#my journey in writing
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A piece of advice often given to writers is "just write; you can always edit later."
It's good advice, but with a caveat: you can't always edit later. You have to know how to edit.
Editing is a different skill from writing. Only recently have I managed to edit my own writing; up until the last few months it was either write it correctly the first time around or get a beta to edit it for me/tell me what to fix.
And as I'm editing/rewriting a scene right now, I wanted to share with you some tips I've picked up from practice and other resources.
A. STYLE
- Run grammar and spell check. If you haven't already. Personally, I like to look these things up as I write, but I suppose some of you might prefer to write your stream of consciousness first and edit later. Whatever works. (Just please run your check at some point. It's crucial.)
- Read out loud. You can find from missing commas to typos to stilted dialogue if you check how your writing rolls off the tongue.
- Count your adjectives, your adverbs and your -ings. Not to keep score, obviously; but these are parts of speech that are best used in moderation. If there are three adverbs in one line of text, you might need to eliminate one or two.
- Use your thesaurus. Again, in moderation. Look for oft-repeated or very trite words and replace them. If there are no working synonyms and you're still being too repetitive, consider a full rephrase.
B. CONTENT
- Be prepared to lose content. You might be forced to edit out a turn of phrase you like or a background detail that's not necessary for your story. Make your peace with it. Do try to work it in if you like it, but don't do it at the expense of your story. This is the cornerstone of editing.
- Don't hard delete. Keep your previous drafts. They may come in handy.
- Apply the writing tips you're given. For instance, "show, don't tell". Look for instances of telling that could be improved by showing, and rework. (Not going to get into an exhausting list of these.)
- Check the purpose of the scene. Every scene you write has a purpose, be it plot-wise, characterization-wise, setting up the scene for something or whatever else - otherwise you wouldn't be writing it. Read the scene again: does it do what you want it to do? If not, focus on your goal: what would be another way to achieve it? And work from there.
- Count your dialogue, introspection, and descriptions. This depends on your style too, but sometimes the problem with a scene may be that it's too heavy on one or the other. Often, I may not be in my best writing shape, but a dialogue pops in my head; I write it down to use as my guide, then when it's editing time, I add the details around it.
- Reread your previous scenes. It will help you get more in touch with your story and style and perhaps give you ideas such as what you can address that you haven't already.
- Mimic your favourite writers. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If something doesn't work for you, think: How would X write it? What would they tell me to change if they read it? Don't worry, you won't get nearly close enough for it to be a problem. 😋
- Be prepared to rewrite. Sometimes editing just doesn't cut it; you have to rewrite from scratch. Paste your previous draft where you can't see it and start again.
C. GENERAL
- Take some distance. Look at your writing again tomorrow, or next week, if you can afford to. I know when my writing is fresh I am too attached to it. A week later, I am much more likely to edit out a sentence that doesn't work even if I really like the fancy verb I chose to use in it.
- Be aware of time and circumstance. Not all days are good for editing. You may be too tired one evening; you may need another cup of coffee one morning; you may be too aware of your pending chores one day. Don't force it; give it another shot when you're in a better state of mind.
- Write down your comments. Too often, we feel something is not good but we don't know why. Write down your comments as if you'd explain to someone what you don't like about it, then come back to it.
- Get a beta. Boy, do I know it's hard! But a good beta is a (all right, figurative) life-saver. Ask around, or ask a friend. I'm not saying don't post unless you get a beta, but I'm telling you it's not a shame to ask for help. I literally never post without at least getting someone to read my work first, even if all they are equipped to say is "It was good, I liked it."
- Beta for others. It's easier to spot what needs fixing in a piece that's not your own. You don't have to be super experienced, catch every single mistake, or produce a professional result; just read and comment on what feels off, explaining why (so that it's easier for the writer to know how to fix it). It's good practice, and you help someone.
I hope this will be of use to some of you! Happy editing!
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because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.
you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.
you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.
don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.
if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.
you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:
how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!
aren't you happy yet?
#almost wrote the champagne line as ''effervescent'' but legit could not write it without saying ''effervescent like a snail''#ah tumblr...#writeblr#warm up#idk . having trouble writing rn#ps i don't like to talk about it . it is my medical information. but before you ask. yes this is about being on the spectrum#i really don't like when ppl make my writing about how im [whatever ID]. i want it to ring true for the people who it rings true for#i don't want it to be like ''awwwww look at this person!!! she's the EXCEPTION!!! :)" .....#no.... not really.....#idk something gross happens whenever i admit to certain conditions and i turn into like inspiration p*rnography#like yes they actually let us use keyboards these days#furthermore i just... dont feel comfortable talking about this part of me. i had too bad of a childhood. adhd is one thing...#this one im like. still coming to terms with. which is like. my own journey.#idk. just please be kind. some things are more private than others. this one feels private to me.#i do not know how to help others w/this . and i do not know how to help myself. i will talk about it if im ever ready. idk if that will#actually ever happen#ty in advance i love u im kissing you we are kissing somewhere on the spectrum
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changes and trends in horror-genre films are linked to the anxieties of the culture in its time and place. Vampires are the manifestation of grappling with sexuality; aliens, of foreign influence. Horror from the Cold War is about apathy and annihilation; classic Japanese horror is characterised by “nature’s revenge”; psychological horror plays with anxieties that absorbed its audience, like pregnancy/abortion, mental illness, femininity. Some horror presses on the bruise of being trapped in a situation with upsetting tasks to complete, especially ones that compromise you as a person - reflecting the horrors and anxieties of capitalism etc etc etc. Cosmic horror is slightly out of fashion because our culture is more comfortable with, even wistful for, “the unknown.” Monster horror now has to be aware of itself, as a contingent of people now live in the freedom and comfort of saying “I would willingly, gladly, even preferentially fuck that monster.” But I don’t know much about films or genres: that ground has been covered by cleverer people.
I don’t actually like horror or movies. What interests me at the moment is how horror of the 2020s has an element of perception and paying attention.
Multiple movies in one year discussed monsters that killed you if you perceived them. There are monsters you can’t look at; monsters that kill you instantly if you get their attention. Monsters where you have to be silent, look down, hold still: pray that they pass over you. M Zombies have changed from a hand-waved virus that covers extras in splashy gore, to insidious spores. A disaster film is called Don’t Look Up, a horror film is called Nope. Even trashy nun horror sets up strange premises of keeping your eyes fixed on something as the devil GETS you.
No idea if this is anything. (I haven’t seen any of these things because, unfortunately, I hate them.) Someone who understands better than me could say something clever here, and I hope they do.
But the thing I’m thinking about is what this will look like to the future, as the Victorian sex vampires and Cold War anxieties look to us. I think they’ll have a little sympathy, but they probably won’t. You poor little prey animals, the kids will say, you were awfully afraid of facing up to things, weren’t you?
#this is the sort of observation I make here that people#go off and write their thesis about#so while I’m not expecting to be the first or cleverest person to say this#if you do use it as a springboard#tell me if you get a good grade ok?#I’ll be tremendously proud of you#like if you take a shitpost and use it to craft deep attentive thought on something important#I just think that’s probably the most noble use of a human brain#it makes me want to take off my hat and slam it to the ground in inexpressible emotion#it’s a cowboy hat btw#and I say something like GOLDURN IT THAT KID SURE HAS DELIVERED.#ok so don’t deny me this#especially if you correct me after a long research journey#GOLDURN IT THE KID IS RIGHT!
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I have added a quirky comment here for the last year and a half, however now… I have no words.
jk I have all these words 👇
I know it is very bitter sweet, but this is the end of Reconnecting. Thank you all for coming along on this journey with me. I plan on making a behind the scenes video on my YT sometime soon. Feel free to send any asks you have I want to answer them all!
Please know I am not going to dissapear! I still plan on making content consistently, and my original comic RULE 5 is already underway, and if you’d like I’m certainly not against writing some exposition fics for Reconnecting 💜
masterpost
Prev (3::8) / This is the End 💜
#art#my art#deltarune#reconnecting#reconnecting update#here it is#you’ll never know the vessels real name hehehehhe#anwayyyyy#please send an ask I’m planning on answering them all#man I literally cried so much doing this#this story is so close to my heart and so much actually about me and my journey with my mental condition#I feel like a new chapter of my life just started with this one’s end#ANYHOO NO MORE SAPPY#thank you all for reading#I STILL TAKE COMMISSIONS#also I have really cute headcanons so like- ask for little stories I’ll write em#rule 5 is coming!!! I have a ton of concept art#and yknow I’ll still draw deltarune shenanigans#*SOBBING*
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It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt.4 (final)
a/n: we did it Joe! this chapter officially marks the first ever series i've completed lmao. thank you for all the support on this fic, every like, every comment, every out-of-pocket anon ask.
Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content (like...fr this time), Blood and Violence, Manipulation.
Summary: After the wedding, Husband and Wife work out the intricate web of their relationship.
Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3
Gurney looks at you as if you're already dead.
You hide from his gaze, ducking behind pillars, whenever you can hear his footsteps. It's truly depressing, the way your mentor shakes his head, as if, instead of looking at you, he's looking at a coffin. You suppose he might be right, he's the one with the most experience in the Harkonnen area. He's fought them, dined with them, seen their customs through and through. And now, his dutiful little student is about to be thrown into the very same world, he has relayed to you as a nightmarish fairytale. Still, a little misplaced optimism wouldn't kill him. Or just, a sliver of hope, an inclination that you might survive this.
The day of your wedding rolls upon you like an oceanic storm, all chaos and rumbling.
Here you sit, your bones locked with nerves, as the servants pack away your things. A futile thing, you muse to yourself. It's highly doubtful the Harkonnens will let you keep any personal items back from Caladan. They'll mold you into their image, until all your hair naturally falls out. The thought would make you laugh, but here's a servant, placing your jewelry into a case, which lands in a bag, which will be transported to the Harkonnen ship by the end of the day.
Your room, the place you've spent all your life in, slowly becomes more and more barren.
The closet stands empty, so do the drawers. All your trinkets are swiftly transported away until you're left alone in your wedding dress, the only familiar thing between the hollow ribs of your life's sanctuary. Wishing you could fold the entirety of the castle, with the stables, and the horses, and the cliffs, and throw it into the final suitcase, so you can open it up in times of turmoil, and breathe in the familiar scents. You need to leave, right now. Sitting like this, wrenches a dangerous numbness out of your chest. And you can't be allowed to dissapear into yourself. You're an Atreides, you shall wear your pain with dignity, as per your Mother's wishes.
Your wedding dress swishes around you, as you stand up from your bed. It's much more classy, and less of a chiffon catastrophe, than your engagement dress, a welcome change. The veil is embroidered with light crystals and metal plating. It falls heavily over your face, and jingles when you move. By all intents and purposes, it is a dream dress. A dress you'd like to wear for a wedding of your own, a wedding with some dashing gentleman. A gentleman, which in your most private of dreams, has the face of Duncan Idaho, with silver rings braided into his hair.
Instead, you're left with this monster, so alien and cold. A beast at the center of the maze.
The bull looks at you from the wall. Its horns, smeared with your Grandfather's blood, curl grotesquely into the ceiling. The head is mounted above the doors to the library, a grim reminder of his spectacular death. As a child, you'd spend hours, standing right here, at the entrance, staring at the animal's head. You've always wondered, whether it were the lights playing tricks on your mind, or you saw a shadow of pride in the bull's eyes.
Did it know who was its victim? The leader of one of the most important Houses in all known universe laid dead at its feet. Did it know what sort of spectacle it produced? What destruction of hubris? You suppose it couldn't, it was an animal, after all. A headless creature, hung on a wall. Still, you stare at it, just like you used to, trying to decipher your own fate from its cold, dead eyes.
After all, there will be a spectacle, a life-long fight stands ahead of you. Giedi Prime shall be your arena, dead and cold, covered in black. And every single Harkonnen will be your bull, their mere presence a deathly danger to your being. It took one bull to end your Grandfather, you dread to think how many it'll take to end you. There will be blood, you're sure of it. And if things were allowed to go your way, it would flow in rivers upon rivers, through the industrial halls of Giedi Prime. You'd have the entire planet drowned in their blood. Your cursed betrothed, the Baron, the fucking Emperor if you had to.
The bull laughs at your quiet hate, beady eyes bearing down upon you in an imaginary display of indifference. You huff, cheeks reddened, insides twisted and burning.
That's how your Father finds you. Enchanted by a once living instrument of death.
He hasn't spoken to you, since your betrothed has arrived, not really. Not like you used to talk. A way to shield himself, you supposed, from the Emperor's order, which will soon enough take his only Daughter away from him. This was your superpower. You could fish out signs of love in every action.
- Your Mother hates that thing - he comments, as he stands next to you, eyes looking up at the bull.
- I don't blame her, the sight is quite disturbing. - you reply evenly.
You've missed him, more than you can possibly explain with words. But teary displays of affections were below you, especially since you're trying to distance yourself, rise above your body, float right out of your head. Perhaps it'll hurt less that way. Duke Leto Atreides turns to you, and for the first time in a month, you recognize your Father behind this statue of authority. He looks troubled, for lack of a better word. There's much more gray on his brow and the lines of his face are darker, harsher.
- I came to give you something - he announces, producing a small object out of the pocket of his trousers.
It's harder than you thought, tearing your gaze away from the bull, but you manage, your eyes landing on a figurine in your Father's hands. Your heart stops, as you recognize the blackened stone, polished to perfection. On a flat disc stands a figure of a Matador, proud and posed. Next to him, a bull, ready to strike. It's cold to the touch, when you take it from your Father, ridges of the small sculpture digging into your palm.
Jumping in front of danger, for better or worse. Your head starts to hurt.
- Father - the sound of your shaking voice carries through the corridor - How will I ever survive this?
By the way Duke Leto Atreides sucks in a sharp breath, you can deduce the answer. And what a sad answer it is.
Your Father steps closer, gathering your trembling hands in his, the warmth of his embrace engulfing you like the first sun rays of spring. He squeezes your fingers, tightening your own hold on the small figurine, and his eyes are so incredibly sad, you're convinced they could make any heart in the universe weep.
- With courage - he says - and grandiose.
Like a true Matador would.
***
Your bull stands completely still.
His pale skin creates a beautiful contrast against the ever present darkness of the Harkonnen ship. It's so much different from your native fleet, all sleek and black, and efficient. Terrifying, but at the same time, strangely beautiful.
The both of you watch, as the hatch is being pulled up, slowly but surely obscuring all sight of your home planet. Of your family, standing by the docking station like a funeral parade. It's only when you can no longer see them, your life sealed with a click of finality, does your betrothed, now husband, move.
His hand grasps your upper shoulder, and you jump at the sudden contact. Your confused gaze is completely ignored, as the man drags you through the ship, taking large, hasty steps.
Hairless faces swish past you, all so similar to each other, you're worried you'll never figure out who is who. The corridors of the ship wind and turn like a merciless labyrinth, a realization daunting on you, that you will never be able to find your way in this place.
Suddenly, you're faced with a black door, which opens as soon as your husband walks up to it. His grip tightens and he basically throws you forward, watching you stumble through the entrance on weak legs.
It takes you a second to gather yourself, as you instinctually settle into a defensive stance. The room you're in looks quite different from the rest of the ship. It's much more luxurious, one would risk saying cozy. With a gigantic, round bed filled with pillows, a dark desk, and a deliciously comfortable looking armchair. It all dims in your eyes, however, as you look up at your newlywed.
He stands right at the entrance, blocking the only means of escape with his tall frame.
Both of you are still in your wedding clothes. Your dress hugs your body in a way that is anything but comforting. His outfit is as black and sharp, as all his attire. It exposes his lean physique, clings to his warrior's physique. Terrifying, your brain summarizes, muscles freezing suddenly. Feyd Rautha looks at you with emotions you can't decipher in the low light of his room. Your room. Your marital abode.
You can't breathe, lungs tighten painfull with the sheer thickness of the air between the two of you. Still, there's a certain power, residing in your bones, an inclination of a fight you're ready to put up, should he try anything. And by the way his brow bone settles over his darkened eyes, your husband seems to understand. What a terrifying thought. The sheer idea of finding a common ground with this awful man makes your guts turn.
He doesn't even flinch, when the doors behind him slide open. You however, nearly jump out of your skin at the sound, cutting through the deafening silence of the bedroom. With furrowed brow you watch, as three Harkonnen women spill into the room. All of them completely hairless, lips pulled back in feral snarls, as they regard you with an emotion you can only interpret as contempt. Their bodies, clad in typical, Harkonnen garments, flow and slither, when they gather behind your husband, like three hungry lionesses, their black eyes flickering to him, to you.
- Get her ready - Fey Rautha throws a command over his shoulder, eyes glued to you still, and his gaze drags itself across your body like tar.
This is the first time you've heard him speak since the wedding, and involuntarily, you cringe at the gravely sound. While he stayed silent, it was easy to forget who you're dealing with. But as soon as sound leaves his mouth, you're cruelly reminded of the roughness, and the strangeness of your life's partner.
The three women stir behind him, hands sliding up his body in a gesture, that is almost too close to reverence. He does look like a young god, like some ethereal being, but you're too distressed to dwell on that thought. Instead, your arms encircle your body, a shiver of terror and strangely, disgust flowing over you, at the mere idea of these women touching you. Then, one of those three strange creatures moves forward. She has a stripe of black running down her bottom lip, and her face twists into a cruel smile.
She says something in a language you don't recognize. Probably a native Harkonnen. A rough bark, her disgusted expression translating the meaning better, than any dictionary would.
Still, you have no time to process the foreign insult, because as soon as words leave her mouth, your husband turns. His white hand grabs the woman's hairless head, as one would pick an apple from an orchard, and then, you see a flicker of true terror flash through the woman's face. In a smooth, deadly gesture, Feyd Rautha smashes her face against the wall, the resounding sound of her skull fracturing against the concrete is like the cracking of a whip in your ears.
That's all it takes, one move, and she falls into a lifeless heap, sliding down the wall.
A sigh escapes your lips, as your eyes stay glued to her body. You can't see her face.
Your husband barks something towards the remaining two women, and they scurry towards you, heads hung low, bodies curled onto themselves. You don't know, whether he looks at you, acknowledges you in any way, shape or form. The doors close behind him, as he leaves you in the hands of his... Whatever these women are to him.
They begin to strip you where you stand. Their hands peel off your wedding dress from your trembling body, and every move feels like tearing skin from muscle. You can't protest, can't do anything really. Dark, thick blood pools around the third woman's head, dripping between the tilled floor, slowly making it's way closer to your feet.
When they pull you towards the bed, you say nothing. Let them massage your body with some ointment, which smells of heavy chemicals and scratches your throat.
Their hands are unexpectedly delicate. You suppose they're too scared to take revenge on you, or perhaps, they just don't care. Doesn't really matter, because you do. You really care, despite yourself. Heart squeezes in your chest impossibly tight, when they help you up from the bed, and once again you're confronted with the white corpse in the corner of the room.
The dress they pull over your body hardly qualifies as a garment in your eyes. It's made of delicate, sheer material, which barely covers anything, looking more like a courtain thrown over a window.
Is this how he wants you, you wonder. Terrified, bare, always on the verge of something, be it tears or anger.
One of the women steps in front of you, takes your hands in hers and rubs something into your cold bones. You try to catch her eye, try to decipher how to categorize them, as humans or as creatures, but she swiftly ducks under your inquisitive gaze. That is, until your eyes flicker towards the corpse once again.
Her hand shoots up towards your chin, dragging you back to meet her onyx eyes. You can see the reflection of your own confused face in the void.
- You- she rasps, her voice a grating symphony of gurgles and growls that stumble over the common language - Soft.
Whether it's a warning, or a threat, you can't fully decide, but it doesn't matter. Those two words tell you more about your future life, than any book, any archived account. This is what the Harkonnens are made of. Sensless violence, outbursts of anger, dark blood. You swallow thickly, and nod, your expression hardening in the woman's eyes. She looks as if there's something else she'd want to say, but her head ducks at record speed, when the sound of the doors opening cuts through the air once more.
For a longer moment you're completely devoid of words.
Here stands you husband, some sort of fruit in his right hand, two daggers hanging from the belt on his trousers. His chest, white and (unfortunately) toned beyond belief stares back at you. His unoccupied hand makes a wide gesture, and the remaining two women scurry off towards their third, dead companion. With quick hands, they grab the body and drag it out of the room, letting the door slide closed behind them. Immediately, you miss their presence, unnerving as they are.
Once again, you're left alone with the na-Baron.
His eyes float freely all over your figure, taking it in with an impassive stare. It's deeply unnerving, the way you're presented to him, the way he organized all of this, tailored it to his liking. You can't help it, the way your body begins to warm before him, skin becoming prickly to the touch, much too sensitive for the strange imitation of fabric covering it. Still, your mind stays sharp, and instinct kicks in, as you take a cautious step back, angling your bady away from him.
- So, what now? - you ask, voice rough, eyes following his every move.
And move he does, slowly advancing towards you. His feet, which you now discover, are bare, drag behind him. Grace and danger mix well within his movements, as he circles you, still without a word. You throat runs dry, when he bites the fruit in his hand, dark juice spilling all over his lips, drops rolling down his hands, his forearms. Your stomach churns.
- Now - again you're reminded of the gravely tones his voice can carry - We consumate our marriage, wife.
Somehow, your marital status sounds like a mockery spilling from his lips, and he laughs at the way your face scrunches.
- I don't want you to touch me - a lie, your entire body burns for any semblence of friction, but you're determined to keep some dignity.
To that, he nods his head in silent agreement, a gesture, which actually manages to surprise you. The fruit is thrown forgotten onto the floor. It rolls under the bed, and you fight the urge to reprimend your husband. Instead, you bite your lip.
- I thought you would say that - he murmurs, coming closer, his breath fanning over your exposed shoulder.
The hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you crane your head to the side, so you can look him in the face. So he can see the disaproving expression, perhaps he'd feel a fraction of the hate boiling in your gaze. Then, you can feel something, cold and sharp, drag itself from the dip in your spine, all the way up to your shoulder blades. A gasp escapes you, and your entire body shivers violently.
- That's why I brought these. - Feyd Rautha whispers into your ear, and you can't help but sway lightly in your place, as if his words have the power to physically move you.
Then, your hand closes around a metal object, and you look down to be met with a beautifully crafted dagger. The blade is silver, shiny, and unbelievably sharp. It fits into your grasp as if it was made specially for you, and the possibility almost makes you smile. Then, confusion creases your brow, and your husband flashes you a deadly, black smile, as he steps back a couple of steps.
He's holding a blade as well, jet black and strangely matte, a perfect antitype of yours. There's a sort of lazy excitement about him, hidden in every movement. It reminds you of the way he'd behave in the arena, while making a spectacle of death for you and your family.
- I though this would work on you - he muses, twirling the blade in his hand, and your muscles seize with realization. - And it definitely works on me.
The idea is preposterous, utterly scandalous. Using a fight as some perverse attempt at foreplay, your brain swimms with conflicting emotions.
- You're being ridiculous - you attempt to diffuse the situation, but your husband doesn't budge, rolling his shoulders.
- Come on, wife - he snarls, with a sharp smirk - Don't you want to hurt me?
Something boils inside of you at his words. Some ancient, terrifying anger that you supposed, has always been there with you. From the moment you stepped onto the red carpet, leading you towards your undoing at the altar. Red, like the spilled blood still staining the floor of this bedroom. The rage, which you swallowed down, when you recited the vows, when you let him unveil your face, kiss you in front of the entire Atreides court. Now, it seeped through every pore in your skin, covering you in a tar like courtain.
You hate your husband. You hate Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.
Hate him for being your husband, for agreeing to this cruel match. For taking you away from your family, from your wise Father, and your strict Mother, and your sweet Brother. For ripping you away from love, which didn't even have time to properly bloom. Duncan's face dances in front of you like a taunting vision from an angry god, and your fingers tighten around the dagger.
Feyd Rautha is right. You want to hurt him. You wanted to, before you even met him.
- There you are - his lips pull back into a cruel, blackened smile of self-satisfaction - I was worried they took away all your venom, Viper.
You'll show him fucking venom, you think, feet sliding on the floor, twisting your body into a dancing position. Two sets of shields click into life, and suddenly you begin to understand.
This is your arena. This is your bull.
This will be your battlefield for the rest of your life, for as long as you're able to withstand it. With courage and grandiose, your Father's voice haunts you, but soon after another echo rises in your mind. Your Mother, your teacher, her whisper slithers from your memory, a passing comment right before you're shipped off to Giedi Prime, when she squeezed your hand so tight, you were worried tendons under your skin would snap.
Excitement and arousal flow freely from your husband's expression, as he watches yours harden. Something inexplicable settles over your features, a promise. You'll give him a fight of a lifetime, and he'll love it, every single time. It should unnerve you, the way his body lowers itself, like a panther ready to strike. It would've unnerved you some time ago.
Now, however, it shows you a clear path to survival. This is how you take control.
Cold blood splatters from under your feet, as you jump towards him, a series of measured blows following closely behind. He blocks them, lets some be pushed back by the shield. Then, he's on you, brutal and unhibited slashes fly around your body, and you meet all of them with a blocking blade. You're pushed back, towards the wall, where remains of the previous killing still stain the concrete. Blood seeps into the thin fabric on your body, and you shiver in disgust, as it sticks to you.
Your husband doesn't notice, his blade leaves a rather deep mark in the wall, as you duck under his arm, and avoid a nasty punch to the gut.
Plap, plap, plap, your feet carry you through the room, as you try to gain some leverage. The mattress on the bed is surprisingly soft, when you climb on top of it, gaining the advantage of a higher position. An advantage, which is quickly torn out of your hands, as your husband grabs onto your ankle, tugging at it with such force, you tumble down in an instant.
Panic rises in your gut, as the world sins around you, and without really thinking, you let your mind flow into autopilot.
- Let me go! - the Voice tears out of your throat like a landslide, and Feyd Rautha throws himself off of you, his body colliding with the nearby desk.
Books and papers crash to the floor with the force of his figure. Your head swimms, but you will it away, too focused on survival to care for your well-being. Both of you are panting, trying to recover from this sudden use of ancient magics.
- I should rip that treacherous tongue right out of your skull - the threat would carry more strength, if your husband's expression wasn't absolutely dripping with unabashed lust.
Never in your life has someone looked at you this way, and the shock of emotions is enough to pull you right to your feet. Your blade reflects the dim lights of the room, as you raise it high, body taunt and ready.
- You'll never get that close.
A challenge, which doesn't even have enough time to properly resound in the thick air of the room, before Feyd Rautha pushes himself off the desk. Things clatter to the ground from the force of his movements, and you barely have time to react, when his blade sinks into your shield. Your body flies backwards, falling in heap with his at the foot of your marital bed. The edge digs into your back, your left hand pressed tightly into the mattress.
He's hovering over you, panting like a wild animal, face illuminated red from below, where, just short of his juggular, your blade licks a stripe across his alabaster skin. His right hand is wedged between your bodies, dagger nicking you under your ribs. And you stay in this position, like a marble statue, your eyes melting into his, frozen in time.
- You fought well, Atreides - his voice rumbles deep within his chest, and you can't help, but snarl at his words. - We would've taken each other to an early grave.
Something dangerously close to fondness floods his features at the idea, and your fingers start to unravel, letting go of the dagger one by one. He doesn't have a chance to react, when your blade clatters to the floor, and your hand, now free, grabs the back of his head, pulling him down.
Your kiss opens the gates of hell, and soon, his own dagger is thrown across the room. You can't see, refuse to see, as your eyelids flutter closed. His lips are slightly chapped, but not any less delicious. Left hand thrashes in his hold, until he lets it go. Then, they both find purchase against his sharp cheekbones, and you hold him so tight, you might break his face with your ministrations.
- I knew it would work - he pants against your lips, you can hear the smile in every syllable.
- Shut the fuck up - you snarl, fingers digging deeper into his skin.
He groans into the kiss, immediately forcing his tongue into your mouth, as his hands work hard to manouver your legs open enough, for him to slot in between. Then, his touch is everywhere. On your legs, he drags the sheer fabric up and down your thighs, as he carresses your skin, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your hips. They venture upwards, to grab at your breasts, they fight their way into your hair, where he pulls and scrapes.
It doesn't matter, you think, when you hear the fabric tear, and the carefully chosen attire falls from your body. Nothing matters.
You're boneless and defenseless against this one insidious emotion, which carries your every move, which compells you to arch your back, to reveal your running pulse under his searching lips. Feyd Rautha bites down on your skin, right where your neck meets your shoulder, and you respond in kind, head descending upon his porcelain skin. He shudders under your teeth and tongue, his entire body tensing.
This is how you take control, and you've never felt so greedy.
His trousers aren't even fully off of his legs, when he enters you, clumsily and with urgency, bare feet sliding on the floor. Surprisingly inexperienced, he chases your core with his entire body, as if the heat of your insides in a completely foreign sensation.Your moan tears at the column of your throat, where his lips leave a trail of purple marks. The covers remains undisturbed, as your husband ruts into you, pressing your back harder against the edge of the bed. It's uncomfortable, it's hurtful, but somehow, it feels perfect for the two of you. Fucking like wild animals, not even able to make it onto the bed.
- I hate you - you repeat, like a mantra, broken voice cascading with every thrust. - I hate you, I ha-
Your head rolls backwards, when a particularly hard thrust nearly breaks you, but your husband is here to help, his hand grabbing the the roots of your hair, bringing your head down, so you can watch as he performs a magic trick of repeatedly disapearing into your body.
You're not sure who's blood his hand slips on, but suddenly, you're fully on the floor, your body crushed by his. Nothing stops his wild movements, not the sloppiness of it all, not the hard wails he tears from your body. If anything, the more strain his body is under, the more ferocious he's being. Your hand shoots up, all five fingers digging into his throat, and you're rewarded with an angelic moan, which almost brings you to your finish line. Almost.
His head leans down into the crook of your neck, where he whispers something in Harkonnen, a gurgle of rough sounds, interrupted by sinful moans. He sounds so beautiful, so conflicted, for a second you consider being gentle with him. Alas, you hate him still.
Another realization dawns upon you, as your feet kick with force into your husbands backside, to force him deeper, to keep him inside. This is still a fight. You're still on the battlefield, still waving a red flag in front of a raging bull. So, with courage and grandiose, your muscles tense, and you roll your husband over.
The change in position makes both of you gasp in unison, as you sink down onto him. For a second, everything stops. His lips are red and swollen, sweat and blood mix on his skin, flow down in pinkish stripes. And he watches you, as one would a holy painting of a foreign god. With reverence and utter lack of understanding. You're fully aware the look is mirrored on your face.
Slowly at first, your hips begin to rock, up and down, in a steady rhythm, that forces a shuddering breath to leave Feyd Rautha's lips. You bend down, to catch it, and because of your greed, you catch his bottom lip as well. The bite you give him is anything but romantic, and his hips jump from the floor, hitting a spot within you, you didn't know existed. He swallows your moan along with his own blood, and his fingertips map the curve of your spine, as you straighten upon him.
Fingernails latch themselves into the skin of his chest, as you speed up, chasing your own release and no one else's. Moans spill from your lips, the concept of shame abandoning your mind completely. Then, compelled by something dark and twisted you drag claw marks down his torso.
His body shudders, and his hips lift off the ground, fucking into you with reckless abandon. The hold he has on the flesh of your hips is bruising, to say the least, but you did enough damage to call it even. Enough, to make your body tremble and tense up, as climax creeps up on you steadily.
Like a shark sniffing for blood, he senses the change in your being, and as you tumble over the edge, a silent scream tearing at your throat, he suddenly rises into a seating position. His arms encircle you fully, pressing your sweaty bodies impossibly close, as he too finds his own end.
It takes him second, to tumble over, filling you to the brim with ink. His head buries itself into your shoulder, inhaling your scent through deep gasps, each eliciting a broken growl from his chest.
Your bones are gone completely, body relaxing and falling breathless into your husband's arms. After a while of sitting in complete stillness, he moves first. Strong hands lift you up, off of him, and you whine at the emptiness.
Then, as a last hurrah, he throws you onto the bed, where your recovering body sinks into the soft mattress. It's heavenly, the way you seem to float in nothingness, head swimming from exertion. For a moment you don't even register him climbing into the bed with you, drunk on the fading tension seeping from your every pore.
The lights are almost completely out, yet his skin shines against the black comforter. You wish to see if he's flushed, like he was at the engagement party. Leaning on one arm, his fingers trail around the small wound under your ribs. Dried blood flakes off of your skin, and you shudder again.
- I - you start, voice completely broken - I've never known hate, until I met you.
You're not sure why you've said it. Perhaps, in this moment of serenity, truth seems to float to the surface much more easily. Or perhaps you're possessed, or worse, gone completely insane. Eother way, your eyebrows furrow, and Feyd Rautha leans down to kiss your forehead, gently.
- If this is how your hate looks like - he whispers into your hairline, teeth scraping lightly against it - I dread to imagine your love.
You'll never find out, you think, but for some reason can't fully vocalize it.
He says something else, after a while, but your mind is becoming as heavy as your body, and as the day descends upon you in a heap of exhaustion, you fall asleep.
And while your story has nothing but suffering in the future, while there's death and mourning, and years of violence written in the stars for you. Right now, on the Harkonnen ship sailing through space to Giedi Prime, you sleep in the arms of your husband. Whether this strange symbiotic relationship will last, no one can tell, but there is hope, and what else could you possibly need?
#my writing#dune part 2#dune x reader#feyd rautha harkonnen#feyd rautha smut#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#dune smut#what a journey my gosh#thank you once again for following the story love y'all
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thinking about carmy + picky eater gf
a/n: i wrote this stoned bc i hate fish and i also did not edit it plz enjoy <3
he'd try to surprise her one night early on in dating by making some fancy kingfish thing on a night they're supposed to just hang out at his place, and when she walks into his apartment, she is immediately appalled by the smell of the cooking fish. she's a sweetie though so she's going to try, just for carmy, because he's sweating and the kitchen is kind of an organized mess so she knows he must have gone to a lot of trouble.
he greets her with a kiss and goes to change, leaving her to freak out about how the fuck she's supposed to fake liking seafood of all fucking things.
once carmy's plated everything and brought it out, he looks so proud of himself and so hopeful that her tentative plans to tell him she really, really cannot do seafood crash and burn in front of her, and she decides that she's just gonna have to suck it up and eat the fish. she puts a bite in her mouth, chews, swallows, and immediately gulps down a bunch of her wine to get the taste out of her mouth. of course carmy notices - he's been staring at her, actually, so eager to know if she likes his cooking - and his face immediately falls.
"you hate it." it's a statement, not a question.
her eyes widen. "no, what? no! no, it's so good, the sauce - it's delicious, carm, for real," and they're both mildly frantic now. she's taking another huge bite that makes her eyes water from how much she does not like the taste of the fish, and carmy is leaning back in his chair, looking sort of...despondent. yeah, that's the word.
"is it...i mean, seriously, you don't have to pretend to like it. if it sucks it sucks. i knew i should've done a glaze instead of the cream sauce..." now carmy's muttering to himself about the recipe, taking his own bite and frowning. "i mean, it's not that bad, is it?"
"carm, it's not bad at all, i promise, i just - i guess i never told you that i don't really...like seafood," she says, standing up to walk around the table and stand next to him, cupping his face in her palms. "the sauce is so good and i'm sure the fish is cooked perfectly, i just...i really...i hate seafood, carmen, i'm sorry, i should've told you, but i just didn't know you'd go to all this trouble, i thought it was going to be kind of a chill night and i'm just really sorry." she knows she's rambling but she can hardly get herself to stop.
carmy swings his chair forward, the front legs hitting the hardwood with a thump. "you don't like seafood? like any seafood?"
she shakes her head. "i'm sorry."
there's a pause where she thinks he might yell. then he tips his head back, out of her grip, and belly laughs. he laughs for a solid minute or two, hysterical laughter that starts to worry her after the fifteen second mark. "carm, i'm sorry, i'll make it up to you, i'll pay you back for the fish and stuff -"
that stops him cold. "okay, no," he scoffs. "i'm gonna make you some pastina or some other shit you'll actually eat and we're gonna watch the new episode of bach you kept texting me about and we're gonna have a nice night, okay? pay me back for the fish," he mutters the end under his breath, "as fuckin' if."
#carmen berzatto#jeremy allen white#carmen berzatto x reader#carmy x reader#the bear#the bear fx#the bear hulu#my writing#excuse my complete lack of knowledge about cooking i don't even know if kingfish is good or expensive#also yes carmy refers to the bachelor as bach in this universe because he's actually very invested in joey's journey this season
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"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth
#the promised neverland#tpn manga#tpn emma#tpn ray#rayemma#emma#ray#my edits#happy november 13th aka the day the kiddos crossed over to the human world and our fearless protagonist achieved her goal.#im so proud of her..& i didnt mean for this to turn into something so RE relatable but it just fits ya know? ray's been by her side the#entire journey so of course he would witness all her ups & downs. i dunno if he would indulge in poetry however but with all the#books in the GF & bunker library im sure he's at least come across his far share of poems over the years. so yeah. i sorta imagined him#writing all this down and sketching out his memories alongside it all. hopefully the panels convey that kind of look. who knows.
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Attempting to make an active attempt to care about my ocs some more, so I’ve been putting some effort into revamping some old guys I made with my friend!! They’re technically a part of a group w their ocs as well, but I’ve been thinking of the three of them on their own lately :]
They live in a post-apocalyptic badlands type setting and cart themselves around in a busted up bus and get into schenanigans.
They don’t reaaally have any sort of story to them just yet but I’m learning to have fun and play in the space and not worry about that yk. Look at my funny women
#art :0]#Ottos ocs :0]#I’m so sorry if my writing is incomprehensible I’m too tired to write down transcripts rn.#i can never tell if I’m saying too much or too little with ocs.. hm…#oh now i have to try and tag an oc post ok.#character design#Ger#Crank#Rosie#idk they’re on their own journey
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Last of her kind
Emperor!Alpha!Zhongli + Omega!Dragoness!Reader
cw/tags: This chapter has no smut but still contains highly suggestive themes and sexual implications. Mentions of slavery and past sexual abuse on fem!reader, A/B/O dynamics and heat mentions. fem!reader suffers with self-worth and bad memories, including past insults and abuse.
notes: After so long finally part 2!! EEEEEEEE I am so excited but also so nervous pls ;w; like if you want the first part can be read as a standalone and have a "happy ending" but now I am committed to the emotional roller coaster, A/B/O dynamics and LONG BURN PINING so yep >:3c hope this does justice to everyone's expectation tho. And hope you like it and accompany me on this tale hehe
As a lil sidenote brackets [] now indicate past actions/words and bad memories, regular italics for emphasis, inner thoughts or the little pinyin I sprinkled here (which btw is taken straight from genshin wiki so...).
<- Part 1 Part 3 ->
Being precious all of the sudden was… different.
Your hand subconsciously kept touching your bonding mark, as if to make sure it was still there, to soothe you.
After a quick meal just between Zhongli and you, consisting of some soft rice buns and delicious minced meat packaged inside a crispy pastry shell, you were then offered some new clothes. It was much more elaborate and certainly more layered than anything you’d worn before: a long skirt and flowy sleeves in a silky soft fabric, beautifully embroidered and hastily modified to make a hole for your tail to slip out. A sash keeping everything in place while accentuating your figure. You immediately loved it although it felt a little heavy and restricting.
Now, you quietly follow Zhongli as he leads you around the palace. He’s back to his former fully-human appearance, wearing an elegant attire, and everywhere you go, people bow at him and cast curious silent glances at you. It was rather unnerving.
It’s fine, you are used to being stared at, judged. You hold your tail up close for comfort.
The place is huge and you quickly get lost trying to map it out in your head, simply following along until you reach a large room with a few simple beds scattered around. Bookcases and cabinets stacked the walls, filled with all sorts of books, papers, jars and things. A pungent smell present in the air.
A green-haired man leans over a desk, glasses perched on his nose as he frantically scribbles some notes. What seems like powders and plants litter the space around him, along with a few more glass containers, incense, and a tea set with a steaming fresh cup.
“Baizhu.” Zhongli’s voice calls and you stiffen a little, hearing it again after a while of silence. It is still warm and deep but with a more reserved and regal tone like when he first met you.
The green-haired man (a Beta, you recognize) looks up and blinks in surprise, then smiles brightly and says some words you do not understand, you shuffle in place.
“Yes, this is her.” Zhongli replies. “I will ask you to speak in in common tongue so she can understand as well, I don’t want to unnecessarily unnerve her.”
Well, that is… very considerate. It eases you a little.
“Of course, your majesty.” He turns to you, his eyes were a bright amber, also with slitted pupils. Was it common in liyuens? “My name is Baizhu, the royal doctor and apothecary, pleased to meet you, empress.”
Empress?!
“E-Empress?!” You can’t help but blurt out.
“Why of courssse.” A high-pitched voice hisses and you almost jump when a white snake peaks her head from her coils at the desk, staring up at you. “You’re mated to hisss majesssty the emperor, sssso, it would be underssstood you’re now the empresssss.” Her split tongue flickers.
Baizhu chuckles. “Changsheng, be nice.”
You don’t know what to answer, mostly because you’re still reeling from the fact that you’re apparently now an empress, and because there’s a talking snake.
Liyue is weird…
“I decided to bring her here exactly because of that.” Zhongli turns to you and suddenly holds one of your hands, softly, staring at you with such affection it makes you melt. “Darling, would you let him check your bonding mark for a moment?”
You’re a little nervous, but it is not like you can refuse… right? You nod quietly.
Baizhu approaches and examines your neck and you fight the urge not to flinch or growl. No Omega likes it when a stranger is so close to such a sensitive spot. He hums and tilts his head but doesn’t touch you. “It seems it’s already healed due to her illuminated beast blood but the scar is present. I’d say the bond has been properly established, congratulations your majesty.” He smiles warmly.
A grateful bubbly feeling creeps up your chest. Properly established. So, it’s true.
You feel Zhongli’s hand squeeze yours lightly and look down at it, then back up at him. “Thank you, Baizhu. I will not keep you any longer. We still have a lot to do and I’m sure you do as well.”
Baizhu bows at him (at both of you, you realize) and then you’re on your way. Not before hearing the snake’s hissy whispers again
“A fine yin, hm…?”
--------------------------------------------
This is… your new home.
Zhongli shows you around some of the areas in what he called the “inner court” of the palace complex. Everything is so… large and open and lavish it has your head spinning, your eyes darting in every direction trying to take in all at once, walking fast on your new clothes. He guides you along the dining hall, a small temple, crosses through an enormous main hall where he explains audiences are held, and then a gorgeous outer garden that completely takes your breath away.
The wooden gilded architecture in golds and reds, the fresh wind and gentle sun. All sorts of new sounds and smells. The painted walls and high ceilings. The new plants and flowers. The chatters in a different language… everything is so distinct from the desert.
You soak in the new environment. Inhaling deeply.
It is both terrifying and exhilarating.
Finally, he guides you to another room, it looks similar to the nest room where you’d first been at, but larger. It is sparsely decorated with a large and comfy looking-bed, a desk, mirror and a small table with a couple chairs and a tea set. It smells nice enough.
You peek up at Zhongli.
“This will be your room.” He explains.
…What?
“We kept it simple for now but you are, of course, free to furnish and decorate it however you’d like. It’s close to my own room and anything you might need.”
Wait what?
Your ears lower down and you seem to deflate a little, disappointed. “H-Huh? But… I-I won’t be sleeping with you?” You ask softly.
Mated pairs sleep together, don’t they? They share living chambers and mix their scents together to symbolize their union. That’s what you’ve always been told. You are to always be near your Alpha, at his beck and call, warm up his bed and be ready to please.
Maybe things are different in Liyue? Or maybe it’s because he’s an emperor. Master didn’t tell you anything, so maybe you are just making a fool of yourself right now on your-
Zhongli clears his throat and looks at you a little surprised “I simply thought you’d be more comfortable having your own space, we… don’t really know each other very well yet, and I wouldn’t want to impose.”
Impose? As in order? But he’s your Alpha! “B-But I want to! Please! I-I mean… I thought that since we’re b-bonded…” You mumble shyly.
His cheeks turn a little pink, you like when that happens, he looks a lot less serious. He cups your cheek and you inhale looking up at those gorgeous golden eyes. “My dear dragoness. I don’t want you to feel forced to do anything you don’t want to. I know you were raised… differently, I cannot claim to understand your experiences, but listen to me: you are safe here.” He says the last part slowly, enunciating each word. “No one will scold you or punish you, least of all me. I want you to be free to speak and choose what you want.” He sighs. “Though I know it’ll be difficult...”
Furnish, impose, free… you don’t know any of those words.
But no punishment, to choose what you want, to be safe… it sounds surreal even.
What do you want?
His eyes soften at your nervous silence. “Let’s try this… do you really want to share my room, or would you like to stay here? I won’t be upset if you do.”
“I…” Your tail curls around you. “I want to stay with you. Sleep together. Like mates.” You mumble.
“Then it would be my honor, however, this room will stay ready if you change your mind, alright?” You glance around at the room again, and nod. “Now that that is settled, I have one last thing to do. I need to introduce you to a few very special people before I leave to-”
“Leave?!”
You didn’t mean to yelp like that.
“J-just to do my duties, I am not leaving you, I promise.” He corrects, a little taken aback. “I am sorry my dear, but as much as I’d like to spend every moment by your side right now, I have a few pressing matters to tend to. I know you’re nervous, everything is new and scary and overwhelming but I promise I’ll leave you in good hands and be back as soon as I can.”
You nod, now feeling a little embarrassed at the whole ordeal. You’d been feeling so at ease with his presence, showing you around, listening to his voice name and explain everything you saw that you’d almost forgotten. “You’re the emperor, I’m sure you’re very busy. No need to worry about me, I’ll behave, my lord.”
He frowns a little at that but says nothing, and you choose to say nothing else either.
Going back to the main hall, you immediately spot three people lined up looking at you with a mix of the already expected curiosity and excitement. One of them in particular immediately catches your attention, he’s an Alpha and you can’t help but feel a little nervous…
“Allow me to introduce you, these three are my most loyal and closest council members: Ping, Ganyu and Xiao.” Zhongli gestures at them and all three bow lightly. “Like you and I they all have the blood of xiānshòu, and you can ask them for anything should you need help or have questions. I hope you learn to trust them and feel at ease.”
You nod quietly, still a bit fixated on the other Alpha.
“Xiao, or general Alatus, is one of Liyue’s strongest, most resilient and skilled warriors. He usually keeps guard at the palace to ensure my wellbeing and now yours as well, if you ever feel danger call out his name and he’ll come.”
Ah, did they notice you were staring…?
With a gesture of his hand Xiao manifests a gorgeous Jade spear, crystalline green shards reflecting light as he taps it by his side, standing firm, you flinch in surprise. “My spear shall now serve you too, empress.” His eyes too are golden and sharp, filled with a certain rigidness and determination you can’t quite put your finger on.
“Thank you, Xiao, dismissed.”
Xiao hums quietly and promptly disappears in a burst of black and green smoke, you stand there a little startled, your hand clings to the brown fabric of Zhongli’s sleeve.
“He might be an Alpha as well, but I promise you he’ll cause you no harm.” Your alpha murmurs softly towards you.
“O-okay…” You squeak, a bit embarrassed.
“Ganyu here is one of the most reliable people in the palace, perhaps the entirety of Liyue. Everything of importance reaches her ears and passes through her eyes. She’s able to organize meetings, events, report, compile information and assist every negotiation and decision of this palace with stunning efficiency. She too will help you with anything you need and might be in charge of a little logistics regarding you settling in for the next few days.” Zhongli smiles.
The young woman with long blue hair and… horns? chuckles and blushes a little. “Your majesty, you're too kind, I merely love doing my job.” She puts her hands together and beams at you, sunset eyes bright. “I’m so honored to meet you, rest assured I’ll take care of anything you need. I hope you feel comfortable and welcome at the palace!”
That sounded like a lot. You weren’t used to people coddling you like this. You didn’t want to give anyone trouble or work. “T-that’s alright, thank you.”
“Now, Ping is probably going to spend the most time with you, she’s very knowledgeable in culture, history and the inner workings of the palace amongst other things. She has graciously offered to teach you liyuen and anything else you’d be interested in.”
Unlike the other two Ping has a certain calm aura to her, contrasting Xiao’s seriousness and Ganyu’s excited energy. You can tell she’s a gentle old soul as she approaches you with a soft wrinkled smile and graying hair.
“Don’t worry young empress, while Lord Morax here is regrettably busy with a work-packed schedule,” She gives him a playful side stare “You and I will have some fun. I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.” She takes your hand and pats it comfortingly. It’s kind of an awkward gesture for you, but you still welcome the warmth and good intentions.
Zhongli chuckles quietly. “In that case, I’ll leave you in her care and see you at night for dinner, alright?” He seems to hesitate for a moment but then cups your face in his hands and places a soft kiss at your forehead. The unexpected gesture has you blushing scarlet and your heart speeding up like crazy. His thumb brushes at the scales under your eyes, so affectionate in the smallest ways… “I know it’s not ideal, but it’ll be fine, yes?”
You stare at his golden eyes, the red lines, his handsome face framed with dark hair, his serene smile.
You don’t like this. You don’t want him to leave. The idea makes you uncomfortable.
But it’s not like you can say no.
You nod.
“Thank you, Ping.” Both of them exchange a glance and then he turns to the blue-haired woman still in the room. “Ganyu, if you will.”
“Right away your majesty!” She scurries after him, talking quickly in foreign tongue while both walk away.
You stare after him for a moment longer.
“It’s a little difficult, isn’t it?”
You quickly turn back to Ping and then look down, ears folding back.
She laughs softly. “No need to be ashamed dear, it is understandable that you are unsure with all this, it’s a lot of changes for such a short time and you bond is still fresh, but let’s take it easy.”
Your hand brushes at Zhongli’s bonding mark again. “O-Okay…”
“Are you hungry? Tired? Perhaps you want to rest a little?”
You want to scurry away to your mate’s room and curl up there, that’s what you want, but…
“Um, aren’t you… going to train me?”
Ping blinks a little taken aback “Train? Oh! Teach?”
Same thing.
“Well, yes. I did offer, but only if you’re feeling up to it young empress. You can take your time, we don’t have to start right away. And like I said, take it easy, it's only your second day here.” She explains. “You won’t be absorbing any information if you are uncomfortable and jittery like this.”
“S-sorry-”
“No need to apologize at all. Now tell me, is there anything you’ve seen or heard today that you’re curious about, anything you want to do?”
What you want…
You think back a few hours earlier. The infirmary, the small temple, the grand hall, and…
“The garden.” You speak. “Can we go outside and see?”
Ping smiles brightly. “Of course! I’m sure there are a lot of things there that will catch your interest and cheer you up.”
Your tail sways a little after you as you follow the old lady along the corridors.
------------------------
The garden is breathtaking.
More than a garden it feels like a whole different world. Bright and exciting and colorful, full of life. It reminds you of an Oasis, but just… more!
A grand pond with multicolored fishes and a couple of turtles sunbathing. Walk paths made of stone, plants everywhere you see: in trees with vibrant yellows, oranges and all shades of greens, in flowers with soft colors and small petals, in thick bushes. The light filters through the leaves and there’s the soft tweets of small birds.
“It’s… so pretty!” You exclaim happily.
“I’m glad you think so. Gardens like this are carefully cared for and preserved to impress, but they also represent beauty, abundance a sense of harmony.” Ping explains as she is now the one following after you, skipping along the path. “These trees you see are sandbearers, and that one is a ginkgo tree, you can tell the difference by the shapes of their leaves.” She points at each one and you follow with your gaze, picking a small leaf from the floor, golden and fan-shaped.
“Ooh…”
“See those smaller fishes? They’re goldfishes. The bigger ones are kois.” She gestures at the animals freely swimming around. Some of them are huge!
“What do they eat?” You blurt out.
“Well, usually algae and wheat. We can get some another day and you can feed them.”
“Really?!”
“Of course.”
“Oh! Is that a koi too? It’s so… long and pretty.”
“Ah, that one is a golden koi. Lord Morax has a few of them here. They are also called Jīnchì Jiǎlóng or ‘false dragons’ you know? For the small horns and long bodies. They do resemble your tail a little, don’t they?”
You move your tail forward and stare at it, then stare at the serpentine fish.
“Yes, sort of… Jin chi… jia long.” You mumble.
“Here, I think you’ll like these ones. Come with me.” You eagerly follow after Ping as she rounds the pond and guides you towards a few red bushes. They’re dotted with pink round flowers. “These are silk flowers, Nícháng-huā, usually harvested to make clothes, but there are many special ornamental variants and between us both, your dear mate has a weak spot for these so he has quite the collection.” She chuckles.
“Orna…metal?”
“Ornamental, it means mostly for decoration.”
“Oh!” Suddenly you feel dumb, you’d thought for a second that was a liyuen word too. “I’m sorry… I don’t even know common tongue very well.” How could you even expect to learn liyuen?
“No worries, dear, learning a new language is a daunting task, it takes a bit of work every day. If you keep learning, using and practicing words, you’ll get there.”
You smiled softly. Ping was so… patient and supportive.
So much different from…
[You have to try harder.]
[Tch that is not good enough.]
[Are you stupid?!]
[Useless omega.]
You looked at the budding silk flowers and blinked. Once. Twice. Why was your vision blurry now? What was this feeling?
“Oh, oh young empress please don’t cry. It’s alright” Ping’s alarmed remark helps you understand. She fusses over you. “Are you ok?”
You wipe at your tears and smile, a genuine bright smile.
“I’m fine.”
And this time, you truly mean it.
----------------------------------------
After a rather fancy bath (the kind of like you used to take before being presented to Alphas, with bubbles and scented oils...) and a good dinner Zhongli and you headed over for his chambers for the night. You couldn’t help but be a little… nervous.
This is stupid. He’s your Alpha.
He’s been nothing but kind to you.
What if he wants to… d-do things?
Then you’ll do it. He’s your mate. It’s your obligation.
You were the one who chose this anyway.
Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, anxiety creeping up your chest. Were your fingers trembling? Was the room suddenly cold?
As expected, the bedroom was quite matching his style. Golds, browns and a bit of red and black here and there. Dragon imagery adorning some of the walls, a tea cabinet with a small table and shelves filled with all sorts of trinkets from precious stones and books to a beautiful fan and a tea set.
And then there was the bed.
A large canopy bed, enough to probably have your body and tail fully stretched across and still fit in the mattress, beautifully decorated and filled with fabrics and pillows.
The scent of Zhongli’s Alpha pheromones was definitely strong.
He yawns and runs a hand along his forehead, combing along his hair before pulling out the clip on it, letting his long dark locks spill free. He takes off his robe revealing his naked torso and you jolt.
It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.
You undress as well into your light sleeping clothes and gingerly slip into his bed, curling up around his pillows, surrounded by his scent.
His.
You are his.
It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine-
“Darling, is everything alright? Are you uncomfortable?” He asks concerned, climbing on the bed as well and reaching out to touch your arm. You squeak. “You’re… terrified, what’s wrong?” Then Zhongli’s eyes widen a little. “Oh. The scent… I completely overlooked that, my apologies. Is it too strong? Are you ok? Should have given you some things earlier for you to scent and include them here. This is no good…” He rambles a bit to himself as he sits up and crosses his arms thoughtfully.
You stare at him, anxiety still surging through your veins but now mixed in with confusion.
“Would you like to sleep in the other room we prepared for you instead?” He sighs.
“I… t-this is… you… would just let me leave?”
Zhongli tilts his head slightly, now he looks confused.
“I promised you that the room would be available-”
“So, you don’t want to mate?”
Silence.
He stares at you for a moment as you grip at the bedsheets, still tense.
His eyes widen as realization settles in.
Ah. The pink dusting in his cheeks is back.
“Y-You thought that… no! My dear, no, no, no…” He coughs into his fist awkwardly. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong idea. A-As I said before I want you to be comfortable and feel safe. No Alpha will force you to do anything you don’t want. Not even me. And you don’t have to feel forced to do things you don’t want to, either.”
You look down. Although you feel slightly more relieved.
“I want to stay here. A-and if you want to, I’ll service you, my lord. I was just… nervous, sorry.”
“I assure you there is no need for any of that.” He says softly. “Here.”
He pulls the covers and slips them over you both, lying down facing you but still keeping a little distance. You do the same, curled up face to face with him.
He’s so effortlessly handsome.
And kind.
And you like him.
But he’s still an Alpha.
“Is this alright? We’re just going to sleep, I promise.” He brushes some hair away from your face.
You nod.
“Is there… anything you want to talk about or ask me?”
You... don’t know.
You shake your head.
“Hmmm. Want to share about your day? What were you up to with Ping?” He gives you a playful smile. Suddenly he feels less like an imposing strict emperor, or like a scary Alpha. He’s just your Zhongli.
“She… showed me the garden. I wanted to see.”
“Ah, the royal garden has many fascinating sights and it’s a beautiful landscape to retreat to and ease one’s mind. I had the feeling you’d be interested.”
“There were so many beautiful things. She taught me about the silk flowers, nícháng-huā. And all the trees and fishes and birds.”
“Oh? Are these your first words in liyuen, my dear?”
You giggle. “I… suppose they are. She also showed me your turtles Jiàn and Fù and told me what their names mean, they are so cute. Oh! And we saw the liúlí bah… bai… bǎihé! I sang to them and they bloomed! It was... amazing.”
“I see. Not everyone can achieve that, I’ll admit I’m quite hopeless at singing.” He chuckles “What more did you learn?”
Feeling much more content and at ease you continue retelling all the new things you had experienced and the vocabulary you had learned including how to introduce yourself and some greetings and basic words. Talking for what felt like hours until weariness and sleep claimed you both.
Zhongli simply listened and stared at you, captivated. He seemed content as well.
It made you happy.
------------------------------------------
For the next couple of months, you established a sort of routine.
You’d wake up early alongside Zhongli, even though you didn’t need to, you simply enjoyed having some morning tea and breakfast with him. Afterwards he’d go tend to some of his official duties and you’d stay with Ping Lǎolao, learning more and more each day. By now you could even follow some basic conversation (provided the other person didn’t speak too fast) although reading and writing was still extremely difficult.
You’d expressed interest in some gardening and even headed to the kitchens to prepare some food by yourself. The maids claimed there was no need for the empress to do such ‘menial tasks’ but as an Omega you pride yourself in certain things, and cooking for your Alpha was something you’d yearned to do.
You were overjoyed when Zhongli praised your Jade parcels.
You’d always have lunch with him and some days he’d accompany you for a stroll or you’d stay at his study for some leisure time, or even at some meetings. It had been a little unnerving at first but you also knew it was important to know others and be known in the council, as well as understand Liyue outside of the palace walls. After all, you are an empress now.
At night, you slept close to him. The initial awkwardness of sleeping at opposite sides of the bed soon traded for a much cuddlier approach, often with you curled up to Zhongli’s chest or him spooning you, tails often intertwined together. The bed and the entire room now have a mix of your combined scents, like true mates.
And so, life was good…
------------------------------------------
You’re slowly pulled out of your sleep as Zhongli stirs in the bed. You grumble a little and yawn, already missing his warmth. It was so pleasant…
“Good morning, my dear dragoness.”
“Morning…” You mumble, not opening your eyes and instead blindly reaching for his pillow to hug and cling to. “Can we stay for longer?” You whine.
“You definitely can, but I have to go.” He kisses your forehead “Rest, my dear.”
You pout but say nothing. Squeezing at the pillow and burying your face in it.
It smells so good…
------------------------------------------
“Hmm… is it warmer today?” You wonder aloud as the maids help you up with the layers of your hanfu. The clothes still hot and heavy in contrast to what you used to wear at the desert, but today seemingly more so… the sash feels more constricting than usual. “I-I think I’d like to wear something a little lighter… if possible.”
“Of course, your majesty, no problem.”
You smile at them, grateful.
--------------------------------------------
Sitting at Zhongli’s study room you practice some basic liyuen calligraphy while he seemingly goes over some important documents. The silence is comfortable and a warm cup of Qixing tea steams at both desks. Yet, something keeps bothering you.
You huff lightly, scratching and picking at the scales of your tail, irritated with the uncomfortable feeling. Why is it so itchy? A couple of them fall off, revealing new glossy ones underneath.
“Ah…” So that means…
You stop for a moment. The feverish feeling, scents being stronger on your nose, the urge to nest and cling to your mate.
Hmm… part of you is a little excited. And yet, there is fear.
------------------------------------------
“You have quite the appetite today, dear. Eat slowly, the food won’t go anywhere.” Ping chuckles as you practically pick a little of every dish while still trying to keep some modicum of elegance. Chopsticks weren’t that easy after all.
“Yes… I think… I think it’s my pre-heat hormones.” You sigh before munching on a shrimp ball.
Your heat…
Your first heat with Zhongli. With any Alpha to be honest. You’d always had to endure them on your own (Master couldn’t have you get pregnant) and they were excruciating and debilitating, crying out for days with your skin burning and itching, trying to sate yourself with your fingers and humping pillows. But now… you’re happily bonded.
Would it… feel good again?
Like, that first time you two mated…
You feel your cheeks heat up.
“Excuse me?”
“Hm?”
You’re brought back to reality to see Ping staring at you seemingly a little alarmed.
“Pre-heat? Young empress, are you going into heat soon?”
“Y-yeah? Probably um, tonight…? Or tomorrow.” The onsets are always so quick, and your cycle has always been more or less stable.
The elder places her chopsticks down. “Have you told Lord Morax?”
“Um. N-No, not yet. But… m-maybe he already caught on...” You tilt your head.
…Right?
Then again even you took a couple of days to identify the signs, and now for sure you were at the brink of it. Maybe he’ll mate you tonight…
Hm… how will Zhongli react to your heat scent?
You have to do your best!
[Be a good omega.]
Ping stands up, her expression still gentle but with a sort of urgency to it, your instincts catch the feeling she’s worried about something.
“I have to inform about this, please stay here dear.”
Now you’re nervous. You nod slowly.
Why does it feel like you did something wrong…?
------------------------------------------
After that, things get… chaotic.
It’s only a while later that you find yourself at the infirmary. Ganyu and Zhongli are also there and everyone’s anxious pheromones in the air do not sit well with you (subtle as they are, your nose is hyperaware right now).
“I’m sorry the symptoms are already settled in. At this point it is simply not feasible to give her suppressants, she has to go through this heat.” Baizhu says, looking troubled.
Feasible? Suppressants? More unknown words but…
Is there something wrong with your heat?
Ganyu scurries off and Ping starts talking with Baizhu on the other side of the room. You cling to Zhongli’s robe, trying to soothe yourself with his presence but his scent is… agitated.
You whine to call out to him. You’re scared.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Zhongli pulls you close, cupping your face again, staring straight at you. “No… no my dear dragoness, of course you didn’t, it’s just…” He steels himself searching for the right words, it doesn’t ease you in the slightest. “We didn’t expect your heat so soon. I should have known, noticed… I’m sorry.”
Why is your alpha apologizing to you? That is ridiculous.
“Is it a bad thing?”
“It’s… not the right time.”
You’re so confused.
Don’t Alphas like it when Omegas are in heat? Soft, pliant, warm, needy and ready to breed.
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do this…” He says. “And… you could trigger my rut, you could end up pregnant. I don’t want to… scare you, or hurt you. It’s much too soon for us to share your heat. I thought we’d have more time for you to get acclimated to Liyue or…” He shakes his head. “Nevermind. For the next few days you’ll be in a separate room, yes? No one will disturb you during your heat, I promise.”
“B-But then… I… what…?”
Alone?
“Usually omegas take suppressants, like a type of medicine, to stave off their heats so they don’t have to face these risks or suffer them alone, and then when they’re ready, when they want, they choose to share heats with their partners.” He explains.
“But I want to! I… I’ll be good!”
Zhongli sighs. “Darling you are good, you are precious to me. You don’t need to prove anything or do things because they are ‘expected’ of you.”
He’s not listening!
He asks you what you want. He says you can choose. But now that you tell him, ask him, beg him even… he denies you?
How come you’re always making the wrong choice?
Was it all a lie then?
“But I- T-then- Why-… YOU’RE CONFUSING ME!!” You yell, tears stinging in your eyes.
There are a few gasps and you see not only Baizhu and Ping, but Ganyu and some of the maids staring at you in shock. You cover your mouth, eyes wide at the sudden burst of fierceness and emotion.
You yelled at him.
You talked back.
You should be punished.
He stares at you, frozen like a statue for a few moments. You stare at him, pitiful, your eyes begging. A whimper leaves you and Zhongli lets out a shuddering breath.
Oh, your Alpha wants you, you know it.
"Please..." You mumble, voice so small.
"I'm sorry my dear, it's better this way." His hand moves towards you, to cup your face again or brush at your hair you're not sure, but he stops himself before you can find out. He sighs, averting his gaze and looking conflicted, and then turns around.
This is your punishment.
"It'll be just a few days, you'll be well-cared for. This is for the best." He says sternly, voice pinched.
And then he leaves.
Your heart shatters.
Everything is a blur after that. You’re gently guided along towards an empty nest room, the same one you'd first met him at, there are some things with both your scents on it but they feel sterile, washed anew.
Your hands start trembling. Your eyes start to water. Your lips quiver. Your throat feels tight, choked and dry. Your body feels feverish, hot and restless.
Zhongli rejected you.
“Your majesty please calm down."
[Useless.]
[Moron.]
[Whore.]
You could no longer breathe, hear nor see. You feel like you're drowning, unable to process what just happened. Your mate…your precious mate…he…he…
He abandoned you.
“Your majesty…?"
You scream.
#genshin x you#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#zhongli x reader#zhongli x you#genshin imagines#genshin impact imagines#crys writes#fem reader#LohK#just in case (?)#minors dni#c l i f f h a n g e r :)))))#I am in my evil era (?)#zgvcgjahbcajsncaj gods the emotions and issues here are so complex pls talk to me about the fic I will happily rant a lot#I love dragoness reader so much is2g#I want her to be happy#bit it'll be a journey until there#shoutout to honorary sisterwive guizhong speedwagon and her tiny husband for their cameos (????)#golden kois are my fav genshin fish can you tell?#also I decided on silk flowers and later remembering of all the variaties zl talks about during the archon quest and lmao#anyway ty all ILU byeeee
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for the ask game!
10, 14, 24, 28, 57!
Thanks, Sara!
10. Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?
Overall it tends to be that multiple WIPs = I'm struggling and focused on one = I'm inspired. But I don't tend to be inspired, lol! I must be really consumed by a certain fic for it to get my undivided attention! Or it might be that I have a longer WIP, then an idea for a oneshot strikes and I switch to that for a couple of days until it's finished. Right now I have a few WIPs and nothing's working out the way I want it, so I'm switching between them (or, I was - at this moment I'm mostly on a break).
14. What is your favorite location and position to write in?
Sitting position, no contest. On a computer, at a desk. Lately my absolute favourite is at work - the chair is more comfortable, I have a bigger computer screen than my laptop at home and there's plenty of light coming in! If it wasn't for the clients and phone calls interrupting me, they would be the perfect writing conditions. :P
24. How do you choose whose POV to write in?
Hah I almost asked you this one because I'm struggling with it and could use the input, lol!
Oneshot ideas usually come with a POV attached, but for longer stories, I have lots of trouble deciding. When the story is romance-focused, I usually go for a third person limited and switch between characters (focusing mostly on one or two main characters, with the occasional interlude when something external happens) because it allows the reader to share the frustrations of the main character who doesn't know what the other is thinking.
Omniscient narrator works better for action or comedy, though I've done it in romance too - mostly when I'm looking at a couple as a couple, rather than as two individuals in the process of getting to know each other.
BTW the above are not conscious choices - I had to sit back and think about my stories and the POVs I've used in them 😂 Maybe now that I figured my thoughts out, I won't have so much trouble with choosing a POV!
28. What area of writing do you want to improve in?
I want to write longer stories! And honestly I don't know exactly what I need to work on for that, because I've written a few long stories without serious problems and yet I find the very idea of embarking on another one of them positively daunting. Perhaps I need to learn how to push through the inevitable moments of writer's block, the self-doubt and the rest of similar problems that are bound to arise during the lengthy process of writing a longfic!
57. How conscious are you about including symbolism or foreshadowing in your fics?
I wouldn't say I have any particular fervour for symbolism, though if something plays an important role in the story and it's not just filler, I like it to have a meaning. The curtains are blue because you're in the Ravenclaw common room. XD
Foreshadowing is more my thing! If I know what happens later in the story, and I can foreshadow it, I do. Of course, I usually don't xD so what I usually do is: as I move forward in the story, I either let something I wrote earlier give me an idea ("oooh I had written X before, I can refer to it here again!"), or, less often, I write the new part, then I go back and add the foreshadowing if there's a good place for it. I don't like to be very blatant, that said, but I like to work with consistent patterns so one thing leads to another.
(Ask game here! Come play!)
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cw: pregnancy, kids (you guys have a daughter together), fwb’s, angst with a bit of a hopeful ending, refers to you as ‘girl’ once
Friends with benefits Bakugou who never really got over his ego to fully commit to you. You’re a little ashamed to admit it, but when you fell pregnant, you thought that things would change. That the whole “no feelings” aspect would’ve been dropped, that he would’ve embraced you fully.
But he just…didn’t? If anything, he distanced himself away from you, became so formal like you were another coworker he would address. It was heartbreaking, going through your first pregnancy feeling so, so alone, but having to grin and bear it the whole way through.
He supported you though in every way that he could. He never missed an appointment, would trek to your house during late nights whenever you craved something. He even moved you in to his own apartment during your last trimester, but a couple months after your baby was born, you went back home. You never felt unwelcome, but you couldn’t pretend to be a happy family when he slept in the guest room every night.
So now, you coparent quite easily. At least, it seems easy to Bakugou, but really, it’s all a facade.
In all honesty? He thinks he’s a fuck up. An idiot. The stupidest, shittiest person who’s ever existed.
He thought what he was doing was enough, that the words he didn’t say carried across oceans, formulated into titles that he never verbalized. So when you told him you would be happy to coparent, his world felt upended suddenly, as he holds his tiny little baby girl in his arms.
Coparent? How could a couple coparent? Where did he go wrong? (He only slept in the guest room to give you and baby space, only moved you in late because you lived so far away and you were getting so big. He never said I love you because he was too embarrassed to say it out loud. He didn’t know he had to say it out loud to solidify it. He thought you just knew.)
So it’s why his heart breaks when he catches a glimpse of curly blond hair and red eyes in the grocery store. He tries to duck behind an aisle, but his baby would recognize him anywhere. (It’s true; you’ve sent many videos of her recognizing him on billboards and tv commercials and magazines.)
“Bakugou?” You call, ducking around the corner to catch a glimpse of him. He tries to act nonchalant like he’s looking at cans of soup, tries not to cringe at your formal name. He turns when you come into view, eyes drinking in your attire. His heart breaks a little when he recognizes the shirt you took in your second trimester, still has the pic you sent him of you grinning as you show off what you stole.
“Hey.” Bakugou greets gruffly, mouth pulled tight, but it cracks into a grin when his daughter starts squealing. She’s in the front part of the shopping cart, twisting her little chunky body to get out and get to him. She damn near screams when he sets his basket down to pick her up, rubbing his nose to hers.
“How ya doing, squirt?” He asks quietly, pecking at her chubby cheeks as she instantly starts babbling to him. He holds her close to his chest, eyes full of pure love for his baby girl, and it makes your heart squeeze so tight you think it might burst.
“This isn’t your neck of the woods.” You mutter, head tilting to the side as you take in your daughters excited face to see her father. Bakugou’s eyes snap to your own, letting his daughter play with his fingers in the meanwhile. He looks embarrassed, cheeks a dusty pink as he grumbles and looks away.
“I was just picking up some stuff to drop off for her. Was gonna text you and see if you were home,” he replies, and something tells you that it’s a lie. But you don’t pester him about it, just nod a few times, taking in the sight.
He looks so good like that, in his compression shirt and sweats, his hair mussed from your daughters incessant pulling. He’s grinning at her, but looks so bashful when he turns to you, like he’s thinking about things he knows he shouldn’t, like he has a boatload to say but can’t cough up.
And if you were a mind reader, you’d be so fucking right. He can’t help but reminisce on before you got pregnant, the nights spent with you. The day you told him you were having a girl, the tears you cried when you delivered her. He thinks, filled with so much guilt the entire time, that he wants another one. With you.
“‘S it okay if I walk my favorite girls home?” He asks you gruffly, nibbling on your daughters cheeks to hear her giggle again, uncaring of the drool she leaves on his hand. You feel your eyes widen at his term for you, face suddenly flushing. Favorite? You, his favorite?
Something tells you that you shouldn’t fall down the rabbit hole that is Bakugou Katsuki and his suppressed emotions and shitty ego. But there’s another something that tells you to trust it this time, to let things happen organically and without expectation. So you do.
“I’m sure she would love to show her daddy the new toy her grandma just brought her.” You tell him, giggling when he rolls his eyes at the mention of his mother. But he walks with you the entire time you finish up your grocery order, holding your daughter the whole time and pays for your groceries despite repeatedly telling him that he doesn’t have to.
He pushes her in the stroller stored underneath the shopping cart on the way home, making small conversation. And when you’re halfway home, does he reach for your hand. Only to cross the cross walk though, he tells himself, only for your protection. But he doesn’t let go until you’re in your own place, and even then, he’s close by the entire time. He helps you put away groceries, remembers where everything is like he lives here.
And for some reason, the familiarity makes your heart ache a little more than you would like it to.
#full of sadness tonight srry#but I’m obsessed with this idea actually#I wanna expand on it even more in a fic#I don’t like to write angst for him but this idea is just :(#he’s so shitty at communicating his feelings and you hate assuming things#so many things are just left unsaid for so long that you just force yourself to get over it and move on#and he’s so confused and so angry that you could leave him like that#but he never had you in the first place now did he?#ohh it makes me wanna sob#obviously in the end you get back together and have 98 more kids 🙄#but the journey along the way is RUFF#okay I’m done writing my wrist hurts lol#bakugou treats! 🍬#—new treat in the streets! 🍫#dad bkg
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Doctor Who: s04e13, "Journey's End"
[voice of rtd] hey what if your best friend in the whole entire universe absorbed a fractured piece of your consciousness to save you (and whole of reality) from total destruction? and what if she was human—too desperately, brilliantly, tragically human—and the searing, deadly heat of all that knowledge was too much for her mind to bear? and what if the only way to pull her back from the edge of annihilation involved wiping all memory of you from her mind? and what if she could never be allowed to remember you? but as long as she was out there, somewhere, alive, then that was enough. then that had to be enough, because what other choice is there? and what if the story ends as it always does, as it always has— with you, in an empty spaceship, alone, at the edge of the universe?
...
would that be fucked up or WHAT? hahaha
#rtd when i catch you#doctor who#dw#dw spoilers#doctor who spoilers#thank god for the children in need specials#doctordonna#tentoo#tenth doctor#the tenth doctor#donna noble#journey's end#dw angst#doctorwhogifs#doctor who gifs#doctor who angst#my gifs#my writing#david tennant#catherine tate#flash warning#flashing gif#flashing cw#tw flashing#gifs#flashing lights
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“宫、商、角、徵、羽” Gōng Shāng Jué Zhǐ Yǔ · The pentatonic scale in Chinese music
"Gong Shang Jue Zhi Yu" was first documented in the Spring and Autumn Period more than 2600 years ago. The five tones are the basic scales of Chinese ancient music. Compared to the seven-tone scale of Western music - minus the semitone ascending "fa" and "si", Gong is roughly equivalent to 1 (Do), Shang is roughly equivalent to 2 (Re), Jue is roughly equivalent to 3 (Mi), Zhi is roughly equivalent to 5 (So), and Yu is roughly equivalent to 6 (La). In the Tang Dynasty, “合、四、乙、尺、工” "Hé Sì Yǐ Chǐ Gōng" were used.
云之羽 My Journey To You · 2023
#云之羽#yun zhi yu#my journey to you#cdramasource#asiandramasource#dailyasiandramas#dramasource#chineseartistsinc#cdramanet#chinesemedia#cdramaedit#cdramagifs#chinese drama#cdrama#caps#chinese stuff#can you tell im trying to mimic the chess animation in the drama i did try to recreate the flipping and spinning effect and it didnt work#and then remaking the pentagon with the circles took 500 hours 🥴#pulling my hair out once again doing the write up i drafted few massive paragraphs about the music and origins of this too#but i dont understand music so that was hard to understand to translate and write up 五音不全说的就是我#and then i remembered that this is for a tumblr post on a chinese drama and not a music essay so i deleted it 😂
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sousou no frieren ★ 07
#sousou no frieren#frieren: beyond journey's end#frierenedit#frieren#userroh#usermoh#himawaari#usergojoana#userkyaa#userjenny#usermoonz#useralphonse#mine#im probably gonna post more from this...mainly the nature-y bits cause its so pretty#and ill probably work backwards#not that anyone cares lololol but just in case any DOES care hehe#i just like to write out my thoughts
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ohhh i love your facets of knowledge au!!! it's giving me immense brain rot but i want to ask, after the ancients sealed the beast inside the soul jam were there any complications afterwards? i would imagine the first few days of being sealed, some (sm most likely) would throw a fuse at being sealed again, and how do the ancients handle during that??
wagh thank you so much!! Brain rot 🤝 And yes, you're right on the money- the first month or so was agonizing for most of the Ancients, whose willpower is all that's standing between the Beasts and the Soul Jam. Most tried all they could to gain control, Shadow Milk cookie especially - "blowing a fuse" is putting it lightly, really. The fit he throws in canon is nothing compared to the hours of angry insults and jabs that began the two's sharing of a body, and even worse, Pure Vanilla can FEEL every inch of deep-seated vicious anger emanating from Shadow Milk. It's not long before he realizes the other isn't as affected as he'd like by the outrage, so he switches to and utilizes most what he knows best- trickery. For their early time together, Pure Vanilla is constantly subject to visions and other hallucinations induced by Shadow Milk, doing everything possible to manipulate, guilt trip, traumatize, and break him into submitting his soul jam. PV doesn't fully give in, of course, but that doesn't mean it isn't harrowing. It's all he can do to keep his sense of self and not snap under it- he's certainly the type to have dealt with moral intrusive thoughts before, but this was on another level. It's unfortunately pretty easy to figure out what makes PV tick and what'll hurt him most, which SM used to his advantage fully for a while.
Eventually Shadow Milk does bore of this too, letting up on his relentless attack, and Pure Vanilla is inspired by Hollyberry to try and help the corrupted. However, for the time the Beast had almost full control over the Truth-bearing Ancient's shoestring mental state.
#cookie run kingdom#crk#shadow milk cookie#pure vanilla cookie#cookie run#facets of knowledge au#shadowvanilla#i should write some of my vision for their journey to not being toxic soon#prism art#our art#digital art
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me waiting for those amazing twst writers to start writing again:
#They've been on hiatus for 2000 years now#On my knees begging for them to write again#They haven't update their masterlist since the year 1876#Hope they're doing okay#Hoping the best on their writing journey#twst#twisted wonderland#heartslabyul#savanaclaw#scarabia#pomefiore#ignihyde#diasomnia#octavinelle#twst fanfic#twst x reader#twst x y/n#twst x mc
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