#i did this instead of working on my wip which means my friend is gonna smack me
Note
There’s a very fucked up part of my brain that wants to hear your theories about the alleged NYC polycule 😭 but it’s also…too much lmaooooo
Beloved, sweet, wonderful anon, you tempt me too much with your repressed desires to join me in the tiny closet off my office, where I keep my bulletin boards and my red string.
I should note, before we begin, that my contributions to these theories are but contributions, the true architect is a friend, who I will not publicly out, but they know who they are.
With that out of the way, let me paint you a picture, dear sweet anon.
It was late summer, I had watched six hours of TV over the course of three days, because my friend had talked about this TV show to me, and the characters therein, for weeks. I did not expect to like this TV show, I wanted to watch it solely so that I could participate fully in conversation, because I enjoy very much when someone I care about loves something and shares that with me. Despite my intentions to the contrary, I emerged from the six hours of TV wholly changed.
And so began my not-so-slow downward spiral.
(under the cut)
My friend and I had deep and complicated discussions about characterization and the narrative choices and depictions of mental illness and trauma. We shared vulnerabilities, as ways to expand our understanding of the depths that this show plumbs, but does not always reach with solidity. We thirsted. Oh, did we thirst.
I came to the conclusion that I did, indeed, want to climb Oscar Isaac like the compact, solidly built tree that he is. I wanted to bury my fingers in his hair, I wanted to see him smile. I wanted to see the characters he plays beaten, bloody, and miserable. I wanted to see them broken, but I also wanted them to heal, such as they were able, given their unique circumstances.
In short, I became obsessed.
My life has spun wildly out of control, I am sitting on roughly 50k of Moon Knight fanfic, currently unfinished, but being worked on feverishly. You are not here for that though, so let us move on.
We initially began our conversations regarding the NYC polycule on a fair evening in September, when my friend arrived in my dms to alert me to an item of interest. It was a photo, from September 9th, posted on Elvira's Instagram account, and in it, was Oscar, one of his children, and a man, tagged as Tim Nolan.
Further research revealed, of course, that Tim Nolan is none other than the long-time hair stylist for Oscar. We reviewed Tim's Instagram page, thrilled by the discovery that Tim seems to accompany Oscar on many filming trips, including during the filming for Moon Knight in Jordan.
Knowing this, and also knowing that the only other person who appears in photos in their house with their children with such familiarity is Pedro Pascal, we began to make certain assumptions about this relationship.
I won't spend too much time on Pedro Pascal, I think we all know that he's involved.
For now, let us continue along with Tim.
Oscar has been filming In The Hand of Dante in Venice, of late, and so we have been thrilled to see BTS pictures of him, on set, and etc. We have also been thrilled, most recently, by Tim's presence. Tim recently celebrated his 41st birthday in Rome, and the following weekend, was with Oscar being touristy.
Some things to note:
Elvira's comment under Tim's birthday photo, which was taken in Rome. This is not unusual in and of itself, she is very free with her affection for the people in her life, and her comment is correct, he is looking extremely good.
Tim touring around Rome with Oscar, on the weekend after his birthday, clearly not at work, just there to have fun.
The next photo is the one that sealed the deal for me. You have probably seen this one, because I reblogged it onto my blog, but here it is again, for posterity.
We know, from various interviews, and behind the scenes footage, and the way that Oscar is in them, that he is affectionate with his male friends, we know that he is happy to be close to them physically, but there's ... something about this picture. There's a familiarity, a casual intimacy, a closeness that speaks to other kinds of closeness.
All this to say that I believe that Tim Nolan is and has been in the polycule, just like Pedro Pascal is and has been. Perhaps not at the same time, perhaps there are others who move in and out, but the anchor is that Oscar and Elvira have a marriage with room for others, and I wouldn't be surprised, at all, if someday, someone made a mistake, and posted something we shouldn't be seeing, on a public account.
Alternatively, I am going to move to NYC with the intention of becoming another member of this small, loving group of people.
I'm sure my partner will understand.
#jess answers#anonymouse#not tagging this with anything in particular 'cause i don't think i wanna deal with people coming to pest me about my fun speculations#i truly cannot get over that most recent picture tho#it actually made us both yell that night#i went into a wholly unrelated discord server to scream about it because i had too many feelings to contain#i did this instead of working on my wip which means my friend is gonna smack me#because i surely owe them words today#anyway this is all in good fun of course
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Gorgeous
kai parker x reader (both 18+!) (shy!virgin!kai)
summary: troubled by his own body, kai's afraid to go all the way with you. that is, until you confess you love him regardless of the way he looks, giving him just the confidence he's needed all along.
tags: friends to lovers, kissing, minor fingering, shy!kai, mentions of child abuse / physical abuse [I can't just write a normal fic, can I?], implied s3lf h4rm, emotional hurt / comfort, confessions, making out, blow jobs, virgin!kai, top / bottom switching, reader is a little freaky, nipple sucking, pet names, aftercare, cuddling
word count: 5.5k
a/n: sooooo... this has been sitting in my wips for over a year. for some reason, i just never posted it. but unfortunately, i have work tomorrow, so i'll be dead as a doornail that evening, and the work i wanted to post isn't done yet, so i'll post this in the meantime. that being said, i think i'm finally starting to get back in the swing of things. i'm still working on requests as well as other stuff, but i'm coming back slowly!
also, if this idea is totally unusual, that's probably why it sat in my drafts for a year. it's a year old fluffy smut with a strange premise. bare with me. 😅
The minute you get back from work, you collapse onto the nearest chair and groan.
“You okay there?”
Looking up, you see Jo and her boyfriend on the couch watching a movie. Oops.
“Sorry. Yeah. Long day. Where is everyone?”
“Our dads went to the flooding company people to try and get that situation covered, and our moms took the kids to the park.”
“My brother too?”
“Your brother, but not mine.”
“Cool,” you give the girl a thumbs up. “Hey Cody.”
Jo’s boyfriend looks over at you, “hey, Y/N.”
“Alright, I’m gonna go shower.”
“Okay!”
You make your way up the stairs slowly, wondering where Kai is. Poking your head in his room, you see he’s not in there, but you don’t hear him anywhere else. Oh well. You’ll find him after your shower, because you really, really need that shower.
In your room - also the Parker’s guest room - you grab a new set of clothes and your hairbrush, before going into the guest bathroom in the hallway. See, you and the Parkers are neighbors and have become close family friends. Though one night after a really bad storm, your basement flooded, as did several other houses nearby. This is a problem Mr. Parker could easily fix with magic, but considering the electric and flooding companies know your house was one of the ones affected, he can’t do anything without revealing his coven. Instead, your family temporarily moved in with his until the county could fix the issue.
It’s been two weeks, no progress. But you’re not complaining; you get to spend more time with Kai - your best friend who you’ve recently started dating in secret.
As you’re busy undressing and getting the water ready, you don’t hear Kai come in from outside. The boy stands in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular.
“Is everyone still out?” He hesitantly asks Jo.
“Yeah. But Y/N came home.”
“Oh. Where is she?”
“Mhm, went upstairs.” Then she snaps her fingers, “oh wait! She said she’s taking a shower. So don’t bother her. Just go to your room and wait for her to come out. Don’t be weird.”
Kai scrunches his nose. As if he’d ever make you uncomfortable on purpose. “Okay, thanks.”
Quietly, he makes his way upstairs. When he hears the water running, he bites his lip. Don’t be weird, Jo had just said. But she doesn’t know how close you two actually are. Swallowing hard, he slowly turns the knob to the bathroom door, trying not to alert Jo to which door he’s opening. Inside, the hot water steams up the mirrors, making it hard to see, but he can vaguely point out your figure through the glass.
“Y/N?”
You hear him and pop your head out of the door, “Kai! Hi. Come in,” you gesture for him to enter all the way.
He does, then shuts the door just as quietly. “I don’t mean to bug you, I just wanted to make sure you were here. Jo said you were, but…” he shrugs.
“You’re not bugging. Come on, join me.”
“What?”
“In here.”
“But… I’m wearing jeans.”
“Well then take them off, you goof.”
“I-I… um.”
Deciding to give him privacy, you stick your head back in the shower and rinse out the shampoo. The whole time you’re finishing your shower routine, you assume Kai’s going to join you at any time. You haven’t gone that far in your relationship yet, but he is a teenage boy, and he does love kissing you every chance he gets.
You two have done more than kissing, of course, but just haven’t gone all the way. And there’s plenty of reasons for that: too many people in this damn house, someone might walk in, someone might overhear, etc. etc. etc. But aside from the obvious reasons, you can’t help but feel like there’s also reasons that Kai isn’t sharing.
He likes to spend a lot of your time together practically worshipping your body. His lips and fingers have touched nearly every part of you, but he isn’t too keen on letting you do the same.
Kai holds you in place with a hand on your neck. His lips are attached right below, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand’s busy farther down - two fingers pumping in and out of you quickly. You bite your lip hard to not moan as you cum on his hands. He continues to finger fuck you through your orgasm, not letting up until your body stills. Then, he tastes one finger before putting the second in your mouth. You suck on it, eyes trained on him the whole time.
“My turn. Let me make you feel good, Kai.”
“You are. I like watching you like this.”
“No, I know. But I want to taste you, too. Let me blow you.”
Kai bites his lip as if he’s having an internal debate. “Isn’t this so much better, though?” Before you can say anything else, he kisses you, feeling his hands up and down the sides of your body as he does. “Now let me cuddle you, m’kay? Let me take care of you.”
You’re too overwhelmed in pleasure to fight, and succumb to his open arms. Minutes later, you’re both asleep.
You don’t pry if he tells you ‘no’ the first time, but of course, you can’t help but wonder why he’s never let you even see his body.
“Take your shirt off, why am I the only one exposed?” You joke, pulling at the hem.
“Hmph, no, baby, I’m too focused on you,” he says.
Every time. He won’t even take his bracelets off, let alone any of his clothes. Again, you don’t push him - he’ll take that step when he’s ready - but you really want to pleasure him the same way he does you. And besides, he just has to be hot under there; his face is insanely attractive, arms are strong, and figure is lean. You’re dying to know.
“Y/N?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts.
“Mhm?”
“I, um, actually nevermind.”
“You okay, angel?”
“Yeah, just…”
Done with your shower, you turn off the water and grab your towel. You would just go out nude despite him there, but you know the air will be cold, so you wrap the blue cloth around your body. “Well now I’m done.” Carefully, you open the door and step off the slippery floor.
In front of you, Kai is standing awkwardly. His jeans are still on, but his shirt is off and folded neatly on the bathroom counter. You gulp the minute you see his body for the first time. As you expected, he’s lean and rather well-toned for someone not allowed out of his house much. His arms have some muscle to them, and you can see several prominent veins close to the surface of his skin. What catches your eye most, however, is the sharp v-line shaping his hips, leading to somewhere still hidden from your sight. “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.
Kai swallows hard. His eyes are red. You don’t notice the signs of discomfort, though, until a small sigh escapes his lips.
You narrow your eyes when you hear him. “What's wrong, pumpkin?” Hurrying towards him, you cup the sides of his face. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I hate it.”
“Hate what?”
“Hate my body.”
“What do you mean? You’re gorgeous, Kai.”
“All the ew, all the stupid… everything.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t see anything ‘ew’.”
“Look closer.”
“Are you sure? If you’re uncomfortable, I won’t.”
“Just do it.”
Nervous, you step back to look at him closer. “Oh,” you mutter, suddenly saddened. Discolored skin in shades of green, yellow, and purple. Bruises, new and old. Handprints, whip marks, slaps from an open palm, all fading from red. Then there are the cuts, up and down his arms, some on his stomach, some on his shoulders. Clearly self-inflicted, though the bruises were all clearly marks of abuse.
“Now you see how ugly I really am.”
“No, no, Kai…” Gently, you run a finger across a row of evidential abuse. He flinches a little and you can’t help the tear that falls from your eyes. “You’re still gorgeous, baby.”
“Hm,” he mutters, shaking his head ‘no’.
“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I promise. You are still beautiful to me. And I still want you, I still want every inch of your body. You don’t have to hide from me. Hey, I have some, too.”
You peel the towel away a bit to expose several cuts along your upper arm.
He sniffs, “those weren’t there the other day.”
“I know, baby. But yesterday was really hard with my dad, and this was the only way I could think of to cope.”
Kai remembers yesterday. Your dad had forced you to go out with him to visit different universities in the area. By the time you both got back, he was fuming and you were holding back tears.
“He got pissed at me when I said I didn’t want to go to college. He asked me why I was the family failure, and why I couldn’t be more like him.”
“I’m sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s okay. I’m okay, now that I’m back beside you.”
“He’s a dick. Your brother’s a dick.”
“My point is, Kai, that we have a lot of the same scars. You don’t think I’m any less beautiful because of them, so why should you think that about yourself?”
“Because I also have bruises from my fucking dad.”
“That’s not your fault, baby. Your dad is an even bigger dick than mine. And just because you have wounds on your body from his hand doesn’t mean I don’t love you or your body any less.”
Kai freezes, “you love me?”
You then freeze, too. “I, um…” Then you realize that that confession may be exactly what he needs to hear. “Yes. I do love you, Kai.”
Tears that were welling in his eyes are now falling, “why?”
“Why? Why not? Because on top of being absolutely gorgeous, you’re an amazing friend and boyfriend. You’re sweet and gentle and trying your best despite the awful circumstances you’ve been given. You’re always there through the good and bad, and I could never get tired of being with you.”
“Can I admit that I love you, too?”
You smile and nod happily before leaning in quickly to kiss him. Amidst your excitement, your towel falls from your body, and your breasts rub up against his bare chest. Kai lets out a moan at the contact, but then separates from the kiss to cover his mouth with his hand. You just raise your eyebrows at him.
“Feel good?”
Instead of answering, his hands find your breasts and feel them. His eyes roll back in his head. “So soft,” he mutters.
“Kai?”
“Hm?”
“Does this mean I can see you now?”
“Um, I, n- uh-” he stutters over every word.
“You know what? It’s okay. Later?”
“Okay.”
“Sounds good. And I hate to say it, but we have to stop,” you pause to pull on your panties and jeans, “because Jo will start getting suspicious soon,” you have to ignore Kai’s pouting face as you put on your bra, “and she doesn’t need to see us like this, because she’ll tell your dad.” Your shirt is on next, “and then my dad. And then you’ll get hurt.” He watches you pull your hair out from under your shirt and flip it to curl around your face, “and you’re not getting hurt on my watch. Okay?”
Kai nods, “I love you.”
“I love you, too, pumpkin.” You two share another kiss before leaving the bathroom. Kai grabs his shirt on the way out, fumbling to put it on, along with his multiple bracelets. “Downstairs? I need some water.”
“Sure.”
The minute you reach the last step, Jo calls out to you, “did Kai find you?”
“Yeah, he’s here.”
“Okay. He came in a little bit after you went up. I told him you were in the shower, but not to bother you. He listened to me, right?”
“He didn’t bother me at all. Was very gentlemanly and waited in his room for me to come out.” You wink at Kai as you lie straight to Jo’s turned face. Luckily, she’s fixated on the movie.
“Okay, good.”
“I’m just going to get a drink and then we’ll be out of your hair shortly.”
◇◇◇◇
“Y/N, are you sure you don’t want to come with us? It’s a huge festival, it’s a lot of fun,” Mr. Parker asks one more time as he’s halfway out the door.
You take another glance at the amount of people crowding the doorway: your brother and parents, plus Kai’s parents and all his siblings. Minus him, of course. “I’m sure. I’m not too big on crowds, and I’m kinda tired. Might just see if Kai wants to watch a movie.”
“Okay, but be careful.” Then, Mr. Parker leans closer to whisper in your ear. The gray hairs of his beard lightly touch your skin, making you shiver in fear. “And don’t get too close to him.”
“Noted.”
“We should be back around three-ish, more or less,” your Dad adds.
“Okay.”
“Don’t leave the house, and certainly don’t let him sneak out,” Mr. Parker piggy-backs off your dad’s comment. Jeez, it’s like they’re long-lost irritating brothers.
“I won’t. He’ll stay here with me.”
“But not too close, becau-”
“I heard it the first time, Dad. I trust Kai enough that we’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Go have fun, okay?” You had to downplay your friendship to make them think you only trusted him a little. If they knew the truth - that you’d trust him with your life - they’d definitely stage an intervention and never let you see each other again.
“Okay, just making sure. See you later, Y/N.”
“Bye.”
Finally, they leave. It takes ten minutes for nine kids to assemble between two cars, between the Parkers’ van and your parents’ SUV, but they eventually make it work. You can literally hear two kids crying over “having to sit in the back again”, but then you hear your Dad’s voice, “ride with me, if it’s okay with your Dad.” The crying ceases at last, and the cars pull out of the gate.
“Are they gone yet?” Kai comes downstairs about a minute after they left.
“Just pulled out. What were you doing?”
He swallows, “um.” While struggling to answer, you give him a look. “I’m used to hiding during the van-packing process.”
“Okay,” you answer, not entirely convinced.
He bites his lip, “okay, that part is true. I do hide when they do that because sometimes someone storms back in to grab something to appease the ones stuck in the back, like a snack or whatever. But, um, what I was actually doing was… trying to,” he pauses, and you let him find the words, “build up the courage to, um… can I just kiss you?”
You’re confused, but you’ll never deny him a kiss. Smile forming on your lips, you close the three foot gap between you two, hands tracing his jawline, capturing his face, while kissing him softly. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips. There’s something different about this kiss than your usual ones. Something more hungry… willing, maybe. Whatever it is, you let him take charge.
As soon as the shift in control changes, he spins the both of you around so that you’re pressed into the counter, rather than himself, while he kisses you deeper. His lips leave your mouth to trail down your jaw, to your neck, but then he suddenly stops to look up at you.
“Everything okay?”
“Can we go upstairs?”
“Of course.” You joke, “afraid someone’s gonna walk in?”
He misses your teasing tone and replies bluntly, “no, I wanna fuck you.”
You nearly trip up the first stair, causing you to grab a tight hold of his hand. “What’d you say?”
“Is that okay?”
“I-uh-um- yes, just caught me off guard. What brought it on?”
“You said you loved me. And that you liked my body even with all the scars. And that if I can love yours with scars, you can love mine.”
“I did say that. I meant every word.”
“And so now we’re here alone, and I’m going to act on something I’ve wanted to do a long time ago.”
You reach the top of the stairs. He has an arm around your back to prevent you from falling, just in case, as he stares into your eyes for hesitancy. You give none. “Then do it.”
Instantly, your back collides with the hallway wall and he kisses you with the same tenacity he did downstairs. Out of habit, your hands find his hair; his, your waist, but he’s a lot more confident now. Slowly, he inches the both of you towards his door. His hand fumbles with the knob, making him frustrated.
“Wish I could just open the stupid thing with magic.”
“If I had magic, I’d let you take it whenever,” you answer, again, with no hesitancy.
He stops to stare at you. “You would?”
“Mhm. I mean it, Kai, I love you.”
“But the siphoning hurts.”
You shrug, “can’t hurt that bad. I imagine it’d probably actually feel good. At least for me, maybe not other people. Send little tingles all the way down to my-”
He cuts you off with an open mouthed kiss. “Now I really wish you had magic.”
“-and then a part of me would kinda be in your blood, too, right?” You finish the second part of what you wanted to say.
“Holy fuck, you’re turning me on.”
“Open the door, Kai,” you urge.
He finally does, but in the second you take to catch a breath, he’s back on you. He takes advantage of your state and slips his tongue in your mouth, no regard for anything but his and your pleasures. You go weak in his arms and let him explore, enjoying the feeling much more than you probably should. Then, he taps on your hips signaling for you to jump. You do, wrapping your legs around his waist. He carries you to the bed, finally, and throws you down rather roughly.
Immediately, panic takes over his face. “Shit, that was way harder than I meant to! You okay?”
You, on the other hand, can’t get a word out because you’re giggling too hard.
“Y/N, are you okay?” He tries again.
“You’re so hot when you’re all dominant. Well, you’re always hot, but-” and then you continue to giggle.
Kai relaxes, realizing he didn’t hurt you. “Oh you little-” he climbs on top of you until he’s hovering over your face. Legs tangle together, bodies close but not close enough… You buck your hips. There, now they’re close enough. “You’ve been wanting this,” he observes, fighting back a moan at the contact.
“Yes, but also, your comfort is my number one priority. It’s much better now, with you enjoying it too, than if we were to try when you weren’t ready.”
“Thank you, princess,” he kisses your nose sweetly.
“Thank you for trusting me. One thing though.”
“Mhm?”
“Do you trust me right now?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” Without further warning, you grab his wrists and flip him over so that his back is pressed into the bed. It’s the first time you’ve ever been on top of him, and the power makes you giddy.
“I thought you liked me being dominant?”
“Oh, I do. But I also want to see you writhe under me,” you wink at him.
Kai gives you a look, and you know he’s going to start fighting any minute now. It’s in his eyes, and you can feel his muscles under you tensing to build up the strength. In the last second before you think he’s going to try and take charge, your hand goes down to the outline forming in his jeans. All fight is immediately gone as soon as you start to feel him. He can’t even fight the moan he’s been holding back since you started making out downstairs. The sound spurs you on and you rub him harder.
“More, princess. Please.”
You move your legs to straddle him, hands going to his belt. “This okay?”
“Mhm.”
“Words, please.”
“What am I, five?”
You cock your head at him. “Words, or no further touching.”
“Princess,” he tries to buck his hips like you did, but you’re holding him down.
“Come on, Malachai.”
“Don’t use that name.”
“Mala-”
“Fine! Yes, please. It’s okay. Please.” You smirk, not expecting the begging, but loving it. “You little sadist.”
That only makes you love it more. Not wasting another second, your hands are undoing his belt. As much as you want to take it slowly, you’re both too excited to drag it out any longer. Besides, just by looking at him, you can see how hard he is, and you know you’re almost soaking your panties with wetness.
“Wait,” he pants.
You stop immediately. “You okay?”
“I need… I need. C’mere,” he beckons you forward, and you listen. “Need this off,” he pulls off your shirt. “And this,” next is your bra. The minute it’s off, he loses control and grabs your tits like he did in the bathroom a couple days earlier. Before you know it, he’s fondling one while the other’s in his mouth.
“If mine is, this is coming off, too.” You make a grab for his shirt. He pauses, tongue still around your nipple. “Is that okay?”
“Yes,” he seems to decide in that instant.
In order for you to pull the fabric over his head, he has to disconnect his mouth from your breast. But when it’s off, he swallows hard and doesn’t reach for them again.
“Kai… c’mon, pumpkin.” You take his hand to put it back on your body, trying to return that sense of comfort, but he doesn’t grasp your breast again. Sighing, you take it as a moment to get a closer look at his body. The bruises, the scars, everything. A tear escapes your eye, and you lean down to press a kiss to one of the purplish wounds. Then, you start to do that with all of them. From his neck to his hips, you kiss every mark made on his body, whether by his dad’s hand or his own. On the fresher ones, your lips are more gentle, barely there, not wanting to cause him more pain. But on the older ones, you leave multiple kisses, or even lick them with your tongue before kissing. “I meant it, Kai. You’re gorgeous. These marks don’t stop me from loving you.”
Slowly, he makes eye contact with you again. His hands reach out to your face, and when he gets a hold of you, he pulls you in for another deep kiss on his lips. “What did I do to deserve you?” He asks with a tear emerging.
“You don’t have to deserve love, baby.” You kiss his collarbone.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Your lips travel to his chest. Giving him a taste of his own medicine, you swirl your tongue around one of his nipples. He moans loudly, arching his back.
“Holy shit, I didn’t know that would feel that good.”
“Can I continue to make you feel things like that?”
“Yes, please. I need it, I need you. Wait, but let me-” he suddenly sticks two fingers into your wet heat, hovering over his own body, and pops them in his mouth. “You taste so good.”
“Are you gonna let me taste you now?”
“Sure. Yes. I meant yes.”
Your eyes warm and you continue to kiss him further down - this time, trailing his v-line. You had noticed the prominent indents the other day, but are now getting to see it up close. He moans again, enticing you more.
“Princess.”
“I’m working on it.” Finally, you shrug his jeans down and off his body. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to hide his now-bare legs, but you opt to not pay attention to them anyway. Your gaze goes straight to the bulge in his boxers that looks even thicker without his jeans in the way. Mouth watering, you touch him first, enjoying the feeling.
“Y/N, please. It’s uncomfortable. Too tight.”
Succumbing to his wishes, you tap his hips for him to lift them, then peel back the final confinement. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach in the process. You’re quick to lean forward and lick a stripe from the base to the tip. Kai sinks his head into the pillow, groaning huskily. After pulling his boxers all the way off, you refocus your attention back to the length in front of you.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” you mutter. The praise makes him twitch, and you immediately reach out to grasp him between two of your fingers. “Need to taste.” And then you finally do. You start at the tip, rolling your tongue over the slit counter clockwise, stimulating precum in the process. Some of it leaks into your mouth, straight down your throat, but most of it drips down the side of cock. It doesn’t get far, though, before you move your head to catch it, licking your way from the base to the tip, again.
A shiver runs through his body. “Feels so good.” Barely audible, but you hear him.
Positioning your head over him, you prepare to take him fully. To you, it’s a five second break of deep breaths, but to Kai, overwhelmed in pleasure, there’s almost no warning. As soon as you’re ready, you sink your mouth down on him until you get about halfway and your gag reflex kicks in. Cock hitting the back of your throat, you gag around him.
“Y/N, you okay?” He sits up on his elbows, worried he’d accidentally hurt you.
Slowly, you lift your head back up, “I’m good, baby. Just training my throat to take you.”
He swallows so hard that you see his Adam’s apple bob. “Oh, um…” He doesn’t lay back down, opting to watch you instead.
You don’t mind as you go down for a second time, getting further now. You do it several times, taking more and more of him each time. Your tongue swirls around his length and traces his veins. In fact, there’s one vein in particular that especially makes Kai moan every time you hit it. It’s on the underside of his cock, and you start to pay special attention to it. The rest of his length sits against your face as you focus on it.
Kai doesn’t know if the sight or the feeling is affecting him more. Either way, he feels himself getting close to release. Your mouth is around him, head bobbing up and down rapidly, when he twitches. He whines, resisting the urge to hold your head where he wants. Suddenly, though, you stop and remove your mouth completely.
“Fuck, wait, I’m about to…”
“I know, pumpkin. Can’t let you do that yet.”
He’s about to ask why, but then sees his answer. In one quick motion, you’re removing your own pants and lining your bodies together. “Ready?”
“Mhm. Yes.”
You smile, grab his cock to hold it upright, then sink your heat down onto him. Kai collapses, elbows no longer supporting him, as pleasure consumes him.
“You okay?”
“Yes, oh- oh god.”
“Can I move? I’ll start slow.”
“Please.”
As promised, you slowly begin to ride his length. Your hands rest on either side of his body and lips are pressed to his chest, leaving hot kisses all over his skin.
“Let me know if you want to try and take over.”
“Okay.”
When Kai starts to relax, you pick up the pace. Not too fast, but little by little. Soon, his hands find your hips and he helps guide you. His fingers have a tight grip on you, but it only makes you wetter.
“I think, I wanna… wanna try…”
“Want to be on top, angel?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay. You can just flip us or I can move, what are you feeling?” But the hungry look in his eyes already gives you your answer.
As soon as you nod and grab onto his shoulders, he flips the both of you so that you’re now pressed into the bed. With his usual role re-established, so does his dominance. You open your legs wider to give him more access, and he immediately takes advantage of it. With a lick of his lips, he pushes his cock into you, not stopping until he’s run out of length.
“Oh my god,” you mutter.
“Is it too much?”
“No, you’re perfect. Move when you’re ready, mmkay?”
He nods, then copies the way you rode him when he begins to move: arms on your side, head ducked into your chest. His lips attach to your nipples, sucking, and pulling them between his teeth. When he gets a hold of his balance, you feel pressure on your clit, too.
“Fuck, Kai. You’re so good.”
His body jolts, “say it again.”
“What?”
“Name. Say it again.”
“Kai,” you pant as he quickens pace.
“No one else is home baby, say it louder.”
You had forgotten this fact, actually, but the minute he reminds you, you let yourself go. “Fuck,” you moan, rather loudly, “feels so good, Kai! Fuck. Harder.”
He spreads your legs wider and thrusts harder upon request. Obscene sounds fill the room, mixed with your moans and whimpers.
“Kai,” you pant, “need to hear you, too.”
“I’d rather hear you, Princess.”
“Aw, come on, gorgeous. Nothing turns me on more than men moaning,” you admit. “Need to hear you.”
Previously held-back grunts and groans tumble from his mouth at your confession. When his lips return to your nipple, he makes sure to keep up with your request, sending vibrations throughout your body.
“I’m close, Kai. So close, so close… don’t stop what you’re doing.”
“I’m getting there, too,” he twitches again. “Come for me, Princess.”
As soon as he asks, your orgasm rips through your body. Loud moans follow, and your eyes roll back in your head. Kai rides you through yours, before pulling out and immediately releasing all over your face and chest. Some drips off your shoulders, down to the bedsheets.
The minute he catches his breath, a worried expression takes over his face, “I’m sorry! I knew I shouldn’t do it inside you, but wasn’t sure where else to. I aimed for your chest and misfired.”
You make direct eye contact with him, then swipe a bunch off your cheek with your finger before sucking it off. “Oh, I’ll never complain about a facial.” You dart your tongue out to the side to gather more. “And don’t worry, I kinda like the taste. How the hell were you a virgin, Kai?! You were amazing the whole way through!”
He blushes, “um, thank you.”
You can’t help but giggle. Only Kai would be sweet enough to thank you for complimenting his sexual ability. Your ex-boyfriend, to whom you had lost your virginity, threw you an, “I know,” when you told him he was good. This little fact just made you love Kai even more.
Then, as if he couldn’t get more perfect, his next words are, “can I clean you up now, Princess? And then we can cuddle and nap?”
“Of course. Give me a kiss first.”
Kai leans forward and kisses you sweetly. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, wetting it gently.
“Blood,” he comments.
“Hm?”
“There’s blood on your lip.”
You run your own tongue along it, “must’ve bit it in pleasure.”
“I’ll be right back, okay?” He pulls on a loose pair of sweatpants from his drawer, giving you a wink.
“Okay, darling.”
Two minutes later, Kai returns with a warm rag and a water bottle. First, he cleans the small sore and any remaining blood off your lip, then hands you the bottle. “Drink,” he insists. As you do, he moves the rag over your face and down your neck and chest, cleaning off his drying cum. He rubs your lower body next, easing some of the soreness as well as wiping away your cum. “Anywhere else?”
“No, I’m okay. Do you need anything?”
“Just you,” he sappily replies.
“Okay, come here then.” Arms wide open, you gather him up and pull him close. You take a hand away for a split-second to pull the blankets over you two, earning a whine before he realizes what you’re doing. As soon as your arm is back around him, he snuggles into your body. “I love you, Kai,” you whisper with your lips against his cheek.
“I love you, too, Princess. Thank you for making me feel like I’m worth something to someone.”
As much as his words sadden you, they also make you feel warm inside. You’re the one that makes him feel that way, and that’s pretty fucking special.
“Always, my sweetheart.” You give him a kiss to the cheek, keeping your lips there even afterwards. His heartbeat slows into a comfortable rhythm and breathing evens out, and soon, he’s fast asleep in your arms.
#malachai parker x reader#kai parker x reader#kai parker fluff#kai parker smut#tw: child abuse#tw: s3lf h4rm mentions#tvd fanfiction#virgin kai parker#shy virgin kai - my favorite flavor 😂😅
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toji x reader drabble
pairing: toji x plus size fem!reader
tags: smut lead up; no smut yet but that’s where it’s going; mention of alcohol
a/n: y’all i know i said i don’t write jjk (and really, i don’t), but this wip spilled out of me. will it ever get finished? who knows. but maybe i’ll pass it off to someone else to finish the smut if i find the right person. ok now time to go binge jjk and bnha over the holiday weekend for ‘character research.’
He stood across the room, drink in hand, eyeing you with a grin you couldn’t quite place. It took restraint to keep your eyes from rolling as you looked away, expressionless. Here we go again….
“Okay, how are you ignoring what has to be the world’s beefiest, most beautiful man alive staring you down like that?” your friend asked.
Because he’s staring at me to get to you, Mina.
You’d never tell her that to her face, even though you (and the men who tried it) knew it was true. It was almost sickening, how gorgeous she was for twenty seven, and most men didn’t have the guts to talk to her directly. You were their buffer - the “fat friend.” The safe bet they thought they could hook to get to her, leaving you high and dry at the end of the night.
“Because I’m not interested in guys like him. You know that,” you replied.
Which frankly, was a boldfaced lie. A lie you kept telling yourself to keep any interest at bay. You were into guys like that, but they were never interested in you. And you understood why; you weren’t the one with a smooth stomach or toned thighs. Mina put in work to get and keep the body she had, and guys liked that. You didn’t resent her for it, nor could you blame the men who wanted it. She was sweet, stunning, and cute as a button.
“I mean if you say so…” she said with a grin. “I’m gonna use the ladies room. Watch my drink?”
“Of course, you know I will,” you replied.
Still, she was right. He was massive - broad shouldered, shirt tight across his muscular form. The rocks glass he held looked tiny between his fingers. He was easily the biggest in the room, even bigger than the bouncers.
And he was about to waste your time.
The man with smooth black hair and a smirk that made him look like he’d already won sauntered up to your spot against the bar. You’d had just enough alcohol to decide you weren’t putting up with bullshit tonight, and cut him off as he was about to speak. You’d probably never see this guy again anyways, so why be polite?
“If you’re here to ask about the pretty blond, yes, she’s single, and she thinks you’re hot. Just talk to her, I’m sure she’d be interested,” you said.
One brow raised slightly. “And you?”
You gave him a flat look as you took another sip of your drink. Secretly hoping he wasn’t just another one of those guys - the ones you really hated. “Chubby chasers,” and worse, guys who only sought you out for an easy bang because you’re the “fat girl.” Of course your self confidence must be absolute shit, so that must mean you’d be an easy lay he could toss out before the sun came up, right? He’d give you a few crumbs, blow his load, and be on his way. You’d boost his confidence for being so enthusiastic because no one in their right mind would give you the time of day, but he did, and you loved it. (Or, at least he’d tell himself that.) So he was the big shot. You should be thanking him. He was being generous, after all, sleeping with a girl like you….
Those were the biggest assholes of all.
“Fuck off. You’re not worth my time,” you replied.
That got his attention, a hint of disbelief on his face. Like you’d challenged him instead of rejected him.
“Really?” he said. “‘N why’s that, pretty girl?”
You couldn’t help the flush rushing to your cheeks. You held a straight face while looking down his body and back up to green eyes - as though that was your reason - and looked away without giving an answer.
There was a disapproving click click click of his teeth. A twinge in your stomach.
“‘S always the brats that act tough, isn’t it? I bet you’d be fun,” he said.
Heat flooded your face and neck.
“I’m not here for your fucking entertainment,” you bristled, giving him a hard look.
He laughed quietly. “Sure, sweetheart. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
You held your tongue as you glared, knowing any words of defiance would fall flat under the weight of his stare. He leaned in, pushing your hair behind your ear. You glanced and caught Mina’s wide eyes from across the room.
“By the way, you’re blushing,” he said quietly.
#this is probably terribly ooc i’m sorry jjk fandom pls forgive me#not my normal content#not sure if this will get finished but here you go#adoptable#maybe#but please ask first and tag me#throwing this into the void hoping for the best#i’m new here pls be gentle aaadbdhejdjdks#jjk#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#fushiguro toji#fushiguro x reader#fem!reader#x reader#plus size!reader#toji fushiguro#toji x you#millennialmagicalgirl#fic prompt#I guess
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Do you have the most favorite scene from your wips?
Hi Diana!
Yesss I have so many scenes I love, but this has to be up there with my favourites. It's from near the end of my s7 fic (tentative title: A Minor Delay), which will be starting to post soooon!! I just love it when they talk to each other lmao
"What happened?"
Buck looks over at Eddie, and he swallows. Who else could he tell? Who else would understand the thing he hasn't talked about yet, the deep, squirmy discomfort he's been grappling with all this time?
He can't lead with that, though. Instead, he opts for the straw that broke the camel's back.
"She liked my parents."
Eddie winces, and it brings a trace of a smile to Buck's face. Eddie has never needed Buck to prove that his parents were a problem. Even before Buck himself had known the whole story, Eddie had been on his side.
Still, that isn't everything. That isn’t the heart of why he’d broken up with Natalia. The conversations they’d never had, the reason Buck had avoided those conversations for so long.
"I just—" he casts his mind back to another conversation, so many months ago in a different kitchen. "I died, Eddie. I died, and everything felt different but nothing actually changed.” He takes a shaky breath, staring into his cup. “And then I met Natalia, and she was…”
Buck searches for the words, and finally looks up at Eddie. “It felt like a sign. With her job, and how we met, it felt like there was finally a reason why it happened. Like maybe she was the reason. I wanted it to be true, so I sort of... Went with the flow. Tried to convince myself it felt right, even though it never really did."
If Buck’s honest with himself, he’s known all along that Natalia's reactions to the time he spent with Eddie weren't the real reason he'd let himself drift away. Taylor had disliked Eddie too, and Buck had still spent a significant amount of their relationship over at the Diaz house.
If he was truly honest with himself...
"I'm sorry, Eddie."
"You're sorry?" Eddie sets down his coffee, only halfway to his mouth. He frowns, confused.
"I am. I... I've been a pretty shit friend lately. For months, really. Ever since…” he waves his hand, indicating all of it. “I guess I sort of knew all along that if I talked to you about this stuff, you'd call me on my bullshit. You’d point out how little sense it made, and I just really wanted it to be right. I wanted it to work out so bad, Eddie. I wanted… I needed it all to mean something.”
This time, Buck can’t fight the tears that come to his eyes. “You’re the one who sees me, Eddie. You’ve always been able to see me, the real me, behind all my bullshit."
gonna count this as my fuck it friday, so I was tagged by @disasterbuckdiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @daffi-990 @steadfastsaturnsrings @devirnis
And some no-pressure tags:
@wikiangela @wildlife4life @exhuastedpigeon @theotherbuckley @aspecbuddie @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @callmenewbie @kwills91 @trenchcoatsandtimetravel @spotsandsocks @sunflowerdiaiz @lover-of-mine @liabegins @kiti-the-warrior-poet @lovelettertothewise @slowlyfoggydestiny @buddieboos
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Hi !
I saw your Aether doll, and I was just wondering what's your process for the hair and the clothes? A friend's birthday is coming up (very) soon, and they really like Aether, so I'd love to know how to make this kind of stuff.
I think you're really talented! :)
Hi! Thank you for your kind words :)
My process is largely on a ‘trial and error’ basis, but I’ve done my best to make a guide for you (using Aether as an example, since you mentioned him specifically). Unfortunately right now all of my stuff is in storage due to unstable living conditions, so I hope you’ll forgive me for only being able to offer pre-existing photos and hand-drawn diagrams. When I get access to my stuff again, I might do a step-by-step process for hair (for Lumine, since she’s my current WIP) but that could be quite a while yet.
Stuck under a read more because this is gonna get long lol
I’ll start with clothes because I always leave hair til last.
The first thing I do is hoard as many references as I possibly can, from as many different angles as possible. These are the one I used for Aether (made myself because I couldn’t find any online that met my needs), though I did also sometimes log into my game and rotate him in the character menu haha
From here, the next step is to start dissecting the layers. Work from the base up, and break it down specifically into what you would make as a single piece, rather than say the shirt base AND the sleeves AND the decal. If that makes sense.
I don’t normally draw diagrams or anything like I will be for this, but if that helps you visualise it by all means do!
(I also tend to go really ham on the details because I’m a perfectionist, but please don’t torture yourself unless you really want to. Making things a little more simplistic is perfectly fine and valid.)
I won’t do the whole thing or I’ll reach image limit but here’s an example of how you might break it down:
The more you simplify it, the easier time you’re going to have.
The next step for me, after I raid my cupboard and the local craft store for the right colours, is to work out which pieces of the clothing I’m going to incorporate into the doll’s base body and which will be separate.
For Aether, for example, the ‘hand’ part of his gloves are the actual doll’s hands, but the bit that flares up his arm isn’t. The boots are part of his actual legs up until the part where it flares up over the top of his pants, which I made as a separate piece. The seat of his pants are the bottom half of his base body, but the pant legs themselves are add-ons. Does that make sense?
Next, make your base body! If you’d like to use my pattern, you can find it in my pinned post :)
Once you’ve got the base doll, I start adding layers of clothing. I always use a smaller hook size for the clothes than I do for the base body. In my case I like 2.5mm (and a teeny tiny 1.25mm for fine details and thin layers – but we’ll get to that later). I normally start with the pants.
My normal method of doing pants is this:
Essentially, I crochet directly into the base body in a circle around the base of the leg (so I am not chaining, but actually single crocheting through random stitches on the base in a loose circle shape), and then work in rounds until I reach the length I want.
Because Aether’s pants are puffy at the bottom and have two colours (*shakes fist at hoyo designers*), though, the process ends up being a little different.
I made his pants in two pieces: the outer side and the inner side. So instead of rounds, it ends up being rows. To get that nice puff, just do some standard increases in the right spot and make sure to decrease on the lower rows to taper it back in.
Once you have both pieces, you can just sew the two halves together.
The flare of the boot over the top of the pants is exactly the same process. Attach and single crochet directly onto the leg from the top of the boot, working up towards the waist.
For trickier shapes like the gloves, it’s sort of just familiarising yourself with what kinds of effects different stitches do and allowing yourself to get it wrong about a dozen times before it actually works lol
If you break down the gloves properly, you end up with a shape similar to this:
(this is not great i am so sorry – I am realising once again my reference was awful for the gloves)
But you can kind of see how it’s largely bulb shapes for the brown part, which is easy to do with increases and decreases. The white part I made separately and attached afterwards. Yes it was a huge, tedious pain in the ass.
For finer details, like his jewellery and, like, the shoulder armour, etc etc, I use the smallest hook I can tolerate. Please do not attempt this unless you lowkey hate yourself because it is torture.
So when you look at yarn, you can see that it has a bunch of smaller strands wound together, right?
You gotta split em.
Like this.
(image borrowed from http://illuminatecrochet.blogspot.com/2015/03/what-is-ply.html)
And then. You are going to use that tiny ass hook. And crochet those individual strands. It sucks. It breaks constantly. It makes you want to commit a crime. But damn if it doesn’t look good.
On a similar note, don’t be afraid to use the 2.5mm/whatever hook you use for clothes with less than the full ply of the skein you’re using. For Aether’s cape, I did the outer facing white part with only 2 of the strands in my 8ply yarn, and the inside orangey part with the 1.25mm and one strand. It’s still a little fatter than I’d like but it’s better than doing the whole thing in single strand torture mode lol
I’ll wrap up clothing here but if you want some help with anything specific just let me know!
On to hair!
For hair, I use felt square sheets that are like $1 each. Except for Aether because he has to have a Very Special Hair Colour that my craft store doesn’t stock so his cost me $7 :/
It’s a similar kind of deal for hair as it is for clothes. Break down the shapes and start from the bottom up.
(This is not a good look for him rip)
Layers are your friend! As are sewing pins! For real, do not glue anything down until you’ve got the whole thing pinned down because once you glue you’re in for a bad time if you need to fix something.
I’ve made two Aethers (one as a custom gift commission, one for myself) and they’re both a little different from each other, but this should help give you an idea of how I translated it to felt. I like to simplify if I can, purely because larger pieces tend to look a bit neater and less chaotic than a bunch of smaller ones.
For his braid, I found the easiest way to do it was to just cut three really long straight pieces, braid em, and then trim the end to the length I needed.
My absolute biggest #1 tip for hair:
If it looks bad but you haven’t finished, do not stop and restart.
It will always looks stupid as hell in the early stages. Don’t make a judgement call on whether or not it looks right until you’ve at least got the whole front part/fringe area fully pinned in place. Trust me.
I think that’s probably about all I have the energy for right at this second, but again if you have any questions or want help on anything specific, my inbox/DMs are always open – and that goes for anyone reading this! I’m always happy to help :)
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20 Question Fic Writer Game
Thank you for @needle-noggins for tagging me! Using my limited energy right now to respond, because otherwise I never will, oops.
How many works do you have on AO3? 65. One of them is a collection of prompts with 14 different chapters so, technically, 78 fics total.
What is your AO3 word count? 169,932. Nice. (Almost half of them are written in last 7 months for Trigun.)
What fandoms do you write for? Currently, only Trigun, but there are chances I might drop a fic or two in JJK fandom for Chosoyuki and then disappear. I would also like to finish some WIPs for Braime from GOT, but I don't know if my brain will let me. Never say never, though.
What are your top five fics by kudos?
What can I give that is all for you? These arms are all I have (But I hold you like I do love you) (396, Trigun, Mashwood)
Everything about you is on the tip of my tongue (312, Trigun, Mashwood, my first finished proper multichapter and explicit monsterfucking)
You hold me for a little (Curtains closed to the end of the world) (260, Trigun, Mashwood)
If I'm gonna (lose) love someone, (don't) let it be you (258, GOT, Braime)
this fucking fic that took me a week instead of day or two to write, ENJOY FUCKERS (or don't, I'm not a cop) (234, Trigun, Mashwood, Explicit monsterfucking)
Really fascinating to see how much kudos my Trigun fics used to get when I now often only get 30-50 at best. But, alas. Such is the ups and downs of fandom and I hope it's not reflection of my writing quality vaning as well.
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, I do. When I first started using to AO3, a writer I admired had the stance that it inflates the comment number and is 'cheating' when it comes to the statistics, but I realized that, at least for me, comments aren't any parameters I search fics by and also I really wanted to feel community and connect with my readers and writers, so I wholly threw myself in responding later on.
What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh, that's a good question. Several WIPs come to mind, but as for actual published ones...
I suppose Before you leave, Remember I was with you (You must know you are beloved) could count because it follows canon ending of the Rogue One which means all of the characters die. But it is more of a bittersweet one. In similar vein, If this is communication, I disconnect (I need you, you want me, but I don't know how to connect)
I think You taught me the courage of stars before you left (How light carries on endlessly even after death) overall might win, because it ends on open wound of grief, though it is also canonical death.
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I don't think there is a singular one that is more happy than others. There are so many shades and nuances of happiness, who am I to judge which one is the most valid, the biggest?
Do you get hate on fics? I once joked in author notes that maybe the fic did contain traces of early polyam if you squint and someone was very upset about it, though in text it was just close mutual friendship and some teasing and only the tagged main couple was openly romantically involved. I've gotten some weird comments overall through the years, but thankfully nothing more hateful than that.
Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Much to my own horror, yes, I do now. And apparently mostly the monsterfucking kind. I don't know what else might be meant by 'kind'.
Do you write crossovers? No, that's not something that really comes to my mind. I am too engrossed in exploring every nook and cranny of the canon and characters that are my focus at the time.
Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not fic, as far as I know, but I have had my poetry and RP stories and plots stolen by people I trusted, such as my teacher and close friends at the time.
Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but I've had one podficced!
Have you ever cowritten a fic before? No, but I'd really like to give it a try, I and @bienchanter have a lovely Rancher/Western Mashwood AU we'd like to cowrite, we just can't quite figure how to go about it.
I've also had the pleasure of having them write a companion piece to my fic (theirs and mine) and had the joy of writing companion pieces to @needle-noggins and @frappeflamingo stories.
What's your all-time favourite ship? I am a person who cannot pick just one. I'd say some of the most Rainy defining ones have been Han x Leia, Braime and Mashwood.
What's a WIP you'd like to finish but doubt you ever will? So, so many Braime ones. Especially the ones that are multichapter for fic exchanges. Their recipients deserve better.
What are your writing strengths? Emotions, evocative descriptions.
What are your writing weaknesses? Everything else. Okay, okay, before I get bonked from every direction - I struggle with dialogues and action descriptions and easily get overwhelmed when tackling larger, tightly packed plot.
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I think it is perfectly valid and even good for characters that would actually mix the languages naturally. I've definitely thrown in some Brazilian words for my Wolfwood, for this reason.
First fandom you wrote for? The Labyrinth on ff.net in 2008 or about there.
Favourite fic you've ever written? I don't have a singular favorite, there is something that I love, something unique that makes me appreciate it in almost all of my bigger stories, even if it's just a joke that was made in conversations with my friends.
Whew, this was long, but fun. Tagging @bienchanter @it-may-be-dull-but-im-determined @firesign23 @sdwolfpup @chickiefoo and @tardisready as well as anyone else who might just want to. But no pressure to, on anyone.
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WiP Wednesday: Aang’s Vow of Nonviolence
Big things have been happening in Llama’s life lately, career-wise, and it’s good, but it means I gotta not spend all my time writing and actually, you know, work. (Which I think actually does good things for my writing, because I wrote AND FINISHED Fire and Water (165k words) during fucking Get Out the Vote somehow) (and we kicked ass Getting Out the Vote, just saying)
Anyway, as I try to get back into the schedule of actually having a life and employment, I’m gonna try to get back to posting WiP Wednesdays more often, as well as any finished chapters/fics I have.
SO all that said - this fic is something I started because I have a LOT of feelings about Aang’s vow of nonviolence and his people’s belief in peace. Enjoy!
Zuko: Well, that sweet little kid grew up to be a monster, and the worst father in the history of fathers.
Aang: But he's still a human being.
Zuko: You're going to defend him?
Aang: No, I agree with you. Fire Lord Ozai is a horrible person, and the world would probably be better off without him, but there's got to be another way.
Zuko: Like what?
Aang: I don't know.
––
Zuko did not expose his body idly, Aang had noticed quickly. From what he knew about Zuko, it was easy to see that if he didn’t feel comfortable doing it, he wouldn’t. Which meant that when he took off his shirt during practice, he was trusting Aang with what he saw.
Because there was a lot to see. Like, a horrifying amount.
Zuko was covered in scars. None were as bad as his face, but the sheer number of them…
The only reason Aang had been able to resist going into the Avatar State from sheer horrified anger the first time was because he knew it would just scare Zuko away and make him regret offering this piece of trust.
So instead, Aang swallowed down his temper and acted like there was nothing to see, nothing to comment on. Zuko smiled at him in response, so he knew he chose correctly, but even so, every time he saw Zuko’s bare skin, he was filled with such impotent rage and hatred that it scared him.
It scared him because he wanted to hurt Ozai, he wanted to make him suffer the way he’d caused Zuko to suffer. Ozai deserved to suffer, to die even.
But Aang couldn’t kill him. He just couldn’t.
He was the last of the Air Nomads, the last who understood the true meaning of air: freedom. Freedom from violence was part of that. Aang believed in that. He believed in his people’s pacifism and he believed in nonviolence and yet, he still wanted to make Ozai suffer.
And that was precisely why he couldn’t. Because – because if Aang crossed that line, there would be no coming back. He was the Avatar, he was extremely powerful and the Fire Nation may not like him much, but the rest of the world listened to him in a way that still kind of freaked him out.
If he made the decision to hurt Ozai, to kill Ozai, no one would stop him.
So he couldn’t make that decision. Because it wasn’t about Ozai at all – it was about Aang and what he believed and he refused to compromise his values for the kind of scum that could burn a child.
Extensively.
Spirits, Zuko had so many scars, it made Aang want to cry. Each one was an instance of the world failing his friend. Each one was an instance where someone should have protected Zuko, but no one ever did.
Each one challenged Aang’s belief in nonviolence – but Aang refused to be overcome in this. Ozai deserved punishment, yes. But Aang believed in doing no harm, and his job as the Avatar was to bring balance and justice, not revenge.
He refused to kill Ozai, because as horrible of a person as Ozai was, he was still a human being and Aang had made a vow when he’d gotten his arrows and he would not break it. His people had taught him that every human being deserved life and liberty and compassion and basic necessities no matter what.
Because if Aang did to Ozai all the things he wanted to… he would be no better than Ozai, who took this anger and irritation out on Zuko and on the world simply because he could.
Unfortunately, Aang knew that Zuko didn’t understand, because the next morning after Aang had expressed that he refused to kill Ozai, Zuko’s shirt was back on during firebending training.
Zuko didn’t take it off, even when it meant that he had to concentrate harder to keep the flames from eating his sleeves, and Aang knew what he was truly saying.
I showed you my scars, Zuko said, and you refuse to stop the man who gave them to me. I gave you vulnerability and you threw it in my face.
Aang wanted to cry. “Zuko,” he started quietly, but Zuko immediately turned away, voice terse.
“Next set.”
He blinked rapidly, falling into the next kata just as Zuko instructed. He tried to respect that Zuko didn’t want to talk about it, he really did.
Then he reached out to touch Zuko’s forearm and – Zuko flinched. Zuko hadn’t flinched at his touch since they’d danced with the dragons together.
Aang withdrew his hand instantly and tried not to cry. How could he fix this?
He took a breath and blurted out, “I want to kill him.”
Zuko stopped. “What?”
“The – the Fire Lord,” Aang said, trying to continue, because this was the most willing Zuko had been to hearing what he had to say all day. “I want – spirits, Zuko, I want to make him suffer. He deserves to suffer.”
“Then why–!?”
“Because he’s still a human being. Because I made a vow to never bend with the intent to harm another creature. Because I’m the only one left and I can’t betray my people. I can’t!” He sniffled, aware of the heat in his eyes. “I’m not – I’m not saying he isn’t horrible. He is. The world would be better off without him. But I can’t kill him!”
Zuko frowned, mouth opening.
“And I can’t allow him to be killed either,” Aang said flatly. “It’s not – it’s not about him, Zuko. It’s about me. I made a vow before the Great Spirit Lungta and the Elders of the Southern Air Temple that I would do no harm. This – this isn’t just–” he could feel the tears overflowing, dripping down his cheeks. “This is important to Air Nomads! There were different levels of vows, but just to enter a temple, you had to pledge that you would do no harm. Because the temples were places of peace and nonviolence.” He sniffed deeply, wiping at his eyes. “Nonviolence is core to who we are, Zuko. It’s not just – it’s not something casual. It’s our whole life. And it’s not easy! It’s not supposed to be easy!”
“What?” Zuko’s nose scrunched in confusion.
“All life is sacred,” Aang explained, “but pacifism is about more than that. It’s about intent. We take vows that we will never willfully harm others, that we will never raise a fist in anger, that we will forgive rather than punish. And it’s – it’s hard to forgive. It hurts. But it’s a choice I make because that is what my people would want of me. Because it is hard, but it’s important to do so anyway. Because violence only ever begets more violence and because I will not break my vows. I am the last Air Monk in the world. I can’t betray my people’s teachings. I can’t.”
Zuko absorbed that in silence for long minutes, then he nodded slightly. “Next set,” he said and Aang hopped up to practice, glad that he’d been heard.
Zuko still didn’t take his shirt off, though.
Aang told himself that he couldn’t push, that Zuko could only trust him when Zuko was ready to. But it hurt something deep in his chest to have lost this measure of vulnerability from Zuko and he swallowed down tears, wishing – but what good had wishing ever done? He wished his people were still here, but they weren’t. He wished he and Katara could be together, but they weren’t. He wished the war was over, but it wasn’t. He wished the whole world was at peace, but it wasn’t.
He wished Zuko trusted him, but Zuko didn’t and he couldn’t force that to change.
All he could do was his best, and if his best wasn’t ever enough… well, he would just have to respect Zuko’s choice, no matter how much it made his chest ache.
It was hard, knowing that no one left in this world truly understood what nonviolence meant to his people. Knowing that his friends, for all they tried, couldn’t really conceive of what it would mean to live a life without the need for violence.
Knowing that when Aang said ‘peace’, they heard one word and not the eighty-seven others that had individual names amongst the Air Nomads, but which all translated the same.
Not really sure where to go after this, so suggestions welcome, but yeah. Aang is a PACIFIST and that’s a BIG DEAL!!!!
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WIPS & 2024 Plans!
Hey ya’ll. So as hinted at I have a lot of ideas and works in progress so wanted to kind of do a little summary and tease some of the stuff I’m currently throwing around and kind of give and make a plan of action for the coming year regarding my content here.
I finally finished the office kinktober prompt after nearly two months of it being half written as said in the authors note, I am giving up on the idea of kinktober/kink til Christmas altogether. But there are still a few ideas that came from that list I do really want to write which will be included in the future ideas portion of this post but yeah… let’s just start with the current WIPs and what’s gonna come first.
Current WIPS (with summaries)
In order of completion with rough estimate of posting!
Spiders and Lace
1920s Mob Spider-Man Au where Peter starts dating a young socialite in order to get to her criminal brother.
(First Part releasing this December)
The Secrets We Keep
A Jeb Pyre (Under The Banner of Heaven) multi chapter story. Jeb is starting a new job in a new town after the Lafferty case where he meets an old school friend. Both of them are running from their hometown and hiding secrets, but will those secrets crush this new budding romance?
(Series starting in January, date to be announced)
WIPS Currently On The Shelf
These have all either been teased and parts not posted or one or two parts posted then currently abandoned. I have stuff written for these and aim to go back to them at some point I just don’t know if or when.
I Will Always Find You
A multiple part Pedro and Oscar character’s fic featuring different linked AUs looking at the idea of past lives and reincarnating with the same souls.
(I keep picking this up and putting it back down but I love the idea and it means so much to me and I want to do it right, so until I can do it justice, it’s on the shelf.)
Metanoia
When Mando takes on a job to retrieve a kidnapped young senator, the two of them end up on a journey that has Mando questioning his whole way of life.
(I have posted the first chapter of this but may take it down as I don’t know when I’ll go back to this idea and I think I want to adjust it anyway. This is basically just a story to really go into what I wanted from Mando’s journey meeting other mandalorians and how it makes him question his creed seeing how other mandalorians live and getting to really explore that inner turmoil.)
Future/2024 Ideas
Some of these may get written some time next year, some of them may come later, some may never get written at all, but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway.
No Body No Crime
Based on the Taylor Swift song, this is a murder mystery that would feature multiple crossover characters from Dave York (the murdered husband), Joel Miller (the accomplice lover), Jeb Pyre (the detective) and possibly a few other characters from across the Pedro, Andrew and Oscar character lists. I love this song and I do have a whole list of ideas just based on Taylor Swift songs which may become their own mini series with a song for each album, but I really want to write a multi chapter fic based on this song.
Untitled Joel Miller Fic
I already made a post with this idea. Inspired by the Mummy, as I feel Rick O’Connell and Joel Miller give me similar energy. However instead of fighting Mummies we’d be fighting Infected to hunt down different artefacts a particular bookish main character wants to protect and preserve. Think road trips, myths, history and unlikely allies with ridiculous sexual tension.
Triple Frontier Boys One Shot
I’ve been fantasising about a very naughty TF boys one shot which is pretty much straight smut and one rocking night for reader. I did start writing some bits for this a few nights back, but didn’t like it the next day but plan to return to it at some point.
Tis The Damn Season
Another of those previously mentioned prompts inspired by Taylor songs, Tis The Damn Season is a Frankie Morales one shot that may come sooner than we think as it’s an idea set at Christmas. Frankie goes back to visit his parents one time a year and always ends up back at your place on Christmas Eve like your very own Santa Claus.
—————————————————
So those are my current WIPS, ideas and plans. Let me know which you’re most interested in.
#backtothefanfiction#current WIPS#fanfic ideas#pedro character imagines#andrew garfield characters#Joel miller#Taylor swift song prompts#Dave York#Jeb pyre#under the banner of heaven#Spider-Man#au stories#story plans#2024 writing plans#peter parker x reader#andrew!peter parker#the mandalorian#I will always find you#triple frontier#oscar issac characters#works in progress
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So, recently I just learned Relocation Depression is a thing.
Which isn't something I would normally associate with myself because my family moved around pretty much my entire life. Maybe my parents did a good job of cushioning the blow by turning it into an adventure. Moving means a brand new bedroom I get to paint, a brand new park to play in, a brand new forest to explore, a brand new school where my bullies don't go to. Sure, my old friends wouldn't be there but I have my older brother, and he's already my best friend so its fine.
This time however I'm not feeling the old joys of being in a new place, decorating my own apartment, trying new food, and making new friends. Everyone I love is now in a different time zone so now I have to workaround when is the best time to call. I can't see them on a whim anymore, can't tell them I how weird it feels being in a different country where the culture is different, the rules are different, the people are different and you feel like an oddity for just being yourself.
Lately I just feel tired.
I've felt tired for a while but I think I've just been ignoring the signs. I have trouble convincing myself to go to bed when I'm tired, I keep jolting awake at 3am convinced I overslept, and I'm stressed out at work. I'm gonna be taking on more responsibility and its becoming very clear there are gaps in my knowledge that I need to fix before anyone finds out I'm way underqualified. My new co-workers said some pretty transphobic shit over the course of my first week. To the point I've now associated the word "mental case" with my own sense of self because that's what they believe someone like me is. A mental case.
My gender dysphoria has shot through the roof, so now I'm stress eating again which is just feeding my dysphoria even more. I'm painfully aware I don't fit into my favourite jeans anymore, my fat is hanging in the wrong places on my hips, my breasts are getting bigger, and I couldn't come out of the closet even if I wanted to because my brain won't be satisfied until I "look how I'm suppose to look". Enby folk are all beautiful skinny androgynous people with dyed hair. I don't look like that, so I avoid looking in mirrors and critique my height, high-pitched voice and the other girly parts I want to hack off with a knife.
Worse, I can't escape my own thoughts because I constantly make excuses for why I don't have the time to enjoy any of my hobbies. Can't write my original story because I have a backlog of fanfics I wanna write. Oh, can't write any of these fics because there's too many WIPs and I'm overwhelmed by choice. I wanna RP again but I have too many muses fighting for attention and the muse I want to write for needs their own blog and that's my least favourite part of the process.
Writing is overbearing, lets do something else instead.
I want to practise drawing my own characters, but I lost any skill I had as a kid and its gonna take way too long to catch up and be where I need to be...maybe I should just watch youtube tutorials instead of practising.
I wanna learn Spanish on my commute to work, oh but I always listen to audible in the car. Which one do I pick? Maybe I should just listen to music that doesn't require me to pay attention.
I downloaded a ton of games to play so maybe I can do that instead. No, I'm not a little kid anymore. I'll just feel guilty for wasting the entire day away playing video games instead of doing chores.
Maybe I could watch this series on my watch list? No, I'm not really in the mood to give this thing my full attention...maybe I should just scroll social media. That doesn't require any brain power. Social media is always there for me. It would never hurt me.
I'm sad now...Maybe I should quit social media...but what else would I do?...Wow I'm lonely. I should talk to my friends...but its been years and I'm sure they're busy...and its gonna be weird to jump out of the blue asking to pick up where we left off...is that selfish?...Wanting to rekindle a friendship because you're lonely?...That doesn't sound like something a good friend would do...I wish I was a good person...maybe I would have done a better job of making time for my friends...I miss them...I'm sorry I was a shit friend...I wish we could go back to college and start over...I promise I'll appreciate you this time around...But you're married and have different prioritise now...it sounds nice having a roommate...it sounds nice having someone to go home to...
#Negative#personal#tbd#gender dysphoria#body dysphoria#basically my brain is picking apart my sense of self#and its getting harder to argue as the years go by
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Snippet From WIP Chapter 3 of 36 Easy Steps to the Man of Your Dreams
(Keep in mind that I'm still writing the rest of this chapter, but for context, Steve and Eddie are doing the 36 Questions to Fall in Love. It isn't published until 1997 or so, but shhh fanfic is make believe.) Read the snippet below!
The next morning, Eddie finds himself awake just as Wayne leaves for work. Something around eight. He knows that Steve hasn’t made his way out yet, the Beemer sitting shiny and too pretty in the Munson’s driveway.
So he goes to the bathroom and showers. Brushes his teeth. Scrunches his hair and ties it up into a loose bun. Waltzes back to the kitchenette and makes eggs. Waits. At the breakfast nook with two plates of food on the table, two cups of coffee, and that stupid fucking magazine.
It’s not until eight-thirty that Steve stumbles out of Eddie’s room. Hair ruffled from the pillow. Clothes wrinkled. Drool crusted to his bottom lip.
“Morning,” Eddie greets into his coffee cup.
Steve hums. “Morning,” he mumbles back. Plops himself in the other dining chair across from Eddie. But he doesn’t pick up his fork. Just stares down at the plate. A hand wraps around the now cold coffee mug, but the lip never comes to Steve’s mouth. “Think I’m gonna burn that thing,” he states. Harsh. Loud in the quiet of this early August morning.
“Why’s that?” Eddie asks nonchalantly, flipping one of the pages. Reading something about young women in tennis. Another flip. They’re interviewing Donald Trump. Blegh, he thinks. Scrunches the paper at the corner and taps at the new page staring up at him. The questions.
He hears a huff come from Steve. “Stupid magazine is causing us to fight, that’s why.”
Eddie’s eyes dart up. Frantically finding Steve’s soured face, still turned to the dining table’s surface.
“What, did you think I’d forget how you treated me last night?” Steve’s voice clips. “Think I’d forget sobbing until my head hurt and then passing out in your bed? Which—“ His head finally snaps up. Eyes heated as they burn into Eddie’s own. “—You didn’t even wanna lay with me. We always share the bed when we smoke. Always. And you—“ His voice pitches upwards and cuts off. Clicks his tongue, shakes his head, and looks back at the table.
Flabbergasted is the only way to explain how Eddie feels right now. But, though there’s confusion, he is also simmering with easy anger.
“You know what, Steve?” He spits. “I did kind of think you’d forget. I thought you’d forget all about how you were fucking with me. Touching me all sweet. Saying all that stupid, flirty shit you've probably used on all the girls around town.” He knows he’s sneering now. He knows that if he were a dog, he’d be baring his teeth with no trouble. Maybe there’d be some snarling drool. Foam at the mouth. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t—“I don’t think we should smoke together anymore. It—We do this thing where our hands go places where they shouldn’t. We say things we don’t mean. Fuck, if I were anymore stoned last night, I’d tell you that I love you. That’d be a fucking waste.”
He stands from his chair. Takes his dirty dishes and scurries to the sink. Drops them into some hot, soapy water and scrubs like he’s been hired as Wayne’s personal dishwasher.
Eddie can feel Steve’s eyes burn into his back. Lasering two identical holes into his bare skin.
“What the fuck does that mean?” Steve practically growls.
Instead of answering, Eddie scrubs harsher. Faster. Messier. The plate’s clean, but he can sense a new spot of egg. Can materialize a new stain if he looks hard enough.
“What does that mean?” Steve whines.
Twirling around, Eddie shouts, “It means that I don’t love you, Steve! Not when you treat me like this! Jesus Christ!” His chest heaves. Blood boiling. “It means that I’m tired of doing this thing where we’re best friends in daylight, but behind closed doors at night I’m some fucking—I don’t know—some statue to ogle! I—Steve, this—Either we’re friends or we don’t talk, that’s it.”
“Those can’t be our only options,” Steve argues. “We can be friends and fuckin’ hold hands and still talk! I don’t see how things need to—“
“I don’t want to hang out anymore, man. We can’t.”
“Can’t or don’t?”
“For now?” Eddie questions aloud. Steve nods. “For now, we won’t,” he chooses. Pushes himself off of the counter he’s been leaning on. Strides to the table and snatches up that magazine. The cursed thing. He slams it into Steve’s chest. “I read the question we didn’t answer last night.” Fingers clench at the front cover, effectively crumpling and ruining the image of Estelle Lefébure. “If I make it to ninety, I hope I keep the body of a thirty year old. Maybe my brain will have forgotten about you by then.” He steps away from Steve. Glaring. “Finish your eggs and coffee, get changed, clean up. You look like a mess. I’m having a smoke,” he relays cooly.
And now he’s sitting on the porch. A second cigarette sitting between his lips. He knows that Steve shouldn’t be taking this long. So he gets curious, looks over his right shoulder into the window that the breakfast nook peers into. But Steve isn’t there. In fact, he’s shuffling out from the bathroom in his clothes from the day before. Holding that thing in his hands. Like it’ll protect him from demo-creatures if there were anymore.
He comes through the trailer’s front door and Eddie whips back to look out beyond the porch. Steve stands near the couch. Hovering.
His shadow isn’t quite as tall as it usually is. And out of the corner of his eye, Eddie can see how his previously golden skin has paled. His hair still mussed. The timid hunch to his back.
A part of him wants to reach out and hold Steve. Wants to be touched again. But he can’t have that. Not with how he just treated him.
“I read it for myself,” Steve whispers. “I don’t want to forget about you, Eds. That’d be a terrible thing.” He shuffles a little bit. A nervous thing that he does, Eddie has kept track.
But, Eddie can’t respond. Doesn’t think he knows how without saying something awful. He can’t keep hurting Steve, it’s not fair.
“I love you, y’know?” Steve murmurs. He sniffles. “Stupid—I’m so stupid for thinking this would work,” he whispers once again.
That’s when Eddie hears it, the tumbling of the magazine. The loud plop on the porch. All the pages falling open, probably getting crushed by the force of gravity. Then, Steve turns around, fast enough that a gust of wind whooshes. He begins to stomp down the stairs.
He says, “I’m sorry,” before getting in his car and speeding away.
#stranger things#steddie#ao3#fanfiction#angst#steve harrington#eddie munson#wip#lmao I love writing mean Eddie munson
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Frustrated Friday
tagged by @mammameesh and @apothecarose
Post five or so sentences from the section of your current wip that you are stuck on, and kind readers can reply with guesses as to what will happen next or what they hope will happen next. You don't have to provide any other information unless you want to.
gonna have to go with something from my richasshole!patrick wip lmao really hope to work more on it someday.
Patrick fiddled with his eyebrow piercing and asked his father, “What about it?” He was slouched in one of his father’s office chairs, one foot pressed horizontally against the mahogany desk.
Clint clenched his fists on the desk as he stared down at his son in the Brewer home office. “‘What about it’?” he mocked. “What about it, is that this now all that anybody is talking about instead of me winning reelection, kiddo, that’s what’s about it!” Even when Clint Brewer was pissed, he still never got out of the habit of calling his son, “kiddo”.
He looked at his father in a way that implied that he still didn’t get what the key issue was. Which was true: he didn’t. His father won, why did it matter what he did in his spare time? He wasn’t the one in congress. When it was clear to Clint that his son still showed apathy towards the situation, he sighed and leaned forward, trying to make eye contact with Patrick. “Look, Patrick. I’m fine with you going out with Rachel and a few of your friends.” Patrick’s eyebrows rose in doubt. His father always hated it when Patrick went out with his friends. Claiming that his friends were a bad influence on him since he always ended up either at best inebriated with something or at worst in another city or state. Not knowing that Patrick was the bad influence all along. The only friend of Patrick’s his parents ever liked was Rachel. “I even helped you out with the whole escape room mix up. But this,” he pointed to the top of the picture. “This can’t keep happening, Patrick. We have an image to maintain. If you want to one day have a respectable job-”
“Wait, isn’t the point of me having an inheritance mean I don’t have to work?” Patrick interrupted, sitting up properly.
Clint smiled smugly. “You really think because you have an inheritance I wouldn’t put some sort of stipulation on it? No, kiddo, you’re getting a job. I didn’t have you get a business degree just for shits and giggles. In fact, at my reelection party, you will have the chance to do some interviews.” He frowned down at the TMZ article before crunching it up into a ball and throwing it away into a nearby trash can. “Let’s just hope none of them have seen this shit before hiring you,” he grumbled.
tagging @mallpretzles, @mostlyinthemorning @jamilas-pen, @lizzie-bennetdarcy, @stereopticons and anyone else who might be having writing struggles?
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MI6 Cafe Creators Tag Game
(Thank you so much for tagging me, @silverbrume!)
We’d love for people to keep getting to know each other after this year’s 007 Fest, so we’re starting this tag game!
Rules: Answer the questions, then tag 3 new people to complete this. Also, tag the person who tagged you and @mi6-cafe so we can reblog your response.
Note that when we say ‘fanwork’ in the questions below, that could mean a fanfic, gif, fanart, headcanon, cosplay, crocheted work—any kind of fancreation counts!
1. What work of yours challenged you when you were creating it?
Can I count my ongoing 00Q WIP-epic Off the Books? Yeah, I’m gonna say this is my biggest challenge. I’ve never posted a WIP before, and it’s a much bigger challenge than I anticipated, controlling the pacing, the evolving relationship dynamics, and the gradual reveal of exposition. It doesn’t help that it’s already my longest work to date, and it’s only 1/3 done at 54k. I’ve got reams of notes for this fic and a heavily detailed outline to follow, but I still agonize over nailing all my set-ups and pay-offs. Very challenging project, but my most-rewarding by far.
2. What is a fanwork you’ve seen which gave you a new headcanon about a character?
Queen of Spades by Astolat. One of the first 007 fics I ever read, it took the M & Craig butting-heads dynamic from Casino Royale and amplified their antagonism and manipulations and competition into the stratosphere. I fell in love with Astolat’s headcanons of a Bond who resents orders and leadership but craves M’s approval, and an M who effortlessly manipulates Bond into becoming the agent she wants him to be, and even as Bond sees those manipulations happening, he can only rise to her challenges instead of turning his back on them.
3. Is there a fanwork that you really want to make, but you haven’t started yet?
Yes! I’ve got a pre-slash 00Q fic all planned and researched, wherein Bond’s punishment for a botched mission is bodyguard-duty for Q at a conference in Salzburg. In this AU, Q & Bond don’t know each other well and have an adversarial relationship. En route, Bond mercilessly taunts Q about his blatant fear of flying…until Bond realizes just after takeoff that Q has dosed himself with an anxiolytic/hypnotic to get through the short flight. Now Bond has a heavily drugged quartermaster at his mercy, and he must choose whether to be cruel or kind for the next seven hours. (Spoiler: Bond chooses kindness, and they forge a mutual respect and tentative friendship by the story’s end.) Tentative title “Bases to Guard or Beleaguer.” Just gotta finish writing a couple other fics before I can start banging this one out.
4. What fanwork of yours surprised you, and how?
I was surprised how effortlessly Touch It, Stroke It, and Undress It came together for 007 Fest 2022. In summer of 2021, I came up with a series of vignettes for aromantic!Q sleeping with all the agents, amusingly thwarting Bond’s seduction attempts. This year I decided to flesh the ideas out into a series of standalone smut scenes with an overarching “lovers to friends-with-benefits” arc for Fest, and I somehow cranked out 21k of smut in under a month! Biggest surprises of the resulting fic: A) I haven’t been that prolific in a decade; B) the multiple POVs were an engaging challenge to figure out; and C) once I stopped being self-conscious about sharing all my kinks, the smut became downright fun to write.
5. What themes/styles/subjects are common across many of your fanworks?
I’m all about hurt/comfort (though if I injure a character too seriously, they can’t have the celebratory ‘we survived’ sex, so I tend to go minor-to-moderate on the physical trauma). And I’m currently fascinated with all the possible variations on a drugging storyline, so expect to see that crop up in my next few fics.
6. What other fandoms do you create for, if any?
None right now, but last year I did fics for The Mandalorian and The Man from UNCLE.
7. Is there an artist that you like to listen to while you create? Or one whose work always inspires you?
I can’t listen to English lyrics when I’m writing, so I listen to a lot of instrumental or foreign-language albums. I spent the month of July looping the Argentinian singer-songwriter Federico Aubele’s second album, Panamericana (produced by Eighteenth Street Lounge Music (shoutout Washington DC!!!) so it’s got sexy-chill electro-lounge vibes), featuring Fede’s genius guitar work and hauntingly gorgeous guest vocals over Latin dance rhythms. And now for August, I’m hooked on a YouTube playlist called Tropical Night Bossa Nova that’s all dreamy/beachy guitar instrumentals.
8. Share a fanwork that you’ve found yourself thinking about weeks after reading/seeing it.
In 2016, @beaubete wrote a 300-word piece for Last Drabble Writer Standing called “Property,” wherein Q poses as a buyer to rescue Bond from a slavery ring. I read that fic on June 1, 2021, and it completely rewired my brain. Within four days I’d planned out the entirety of Off the Books, a 150k sequel for a goddamn drabble I’m still writing a year later, and I joined a new fandom, and now I’m a part of the MI6-Cafe. If it hadn’t been for that genius, shocking cliffhanger of a drabble, I might not have started writing in this fandom and meeting everyone in the Cafe, so I’m still so, so grateful that Beaubete’s fanwork exists.
9. Finally, share where you post your works!
My AO3 page
Tagging: @prismatic-bell & @kmk1701d & @a-forger-and-a-point-man
@mi6-cafe
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Hi Big Bro !
For the ask, what about : 3, 7, 10, 18, 19, 36 and 39 ?
Take your time to answer ! Hope you have a good day/evening/night 💖
LIL BRO I missed you in my asks too 🥺 ! I'll answer under the cut !
3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed ?
Of course it is cursed. It starts with a white page of google docs. Then I can spend hours or days until I write something. Usually it's a -, followed by a list of miscleanous stuff : quotes, "I want them to kissy kissy umbrella shared ;w; !", sets of clothes to describe, ANYTHING. And then I organise it. It takes so little time. Then I give up, since I'm satisfied. Then it haunts my dreams until I open the page turned WIP. And then I write 20k in 5h or so and I post it UNPROOFED and I let you read while I sleep or go to work. I don't even check the reactions afterwards, I'm that mother who doesn't look at the crying baby but is just happy it isn't inside anymore I'm so sorry.
7. What is your deepest joy about writing ?
That's gonna be a weird one, but : feeling. Feeling stuff I never felt in real life or on the contrary writing about raw unrestrained feelings I got to experience. Even weirder : panic attacks make me so much more able to write angst and characters losing it because I know what it is. I know what bounds are like, I know what love feels like for I cherish a few selected people, but as an aro/ace I don't love that way. That's why I feel so happy writing about feelings, all kind of them.
10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you ? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you ?
Oh I get haunted a LOT. Daydreams, dreams, little bits of dialogues running through my head at work, a song making me jolt because it'd be perfect... that's why I do lists before writing, it's like vacuuming all these haunting parts and create a puppet out of it for you to see. I perceive that as "this is something worth writing and showing to the world", it's a green light and a good omen !
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.
"There are two things that make the God of Winter feel alive : the pure unrestrained happiness to see his children and the pure unrestrained pleasure to know deep down that he isn’t the one who suffers the most."
I'd rather use an original work for this one if you'll allow me. This glimpse of Léviatha'n's crooked sense of joy if both a foreshadowing (of what will happen because of him in Esporys) and a mirror shot from Aleksiel in He Who Rules Above the Snow ("His sleep was fit for he knew the turmoil he caused in his close family's minds, and their toss and turns turned into wicked lullabys soothing his heart.").
At first it was more straightforward, showing only Léviatha'n's malignity but it didn't work : Léviatha'n is both extremes, the dead quiet mirror sea and the tide tearing everything apart. He had to be balanced by something equally unbalanced which is the love for his children. Just like Zaga'n is everything to Suzak, Lantide and Léviath are everything for Léviatha'n and the wicked sense of pleasure he gets out of Suzak's endless mourning comes back to bite him when his children die in front of him. Did he learn anything from it ? Of course not, the sea doesn't learn to evade people to avoid suffering, it only restore the bodies to shore sometimes. That was the feeling I wanted for him and I think it turned out well !
19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start ? Why did you start ? Were there bumps along the way ? Where are you now and where are you going ?
I started when I was 5 or 6. My childhood wasn't really a happy one, so instead I wrote stories of things that didn't happen to me to brighten it : winged bunnies hopping next to the bus like dolphins do close to boats, imaginary friends I was the only one able to see who laughed as they stole apples from the neighbour's tree with me, ... my father always indulged me in these fantasies, my mother way less.
There have been a few bumpses like right now because I am drained from work and just WISH I could chill and do nothing, slowing down all my creative process. I also had a few in middleschool when I became terrified of writing, one of my bullies reading texts she found aloud for everyone to laugh at me.
I have two solid novels I can share with the world though, a visual novel planned and many novels to write about the lore of the Life Marble, stories of unconsequential characters to show their daily life, insights of the Gods' minds, diaries found after the End, ... I also started drawing to be able to give my characters some realness. Will I be able to do it ? Wait and see !
36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know ?
I know of loss, grief and not belonging. I know of secrets unshared gnawing at your insides and invasive thoughts. Of the fear of lies colliding between two worlds you tried to keep separate. Of panic attacks of being too much and too less at the same time, of blaming looks and punching walls and yelling to get people to look at me. I know of being put aside because I asked for basic decency.
I also know of softness and joy, of shared looks and desires, of joined hands kissed softly under an apple tree. I know of aspirations, of setting a clear way and being patted on the back after offering the word they needed or a hot chocolate. I know of the silent gratitude in shared looks after discovering someone did something for you the way you wanted it done.
I know of baby steps and the pride of keeping balance when everything starts to tip. I know of taking commands or receiving them without arguing, because sometimes people should really let their ego aside and stop feeling attacked out of thin air. I know of putting myself first, saying no and biting back too.
39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up ?
Writing is as necessary as breathing for me. It comes easily, trained since childhood, and no matter the support or the time I'll always be able to do it. I am tired but will still write a description of a peculiar plant in my lore or find a new way to sign documents for Aksel. Because you don't need to write 450 pages to be writing. Just like reading comics is still reading, roleplaying, creating charasheets and lore is still writing.
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17 & 18 🧡
hey there, my friend. thanks so much; i hope you're having a great day! <3
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
ahhhhh. hm. you know. it's funny because i don't currently have a fic wip for naruto. and that's the first time i can say that in more than four years, which is wild & also very weird.
i do have a fic in another fandom i'm trying to finally wrap up and i can tell you that the Big Non-Reveal of this paranormal au is that the evil spirit which has attached itself to one of the characters was placed there by her uncle, that her entire family knew of its existence before she was given the house by her grandfather, moved in, and became possessed. the characters don't really need to know that her uncle is responsible. all that matters is that there is evil and they are going to save this girl from it, but i know (and now so do you) and it's important to me only because she was very close with her uncle and thought she could trust him but it turns out he's even more evil than the evil she's discovered in the house.
that's probably very confusing and i apologize but i don't think giving more detail about the fic matters too much, since no one has or will read it, ahaha. <3
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.
(gonna put a read more here because the answer got long oops)
since i didn't answer the last question with anything about kakashi or naruto, i will do so for this one:
Your blades clash together—the abrasive song of metal on metal ringing out against the trees; you can feel the reverberation of it through your forearms. You both press forward, digging your heels into the soft moss beneath your feet, leaning with all your weight. Water leaks up from the ground into your shoes. Your faces press close enough together that your nose touches the cool ceramic of his mask, your blades just barely biting into one another’s shoulders.
It happens when you first spill each other’s blood.
Both of you spring apart, screams tearing from your throats in unison as you clutch at your chests. When you open your eyes, you see your opponent across from you, the front of his cloak hanging open to reveal the new, twisted scar over his breastbone. One you know will mirror the knot of flesh over your own heart. You can feel it through your shirt, even if you can’t see it, yet, and the implication of its appearance punctures your soul.
You look at the man in front of you with panicked eyes, pulse racing furiously against your thoughts. “It’s you?”
i am still very enamored of the idea behind the strength of vines. this concept of soulmates that is rather ugly and painful instead of sweet or lovely. idk i think i was certainly driven to create this idea because (a) it's hard to come with new & different soulmate tropes and (b) love is fucking hard, y'all. there's nothing easy about it a;dfjsaf even if the universe somehow designated your perfect match for you, it would still take determination and strength and work. and i wanted to embody that concept the best i could.
the idea really only changed in that i expanded on the original, much smaller concept, making the scars sort of increasingly invasive as i developed the fic (which began as an original fantasy idea that i molded into a kakashi/reader because wtf else was i gonna do with it, ahaha). the scars became more gruesome, the way you got them more perilous (i don't remember when i decided oh they have to try and kill one another first! but i'm glad i did). the idea of this vine twisting itself through your body without your consent reminds me of love in lots of ways, the part of it that isn't always so romantic or rose-colored; the way it can take you over without you meaning to let it.
actually, it probably stems from the first thing i ever wrote about real actual love in my life (after my heart was broken) which was, in part:
... it crawled inside my chest, found my heart, and planted you there. it watered you, cared for you, until you grew too large for my chest and you spread. into my bones, up my spine to my brain where you took root in my thoughts and drowned out everything else until my body was no longer my own, just a vessel for you.
so i guess actually the idea of the bonded mark being a scar over your sternum makes a lot of sense; all the people we love leaves scars on our hearts. some are uglier, more twisted than others. but they're all there. and i like the idea that even if its ugly on the outside, what it represents--with enough time and care and nurturing--can be very beautiful.
i hope that makes at least a little bit of sense, ahaha. <3
weird questions for writers (because writers are weird)
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Hiiii, Sleepy! :D For the ask game, specifically as many WIPs as you're willing to cover: Tomato Soup: A scene that went different from planned. Also, in general: Clam Chowder: A scene that has special meaning to you
why do you want me to work so much, Breezy, I thought we were friends.
clam chowder - a special meaning scene!
this one where Jet and Rune sleep together for the first time
He stands, pulling her up with him before he changes his mind. They’re still holding hands, so he tugs her over to his bed and finally releases her so she can crawl in first.
When he settles down on his side, there’s a decent amount of space between them. It doesn’t feel right, so for all that this should be terrifying or strange, Jet puts his arms out and Rune slides forward to rest in them.
“You don’t need this,” he murmurs, stating a fact. “We’re strong and can live without each other. But it’s too early, and I can hold you.”
“So why not?” Rune finishes the thought, her breath meeting his collarbones. “Feels good, actually.”
“Will we talk about it later?” The day might be slowly approaching but so is sleep.
“No. We don’t need to. We know what this is.”
Jet feels the world start to slip away but whispers, “What is it?”
Rune sighs against him, contentedly. “Home.”
tomato soup - scenes that went different from planned!
first of all - I do not plan scenes. I have vague sketches in my head that can be easily erased and resketched as needed.
second - yeah I've totally changed course mid-draft (or mid-baby-draft which I can't decide if that's worse or not) so then scenes went woop! and landed hard at the bottom of the stairs where I left them because oh well.
this is gonna be long so I'm gonna have to cut
so in summon story I originally wrote this scene:
“I can’t believe you summoned a Shidha in your first week.” Zan polished his twin daggers, probably staring at Shae a little too intensely. “No wonder you have so much power.”
Shae shook her head, mouth twisting into a regretful grimace. “No, see, I-” she visibly winced.
“I made an array to summon a drakis, but I erased it. When the Shidha showed up, Grimes and I had no idea how it slipped through. A Shidha can’t be summoned without an immaculate array, so there must have been one left withering on that spot that was never cleared. The combination of the arrays could have formed a crack. I did check the ground before I traced my own array, but if the blood isn’t scorched then,” Shae shook her head again, her cheek caught between her teeth. “I don’t know. Shidha are crafty, and I was even more inexperienced then.”
Zan felt his eyes growing wide.
“I had this much power, well, I had a lot of extra power before the Shidha incident.” She rubbed along her arms. “The Shidha didn’t attach to me, not completely. Grimes gave up a bone to dismantle my array completely and whatever what was underneath, and the Shidha couldn’t attach to that. I didn’t bleed, either, so how it keeps on tracking my summonings and showing up I have no idea.”
summon story was originally a dark academia set in a fantasy world and the rules for summoning were different. now that it's just fantasy with video game inspirations, I've changed a lot of things. instead of Shae being a summoner with a lot of power, she just comes from an important family. this thread was originally how she reunited with her half-sister, but now her half-sister finds her because they're both investigating the trail of this one summoner who happens to be the wip's antagonist.
so now this:
“You will kill for me and I will kill for you. But only one life.” She had pointed to the terms in the array, linked to the summoning by her own blood.
The shidha had considered her with something like mockery, something like pity. “One life,” it echoed, the pleasure of the idea slithering out of its form palpably. “Bleed on it, then.”
where Rhea makes a deal with a shidha is a separate plot point, and doesn't have adverse effects on Shae. instead, their reunion is about Rhea's quest for revenge:
"You're not welcome because you act like you don't even want to be here!" Shae had to clench her hands into tight fists around her skirt to keep them from grabbing at her sister. Her half-sister. Her very-much-not-dead half-sister. "I did wish you were alive and safe, but you clearly didn't care about me. Didn't you assume I was dead? Did you spent any of your precious time wishing that I had survived the fire? Or is revenge the only thing you care about anymore?"
"Revenge is such an ugly word." Rhea threw her last pebble into the water and met Shae's eyes with all the calm she couldn't muster herself. "I'm enacting justice. Isn't that what summoners do? Or what they should be doing, anyway."
so in youth story I originally wrote this scene:
“The front door of this place is basically a back door.”
Evie angled her upside down body a bit so she could look at Cal while she asked, “I’m sorry, what?”
Cal threw a sunflower seed at her. It bounced off her nose and onto her lilac shirt. “I mean, this is like an underground, back door type of club we’ve got going on. The front door is literally in the back of the building but also it just is one metaphorically? Figuratively? One of those words. We’re a back door club.” He squinted at the rest of the sunflower seeds in his palm dubiously. “Right?”
Evie slid down the couch with her feet still propped up on the back, but her head almost touching the floor. Her hands dangled off to touch it and hold herself while she flipped over to stand up. “Yeah, I guess,” she said, a little breathlessly, still looking as cool and unruffled as ever. “We’re a back door club. Literally.”
“And figuratively.”
“And figuratively. Toss me another seed.” Evie opened her mouth and waited while Cal sorted through to find a good one for tossing, presumably. When he finally found the right one, it found its destination in Evie’s mouth as per usual. “Keep ‘em coming.”
Cal dutifully threw seed after seed while he continued his thought process out loud. “Why are we so secretive about this club? It’s not like we’re doing anything. We don’t even drink the alcohol R so carefully stashed for us. Not that Bell would let us, but. Still. We’re just a bunch of kids talking about stupid stuff and feelings. There’s nothing worth hiding.”
“Isn’t there?” Evie held up a hand. “We’re all hiding from something. We meet here because we all feel that way and we want a secret place. We want a dumb club that exists for no other reason than that we’re all lonely kids with too much money and way too many emotions to not become delinquents. If we didn’t pretend to stash alcohol or punch each other once or twice a week, that’s what we’d all be. You know we would.”
but that doesn't work anymore because I changed the story and the characters' personalities so even though the basic sentiment remains attached, the club is not a club and it's just the friend group instead.
so there's no thesis, there's just shenanigans:
"He wasn't!" Mark plopped down onto a chair, exhausted. He had not anticipated this happenstance being a result of their newly minted acquaintanceship.
Cal pat his arm soothingly. "Of course not. If R was going to flirt with you, he'd be much more obnoxious about it. What happened next? Did you answer the person who asked?"
"R did. He said, 'yeah, we're mortal enemies."
"And you were offended because you thought you were friends."
Mark stared at Cal. Irina was also staring at Cal, but he couldn't figure out what her expression was supposed to be. He really must be transparent.
"Yeah," he said.
Irina shot up from her chair. "That's ridiculous. Mark and I are the new mortal enemies of the group. I'll go kill R."
Cal looked up at her, still fairly bright but with a strange expression traveling across his face. "Mortal enemies who care enough to punish their mutual friends for perceived offenses?"
Irina peered down her nose at them both. "What other kind is there?" And stormed off in that elegantly noisy way of hers.
so in dirt and the doing I wrote this:
Something is going on.
Rune had shown up with three bags of supplies for the garage fridge and spent much longer than usual discussing something with Moss in his office. Jet, finally resigned to the fact that he sort of worked at the garage now that wasn’t a student, had been working on someone’s motorcycle when Rune came in.
She’s still back there, talking just loud enough that Jet can hear snatches of things when he goes to grab a different tool. It’s nothing to go on, something about a house and two weeks and old furniture. He tries not to actively listen in, because if Rune wants him to know something she’ll tell him, but all the curiosity he’s never had digs itself out of the woodwork whenever Rune is around.
Jet shakes himself and hums a broken tune under his breath, tuning out any other noises besides his work.
and then in the google doc it says "finish later maybe" and that has not yet happened. I don't think it will.
hope you didn't mind reading so much, Breezy.
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1, 7, 13, 22!
thank u thank u!!!
Give short descriptions of all your current WIPs.
Well. Okay. We're gonna be here a while- okay I won't count the WIPs that are bare concepts/just lists of characters so far, to make this easier on myself.
A Modern Ghost Story - A group of semi-famous ghost hunters meets a group of semi-infamous immortals, and the two clash and bicker as they try to find a way to help a family deal with their ghost problem.
Bleeding Over Eden - Local man has so, so many problems, and he's going to put off addressing them for as long as possible and instead try to help everyone else with their problems. Also his ex, who was supposed to be dead, is back in his life now.
For We Are Both Fragile Things - Two gay guys, one trans and one cis, meet in college and fall in love, but everyone else realizes they're dating long before they do. It's a cute, classic slowburn! Except oh no things are TOXIC!!!!!! Also supernatural bullshit is happening but don't worry about that.
The Ruins of Memory - Fantasy sapphics, or: local woman is stressed and sad and has no memories, so she and her girlfriend are helping everyone else with their problems while trying to find the truth of who she is.
God Died With Wooden Bones - Local radio intern wants to stop his boss from summoning the old gods, and he's kind of upset about it, but really he probably shouldn't be doing that while he's at work so who's the real bad guy here.
Blackwell & Linwood - Mean spitfire of a private detective gets drawn into a supernatural adventure against his will, and by god if he isn't going to spend the whole time bitching about it.
CUDAAS - A group of angels and demons (well, not really, but they're at least the equivalents of that) become friends, several of them fall in love, and on the way they realize the power of working together and unionize. Also they kill a god or two.
Rook - A murder victim wakes up after their murder and decides to go on the hunt for their murderer, with the help of an amateur psychic.
I feel like I'm missing one. But this is a lot so that's all I'll do for now.
What books have shaped the way you think about writing the most? Why?
Okay here me out. Warrior cats. Warrior cats is the reason I started writing, and it's had the biggest impact on me as a writer.
I recognize that the writing in Warriors fucking sucks at the worst of times, and at the best of times it's.... decent. However, it was the first book series that got me super super invested, and it had a huge influence on me b/c I'm forever attached to animal fantasy and it influenced my writing in ways I don't fully know how to explain!
Also it kinda.... in a weird way, as I've gotten older.... has given me pretty strong opinions about What Not To Do. Namely, holy shit did Warriors teach me the importance of keeping track of your characters from the beginning of the story oh my GOD. Like I'm not perfect but OH MY GOD.
Other series that have definitely influenced me are Tales From the Gas Station (obviously lmao), the Fablehaven series, The Da Vinci Code and related books, Penpal by Dathan Auerbach, aaaand I don't remember a lot of their names but all the horror books I used to fucking devour and scare the shit out of myself with.
Describe your writing style.
Wow, those sure are sentences sometimes!
Jokes aside, I'd describe my style as, like... I like close POVs, but not close enough for first-person (I hate writing in first-person), I enjoy playing around with grammar and I try to have variety in my sentence length but I find myself tending towards long-ass sentences, aaaaand I like to try to be funny. I find sarcastic narration a delight to read.
How much of your own self/experiences do you believe pours into your projects? If this differs per project, which projects have the most and least of you?
This definitely differs per project, but I tend to put a lot of myself in my characters and storylines because for me, much of the time, fiction is how I process shit. I love to explore grand ideas, but sometimes you gotta just make a sad little guy and either give them the life you want or the life you've had and hope things get better.
I think the project that this is most apparent in, though, is one that I've kinda put to the wayside for many years now because it's SO personal that I actually don't really enjoy working on it usually. But that story deals a lot with some personal trauma, as well as in general is based on my complicated relationship with my gender and being an older sibling.
(And without going into it too much b/c I don't want to share too much personal trauma stuff publicly, the main idea of that story is an idea that I find myself really drawn to in fiction, which is the struggle of being an older sibling who couldn't protect their younger sibling.)
I think the story that has the least me in it would be CUDAAS, but even then it carries a lot of my perspectives on the world, people in power, and what makes someone truly human.
And also yeah the latest kinda-not-really WIP idea that crawled into my brain last night is also, if I go through with it, probably gonna be based pretty heavily on some shit I've been coming to terms with recently.
#talk to the bunnykitty#ask game#per ur suggestion i am now going to give u a new tag#nciko#as someone whose sense of humor is based like 80% on shit my friends and i misspell on discord#i feel this#anyway#long post#sorry i don't know how to be concise <3#god died with wooden bones#bleeding over eden#blackwell and linwood#fragile things wip#cudaas#a modern ghost story#the ruins of memory
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