is inside this garage turned makeshift studio.

He feels the beads of sweat trickle down his back and pits.

This is not good.

The class is about to start and he'll be stripping down to his boxers and he's all sweaty. Thinking about that uneventful possibility, makes him sweat more.

Fuck.

He notices someone walk towards the corner he has been hiding in. Judging by how good-looking his face is and the vintage clothing he wears, Jungkook surmises this must be the Senior organizing this art class. Taeyong? Taehyun?

Ah, Taehyung, he remembers.

"You're Jungkook, right?"

Jungkook only nods as a response. His dry throat keeps him from speaking, afraid he squeaks out a reply and embarrasses himself more.

Thankfully, the other man is kind enough to not assume his silence as being standoffish.

"Nervous, huh?" Taehyung smirks, but Jungkook doesn't feel like he's being provoked. Rather, it actually calms him—at least the idea that it must be a common occurrence for models to exude this much anxiety that it's the first question people assume.

"That obvious, huh?" A dry chuckle following. "Do all models get nervous on their first time?" Jungkook finally finds his voice. Albeit, a bit meek for someone with a strong commanding aura.

Taehyung smiles and nods. "More than you expect. Which is understandable. Jin hyung told me you're doing this to learn more about art?"

No, he isn't, he internally protests. He doesn't know what Jin told Taehyung, but the real reason he's here on a Sunday, as a supposed 'volunteer' model for a drawing class is because of you.

The rest, he let Jin fill it out.

But of course, he wouldn't divulge those. So, Jungkook clears his throat before responding with a meek 'yes' as he shoots his empty water bottle in the can, making a clanging noise. He smiles sheepishly at the circled crowd whose attention he caught. He cringes at how much he's going out of his way to act cool. He's never this way, and yet, he wants to make sure you witness him with his best foot forward today.

Jungkook sways on the balls on his feet, taking in the space when he sees you—just as you were hooking your bag in your chair.

Goddamn, you're pretty. He's watching you laugh with another girl stationed near your spot as you lay out your tools on your table.

"Ready when you are." Taehyung breaks him out of his trance, and he replies with a sheepish nod—pretending he wasn't caught staring at you.

Jungkook starts by taking off his shoes, then his leather jacket. He unbuttons his pants and the thought that you would be looking at his crotch makes him blush. He shamelessly imagines you and him as Jack and Rose in that sketching scene. But before he can pull his jeans down, a booming baritone voice hollers at him.

Taehyung hurries towards him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

Jungkook freezes at the sudden aggression. His mouth puckers open and close like a fish coming up for air, as he struggles to come up with a reply.

Taehyung tilts his head and assesses the young man with a pout. "Did Seokjin not tell you this isn't a nude class? We just need you to strip to your shirt and jeans," Taehyung clarifies in a whisper.

Embarrassment floods Jungkook and he sputters out an apology. He silently curses himself between nervous laughs and incoherent words of what seemed to be apologies. Shy doe eyes peeps at you and the confused and scandalized look painted on your face makes him want to get swallowed by the ground and never reappear in front of you ever again.

You must think he’s some kind of a creep or worse, a flasher. With a big exhale, he tries to set aside the embarrassment and go through this. It's already bad enough that his nerves and recent embarrassment made a sweat stain on his shirt.

Not long after, Jungkook stands in the middle of the circle of easels. It actually isn't bad, he thinks. Most of the time, he's staring at wood stands and the occasional heads peeking out of the canvas.

You're on his side, so he can only see you through his peripheral vision. Even so, he can already visualize the vein popping on your forehead when you concentrate—just one of the things he adores on your face.

That afternoon, Jungkook finds out he likes the thought of you paying this much attention and focus on him, instead of the other way around.

He holds his growing smile at bay.

The hour-long class went quicker than Jungkook wanted. He takes his time picking up his jacket and pretends to search for something in his bag as he waits for you to pack up. But, you never rise from your seat.

It takes Taehyung tapping your shoulder to bring you out of your world. "You still get tomorrow, Y/N," he hears Taehyung remind you before walking around the room, checking progress.

Jungkook didn't mean to eavesdrop more, but when you stood up and followed Taehyung, he couldn't help but tune in to your conversation.

"I need a little more time to fix a few edges. Can I just extend for a while? I'll clean up the supplies room." You plead, voice kept low as if you're making an illegal trade with Taehyung.

Jungkook hears the older man sigh and call your name softly. "You still have tomorrow to work on it, and the next few days. Plus, I can't suddenly ask the model to stay just for you."

You whine petulantly like a child and Jungkook wonders if he can make you whine under different situations. Perhaps, under hi—

"He can go. I just need—"

The moment he makes out your reply, Jungkook was quick to cut you off and offer his time. "I can stay for a while."

Both you and Taehyung turn your heads to face the man who looks like a deer caught in the headlights, but he might as well have been. Your glowered confused eyes stare into him. "I-if you want," he stutters, so he tries to salvage his image with an obviously feigned nonchalant shrug.

Taehyung holds back his laugh but the sudden expulsion of air from his nose wasn't amiss, earning a side eye from you.

"No need," you answer with finality. "You get paid by the hour, right? I can't pay you and—"

"You don't have to pay me. I'm offering." Jungkook internally winces at how quick he was in offering himself. But if he were being honest, he would stay in this shoddy garage all night, through the blazing summer heat, as long as it's time spent with you.

Is it a crime that he's quick to take an opportunity when it has presented itself?

He thinks abso-fucking-lutely not.

Your eyebrows furrow, the 'I wasn't done talking' death glare you directed at Jungkook has him shift awkwardly on his foot and look everywhere else but at you.

"Still, I'd get in trouble for requesting more time, anyway. Can't have other students think Taehyung here has favorites." You press and it chips a bit of his confidence. It was obvious you didn't want him to stay. If he keeps insisting, you might think he's creepy.

Jungkook didn't want to seem too pushy anyway, and so, lets out a defeated "Oh.." and nods. His round eyes making it easy to see his dismay as it curves downwards a little at the sides.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Taehyung intervenes. The older man was amused as he watched Jungkook flounder around you, he also knows how oblivious and dismissive you are of guys like Jungkook to a fault. And so, he helps.

Ah, young love, Taehyung muses. "Just make sure to clean up and lock up after." He tosses the keys to you, but you make no movement of catching it, letting the keys hit your chest and fall to the ground.

Now your glare is directed towards your sunbaenim. "On second thought, I'm wrapping it up for tonight then." You head towards your easel to pack up your stuff.

Taehyung sighs.

He tells Jungkook to wait a bit and pick up the keys as he follows after you, calling your name.

“Just take the guy's offer to help. He’s trying to learn more about art, too,” he whispers, arms crossing across his chest. "Isn't this the piece you're submitting with your application? I know that head of yours will run nonstop if you don't finish what you intended to do tonight." Taehyung nudges you with a smile and softly jabs his pointer finger to your temple, making you chuckle with a pout. You shoo his hand away from your face and he knows he got you to stay.

This Jungkook kid owes him, Taehyung thinks.

However, from where Jungkook stands, he sees you breaking out the cutest smile at Taehyung. His eyes even going bigger at what he believes is an affectionate touch to your face when Taehyung boops your forehead.

Is that even ethical or something, he wonders irately. Taehyung isn't much older but given that he's your sunbaenim, Jungkook thinks he shouldn't be doing that. Or even be standing close to you. He's currently throwing imaginary lasers at Taehyung's back when you both turn to him and he immediately unsquints his eyes.

"Jungkook, do you still want to stay?" Taehyung shouts at the young man.

Yes.

A hundred times yes. He's a lovesick loyal puppy and if you ask him to bark, he'll bark for you.

Jungkook nods enthusiastically and rushes closer to where you stand, eager to wedge himself between you and Taehyung.

"Jungkook," you sigh his name tiredly. "I really need you to stop moving your head. Is there something more interesting behind me?" The question was rhetorical, but you're starting to wonder what he keeps on staring at behind you that you turn your head, only to be greeted with a wall filled with hanged canvases.

You hear him mumble out a you with a smirk, but was quick to cover it up with a sorry. This guy think he was slick.

Jungkook turns his head to assume his supposed pose. His eyes still filled with mirth. And he lasts about four minutes before his head starts turning towards you. Again.

You throw your head forward with an exhausted groan. This was a mistake. You're growing more frustrated by the minute. Maybe you should call it a night.

Looking back up at your model, you tell him he can leave.

Jungkook breaks his stance then quickly poses as he quickly persuades you. "No, I'll stay still. Look," he promises and follows through quickly by holding the pose.

"No, I'm just really too tired for tonight. Thank you for staying a bit longer." You busy yourself by grabbing at your stuff, cleaning pencil shards here and there to keep the lurking unease.

You can't have a breakdown here again, you admonish yourself. And it's going to feel worse after, if Jungkook's here to see it happen. You keep your head down while your hands wipe the charcoal dust on the table.

You hear footsteps nearing you, and you pray to whoever listens that he's not actually coming closer. He calls your name, his voice close and soft. You hum in response, head still hung low, refusing to face him.

Jungkook sees you rubbing an eraser at a blank surface and purses his lips. He finally got the chance to spend time with you and he was hoping to break the ice and get closer to you, but he does this—he upset you and wasted your time. You're not gonna want to spend more time with him after this.

"I-I'm sorry. I really wanted to help. I can stay again tomorrow to make up for tonight," he offers. Everything about him screams eagerness and he must really be interested in art to be willing to stay in the garage-slash-studio during this Summer heat.

You feel the tingling pressure in your throat and your lips quiver. You clear your throat and will away the tears before it breaks through your paper wall.

"No. You did great, Jungkook. I'm just not feeling well tonight." Your voice was too soft, but at least it didn't break.

Jungkook walks past you and turns to face you, hands making contact with your shoulder. "Are you sick? I have some medicine in my bag," he offers. He retracts his hand and unzips his bag to take out whatever medicine he had stashed inside.

It's his genuine concern that does it for you. You suddenly sob and cover your face with your hands.

"Oh, Y/N, are you okay? Does something hurt?" He didn't expect this. Jungkook was taken aback and his worried eyes looked for signs of where you could have been hurt.

Your sobs turned to full-on bawling and Jungkook was quick to take you into his arms. He lets you cry and occasionally whispers assurances between your weeping despite not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears.

In that moment, you stood illuminated by harsh yellowish fluorescent lights like a Gustav Klimt painting on display. The A/C humming noise drowned out by your hiccups and his whispers.

You were the first to pull away. He didn't mean to, but the moment you separated from Jungkook and lowered your hands from your face, he laughed.

Offended at his reaction, you push him away and quickly gather your bag hanging on the chair.

"Wait," he calls for you as he fumbles to pick up the bag he let fall to the floor.

He calls your name but you decidedly ignore him, feet shuffling quickly to leave the garage.

Fucking ass, you think. You're mortified. You already dread tomorrow as your imagination runs wild. What if he tells his friends about your ugly crying? You think you don't care what frat guys think, but you still definitely don't want to be the talk of the campus. You've only transferred here last year and after being briefed by your friend on who to avoid, you made sure not to have a run in with guys like Jungkook.

This is exactly why you were holding everything in earlier. Every stereotype of frat guys being huge assholes behind the charming facade were true.

A flash of high school memories ambush you and you just want to get to your dorm and hide in your blankets. You'll just have to miss tomorrow's class, you plan.

You violently shrug when you feel a hand grip your wrist.

"Hey, will you wait," Jungkook pleads. You turn to face him and see him reach something in his pockets.

Fuck. He's not going to take a photo, isn't he?

You were ready to lunge at him, anything to prevent him from taking a snap at your post-bawl blotched face, when all of sudden, a soft cloth touched your face.

Jungkook chuckles at your startled face.

"You have charcoal smudged all over your face," he points out. His bunny teeth peeks through his curved lips and the sides of his eyes wrinkle from amusement.

"Oh." You visibly flinch when he uses his thumb to brush the apple of your cheeks.

"There," he smiles, eyes fixated on his finger caressing your skin.

"You know you really have pretty eyes."

If you were in a romantic movie, his line would have panned out well. But you're not, so cue the sound of glass breaking to signify a shattered moment.

To think, you bought his act. You thought, here's a deviant frat boy species. Maybe not all of them are only interested in girls and booze. You even thought this Jeon Jungkook isn't so bad.

Until he says that.

Breaking away and stepping back from him, you humorlessly laugh in disbelief.

"You're a fucking cliché, Jungkook. Does this babble usually work on chicks?" You take a look at him and he has the audacity to look unaware of how hokey the situation is.

"Wha—" Poor boy couldn't even finish his sentence, you thought.

"Y/N, I'm not following."

You were about to make a joke on flies flying straight to his agape mouth but you hold yourself back. Instead, you make a gesture of shaking your head as you force out another dry laugh. You look at him one last time and walk away from the frat boy once again.

You hear his footsteps follow you, along with calls of your name. "Did I say something wrong?"

You stop as you reach the threshold—you're almost out of the garage and out into the cold dark night, ready to rush into the safety of your dorm and away from sleazy college boys.

But something in you compels you to turn, and so you do. "Yes, Jungkook. You did." Your hands grip your bag tighter, feet taking a couple of steps back into the garage, to the shoddy light so he can see you.

"Did you really think this charming ‘oh-i’m-clueless act was going to drop panties? You wanna know about art?" You hurl the question; voice no longer shaky and unsure. "When the campus playboy starts touching my face on dimly lit spaces, and starts talking about my eyes, there's a word for it. There's an entire movement in the 20's—it's called surreal." You roll your eyes at him before making your exit.

It takes a minute for Jungkook to get his body to move. And when he does, you're already a distance away. Almost gone from his sight.

This is the second time today that you rendered him immobile and speechless. Just what the fuck did he do?

Meanwhile, you cursed at Jeon Jungkook on your entire walk home. Fuck him and his round innocent eyes for throwing the bees and butterflies in your stomach into chaos.

You tell yourself you dodged a bullet and that was just a ploy for him to get into your pants. You should actually congratulate yourself for turning away one of the notorious womanizers. Your roommate would be proud of you.

Still, you couldn't deny the jolt you felt in your chest when he touched your face and spewed those cheesy lines about your eyes.

You grunt as you slam the door to your dorm.

"Damn. Who pissed you off?" Jihyo, your roommate stares at you across her table.

You heave a sigh of exhaustion and plop yourself on the carpeted floor. "Had a run in with a frat guy," you spit with a scowl. "You remember the guy you were talking about last week? Jungkook? He's the model for this week."

"Seriously? That's..." Jihyo's head tilted sideways as she looked for the right word, brows furrowing. "Out of character for him."

You raise your head and prop your arms to face your roommate. "Right? That's what I thought, but Taehyung said he was interested in learning art."

At this, Jihyo pauses while eating and guffaws. "Is he for real?"

You roll your eyes at no one in particular and rest your head on your palms as your other hand plucks at the carpet. "Nah, I'm pretty sure he was just there to pick up girls."

Jihyo squints at you, suddenly alert as she senses something you haven't told her yet.

"He hit on me," you start. Already growing flustered at the recollection of the afternoon. "You know those cheesy lines from romcoms, he actually used them on me." You went on detail by detail about what happened and ended your story with a shudder. "This is the first time I might dread going to the class."

"Yep, I see why he thinks he could get away with the cheesiest line," Jihyo murmurs. Apparently, during your story, Jihyo picked up her phone and started to stalk Jungkook's profile. "I mean shame it wasn't nude because have you seen this body?" She flips her phone so you can see her screen.

"What? That's not Jungkook." You stand from your spot and walk closer to Jihyo and snatch the phone. "This isn't Jungkook."

"What are you talking about? That’s literally his profile,” Jihyo takes her phone back, wanting to take another look if you’re looking at the same thing. “See, Kim Jongkook. He’s the notorious fuck boy, probably in all departments. Good thing is, he’s graduating this year.”

Oh, fuck.

>> Still Untitled

#jungkook #bts #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts fic

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 7 months

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Halloween prompts year 2 day 15

Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.

All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.

Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.

Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.

As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...

---

Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.

They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.

His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.

If they would have lived much longer at all

Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost

Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.

The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.

That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.

There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.

Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.

Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.

Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.

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gilmore-angel · 1 year

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unexpected pleasures || A.T x fem!reader

summary ♱ reader has just wed the infamous aemond targaryen, and though she's nervous, she will soon discover there are many pleasurable things to come (tldr reader gets finger fucked good)

warnings/contains ♱ arranged marriage, awkwardness at first, smut obvi, sub!reader dom!aemond, fingering, praise kink!! use of good girl, pretty girl, wife. overall very fluffy!! soft!aemond<3. let me know if I should add anything else!!

authors note ♱ okok this is probably trash but I'm literally forcing myself to write rn<3 lol anyways this is also my first time actually writing for aemond which is crazy bc I've been obsessed with him since like early January💀. if you enjoy please reblog! likes are obviously appreciated but reblogs are the thing that actually help the writer<3 oh and lmk if you want a part two!!

navigation 𔓕 follow and turn on notifications for @baysfics to know when I post my writings

married life isn't so bad after all.

of course, you've only been married for about three hours now, but it's going better than expected, which at this point is all you can hope for.

your new husband, prince aemond, has been quite pleasant thus far. you have only had roughly six full conversations since you were betrothed two months ago, but based off of them he was very polite and well educated.

though you had dreaded the wedding day, everything had gone smoothly. the ceremony itself was a big event, full of lords and ladies you didn't even know the house of, all eager to get on the new princesses good side. and of course there was the kiss you shared with aemond, one that sent an unknown feeling through you, settling at your lower belly. and now, the grand feast to celebrate the union.

it had less people there, only family and the very important houses were allowed to attend. you sat at the table in the middle, sitting in the center along with your husband. on your other side sat your father, mother and siblings, the same went for aemond. your husband stayed mostly silent during the feast, only speaking when spoken to.

your belly slightly ached with nerves for what was coming next; the bedding. thankfully, the queen had insisted upon a private bedding, just as she did for her other children when they wed. the action soothed your nerves a bit, but they still clung to you.

you had been warned by your mother that the bedding was an uncomfortable and painful process for the woman. but she also informed you that it is something all woman must do to please their lord husband and produce heirs.

you felt your heart sink when the king stood up weakly to announce it was time for you and aemond to head to your chambers. you both stood up and gave your goodbyes, your mother giving you a reassuring smile before you left.

there was an awkward silence as you walked with your husband to your chambers, escorted by guards. you glanced at him, only to see him looking straight ahead, blank expression on his handsome face.

once you arrived the guards pushed open the heavy wooden doors. you gave them a small smile in thanks before aemond dismissed them. as the doors closed aemond let out a small shaky sigh, you couldn't tell if it was out of nervousness or dread. you both stood awkwardly, unsure of where to begin. he spoke first, breaking the deafening silence.

"would you like help taking down your hair?" he blurted out. you nodded, giving him a awkward small smile.

"please," you moved past him to sit at the vanity. you began taking out the many odd placed pins and braids in your hair. aemond came up from behind you to start assisting in the process. the feeling of his long fingers in your hair made up for the times he would accidentally tugged too hard trying to take down the hairstyle. you both worked in silence, the only word spoken was his occasional 'sorry's when he would notice you wince.

now that your hair was down, the room was once again filled with an thick silence. eventually you stood up, turning to face him. you sucked in a breath, looking up at him nervously.

"should i..... should I remove my clothes, my prince?"

his eyes widened at the question, but he nodded, "yes, my lady... I can help."

he moved behind you, undoing the laces of the dress with shaky fingers. the gorgeous dress fell to the floor, pooling around your feet. you stepped out of the dress, leaving you in a silky shift and small clothes. you felt quite vulnerable as you begun taking your shift off, even more so once it was gone.

aemond let out a shaky breath at the sight of you in nothing but your small clothes. he looks up and down your body, desire filling his eye. he walks closer to you, looking deep into your eyes.

"may I kiss you, my lady?" he asked, his usual cold tone gone, now replaced with a soft, caring one. you nod, eyes wide.

aemond smiled softly before leaning down and kissing your soft lips. this kiss was unlike the other one you both had shared just hours before. this one was out of pure want, not obligation.

you gasp softly against his lips when he deepened the kiss, your hands flying up to his strong shoulders. his hands found home on your hips. he pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, "is this okay?"

you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes. "yes, my prince, I just... I don't really know how to do this properly."

he smiles at you softly, moving one of his hands to caress your cheek gently.

"that's okay, just copy what I do, okay?"

he leans back in, kissing at a slow pace. his lips are soft and warm against your own. you feel something wet poking at your bottom lip and soon realize it's his tongue. you open your mouth slightly and gasp when he slides his tongue in, exploring where he can reach. the sensation causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips.

he begins pushing you backwards gently until the back of your knees hit the edge of the plush bed behind you, causing you to lay down on it. to your surprise, aemond gets on his knees before you and pulls you down so your legs hang off the bed. leaning up on your elbows you look down at him extremely confused. "my prince... what are you doing?"

he simply smiled and blushed, "let me know if you wish to stop, okay my lady?". his big calloused hands went up and down your thighs, pulling them apart. you laid back, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes. his hands eventually found their way to your small clothes.

"may I remove these, my lady?" one hand continued rubbing you thigh gently. you hum and nod. that wasn't good enough apparently and aemond lightly pinched your thigh. "words, wife. I need to hear some words out of those pretty lips."

you blushed deeply, taking a deep breath, "yes, please take them off."

he smiles, murmuring under his breath "good girl". you felt a tingle in your lower belly, growing each time he touched or talked to you.

he carefully slid your small clothes off, throwing them somewhere in the room. he sucked in a big breath at the sight of your bare cunt. you squirmed slightly, his gaze lighting you on fire almost.

"may I touch you, wife?" he spoke softly, a poorly hidden desire behind the words.

you nod but quickly remember what he told you. "yes, you may."

with one hand he softly rubbed your thigh, with the other he rubbed one finger up and down your lips, pushing past them and exploring the wet outside. your back slightly arched at the unknown but not unwelcomed feeling. he moved his finger higher until he found your clit. a high pitched whimper escaped your lips at his soft but achingly good touch.

he looked up at you with a sweet smile. "does that feel nice, wife?". his finger moved in gentle circles, pressing ever so slightly.

a few breathy whimpers and moans slipped out of your mouth. "yes," you breathed, "so so nice..."

he let out a hmm, continuing his movements. he moved his finger up and down, gathering your wetness and then spreading it around your sensitive clit. as he rubbed on your bundle of nerves, his other hand came up, softly pressing against your slit.

"this may feel strange, my lady, but I promise it'll feel so good soon, okay?" he pushed a long thick finger into your previously untouched hole, groaning at how tight you were. your back arched off the bed as a loud moan rang around the room. he slowly started moving it in and out, sending waves of pleasure through your body when he curled his finger upwards. your gummy walls tightened around him, almost as tight as he cock felt in his trousers.

he looked up to see your reaction, smiling when he saw your head thrown back in pleasure. soft whimpers left your mouth as his movements quickened.

"may I add a second finger, sweet girl?" something about the way he said the affectionate name sent chills down your spine as you slightly bucked against his hand.

"hmmph, yes, yes please husband." he smirked as he added a second finger. he pumped them in and out fast, his other hand still focused on your puffy clit.

suddenly a new feeling hit you. like some sort of knot in your belly, ready to explode any second. a panicked expression washed over you at the strange sensation.

"aemond, aemond! something is, fuck, happening!" you cried desperately, clenching the sheets beneath you hard.

"shh, it's okay, it'll feel so good. just let it happen sweet girl." it was too much and too little, it was overwhelming yet you needed more. it hurt but felt so so right.

before you could reply waves and waves of pleasure washed over you, drowning you in the feeling of him. your whole body shook, hips bucking wildly into his hand. creamy white cum drooled onto his fingers and hand. he groaned at the sight and fucked you through your peak.

he eventually slid his hand out and climbed up the bed, hovering over you. he brought his cum covered fingers to you mouth, "open," he commanded softly, sucking in a shaky breath when you wrapped you lips around them. he pulled them out, moving to caress your cheek, "such a good girl."

he began kissing your neck, trailing his hand back down to your thighs. you whimpered sweetly causing him to chuckle.

"oh, sweet wife, we are just getting started."

#aemond Targaryen #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #bay writes🌻

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ohara-n-brown · 1 month

Text

The way people talk over Black Autistic people is... Mind-Boggling. Truly.

There are so many people in the autistic community that genuinely believe that them and Black Autistic people have the same experience, and that everything Black Autistic people go through they go through as well.

That's NOT TRUE.

Black Autistics face more questioning and doubt than White Autistics do.

Yes, all Autistics face doubt.

But when White Autistics face doubt they're often told 'You aren't autistic' - as in YOU in specific are not Autistic.

Meanwhile when Black Autistics face doubt we're often told 'You CAN'T be autistic'. Not just 'You aren't', but you can't.

As in 'You physically, biologically CANNOT be autistic because you are black'.

Do you see the difference?

I've had multiple people say to me 'I didn't know you can be black and autistic', or 'I didn't know black autistic people existed.'

Our mere existence as an entire GROUP is called into question. Because of our race.

No one will ever say 'I didn't know you can be white and autistic' because Autistic Representation revolves around Whiteness.

And yes, 99% of people with autism had communication issues.

But if you're a white autistic person you have never had to decode micoagressive racism through the lens of your autism.

- Especially at risk of your safety or life.

Allistic black people already have to carefully choose our behavior and wording with law enforcement under threat of imprisonment or outright on-the-spot execution.

Now imagine having to navigate conversations with law enforcement while also autistic.

Especially knowing that most of the time when a mentally disabled person is killed by law enforcement - they are usually also black.

Elijah McClain and Ryan Gainer - both autistic AND BLACK. Osaze Osagie - also black.

So even if you say that all autistic people experience this, it's very clear that Black Autistic people face it to a higher, more dangerous degree.

We are not 1:1. We are not the same.

This doesn't even factor in things like having to learn to codeswitch or speak AAVE. Or how predominately black schools have less resources for their autistic students.

Or how many professionals in mental health DON'T diagnose black people because they've never studied the Black Autistic experience, and thus cannot spot it.

Or how many Black people that ARE identified to be neurodivergent are instead labeled with ODD or BPD instead.

There are so many layers and factors to this that cannot be ignored.

The autism community needs to get better at understanding intersectionality. We need to get better at representing Autistics of color for ALL levels.

And y'all need to stop talking over Black Autistics. Our experiences are not the same. And that's okay.

#neurodivergent #actually autistic #autism #audhd #neurodivergency #neurodiversity #actually audhd #actually autism #poc #bipoc #intersectionality #racism #anti blackness #antiblackness #black erasure #poc representation

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bokettochild · 2 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes!

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle!

But who really listens to him anyway?

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying.

Twilight and Wild are their own story.

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them?

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be.

He told the champion to stay.

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to.

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done.

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where!

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids.

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely.

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t.

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance.

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice.

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice.

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs.

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here.

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand.

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time?

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him.

More tracks join the mix; an ambush.

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.

Not great odds for one already injured rancher.

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight.

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done.

“There you are, rancher.”

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor.

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic.

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open.

“Cap’n?”

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with.

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.”

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.

“The others?”

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless.

“Wild?”

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable.

“The kids?”

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.”

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic.

“Yer upset.”

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?”

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself.

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.”

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards.

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?”

“I said stay still.”

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Why are you actin’ like this then?”

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though.

“Wars?”

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.”

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was.

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out.

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-”

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?”

A tick. “What does that mean?”

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.”

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished.

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,”

He doesn’t answer.

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.”

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.”

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place.

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?”

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.”

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.”

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-”

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns.

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise.

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp.

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone.

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into.

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor!

#asks and answers #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu twilight #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump #ketto writes #dad warriors #he is not ready to be a grandpa guys #but is very weak to the puppy children in this group #he will not admit it #but he is #yes i am referencing the update like a madwoman #it's free warriors and twi angst though!#can you blame me?

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badchoicesworld · 10 months

Note

i hear you requested requests! ive got one!!

hobie x masc reader that's gwens older brother (ik its not canon, but the canon can fuck itself) (sorry miggy)

i dont really have anything in mind for reader's personality or whatever (so thats up to you!) but id like if reader liked to draw (thus ended up drawing hobie and got caught by him hahaha cliches i love them)

where hobie meets gwens older brother (you !)

hobie x masc!reader

this actually gave me hella ideas, im gonna link it to what happened in the movie (sorry it took a while, life fucked me)

didn’t specify if it was platonic or romantic (WHICH IS FINE ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥) so i’ve just done general shit for both lmao

warnings: none

pairing: hobie brown x masc!reader

requests: open, i cant let the demons catch me

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

when you first meet hobie you’re so very thankful to him for taking care of your little sister

if gwen managed to hide her being ghost-spider from your guys’ dad, then she likely hid it from you, too

but obviously, your dads gonna have to tell you why gwen didn’t come home one day

you’re crushed, naturally. likely furious at your own dad for literally firing a warning shot at her

might have ran away yourself, maybe hobie comes to your rescue too

or maybe you two meet while hobie’s dropping off his homemade gizmo for gwen, and you’re so unbelievably thankful for him and his generosity when you meet him

of course you will be, he took your sister in while you couldn’t do anything to help

hobie’s probably side-eyeing yours and gwens dad but is happy to get along with you if you’re gwens bother

he cant stay for long at that moment in time, got a multiverse to save and all that

but the brief interaction opens doors to many opportunities in the future

hobie gets to hear about the brief reunion between you and gwen from her, after she went back to her own dimension before it was show time

he becomes very intrigued by you

next time you two meet is likely after they save the multiverse (WHICH THEY WILL WITH ZERO CASUALTIES UNLESS ITS MIGUEL.)

BUT GENERALLY SPEAKING NOW

miguel definitely doesn’t approve of hobie using his watch to travel dimensions just to see you or gwen, still does anyway if he doesn’t just build his own

probably came to see gwen, pick her up to bring him to his own dimension, whatever

sees you instead, target acquired

hobie’s heard plenty about you from gwen, likes to think you aren’t strangers so is super friendly, overly even

catches you in your room, drawing in a well loved sketchbook

definitely does that thing where he just fucking appears behind you, he’s that quiet when walking despite the accessories

he’s looking over your shoulder while you draw silently, you might be too distracted to notice or you’re immediately started by him

smug asf when you finally catch on, is especially entertained if he’s caught you drawing him, god forbid

wouldn’t be surprised though, he likes to make people stare so is honestly complimented if you’ve been trying to draw him since first seeing him

doesn’t just snatch ur sketchbook and start looking through it though, unlike someone

as an artist, he gets it

you’re probably super protective over ur sketchbook actually because of gwen, smh

will probably banter a little bit about that, tease something about gwen that you’d both be victim to, like her tendency to borrow things without permission

find common ground yknow

“ain’t it a pain when she [gwen activities]” but you’re not being mean ur bonding it’s fine, we don’t slander gwen (i do however have some strong words)

starts hanging out with you on the odd chances gwen isn’t home, just casually in your room at first

starts off talking about your guys’ interests, seeing if you have things in common

probably listening to music together

the closer you get, he starts to actually travel dimensions just to see you

casually waves to gwen before ducking into your room

is happy to just kick back there, but is also happy to go out and do things at that point

the more you hang out, the more your dad and gwen begin to tease you- which is nothing in comparison to the shit hobie faces

gwen easily told everyone else about you two hanging out, he never hears the end of it now regardless of dimension

hobie starts using the front door instead of just appearing in your room “son, your boyfriend’s here” ur devastated why would ur dad say that

THENN hobie starts to come to your dimension for you more than gwen, has probably already invited you back to his once or twice but now he’s a lot more frequent with invites, wants you to consider his place a second home (in case you ever wanna run from home, cough)

say something does blossom between you two, obviously you don’t label it cause hobie’s not about that

you get promoted from “gwens brother” to “hobie’s boyfriend” at some point even if you don’t use labels- that’s only if ur not like too close to the rest of the friend group, but i imagine you’ve gotta be

hobie probably talks more about being spider-man relatively early on considering the topic, but since you know his secret identity it doesn’t really matter to him

the closer you are, the more into his stories he is

is ready to reenact the whole thing for you now so it’s like you were there

draw each other, i dare u

make playlists for each other, perhaps ?

there’s a lot of gwen snitching to each of you

and then you two do with that information together what you will later

like if you’re just being gay for each other it’s wild how fast gwen goes to the other and is like “guess what he said” she is not slick about it

hobie can be found at ur place more often then not, your dads a little more iffy about you going to a different dimension

still, very grateful to be welcome in your home but hobie definitely prefers to kick back at his

hobie loves to bother gwen about your whereabouts, if you are a thing or not “where’s your brother at?” he’s pretending to be cool about it

does your dad approve ? who cares

but nah he’s way more open minded after the incident, thinks hobie is a peace of work and probably his own son too if you’ve got a similar personality, in that case you’re perfect for each other

if not he’s just happy you’re happy, that’s all he cares about

obviously gwen supports it, likes to claim she introduced you guys and you owe your relationship to her when she tries to win in an argument/conversation

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

#across the spiderverse #headcanon #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #imagine #atsv hobie #oneshot #ask #male reader #hobie x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown x masc!reader #atsv gwen

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planetdream · 8 months

Text

STRANGE DREAMS ! [TEASER]

CHARACTERS ! demon!hyunjin x human!reader

GENRE ! horror. smut.

WORDS ! 792 [teaser] | approx. 6.2k [at time of posting teaser]

SYNOPSIS ! sometimes, you meet a strange man in your dreams. this is one of those times.

THIS FIC WILL CONTAIN ! edible-fueled writing. horror [potential gore—descriptions of blood. frightening figures and situations. descriptions of drowning. nightmares and sleep paralysis. demons, and thus], references to biblical lore [christianity] and small references to milton's paradise lost, if you squint. smut [d/s dynamics—predator versus prey. corruption. sex pollen. sexual manipulation]. and a lot of other things :) POSTED

⚠️ no gore in this teaser of course ⚠️

The physical energy of the presence behind you is familiar, but strikingly overwhelming—it crawls up your skin like sharp nails, giving you goosebumps—you don’t need to turn around to recognize it. It’s Him. You’re unsure of what he is, exactly, but sometimes you meet him in your dreams. Though deep down you know that his existence and connection to you reaches well beyond the odd worlds of your dream realm. When he touches you, your surroundings change. The waterfall that you were once at is yards away, tiny in perspective. Despite having not moved an inch, it seems that every time you blink, you’re further and further into the woods; trees surrounding you and most certain to bury any noises emitted within their leaves.

The rustling of the tree leaves sounds like a screech, almost like sharp nails against a chalkboard—sinking deep and clashing, scraping out the porcelain enamel. The sound alone affects your brain, echoing in your mind, blaring enough to make you hold your hand against your head. The sound stops once he presses his hand against your cheek—so cold it feels like burning fire, almost scalding enough to melt off your skin; but you do not flinch, nor do you back away, frozen in place. The feeling of his skin against yours evokes an emotional aching so deep, you can feel it festering in the pit of your stomach, spreading across your body and seeping into your veins—and somehow there is comfort in that.

He’s speaking, and while you’re unable to make out the words he is saying, you can tell that his voice is soft, pillowy like a cloud. Honey-laced words dipping from his tongue as if he’s trying to convince or ask something of you. You avert your gaze, unsure of if you actually want to meet his eyes.

His presence scares you just as much as it calms you. Intriguing, and homely but also frightening and domineering despite simply just standing there. Something about his demeanor feels off, or distorted, at the very least, as if he’s not actually in front of you. As if he was a result of your imagination instead of directly in your eyes view. He’s real, a hand against your skin, almost close enough for you to feel his breath lightly against your skin; and at the very least, he knows you. You know him, too, you think; of course, you’ve seen him in your dreams, but you’re inclined to believe you know him from somewhere else.

“Where are we?” You ask him, avoiding eye contact, shaking away from the contact his hand makes with you. Jarringly, it doesn’t feel like you said anything at all. Your mouth was moving and the words presented themselves in your mind and yet you can’t hear a single thing you’re saying. The familiar fire within your throat when you speak is no longer there.

“The Garden. It’s perfect here, isn’t it?” He gives you a small smile, seemingly understanding your indistinct confusion. Then, as he speaks up again, his voice drips with something resembling woe. “You and I used to live here a long time ago. I visit every so often, dip my legs into that spring back there, and then I reminisce on how pure life was back then before…”

You think he’s talking again, but once again, you’re unable to hear him. You’re too busy lost in his face. The urge to press your lips against his gets stronger as you’re next to him. Then you realize he’s naked as well, and your entire body gets warmer. There’s a budding ache inside you that’s all too familiar, growing at a rapid pace. It’s almost like your body is on fire as a result of being within his presence. Hormones floating, hair standing on edge, your more sensual and raw instincts ready to unveil and latch onto him at any time. Head hurting the longer you’re in his presence until it all just stops.

Everything stops. The trees are no longer rustling, birds no longer humming. There’s no splashing of the waterfall nor whistling of the wind. Just pure silence. The silence is uncomfortable, and causes you to stand still in your tracks like a deer, scared that if you make any sudden moves a predator might attack within the blink of an eye.

“Run,” He says. There’s nothing in his voice; no emotion nor a slight hint at what he’s thinking. But the word echoes in your mind, and sends a chill down your spine, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on edge in either curiosity or total blood curdling fear.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to run,” His voice drops lower. “And don’t get caught.”

💌 dreamie comeback season?? with a full fic??? hehe if u read this teaser thank u 😻 i hope i've piqued someones interest,,, this fic is very weird n self indulgent and filthy n im excited to share it 😸 had 2 change some of the writing for this teaser so i don't post anything 2 graphic lol n uuhhh... lemme kno ur thoughts 😻😻

#hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz fanfic #skz smut #idk what to tag this with rip so sorry

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ataraxiaspainting · 25 days

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Can you write for black swan as a yandre?

Lovers Forever, Until The World Falls Down.

Yan Black Swan x F Reader.

Synopsis: Her tarot cards are just as well used to predict the past as they are to predict the future.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, major spoilers for Honkai: Star Rail 2.0 and 2.1 Updates, implied stalking, and mentions of violence/character deaths.

Word Count: 1.3k.

*~*~*~*

When Black Swan’s eyes first lay upon you, she has multiple impressions of you.

The Remembrance has caused her to have manifolds of judgments, some lapses and others more thorough. But never once did the Remembrance ever cause her to be so deeply enveloped in someone that she would proudly showcase what Fuli has blessed her with.

She knows what you are, all of you. Your past, present, and future… all of it is seen within the eyes of the Garden of Recollection.

It is only natural for her to want you to know her as much as she knows you. With social creatures comes the need to connect. When it comes to Black Swan, her wants and her needs are equally important, and thus she has no need to separate them.

“What brings you to me, fair maiden? What ails you?”

The only sounds that arise from you are slight grumbles, and the only fresh sights she has of you are fading tear stains on your cheeks. As a response, she repeats her words softer this time, crosses one of her legs over the other, and rests her head on one of her gloved hands.

“I want…” You start, clenching your nails into your palms so deep they almost bleed. “To know the… thing that killed my friend, Memokeeper.”

In her other hand are a few of her beloved tarot cards, tucked so lovingly between her pointer and middle fingers.

“Ah,” Black Swan lets out a sigh so gentle you do not hear it. “I presume you are speaking of Miss Robin?”

You nod, looking down at your lap as she lays out the cards in a simple, singular motion on the table.

“Who else would I be talking about?” Your tone is that of an angry hiss, but she knows it is not directed at her. For you, you two had only just met. But to her, with the powers that come with the followers of the Remembrance, it feels like she has known you your entire life.

Black Swan’s gaze is all-seeing, and nothing that is not in the dark can be unseen once she has seen it–even when she wishes it were otherwise, like that dance she had with that Galaxy Ranger.

She wishes now that perhaps she was dancing with you instead.

“Pick a card,” The Memokeeper requests, her now free hand gesturing towards the sight she had just made. “We’ll continue from there.”

“Why?”

She shakes her head slightly as she closes her eyes for a moment. From that expression on your face, she can tell that you have to stop yourself from scoffing at her. “Just trust me; I don’t mean any ill will towards you… and nor will I harbor any.”

“I’ve heard odd things like this about you, Miss Black Swan, but I didn’t think they would have been true.” She knows the comment is not an insult, but it is not a compliment either. “Do people blessed by the Remembrance always act like this? I’m… just curious is all.”

When you point to the card on the center’s right. “Are you planning to replace me already? I thought we were getting along quite well…”

She turns over the card as her palm faces you, and that causes you to loudly gasp.

“The Eternal Freeze… Jarillo-VI.”

She turns over the card on the center’s left without asking you to pick another. She stifled a chuckle.

“Cocolia Rand. A Silvermane Guard trapped in what looks to be a block of ice…”

One after the other, things are revealed. It is faster than either of you could catch your breath. It is faster than what you wanted it to go. It is not faster than the realization that hits when Black Swan connects all your memories into a perfectly completed puzzle.

“Stop it-”

“You have lost someone before, haven’t you?” She can imagine… no, presume, the suffocating atmosphere surrounding you, as you appear on the verge of gasping for air. “You couldn’t save them either… Am I right, Miss [First]?”

You don’t answer, but you don’t look angry anymore. Despite the venomous nature of her words, her tone manages to grow even gentler as she utters them.

“Despite everything you tried to do, you couldn’t save them… Who were they, if you don’t mind me asking such a thing, oh dear citizen of Belobog?”

You avert your gaze from her, once again opting not to respond. Black Swan patiently waits, arranging the cards in her hand to create a semi-circle. As a Memokeeper, she has acquired numerous lessons from the Remembrance, but the most valuable one is knowing the significance of patience.

The fingers that wrap around your own are both warm and freezing cold.

“My… partner.”

She tilts her head to the side, her lips pursing up into a kind smile. “Ah… I see… I didn’t know.” She lies. “I’m sorry for your loss. But… my apologies for saying this… if you couldn’t even save your partner from the blizzard, I believe you cannot avenge Miss Robin’s death.”

Your eyebrows simply furrow like she expected them to.

“For Peniconians, death is a grand illusion, a state of falsehood, something that is not supposed to exist within the Dreamscape… thus, something much more powerful than you or I or even the Family had to break the rules of the Harmony and become… well… Death.”

When Black Swan’s eyes look at new tears as they start to fall, she has only two impressions of you, the others fading away like an amnesiac’s memories.

“I don’t mean any harm when I tell you this. It is the truth, plain and simple.”

Her hand squeezes slightly against yours. Once again, you do not respond.

“You do not have to fight something you cannot defeat.” She scoots her chair slightly closer to your side of the table.

She is met by a few more moments of quietness before you ultimately choose to break the silence. “Her death will be in vain then. Just like theirs. I do not want to be a coward anymore.”

Another sigh escapes her lips, and once again it is not out of exhaustion but rather curiosity.

Her grin remains unwavering, just as she had taught herself to. “You were never a coward in the first place, dear.”

Black Swan continues to move her chair quietly, but not at all subtly, until your thighs touch hers.

“I really won’t be able to… at least help the Family?” You ask. “I am really not… useful?”

“You’re useful in other ways to the people you love and trust, and those who reciprocate.” Her initial judgment is that you require safeguarding from the dangers of the world. It is in your best interest, her best interest, to remain inside a safe and small space, as there is a risk of you inadvertently harming yourself while attempting to assist others.

“Am I?” You mutter, clasping your hands together. “Am I… really? People… really like me?”

She affirms with a slight movement of her head.

Black Swan's second opinion of you is that you pose too great of a risk to be released, as it would result in her being left alone without any chance of ever seeing you again.

It is selfishness that prevents her from showing the two remaining cards, both hidden elsewhere. One of which has the depiction of you dead, and the other has you smiling proudly as she watches from afar in hiding.

The Remembrance has taught Black Swan how to be many things, but it is Black Swan who has taught herself how to be selfish.

#i can fix her i swear #yandere #yandere x reader #aya abstractions #yandere honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr #yandere black swan #yandere black swan x reader #black swan x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #300 followers event

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cupids-chamber · 1 year

Text

— I'M GONNA LOVE YOU, RIGHT TILL' YOU HATE ME GENDER NEUTRAL READER

IMAGINE: Yandere!Twst cast, dreaming of the MC, before they ended up Twst, and even though they searched for them, they couldn't quite find them... now that they've found them.. they can't seem to let you go.. how would they feel when they've learned that there are more competitors for your love.

A/N: I'm gonna call this the dreaming of you au! I have some plans for it.. I had to split this in part, because of tumblr's fucking word limit.

SAVANACLAW / HEARTSLABYUL / DIASOMNIA / OCTAVINELLE / SCARABIA + IGNIHYDE / POMEFIORE

He couldn’t recall when the dreams had first started, it was quite suffocating.. Looking back, he was tired of the same dream over and over again, yet it changed.. Slowly, he watched you growing up along with him, it was as if his dreams mirrored your own life.. And at one point, he believed that these vivid dreams held some meaning, there had to be a reason why he’d keep seeing the same person over and over again… At one point, he even started to believe that you were his.. Someone meant for him.. And as he grew older, he couldn’t help but search for you, wanting to validate his thoughts and imagination, which has gotten rather out of hand over the past few years.

He didn’t even consider that others would have taken interest in you as well, ‘did they see you in their dreams as well?’.. The thought would have driven him wild, had he not been patient thus far, he might have truly lost himself then and there.. However, if he had waited this long, then it wouldn’t have been difficult to wait a bit longer.. After all.. He knew you a lot better than you know yourself.. He just needs you to realize.. That you’re his.. and he is yours…

YANDERE!IDIA, He recalls losing sleep, scrolling through the internet, scattering sources, trying to trace your whereabouts, all to no avail.. he remembered your name, that he heard you say once or twice in his dreams, you'd rarely speak to him... how he wished he could approach you in these vivid daydreams.. but your voice played through his head on loop, like a broken record repeating the same tune over and over again, as he recites the dream he had that particular day... You couldn't imagine his shock when he saw you, for the very first time.. he couldn't help but grow jealous when he inquired about how others had seen you beforehand, maybe he should have taken an interest in the so called magicless perfect beforehand, but how could he think of others, while his mind was so incredibly crowded with thoughts of you..

YANDERE!KALIM, Kalim had been a sweetheart from young, he couldn’t have ever guessed that there may have been an underlying meaning to his dreams.. Until he took notice of its repeating nature, he’d have the same dream over and over again, it was quite tedious.. aggravating even.. However, Kalim was known to be patient, unlike his peers. He was always calm, however one shouldn’t confuse his patience as him being dimwitted, sure Kalim wasn’t the brightest in the box, but he wasn’t an utter buffoon, he knew when something was wrong.. well most of the time.. He questioned the dreams, and the day he did.. He dreamt of something different, still his dreams centered around you as always.. And it was quite consistent, soon the old books on dreams and astrology became quite boring to the young child, he picked up a story book.. an odd story book indeed, he never knew this sort of book was in publishing, none the less it was quite conveniently placed near him, and in its contents Kalim came to learn of an odd concept.. dreaming of your soulmate, and dreaming of someone who was born just for him.. The concept seemed quite outdated and far fetched, but he couldn’t help but believe it! Kalim had always been such a hopeless romantic in such scenarios.. One could argue this is how he was raised, or maybe the book had blurred his thoughts.. Yet, when he first laid eyes on you.. he was sure you were meant to be his!.. Anyone who said otherwise, was but an inconvenience.. Just like anyone who gets in his way..

YANDERE!JAMIL, Jamil had been serving Kalim for the longest time, truly he couldn’t catch a break.. not when he was so.. ridiculously annoying.. even during slumber he couldn’t catch a break, ever since you appeared!, truly at first he resented you more than anything, another pestering source of annoyance, ruining his day and mood, yet he was lucky to have never been able to face you, at least then he could loathe you secretly and remain at peace within himself.. But he began despising his dreams for that same reason, fairly soon.. You were.. brilliant. A change to his day to day life, really.. He couldn’t quite recall how he fell for you, just that he had fallen for you.. Around this time Kalim kept blabbering on and on about a certain person he kept meeting in his daydreams, Jamil was too concerned about himself to spare a single care to his words, until he had heard about an unexpected book he had read.. The contents of which interested him quite lots’... ‘Soulmates, that’s ridiculous..!’ He thought, closing the book and refusing to look back, he couldn't delude himself further, he was above thinking of such childish things, and believing the contents of such ludicrous things. Yet he met you, here on the very school grounds.. He didn’t know how to react, maybe the contents of the book weren't as far fetched as he had predicted, maybe the two of you were predestined…

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general-sleepy · 1 year

Text

Just plain babbling about shorthand

Since reading Dracula might be the first time or one of the first times that people have heard about shorthand, I thought I'd take this thin excuse to infodump. Because I find it fascinating and want to share. (Warning ahead of time, watch out for how many darn times I say "for example" in this post).

For some background, shorthand systems of writing have existed for millennia, but in the English-speaking world, the two most common and well-established systems of shorthand are Pitman and Gregg. Odds are that the Harkers are writing in Pitman. It's the older system (created in 1837) and is to this day more common in England and the Commonwealth. Gregg is more common in America and was introduced in 1888, either only a few years after or a few years before Dracula takes place. There were also numerous other less popular systems floating around at the time.

Pitman and Gregg and most other shorthand systems are phonetic. (Teeline is a more modern shorthand system based on a simplified alphabet, which is also quite popular). Simply put, each sound is reduced to one stroke of the pen. In Gregg, for example, the sound "k" (which includes the letter "c) is a medium-sized forward arch, "a" is a large circle, and "ch" is a short, downward diagonal line. So, instead of writing "catch" you just combine the symbols for "k-a-ch." Instead of "become" you just write "b-k-m." (These "words" are known as outlines).

Some shapes represent multiple sounds. For example, a small circle stands for the vowels in "bit," "bet," and "beet." A large circle stands for the vowels in "cap" and "cape." This might sound like it would be confusing rather than simplifying, but it's generally clear from the context.

There are a bunch of other means which allow you to write more quickly. Common words are further shorted into "brief forms." For example, "the" is represented by "th," "after" by "a-f," and "were" by "e-r." Some common endings or beginnings are also abbreviated, so that "sh" at the end of a word can stand in for "-tion" and "f" can mean "for-" or "fore-" at the beginning of a word. Thus, "Permission" is "p-r-m-sh" and "forgive" is "f-g-v." Common phrases can be combined into a single outlines. For example, for "to be" you can write "t-b" instead of "t-u[space]b." "I have not been able" can be "a-v-n-b-a." (The large circle "a" is the brief form for the word "I" in one of the rare quirks of Gregg that isn't basically intuitive).

Pitman Shorthand is very similar to Gregg (or, more accurately, Gregg is similar to Pitman). Other than using different symbols (for example, in Pitman "k" is a short forward line) Pitman differs from Gregg mostly by its use of the thickness of strokes to differentiate sounds. For example, "g" is also a short forward line, with the only difference being that the line for "g" is drawn thicker than "k."

I learned shorthand absolutely because of Dracula, though for convenience I learned Gregg. As of right now, I'm pretty out-of-practice, and honestly I was never particularly fast. (At my best, I probably was on average as fast writing shorthand as cursive longhand; I think faster than printing, though).

If you're at all interested, I really recommend learning some form of shorthand. It's useful in note-taking or when you don't want people to be able to read your writing (if, you know, you're kidnapped by a vampire or trying to write fanfic at work). It's also just a fun hobby and a nifty skill to be able to say you have.

In my opinion, if you want to learn shorthand, Gregg Simplified is a solid option, because the materials are accessible and the system is a good middle-ground between easiness to learn and quickness to write. I taught myself just following along with the Gregg Shorthand Manual Simplified. The book is broken up into 67 short "lessons." I did one or two lessons a week, maybe a few hours of work, and I was "fluent" in less than a year. I also bought a Gregg Simplified Dictionary, but all you need is the Manual.

(Note that the manual is written both assuming you're probably some kind a secretary and in the fifties. So, you'll learn brief forms for super-useful phrases like "dear sir" or "remit." For practice, they have you read and copy these sample letters in shorthand, and it's almost hilarious how almost all the letters to men are about business matters and the letters to women are advertising sales. There is one spectacular letter that's a man writing to a newspaper to cancel his subscription, because he's moved into a house in the suburbs with another man who gets the same paper. I'm legit tempted to go through the manual again just to find that letter.)

Fun fact! The fastest shorthand stenographer ever recorded wrote faster than the fastest typist.

Also fun fact! It's not uncommon for individual people to invent their own brief forms based on words that they use commonly. So, Jonathan might have been writing "c-a-r-p" (or the Pitman equivalent) for "Carpathian" or Mina writing "t-b" for "Whitby" or both of them writing "v-a-m" for vampire. And I'll bet credits to navy beans they had specific brief forms for their favorite trains.

#dracula #dracula daily #shorthand #gregg shorthand #pitman shorthand #the gregg book also is certain that you pronounce the “h” in “wh” words #maybe you still do #but probably you don't #*marge simpson potato meme but with me and shorthand*

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roxasthatisastick · 1 year

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So, wasn't there something weird about Player?

So, its been almost two years since KHUX wrapped up, and there's something I'm still thinking about.

Isn't it odd, how Player didn't speak for such a long time in Kingdom Hearts χ? It took almost fifteen months for them to speak their first words during Ephemera's introduction.

But, while its easy to say its because Player is supposed to be a silent protagonist, that gets less and less true as the game went on.

Player has quite the speech during Quest 555, or Quest 979, for example. Player certainly has things to say, and certainly makes choices beyond what we, the audience, would choose for ourselves.

So then, why is Player so quiet, especially at first?

Well, Kingdom Hearts has an example of this before.

Xion.

I don't think Player had a heart, before Quest 362. More than that, I don't think they were a nobody, since the timeline on that makes no sense.

I think Player is a replica.

Puppet Without a Heart:

First off though, lets break down why I believe Player doesn't have a heart for a second.

The first time Player speaks, its to Ephemera. But what I haven't mentioned is that Player has interacted with keyblade wielders before that.

Right before that, in fact, by the standard of KHUX. In Quest 231, Player has a short interaction with another set of wielders, where they don't talk at all.

The quest goes about standard with Player hunting some new heartless along with some other wielders. They all promise to meet up, afterwards.

But, unfortunately, they don't make it back.

(They certainly have a bad history with 'promises.')

I think this, along with all of their other adventures (Olympus in particular we'll be getting back to), was the inciting incident for their heart coming into life.

As Ansem the Wise said, "The heart has always been quick to grow. Each exposure to light, to the natural world, to other people, shapes this most malleable part inside of us." This is true of nobodies, but its even faster in replicas.

So if Player's a replica, why are they a replica? Who made them?

Easy.

If you are going to tell me Master of Master's wouldn't make replicas, I don't know what to say.

And he clearly he has some capabilities. looking at Chirithy.

But then, wouldn't every wielder be a replica then? Well, I don't know about that. For one thing, we clearly have some families in the wielders, looking Laurium and Strelitzia.

No, I think Master of Masters made only the one replica.

Player... and in doing so, sowed the seeds for the Nightmare Chirithy.

I Said We'd Get Back to Olympus

So, Master of Masters, when it comes to gaslighting and manipulating his students, truly leaves nothing to chance. He leaves lots of other things to chance, but not that.

So when he told everyone there was a ~nightmare Chirithy~, surely he'd already set that into motion.

But, as far as we can tell, when wielders go dark, most of them don't get a Nightmare, they fall. And, disappear immediately after.

So there's only the one Nightmare Chirithy: ours.

And they have a connection to the Foretellers, that never really got expanded upon.

But then, how did Master of Masters guarentee that we'd gain a Nightmare?

Well, Player explored the worlds, was exposed to people, light... and darkness. Olympus, and its darkness, also happens before we meet Ephemera, and we develop our heart.

Darkness is as much a part of our heart as any modern character. And thus, we have Nightmares.

....that said, I think that's the extent of his manipulations on Player.

The Book of Prophecies, very clearly, doesn't write down everything, and I'm not sure Luxu ever really heard about Player in detail.

For Luxu, our story is that of a background NPC. Player's choices, and their refusal of fate, goes unwritten.

The way the story ends for Player is different than the Book, because Master of Master's never foresaw their bonds.

So everything changed.

Except that, well, Player is still a replica.

I have no idea what effect this will have on the future of the games, but the subtext and foreshadowing is so clear I'm not sure why I've never read this theory from others before!

Anyways, replica!player forever! Have a good day!

#and if you dont subscribe to this theory for *your* player; feel free!#we are here to have fun #khux #kh theory #khux player #mint rambles

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bestgameostcrownduel · 4 months

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Round 1, Side A: Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers (2019) vs Kingdom Hearts 3 (2019)

FFXIV | Kingdom Hearts

Campaigns under the cut!

Campaign for FFXIV:

oh my god where do I start. Final Fantasy XIV (FFXIV) is an MMORPG that's been going on 2013, or 2010 if you count the trainwreck that the current FFXIV replaced (the 2010 version's music was composed mainly by Uematsu, 2013 onwards is mostly Soken). Thus its OST is FUCKING HUGE and spans a whole lot of genres. If you like any kind of music at all you can probably find at least one track that speaks to you in this game. FFXIV has a category of incredibly difficult fights called Ultimate, comprised of multiple short phases that each have their own music. Because of the nature of how Ultimates are structured, they're the only fights in FFXIV where the music can actually be timed to the mechanics. If you're not afraid of story spoilers, look up any ultimate's BGM and you can see how cool this effect is. (I can't listen to Under the Weight without also hearing the sound of every mechanic and tankbuster.) (My personal favorite ultimate, music-wise, is The Epic of Alexander. Back when I was progging the fight I used to fall asleep listening to the BGM.) To The Edge is so so special to everyone who loves FFXIV. It's the theme of a boss in Shadowbringers; I can't give details without also giving major spoilers, but I will say that the story and this song deal with the themes of death and loss. If you look up the lyrics, which aren't too spoilery without context, you'll get what I mean. What makes this extra emotional is that FFXIV's main composer, Soken, was in the hospital fighting cancer when he composed this song. (To be clear: he kept working because it provided him with a desperately needed sense of normalcy, not because he needed to.) No one on the dev team knew aside from Yoshi P, FFXIV's producer + director as well as Soken's personal friend; the rest of the team found out the same time the fans did, months after the fact when Soken was in full remission, at the 2021 FFXIV Fan Festival (FanFest). To The Edge was already widely beloved prior to this because it's an incredible banger tied to an incredible story moment, but knowing what was going on behind the scenes during its composition, in addition to the story and song's own themes surrounding death, turns it into a piece that no one can listen to without getting wildly emotional about it. At the same FanFest, before Soken announced that he fought cancer and won, he performed this live: https://youtu.be/aBt4zT_PBmw?si=SgzTV9BvINfA0b-U Absolute king shit. With Hearts Aligned is also so so so special to me because it's the song that plays in the 'victory lap' second phase against the final boss that caps off a nine year long story arc. It features a leitmotif from The Maker's Ruin, a song from 2013, that represents the player and is often used when we overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. There are no words that can describe the sheer fucking emotion of fighting the final boss of a nine year long story arc while listening to the leitmotif that represents YOU, a leitmotif that you first heard however many weeks or months or years ago when you first started playing this game. The ultimate triumph, and the ultimate song of hope. Also if you like leitmotifs, FFXIV has /so many leitmotifs/. Have a spreadsheet of them: https://x.com/EENlX/status/1686043012353396736?s=20 Also also, Alex Moukala on youtube does more in-depth analysis of some of the best tracks in FFXIV! Great videos, I highly recommend checking them out.

I would put the entire game's soundtrack if I could but there's a LOT. The album I listed is for the "postgame" of Shadowbringers. Of particular note is the song "To The Edge" which was written while the composer, Masayoshi Soken, was battling with cancer.

Campaign for KH3:

yoko shimomura, the GODDESS, the LEGEND, her composing skills never fail to amaze! kh music is so so goodddddd

I’m not good with propagandizing but the OST for this series is so good. For KH3, I love so much of the soundtrack. The Disney worlds have some great tracks, but the endgame and dlc has almost nothing but bangers.

#polls #round 1 #side a #best game ost crown duel #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ff14 #ffxiv shadowbringers #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh3 #shadowbringers

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yxstxrdrxxm · 3 months

Text

SYNOPSIS: Perfection lies on the eye of the beholder. Or, in this case, in the hands of an alchemist who dabbled in sculpting.

TW/s: yandere behavior, Albedo is a bit of an impulsive bastard, abstract in writing, nsfw tws includes usage of drugs, odd materials, dollification, toxic relationship. Please dni if you are uncomfortable.

NOTE FROM HR: Happy Valentine’s Day! If you asked Albedo, he had nothing to gain to be able to celebrate an occasion such as this, but it seems you guys have been together for months. I wonder what he has in store to celebrate this day with you, hm?

Albedo is what many would say is never considered to celebrate Valentine’s Day. If you ever told him what that occasion is like, he would simply tell you the meaning and not what he truly thought about it. After all, that is normal for many to expect, right?

Well, that is what the old him would’ve thought, but he had a lover now. One that understood him, and the person that seemed to look at him like he was someone to be cared for.

To be fair, he and Kendall are what people would say that are polar opposites. He was stoic and hard to approach, but to the likes of Kendall, he simply showed sides of him that he wanted her to see past.

Why? It was simply because the two shared the same ideas and bonded well. Thus, for the alchemist, he thought it simply made sense to do that.

One of those was when they picked up a book that he had seen and he told Kendall if she was aware. Although she wasn’t, the time they spent together deciphering and discussing the contents of the book when they read it together was nice. He had never been interested in reading anything but scholar-approved journals, so picking up something light with her had been an interesting perspective.

There was one thing that he remembered so clearly—in the passage of the book, ‘Challenger Deep’, he remembered asking her how she felt with the narrative being shifted so often. He recalled how many were speaking of how difficult it was to follow them, like they couldn’t figure out what was happening.

Her words caught him by surprise, though.

“It’s not that bad when you think about it. After all, the story is focused on the boy, so if they can’t follow what’s going on, that’s their problem.”

It was then that he realized just how different they were. And Gods, he was absolutely not letting this opportunity go.

So, he began to speak to Kendall more. He began to look into what she thought of certain topics, books, and even past those with art forms as well. But in the midst of it, he found himself feeling more and more attached to her.

It was a strange conundrum. He didn’t understand the feeling at all. It felt… Foreign.

He didn’t like that.

What was stranger yet was that he saw her profile in the MixMatch app. He had been on it for months since he needed more funds for his projects, and it was the easiest way for him as he had been scouted by the bigwigs of Celestia Inc, so to see her in there and the profile she has set up was a curious coincidence.

Now, any sane person would’ve simply ignored her profile and scroll past to the next one, but Albedo is no foolish man. Nay, he wanted to see just how far he can go when he managed to match with Kendall and see how deeper their relationship could become.

With one swipe, they were both matched up by the app. Just like how history led them to be tied together since day one.

After that time, the memories became a tad bit fuzzy for Albedo to remember. It had gone through so many changes: from the time they were finally together, then the small celebrations they hosted, and even their first kiss. It was almost sweet with how Albedo tried to be accommodating and loving to Kendall, but there were times that it was difficult.

Love is difficult for him. But he has his ways to show that to you.

Such a shame that one of them led you to the situation he’s facing right in front of him.

Standing in front of the somewhat finished sculpture he made, he found himself… Strangely at ease. His expression remained unchanged, though, but the sight of it made him internally smile. It was something that he himself can live on proudly.

In a weird way, it made him feel a bit human. It was perfect for him.

Granted, the materials he made was not something he can get right away. It had to be curated, picked by hand, and he needed to make sure it fit his vision. One slight and it would’ve been thrown away, discarded like a child’s toy when they’ve grown old to even touch it anymore.

He was a picky man. He wanted what’s best for him and his lover, and he had dedicated himself for far too long to be able to back down now.

Raising a hand, he gently swiped it across the cheek of his muse, his eyes softening. The feeling of smoothness meeting his bare fingers sent tingles in his spine, tracing it ever so closer to their eyes and lips, and even drifting to their neck. There were a few blemishes, sure, but it was fine—it looked close enough that he was able to modify it to make it look authentic from the naked eye.

He spent 6 months working on the statue before him. His life’s work, he coined as such. He had always wanted to express his feelings to his lover if they’ve stayed for this long, and even then, he wanted to give it to her as his memento for the occasion.

Looking down, he hummed in satisfaction at the placement of the props he curated. He made sure that the statue had the finest of jewelry hung on their body, its hair and clothing pristine as he first found it, and he gave extra care to spots he saw that weren't perfect.

The dust that was left from his smashed previous attempts and frustrations are all but swept away, hidden from anyone that dares to enter his workshop.

Grabbing the cloth next to him, he lifted it up and tossed it on top of the statue’s head, gently letting it flutter down to the ground. He didn’t want anyone to see it, and he made sure that every spot of that statue he made was covered to a T.

“... It’s perfect,” he whispered, looking down at the time and the pendant. “Now, I need to give this to her tomorrow morning. I must get some rest.”

He has a busy day tomorrow, after all.

Heading up to Kendall’s apartment, Albedo caught sight of his lover. Although there were bandages wrapped around her head and other parts of her body, he gently tapped on the door; a small greeting for her to hear, not one that may be too disruptive for someone who’s in recovery.

As her head turned and the two saw each other, the sculptor smiled.

“Greetings. Still trying to decipher the book, are you, Kendall?”

The latter blinked, the cogs obviously turning before he saw her nod with a gentle smile. “Yes, I wanted to know why I’m drawn to this book,” she answered him, making him hum and walk closer to her. Pulling up a seat, he glanced at the cover and the contents to see what she was reading.

“Challenger Deep… I see. This book can be quite tricky to understand,” he comments, his hand reaching to the cover. “However, you can try and read it later. I have something to show you at my house, Kendall.”

Closing the book, the blonde looked at his partner, smiling ever so gently with how she lit up.

It was different. So different from the reaction she’d give him, and it sometimes made him feel like he was dreaming. Alas, he isn’t, and he knew that to be the case for him and Kendall. After all, he made sure it wouldn’t come to light.

“Let’s go. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

Grabbing her hand, he grabbed the book and placed it on the table, keeping it closed. Leading his lover out of the living room, he helped her get her shoes and make some bits of conversation between them. He didn’t wish to make the mood tense, but it seems that she’s beaten him to it.

Albedo is never this talkative to anyone. To him, speaking takes a lot of his energy, and he is never fond of the idea. Though, with the one he’s with, he never found the idea revolting nor exhausting; she reminded him of Sucrose, minus that she’s a lot more outspoken with her thoughts to the alchemist.

It was an amusing sight: a man who refused to speak more than he had to, paired with a woman who loved to speak to those she found close with.

Their journey down to his apartment was as quick as he remembered. He kept a tight grip of Kendall as they went out and about, telling her that she must stay close, lest someone would see her and bring either of them trouble.

He knew why it must be done. People may still be out to look for her, and he didn’t want to risk anything to happen to his beloved.

Still, the real surprise came when he managed to reach his home. Pulling out the keys, he pushed one in and turned it, unlocking the door and letting her enter right inside his abode. Though, he found himself looking back for a moment.

It was strange. He swore he felt eyes pierce through him, but…

…

It must be nothing, he thought. No one would ever dare to follow me.

Turning back around, he entered the house, the floorboards creaking under his feet as he closed the door shut. He could already hear noises from inside his house, but he paid it no heed as he simply walked through to find where she ended up.

The soft thudding of boot meeting the floor echoed, and even the soft creaks didn’t deter him as much as it had used to.

He was used to it. It was his only home, after all.

“Albedo?” he heard a voice faintly call out. “Albedo, what is this?”

Ah, she’s found it.

“I’m right here,” he answered, entering his studio and watching as she stood in front of the now uncovered statue. The light began to shine and give the features more clarity, laying bare to what the two can see without a moment to lose.

The statue before the two had parts of themselves that had been sculpted by hand and blade, the skin color being the same as the one Kendall had with a few stitches and blemishes that Albedo wasn’t bothering himself too much to clean up. The attire had been commissioned by someone he knew, as it accentuated the statue’s body from head to toe.

The eyes remained closed as the hair was cut to her hairstyle, but there were some obvious patches and discoloration that shows its original color, which was something different entirely.

The face is what caught her by surprise, however. She had expected it to look like it was the same as hers, or even a human being’s face, but it was just patched with makeup and rough cuts. It was far too eerie to even put it to words, but Kendall can only look at it and then turn her gaze to Albedo.

He made this, did he? So why did this happen? Why is it made to look like an abhorrent abomination?

“I assume you like it, do you?” he asked her, his face still holding that same smile as he went closer to her. “You must be. After all, I’ve wasted blood, sweat, and tears over making this for you.”

It seems that’s all the answers they need from him.

“Don’t you think it’s perfect, too?”

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2024

#💌 ;; message delivery #💌 ;; from: albedo #💌 ;; to: armin-ocean-eyes #💌 ;; promising letter: one last call #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere gi #genshin impact #genshin #gi #yandere albedo #yandere #yandere writing #yandere text #male yandere #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin albedo

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watercolorfreckles · 1 year

Text

The Girl Called Sparrow

This is a tad different from my usual style--I did my best to make this snippet sound like a fable! I spent like 3.5 hours just writing it so the editing I did was pretty light. Pardon any mistakes or sloppiness! :)

When she was born, her mother gave her no name.

There is power in a name, her mother had always said. The fae collected names like plucked flowers. They wielded them like weapons; the humans under their sway, like branded cattle.

Thus, throughout her life, she had been called many things. Little One. Child. Rascal. She preferred it when her mother called her things like Free Spirit, or Smile, or My Heart.

The words were always warm on her mother's lips. She did not mind not having a name when her mother called on her so kindly. To be given a great many names, though really not one at all, made her feel as though she could be anything and still be her.

Others were not always so kind. Village children gave her names that would scar. Adults who did not understand her would christen her Odd. Strange. Some called her Girl--as if that was all she was.

After her mother passed, she knew she was no one to anyone. Without a name, her soul felt untethered. Peeled from her back and kept at an arm's length like the shadow at her heels.

Who could she be if not Daughter? She did not want to be No One. She did not want to be Alone.

She had felt the fae's eyes on her her whole life. She knew they could sense what she was lacking. Every breeze that swirled the leaves around her, every tinkering of bells or heady scent of wine, reminded her that they were always close by.

Perhaps they were drawn to her, the girl whose name they could not steal. She liked to hope that maybe they followed her because she made them feel something less than monstrous with a possessive need to control.

Though her mother had taught her to fear the fae, the daughter revered them. She began to leave them fresh berries and jars of honey between the sprawling roots of the great oak tree. It was the oldest thing around, so she felt it was an appropriate place to dedicate to an immortal being. She told them softly of her day and tied ribbons on the tree's branches.

The leaves danced, rustling with a gentle melody that filled her insides like warm tea. It wasn’t long until she was overwhelmed with an unmistakable instinct: A fae was there, listening. Watching.

She lowered herself to her knees, bowing against the moss. "Hello," she said, banishing any quiver from her voice. The fae hated weakness. "I am terribly lonely. Perhaps we may share in one another's company." Her fingers curled against the spongy earth. "I know it is unwise to make dealings with the fae. But perhaps, we may come to an...arrangement. I know that your kind follow me. Fae are curious creatures. I will continue to bring you gifts if you indulge me by staying here with me for a time."

She waited.

The tree began to creak and groan.

Hesitantly, the girl lifted her gaze.

A section of the tree parted from the rest, wood splitting and shifting like the rattling of unsettled floorboards. The faerie's glamor melted away. He stepped out from the deep scar of the trunk as if it were a portal to another world.

The sight of him stole her breath. His russet brown skin, deep as the tree he emerged from, reminded her of how that very tree looked beneath a bleeding sun. Fissures and cracks sculpted the skin beneath his chest--bark, she realized--in an intricate pattern.

Her gaze traveled upward, to the wavy foliage of his hair. Leaves wove between the strands and down the slim line of his arms. His lips were dark as tilled soil, eyes bottle-green.

When he spoke, it was the rush of a summer breeze. "You come to me and speak of your pain. I am bound to this tree, I cannot leave its shadow. Yet you are free as the sparrows that nest in my branches. You are bound to none, not even a name."

The human closed her eyes. "What use is freedom with no home to come back to? No one to share it with? Please. I have spent my life as a million pieces, but never one whole. Give me a true name and you may use it however you wish."

She could feel the fae's attention on her face. It seemed to fill the very cracks of her skin.

A tear slipped free.

The girl's eyes jolted open at the rough brush of bark beneath her chin. The fae was close. She hadn't even heard him move.

Fingers calloused with the skin of an oak tree, he brushed the tear away. "You do not know what you are offering me. It is of my nature to take advantage of you. To secure a deal with you and squish you beneath it." His voice was gentle. Like a rock skipping across a pond. "Go from this place. Only ask me when you are certain this is what you wish. To be bound to a fae with no freedom is to clip your own wings."

She did as the fae had asked, though she continued to return every day, offering him gifts and reading books aloud with her back against the oak tree's trunk. He did not show himself, though she knew he was listening in the way that the forest held its breath when the story became tense, or the way the leaves shifted to shield her face when the sun scorched too harshly.

Summer bled into autumn. Gold and red flooded the great oak's leaves a little more each day. She wondered whether the fae's hair changed to match it.

She met a man in the village. He called her Mine.

She liked the way the title sounded on the swell of his lips. It was a name none had given her yet. A new thrill to greet the changing season.

Never before had she caught the eye of a bachelor. Giving pieces of herself to him felt only natural.

When his grip on her turned bruising, it filled her with regret. The day he finally hit her, his names for her turned ugly.

She ran to the oak tree and wept. The wood creaked. Though she could not see him, the fae's hand warmed her back.

The more days she spent there, the more she realized she much preferred the world beneath the oak tree to the one beyond it, with cruel men and a community heavy with judgment.

It was an unseasonably cool day when the human fell asleep beneath the oak tree, only waking to the kiss of leaves against her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open, a smile spreading her face. A bed of moss and leaves draped over her like a blanket.

Sitting up, she yawned, gazing up at the tree. Tall, Tall, Tall. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of the fae collecting materials within his tree's shadows, gently spreading them over her sleeping form.

"Kind Oak? May I see you again? I am ready to make our deal."

With the groan of shifting wood once more, the faerie soon appeared. His hair, now, was a deep scarlet, just as she had suspected.

"Are you certain?" His voice was the crackle of dry leaves, a gentle sound that settled in her bones.

The human didn't shy away from reaching out to touch him, this time. "I should rather belong to you than any other. Please. Give me my name. I will be devoted to you for the rest of my days. I just want my own name."

The Oak Faerie's hands brushed the tawny-brown hair back from her face. He studied her face with rapt interest before meeting her gaze. "Your name is Sparrow. For your free nature. For your willingness to perch among my branches and to depart when it pleases you. I will not clip your wings, Fair One. You shall belong to me only for as long as you wish to."

Sparrow.

The name rolled over her, coating every inch. It was as though she were hearing the word for the very first time. Something shifted within her, like a final puzzle piece clicking into place.

She had a name. A true name. It belonged to her and she to it.

Sparrow didn't realize she was crying until the fae cupped her cheeks once more. His brows furrowed at the sudden display of human emotion. Something that often perplexed creatures such as he.

"Sparrow? What is wrong?"

She surged forward and her lips were on his. The fae tasted like autumn air and the earth and a dizzying sweetness that swooped her stomach.

The fae paused, still as a tree, before his hands slid down to her waist and his mouth moved--gently, never greedily--against hers.

The moon was high in the sky when the faerie finally returned to his tree. Sparrow's eyes drooped with tiredness and she returned to her mother's cottage for the night.

When she returned the next day, the sight froze her step. The great oak tree–her fae's home and cag–had been chopped down.

Sparrow dropped to her knees like a stone. Her sobs and screams filled the air. Her despair was a living thing.

Footsteps crunched behind her, drawing her attention.

Her former courtier stood with a posse of other men, axes in their hands. "It is not the place of humans to fall in love with faeries."

"You-" Sparrow croaked, "You followed me?"

The look on his face was sure with quiet fury. "I assumed you left me for another. I had not anticipated... this development. No matter now. It is for the best. You will learn, now, that your place is with me. You are Mine."

"No!" She screamed, standing. "I am Me! I am... I am Sparrow."

Dissolving into sobs, Sparrow sunk to her knees again.

"Come home when you're finished. I'll be waiting."

She listened to the men's footsteps retreat.

When she had no tears left, she rose unsteadily to her feet again. She took a step. Something rolled beneath her foot.

Glancing down, she spotted an acorn—an acorn from Oak's great tree.

Sparrow smiled, and laughed.

She would run away. Plant the seed. She would have her fae again. Sparrow would have her love. And her love would have her.

Part 2

Thank you @thepenultimateword and @valiantlytransparentwhispers for proofreading and giving feedback <3 Lemme know if the tags work, they're being kiinda sus

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl, @valiantlytransparentwhispers , @distance-does-not-matter, @redbircl, @lilaccatholic, @crazytwentythrees, @thelazywitchphotographer, @chibicelloking, @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5, @putridghost , @tobeornottobeateacher, @sunflower1000, @bouncyartist, @feyriddle , @yet-another-heathen , @silverwhisperer1, @distractedlydistracted, @pensivespacepirate , @appleejuicee, @deflated-bouncingball @maybe-a-cat42

, @m0chik0furan, @mercurymomentum, @fairysprinkles, @vuvulia, @amongtheonedaisy, @rose-pinkie, @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room, @scorpio-smiles, @inkygemuwu, @wolfeyedwitch, @thewhumpmeisterx3000, @ikiiryo, @moonquires, @lem-hhn, @fanastywhump, @smallangryfish, @ladybookworm @freefallingup13, @acaiaforrest, @a-blue-comedy , @puppyaddict, @talkingsperm , @qualitychaoslover, @deckofaces ,@7eselt, @annablogsposts, @lunatic-moss-studio, @medusas-hairband.

#my writing #fable #tumblr fables #fae #fae x human #faerie #fae folk #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writers on tumblr #hero x villain community #tw abuse mention #hero x villain #sry #its totally not hero x villain but #ill get more reads if i use that tag lollll #Oak and Sparrow #watercolorfreckles #not a prompt

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shini--chan · 7 months

Note

Could I request flight and reaction from the headcannon lists for America, China, and Japan? I absolutely adore the way your characterization of them. Even though I don’t follow hetalia actively anymore I always find myself coming back to your work because I love their dynamics so much

Thank you for your kind words. One small thing though - the templates are to be requested as a whole and not mixed. Should have stated that more clearly in the info post and will update it after this.

This one is about America, I'll be posting the China and Japan ones seperately.

Yandere Character Sheet II

1p America - Alfred F. Jones

Blend in - Are the red flags obvious? Are they even aware that their behaviour is wrong? Do they even care?

When it comes down to it, Alfred fully buys into the trope of American exceptionalism fully. So much so, that he is bristling with self confidence and charm to the point where you'll probably overlook or even justify his more … unorthodox behaviour until it is too late. That is, if you don't hate him or a die hard realist. Or hold fast to some ideology that depicts him in a bad light.

As per usual, the warning signs will all be very noticeable in hindsight. Though, if you are astute enough, you'll consciously catch on to some of them early on. Else, you'll occasionally be plagued by a feeling of something just not being right. Some of the red flags are:

He limits who you are allowed to talk to. At times, America can have a very black-and-white world view. Of course, he is the good guy and everything is just and moral. Even when he dirties his hands, it is all for the greater good. Thus, the bad guys are all those that don't fall in the neat lines of his high end morality. You are not allowed to talk to them, or even hear them speak, or else they will corrupt you. The only case he'll make an exception is if you are itching to join him on his crusade to either redeem them or defeat them.

Along the same vein - he is very resistant to criticism. At times, he internalises the saying "America is the best country on Earth" a bit too much. On mundane things he can very well take your feedback with grace. He is even open to pondering on concepts that are alien to him, if he is in a good mood. Though, if you try to change his opinion on something like his moral code or the lifestyle he is currently pursuing, then you'll find yourself running against a brick wall. It takes very long for him to admit to being the bad guy in something, or even just to being wrong. And even then, he'll try to sugarcoat it as much as possible.

Again in the same category - he can be controlling of the media you consume. Think about those hard right wing evangelists that think watching certain movies makes you gay. He might allow you to watch a series or read a book that he considers despicable, but only if you have a certain opinion on it.

He always wants to know where you are or what you are doing. He'll frame it so that he comes off as the concerned boyfriend, or explain it as having had bad experiences with people in the past. Both will be true, but what is also true is that he is possessive and controlling.

America is a sore loser, a very sore loser. He is neigh incapable of tolerating somebody being better than him. Hell, he even has difficulties in tolerating somebody being equally good as him in something he deems important. You are no exception here, no matter how much he “loves” you.

Perhaps in the odd moment of deeper introspection Alfred will admit that what he is doing is wrong. However, he'll be quick to brush it off as "the ends justify the means". Though, if pushed far he'll break down and sink into deep shame, then trying desperately to right all his wrongs. That is, if he doesn't bury himself in copious self-righteousness and toxic self-interest beforehand.

Compatriot - Who aids them? Who condemns them? Are there ways you can convince their friends/colleges/underlings to help you?

Alfred has three types of people who aid him. First are the sycophants, those the hang onto his every word and laud and applaud whatever he does. Maybe their livelihood depends on him, or they are desperate to get in his good books. Eitherway, they'll treat his every whim as an order, morals be damned. Their opinion on his treatment of you doesn't matter at all in that case, what matters is that they'll act in his interests.

Second, are those that are genuinely on his side, that share his view of god and the world. These are the people that might chide him for his treatment of you at times. That being said, if you act like you are a happy couple, you'll also be treated as such and they'll turn a blind eye to all the red flags.

Thirdy, there are the people that comply with him due to fear. Those that look at him and see the boy king that dropped two atomic bombs on Japan and showed no remorse afterwards. These are the people he has a gun pointed at, be it literally or figuratively. They will comply with Alfred if he calls on them, but they won't be enthusiastic about it. They might even try to discreetly help you.

As to those that condemn him - they are many in number, though only few will be overt about it. Alfred has a tendency to steamroll over other people to get what he wants. His tendency to selfishness has won him many enemies and thus there are quite a few people that are willing to help you. Now, a lot of the time their feelings and opinion of you won't matter, they just want a chance to pay America back for all the injustices it has inflicted on them, perhaps even with interest. In that way, you won't have much convincing to do.

Though when it comes to those that submit to him - either bribery or tricking them will work. Or you can convince them to help you if the blame for your escape can be shifted onto somebody else, or if the situation can be framed to make it look like you managed to flee entirely on your own. Concerning those that are loyal to him - in some select cases you can succeed in getting away by appealing to their own self interest or, again, by tricking them. However, there are also those amongst his circle of confidents that don't see him as a demigod and still side with him. When it comes to that sort, you can convince them that Alfred is sick in the head and that the only way to cure him is to remove you from his side, and then they'll orchestrate events to make that happen.

America's politicians and other high class people may also decide to step in if they think that Alfred is becoming too distracted because of his "relationship" with you or if he causes an aggrievious international incident. Watch out, though! Poor communication kills. If you don't convey your intentions or matters go haywire, they might decide that the best way to deal with the problem would be a bullet to the brain.

Dominion - What actions are especially pleasing to them?

On a large part, Alfred wants to have the American dream for himself, even if his version of it isn't quite as humble. He wants to come home to you showering him with affection and doting on him and catering to his needs. But above all, Alfred wants you to elevate any boredom that he might feel.

In any case, he would rather be frustrated or angry with you than bored. That being said, you'll want to avoid him falling into either state.

Travel with him abroad, introduce him to new cultures if you can. Engage him in debates, do sports with him. Though, if you don't want to play a (sports) game with him, he does expect you to be on the sidelines and cheer him on as he plays. He is always up for new movies or series, or he'll allow you to drag him to a library or a comic store. Alfred also believes in being a self made person, so if you have ambitions or interests (as long as it's something he is ok with) he'll gladly help you on your personal journey. Be careful, though - he might end up shaping you more than you shape yourself.

Aside from a very active leisure time, he wants you to be a loyal and caring spouse. Cook his meals and give him massages, ask about his day and don't start fights (he'll always be the one to end them, and at times, it will be anything but pretty). If you behave well, he'll let you out, maybe even take you to a party or even another country with him.

Flight - What do you have to do in order to escape them?

This is actually a tricky question to answer. You see, Alfred is big on security but also a short term thinker. Either way, what you must do to slip out of his grasp is also largely dependent on your relationship with him before escaping.

If has to drag you into his house kicking and screaming, then it will make things a lot more difficult. He’ll be expecting you to make a break for it, and will devise certain ways to break your will. You might think that your personality might be important to him, but that is only partially true; he is far more enamoured with the idea of who you can be for him than who you are. Alfred has a picture in mind of who you can be, the best version of you, in his not so humble opinion and if he has to play cat-and-mouse games to help you reach that goal, then so be it.

Most of the time, he’ll keep you under lock and key - you would have to be very clever and skillful or have help to escape then. Though there will be instances where he’ll play release and catch with you - he’ll allow you to escape under controlled conditions only to capture you and haul you back home. This would be to drive the point home that you can’t evade him forever.

The more you are inclined towards him, the more freedoms he’ll allow you; that is, if there is no danger of you stealing the spotlight from him. That being said, he’ll still keep a close eye on you - your phone will be checked on regular intervals and he’ll use it to track you. All your financial transactions (insofar as they are digital or per card) will be monitored and he'll do background checks on everybody you interact with on a regular or semi-regular basis.

In general, it has to be said that he isn’t omnipotent or infallible, even if he tries to showcase himself at times. There will be moments where he slips up, mistakes that he overlooks. In total, he is a short-term thinker and emotionally charged. If you can get him to trip over his own lines (and it is easier than you might think) then you can go galavanting away.

Hospitality - What is your life like with them? How much does it deviate from your former life?

This is a fort where Alfred loves to show off - anything you want, just say it, and he’ll already be pulling out his wallet. He won’t hesitate to have you settled in a pent house or a mansion and have you wine and dine. For him, this is also a way to tie you to his side - isn’t personal security more comfortable and important than freedom, eh? If you want for nothing because he gives everything you are allowed to want to you, then why should you try to flee.

Aside from that, he won’t keep you in one place for a long time. Alfred wants to be the only real constant in your life and one way through which he shall achieve this would be to uproot you every now and then. It would also have the dual purpose of making it very difficult for you to plan an escape. In the same vein, he prefers his life to be eventful, and that will be reflected in his relationship with you. In the minor cases, it is small projects and that goes up to the major cases, that are historic events. Longer times of peace or monotony make him antsy and more prone to doing something impulsive. If you aren’t involved in all the drama and action, then you’ll be regaled with hour long stories of it.

In that way, you have less peace and quiet than in your former life and also less privacy, because he tends to use you as a cure for boredom and restlessness. At times you’ll ask yourself if he sees you more as a doll than a person with agency.

Since he also has many enemies, you might find yourself in the crosshairs because of him. In comparison to Alfred, you are probably the weak link (or he at least does his best to frame it that way to other people) so you’ll be targeted in order to hurt him. That way, you might find yourself kidnapped, threatened and tortured. And all of this would be followed by Alfred going on a rampage in order to rescue you. A lot of blood will be spilled and all because of you.

Afterwards, he’ll just want to lie in your arms, maybe have sex, just imitating what all those movie characters do after a successful mission. Generally, he wishes for you to worship the ground that he walks upon - while he can live with your ire and hatred, it won’t be a smooth, nice ride for either of you if that is the case. If it is the case, then you have to be moulded into shape.

It would be re-educated, but he would never use that word for what he is doing to you; it is such an ugly word, a communist word, a communist principle as how could he ever do such a thing. Instead, it would be redeeming you, bring you on the right path. In truth, he has just watched too many Hollywood movies and doesn’t know when to take a no. It would be a matter of chipping away at your resistance, carving away the hard exterior shell you erected to keep him out, to reach the soft core.

Order - What are the rules you have to adhere to?

He doesn’t like to call them rules, since it just makes it seem like he is oppressive. Understandings? Manner? Either of them would be better words in his mind. At the root of everything, this mindset stems from the belief that you know what is proper and good. There are a few lines in the sand that he’ll point out, but for the most part he’ll assume you know what the laws of the land are.

If you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t say it at all. The exception to this rule is if you are verbally tearing down some miscreant. Else, you are to sugar, spice and everything nice towards him. Sassiness is welcomed though, but no in excessive amounts. He is the sort of person to casually say that he likes somebody with an attitude though that only goes as far as that you provide him with a challenge - he kind of likes the idea of "taming" a partner.

Don't talk smack about me to other people. This rule is partially because he cares a lot about how others perceive him and because he doesn't want somebody intervening. Besides, your actions reflect onto him and he doesn't want you to shine a bad light on him just because you can't get your act together when other people are around. He considers the low points of your relationship as something that should remain between the two of you.

I provide you with food and a roof over your head, so you listen to him. In some ways, he is downright paternalistic - this is only one of them. In any case, he earns more than you, pays when you eat out and the deal for house ownership has his signature on it. He is for equality insofar as it doesn't upset his position of power. So, it is his house and his rules and you are to treat him as your Lord and Saviour along with granting him all the privileges that come with such a position.

Don't try to get third parties involved in our stuff. Reflecting on one of the above rules here. That being said, what would really get his blood boiling would be if you involve some uppity politician in affairs that are between you and him. He is wary of his own politicians and the sentiment to foreign lawmakers is even worse, so if you get one of them on board then the blood sports will commence.

There are many more rules, spoken as well as unspoken, but we'll just leave it at that for now.

Rehabilitation - How much will they change you? Will they break you? How much therapy would you need in the event that you get rid of them?

He'll change you to fit the romanticised version of you that he has in his mind's eye and he wouldn’t shy away from more unsavoury means if he thinks they are necessary. In that sense, you might have to undergo severe therapy and deconstruct the mould he pressed you in and reconstruct your personality.

Or it could be that you bury your actual persona so deep in your subconscious, that you have moments of derealisation and have to slowly be coaxed out of the cocoon you wrapped yourself in. If you put up a pretty hefty fight, then he might even brainwash you in the truest sense of the word (putting you in a moment of existential distress and then forming you to his liking) and if that is the case, some deprogramming such as is necessary for ex-cult member might on the table.

Aside from that, you’ll need to learn how to be independent again, learn how to provide for yourself and put your own food on the table, how to think for yourself and not in the tight frame he imposed on you. Time far away in another country with differing cultural and moral framework might be helpful then.

And even after that, you'll be paranoid, it through constantly fearing being tracked via your phone or having somebody physically watching your every move. It will take a lot to calm you down and you would be in danger of resorting to drugs to ease your fear and emotional pain.

Zeal - Do they fall fast or slow? What is their reaction to their own feelings?

Alfred is inclined to take this relatively fast once he is sure of his feelings for you; it is the stage before that. At times, he can be really emotionally constipated, though not to the degree his father can be. It is just that he has so much on his plate and while he has a warm and pleasant exterior though it actually takes a bit before a real emotional connection is established. Even then, he would be careful to place his full trust in you. If anything, being trusted by him would only come after years of proving yourself and even then, he would still hold something over your head to "motivate" you to not double cross him.

As for how he reacts to his own feelings - he is as rash and impulsive as you probably assume he'll be. Being in love is a pleasure for him and he is prone to taking things too fast. Chances are that he'll be suffocating in his affections at first, if he can get away with it. Once he realises that his feelings run even deeper than mere infatuation, he might stop for a moment and conduct some introspection. Said introspection will seldom be self-critical, however, and is more to assess what might work with you and how far he wishes to go with you, rather than anything concerning ethics.

Art is not mine

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