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youvebeenlivingfictional · 22 days

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tense

Pairing: Patrick Zweig x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.

Notes: Not beta-read because when is it ever.

Length: 2.5K

Warnings: Set after the movie; kid's tennis coach Patrick; single mom reader; fingering; oral sex ; vaginal sex; safe sex

Summary: You'd realized within a few meetings that Patrick wasn't exactly like a big kid—he was more like a frat boy that had never gone to college. He'd asked for an advance on his fee, but had agreed to an all-cash payment at the end of the first lesson. He palled around with your son, teased him about school, about the girls that he had a crush on. He didn't fill the role of a father where your son didn't have one, but he was more like an older, cooler schoolmate.

He was funny, he was knowledgeable, and he never missed an opportunity to flirt with you.

"You nail this kid's dick to the wall, I'll teach you that trick shot."

You know that the outward show of your disapproval for your eleven-year-old son's tennis coach's is necessary, but you're biting back a laugh, too. You know that it's the motivation that your son needs going into his final match, but there's gotta be a better way to say it, right?

Still, your son is nodding enthusiastically, and Patrick is turning to look at you. You tip your head to the side, purse your lips, and try not to crack a smile at the guilty, almost dopey smile that Patrick gives you, accompanied by a little shrug. You shake your head and reach for your coffee, using the sip to cover the smile you've been fighting.

Well, Patrick's methods have always been...A little unorthodox.

You'd been warned that he was a little different when you'd gotten his information. Your contact at the Mark Rebellato Academy had recommended him when your son hadn't qualified for a scholarship.

"He needs to get his game up," Your contact had said, "And Zweig's the one to do it. He'll write him a recommendation, too. He's a good guy, good coach. He's not on the level with the kids, but he can get there, you know. He's good with kids 'cause he kinda...Sometimes acts like a big kid."

You'd realized within a few meetings that Patrick wasn't exactly like a big kid—he was more like a frat boy that had never gone to college. He'd asked for an advance on his fee, but had agreed to an all-cash payment at the end of the first lesson. He palled around with your son, teased him about school, about the girls that he had a crush on. He didn't fill the role of a father where your son didn't have one, but he was more like an older, cooler schoolmate.

He was funny, he was knowledgeable, and he never missed an opportunity to flirt with you.

The first time, you'd figured that it was just his way of trying to secure his place as your son's coach, but after the fifth time, you got the sense that he was sort of just...Like that. Every hello and goodbye came with a less-than-subtle elevator gaze—a slow sweep up and down over your body before he gave you a little wave and sent you and your son on your way.

For as surprising as flirting had been, it wasn't totally unwelcome. Your dating life had basically been nonexistent since you'd had your son, and Patrick's advances were kinda...Flattering, even when you weren't completely sure that he meant them.

But the truth of it had been driven home when you'd been driving your son home from practice.

"Patrick asked about you."

"Oh?" You'd responded distractedly, figuring it would be something related—whether or not you'd ever played tennis, if you enjoyed it—but your son went on:

"He asked if you're single."

Your brain stalled for a moment, not fully taking it in as you pulled the car into your driveway.

"...He what?" You finally asked, twisting to look at him.

"Uh-huh. And if you date."

"What'd you say?"

"I dunno. That you're busy."

It was a fair answer, and the truth, but there shouldn't have been a world in which your son was getting that question in the first place. You stewed on it for a few hours before you ultimately called Patrick. You eyed your son a room away where he was doing his homework, listening to the brrrrr....brrrrr as you waited for Patrick to pick up.

"Hey—"

"What the hell are you doing, asking my son if I'm single?"

Patrick doesn't answer for a moment, and it gives you a chance to imagine where he must be, what he must be doing. You can hear the murmur of a tv in the background. Is he in a house, an apartment? Alone, or with someone that's trying to pin him down? You can imagine the cracked screen of his phone pressed up against his beard.

"...It just came up."

"How the hell did something like that just come up?"

"I asked him if he ever practiced with his dad."

Your hand flexes around your phone, irritation rising.

"We don't have contact with his father."

"Yeah, I uh. I got that."

"What's that have to do with me dating?"

"That was just pure curiosity."

You close your eyes, trying to quell your annoyance.

"Well if you have a question about that sort of thing, you ask me, not my son."

"Okay."

"Do not cross that line again, Zweig."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"I won't."

"I'm serious—"

"I am, too. I won't ask him about that stuff."

"Good."

"So when's the last time you got fucked?"

Your jaw dropped, face going hot as you tried to parse where the hell this man got the audacity to ask you that kind of thing.

"Excuse me?"

"Thought it seemed like a pretty straightforward question."

"It's a stupid one."

"...Yeah, you're right."

It should end there, but before you can wrap the conversation up, he adds—"It's pretty clear that you haven't gotten any in a while."

"Is it."

"Very obvious, yeah. You're really tense."

"This is just how I am naturally."

"I doubt that."

"Doubt all you want, but you're wrong."

"I don't mind. It's kinda hot," He adds, "You've got that grumpy milf thing goin' on."

Your mouth worked wordlessly for a moment before you managed, "Okay, I—I am hanging up on you now."

"Sure. Think'a me when you're rubbing one out later."

You hang up without another word, your face hot with embarrassment. You take in a deep breath, dampening the appeal of the curse words that bubble up in your throat. You're fine. You're not worked up. Patrick Zweig did not get to you.

But despite your best efforts, you did, in fact, think of him as you rubbed one out.

His flirting hasn't lessened since then. If anything, it's become more overt. Patrick never says anything untoward when your son is around, but he teases you when the two of you are waiting for your son to get his things together, or over text between lessons. You never take it too seriously. You're sure he's coaching other kids, flirting with their moms just as much. Part of his personality, part of his business model—whatever it is, it's pure Patrick, so you don't begrudge him.

You look at Patrick again as he sits beside you in the stands.

"Nail his dick to the wall?" You repeat.

"With points. Obviously."

"Right."

"You look unconvinced."

"I just don't think that that's necessarily the right way to motivate my son."

"Really?"

"Really."

"...Huh."

You try to ignore his mock curiosity as he leans back in his seat, propping his elbows up on the chairs behind you. When your son serves, hitting a solid ace, and crowing in excitement as the ref declares the point his, you feel Patrick preening beside you, and feel his arm curl around the back of your chair. You can't even bring yourself to be truly annoyed, but you make a point of sighing anyway.

"What were you saying?"

"Can it, Zweig."

"So a trick shot isn't a way to motivate him, but this is?" Patrick waves his arm toward the array of flashing, screeching games, the children zipping back and forth, their pockets bursting with tokens and prize tickets.

"I promised him a month ago that if he won his tournament, he could pick two friends and come to Chuck E. Cheese. I just..." You trail off, "I didn't think that...He'd be pick you as one of the friends."

"Am I not his friend? I'm wounded."

"You are—Kinda, I just mean that I figured he'd pick two of his friends from school. You know, kids his own age?"

"Ah," Patrick nods. "Well, I'm flattered."

"I'm sure."

"...I am."

You hesitate before you turn to look at Patrick, and are stunned to find a small, sincere smile on his lips. You can't help but smile a bit, too.

"He appreciates you," You admit. "Your guidance, you know. You've totally changed his game."

"Eh," Patrick looks around. "He would've gotten there without me."

"Not on his own."

"...Not without you, either," Patrick meets your eye again. And while you're certain that everything else he's ever said about you has been a joke, you can tell that he means this. But you can't help but deflect:

"Yeah, well. I'm his mom. There are most places he can't get without me. School, for example."

Patrick huffs a soft laugh, and you smile—really smile. You see something in Patrick's eyes that you haven't seen before, something warm and wanting. You don't let yourself read too much into it as you turn to look around the Chuck E. Cheese again—but before you know it, Patrick is scooching closer, curling his arm around the back of your chair.

"So," He presses his thigh against yours, and you try not to think about the hard, steady muscle, "You still haven't gotten any, huh?"

You bite the inside of your cheek as you fold your arms across your chest.

"Do you have any idea how inappropriate that question is?"

"I know exactly how inappropriate it is."

"And how uncalled for?"

"I think it's very called for."

"Really."

"Very."

"I can't say I agree with you."

"Well it's a good thing I'm not asking you to agree, I'm just asking you to answer."

"You seem to think you know the answer."

"I dare you to tell me I'm wrong." You feel his breath brush against your jaw as he leans closer, lowers his voice to a husky murmur: "And even if I am somehow wrong, whoever it was did not do it right."

"The hell makes you say that?"

"You're still tense."

"I'm always tense. I'm naturally tense."

"I still don't believe that."

"I don't care what you think, and you know what else?"

"What."

"I don't think you could make me cum." You make the mistake of looking at Patrick when you say it. You hope that you've wounded him, but his knowing smile just widens.

"Really."

You can hear his slick smugness, and you know that he doesn't believe you at all. But you force yourself to hold his gaze, nodding.

"Really."

He pouts just a little, nodding.

"I think we should test that hypothesis. Make sure you really are just that tense."

"Even if I did agree to that, I don't exactly have a ton of time.

"What about when he's at school?"

"I have a job."

"Right."

"Mhm. It 's how I'm able to pay you for the lessons?"

"That makes sense. I'll work something out."

"Will you."

"Sure."

"I'd like to see you try."

Patrick grins, leaning back in his seat again.

"You're gonna like a lot more than that."

When you get the text, you realize that he must know that you're not—that your son must have told him about his friend's birthday party, that you'd have a free afternoon. You're tempted to tell him that you're occupied—that you have a date, that you've found someone else to fuck you.

But as you stare down at Patrick's text—Busy?—you can't help but lean into your curiosity.

It's supposed to be different from this. It's supposed to be awkward, and weird, and not nearly as good, but you can't help it. Your thighs are tense; your fingers are curled in the sheets; your arms are shaking as you hold yourself up, pushing back against Patrick's cock. He groans against your shoulder, his arm hooked around your middle as he fucks you from behind.

His breath pushes hotly against your shoulder, a groan pushing between his lips with each thrust. His hand slides up to grasp your breast, squeezing and teasing in a way that makes you shiver.

Goddamn, but it shouldn't be so good. He shouldn't have been able to make you cum on his tongue and fingers with that dopey grin on his face. He shouldn't have covered your body in kisses in a way that made you feel cherished and wanted and special in a way that you haven't felt in a long time. And now, he shouldn't be able to make you want to press back, to chase down the stretch of his cock as he picks up his pace.

You reach back, grasping his thick curls as he nuzzles against your neck, chasing the scrape his beard with a soothing, slick kiss.

"Patrick," You breathe, "Fuck, I—Oh, God."

"Cum for me again," He urges, sliding his hand down to toy with your tingling clit. "Fuck, tighten up on me, baby—Fuck, that's it, that's it—"

You cry out as you cum, hips rabbiting back against his as your orgasm swells. Patrick groans, pulling out as you're still cumming. He crawls up over you, yanking off the condom and jacking his cock over your parted lips. You lean up, taking the head of his cock in and swirling your tongue. The first spurt of his cum catches you off-guard as much as the feeling of his cock pressing more deeply into your mouth as he thrusts. You draw back just enough to let go of his cock, jerking it as his cum sprays across your neck and shoulder.

Patrick finally lowers himself to lay beside you, panting as the two of you settle. You glance over, taking in his hairy chest, his muscled physique. You watch the rise and fall of his chest as he calms his breathing, and feel his hand smoothing over your thigh. You smile a little bit at the feeling, giving his hand a pat before you push yourself off of the bed to go to the bathroom and grab a washcloth. You rinse your mouth out while you're able, cleaning his cum off of your skin before returning to the bedroom, passing the washcloth to Patrick. He mutters his thanks, wiping himself down beside he tosses it away.

"C'mere," He urges.

You climb back into bed with a narrowed, speculative gaze as Patrick takes your hand, drawing you closer.

"Hey," He laughs, "What's that face for?"

"Nothing."

"You still tense?"

"Told you I would be."

"I think you're faking it. And that better be all you're faking."

"What if it isn't?"

"Oh, it is."

"How can you know that?"

"I know." He doesn't let you keep your distance long, curling his arms around your middle and drawing you into his lap. You wobble a little, tucking your legs beneath yourself and steadying your hands on his shoulders. Patrick's hands slip down to cup your ass, giving it a playful squeeze and grinning when you smile. Patrick tips his head up, dotting your neck with kisses as you tip your head to the side, giving him a bit more room.

"What time's the party over?" He mumbles against your skin.

"Of all things, he didn't tell you that?"

"Said you might let him sleep over at his friend's place, but you hadn't decided yet."

You smile, nodding.

"I did tell him that."

"What'd you decide?"

"...He can sleep over."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Can I sleep over?"

"You gonna be on your best behavior?"

Patrick leans back, grinning up at you.

"Not a chance."

#Patrick Zweig x Reader #Patrick Zweig x You #Patrick Zweig/Reader #Patrick Zweig/You #Patrick Zweig fic #Patrick Zweig imagine

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sphireath-wisp · 10 months

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#One, Two, Three, Kiss!

Sypnosis: You get put on a kiss cam with another person while watching their game live. How do they react?

Part 1: Yoichi Isagi, Micheal Kaiser, Chigiri Hyoma, Mikage Reo

Warnings: Jealousy, not proofread, the reader goes on the kiss cam with both girls and guys, short, cursing, a little suggestive depending on how dirty your mind is

Featuring: Shoei Barou (@randomnumber20, @ariachaos), Ryusei Shidou, Sae Itoshi, Rin Itoshix GN! reader

Shoei Barou

You shifted closer to your armrest, away from the guy next to you to highlight your reluctance. It felt more than just sickening - the cheers from the audience to go through with it, the shockwaves sent through your body when you felt a hand caress your forearm. You wished it was anyone other than the guy in the kiss cam with you, his touch disgustingly gentle.

Your feeling didn't last long though as you noticed the guy's grip on you loosen significantly, his fingers trembling against your skin. It felt like there was a sudden chill all of sudden. He gulped, eyes locked onto whatever or whoever was behind you, towering over the both of you.

"Babe!" You cheer with a smile, your shoulders dropping and a sigh of relief escaping you. Barou's glare melted away at the sight of you, placing a reassuring pat on your shoulder - though, it didn't take a genius to sense the anger seething out of him. "I'll win the game for you later, go grab some snacks for yourself first, I'll pay."

You felt Barou place a cap on your head, pushing the peak of the cap down so you wouldn't be able to see the horrific scene in front of you. You could hear a yelp and, from the corner of your eye, you spotted blood. For a moment, you felt pity for the guy, but that quickly dissipated.

Ryusei Shidou

Being in a relationship with Shidou was like adopting a clingy, violent, rabid dog from the street. Did you love him? Absolutely, without a doubt. Did you question why you loved him every moment of the day? Hell fucking yeah. Every time he scored, he would stare in your direction and give you the biggest shit-eating grin ever. Having front-row seats only made it easier to hear him ramble and boast. Though, it did make you feel content to see him so motivated.

Oh boy, did that all change when the realization dawned on you - you were on a kiss cam with the person next to you. The gaudy effects and filters on the screen, the hearts littered across the panel of you and that poor person, you could feel a migraine kicking in as you imagined the scene Shidou would stir up.

A hand wrapped around your waist, yanking you away from the person. "Shidou, don't do anything stupid." You attempted to bring him back to his (nonexistent) senses, though it was in vain. He was already cracking his knuckles, a hand holding the collar of their shirt and his other hand balled into a fist.

Desperate times call for desperate measures - you try to reassure yourself as you pinch his earlobe and pull him close to you. You lower your voice to a whisper, a little flustered as you part your lips. "Score 10 more goals and win the match, then I'll spend the night with you."

Without a single atom of hesitation in his body, he let go of the person's collar - practically forgetting about their existence. Shidou's hands are on your waist, pressing kisses all over your face, his giggling paired with a dopey smile. "10 more goals and I'll have the best night of my life? You've got yourself a deal."

Sae Itoshi

This man is completely absorbed in his match, he couldn't care less or so he believed. However, that unpleasant, irked expression on his face when he saw you on the screen with another girl said otherwise. He could control himself, of course, hands tucked comfortably into his pocket to hide his clenched fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm, eyes lingering on the screen for a bit too long.

You make eye contact with the girl next to you and he notices it, his jaw clenching and his body tensing up. You talk to her for a moment shaking your head firmly right after. "I have a boyfriend."

His lips part and his shoulders drop, chin dipping down. The camera pans elsewhere and he scans the audience to find you, fishing his phone out from his pocket. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, instinctively checking it to see Sae message you.

"Don't scare me like that again."

He could see his favorite, oh-so-charming grin on your face, as you rested your chin on your palm. As your fingers gently tap against your phone screen, his gaze alternates between you and his phone screen. "Yessir <3"

He chuckles softly. "I'll treat you to something special after the game, be ready"

Rin Itoshi

He clicked his tongue when he saw you on the screen. Rin was already pissed with how the match was going, but seeing you on that idiotic kiss cam - not to mention, during the break from the match -only soured his rotten mood even more. His eyes narrow, the already secure grip he had on his phone hardening.

"Switch seats" You glanced at your phone, reading the message Rin sent. "Make sure that idiot doesn't try anything."

You smirk. The camera must have caught it because Rin immediately replied back, "What's with that smile?" Your hands lay on the armrests of your chair. Instead of moving like you were advised - no, instructed to, you melt deeper into the chair, really getting yourself comfortable.

"What are you trying?" He texts with one hand and the both of you hear the emcee announce that the game is starting where it originally left off.

You noticed his game has been a little off and while you weren't sure if it was nerves or the fact that you were watching, you wanted to provide your beloved boyfriend a boost of motivation. Crossing your legs, you text Rin after skimming through the messages he spammed you. "If you don't want this guy to try anything, you better wrap this match up quickly, good luck Rinrin <3"

Tucking your phone away, you stare as Rin dashes out first. He shoots you a glare paired with a smirk and an incredulous scoff. You check your phone for one last time to prepare yourself for an exhilarating match, humming to yourself as you notice a new message from Rin.

"You better keep your eyes on me, during the match and tonight as well"

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the-heart-of-a-monster · 10 months

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For the last few months, Shadow had been on a quest to answer the last open questions about his past. Team Dark had grown undeniably close in this time, though contact to Team Sonic was practically nonexistent.

Now Shadow had made it his personal quest to follow Sonic around the world and be his, moreor less successful, emotional support - a move that no one could've seen coming! Doesn't Shadow hate Sonic? He did get the official order from GUN, but he manipulated it in Sonic's favour… And his emotions got pretty riled up in that cave!

Perhaps his motive lies deeper than he leads us to believe.

#shadow the hedgehog #thoam refs #thoam art

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chickenparm · 3 months

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almighty chickenparm are you cooking up any hsr stuff by any chance.....we are starving

i'm so-very-slowly working on an aventurine(x reader ofc) fic, but i don't know when it will be done because big parm has little motivation these days. but here's the first bit of it, go crazy, brother

---

The first time the app is suggested to him between rounds of digital slots on his phone, Aventurine thinks it’s a joke. He can’t help but laugh at the simplistic nature of the advertisement, with simple adornments that clearly lay out what the app is for. Not to mention it’s based in Penacony, and that’s a long ways off from where he’s lounging in Pier Point.

And it doesn’t cross his mind until a few weeks on, when he’s between assignments once more and passing the time with a few rounds of online blackjack. The stakes are low, practically nonexistent, so he lets his mind wander a little after the advertisement shows up again.

What a ridiculous concept, he thinks as his heel taps against the floor and his knee bounces. Professional cuddling - how silly. The only people who would solicit such services would be those who are incredibly lonely and desperate. On the screen, his score changes, showing he has a neat twenty. His thumb hovers over the button as he contemplates the risk of taking it further.

Aventurine’s turn ticks down, and the player to his right at the virtual table hits twenty-one. The jingle of the advertisement echoes faintly in his ears as he loses.

A handful of months trickle by, a few assignments, a few wins, some losses. It’s after one of these narrow wins that he counts his luck and tucks his phone against his ear with his shoulder as he listens to Topaz get dressed down by their superiors.

Topaz dodges his invitation to assist with the Penacony job, a bit more brusque than he was expecting. It’s not like they were friends, but he at least expected her to be a bit more open to it all. Her loss, he thinks as she abruptly hangs up on him and he’s left staring at the wall with his phone falling silent.

Something nags at him - it always has. But up until now, there’s been little point in picking that apart and examining what he’s so quietly caught up on. Unfortunately, as of late, it’s been crawling up his back and whispering in his ear in ways that can’t be ignored further.

Aventurine is well traveled. The IPC sends him far and wide to suit their needs. A backwater planet comes to mind, some place with a low grade and a high debt. The hotel he’d stayed at was the best he could find, built of bricks and covered with ivy that crept close enough to his window that opening it would disturb the vines.

The owner of the hotel had workers trimming back the plant, and he’d overheard him griping to said workers that the ivy was a nuisance and grew back thicker each year, no matter how often it was pruned.

Loneliness is like that, he thinks.

#hsr #aventurine #x reader #aventurine x reader #snippet #wip

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zombiezonurlawn · 4 months

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It’s utterly insane that vivziepop created a wide variety of characters with entirely different backgrounds and personalities and somehow made them all look entirely the same. You died in the 1920s? Tuxedo. You died in the 2000s? Tuxedo. You’re a fucking angel from literal heaven? Tuxedo. Not to mention the way they speak, their senses of humor, and their motivations.

Anyway with these redesigns I wanted to emphasize a variety of colors and textures to express the character’s personalities. With Charlie I thought her design worked well enough, I even let her keep the silly bowtie(she’s the only one allowed to have it now) apparently she’s supposed to be like a doll? (Does not communicate) kind of dropping that but I guess you can say she has a Barbie doll type artifice about her, I like to imagine her skin feels like plastic and her hair is like that waxy Barbie hair when you get it right out of the box.

Vaggie has legitimately one of the most confused designs I’ve ever seen. Why is she wearing a skirt with formal wear if she’s supposed to be a practical, pragmatic fighter?? Also I dropped the moth thing bc it’s DUMMMBBB she’s all function now. Made her spear head shaped like a heart bc she’s supposed to be driven like love.

Very cold take but her and Charlie’s chemistry is literally nonexistent so a quick rewrite I’d do is instead of her just being annoyed at Charlie’s optimism now she’s hopeful in the hotel as well but has lower energy than Charlie and spends most of her time trying to keep up with her and is constantly surprised by all the crazy stuff she does. Anyway this show sucks.

Ermmm this is a WIP btw I’ll talk abt Angel and Alastor and Husk and the Vs once I finish this up or if I even do lols.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #mlp redesign #ibispaintx

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duckiemimi · 8 months

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i’m curious about yuuji’s current motivations. megumi, who he wanted to save, is dead; gojo, who he spent arcs trying to save, is dead; he no longer needs to be executed because the system is practically nonexistent and sukuna’s not even tethered to him to warrant that, so what’s spurring him on now? i don’t think it’s vengeance, because he’s never been one for revenge. but i guess all of japan, and subsequently the world, is at stake. i think what’s keeping him going is his self-sacrificing tendencies and his weak grasp on a will to live, which could mean that after this battle, we might not even see him for a while…

but maybe during the fight, we’ll get to see small moments of introspection (fingers crossed) and perhaps a flashback to whatever mysterious plan they organized during the timeskip. and then…and then maybe, if he manages to survive the fight, if he makes it to the end with everyone else, he’ll want to keep living for himself. maybe. somehow. hopefully, hopefully, hopefully.

#itadori yuji #yuuji #jjk #jjk 238 #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #mention of death #if i need to tag anything else let me know #sorry in advance

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imogenkol · 6 days

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— WIP WEDNESDAY

getting the jump on this week’s wip wednesday hoping it motivates me 🤞

during Bix’s recovery post-ferrix, her and Imogen share a bit of an old ritual

“May I?” Imogen asked as she motioned towards her.

It took a moment for Bix to understand what she was asking permission for, but once she realized Imogen offered assistance with her frustratingly unkempt hair, the mechanic gave a quiet nod.

Bix always approached her thick, unruly hair with a wide-toothed comb rather than a brush. It prevented the curls from poofing out like a cloud of smoke. Just a few passes through the strands after she woke up tamed her hair enough to braid. Imogen – with her straight silky hair – seemed to know this. Without a comb worthy of the job on hand, she carefully ran her fingers over Bix’s scalp to loosen the tangles. To receive such warm, gentle touches caused Bix to shut her eyes and drink it in as her shoulders involuntarily slumped with a quiet exhale.

A moment of peace. A moment of genuine comfort.

Then Imogen parted her hair down the middle, sectioning it off over both of her shoulders. She started with the left side first. Bix slowly opened her weary eyes to observe the bounty hunter’s hands begin to methodically part her hair into three more sections before she weaved the strands.

The pattern was simple, nowhere near the intricate weave that Bix used to practice nearly every single morning before she opened the yard, but the fact Imogen knew how to braid at all kind of surprised her. Bix had never seen her hair in any style even resembling that of a braid, even when it had been pinned back.

With a small leather cord, Imogen tied off the first braid and went to work on the other. Bix took a few moments to study her like she never has before. The crease between her eyebrows had relaxed despite the utter focus in the woman’s intense, steel gray eyes. Bix followed the angle of her nose down to her slightly parted lips. She missed their softness. She missed the way her breath would come rushing out between them.

A part of her wondered if she would ever get to feel them the way she has always longed to feel them – tenderly, lovingly, without reservation. Bix wanted a kiss that felt the way Imogen’s hands did running through her hair.

“I hope that is… sufficient,” Imogen announced in an almost bashful tone once she leaned back.

Bix blinked out of her stupor and glanced down at the finished braids. While they were not done by her own hand, they would have served her well enough on a work day. Imogen’s efforts made her feel a little bit more… herself, however fleeting that feeling may be. “Thank you.”

“I admit it has been quite some time since I have braided.”

“Where’d you learn how?”

Imogen went still. Bix caught the subtle twitch of her upper lip that would happen whenever she struck a nerve, only now it hadn’t been intentional. She expected the bounty hunter to ignore the question at best and retaliate with a bitter retort at worst, but Imogen instead met her gaze and the twitch turned into a small smile.

“I once wore one. A small braid over my right shoulder.” She pulled forward a strand of hair from behind her ear as if to show the mechanic the nonexistent braid she spoke of. Bix could still picture what it might have looked like. Now that Imogen described it, she thought perhaps she recalled tales told in her early childhood of young Jedi wearing such braids. “Of course, the rest of my hair was much shorter then. All the way above my shoulders. I hated it.”

Bix let out a short, amused breath. However, unlike Imogen, she found herself rather fond of the mental image she had painted in her mind — that of a young girl with short hair and a braid over her right shoulder, scowl present, those cold eyes as striking as a bolt of lightning.

tag list (ask to be added or removed!):

@adelaidedrubman @florbelles @tommyarashikage @simonxriley @voidika

@kyberinfinitygems @voidbuggg @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @socially-awkward-skeleton

@aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree

@cassietrn @jackiesarch @a-treides @shellibisshe @loriane-elmuerto

@katsigian @captastra @simplegenius042 @theelderhazelnut @g0dspeeed

@strangefable @jacobseed

#oc insp: imogen kol #ship insp: if i had a heart #just thinking about how braids hold significance for them both in different ways 🥲#when will my writing energy return from the war #I say as I post this sleep deprived at 12:30am

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skysquid22 · 10 months

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In Mine’s backstory in the RRGO story he doesn’t take Daigo’s warnings or authority seriously until Daigo reveals he shares the same sentiment that life is more valuable than money and saves him from his own actions. And……. Augh the little parallels between that scene at the docks and the end of Yakuza 3…….

What defines Mine's motivation is that he's struggling between two different ideals--believing that he can find someone to put his trust in vs believing that everyone is a liar who's only after their own gain. Mostly, he's acting on the latter with his actions and thinking. Seeking power in monetary gain with how he rises in the Tojo Clan ranks in his RRGO backstory and all of his actions during Yakuza 3. Kiryu calls him out on this method and Mine refuses it since he wants to believe in that other ideal. It is very, very apparent that Mine is desperate for someone he can trust for once in his life. He's searching for that answer in his backstory and he's at the point where joining organized crime is a good idea AND he nearly puts his faith in fucking Kanda. [All these excerpts are from the translation I linked above.]

But later, Kanda abandons him using the excuse that the younger brother sacrifices himself for the older brother to live which pretty much seals the idea that the bonds of the yakuza aren’t true trust between others. Factor in Mine saying his belief that their lives are more valuable than money and Kanda immediately valuing the money and the time/effort it took to make than money over Mine… it’s a complete and utter rug pull. One that he knew not to put much value in but did anyway because he wanted to believe in someone more than believe that people only care about power. Who is Mine but two wolves trying to kill each other and the winner dictates his mental and emotional state.

Wolf B won this round and Mine (implied?) doesn’t fight back and just outright asks the second acting Nishkiyama patriarch to kill him faster.

And the same process more or less happens at the end of Y3. He’s losing his reason to live only it’s worse now since he committed himself more to Daigo than he ever did to Kanda. He’s not going to try again and look for an ineffable bond because he had that with Daigo and it’s gone—the thing he’s been searching for all his life and joined the yakuza to seek becomes completely nonexistent to him. All that's left of his beliefs is the one he's been leaning on since he was a kid, that life doesn’t have value over money and everyone lies.

But just like at the docks, Daigo comes back and proves him wrong.

At the docks, Daigo proves to him that there is such thing as a bond you can fully believe in. And on the roof, Daigo wakes up, which completely upends the entire reason Mine fully adopted his nihilistic thinking and killed the optimist inside him. Kiryu was able to get Mine to understand that his thinking was completely wrong, leaving him lost and like his world had collapsed because it did practically. Both core tenements of himself were burned to ashes. With Daigo waking up, Mine realizes that he can still believe in another person.

Before he was ready to die thinking he was ‘right’. At the end, he knows he’s wrong, but he doesn’t believe he’s deserving of that bond anymore. Instead of rediscovering his reason to live, he just found a reason to die. It hurts… I imagine that if Mine was successfully talked down the vibes probably would’ve been similar to this scene in RGGO: Recognition of mistakes from both parties, Mine’s apology (which he does on the roof), Daigo offering a solution, Mine affirming his kinder core belief, and Daigo believing in Mine (ALSO happens on the roof).

Last point on Mine’s state of thinking and the parallels between his origin story and the events of Y3—Daigo straight up tells Mine that his thinking that people only lie to each other and care about power will get him killed. I love foreshadowing when writing a prequel. ALSO crazier to me is after Mine meets Daigo for the first time he’s disappointed in him because “He’s the same as me. Or how I once was…” which says so fucking much about his emotional state at that time AND his relationship to Daigo. The quote is specifically referring to the family bonds within the yakuza and how those outweigh the pursuit of power through monetary gains. Mine constantly assumes that the world is shit, thus acts accordingly to protect himself, but is clinging desperately to the idea that he can come to trust someone. A belief he’s so desperate for he joins the yakuza and nearly forces his answer as Kanda. Mine finally finds it with Daigo, I wonder if he would still consider them the same as one another. (I suppose this kinda supports the idea that Daigo could be Mine, but chose to live life with faith 'forward' rather than assume the worst of people.)

Daigo quite literally brings out the best in Mine. He’s not only Mine’s reason to live... Daigo is Mine’s proof that putting faith in trust is the right answer.

To recap:

#yakuza #yakuza 3 #rgg #mine yoshitaka #daigo dojima #minedai #might as well tag that #skyspeaks #this was written for myself but y'all can enjoy my brainworms too #reference #for my own purposes

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writingraven · 2 years

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Hello, would you be able to post tips on how to start a pirate au? This is my first time making one.

【 Hi! My tip for any au (or any story, really) is simply research. It’s important to understand the dynamics and realism. So I put together some pirate knowledge for you! I’ll probably make more posts on this soon. I’m thinking pirate terms, ship terms, common weapons, things like that. If you’d be interested, let me know. Hope this helps, and good luck on your story (: 】

The Pirate Life

warnings: violence

✶

↳ Drinks

⇝ portable drinking water was hard to come by so many ships carried an abundance of wine, beer, and rum

⇝ a famous mariner drink is grog (sugar-water, lime juice, and rum) which was known to prevent scurvy

⇝ another is bombo/bumboo (sugar-water, nutmeg, and rum) or rumfustian (water, raw eggs, sherry, gin, beer)

↳ Eye Patches

⇝ not only worn because someone lost an eye

⇝ worn to keep one eye adjusted to darkness

⇝ when fighting/raiding below deck they could switch the eye patch instead of waiting for vision to adjust

↳ Flags

⇝ not all pirate flags were black with a skull and crossbones

⇝ most pirate flags were plainly black or red (completely red flags were known as the most aggressive)

⇝ if there were designs, many adorned hourglasses to represent the inevitability of death

↳ Freetime

⇝ when not working, pirates often played cards or dice (although, gambling was against the rules on some ships), sang, danced, partied, etc.

⇝ stopping at ports was a fairly regular occurrence so they could take a break from the harsh sea to sell goods, repair the ship, and of course find women

↳ Life of Crime

⇝ sure, some people became pirates for the life of crime, but the overwhelming majority were simply sailors who abandoned their jobs due to horrendous working conditions

⇝ pirates were treated far better by their captains than navy men

⇝ there were even periods of time where pirating wasn’t illegal — governments would enlist pirates during wartime to plunder enemy ships. these pirates were labeled ‘privateers’ and legally allowed to operate under ‘letters of marque’ which basically made them military contractors

↳ Longevity

⇝ pirate careers were a few years long tops (even the famous blackbeard only lasted two years)

⇝ many were killed or injured especially because medical facilities were practically nonexistent

↳ Positions

⇝ well-run ships had a clear division of labor

⇝ positions included captain, quartermaster, boatswain, carpenter, cooper, gunner, navigator, etc.

⇝ the captain had absolute command during battle and chose where/when to go somewhere

⇝ the quartermaster oversaw ship operations and divided the loot

⇝ pirates were not as chaotic as media portrays — they were actually quite democratic

⇝ but the illusion of being brutal would be beneficial for plundering as the possibility of surrender was increased

⇝ most pirates were illiterate, but there were quite a few who actually came from higher social classes

↳ Raids

⇝ looting gold/silver was much less common than looting supplies (food, drink, candles, navigational tools, repairing equipment, medicine, etc.)

⇝ most pirates didn’t want to kill people — they would steal the goods and leave the crew (or let the crew join them) especially because the bounties weren’t usually worth it

↳ Rules

⇝ most pirate ships took their rules very seriously, with punishments being severe

⇝ common rules were against lying, stealing amongst themselves, fighting on board, gambling, etc.

⇝ walking the plank was not a common punishment (it actually rarely ever happened) — punishments were usually flogging, dunking, tying to the mast, hanging, marooning, or keelhauling

✶

Famous Pirates to Check Out for Motivation: Stede Bonnet, Anne Bonny, Francis Drake, Calico Jack, William Kidd, Henry Morgan, Mary Read, Bartholomew Roberts, Edward Teach (Blackbeard)

#writing #writing tips #story ideas #reference #knowledge #writing reference #pirate prompts #pirates #pirate au #writeblr #writer things

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zahri-melitor · 4 months

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Hot take moment:

I think it’s fascinating in terms of how his runs are definitive of Tim and Jason’s characters during New 52, that Scott Lobdell’s long term influence on Tim as as a character is practically nonexistent to the point it’s not even referenced, while he’s probably still the architect of at least 50% of modern Jason characterisation.

There are solid structural reasons why of course (for Tim it was simply a case of ‘no we’ll reinstate the previous 22 years of characterisation thanks’ v everything about Jason’s varying characterisations and motivations) but it’s really interesting that about all that stuck for Tim is people assuming that Tim and Jason are close as siblings.

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sl-walker · 21 days

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Preview...

...from the next chapter of Stardust, which will go out at some point after I finish it. Until then, please enjoy this opener to an already wildly self-indulgent chapter.

“I maintain that this would be easier in a pool,” Ted said, though given his tone, he was kvetching to kvetch -- his term -- and was perfectly content with where they were.

Booster had never been in any body of water larger than a hot tub or a cold water post-game bath before, so obviously he’d wanted to jump into Lake Michigan. It was upwards of 90 out and it wasn’t the dry heat of El Paso; this heat clung to the body, making clothes stick in wildly uncomfortable ways and in insanely uncomfortable places, and so naturally he wanted to wear as little as possible and the best place to get away with wearing very little was the beach. The incredible amount of blue and water was just a bonus.

And that wasn’t even taking into account a Ted wearing nothing but swim goggles and trunks. Which meant this could well be either Booster’s very personal heaven or his very personal hell. Unless there was a weird personal purgatory where you were being tortured with the appealing sight of the unaware object of your affections?

Hell if he knew. There was a reason he body-swerved religion like it was a wharf rat hissing from the storm drain.

He'd thought about going out to some of the Long Island beaches before, maybe as an afternoon trip, but the ocean intimidated him every bit as much as he was fascinated by it. By his time, the oceans were very barren; mostly, they existed as giant vats to grow specialized algae, which in turn became the building blocks of most food sources. Storms could rage, but the vast bumpers and floats and dividers kept the surface anywhere near shore fairly smooth; to let it get wild would be to risk starving some large portion of the roughly two billion people inhabiting Earth at any given time.

In this time, waves roared ashore and smashed against rocks and the first time he’d stood on an unsheltered walk next to an unfettered ocean had left him so awed that he didn’t even remember the walk back to the motel. His face was windburned and he was cold enough that he took the warmest shower he could coax out of the motel’s hot-water heaters, and then sat shivering wrapped in the cheap blankets after.

But even as he did, he was still reliving the reverberation of water pounding the shore, a low and bone-shaking boom that felt like it changed the very rhythm of his heart right through the soles of his shoes. He was still tasting salt, flecks of seawater spray flung by the wind, long after it had to have been impossible to.

Lake Michigan was cheerful by comparison to that; the waves were nonexistent today, and given the rental Ted had chosen, the largely private beach was likewise quiet. Down the way, one of the various public beaches that lined the North Shore was busier -- Jaime, Brenda and Paco had abandoned them to go investigate the more social scene, in fact -- but there had been no talk of Booster and Ted going with.

If one was going to half-ass some swimming lessons, then it couldn’t be a better day for it, or a better location. And, ulterior motives about getting to see the man in trunks aside, Booster wouldn’t have wanted them from anyone but Ted anyway.

Booster shrugged, drawing his hands through the water in a wide arc around himself, feeling the resistance against his palms. “Easier, sure, but way less pretty,” he said, as he pretended with award-winning composure that he was referring to the lake and not his oblivious instructor. Though the lake was also pretty.

“Yeah, but with a pool you can practice kicking by holding onto the side. For an example.” Ted looked around; he had so much sunscreen on his face and shoulders that there was a glaze of it left on his skin. Not enough to hide the birthmark on the back of one shoulder. He smelled like artificial coconut, which was definitely not Booster’s favorite scent, and Booster still would have happily buried his face in Ted’s neck for a snootful. “I mean, out here all you have to hold onto is me,” Ted added.

Booster stared at him for a second or two, then swallowed down a groan and just let himself slide below the surface because it was that or die right there.

He was laying sort-of on the floor of Lake Michigan in a speedo and goggles and the guy he was absolutely head over heels for was mostly naked and this was the single worst idea he’d ever had in his life.

But, he had to allow as he stared up through the water at the distorted image of his best friend looking down at him in what was undoubtedly a bemused fashion, there were definitely worse ways to go.

#ted kord #michael carter #blue beetle #booster gold #stardust

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atomarium · 8 months

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I don't personally understand the motivation of the ancients. The whole plot of Rain World revolves around the cycle of death and life. The cycle provides guarantees that whatever happens, you will still live. This security is not a curse; it's a gift. Just imagine what you could do! There are no risks too great, no sacrifices too great, no goal unachievable. If, in the end, everything comes back, why would you want to escape this security?

The motivation for that stated in the game is primarily boredom or tiredness. But if we can approximately say that a cycle is at most a week, and a couple of thousand weeks is indeed a lot, there is still so much to do! You could learn every language, study all the sciences, help others, build things, maybe even be friends with everyone at some point. Everyone can explore their interests without fear of time or death. And in their society, even without fear of hunger or danger. Perhaps they wouldn't want to kill themselves if they didn't eat gravel and starve themselves?

Martyrs tried to achieve Ascension, which, as far as I know, is STILL LIFE. You still experience things, it's just in a different plane. It's not absolute nothingness, nonexistence of yourself like in our world.

It is also clear to me that the ancients weren't the brightest and the most curious. We know that other stars exist, and there is, at the very least, the moon. You can't say none of them looked up at the sky and never wondered what is up there and how it all works. And tell me that they just "didn't bother." The fact that they didn't even try finding out if void sea existed on other planets! What if their planet was special? If so, then why? Do they know how the world started? Do they know why the cycle exists? Why didn't they want to know the universes beauty and secrets ?

If they are capable of building enormous godlike creations that aren't machines nor are quite organisms and making thousands if not millions of them, and capable of producing practically infinite amounts of energy, they surely possess the intelligence and the ability to travel among stars! And they don't even know the existence of void worms. Or what is the void sea itself. Or even why is it there.

But yet they create organisms who are themselves trapped in a cycle to serve only them and only their purpose. If they hated life so much, why didn't they try to make it better? And not only for themselves, but for every creature. They clearly have the ability to. You could make artificial bliss, relive your memory forever in a loop, exist in a constant state of happiness. Or if you are tired of it, why not just go to sleep forever in a cryo chamber? Why not build monuments, art, wonders of your own achievement? They could have done so much, brought so much peace and happiness to the world and its creatures. But instead, they abandoned their universe and built their own gods, the iterators. Whose only purpose was to find a way to kill them, reliably. Bash their head at a great problem, countless times. At the problem that they themselves created. Because those who sinned were afraid to ascend the old way. Out of fear of being stuck here forever, forced to love this world as an echo. They essentially made their children, their creations slaves with only one purpose, and in the process, doomed the ecosystem of their own world. This is relatable to humanity in some sorts, but at least we are curious; we try finding out answers to questions that may not even be answerable.

But hey at least we now have scugs.

I may be misinformed about some things, wrong about others. I would apriciate any comments remarks or additions to this.

Also to those who have red everything so far.

May the iterators have mercy on you.

#rainworld #rain world #196 #rainworld downpour #rainworld iterator #rain world downpour

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causenessus · 8 months

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I Love You. | Oikawa Tooru

oikawa tooru x reader

she/her pronouns

song recc: warm by dre'es (feat. mia)

word count: 1009 words

again really just written for me so grammar is nonexistent and idk what was happening by the end </3

(´◡`)

" i do not resemble your other lovers, my lady. should another give you a cloud, i give you rain. should he give you a lantern, i will give you the moon. should he give you a branch, i will give you the trees. and if he gives you a ship i will give you the journey. " nizar qabbani.

"I love you."

What a hard sentence to say. Three words that meant nothing and everything.

It was used so often that some said it without even thinking about it.

For others, it was the hardest three words to say.

The romanticists found it hard not to say it to everyone they knew, for they knew that some would leave out one of the words.

For the hurt, removing just one word helped.

A single letter changed all meaning. When it's removed from the statement, all burden goes with it. No longer is someone held to the expectation of being capable of a feeling, either giving or reciprocating it; from "I love you" to "Love you."

The burden originates in an environment filled with high expectations.

Such as in a household, maybe, where every day someone is told "I love you" and expects to hear it back.

Growing up with that tradition removed all meaning of the words for her. She felt she didn't know what love was.

Friends had come into her life who she thought had shown her what love was, but then they would break her heart and leave her unsure once again.

But in junior school, she experienced love. She saw it in a club of boys who loved volleyball.

Love was a devotion; something they were passionate about. Something they returned to even when it hurt because it was home. Love was something they found and knew, rather than made.

Originally, she had just spent time around the club, helping out with no real commitment to it. It was her way of making sure she kept herself safe while still caring for others.

But as secondary school came around, she knew she was committed, whether she said it out loud or not.

She could say she had gone to their junior games, standing on the side of the court rather than in the stands just to help out, but underneath that lie, they were all connected and they knew it. They were a family, different from the one at home.

Different from the one who argued every night, but still watched her leave every day, passively telling her "I love you, [Y/N]."

The conditioned response would get stuck in her throat, but it was always easier to lie than argue.

That was not her family; those were strangers who lived under the same roof as her.

But she found her home in volleyball. In the game and the fellowship, she found the place where she was warmly accepted.

No one was more fit for the job when they reached secondary school. Aoba Johsai's volleyball club had been looking for a manager and she agreed. Everything was set in place on the first day of practice when they saw her.

Oikawa. Iwaizumi. Matsukawa. Hanamaki.

She worked with the team for two years, seeing the team grow stronger and third years leave until they were the seniors.

How long had they been together now?

Long enough that there was a connection between them that could never be broken. Different from the friendships she had previously had, this was love. She had found and known them, and they would have recognized each other in any life.

She connected to one of them in particular more than the others.

He was often brushed off as a player, but he went so much deeper than that. He was the first one she had seen in the junior school club, and the moment they met, she saw the fire in his eyes; the moving passion and feelings for his team and sport.

There had been an intimate connection between them that had never dwindled since then. When she saw his motivation, there was a pull in her heart. She wanted to see him succeed, too. She had been there to grasp his hand and pull him from the court floor through victories and losses, and from there they had kept holding onto each other.

When they had finally admitted feeling for each other, hardly anyone was surprised.

But nonetheless, her childhood made it hard to express.

Tooru was quick to tell her. Even before either had said it, they had shown their love through countless gifts and actions. But to say it freely without any worry, he was all over her.

He was coming up from behind her, embracing her and telling her he loved her. He was walking her home and kissing her at the door, telling her he loved her. He was holding the door for her, smiling and telling her he loved her.

And she wanted to say it back.

But every time, it got caught in her chest. It all still felt unreal to her. There was a protective response in her automatically triggered every time she heard the words. A defensive wall constructed itself around her, telling her to respond and leave out the "I." But then she'd remember who she was saying it to and knew she meant it. She always felt a step away from being able to say it, but without the strength to take that last stride, she could only respond with a kiss. He always understood, though, and he didn't ask for more.

But she wanted to say it, and she wanted to say it first. She did not want to reply with an "I love you too" but tell him she did.

It was a night when they lay in bed together. In dead darkness, facing each other, holding hands underneath the sheet. Another hand was tracing scars from her childhood as they talked meaninglessly about them.

That's how it had been throughout their time together; pulling each other from the murky waters of their past and looking forward together. It was the nonverbal touches that still projected his love that made her heart swell and take that last step.

She squeezed his hand and brought herself closer to his chest, bringing the other to run through the back of his hair. "Tooru," she said.

"I love you."

#oikawa tooru x reader #tooru oikawa #haikyuu #haikyuu oneshot

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