#imagination-is-key-in-my-world fanfiction
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For a while, I kept periodically thinking about F/M Wangxian (Male Wei Wuxian and Female Lan Wangji) without being able to figure out why I kept being distracted by F/M Wangxian. I mean, I think different genderbending AU situations are fun to think about in fanfiction, especially in worlds where gender roles are a problem. M/M, F/M, M/F, and F/F Wangxian all change the story slightly and I think it's neat to explore why and how.
And obviously, F!LWJ would be a total babe, that's nice to think about, but why still M!WWX and not F!WWX? F!WWX would also be a total babe, though of a different type, especially as the Yiling Patriarch. But my brain kept insisting that M!WWX was still crucial somehow and I couldn't figure out why that setup.
I mean, it is funny to think about how M!WWX's unchanged flirty behavior in their teenage years would suddenly set off every single alarm bell in the Cloud Recesses due to people being able to SEE IT thanks to heteronormativity goggles. WWX with a degree of societal permission to be romantically interested in Lan Wangji? Intolerable levels of annoying. Unbearable to witness. Singing love songs under her balcony type bullshit like he wants her to start another fight under the moonlight. He's writing her poetry (clever "joke" poems bordering on innuendo and actual romantic poems) and has the gall to be good at it. Lan Qiren is barely resisting the urge to beat WWX off with a broomstick. Lan Xichen doesn't know whether to be horrified or delighted (LWJ is bluuuuushing).
I do also like the idea of WWX coming back from the dead and finding out that the common people have decided in the past decade (thanks to the heteronormativity goggles) that the noble female cultivator LWJ had a Tragic Romance with the Evil Yiling Patriarch. Poor woman! WWX: "Who had a what now?" (I do also like the idea of Wangxian actually having a Tragic Romance during and after the war. And mutually stated romantic interest and affection still didn't fix anything for them. But it's funny to think about WWX getting completely blindsided by this EPIC LOVE STORY if there was no actual relationship.)
(Sizhui is still adopted here! Noble and pure-hearted LWJ adopted a war orphan because she longed to be a mother but swore never to love again after the Yiling Patriarch broke her heart, obviously! WWX, listening to this gossip: "She what? I mean, Lan Zhan would make an amazing mom, good for her, lucky kid, and no one is good enough for her if she doesn't want to get married, but seriously, I cannot stress this enough, what the fuck. She didn't like me back! Aiyah, I bet she's still so mad at me for ruining her reputation like this.")
Eventually, I realized that the key piece of this AU that I was missing was that I wanted to write F/M Wangxian that turned into F/F Wangxian. Because I think Transfem Wei Wuxian would display (and I mean this affectionately) the most ridiculous trans egg behavior imaginable, especially because it would lean more towards one of those "I was mostly fine living as a guy, but I'm so much happier as a girl" situations. Absurd amounts of queer foreshadowing.
So, Wei Wuxian gets resurrected into a female MXY's body or something and obliviously goes, "Oh! This is nice! I've always wanted to try being a woman! Yes, I can roll with this." And eventually Wei Wuxian has to actually examine the fact that she really likes being a woman and doesn't want to "go back" to being a man in any way, but not before putting Lan Wangji through an incredible amount of new "joke" flirtation. And people who knew WWX before are like... "Hmm. Some things are making sense now."
Things like: 1) As a teenager, WWX insisted that LWJ was such a strong woman that, if they got married, LWJ could be "the husband" and "he" would happily be "the wife". There were lots and lots of "I want to live as Jiejie's spoiled wife" jokes. Consequently, at the Cloud Recesses, at least one outrageously inappropriate joke was made by WWX about LWJ knocking "him" up, because WWX's breeding kink is still very much a thing. WWX didn't know about her breeding kink when she made that joke; both she and LWJ learned something about themselves that day.
2) Wei Wuxian would frequently pull crossdressing-related pranks saying: "Wow, this is crazy. I can't believe you guys are forcing me to put on a dress and all this makeup for this prank! You guys are wild!" And Jiang Cheng would reply: "No one is forcing you to do this. No one dared you. You suddenly volunteered to crossdress for a prank that does not require crossdressing AGAIN. Also, give me that brush, I'll do your makeup because you suck ass at it."
3) WWX would frequently go on rants about how women are so much more beautiful than men, which flew under the radar as a "normal behavior for a lustful young man", but there was always something a little off about it. Like, WWX might say that women are so beautiful and perfect that everyone would choose to be one if allowed to pick before being born just to admire the gorgeous view, and JC might say, "I don't think that's quite right...?" But WWX would just say something like (like an obnoxious teenage sibling), "That's because you know that you'd make an ugly woman!" or, "Are you saying that women aren't perfect? Also, are you saying Shijie isn't the best person in the world?" And JC would have to be like, "I didn't say that! And I'd make a beautiful woman, fuck you! Also, how is that relevant to your point?"
By the end of this AU, there is at least one public love confession that is horribly embarrassing for everyone else to witness, in which Wei Wuxian has finally realized that LWJ used to be in love with "him" and that she loves LWJ back, but tearfully apologizes because she can't be the handsome man that LWJ loved anymore. Even if she could be a man again, she still doesn't want to stop being a woman, even if she's not very good at it yet. She can't perform the required husbandly duties like provide a good home for LWJ! She can't father LWJ's children anymore!
(Jiang Cheng: "Do you have to do this now?! Stop being indecent! There are children here. Also, we're all being held hostage.")
But it's all cool! Because shortly after realizing WWX was back and determined to live as a woman, LWJ speedran a sexuality crisis, flipped a mental switch, and essentially went, "I'm a lesbian now." (Or maybe LWJ was really confused about being attracted to WWX when they first met, because LWJ had only been physically attracted to her fellow female disciples up until then, so WWX seemed like the "exception", until WWX comes back from the dead as a woman and then it's like, "Ah. Not an exception after all.")
#transfem wei wuxian au#tossawary mdzs#wei wuxian#lan wangji#wangxian#mdzs genderbending au#fic ideas
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Hii can I request chuuya with a fem s/o who tried escaping from him but got into a car accident and got memory loss?
i assume you meant Yandere Chuuya so...
I know the so hospital thing isn't exactly how that works, they don't just release you immediately... But it was convenient towards this fic so....
Actually, nothing in this fic is canon irl (yes, I need to touch grass), but it's the magical world of ✨Chuuya✨ anyway
Warnings: blood, dead bodies, mentions of kidnapping, Yandere themes and anything else that comes in a Yandere fic.
Disclaimer: as great as yandere is in fanfiction it's important to remember this stuff is not romantic irl (unless it's Chuuya irl then he can do whatever he wants to me)
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"Who are you?" You tilt your head like a confused child at the short, red head before you.
"Y-you don't remember me?" His eyes widden in shock as he looks down at you lying in the hospital bed.
"um- well- look look familiar, I guess...? Sorry.." you stutter an apology. Chuuya sighs, figuring this might a perfect opportunity.
"You got hit by a car and have a amnesia! I'm your boyfriend, remember?" He pretends to be worried, but the excitement you could believe his lie is too good.
"My boyfriend...? How long have I known you?"
"A few years," he shrugs, pecking your lips. "You'll be realised from the hospital tomorrow, then we can go home!"
"But... I know where I live, if you're insinuating I live with you."
"You only recently moved in, I don't expect you to remember." He begins to lose his patience. You simply nod,
"Ok..." You give in, an eerie feeling nagging at you.
The next day, things go pretty smoothly. Chuuya takes you to his penthouse, where you realise a bunch of your stuff is there. Maybe you really did live with him... You explore his large penthouse, finding the place to be incredibly familiar, yet... You had an uncanny feeling in your gut, telling you to run, to get as far away as possible, and you wondered why. You're thoughts are interrupted as Chuuya hugs your waist from behind,
"Hey princess..." he kisses your neck. you giggle, finding yourself to actually be attracted to him.
"Oh! Speaking of which, where did I work? How much rent do I pay?" You ask, trying to rack your brain for where you could've worked to possibly help him afford such a nice place.
"You were a stay-at-home girlfriend."
"I can't imagine myself being a stay-at-home girlfriend..."
"You didn't cook or clean, I did, and will continue to do so."
"What?" You tilt your head in confusion, "What did I do then?"
"Be pretty." Chuuya shrugs. Your eyebrows furrow, completely dumbfounded.
"There's gotta be something I can do!" The short chihuahua (I'm not sorry) shakes his head, going back to kissing your neck. You squirm a little in his embrace. There's that gut feeling again, screaming at you to run.
You can barely remember your mom or dad, let alone your family. Every time you try to ask Chuuya, he dodges the question. You could vaguely remember where you lived before, but you don't remember the address or even the house number! You could barely remember anything, your so-called 'boyfriend', your family, some words, or even a lot of stuff about yourself! You desperately try to get information from Chuuya, but he won't do anything but beat around the bush. Eventually, you give up. You were bound to find out eventually... Right...?
As you look around the slightly familiar penthouse, you find a locked room, and there's a weird stench emitting from said area. The key to the room sits in the keyhole, almost begging to be opened.
"You know what they say, curiosity killed the cat..." You try to convince yourself it's a horrible idea. But then again, you live here... Shouldn't you know? The curiousity overwhelms you. With a slight turn if the key, you crack open the door, careful to be as quiet as possible. You close it softly behind you as to not alert Chuuya you could be in here, incase he doesn't want you around the room. Your eyes widden in horror and shock as you flip on the lights only to find the room covered in blood, bodies you recognise to be your mom and dad, and other familiar bodies you assume to be your family and friends are scattered throughout the room. All of them look recently beaten to death. Salty tears stream down your face, as you begin to gag at the sight. You swallow your puke, hoping to leave no evidence you were in here, after all, if he doesn't know you were in here then you can escape. You turn to exit the room, only to find Chuuya waiting on the other side of the door with a maniacal look.
"I was hoping to dispose of their bodies before you could discover them, but I guess it's too late." He sighs. You back away into the room, tripping on a body. You're left covered in blood as he approaches you. Fear engulfs your mind as you look for any other means of escape. Scurrying to your feet, you try to run out the door, only to have your body pressed to his.
"How cute, you're all panicked and covered in blood. Unfortunately I can't let you leave... I love you... I need you... You're mine..."
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd x you#bsd fluff#chuuya nakahara#chuuya x reader#bsd chuuya#yandere x reader#yandere#Yandere Chuuya x reader#Chuuya#yandere chuuya nakahara#chuuya nakahara x reader#chuuya nakahara bsd#chuuya nakahara x you#nakahara chuuya#bungo stray dogs#soukoku#Skk#Sskk#chuuya bsd#yandere chuuya
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The Key to Your Heart - Track 1
Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader
Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.
Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).
Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably.
Word Count: 1.9K
Series List: Here!
Thank you for checking it out :) let me know what you think. I made this probably more wordy and personal than I should've... OOF.
The clock was nearing 4 AM when, with a sniffle, you closed the app you were on and clicked the power button on your phone. A single tear ran down your face as you rolled on your side and hoped that maybe in your dreams you could experience the love you craved so desperately. For the past few hours, and every night you didn't have work in the morning, or had free time before bed, you would read fanfiction. You knew people had a lot of poor opinions about fanfic, but the best thing about them is that unlike other stories, you were in these. You could imagine it was you in the story spending time with your favorite characters.
The worst part of fanfiction, however… is when you realize it isn't real and won't ever happen. Sure, you can imagine it, and you can feel the emotions and even give yourself pleasure at the thoughts, but when it wears off, you realize that it's just you. You're alone, and not your mind, nor your hands, can give you what you truly want. What you need.
You aren't so dumb or delusional as to think it's real, or to think you have a chance. If your own mind didn't tell you that enough, your family and friends would remind you plenty. At the mention of your crush, you'd get comments that had a playfulness, or childlike connotation at the idea of you crushing on someone famous. If not that, you'd get pity, or told you should put yourself out there and find someone you actually have a chance with… as if you chose to have these feelings. Why would you choose to fall in love with someone you have no chance with?
For a while, you could pretend it was just a crush and that you couldn't be in love with someone you've never met. But ultimately you accepted that it wasn't true. This isn't the first time, and you're sure it won't be the last. With the previous crush lasting several years, you knew you'd just have to wait it out.
This time around, the crush was on Pedro Pascal. Current heartthrob of the world, starring in some of the most popular franchises of the time. If people didn't know his name, they certainly knew a character of his; unless they lived under a rock.
With this information in the back of your mind, the fact that everyone knew him and everyone loved him and he could have anyone he wanted, you sighed, hoping it would finally get through your head, and rolled over to your other side. Unable to sleep, you pulled out your journal to write down your feelings before eventually drifting off, pen in hand.
Letting out a groan, you awoke too few hours later to your dog Skipper crying in your face. "Gotta pee, buddy? Alright.." You climbed out of bed and he spun in a circle before galloping through the house towards the patio door. Humming a song you don't yet know, you sit by the door and think about what you wrote the night before. It wasn't uncommon for you to write songs, and you found it comforting to play instruments and sing your feelings out into the lyrics. Although you often recorded and purchased the copyrights to your music, you never posted it. Maybe someday…you always told yourself, pondering with the idea of some extra money.
After letting the dog in, you sat at the piano with last night's journal and wrote a song which spilled your feelings for Pedro. You recorded it and went about your day, but it kept nagging you. Finally, after another sleepless night, you posted it onto some music streaming websites. Using a stage name of just your first nickname, you added the song, which you titled "Imaginary Love." It never mentions Pedro by name, only talking of the strong feelings you have for someone famous that you'll never be with.
Once that was out of the way, you didn't check your accounts for several days. Eventually, however, you began receiving emails. Radio stations wanted to play your song, record companies wanted to sign you, they wanted an album. Your head swirled, and you agreed to put out an album with other songs you've written, still maintaining your stage identity. I'll just be like Hannah Montana, you thought, with a laugh of disbelief.
About a month later, you and your music were still a mystery to people. People loved your song. People related to it. But of course, there were critics. Negative impressions spurred about you being childish, immature, naive, and silly. Others just wanted to know the gossip. Who were you? Where did you come from? And WHO were you singing about?!
Trying to ignore the chatter, you noticed a new interview of Pedro being posted, as advertisement for his newest film. Finally something to look forward to and get your mind off of this! Flicking on your television, you broadcast the interview of Pedro from your cell phone. Your heart skipped as you looked at him, his messy brown curls falling near his ears that held his large black framed glasses. His brown eyes twinkled as the interviewer talked to him about his work.
Eventually they broke into more casual conversation, discussing current favorite movies, what he last saw in theaters, what he's binge-watching, last concert he saw, and finally… the current song he can't stop listening to.
"Oh, man… I can't stop listening to "Imaginary Love," he answered without hesitation, hand on his heart.
Your stomach lurched. Your heart stopped. You forgot how to breathe. What. The. Fuck. Shit shit shit shit shit. This can't. Be real. You rewound the video. This HAS to be a dream. But it wasn't. "Imaginary Love," he said. Oh. Crap. You replayed it several more times, but it didn't make it more real. The interviewer replied "oh… here we go. The song everyone is talking about! I am curious though, what are your thoughts on it? Who do you think it's about?" Pedro's smile faltered a bit at the man's tone, but he remained his usual genuine, sincere self when he answered. "I… I'm also curious about who she is and who the song is about, but I think that ultimately it's up to her whether she decides to reveal that. I think we can all relate to the pain of love, especially unrequited, and I think it's brave of her to share that level of open vulnerability with the world. I can't expect her to share more than what she already has."
Your heart fluttered.
Yet the interviewer continued. "Don't you think it's a little… I dunno… naive? I mean, you get it, you're in show business. The average kid really doesn't have a chance, and even more so, isn't it a little… creepy? The way she's put this guy on a pedestal? Claims she's in love with a man she doesn't even know?"
Pedro's fingers twitched around the base of the microphone, his eyebrows furrowed, and he slowly nodded while pondering his response. I can't watch this anymore.. His pause felt like a lifetime, and you couldn't handle the tension. The interviewer was an ass, but his words were nothing new. He was probably right... You are creepy and naive. You reached for the remote to turn off the television. It had only been a few seconds, but you couldn't bear the potential heartbreak that you knew would come. This is exactly why you haven't revealed yourself or the subject of your lyrics.
Pedro cleared his throat before speaking. "You're right… I am in show business and I get it. I get that in order to get what you truly want in life, we all seem a bit naive. I've spent my life trying to make it as an actor, sometimes struggling if it hadn't been for the help of my friends. I was naive, and I suppose a bit delusional. Obviously this is a bit different though. Unlike jobs, we can't choose who we love. I think we've all had celebrity crushes at some point in our lives."
Your breath was caught in your throat and you could feel tears welling up in your eyes. He doesn't even know you, and he's somehow able to reach into your lyrics to understand exactly how you feel without the judgment or pity you often feel from those who know you personally. And yet… the asshole interviewer kept on. Seriously dude… how long are you going to drag this on? Talk to Pedro about his achievements. Quit ranting. The interview has completely gone off the rails. "Okay.. I gotta ask though.." Ugh what now??! He continued, "this girl is a fan. The only thing she knows is what's made public. She's keeping her identity hidden but doesn’t seem to wonder what her so-called “love” is hiding from the world. Would you, as a celebrity, genuinely consider someone like her, a fan, if she came out and said the song was about you? I mean, would any of you out there? We're not just talking about a normal person, or even a slight fan. We're talking write-a-song-about-him level obsessed."
Pedro answered without hesitation. "Sure I would consider it. You can already feel her emotional vulnerability and passion. I think she's deserving of happiness just like anyone." If only you knew.. It is you, Pedro.. But your negative thoughts filled your consciousness. Like he'd want you.. he's almost twice your age.. look at yourself. He can have anyone he wants. He'd never actually choose you. Look at your blemishes. Your big stomach, flab, and stretch marks. Nobody has ever wanted you. You've never even been kissed, you fool. A grown adult.
You frowned and finished watching the interview, swept away in your self-hatred. You slunk onto the floor, cuddling your dog, seeking the only comfort you're able to receive. This is why I prefer animals, you think. They love you no matter what you look like or who you are.
A few days later, the events of Pedro's interview went viral, spurring both negative and positive responses.
"Pedro Pascal Defends Unknown Artist"
"Mandalorian Actor Slams Interviewer"
"Watch: Pedro Pascal Interview Gets Heated"
The headlines get more and more dramatic, acting as if fist fights broke out or a gun battle ensued. It was all pretty tame. A simple conversation of differing opinions. However… you still couldn't help but feel guilty that he put his own reputation on the line for you in a way. He doesn't even know you. What was in this for him, that he felt the need to defend you?
It was at this moment that you decided to log into Instagram from your stage artist profile. Hopping into the message section, you typed out Pedro Pascal and clicked his profile, writing out a message. "Hi Mr. Pascal! I recently watched your interview and I can't begin to express my gratitude towards you. I feel terribly guilty that this is beginning to weigh on your own image, but I would like to say thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for your defense, thank you for your support of my music, but most importantly, thank you for seeing my lyrics as they were meant to be… from my heart. Thank you for your kindness."
You tapped send and waited with bated breath. After ten minutes of staring at the screen, you decided you needed a break from the internet, dropped your phone, and went for a walk with Skipper.
Meanwhile, from the couch at home, your phone lit up with a notification.
Instagram
Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk): replied to your message
Thanks for reading!! Interested in track 2? Read it here!
#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#rpf#pedro pascal rpf#pedro pascal x AFAB!reader#Pedro pascal x musician!reader#pedro pascal x plus-sized! reader#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fic#A! wrote a fic#key to your heart
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Scalding, unnecessary take that I'm going to use as an excuse to yap about my hyperfixation characters more than anything, but El's character is actually impossible to stick into coffee shop fanfiction No Supernatural Shit AUs. That's Jane you're writing about. Jane and El are not the same person. At all. And like, Jane is interesting to think about, don't get me wrong. I have thought about Jane. I love Jane. She's adorable and vaguely autistic. But Jane != Eleven.
Eleven is the way she is almost entirely because of her experience/trauma of growing up in the lab and having supernatural murder powers. Her main characters traits are being a self-sacrificing hero and not being sure who she is due to the fact she grew up in an isolated sterile inhuman environment. Unless you're directly translating those things into something unsupernatural (like growing up in a fucked up cult or something and like fighting her way out and now she'll fight to protect other people from similar experiences or something idk) you're writing about Jane the normal gorl who got to grow up with a normal personality in a normal world. And like, you can do that. It's fine it's fandom do whatever u want. But personally, the first thing I come up with when I birth an AU is what crazy powers and fucked up backstory we give Eleven here. Also how do we make her and everyone else really fucking cool but that...might be beside the point idk.
The powers have to basically ruin or have had ruined her life at one point. They have to be a curse that she either reclaims or gets rid of at the end. If she isn't tortured she isn't Eleven Stranger Things lmao
And then yeah yeah my next step is to figure out how Mike AND THE OTHERS OK but mostly Mike get involved in this. Which brings me to my next point: Jane and Mike have no real reason to talk to each other. Mike x Jane is just Normal Gorl x Normal Boy which is like, fine sure if that's what you want, but also you kinda just erased everything interesting about their dynamic. You wanna know what makes El and Mike's relationship so compelling? Objectively? I'm objectively right about everything I'm about to say here? Ok their dynamic is this: Eleven is the most important person in the world, and Mike is the only boy who will ever love her. And yeah that second one sounds really sad but 1. yeah it kinda is :) 2. its not really true that's just what El thinks which is like a major theme for her character TO ME, her underestimating how 'normal' she is esp in her later years 3. it also is kinda true because he's the only boy romantically interested in her who actually understands and experienced all the supernatural/lab trauma bullshit and is actively fighting beside her through the plot of the show, and 4. he's literally perfect and also the only boy she'll ever love and need so it all works out.
And to explain the first one, I mean, you know she's saved the world twice right? She kinda literally is the most important person in the world considering its up to her to stop the apocalypse probably in the end? But its not the being important exactly that makes Mike love her ok, that's more of a meta character thing. Like she doesn't have to literally be the key to saving the world and the most powerful being in the universe. Its more that she has to have something really special about her that draws Mike specifically to her and binds him to her permanently and inseparably and he belongs to her forever and ever and they die in each other's arms. Like she deserves. In canon I imagine objectively and correctly that it went like this: Mike is a natural outcast collector and protector due to his pervasive unconscious need to be needed and his fear of losing the few people who like him, who meets the ultimate outcast girl who literally has nothing and needs him in a very real way, and this gives him an excuse to just pour his entire self into her, fulfilling one of his deepest interpersonal needs. The best part is that she's super selfless and amazing and she loves him the same right back so its actually a beautiful thing they get going. Basically the idea of being anything less than perfect for her is so sad and horrible due to how fucked her life was that it drives the already caretaking Mike into overdrive to make her happy. Not at the cost of him still being an individual person, mind you. But that's the vibe. Also let me just say, all the self-sacrificing vibes and obsession and desperation can become toxic under certain circumstances and that is absolutely a feature not a bug. Sorry you don't like watching your faves yell at each other but we are not the same.
Anyway what the fuck was I talking about? AUs? Yeah ok so when translating Mike (AND THE OTHERS...and the others) into other stories there's more flexibility u kno because he's mostly just Some Guy. He really just needs (TO ME) an excuse to be fighting with Eleven (she has to be fighting something with the powers I know you gave her). He shouldn't be directly involved with whatever gave her the powers but he should generally know of and be somewhat affected by it. Or become aware of it/involved with it over time. Like in the show. You get it. Honestly his only real consistent character traits are being kinda moody and being the leader of the party in whatever vague or not way. And being intelligent. Like he has to be leader for a reason. I guess that's a decent base for a character right there.
oh right side note: you have to do something fun with her name. like she was basically branded Eleven by the freak that gave her the powers so u gotta take that energy and translate it into another branded name that has el in it because she needs to get the nickname ofc. unless its a cyberpunk au in which case Eleven is a pretty normal name and she can just go by that lmao.
So the point ig is Jane and Mike break up when they go away to different colleges and don't talk to each other again until their next high school reunion, while Mike and Eleven are...well you should know by now.
#this is truly me rambling to myself but ig that's why we're here right#yes i want to discuss mike and eleven's characters more#yes its exhausting writing shit#yes u can ask questions/talk about ur own AUs or whatever#blah blah engage with me or don't ig#one like and i list my AUs tho#if i feel like it#ig ill tag this#mileven#not like theres anything else in the tag rn hahaha
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Lunatic Pudding🍮
✨Based on the Lunatic Pudding devilgram. The reader is she/her but can be read as gn (sorry I’m not too good at gn yet) This is purely self indulgent, like any good dessert involving fanfiction should be, so I hope you enjoy!✨
🍮Diavolo x y/n, Diavolo x reader, Diavolo x Mc, daddy kink, wings and horns erotically, possessiveness but MC likes it, classic Diavolo whose a sweet puppy until he gets to f*ck you and becomes a roaring beast, monster f*cking and we love it. Also I’m censoring f*ck becuz I’ve had some issues posting stuff like this in the past but censoring seems to clear it up.🍮
“I’d like to see you all lovey dovey” MC teases Diavolo, the lunatic pudding’s effects seeming to be no match for the future king.
“Is that meant to tempt me?” He chuckles happily “how very naughty of you.”
The way he says is innocent enough, a tease with the most platonic of intentions but MC is surprised when her heart sinks a bit hearing it.
“I am not unaffected” he says quietly as she sit next to him. “But it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of you like that. You deserve better”
The words touch her heart and before she can really think she says “I’d be the one taking advantage of you wouldn’t I? I mean you’re the one affected by it.”
He looks at her as if deep in thought. The eye contact almost painful but she can’t tear hers away from his golden stare.
His voice is quiet now as he says “The affects of the pudding is not the first time I have desired you. Nor will it be the last”
His honesty shocks and excites her.
“You have desired me too?” She asks.
A smirk plays at his lips and she isn’t sure until she realizes the gravity of what she’s confessed. A boldness fills her as she sees a blush tinge the prince’s face ever so slightly.
“Yes, I have too” he smiles and she doesn’t miss the way he licks his lips or how his eyes fall to her lips.
“Tell me” she blurts out, the heat of the moment giving her courage. “Tell me how you’ve desired me”
The silence after her command makes her want to run. She just made a demand of the Prince! The future king of devildom!
However before her thoughts can consume her, Diavolo looks up at her. She sees the lust in his eyes. It appears he’s allowing the affects of the pudding to give him courage.
“I have imagined you in so many ways” he whispers, looking at the ground “coming to the castle in the dead of night, sneaking into my room begging for me.”
She feels foolish but she can do nothing but listen, hanging on every word as if it were the key to her life.
“Taking you over my desk. Forcing those brothers to hear your screams of pleasure as I am the one to have you”
He calms, no doubt the affects bringing out the more possessive side of him. He then looks back to her, almost as if he’s ready for her to scream at him, tell him he’s awful but….she can feel that pleasant tingle begin to start.
“More” she whispers “tell me more”
As the worlds leave her lips, the tension thickens. It’s then he notices the desire in her eyes. The way her breaths seem to be coming in ragged and her lips are parted ever so slightly.
This seemed to be the confidence boost he needed.
“When I fed you the pudding in my office, it’s not the pudding I wished to place in your mouth and watch you lick.”
He didn’t need to say anymore. Before she could even process what was happening she had surged forward taking his head in her hands and pressing her lips to his.
A feral growl emitted from him and he wrapped one arm around her, pulling her up from where they sat and walking them to his bed.
He all but threw her onto the bed and began removing his clothes as he stood above her, watching her with hungry eyes.
She silently thanked Asmo for convincing her to wear a dress today. It was easily discarded along with her undergarments.
He was back on her, body hovering over hers as he kissed her once more.
“I want you, tonight, do you want me?” He asked, “tell me what you want little one”
She moaned at the nickname. “I want you to f*ck me, f*ck me daddy please”
Diavolo groaned sinfully loud at the nickname she gave him. The effects of the pudding all taking control over him, he strips his body bare and returns to lavish her body with his tongue.
However, it wasn’t until he slid easily into her wetness, listening to her gasp and feeling an animalistic growl rumble in his chest, that he asked her to say it again.
“Say it again, little one, please” he begged as he f*cked into her slowly so she could get used to his size.
She’d become a moaning mess in his bed, all sense of shame or modesty stripped from her as though they were a simple piece of clothing she wore.
He’d made a request of her though and she wanted to do nothing more than oblige his every whim.
“F*ck me daddy….please…. I need you….please”
Encouraged by her pleases he roared like a true beasts and suddenly he was naked in his demon form. Wings spread behind him and horns grown.
She should have been horrified but all she could feel was aroused. The sight of him made her clench.
He could feel her do so and a cocky smile drew across his lips.
“You like my true form, princess?”
Nodding aggressively as he continued to slam into her she reached up and ran her fingers across the soft part of his wings. His body shivered and he groaned as she did.
Before she could pull her hand back he groaned “again, please”
And both her hands came up this time, one brushing his wings and the other sliding her fingers up his horns.
He roared once again “f*ck that feels good”
Feeling bolder than she should have she reached up, yanked his horns down to her face and licked up one of them.
The sensations had Diavolo’s grip tighten, surely leaving bruises, and pushed him over the edge. He came hard inside her wet heat.
The feeling of his cock pulsing inside her, the sight of him looking so aroused and the friction of his pelvis on her clit was enough to send her over the edge a few seconds later, blinding white light searing her vision as she came.
Diavolo lay sheathed inside her as they both tried to catch their breath, his arms resting on either side of her shoulders and his wings twitching.
After a few moments, Diavolo grabbed her face and kissed her.
“You are mine now, princess” he whispered to her lips “and I am yours.”
“Yes” she agreed almost breathlessly “I’m yours. You’re mine”
He smiled triumphantly. “Good girl”
#diavolo prince of hell#omswd diavolo#obey me! diavolo#diavolo x y/n#lord diavolo#diavolo smut#diavolo x reader#obey me!#obmswd#diavolo x Mc
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Adagio ovvero Largo. - A kinky Hannigram fanfic
Hi!
I'm Fanfaron, and I'm completely new to both the world of Tumblr, and the world of fanfiction.
I woke up a few days ago with just a burning passion to write something after having binged all of Hannibal whilst I worked on my latest cross-stitch project.
I hadn't written fiction in nearly two decades (and I don't read anymore, books nor fanfiction), and I used to struggle to pass even two paragraphs, so I was very surprised when I found myself spending an entire day feverishly writing this 6000-word homoerotic romp.
I've heard that Tumblr is the place to go if you want to engage with fandoms, and as an official Old Person I feel quite out of my depth, but I figured I'd give it a go.
I've also noticed that a lot of fanfiction writers for gay content tend to be cis women, and whilst they are absolutely talented and wonderful (I saw a couple of fics that were intensely steamy), I hope that my experiences as a certified queer boy might be a welcome addition to the scene.
I'm going to pop the entire first chapter here, and going forward I'll be adding new chapters on my (shiny new) AO3 account, and I'll update here as they go live.
You can find that here!
I would absolutely love feedback, thanks ever so much in advance.
This fanfiction is intended for Mature, Adult readers only.
Content Warnings: Power imbalance, therapist/patient relationship, suggestion of manipulation, sadomasochism, light blood letting, impact play
Adagio ovvero Largo.
Chapter One - Composition
The clock on the wall acted as a metronome, the rhythmic tick, tick, tocking of the second hand creating a reliable constant as swathes of notes streamed out amidst the mind of the man striding elegantly across his office. With each step, more imagined twangs of a mental harpsichord spilled forth from his inner recesses, relishing in past compositions whilst beginning anew with a natural ease akin to breathing.
Dr Hannibal Lecter was not only a connoisseur of fine music; it ran underneath his very skin, unseen. Between the layers of dermis and muscle lies pitch, tone and chord. The blood within his veins created a coloratura as it spread across every inch of his body, a crescendo of sanguine liquid flowing into his heart and syphoning back out into the body that lightly swayed as it travelled across grey wooden floors.
The arts provided him with a stillness, a calming lull of sweetness that filled his soul, and his belly. In moments of waiting, that fullness was enough to satiate his hunger for more unconventional cuisines. Such a craving was of course inevitable, but he was well versed in finding other ways to seek mediary satisfaction.
His slender fingers stretched out by his sides as he meandered across his broad, tastefully decorated office, fingertips lifting and dipping with each note that played out behind his eyes, his digits moving in perfect measure as though to truly caress the ivory keys.
As his ring finger began to press down to strike another mental chime, a sharp knock at the door rang through his skull and the music was brought to an abrupt silence. The first knock was met with a second, more hesitant dull thud, as though the person who stood behind the door was taken aback by their own sound. Hannibal immediately knew who possessed such a second guessing nature.
“Come in, Will.” His own low, precisely measured voice broke the silence this time, as he made his way over to his desk, leaning back against the solid frame.
The door opened, revealing the smaller-framed man that was FBI profiler Will Graham, an air of apprehension practically radiating off of his body and into the stillness of the confined space of Dr Lecter’s office. He pressed his back against the door, closing it with his physique, his eyes only briefly flitting to glance at his duty-bound therapist.
“You knew it was me,” he mumbled simply, “I know that this isn’t our... allotted time.” Dark curls of hair fell over his glasses as he looked down at the floor, his skin pale and adorned with beads of perspiration. He was dishevelled, at least more so than usual.
“I suppose I have a knack for prediction,” Hannibal replied with a hint of a smile, “And you know that you are always welcome, Will. I was not otherwise engaged.”
A ragged sigh spilled from Will’s lips as he stepped towards one of the two dark leather armchairs, looking almost as though his knees would buckle as he firmly grasped the back of the chair, his knuckles briefly turning white as he squeezed the material. “I… lost time again. I feel as though my own memories are being ripped straight out of my head.”
“Where did you find yourself?” the older man asked, hoisting himself forward from his desk to join the panicked fawn before him, smoothing out his dusky blue plaid jacket as he lowered himself into the other chair.
“...Here.” There was a bitter resentment in Will’s response, his voice breathy and his face contorted as it escaped his mouth. “I was outside the building, but I don’t know… I don’t remember how I got here.”
“Perhaps your subconscious is trying to protect you, and take you to where you need to be. A safe place.” Hannibal extended his palm, inviting Will to join him, who did so with a visibly shaky reluctance as he sank into the chair opposite.
“Is this a safe place, Dr Lecter?” Will finally raised his eyes to meet the good Doctor’s. Though now both perched on the same level, he both looked and felt infinitely smaller in his seat, his wrinkled shirt stained with dark patches of sweat that made him look strangely sunken.
Hannibal didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a moment to search Will’s eyes for more information. The blues of his irises seemed almost stormy, dulled with anxiety and uncertainty. He glanced away, aware that staring can cause a more vulnerable animal to bolt, before responding, “If that is what you need it to be, yes.”
Will’s eyes narrowed, distrusting, as he began to pick at his nails, his breath still unsteady. “So it’s not always safe, then.”
“It is what the patient needs it to be, Will. Do you perhaps think that you thrive better in an environment fraught with danger?” This time Hannibal’s eyes were unwavering, boring into Will’s with this question. If Will was going to withdraw his trust, Hannibal was going to be less inclined to a gentle approach.
“You’d probably think so, wouldn’t you,” Will almost laughed, but there was no humour in his tone. He tried to hold the other man’s gaze, becoming aware that behind his professional demeanour was an impending sense of a predator considering its prey. “That seems to be all life is these days. Danger. Are you dangerous, Dr Lecter?”
The smirk that curled up against Hannibal’s lips was an undisciplined response, but not one he tried to disguise immediately. Instead he rose from his chair and approached the rather traumatised, younger man, stepping behind him so that he could observe, but not be observed.
“We all possess the capacity for malevolence, Will,” he replied softly, looking down at the paltry shape of a man before him. His eyes drew across his shoulders, hunched and pathetic, his unkempt hair that glistened with panicked sweat from his sleep walking, and finally his gaze landed upon the nape of his neck.
“Y-yes, well, I’d rather not be exposed to it, if it’s all the same,” Will contested from his seat, shifting uncomfortably as he felt Hannibal’s eyes burning into him from behind.
Burn they did, as he studied the small patches of skin between hair and shirt, glimpses of naked flesh he could not ignore. Hannibal had known for some time now that Will Graham was not an adversary, nor a patient, nor quite a meal. But rather he was the other side to his coin, something to consume that would make him whole.
He placed a hand gingerly upon Will’s shoulder, causing the man to flinch instinctively, but he kept it rested there. “I assure you, you are safe here.” With a mischievous glimmer in his eyes of which the younger man was none the wiser, Hannibal leaned in to place his lips beside Will’s ear, where he continued in a hushed purr, “Unless you do not want to be.”
The prey had been startled, the fawn had bucked, and Will Graham unceremoniously launched himself out of his seat, his knees colliding with the ground before clumsily pushing himself off of the floor. He swung around, staring at Hannibal with wide, wild eyes. He held a hand tightly to his ear, gripping it as though wounded.
“One would think I had just bitten you,” Hannibal murmured, his voice dripping with beguiling satisfaction as Will glared at him through a haze of red-cheeked embarrassment and rage. “Of course, that could be arranged.”
“What are you doing!?” Will sputtered, surprising even himself with how his voice cracked as it left his lips, but then his tone lowered and emitted an unmistakable sense of having been the victim of betrayal. “Am I not suffering enough for you?”
Hannibal stretched into a standing position from where he had been leaning, his long limbs looking almost feline. Once again he neatened his suit, and his russet eyes landed upon his prey with a hint of arrogance. “Do you not relish suffering? You almost seem to seek it out, do you not?”
“I do not!” Will snapped, his voice raising with very little self control. He folded his arms across his torso in an attempt to disguise the quiver rising in his fingers, determined to hold his ground despite the disorientation that brought him into this situation.
“Then release yourself from it.” Hannibal’s voice spilled forth with a darker tone, a suggestion of a dare. He began to make his way towards Will, who stepped backwards at equal pace. “Take control of your suffering and release yourself, or stop fighting it and accept who you are.”
“I don’t—” Will’s words were interrupted by the collision of a bookcase against his back, radiating through to his chest and stealing his voice. His eyes glanced around wildly as if to find a way to escape, but before he could even think he was being stared down.
“You revel in pain.” This last word was punctuated by the thud of Hannibal’s palm thrusting against the thick spine of a book beside Will’s head. “Whether that’s taking a life, or inviting others to bring harm to your door. Or perhaps turning up at their door.”
The shorter man avoided the heat of a gaze upon him, eye contact felt unnecessary at the best of times but this was downright invasive. “...Is that your professional opinion, Doctor?” Panicked or not, he would not be outdone.
“It is a personal one,” Hannibal responded frankly, his shadow cast over the other man, causing any reflection in his glasses to vanish and give a clear glimpse of the thick lashes covering the eyes refusing to look back at him.
“Your personal opinion…” Will began, his breath stuttering, their closeness now bringing a sense of claustrophobia that seemed to steal the very air from his lungs. “...Is that I want you to-... hurt me?” It was as though the word ‘hurt’ had to be forcibly wrenched from his tender insides, carrying a strange weight of perversion.
Hannibal leaned in and lowered his lips to Will’s ear once more, taking delight in the way that his body stiffened as he braced himself for the hot breath soon to be tickling his flesh, already tinged pink with a rush of blood. “...Don’t you?”
Will’s breath caught in his gullet as his face seared with embarrassment and confusion. His abdomen was a mess of knotted organs, a dull aching sickness rising to his sternum with a peculiar sense of guilt. “I don’t-...” He furrowed his eyebrows, struggling to phrase his reply. “I’ve never considered it.”
A deep inhalation through his nostrils caused Hannibal’s eyelids to flutter closed. Top notes of the lingering remnants of a familiar, unsuitably cheap aftershave. Fighting to overtake that scent were the salty middle notes of apprehension, the fragrance of a cold sweat from a frightful awakening. Finally, base notes of what can only be described as irrefutably Will Graham; musky beech trees, the faintest hint of a tulip poplar, and a not entirely unpleasant whiff of wet dog.
“Are you considering it now?” He dipped his face ever so slightly as he spoke in a deliberately soft and slow inflection, his mouth passing Will’s earlobe, the tip of his nose brushing across a layer of stubble, for which he was rewarded a small jolt of Will’s frame. He allowed the combination of earthy scents to fill his lungs, as his lips hovered below an enticing jawline.
Will frowned, unable to comprehend exactly how he was to approach this situation. He was caught in a bear trap, but curiosity halted his desire to flee. He had his suspicions about Dr Lecter’s decorum behind closed doors, and he certainly expected a degree of unorthodox psychiatric practices, but this was something even his deeply rooted empathy could not have foreseen.
Then there was the unexpected closeness of this man he had been having deeply intimate, professional conversations with, who had witnessed some of his nethermost insecurities and traumas. Physical contact was not on his list of priorities, let alone a communion which not only flushed his skin and caused his heartbeat to echo against his eardrums, but also carried an underlying current of saccharine sadism.
“...I don’t think I have much choice, do I? You’ve planted the idea in my head. Probably not a first for you.” His voice was calmer; he could feel a part of his psyche giving in to defeat, a faint hint of submission.
“There’s always a choice, Will.” Hannibal drew back to meet Will face to face. He knew that if things were to proceed in his favour that this was a point that was crucial to communicate, even if in his mind autonomy was not truly in Will’s hands, but his own. “You can choose to leave, our impromptu night session drawn to an end. Or you can stay, and consider my words further.”
“It’s your actions that I’m worried about,” Will muttered, reaching up to rub his temple, only to be reminded of his glasses. He pulled them from behind his ears, massaging the side of his forehead with one hand, as though to soothe himself.
“May I?” Hannibal reached out a hand towards Will’s glasses, and although a tad perplexed he handed them over without question. Hannibal travelled over to his desk, placing the glasses down neatly upon the mahogany surface.
This allowed Will a moment of reprieve and he took several deep breaths, finally able to free his back from being pressed up against a rigid wooden column, and no longer trapped under excruciatingly close contact.
“So, there’s the door. What will your choice be?” Hannibal spun on his heel, standing by his desk so that there was now a clear path from Will to the door. He extended an offer of freedom and self-determination, yet the confidence ringing in his voice suggested a predetermined outcome.
Will did not respond. He simply stood, thoughts racing, studying the handsome Lithuanian. He felt as though his feet were glued to the floor, torn between self preservation and painfully alluring morbid curiosity. Ultimately an out was provided, and he simply did not take it.
“Well then,” Hannibal continued, after allowing Will some time to fester on the spot. He carefully removed his jacket before laying it delicately across the desk, then moved to unbutton and remove his waistcoat. “Take off your shirt.”
“Sorry- what?” Will stumbled over his words, eyes frantic as he watched Hannibal begin to remove his cufflinks and roll his white sleeves up towards his elbows. “Wait, I didn’t-, I’m not—”
“I’m not going to fuck you, Will.” Blunt, to the point, and stated without even looking at the wounded creature stuttering across the room, Hannibal instead focused on pulling at and tidying his sleeves in place, ensuring his forearms would be comfortable for the acts to come.
Will stared, dumbfounded. Those were not words he was expecting to hear that day, let alone from Dr Hannibal Lector. Blood rushed to his face, a bizarre concoction of emotions flooding his brain. There was a twinge of excitement at the unexpected imagery that he tried to shoo away, followed by an even more unexpected sense of indignation; he couldn’t help but take offence on some level.
“Will. Your shirt,” Hannibal repeated, noticing that Will had yet to react to his instructions. “Unless you require some assistance.”
“No, no, I got it.” Feeling a little lost, Will simply began to follow instructions, and unbuttoned his shirt. As he began to remove the garment he realised just how much he had recovered from his earlier panic, the air feeling cold against his skin from where it had been slick with sweat, causing goosebumps to prickle up across his arms and chest, fine hairs standing on end.
“Good. Now, face the wall.” Another instruction delivered curtly.
Will raised an eyebrow as if to ask, ‘excuse me, come again?’ but he said nothing, just staring for a moment with his mouth slightly agape, before turning slowly and moving towards the wall beside the bookcase, his shirt still gripped tightly in one hand.
The sound of footsteps alerted him as he stared at the wine coloured wall before him, and a sense of dread began to overtake any sense of composure he had regained. A hand reached around from behind him, startling him into a small jump, as Hannibal took his shirt from his grasp and disappeared from his side.
He heard the soft slide and click of a drawer being opened and closed, before Hannibal’s voice penetrated his mind with yet more instructions. “Place your hands up against the wall.”
It was beginning to feel like some sort of ludicrous police arrest role play, a parody of what he had witnessed so many times now, but Will did as he was told, feeling as though he had come too far to back down now. He planted his hands up against the cold paint, experiencing some small reassurance in his chest no longer being exposed, but that sense of security would be short-lived.
First he heard the sound of Hannibal’s shoes on the hardwood floor behind him once more, then he recognised the presence of the taller man looming over his figure. He expected more instructions, but instead what he received was a perplexing epiphany.
Leaning in close enough for his lips to now make direct contact with Will’s ear, moving beyond the tease of breath and instead sending a small bolt of electricity that penetrated his flesh and punctured his spine, Hannibal softly whispered a simple praise, “Good boy.”
A gasp stifled its way out of Will’s diaphragm and for a split second his knees threatened to give way beneath him, a hand momentarily shifting against the wall. In a heartbeat his breathing became laboured, the air knocked out of him by two words. He was thankful that Hannibal could not see his face, a mix of bewilderment and thrill.
Hannibal was equally grateful that the grin spreading across his lips would not be shared with his prey. He inhaled deeply against Will’s skin, a faint dizziness dancing across his forehead as he detected the subtlety of a new, growing bouquet. Arousal.
“Do you know what vampire gloves are, Will?” He broke the silence, hoping to deceive that he had not sensed Will’s reaction to his words.
“...No,” Will replied weakly, trying to regain composure, praying that the wall would either somehow support him or crumble beneath his grip and provide escape.
“Then let us test your senses, and see if you can describe to me what you believe you are feeling.” Hannibal continued to speak in a tone that hardly differed from that of what Will would hear during their sessions, but now affording him an entirely new form of trepidation.
Will jumped immediately at the first sensation, struggling to keep his hands in place. It was as though a hundred cold needles were being pressed into his shoulder blade. Not painful, the pressure was light, but unusual enough to take him by surprise. He felt the series of needles being towed across his skin, down along the left side of his back at a cruelly lethargic speed.
“...Spikes?” he asked with a pondering hesitation.
“Yes, good. A leather glove, the fingers of which have been pierced from within with many tiny, metal spikes, like a chorus of vampire fangs,” Hannibal explained matter-of-factly, continuing to stroke his gloved hand along the left side of Will’s back from top to bottom, occasionally running a sharp finger along the nape of his neck, causing small sighs to erupt from between his lips.
The rhythmic stroking was not at all unpleasant, but rather began to lull Will into an almost sleepy haze, the gentle scratches along his skin making his muscles glow with a soft warmth. It felt almost as if he was being petted, and each time a finger approached his neck or the small of his back he found himself instinctively flexing into the sensation.
“They have the ability to tease…” Hannibal’s voice drew quieter as he focused on his actions, his eyes tracing the small red lines created by his glove. He brought himself closer to the man’s blushing back, replacing the glove this time with his mouth, planting a chaste kiss that charred with the heat radiating from the base of Will’s neck.
Just as he was rewarded with a surprised gasp from the other man, he continued, “...And to torture.” With this he moved his gloved hand to the right side of Will’s back, planted it upon his scapula, and dug firmly into the flesh of his shoulder.
A pained moan emitted from below him, but Hannibal did not relent. Will instinctively writhed, his back contorting to flee the assault, small gasps and pained sounds pouring from him, but still Hannibal held firm. He placed his bare hand against Will’s upon the wall, though it was not clear if this was to support him or to trap him.
“Dr L-Lector—” Will choked, feeling the surprise of tears pricking the corners of his eyes, struggling to keep his posture upright as the man’s hand pushed harder into his skin.
“Endure it,” Hannibal practically growled in Will’s ear, a feverish tone domineering over his usual calm demeanour, his fingers now intertwining with Will’s against the wall. “Endure,” he repeated, before dragging his gloved hand down along Will’s back, from the shoulder blade and further along the pale landscape of flesh, a brief moment feeling like an eternity as gasps and whimpers filled the office.
His hand stopped above Will’s hip, but he did not withdraw. Instead he began to dig into this new patch of virgin territory, squeezing at the small amount of fat tissue beneath the skin. All the while the thin, needle-sized trails from his shoulder blade began to bead with droplets of blood, a stream of budding lines swelling and rising, his skin growing redder with every passing second.
Finally, Hannibal released his grasp, and the sound that escaped Will was one he didn’t recognise, a strained moan he had never heard uttered from his own mouth before. His breathing was quick and shallow, his heart thumped inside his chest, and he felt as though he had run a marathon.
“...Good boy,” Hannibal uttered, his head now upon Will’s shoulder from behind, and it was at this point that Will realised how laboured they both were, with intermingled rapid breaths, and equally hot cheeks pressed together.
Those words began to ring in Will’s head as the pain across his back started a transformation, the blistering agony instead taking on a sharp, stinging ache that prickled at his skin in a way that baffled his brain with waves of adrenaline-fuelled pleasure. If this was torture, it was delectable.
In a brief lapse of self control, Hannibal took the side of Will’s ear between his teeth, gently grazing against the lobe in a manner most contradictory of his instincts, his tongue beginning to probe the sensitive organ, prying small, sweet sounds from Will’s lips.
But bliss is not why they were there.
Will let out a satisfactory sigh as he succumbed to the sensations of Hannibal’s unexpected intimacy, but it was soon caught in his throat as the vampire gloved hand snaked its way around the side of his neck opposite to Hannibal’s oral torture, slowly creeping up along the nape before seizing its target.
“Aah, Hannibal—” He winced and buckled a little, not even noticing that he had resorted to his therapist’s first name, but the other man certainly noticed and made sure to reward such familiarity by clamping his hand down firmer upon the back of Will’s head.
“Yes, Will?” Hannibal asked in a low voice, the vibrations of his purr reverberating against the side of Will’s face, metal spikes clawing downwards at a snail’s pace.
Will’s breathing stuttered and his eyes closed tightly, the pained tears that had escaped them mixed with the skin of Hannibal’s cheek. “F-fuck!” was all he could utter, but he could feel Hannibal’s smile against him.
“So, which do you prefer, Will Graham? Teasing, or torture?” He pressed his lips against Will’s stubble, enjoying the mix of rough and tender against his sensitive skin, as he released the flushed boy’s neck and began to drag the glove down along his spine.
“I…” Will began, his brain deliriously flooded with chemical releases, the hot sensation of blood upon his back, and the frustrating closeness of his torturer pressed up against his face. But something in him was breaking. “...I think you can… do better than that.”
Hannibal’s hand withdrew almost immediately, and he found himself stepping backwards, feeling the loss of Will’s cheek against his own as he removed himself. He took the opportunity to survey his handiwork, the body before him almost slumping against the wall now with shaky breaths, and a series of magnificent scratches adorning his physique. Hot, red, swollen and decorated with patches of drying blood, he was simply beautiful to behold.
He slipped the vampire glove from his slender fingers and tossed it carelessly upon the desk, observing his victim with ravenous eyes, before stepping away from the challenger.
“Come here, Will,” Hannibal called from across the room, taking Will by surprise. He slowly peeled his hands from the wall, straightening his back and feeling every wound throb with an enticing sting as he began to move his muscles. Unsure, he turned to see Hannibal sitting in the chair facing him. “Come and stand in front of me.”
Each step felt like a lifetime as he followed orders once more, until finally he was standing before Hannibal. Although a pain-induced haze still hung like a curtain over his eyes, he was all too aware of how his body betrayed him. His nipples were as swollen as his wounds and just as crimson-hued, but worse still he was now conscious of the small damp stain upon the crotch of his trousers.
Hannibal’s eyes travelled up and down the man’s figure, and if he noticed these things he opted not to draw attention to them, instead settling his eyes upon Will’s own. “Perhaps I was too quick to praise you. It would appear, Will, that you are in fact a very, very naughty boy.”
Will’s face flooded with embarrassment. Whilst the praise stirred something almost animalistic in his loins, suddenly being infantilised like this instead brought about a sense of humiliation that was not to his tastes, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes suggested that his discomfort was wholly the point.
“Remove your trousers,” Hannibal stated simply, his eyes drifting down to Will’s belt.
“I-... I’m not sure-...” Will hesitated, the growing demands of disrobing making him uncertain, even with the painful reminders pulsing on his back telling him that there was little point in turning back now.
“I already told you,” Hannibal began, taking Will’s gaze once again, “I’m not going to fuck you.”
“...So you keep saying,” Will muttered, choosing to ignore the somewhat bemused expression that appeared on Hannibal’s face, averting his eyes to focus on unbuckling his belt. He stumbled out of his trousers, sliding off his well worn shoes in the process, until he was standing in only his socks and boxers, hands awkwardly placed in front of him to try and keep some semblance of modesty.
“Good,” Hannibal said firmly, knowing that providing only half the praise would leave Will feeling unsatisfied. “Now, bend over my knee.”
“Sorry, what?” Will responded immediately, a soberness to his voice that surprised even himself.
“Must I repeat myself?” Hannibal looked up at him curiously, but without a single doubt upon his face. He knew that his instructions would be met, one way or another.
“...Fine.” Will’s reply was delivered through gritted teeth, and he was unable to prevent the hiss escaping them as he felt the small wounds upon his back stretch to reopen as he leant over Hannibal’s seat, trying to fight off discomfiture as he stumbled to find himself laying stomach-first upon the man’s legs. The texture of his suit trousers against his skin made him painstakingly aware of how little clothing covered his own body.
Another inevitable smirk formed upon Hannibal’s face as he placed a hand down upon the small of Will’s back, his fingertips brushing against a laceration. “Good boy.”
Will clasped a hand over his mouth, biting back a moan, internally cursing himself for the impact those words had on him, for knowing that his body would react in a way he’d be unable to disguise.
Hannibal’s hand simply continued to stroke along Will’s back, taking delight in the way he had marked his new plaything, but of course this was not the activity that he had in mind. He began to toy with the waistband of Will’s boxers, which he studied intently. The material was old and slightly worn; he got the impression that Will likely didn’t buy new clothing often. How he wished he could take him shopping for a tailored suit.
As Hannibal casually mused, Will was already in mental anguish, his attempts at internally willing away his growing arousal were not remotely successful, and he was already in the full throes of torture, or at least so he thought, until a muted slap echoed through the room. Taken aback, it took Will a moment to even realise what had happened, that Hannibal had smacked his palm down upon his buttock.
“Did you just-... spank me?” he asked, muffled through the hand still upon his mouth.
“You tell me, Will,” Hannibal responded curtly, before landing his hand down upon the other cheek, another slap penetrating the air of the office.
Will’s own air was stolen from his lungs in a gasp, his hand falling limply away from his face. Whilst not exactly painful, the sensation was a shock to the system.
“I believe you wanted a change of pace, did you not?” Another smack, this time with just a degree of increased intensity, which caused a nervousness to begin gathering in Will’s chest.
“We can do…” Another smack. “A change.” Smack. “Of.” Smack. “Pace.” Firmer still, his hands began to land slaps down upon Will’s barely covered buttocks with increasing speed and ferocity.
With each impact, the sting would increase, and Will’s gasps became louder, but something caused Hannibal to pause. Again he found his hands playing with the elasticated band of Will’s undergarments. “Is it uncomfortable, Will?”
“It-.. It’s fine…” Will replied breathlessly.
“I mean, this.” Hannibal gently pulled at the clothing. “I think that we would both benefit from this being out of the way.” Using both his hands, he pulled the boxers down over Will’s groin, carefully tugging the material over the erection pressing into his lap, over his rear, leaving them to sit on Will’s thighs, careful to not make contact with his exposed rigidity in the process. “There, much better.”
Will was speechless. A confused, almost upset sensation hit the back of his throat, a shame that, for a moment, threatened to consume him. He was so sorely embarrassed at his body’s betrayal, yet at the same time unable to ignore the unruly desire to feel more of what made him harder than he could ever remember being. For a second Will thought that he had felt a similarly longing firmness pressing up from Hannibal’s lap, but he soon had his ability to focus snatched away.
This time the slap was almost deafening, bare skin upon bare skin. Hannibal would allow himself a moment to slide his palm along Will’s rear, savouring the softness, his fingertips dancing across plump flesh to feel patches of soft hair, before he would strike down and spank the fawn in his lap.
What began as more of a surprise than a punishment, slowly began to reconstruct itself into an orderly, concise beating. Each smack was delivered with a precisely increased severity, always guaranteed to hit the exact spot where impact would be most effective. Will’s gasps metamorphosed in turn from shocked releases of air to cries of distress intermingled with a titillated longing.
“Is this more to your satisfaction, Will?” Hannibal asked in between thrashes, knowing full well that his treatment of the man’s tender flesh had rendered him unable to speak. He could only reply in moans and wails, though after a time his hips began to rise and fall to meet Hannibal’s hand, yearning for more.
Will felt delirious. The agony brought with it an intense sense of relief, as though the pent-up stress buried within his ribcage was being churned out of him with every assault. His pelvis bucked wildly, his mind so foggy with hysteria that he had not even noticed when the punishment stopped.
Hannibal kept a hand resting gently upon Will’s inflamed backside, his eyes dark with a lustful fervour, silently watching the mewling young man thrusting fiercely against his lap. His teeth sank down upon his bottom lip to stifle any sounds that threatened to emerge each time their mutual turgescence rubbed together.
This hadn’t exactly been Hannibal’s intention when he lured his patient into a game of sadomasochism. The kind of gratification on his mind was of a far more violent persuasion, but he couldn’t bring himself to awaken Will from his desperation. His irrational frenzy stirred a longing in Hannibal that he hadn’t expected to address until much later along the line.
A hand lifted to grasp onto Hannibal’s trousers tightly, Will’s digits clinging onto the fabric as he moved with irregularity, a blaze of white filling his vision as the intensity of orgasm governed his thoughts, or lack thereof. Luscious spasms of wet, thick heat radiated from his loins, a faint numbness filling the void in the aftermath of grinding sensitive skin against an expensive suit.
His body heaved as his lungs carelessly sought to replenish his body of oxygen, a heavy sense of exhaustion threatening to pull him under as he collapsed upon Hannibal’s lap, the Doctor’s hand making its way to warily stroke along Will’s back, but he didn’t remain dormant for long.
He fought against heavy eyelids, clutching for some semblance of sanity as reality began to dawn on him. Will shifted awkwardly, before stumbling from Hannibal’s seat, his legs threatening to give way. He felt around his thighs for his underwear, trying to pull his boxers up against his spent, naked form.
“Will—” Hannibal began to speak, but was quickly interrupted.
“No.” Will was stern, but his voice was weak, wrecked from the sordid cries that hailed from his frame. He didn’t want to look, yet for a moment he found himself staring at Dr Lecter’s body in the chair, staring at the mess that he had made, the shame. A lump formed in his throat, followed by a twinge of bile that threatened to ravage his raw larynx.
Wordlessly he began to gather at his clothes, wishing he could move faster, trying to make himself look presentable again as he pulled at materials and fastened buttons, none in even remotely the correct order.
Hannibal rose from his chair and attempted to reach for the other man’s shoulder, but Will stumbled away, grabbing at his glasses on the desk.
“Will, listen to me.” He spoke slowly but with authority, yet Will would not look in his direction. “There is a degree of aftercare that is very important here, and I cannot let you leave in this condition.”
“You offered me the door and I am taking it, Dr Lecter.” Will’s words spilled from his mouth haphazardly as he forced his glasses onto his face. “I’m… I’m sorry. This was a mistake.”
Before Hannibal could reach for him again, the man who was even more unkempt than when he first entered the room had left and closed the door behind him, leaving Hannibal standing with a hand outstretched.
He closed his eyes, sucking air deep into his lungs, now quite uncomfortably aware of the wetness that stained his clothes, and the dull ache upon his palms. He simply stood, urging a calmness into his body with every breath. His fingers began to lift and dip, summoning melodies into his skull, but he could only muster a faint discordant cadence, before slamming his hands down onto his desk.
#hannigram#hannibal#nbc hannibal#hannibal lecter#will graham#murder husbands#fanfiction#hannigram fanfiction#hannibal fanfiction#hannibal will#slash fanfiction#mlm#ao3 fanfic#ao3 writer#gay men#gay#gay fiction#lgbt fiction#queer fiction#queer
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HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
[ Oh man this post got long (and surprisingly serious) fjfjfjffjjf I wrote this 2 days ahead of time because I was so excited about it ahahaha --- I'm wishing you all a wonderful 2024!!!!!
2023 was a year of surprising development for me. I don't know if it's because I'm getting older, or if I'm simply moving into a different mindset. I loved this year! It was awesome, and I'm so happy to see that I've written MORE for Nnoitra this year than I did in 2022 ( even though my overall word-count went down from 290 000 to 280 000 ). I can't say I completed many of my goals ( or any of them LOL ). I had lots of goals for 2023, but I was unable to complete them. The past few months, especially, have brought forth big changes in my creative flow and focus.
I've realized that I need to change my priorities, to better fit my new mindset.
Roleplaying is no longer going to be my main focus. In the past, whenever I've wanted to write, I've always focused on finishing drafts, asks ect. I've mostly written on here, since that's what I prefer. Or, rather - what I used to prefer. This is not to say I don't have muse for Nnoitra, because I always feel inspired for him. What's changed are my priorities. I've come to the conclusion that what's important to me is creating stories. Since Nnoitra's story ( main verse ) has become so stagnant, it feels less important to me. I know I can drive the story on, push it forward and thus find it important once more, but - I don't want to do that. I want to create my own, original stories instead. Becoming a professional writer has always been my dream, and that's simply not possible to do when I'm prioritizing rping. Roleplaying is going to have to take the backseat.
--- That being said, I'm absolutely not quitting! I can't imagine myself not writing for Nnoitra, so I'll be writing on here like before, and I'll even try to be more consistent. An enemy of mine in 2023 has been procrastination. One of my goals for 2024 is to conquer this, so that I can be more efficient with my time. I think that by dedicating less time to roleplay, I'll be more efficient when I do sit down and write for my muses. My activity the past few months have been spotty, so I'd love to get into a better flow.
2024 GOALS:
FOCUS ON PERSONAL PROJECTS. I have a lot of them. Two (three?) book projects, two long OC-centered fanfictions.
WRITE FANDOM PROJECTS. I have a lot of ideas for fanfictions, and I want to make the time to write them. Some are long, some are short. Getting feedback on my stories has always been a great feeling, and fanfiction is the best way to get that serotonin.
CHANGE MY WRITING HABITS. My habits are bad. They lead to a ton of procrastination and wasted time. I want to be more structured when it comes to my writing time (and my time in general, but especially my writing time). I want to stick to schedules, word-count goals, page goals ect. Conquering procrastination is going to be key.
CONSISTENT RP POSTING. Even though I won't be focusing on roleplaying, I still intend to do it regularly and get replies and asks out in a more timely manner. I'll probably set off some time in the evening to get replies done, and have some fun on the dash when others are online. I'll try to be consistent across my blogs, not just on Nnoitra.
CREATE THINGS THAT ARE PHYSICAL. I've come to realize that I love things that translate to the real world. Not just words on a screen, or a digital artwork, but things that you can touch. It's why I've absolutely fallen in love with watercolor painting. I'm going to try to print some of my writing work so that I have physical copies. I'm also going to print my art so that I can hold it in real life.
FIND A SHIP FOR NNOITRA. It's been so long since I wrote a ship for him, and I need it back in my life. I've been looking for a ship for him the whole time, but I need to put more effort in, and let him interact with more characters, as well as continue to develop the relationships he does have ( in case one of them turns romantic? ). I'd love for 2024 to be the year Nnoitra falls in love again.
I am SUPER excited for 2024! I love new years and fresh starts, and I feel so incredibly inspired by the changes in my mindset. I feel like I've been stuck for a good while with rping. Don't get me wrong, I've loved every second of it, and I've learnt so much about writing - and met the most amazing people. It's just that it's time for a change. Time for me to create other kinds of stories. I thought that things were aligned for me to write books last year, but I really didn't have the right mindset - but now I do! I'm hyped!! Hope you're ALL going to have the most amazing 2024 guys!! ]
#[ was gonna post this yesterday at midnight but ahahaha i was busy ]#[ watched wonderful fireworks with my s/o and then we watched haikyuu u v u ]#[ also i hope you're not alarmed by this post xDD not much will change when it comes to my writing on here ]#[ actually i think with more structured writing sessions i'll end up more active 8) ]#[ WISH YOU ALL THE BEST !! HAPPY NEW YEAR !!! ]#toby post. ╱ out of character.#longpost //
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Reita,
I'm so sorry I'm just now finding out about your passing.
Thanks to you, I discovered the magic of The GazettE during the age when I felt most alone. I fell in love with the style, the rhythm, and the balance you created.
A big part of me is unable to believe this is real. Even though there is an official statement and thousands of memorial content, I cannot grasp the reality of it. I recently thought of you, wondering if I've missed an Instagram post that was lost in my dashboard. Sadly, I came across a post of an article about your band members bidding you farewell. Lord knows I was hoping you had decided to leave the band to take a break and live life...
My eyes were opened to the world of Visual Kei all because the universe introduced me to you. I came across "Filth in the Beauty" and immediately started searching for the identity of the man wearing a bandana on his face. The need to know more about you, the band, and your music was intense, no one could stop me. It was then I fell in love with wearing masks or any face covering all because I wanted to be as cool as you.
You meant so much to me when I was young. Around that time I was having difficulty finding myself, the youngest of a big family who struggled silently with depression and self-harm. I didn't know who I should be, what music I wanted to claim mine, or what style of clothing to adopt. Back then I didn't have anything or someone that was mine to discover. If I think back far enough, you were probably a MySpace theme.
During my first year of fanfiction, I found some VK writers asking for people to submit artists and prompts. Of course, I sprinted and asked for some of the reader and you. I wanted to read about Suzuki Akira being doted on and loved like he deserved. (And to also imagine I wasn't as young and to be your partner like all fangirls do) It was probably then that I realized not only did I admire you, but that I loved you.
I admit I had grown apart from the VK scene by '07 when I got into K-Pop. But even so, I always came back to you and blared your bass part in "Cockroach" on repeat to give me the edge I search for. Time was the only thing to change, my love and admiration for you was on in the same.
Reita, I loved you when I was age 9, I love you at age 27, and I will love you in the next life.Without you, I wouldn't have discovered all the things and people I love today. I wish you peace wherever you are and to please watch over your brothers until you all meet again.
Sayonara, my love.
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I loved Coexist! The whole story felt very complete by the end and I understand there's no plans for an immediate sequel or anything. But I'm a curious bitch and I love the world you created so I have to ask: did you ever have specific ideas for how some of the major events of season 4 or 5 (or beyond) would go down in that universe? I'm curious about how Faith and Co would deal with The Initiative with no Spike, how the Key/Glory/Joyce stuff would go down with Buffy at Northwestern, or just literally anything you might have thought about for the future of these characters. I'll take literally anything you feel like sharing.
Thanks very much! I'm glad you liked it.
Yeah, as you say, no immediate sequel plans (the big thing I want to make progress on next is my extensive Season 7 rewrite; after that though, maybe ...).
I have thought a bit about what might happen to the characters after the events of the story, though I'm not sure I have any ideas I'm 100% committed to. I have a few fairly vague plans for fics that would take place during S4 -- not necessarily following the plot of S4 as closely as Coexist followed the plot of S3, as I think the world is probably too different now for a lot of that season to happen and in any case I'm not really emotionally invested in Season 4 the same way I am Season 3 -- but certainly happening in a setting where The Initative still exist.
Spoilers for my fanfiction Coexist below the cut I guess?
The most developed idea I have is for a Willow centric fic covering her first year in Oxford: alternating between Willow POV chapters as she explores the university and runs into some familiar faces from canon and shorter chapters made up of emails or IRC messages she gets from her friends back in the US (both commenting directly on the plot and giving Willow advice/encouragement and letting us know a bit about what's happening back in Sunnydale). We know that the Watcher's Council have some sort of link to Oxford (it's where Giles went to train to be a Watcher; "where they make Gileses", as Buffy says later) and, well, I'm aware I never managed to find a role for Gwendolyn Post in Coexist and I think she'd work pretty well as a shady evil mentor for a young practicing witch.
That one has, I think, a non-zero chance of actually happening at some point (a real enough chance that I'm trying to be slightly vague about it, anyway).
As I think you know I am not the biggest fan of the Initiative storyline (and I think it has fewer narrative hooks in a world where none of the main characters are students at Sunndayle U and so none of them have met Maggie Walsh or Riley Finn).
But of course, no Spike doesn't mean the Initative aren't still putting chips in vampires' heads and we know that in this universe, with Buffy away at Northwestern, the events of The Freshman won't happen, so … there's still room in the story for a vampire whose name starts with an 'S' to get a chip in her head and then break out of confinement and reluctantly join forces with the Slayer, right? I'm not really sure why Sunday wouldn't just get staked as soon as she starts being annoying or obviously still evil, but then I'm never sure why that doesn't happen in Season 4 either, so.,,
But really, I want Buffy to have at least a year of things being relatively normal? In a way that would never have worked on the show, I want Buffy to get to occasionally show up and cameo in other people's stories while having a mostly uncomplicated time in college the rest of the year (I imagine she can still patrol without having to find a new Hellmouth; the show is a bit inconsistent about this but I figure there must be some vampires in the Chicago metropolitan area).
Other characters:
I tend to assume that Cordelia will still end up involved in fighting demons when she gets to LA (with Harmony, this time, but still originally looking to put the supernatural behind her). No Angel Investigations, obviously, but she can still meet Doyle and Gunn and Dennis the Ghost, right? I sort of like the idea of Lily/Anne Steele being a bit more actively involved in protecting people from supernatural threats in this world too: she never had the "can I be Anne?" moment here, but I'd like to imagine that her encounter with Faith still had a big impact on her. (I assume she picks a different minor Jane Austen character to name herself after if not Anne Steele.)
Oz and Willow will have to break up eventually because I still want Willow to realize she's into women (just not into Amy). But because I don't have a weird behind-the-scenes feud with Seth Green to inspire me to write his character out entirely, I'd like that to happen in a way where Oz doesn't leave Sunnydale, and gets to develop into a bit more of a person in his own right. (Maybe he gets captured by the Initative sooner, and that's something that can draw Faith and the others into getting involved with that plot?)
I have absolutely no idea how Tara ends up joining the gang in this setting, but I know she will somehow. I think she would fit pretty well into the group dynamics here, even without Willow around. No Buffy or Willow to stick up for her when her family show up on her birthday, but Faith and Jenny aren't exactly going to be thrilled by that either.
Oh, also Marcie is involved in whatever is going on with the Initiative in some capacity. I'm not exactly committed to how, but my current leading theory is that Professor Walsh's superiors send Marcie to (covertly/invisibly) keep an eye on their project, she sees how out of control things are going, and ends up taking Riley's place as the person the gang (well, Xander) knows on the inside who can warn them about Adam. (Possibly without them realizing exactly what Marcie's own agenda is.)
Season 5 … well, I know Dawn will exist and that Joyce will get sick (I think that's pretty close to confirmed in Coexist itself if you assume that Faith's dream about Dawn was prophetic). What that means for Buffy, and whether I can bring myself to have Joyce be more than just sick, I don't really know. Maybe rather than Buffy moving back home, Joyce will move to Illinois to be closer to her daughter and sister? She probably wouldn't do it while Dawn existed, not if Dawn had to move school again, but perhaps she would pre-Dawn and then the memory of Dawn has to get retconned in? Especially if she doesn't get the art gallery back up and running?
Maybe Faith heads up that way too after graduating high school? (I don't think even this Faith is likely to want to go to college, but Diana might have left her enough money she can try to get a place to live in Chicago while she looks for a Slayer-compatible job?) I don't think the Hellmouth itself is really that important for the Glory plot. (The Hellmouth is pretty quiet in Season 5 actually, I think.) Maybe things are stable enough for Jenny and Tara and Amy keep an eye on things and call the Slayers if there's trouble?
As I said in a post a while ago, I kind of like the idea of a Season 5 AU where the Key becomes Faith's sister, rather than Buffy's, but I don't think that's how things go in this setting. I think the twist I'd be more likely to go for here is having Faith be the first person to learn that Dawn isn't "real", and have to grapple with whether or not she tells Buffy that (especially because, in this setting, I think Dawn would still really look up to Faith, and I don't know how Faith would feel about that. How does a Faith who's friends with Anya feel about Dawn 'really' being, in some sense, hundreds of years old?).
The other idea I've had about Dawn here is just to play the game of: how exactly does Coexist play out in a setting with Dawn in it? When did she found out Buffy was a Slayer, did she ever meet Kendra? What happens with the First, or with Wesley, or Allan Finch? How does she feel about Buffy and Willow moving away? How does she feel about Anya or Amy? How does she feel about having to move again, if that's what Joyce ends up deciding to do? That feels like something I'd want to nail down a bit before I started any sort of Coexist sequel with Dawn in it.
Really no plans for beyond Season 5 at all -- or, rather, I have lots of plans and rough ideas for post-Season 5 fics, but none that I think really work so well in the Coexist universe. (I guess I hinted at things like the Beast blocking out the sun and Jasmine showing up somehow and LA being sent to Hell a bit in that story with some of the Mayor's dialogue, but I'm not exactly a fan of Angel Season 4 so I don't know whether I'd ever want to explore that any further. Certainly not the way it happens on Angel.)
As I said, I'm slowly working on plotting out a S7 fic, but that's in a setting much closer to canon and I don't know if I want to make plans for two similar fics at once. It feels right to me that Drusilla will be back to cause problems again at some point in the Coexist world (she's relegated to a dream sequence in Coexist itself, but in my very early plans she'd have turned up in Sunnydale in person and I think she still might later -- or maybe she'll be causing problems for Cordelia in LA? Trying to resurrect Spike the way Wolfram & Hart resurrect Darla in canon, maybe?), but equally I want Drusilla to be the Big Bad in my non-Coexist S7 fic, so I think I'd want to get that nailed down before I started thinking about any other story with Drusilla in and confusing myself.
But as I said on Ao3 a couple of days ago, it's important to me that Coexst feels like it ends in a good place for the characters and I think it does now; one thing I'm a bit wary of is starting a new ambitiously long fic in the same setting, introducing problems for them and shaking up that status quo and then not being able to complete it. I'd rather not do that, so I think any sequels -- if and when I ever write them -- will probably tend to be on the shorter side. At least unless I get a really good idea for S5, or learn the self-discipline needed to write a whole story before I start posting chapters.
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imagining "Everything is Lovely" as a form of poetic dialogue
continuing the fanfiction/ clownery from the previous post
...first of all, I have some issue with this translation of 万物可爱
as my level of Chinese is very basic, I find it very entertaining just to stare at the characters, and I loiter a lot just shuffling them around a bit in search of meaning
and at the end, I stay with the sum of “multitude” + “(can) exist” + “love”, letting these three clouds of meaning cross-pollinate, dispensing with grammar structure, without rushing to press them into something superficially-intelligible
for me it is not just “many things are loveable/cute”, but also, for example, “many loves exist”, or, if we imaginatively insert a time-measuring character, "love exists for very long time"
the key line in this song for me is “lotus has taken root under the mud. please, don’t look back, lotus flower”
the symbolism of lotus is that it is a spiritually cleansing flower that represents longevity. the lotus seeds can stay under the dry mud for years until the circumstances are right, the epitomes of patience and resilience
but when they finally sprout and take root, the plant grows for many years.
this line in my mind entered in a poetic dialogue with one of the songs gg sang at “Our Song” show, “Loving You is Loving the Loneliness”:
I only want to hear you say
you are willing to love me
until the end of the world and the next century
I really only want you to say
what am I in your heart?
give me an answer, it is not an extravagant request
...what am I in your heart? ...lotus flower.
say you are willing to love me until the end of the world and the next century
lotus has taken root. it is here to stay, despite everything.
I love the early spring, and I love the late autumn, I love the young, and I will love the old
I love the black hair and I will love the white hair
I love the travellers. life will be simple when they return to the door
are these the same fellow travellers that we had heard about earlier that year? the ones that embrace under the same sky, singing the same song? for whom the miracle thousands of miles away is so beautiful that love goes beyond distance?
does going the miles and days apart from each other feel like sleepwalking? do you feel more awake when you meet?
but it is life either way, not to be disparaged or de-valued just because not all the dreams come true at the same time
I love to be awake, and I love dreaming. I will love the sleepwalking time when I wake up.
so much time apart.
but please don’t look back (with regret), lotus flower
I am willing to chant just to give him a glimmer of hope, - my mind offers from a quote from “Twenty”
yes, there are beautiful things that happened in the past and will never be recreated in the same way, and I love them
and people I love, I will never let go of, when the right time comes
...
what I hear is a beautiful declaration of long-term commitment, a reassurance
this is my galaxy brain, my wild imagination, this is total fanfiction, clownery and cpn
to be continued
#yizhan#witnessing something precious#bjyxszd#everything is lovely#poetic dialogue#songline#fellow travelers#I am willing to chant just to give him a glimmer of hope#now i realise: to love you is to fall in love with loneliness#love goes beyond distance#art connects the private and the generally shared
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Hope your doing well Juno!! As someone who loves your writing process, what is your process for writing Enid? And how has that changed since concentrate and ask again to TSN (Greek tragedy being in the middle) ❤️
Hello anon!! 🫶 thank you for your question!! I’ll answer under the cut!
And p.s. for anyone reading, I unfortunately am going through some tough personal circumstances at the moment and so the upcoming chapter is delayed for a little while until I’m emotionally competent enough to write intimate moments without having a tiny mental breakdown! I appreciate all of your patience! I have fallen victim to the ao3 author curse of everything going wrong in my life at once 😌
I think that, for me, the best writing is the type that can draw from real life to bring some of those everyday spices to the flavour of the description! So, when I write, I try to write what I know, even in circumstances that are purely fictional.
In that way, I find I think more like Wednesday and my natural speech is more like Enid’s! So, I have a lot of fun writing her dialogue, because it feels more true to my actual use of language. When I’m writing her, I try to imagine what the lines sound like spoken out loud, and if they sound natural to what a teenage girl/bubbly adult woman would say, including filler and natural pauses. For her thought process and memories, I try to remember key moments that show her emotional range from the canon material so she doesn’t get flattened into a golden retriever character.
She’s had a tough life being what the Wednesday universe would call a medically complicated child, being the only daughter and youngest child, and having parents with high expectations for her. And, being a werewolf adds a social challenge to her childhood in a world full of non-outcasts as well. I try to keep those things in mind and ask myself WWED, and I usually come to the conclusion that she would try to spin the best out of what she has but know where to draw the line! She’s a much more complex character than I think fanon syndrome has eroded her into, so I like to add even more dimension where I can.
Overall, to keep the characterisations consistent, I try to find evidence in the canon material for every move I make. If there isn’t a direct parallel, I try to find evidence that can reasonably support an extrapolation. For example, we’ve seen Enid emotionally react with a pretty broad range of things. We’ve seen face-in-the-pillow exaggerated crying, humiliation-turned-anger violent outbursts, quiet disappointment, sting covered by deliberate optimism, justified last-straw frustration, and even vulnerable understated crying. I try to remember what age I’m writing her at for any given story and use those types of supporting evidence to age her up or down based on what I know about the process of emotional maturing!
Another key piece is pop culture and social media references. The fanfiction paradox is that every story for a contemporary setting has to take place in the present day because, even in TSN where they are like 12 years in the future from the canon, I can only make her modern by referencing what is current now. Even with that plot hole aside, it’s fun finding little ways to slip colloquialisms and references into her thoughts and dialogue!
When I wrote CAAG, I didn’t pay much attention to being super true to their characters. I wrote the story on a total whim over a couple of days mostly just for fun, so I wasn’t dedicated to making sure it was a truthful portrayal of them. I just used my gut instinct to write what I thought they might do and say.
But, for TSN, I dedicated a lot more time to really thinking through how they’d act in different circumstances outside the canon, and then how they’d act if they were adult women with years of emotional development under their belts. Where Wednesday might have made a sharp but terrifically mean comment or sabotaged something when the cover was leaked in the canon, maybe she would have gained the ability to just walk away. And, just maybe, she would have learned to attend to Enid’s feelings during that whole process too. That sort of thing!
For Greek Tragedy, I’m doing that same sort of thought process, but scaling them back down again. I’m most intimately familiar with a version of them that I invented for their aged-up story, so I’m trying to find a realistic middle ground! Having a beta reader has also been really helpful because if I’m not sure I’ve nailed it, I have a second opinion to weigh in!
I hope this answered your question, and thanks so much for sending it!!
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It’s kinda funny isn’t it? That they call it the butterfly effect? Because- y’know, bugs?
a bit of an experimental little comic here- had a lot of fun making it! This is a scene from early on in Worm, ‘ Insinuation 2.4 ‘. I always thought that Gladly turning away here was very influential to Taylors development into Skitter/Weaver- and really, ultimately Khepri. It’s a small moment, just another tiny betrayal in a sea of much larger more dramatic betrayals, but sometimes that’s the stuff that sticks with us.
At the end of Worm Lisa has a really great speech about how Taylor never really asks for help- she just forces people to help by putting them in situations where they can’t say no. It’s such a devastatingly accurate read of her character, and I just think it’s cool that you can really trace that attitude aalllll the way back here. Why ask for help when you know people will only walk away if it’s inconvenient for them- to Taylor it’s much easier to just skip the middle man and force them to do it.
I’ve seen some people say that they’re tired of seeing all the ‘bullying stuff’ harped on in fanfiction about Taylor, about how it’s boring and actually didn’t matter all that much to her- that she gets over it and doesn’t care about any of it after doing all that crazy shit with the Undersiders. I vehemently disagree- the harassment campaign against Taylor, and the inaction of the authority figures around it fundamentally alters her perception of the world in a way that can be felt in nearly every chapter. Thinking that Taylors ‘over it’ just because Taylor thinks she’s over it is somewhat naïve- Taylor is already known to be a somewhat unreliable narrator.
Anyway sorry for babbling! The quotes I took are down here if you actually want to read them. :->
“What does she use to wash her face? A Brillo pad?”
“She should! She’d look better!”
“Never talks to anybody. Maybe she knows she sounds like a retard and keeps her mouth shut.”
“No, she’s not that smart.”
No more than three feet behind Emma, I could see Mr. Gladly leaving his classroom. The tirade didn’t stop as I watched him tuck a stack of folders under one arm, find his keys and lock the door.
“If I were her, I’d kill myself,” one of the girls announced.
Mr. Gladly turned to look me in the eyes.
“So glad we don’t have gym with her. Can you imagine seeing her in the locker room? Gag me with a spoon.”
I don’t know what expression I had on my face, but I know I didn’t look happy. No less than five minutes ago, Mr. Gladly had been trying to convince me to go with him to the office and tell the principal about the bullying. I watched him as he gave me a sad look, shifted the file folders to his free hand and then walked away.
I was stunned. I just couldn’t wrap my head around how he could just ignore this. When he had been trying to help me, had he just been covering his own ass, doing what was required of him in the face of a situation he couldn’t ignore? Had he just given up on me? After trying to help, in his own completely ineffective way, after I turned his offer for help down twice, he just decided I just wasn’t worth the effort?
#ALSO YES I KNOW I FORGOT HER GLASSES#IM A FOOL AND A FAILURE#aaaaaa#worm#parahumans#taylor#taylor hebert#skitter#tw bullying#tw ableist language#let me know if I need to tag it as anything else#my art
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✬Obey Me! Masterlist✬
Last Updated: 07/11/23
Key:
🔞Smut/NSFW
🧁Fluff
⚡Angst
🚩Possibly Triggering Content
🏅Personal Favorite
💌Request
[Fandom List] [Prompt List] [Demon Slayer ver.]
Soulmates [Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
Mermay: [General] [Other Characters]💌 [Types of Merfolk]
[Imagine MC is on their period in the human world. ft. Diavolo]🧁
[With soul reaper princess s/o]💌
[Demon Brother fighting for your attention]
[When you cry]
[Confession]
[Ship Dynamics]
[When they knew they loved you[
[Unrequited]
[Hot things they do]
[Oblivious]
[Types of kisses]
[Vampire MC]
[They scare you]
[Hanahaki]
Demon Brothers
Lucifer
[Pining]⚡
[12:52 pm]
[Fluff Letters: A,B,C]🧁
[21. “You made me miserable and I still loved you.”]
Mammon
[Character Analysis]
[3:21 am]--(You can't sleep)
Leviathan
[Let's play a game!]
Satan
[Stray]
[Study Date]
Asmodeus
[With Atsushi s/o]💌
Beelzebub
[Hungry Hungry Hippo]
Belphagor
[Sir naps a lot]
Dateables
Diavolo
[Character Analysis]
Barbatos
[NSFW Alphabet]🔞
[Pining]⚡
Simeon
[Pining]⚡
Solomon
[Cursed Sandwhich]
Luke
[Sweet]
[Sweet Light]
A glimpse into a morning with your lover [Solomon/Barbatos/Diavolo]
[Frog in my hand prank]
You bother lucifer [ft. Satan and Mammon]
[Sesshomaru's Child]💌
In which you are Sesshomaru's child
[Characters as songs]
[Will You Remember Me?]
You contemplate your mortality and the boys responses.
Incorrect Quotes: [x],[x],[x],[x],[×],[x],[x],[x],[x]
All rights reserved @violetduchess. All works of fanfiction belong to me, please do not copy, translate or repost any works without my express permission. Thank you.~☆
#xreader#diavolo x reader#obey me diavolo#shall we date diavolo#mammon x reader#obey me barbatos#obey me mammon#barbatos x reader#lucifer x reader#leviathan x reader#obey me satan#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#swd asmodeus#beelzebub x reader#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphagor#belphagor x reader#solomon x reader#simeon x reader#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#masterlist
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Terribly sorry, but due to your post indicating that you enjoy hearing other people talk about their OCs, which was tagged with Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age, I will now use your askbox to ramble about a stupid crossover fanfiction idea I had that I will almost certainly never write but cannot get out of my head and I just need to talk about somewhere.
Anyway, there's a really common trend in DA/TES crossover fics where the premise is basically just "TES protagonist (almost invariably the Last Dragonborn) ends up in Thedas during the events of Dragon Age: Inquisition and either ends up being the Inquisitor or an additional companion to the Inquisitor." The idea is just one of those, with the TES protagonist in question being an Ohmes Nerevarine.
If you don't know, khajiit can be born into one of 16 different "furstocks" depending on the phase of the moons when they are born, ranging all the way from talking house cats (the alfiq) to 10-foot-tall tiger-men (the pahmar-raht), with the ohmes pretty much just looking like somewhat hairier-than-average elves to the point that many ohmes tattoo more feline features onto their faces in order to make it more obvious that they're khajiit. This means they'd be able to blend in relatively easily since they could just pass themself off as an elf, but would still be a member of a species completely alien to Thedas. Humans are just humans, and even mer could be thought of as basically just weird elves, but there's nothing even similar to the khajiit.
Furthermore, the moons of Nirn are extremely important to every part of khajiiti society from their government to their religion, and this would mean they'd be thrown into a world where those moons just... aren't there. The very sky of Thedas would be alien to them, and a khajiit would be the most affected by that out of all of Nirn's cultures.
On a more metaphysical level, khajiit are innately tied to the Lunar Lattice, which is basically the khajiiti name for the barrier separating Mundus from Oblivion and Aetherius. Azura is worshipped by them as Azurah, a "keeper of all gates and keys, all rims and thresholds," and it's implied that Azurah created the khajiit to help maintain the Lunar Lattice in some way. Seeing as the main plot of DA:I is heavily focused on the Veil between the mortal world and the Fade, you could probably do some very interesting stuff with a character who has an innate connection to a similar metaphysical barrier.
As for the Nerevarine part, it's for a few different reasons. Partly because (as mentioned) almost every single one of these fics has the Last Dragonborn and having a different TES protagonist would make it slightly more unique. Partly because a Khajiiti Nerevarine would likely be able to relate to an Elven Inquisitor quite a lot, being hailed as the destined savior of a people who treat most of their respective peoples as subhuman. And finally because the Nerevarine is very closely connected to Azura, with her basically being the Nerevarine's patron goddess.
I don't have a huge number of specific ideas for the plot, but the Nerevarine's presence there would definitely be a scheme by Azura. Azura is ultimately a prideful and egotistical being; not malevolent, but definitely self-centered. In Daggerfall her sphere is vanity and egotism, rather than twilight and prophecy, and those associations are very much still present even in later games. Above all else she desires to be loved and worshiped, so how could she resist a world bereft of gods, free for the taking? I imagine her plan here is two-fold: just like in Morrowind there’s her obvious and wholly altruistic goal (supporting the Nerevarine in his quest to defeat a great evil), and that goal just so happens to further her own ends. She seeks to essentially supplant the Veil; she wants to become known as a benevolent goddess who oversees the barrier between the mortal world and the Fade. Her being there to help the Nerevarine mend the Veil is partly a cover, and the person she’s really interested in is Solas, planning to gain his trust and support by presenting herself as a better alternative to his plan of simply tearing down the Veil. She/Moonshadow (since Princes pretty much are their realm of Oblivion) would serve as a twilight realm, removing the Veil without doing the damage that would result from simply tearing it down. Just like in Morrowind, she’d be a highly morally ambiguous character, never overtly doing anything sinister or malicious, but definitely manipulative and with somewhat unclear end-goals or motivations.
I imagine the Nerevarine would have a very complicated relationship with Azura. Since the Nerevarine is canonically an orphan and she’s “The Mother of All Khajiit,” he might view her as kind of a mother-figure he’s devoted to and desperate to earn the approval of, but feels more and more like he’s being used and manipulated by her (because he is). He will especially feel this way if he knows that he’s on Thedas because of another one of her plans. He probably won’t hate her or anything, and may even have faith that she is acting for the greater good, but will have something of an arc of him becoming less emotionally dependent on her and distancing himself. If he cuts ties entirely, it would probably happen right at the end, and coincide with her finally getting Solas to support her plans.
I know you said you probably won't write out a full fanfiction, but you definitely have the ground work for one. If you ever do, remember that Thedas canonically has two moons,just like Nirn. 😉
Also,I had no idea that asks could be so long, so you taught me something new. ^.^
Thank you for sharing your ideas. This was really interesting.
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Have you ever thought about writing a genderbend fanfiction about Guts as a woman & Griffith? What would a female Guts look like for you? Do you think Griffith would act the same if Guts was a lady? I think he would most likely pursue her but Guts would be too scared because of horrible experiences in her past and reject him and Femto...well he would do the same he did in the manga. I think this is great material for a darkfic. What do you think?
Hello there, love~ I hadn't considered writing a fic, per se, but I have seen a few fem!Guts interpretations and have been tempted to try designing my own. Perhaps I shall get around to that, so keep an eye out for my take on her.
As for if Griffith would be interested in her, I would have to say yes. I don't think it was Guts exclusively being a man that drew Griffith to him, but more so, Guts' demeanor and attitude. There was something about him that instantly intrigued Griffith to an eventual point of infatuation beyond what even Griffith could put a name to at the time. I think that same spark would be lit regardless of Guts' gender. Perhaps Guts being a woman warrior would be yet another fascinating layer to the enigma of a young mercenary.
If Guts still had that persona that fascinated Griffith, he'd absolutely still find Guts distracting. I think a key difference would be that pursuing Guts openly would not be a dangerous/scandalous affair if they were m/f. I imagine Griffith would feel less internal conflict about the intensity of his interest in Guts. Perhaps that would lead him to admiting it was love/infatuation sooner. If he did, I can imagine his approach to overt affection might be different from their m/m canon. Of course, there is still his dream to consider, so pursuing Guts as a permanent romantic partner would butt up against his need to marry into royalty still. Ahh, it is really hard to say how he would handle his feelings towards Guts if openly courting Guts was an option that wouldn't compromise his reputation in the eyes of Midland and its connection to the Holy See, even if that meant abandoning his dream for her.
If Guts still wanted to leave the band, though, and the same downfall of Griffith occurred, I agree the Eclipse would still likely be unavoidable. Griffith’s mental state was a wreck. He wasn't in the mindset to be able to handle a second abandonment. Assuming Casca and Guts still spoke of Guts leaving the band again, Griffith would probably crack the same way as canon. As for the exact events of the Eclipse... it's really hard to say. Griffith used sex before to bury his anger and pain. Accosting Charlotte after Guts left and trying to force himself on Casca in his weakened state post torture. I think the assault by Femto only follows form. He was feeling immense amounts of mental and physical pain and anger. The only question I'm not sure of in this reality is if it would be Casca or Guts herself Femto assaults? In a darkfic setting, I could easily see it going either way. On one hand, Guts would have been violated as a young girl, and being forced to watch Casca experience the same trauma would be triggering (not unlike canon tbh). On the other hand, (and I've come across this in m/m griffguts art/darkfic as well) you could make it Guts herself that Femto abuses. Almost as if to say, "You may have rejected me, but you can never deny me. You are mine. You belong to me." Dark stuff, my friend.
Quite the interesting thought exercise! Typically, I only view griffguts in a m/m light (and occasionally a w/w AU), but m/f could be really interesting as well to delve into. Tbh, gender doesn't make a huge world of difference in my interest in character relationships, aside from the in-world implications that can add strife or spice hehe. It's one of the reasons my main ships are all over the place ^ ^;; I think m/f have just as much potential for dark, angsty, heartachingly interesting storytelling as any other ♡ I'm up for anything-- especially in a darkfic mwhaha~ m/m, w/w, m/f, give me all of it.
Thank you for the ask, dear Anon ♡ You've given me much to think about~
Please, have a happy new year, as well 💕
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*Welcome to the Witches Hut*
🔮 This little blog is run by me! My name is Tati, but I usually go by Scribbles online, though either is fine, and my pronouns are she/they!
🔮 The witches hut is where I allow myself to be as strange as I want to be, and to share little bits and pieces of the worlds I create inside my mind.
Autistic and Physically Disabled| Generalized Anxiety| Lesbian| Mixed Black| Practicing Witch| Demi-girl
🔮 A lot of what I do falls into Self Inserts, X Reader Fanfiction, and F/o Imagines, Self insert and f/o drawing requests! {Free, Sketch Only}
Fandoms:
{{Key}}⚡Most active, 🧙 Self-Insert Made For, ❤️ F/0s
Shera and the Princesses of Power {2018-2020} ⚡🧙❤️
Gravity Falls {2012} ❤️
The Owl House ⚡🧙❤️
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Catra Applesauce MeowMeow 💝 💕
Shera and the Princesses of Power 2018
Adora/She-ra 🤟🏽
Shera and the Princesses of Power 2018
The Mad Dogs 🐤
Rise of the Teenage Mutant Nija Turtles
Eda Clawthorne 🐤
The Owl House
King Clawthorne 🐤 🦷
The Owl House
Luz Noceda 🐤 🦷
The Owl House
The Belweather Unit 🐤🤟🏽
Motherland: Fort Salem
Fan Made Content:
Shera and the Princesses of Power x Reader Imagines: X *link n/a*
Rise of the Teenage Mutant Nija Turtles: X *link n/a*
The Owl House: X *link n/a*
Fictional Other Imagines: X *link n/a*
Self Insert Art: X *link n/a*
Fanart: X *link n/a*
Fandom Gush: X *link n/a*
Fictional Other Gush: X *link n/a*
Catra Simp Hours: X *link n/a*
The Sims 4: *link n/a*
TS4 Self Insert x Catra: *link n/a*
🔮 That concludes my little promo, this is my first time doing something like this so excuse me if it's a little silly. Still, I hope to see you all again, weridos and witches!
#catras witchy girlfriend#self insert community#selfship promo#fo community#fo imagines#spop x reader#spop#shera and the princesses of power#rtmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rtmnt x reader#platonic x reader#romantic x reader#toh#the owl house#comfort character#motherland fort salem#gravity falls#marvel#fnaf#ts4 f/o#ts4#self shipping#nd selfship
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