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cosmicisms · 11 months

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diluc x m!reader nsfw drabble

warnings: dom!diluc/sub!reader, pwp, you’re a brat, kinda brat taming, bondage (wrists are tied), light choking, diluc slaps you once.

authors note: i’m so whipped for him.

diluc had his body pressed on top of yours, rendering you unable to squirm away from beneath him. his soft red hair was mussed and tickled the sides of your face as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sore lips.

you threaded your fingers through his locks and gave them a little tug, earning yourself a small growl from the redhead on top of you. you knew diluc liked having his hair pulled, and you knew the implications of what would happen if you continued to rile him up like this.

“careful.” diluc murmured lowly, nipping your bottom lip as he pulled away to draw in a deep breath. “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, sweetheart.”

the term of endearment, usually so innocent and harmless, now caused you to get hot under the collar. diluc was a massive tease, something many people never expected under his aloof and blunt exterior. this only server to make your desire for him increase by tenfold.

his large and calloused palm caressed your cheek softly as his free hand roamed freely beneath your shirt, causing you to flinch at the warmth of his touch.

his fingertips brushed lightly over your hardened nipples, causing you to let out a breathy moan, watching the smirk spread across diluc’s face. “don’t stop with those noises now, dear.”

you didn’t dare disobey him, no. you knew well and true that diluc didn’t allow for meddlers or troublemakers in his life. you had stepped out of line before, and he had made you sorely regret it.

…however, there was that lurking sense of curiosity within you. the devil’s whisper, urging you to brat off a little bit. push a few more of his buttons. dangerous little thoughts like that.

diluc was now lost underneath the spell of lust, easily pulling shaky moans and low whines from you with his skilled lips abusing your soft spots, and his dexterous fingers rubbing over your nipples.

“hands above your head.” he instructed, his voice husky with a piercing look to accompany it. you knew it was a bad idea, you knew but…

“what if i don’t?”

the words tumbled out of your mouth before you could think twice. they hung in the air between you two, the silence an opportunity to rethink your decisions.

diluc clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “very well, then.” he hummed. suddenly, he reached for your wrists, pinning them down with a single hand as he hovered over you. there were no second chances this time. no “what did you say?”, no “would you like to think about that again?”

no. tonight, diluc was not in the mood.

and you didn’t regret your words. not yet at least.

he kept his fiery red eyes on you as he moved up to pull his shirt off, unbuttoning it deliberately slowly to watch you squirm as more and more of his built form was exposed to you.

diluc whispered in your ear, his hot breath making you shiver as he tied the shirt around your wrists, making absolutely sure that you wouldn’t be able to escape your new restraints. “why is that you must be a brat, despite the many punishments i’ve given you?” he asked with exasperation.

“i guess it’s just in your nature.” he shrugged and studied your form, before moving to lift your shirt up, now fully exposing your chest. his hot breath fanned over your sensitive chest, making you yelp as his lips connected with your nipple.

“diluc~!” you called his name out, your voice landing on deaf ears as he continued to lick and suck at your nipple, his other hand twisting and pulling the nub of the opposite one. “p-please, ‘m sensitive there~!”

“i don’t care.” diluc’s tone was cold as he reprimanded you with a stone gaze. “this could’ve been avoided if you had followed my orders like a good boy, but you just had to be a brat, didn’t you?”

your face burned as he leered at you, once more attaching his lips to your other nipple. “ughh~ what, can’t handle some playful resistance, then?” you rebuked with a huff.

diluc’s hand was quick to wrap around your throat, giving it a light squeeze. your eyes widened as he did so, not missing how his eyes darkened with lust as he spotted how your adam’s apple bobbed in your throat.

“don’t push me any further, brat.” his voice was low and threatening, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “unless you want to be punished further?”

his eyes combed over your helpless form as a smug little smirk made its way to his face. “i bet you’d like that, though, wouldn’t you?” he mocked you, giving your throat another squeeze as he chuckled darkly.

chewing the inside of your cheek, you avoided his sharp gaze, refusing to admit anything. however, diluc tightening his grip ever so slightly made you lose it.

“yes, i would!” you exclaimed, face alight with an embarrassed blush. “i would enjoy if you punished me further.”

your admittance only served to further diluc’s pleasure in humiliating you. “is that so?” he murmured, removing his hand from your throat to gently caress your cheek. “well then, i can’t just deprive you of something that would bring you enjoyment, can i?”

you looked up at him, deciding to meet his eyes again. excitement bubbled in your stomach, your cock beginning to strain against your pants.

diluc slapped you lightly, nothing to leave a mark or really hurt, but enough to let you know that he was still very displeased with your bratty behaviour. the impact made you gasp and glare up at him.

“don’t get excited. i can deprive you of your enjoyment, and i will deprive you of your enjoyment.” he whispered, smoothing his hand over your cheek. “that is, unless, you’re willing to beg good and hard for it.”

he paused to let you think about his words, thoroughly taking pleasure in the way your facial expressions contorted into one of reluctance and frustration.

“n-no, that’s embarrassing.” you huffed, rolling your eyes. trying to play off your desires was futile, as diluc eyed the bulge in your pants with a raised eyebrow.

“having you beneath me with your hands bound above your head is also embarrassing.” he snapped back with a teasing lilt to his voice. “now beg.”

you felt the colour spread across your cheeks, only making diluc laugh with a cruel glint in his eye.

“oh, that look on your face is priceless. come on now, brat. beg for me good enough, and i’ll let you have me in whatever way you desire.”

#✩°｡⋆⸜ ✮ genshin #genshin impact #diluc genshin impact #diluc smut #diluc x y/n #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc x male reader #diluc x male reader smut #genshin impact smut #⋆｡‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚. thirsts

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big-barn-bed · 1 year

Note

Top 5 Paul boyfriends

omg marry me

(these are in no particular order)

-Robert Fraser aka Groovy Bob aka Paul’s emotional support art dealer/drug dealer/fag :’) Most interesting man of the swinging London era! There’s something so special and soft about how Paul always talks about Robert. “I expect people to die so I don't feel a loss but there's a vacuum where he used to be.” And in a letter sent from Paul to Robert when Robert was in prison from The Rolling Stones drug bust, “Jane sends her love, love, and is baking a file cake. I send mine.” aughhh <\3

-Tara Browne… I wish there was more written about him! We know he was very important to Paul. He was the person Paul first took acid with and was with Paul in the Great Liverpool Moped Accident of ‘65! I always wondered why Paul invited him to Liverpool for his family holiday asdkskj. Paul describes him as “a nice Irish guy, very sensitive bloke. I’d see him from time to time, and enjoyed being around him.” which is basically a declaration of passionate love in paul-speak.

-Peter Asher! Underrated Paul boyfriend. I’m not saying Paul only stayed with Jane as long as he did because he had a whole thing for her family… but I’m not NOT saying that. The songs he gave him! The wrapping paper he designed and kept secret as a gift to Peter and the Indica gallery!

(I’ll also just mention Paul’s never ending kink for high society types. He loved hearing Robert talk about his time at Eton, specifically the ‘fagging system’. Tara was heir to the Guinness fortune, not to mention son of a member of the House of Lords. The whole Asher family was a wet dream come true.)

-Denny Laine (is in my ears and in my eyes..🎶) listen. LISTEN. Look at any picture of Paul, Linda, and Denny in the wings era and tell me they weren’t a god’s honest throuple. You can’t. I know it in my life’s blood they got it on down and dirty for YEARS. Linda especially is allll over him in so many pictures and I don’t blame her! He’s a cutie! But they all had fuck-nasty sex.

-John Lennon. Yes, the world’s greatest and most tragic love story etc etc. fanfic tropes galore! Meet cute, mutual pining, only one bed, father doesn’t approve, found family, let’s run away together etc etc

Me: so anyway John had mommy issues and Paul had daddy issues. And John was sort of daddy and Paul was sort of mommy but they just weren’t enough for each other. They were somehow the most and least compatible people on the planet but the love was there and it changed everything.

My mom: 👁️👄👁️

#it’s killing me not to add George and Ringo #BUT they weren’t exactly boyfriends as much as the others #ringo is the number one boyfriend of current Paul tho btw #and I could wax poetic about George and Paul’s relationship and how it was as romantic as j&ps #ask #lmao I know this was a joke ask but I took this so seriously

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scribblecake · 8 months

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How I've Missed You

Warnings: NSWF, swearing.

@zeezeecave @shanas-baby @blkbinz @imjusthere2readbruv @mybonafidefeelings @xenaizogie

what even is proofreading at this point?

Pure smut. No plot. Just smut.

I have no excuse. Enjoy(?)

~***~

Rain showered down upon red dirt. Thunder rolled and crashed as cool water washed over thirsting greenery. Nanisca welcomed the calming droplets. They left chilled streaks across her heated flesh while she made her way through thick underbrush.

Hushed determination fueled rippling muscle to move silently over mossy stones, over fallen trunks, and then finally through a gurgling creek. Nanisca only stopped when she came to a small cottage covered in blooming vines. Elation tugged a smile to stoic lips and the general sauntered to its carved front door, giving it three rapid knocks.

Shuffling, then a loud bang followed by a harried “Get lost! We’re closed!” came from within.

Nanisca bit her lip to keep from chuckling. “Even for me?”

Another bang, the clinking glass bottles, then frantic scrambling sounded from behind the door before it was hastily swung open. Peering up at her was a short, slender woman with shoulder-length braids. Bits of dried most and leaves clung to her braids. A variety of mystery concoctions smeared her clothes. Deep brown eyes peered up at Nanisca from thick lashes. Both women froze for a moment. Eyes locked and, for a moment, it was as if the very Earth had stopped breathing…

Then there was an explosion of motion.

Lips crashed together, hands found purchase in muscled curves, bodies locked together like puzzle pieces. The two pulled apart. Breathless gasps steamed the air with a pleasant tension. Anticipation, longing, excitement. So many energies crackled like lightning in the storm between them.

Wordlessly, Nanisca was pulled inside and roughly pushed onto a plush pile of blankets. She couldn’t hold it this time. A chuckle escaped her lips at her lover’s urgency. However when rolling onto her back she was met with an unexpectedly angry glare.

“I haven’t heard a word from you in six months, you ass!”

Nanisca’s smile dropped. “I know…”

“I’ve fucking missed you! I’ve been worried sick!”

The general flinched at the raw pain in her lover’s voice. She hadn't meant to go so long without visiting. But battle, politics, and duty kept her away. The few times Nanisca had to herself, she had been far too exhausted and bruised to make the long trek into the jungle. Her hand reached out to pull her love down into her arms.

“Apologies my darling dove… the palace has been nothing but chaos as of late. Not to mention new trainees that demand the rest of my time, attention, and energy... but I’m here now~” As she spoke, Nanisca placed tender kisses to her love’s collar bones. An unamused hum greeted her in response.

But mere proximity to her love clouded her mind. Nanisca boldly let her strong hands grip at silken thighs. She prayed all that she couldn’t say would translate through her touch. Brown eyes gazed down at her full of warring emotions. Relief, anger, joy, and love, love, love.

Velvety lips kissed at the corner of the warrior’s mouth. “I love you Nani, but for fucks sake!”

Nanisca chuckled lowly before fully entangling herself in her love’s warm body.

“Oh dove. You know not of the pain I had to endure. I’ve had to go about my days aching for you, but unable to drown in you.” Plump lips ghosted over the shell of an ear before the general nipped at its lobe. “I’d love to show you just how much I’ve missed you~”

~***~

“Mh, again~” Nanisca husked. Sweat dripped down her toned body as she panted and rested her chin on her love’s shoulder. Kisses littered every inch of skin available. A sly tongue even made an appearance. It dragged hotly over the soft expanse lain bare before it.

“A-again? Darling, I don’t think I can- mh!~ ... t-that was already m-my fourth…”

Nanisca gave a gentle coo. Her hand came up to work tantalizing patterns on heaving and sensitive breasts. “And I can give you many more. Would you like that, dearest?”

Her lover squirmed in her lap. A lustful ‘yes’ escaped the flushed and sweaty woman. “Mmh, but a small rest first.”

Nanisca couldn’t help but smirk to herself. How lucky she was to have such a beauty desperately needy for her. Reluctant hands withdrew themselves as shuddering forms shifted to sit upright.

Outside, the rhythmic driving of pouring skies added a comfortable layer of static to fill the space. Rain combined with the heat of the day resulted in steamy heat in the small cottage. Sex saturated the air with its heady scent. Wanton desire and passion ignited to near sinful levels, leaving Nanisca wanting to make a mess of her woman all over again.

Yet she forced herself to stay still. Instead the warrior shifted to grab a jug of water that was kept to the side of the bed and passed it to her love. Sensual calm spread over the duo as they caught their breath. Though throbbing heat persisted in Nanisca’s core. It begged for attention. Demanded it.

“Dove, I’d very much like to have you again.”

The other woman paused. A sparkle that the warrior knew all too well, shimmered in her eyes. Then a hand lifted, “Come and take me then, warrior.” she breathed with a crook of her finger.

Lust coiled and Nanisca sprung to action. She surged forward, all rippling muscles and impatience. The next few hours were spent with both women completely entangled in one another. True to her word, Nanisca showered her sweet dove with release after release while basking in touch herself.

The warrior lost herself in the pleasure those gentle hands gave her. They clawed at her back, caressed sweetly at her jaw, twisted her budding nipples and made her feel the love she craved. Her hands slid down slender legs to grab them at their ankles. Kneeling on her knees she hooked the legs up and over her shoulders.

Her love now lay half suspended with her glistening cunt presented to the ceiling. Nanisca wasted no time in burying her face in the sopping folds. Fervent sucks and an agile tongue filled the room with sinful music. Each desperate lap was harmonized with wet slurping that drove them both wild.

Eyes rolled back. Breathy moans split the air. The general let the sticky sweet nectar coat her mouth. She fully submitted to it. How she missed this taste! Nanisca let the sapid juices soak her cheeks and chin before fixing her lips around a swollen clit. Her cheeks hollowed with suction, ripping a wail from her upside down lover. The woman in question held a blissed out expression on her face. Tears dotted the corners of her doe eyes.

However, the warrior’s own need made itself known again. Aching throbs jolted her core and made it weep with arousal. A growl rumbled deep in her chest as she arched forward to lay her love on the flat of her back. An arm hooked down to lift a leg. Nanisca burned with want as she hovered her dripping center over her beloved’s.

Lower lips kissed. Heat boiled against wet heat in an explosion of pure ecstacy. Sensation jolted pleasure up the warrior’s spine. Hips canted forward as sinful groans escaped them both. Sweat dotted her brow, dripping down her abdomen while it flexed with the steady pace she set. Nanisca threw her head back at the unbridled euphoria that coursed through her body.

Breathy whines sounded from beneath her. They grew in pitch and frequency with each thrust of the general’s hips. Silken hands climbed their way up her stomach to rub electrifying circles on her swollen nipples, drawing out deep groans.

The warrior angled herself downward, “I’ve dreamed of seeing you like this. so. many. times.” she growled while pointing each word with a thrust. “The sheer amount of times I’ve had to sit in the council with your moans echoing in my mind, it's shameful really…”

A whine warbled from her lover’s throat. The other woman could only buck her hips weakly in response. Arousal tightened in Nanisca’s core. Hips snapped forward and began to command a mind numbing pace. She angled herself so that their dripping buds rubbed against each other constantly. Her core clenched as she hurtled towards her release.

The general was vaguely aware that the bed was shaking violently. Maybe even a little too much. The headboard banged out an obscene rhythm as it hit the wall. It was oddly satisfying for Nanisca’s ego. Though smug gratification quickly morphed to panic, then all consuming cockiness.

C R A C K !

T H U D !

C R A S H !

Gravity and momentum threw Nanisca forward and down as the bed fell down from under her knees. Legs hooked around her waist and she threw caution to the wind. Without missing a beat the thrusts continued.

“You broke my fucking bed!~”

“Yes.”

“You shedemon! Dont fucking stop!~”

And just like that they were tumbling over the edge into oblivion. Coils of arousal snapped, unleashing torrents of boiling wetness. Cores spasmed and clenched, breath stuttered and gasped, all while loud cries split through the hazy twilight.

Nanisca’s chest heaved. She rolled onto her back, drawing her love’s languid frame into her arms. Breathless and satisfied post sex tranquility weighed their limbs.

Rain gently tapped a soothing melody on dense undergrowth. It lulled the pair into comfortable silence as they soaked in each other’s company. After a while, Nanisca felt a shift in her arms and she met flashing eyes with her own. Lips twisted into a mischievous smirk.

“I don’t think I’ve quite gotten your point… how much did you really miss me?”

~***~

#nanisca #the woman king #hot damn 🥵#smut #smut fic #sapphic #im gay as fuck #gay panic #viola davis #fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 4 months

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Óen (Part 4)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Thunderbirds Are Go and HTTYD crossover.

Sorry this is writing so slow. I can only manage a few hundred words a day in between work and other committments so it seems like this fic is going soooo slow.

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for all their help with this fic and for fielding my crazy every day this week so far :D

Have some Virgil :D I hope you enjoy.

-o-o-o-

Alan was excitable.

As they made their way out of the infirmary building, he was quite happy and even proud to point out things as they encountered them.

The village was smaller than Berk and only consisted of a handful of buildings with very few people out and about. It was like Berk in that it was settled on steep land, caught between a bay and a massive hill. Several dragons sat perched on rocky ridge lines above the buildings. They appeared to be sunning in the weak sunlight.

Alan was quite happy to point out Óen and a big green one called Dá. There were also a number of tiny white dragons, far smaller than a terrible terror, more like some of the sea birds. In fact, they were sharing roosts beside several puffins.

It was reassuring to see at least something familiar.

The houses were of an odd design. Most were round and built from stone, at least at the base. Sometimes wood made up the top half with steep roofs to shed the snow that no doubt fell in the winter.

There was no snow. Summer’s brief relief was exactly that.

But right now, all he wanted to see was Toothless.

“Virgil keeps all the injured dragons safe. Máthair taught him the lore and he helps save people, too, but he cares much for the dragons as well. Though not everything in the lore works for them.”

Hiccup blinked. That was certainly true. The few times one of their dragons had been struck ill, what little cure they could find was always vastly different from what might help a human.

And sometimes downright weird.

Alan led him to another large building, bigger than the one they had left. He stopped Hiccup with a hand in front of the two massive wooden doors.

“You have to be quiet in here. The dragons are sensitive to sound and Virgil gets cranky if you disturb them.”

Hiccup nodded, desperate to see his friend, but ever so curious about what was inside.

Alan pulled the massive door open just a little and stuck his head in. “Virgil?” It was whispered.

“He’s awake. You can come in.”

Alan’s face lit up and he pulled the door wide.

Just like the infirmary building, there was a massive fire burning in the middle of the room, and oil lamps against the walls. The moment the door opened, Hiccup was assailed by the scent of whatever it was they were burning. It was like fish, but overlain with some kind of herb or spice.

He swallowed as he spotted Toothless curled up on one of the sleeping pallets ringing the room. The rest were empty. Was this an infirmary for dragons?

With no words, Hiccup slipped into the room and hurried over to his friend, dropping down beside the night fury’s head.

Toothless crooned at him.

His scales were warm against his cheek.

“He’s going to be okay.” The deep baritone belonged to the smith who stepped out of the shadows. He was no longer wearing smith leathers, but dressed in a red shirt tied across a pale linen undershirt. His pants were well worn and stained. His strong boots were much the same. “He has strained his wings, however, and will need some time to heal.”

Hiccup stroked Toothless’ head. “I’m so sorry, bud.”

More crooning and a distinct impression that Toothless forgave him.

“He doesn’t blame you. Though I have to say, he was not particularly impressed with that storm. Cóic had to have a word with him.” The smith sat down on the edge of Toothless’ pallet beside them. “He’s been far more worried about you.”

Hiccup continued to stroke Toothless, but frowned at the smith in query. “You’re Virgil?”

The smith arched an eyebrow at Alan. “That I am. Apologies for the lack of introduction. I presume you are Hiccup?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Quite a stir you’ve created around here. We don’t encounter other dragon riders very often, much less another night fury. Óen is rather excited. We feared there would be no more. Do you know of any other night furies?”

The man had a hope in his eyes that Hiccup had to dash. “No. I’m afraid not. Toothless and I have been searching, but no, we don’t know of any others.” Toothless crooned again, tilting his head to snuggle up with Hiccup. “He’s going to be okay?”

“He needs a few days of rest at least. He’s tired himself and there is pain when he extends. I could not find any broken bones and other than that, he’s very healthy.”

Hiccup blinked. “Toothless let you examine him?”

Virgil quirked a smile. “Cóic has her ways of calming the injured. Your friend certainly put up a fight. We didn’t want to separate the two of you but Máthair was concerned you might be more injured. I’m glad to see that you are not.”

“Cóic?”

“That’s John’s dragon. Wait until you see her!” Alan earned himself an arched eyebrow from Virgil.

“My brother John’s dragon is the heart of our commitment.” The smith rose from where he was sitting. “You should walk Toothless daily at least, preferably more, and do some basic wing stretches so he doesn’t lose any movement. I can show you. But first we should meet with Scott. We can use the excuse to get both of you out of the infirmary for your first walk.”

Hiccup stared at Virgil a moment. Well, that was a whole lot of information that mostly told him little. “Who are you people?”

“I believe Scott has the exact same question for you.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #how to train your dragon #httyd #httyd fanfiction #thunderbirds fanfiction #hiccup haddock #virgil tracy #alan tracy #nuttyfic #toothless #crossover

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kingmagnificoofrosas · 4 months

Note

I have a question to ask our majesty, King Magnífico. Before the interview with Asha. Could you tell us more about the previous interviews? How did they go? What were your observations for rejecting those people?

The only thing I heard was a man crying after his last interview with you. I would like to know more details about that 👀

"Oh dear ...." *sighs deeply* "Unpleasant memories ... but since you asked, I'll answer. Please, have a seat." *gestures to a couch with lots of pillows in different sizes* "I didn't think looking for an apprentice or assistant would go ... hmm ... well- end up in a catastrophe to put it nicely."

“An apprentice?” Amaya’s head falls into a surprised tilt.

“Why, yes! With my kingdom constantly growing, my responsibilities and my work grows as well. This is the perfect timing! And I’ve been thinking about this for quite a while now.”

“It’s just … you’re so very specific about your work.”

“Exactly!” Magnifico says with a snap of his fingers. “If I could find someone who shares my ambitions and goals, is eager to learn from me and help me … just imagine!”

Amaya follows the king's energetic pacing. He would always start to pace when he’d become passionate about something. And this went both ways. He could be very convincing if he wanted to.

“I’m sure there are many willing to work for you, mi rey.”

“Yes, but I’ll have to make sure they’re right for this job.” He stops in his tracks, “I’ll give interviews!” And swiftly turns back around to face the queen. “Give the news. One applicant at a time. Starting today!”

“Today?”

“The sooner the better, don’t you think?” Magnifico chimes as he moves away toward the large set of stairs.

“Where do you want me to take the applicants then?” Amaya asks with a gesture of her hand.

“To my study.”

Her face falls slightly, “all the way up your tower?”

“All the way up my tower.” An amused smirk spreads on the king’s lips as he rests his arms behind his back. “See it as the first test. My assistant would have to walk those stairs every day.”

Amaya gives a little agreeing shrug. “Fine. I will bring the news.”

“Splendid!” Magnifico starts to head upstairs and adds, “Oh, and please tell Dahlia to send me my tea, like always.”

“Yes, mi rey.”

Yes, getting an assistant was a good idea. He’d been longing for someone he could share his passions with for years now. It was almost strange to him, why he hadn’t gotten that idea sooner.

Magnifico enters his study, crosses over to a reflective wall and waves his hand. The glass slides to each side and opens. Light of the early morning sun floods the room and makes the colorful liquids in their glass cases throw dancing rainbows on the stone tiled floor.

His gaze immediately lifts to a little sea of blue balls, hovering at the ceiling, and he smiles.

Warmth spreads in his chest as he watches them. His heart swelling with gladness and contentment.

His people.

His subjects.

He’s successfully kept them safe for over a decade now, and he would make sure it would keep staying this way.

Keep them safe. At all costs. Never let the past repeat.

Suddenly his sensitive hearing picks up a quiet chatter and rips him out of his trance. He almost chuckles to himself about how quickly Amaya found an applicant. Straightening his shoulders, he turns swiftly, ready to meet whoever was now in his study.

Magnifico waits until he hears Amaya close the doors and then enters.

Near the doors stands a young man something between eighteen and twenty-three. A gangly and shy looking thing, but that shouldn’t be a criteria.

The boy’s head turns. For a moment he freezes but then his mouth opens and Magnifico flinches at the squeal erupting like a sudden trumpet call.

“It’s you! It’s really you!” The boy cries, flailing his arms.

“Yes, it’s me.” Magnifico strides down towards the boy.

“I can’t believe it! I’m really here! I’m seeing this! Oh my goodness, I’m such a big fan and-”

“Thank you!” The king chuckles, “I appreciate your excitement. Now, you’re here today bec-”

“Because I’m going to be your assistant!”

“Because I’m looking for an assistant!” Magnifico corrects the boy.

“I know! This is incredible! You’re so awesome! I can’t believe that I’m here and that I’m talking to you and-”

Magnifico watches the boy rambling himself into a frenzy, almost hyperventilating. “That is … really nice! But let’s calm down a little, hm?” He rests his hand on the boy’s shoulder with a warm smile but instead of calming down, a high pitched squeal escapes the boy’s throat.

His eyes widen and his face goes pale. “He touched me!” He squeaks before his eyes roll back in their sockets and he slumps to the ground faster than Magnifico can grab him.

“Oh dear! That was unexpected.” The king dives down to shakes the boy’s shoulders gently. “Hey, can you hear me?”

Fluttering, the eyes of the boy open again. He mumbles something, seemingly disorientated.

“Are you alright?”

The boy meets the king’s concerned face and starts losing it entirely. Magnifico withdraws in bewilderment. He’d witnessed many swoon and faint at his mere appearance but he hadn’t anticipated his first applicant to fall into that category.

For a moment, Magnifico can do nothing but stare. To his relief the doors to his study fly open and Amaya bursts in. Rowan, the chief guard, at her heels.

“Alright Kiddo, let’s go!” The broad man effortlessly plucks the squirming boy off the ground and escorts him out as Magnifico adjusts his bangs and exhales through his lips.

“Oh my …” Amaya saunters over to the king. “Are you ok?”

“Yes … that was … What was that, Amaya?”

“I don’t know!” She shakes her head and joins his stare at the doors, as if the boy would burst back in any moment. “He was so calm when he stepped up!”

Magnifico clears his throat. “Anyway … that was enough for today! Maybe I was too quick with this ... I’ll receive the next applicant no sooner than next week. See to it that you won’t let another lunatic into my study!”

“Yes, mi rey!” Amaya dips down into a slight bow.

He nods, turns and moves back towards the glass wall. Back in the laboratory, he stops in front of one of the tall windows.

“Your tea must be ready.” Amaya adds quietly.

“Thank you.” He doesn’t turn around but keeps his gaze fixated on the horizon - over the teal rooftops to the glittering ocean in the distance.

This was only the first applicant. He tells himself. The next will go better.

☆ ~ ☆ ~ ☆

“You’re here today because you want to become my assistant.”

The man, somewhere in his thirties, nods.

“Tell me, why do you think you’re right for the job?”

“Uuuh … I don’t know?”

Magnifico’s smile drops slightly and his brows lift, “You don’t know?”

“My family and friends told me I was just right for the job! And now I’m here.”

“Uh huh.” The king’s brows lift higher, “well then, why does your family and your friends think you’re right for the job?”

The man shrugs his shoulders and Magnifico feels his patience run thin. “Ok, another question!” He pushes himself away from his counter, “what are your strengths? What are you good at?”

“I’m a good listener.”

“Good, what else?”

“I’m nice to people?”

Magnifico inhales, wipes over his face and massages his left temple for a few seconds. “That’s good that you’re nice to others, but there is much more to being my assistant than just being nice and good at listening!”

“Well, I can play flute!”

“You don’t say.” Magnifico’s expression falls into boredom.

“Would you like a demonstration?”

“No, I think we’re done here!”

“Oh, great!” The man chimes, “then I’m back home just ready for lunch! My wife makes wonderful baked potatoes with-”

“Yes, wonderful-” Magnifico quickly guides the man back to the hallway where Amaya waits.

“And her apple pie is outstanding too!”

Amaya’s brows furrow as the man passes her down the stairs without any complaint, happily proceeding to ramble to himself about the meals his wife can cook and if the laundry is already dry. “Uh …” Confused, she lifts her gaze back to the frowning king.

“I asked for an assistant, not a clueless court jester!”

“But he was nice, wasn’t he?”

“How are baked potatoes, apple pies and being able to play flute about to help me with my work?” Magnifico gestures and Amaya snickers.

"You like good meals."

Grumbling, he strides back into his study. “Very funny.”

◇ ~ ◇ ~ ◇

“Oh! Your majesty, it’s such an honor to meet you!”

Magnifico watches the woman in her twenties bow. “Thank you. I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Yes! Of course! Can I see the wishes now?”

“Excuse me?” Magnifico's face falls.

“You do get to see the wishes when you’re brought inside, right?”

“Who told you- One second!” He lifts his hand, “Don’t tell me you only came here in hopes to see the wishes!”

The woman fondles her fingers, “Well, and maybe get one granted too!”

Part of Magnifico aches for the fact this woman only cared for the wishes in the first place, the other is angered. Without another word, he passes the woman and opens the doors to his study, gesturing into the hallway. “You may leave!”

“Do I have the job?” The woman chirps and he has to fight his composure.

“No.” He says monotonously before shutting the doors again.

“The audacity!” Magnifico vents while striding up and down, waving his hands. “Can I see the wishes! Is this all they see in me? A source for favors?”

“They trust you, that’s why they ask you.” Amaya says.

“That’s not the point!” He turns, “You don’t understand how it feels! You’re not in my position! I want my assistant to see eye to eye with me! This is important to me!”

“Mi rey, this has only been the third applicant. More will come. A little more patience.”

“Patience! If every single applicant will end up like that then I won’t get an applicant at all!” Magnifico snaps with a flick of his cape. Then he calms and exhales through his gritted teeth. “I’m in my room. I'll see you at dinner!”

Amaya lets him leave and sighs.

The doors to the kings private chambers fall shut with a loud bang that for sure echoes through half the palace. Groaning Magnifico stomps into the middle and keps pacing. Back and forth and in a few tiny circles.

Why didn't anyone seem to really listen to him? Why did no one ever seem to really understand him? Finding an assistant and apprentice wasn't a decission he'd make lightly.

I must protect my people at all costs! Never again ... never again ... I must not let it happen again!

His shaking hands run through his hair and he paces again.

I need to calm down. Everything is fine. Nothing's happened. I'll find a good assistant. It's in my hands.

His eyes lift outside to the glowing horizon. Sighing tiredly, Magnifico drops onto his bed. Was it really that hard to find someone who'd see things like he did and feel the way he did?

“I’m a quick learner! I’m very ambitious and highly interested in alchemy!”

“Good! Very good!” Magnifico smiles. So far everything has gone well. “Go on!”

The girl nods. “If I don’t know something, I can learn it. I’m also ready to do smaller tasks!”

“Promising. But if you want to become my assistant, I need to be sure that I’m seeing eye to eye with you. And I need to be able to fully trust you!”

“You can, your majesty. That’s the point in having an assistant, no?”

Magnifico considers, then he nods as well. “Come, I want to show you something.”

Excited, the girl follows him into his laboratory and to the wishes. Her eyes widen as she spots the alchemy items around her. “Woah!”

“Normally I don’t bring anyone in here, but I need you to understand why I’m doing what I’m doing so I can-” He stops, “Don’t touch anything!”

The girl, who stands close to one of the glasses filled by some green liquid, quickly pulls her hand back with a sheepish grin and Magnifico shifts his gaze back up to the hovering balls. “The reason I keep the wishes in here is-” He hears glass clink and turns his head over his shoulder once more with a slightly stern pout, “Don’t touch!”

The girl reaches for another glass.

“No.”

Another glass.

“Don’t touch that! That either! Listen, if I tell you not to touch anything, I mean it! Do not touch anything, that’s an order!”

The girl nods energetically. “Yes sir! King Magnifico, sir!”

Magnifico sighs and rolls his eyes. Patience. He reminds himself. Give her a chance, she’s just curious, curiosity is good. “I was saying … Keeping the people of Rosas safe and sound is my highest priority! Everything I do is to make sure that-”

Amaya, who had been on her way to inform the king of a letter from a neighboring kingdom, almost trips at the last step as a loud explosion erupts behind the closed doors of the king's study. Eyes widened, she dives for the handles. Out of the slit between the doors a bluish smoke leaks into the hallway. As she opens the doors, she’s immediately wrapped in a cloud and stumbles back coughing and waving her hands.

Back inside the laboratory, Magnifico stands still as a pillar. His lips are pressed together firmly and one of his eyes twitches. Upon a twirl of his hand, the smoke flees through the open windows. For a few seconds, he closes his eyes and clenches his fists, biting down the anger that slowly bubbled up in his chest like lava in a volcano. After a deep breath, he turns to look at the girl, who still holds two - now empty - glasses. Her hair all poofed up like the tail of an angry cat, her face and clothes dyed blue.

“I’m sorry,” She chirps, “I couldn’t help myself! This liquid sparkled and I really wanted to know what would happen if I mixed it with this purple one …”

Magnifico doesn’t reply. He examines the wish bubbles to make sure they’re fine and then strides towards the girl, taking the glasses from her and placing them back on the counter.

“Am I in trouble now?”

“I told you not to touch anything!” He snaps, “you disregarded my order, endangered not only the wishes but me and yourself as well!”

“I’m really sorry, your majesty!” The girl bows.

Suddenly his posture relaxes and his gaze softens. “It’s ok.”

“Really?” She looks up at him in surprise.

“When I was young, I caused more than one explosion. Mistakes are there to be learned from, I hope you’ll learn from this one.”

“Oh!” The girl relaxes as well, “So I’m not in trouble?”

“No.” Magnifico sighs, “but I assume you already know that I will not take you as my assistant.”

“Yes, of course.” Again the girl bows, “and I’m truly sorry!”

“Apology accepted. Come, I’ll bring you to the doors.”

“Mi rey?” Amaya carefully slips into the study, “What happ- Oh!” clasping her hand in front of her mouth, she tries not to laugh. Magnifico is just as sprinkled in blue as the young girl next to him. One part of his hair hangs loosely down his forehead, the other resembles a lion struck by lightning.

“Don’t say anything!” He grumbles as he shoves the girl towards her, “bring her back down. No more applicants for today!”

Amaya nods. She almost reaches out for the girl's shoulders but pulls back so as not to get her hands blue as well.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

After the last incident, Magnifico didn’t bring anyone into his laboratory and wishroom anymore. The safety of the wishes was too important.

The king leans against his desk, tiredly rubbing over his face. The last few minutes had cost him not only a few of his nerves. The recent applicant, which he’d sent to get some tea, had flooded him with questions about nearly every item in his study. And how was Magnifico to explain magic items he’s kept for over a decade to a boy who knew nothing about it? Or some of his thickest books he’d spent months studying?

The doors to the study open and the young man comes back with a little tray and the highly anticipated tea. A relieved smile spreads on Magnifico’s lips. Oh, how he needed this strong herbal tea now. Nice and hot.

The boy puts the tray down and hands the cup to the king, who eagerly takes it.

“Thank you!” Magnifico replies before taking a sip. Instead of a pleased sigh however, his eyes widen and he spits the liquid back into the cup just as quickly as it had entered his mouth. “This is cold!”

The boy fumbles his fingers nervously, “Really? B-but it was hot when I took it from the kitchen!”

“Are you saying Dahlia gave me cold tea? She’s never once, in the past six years, served me cold tea!”

“Uh … who’s Dahlia?” The boy frowns.

“What?” Magnifico's brows draw together in confusion, “I told you to go and get me tea. And that tea comes from the kitchen and Dahlia Lee is my royal baker! She’s responsible for making my tea, so if she didn’t give you the tea, who did?”

“I did?” The boy scratches his neck, “I thought I was supposed to make the tea myself.”

Now the whole situation makes sense to Magnifico and he sighs, putting the cup back onto the tray. No wonder this tea was ice cold. But, he could throw this little mistake over his shoulder. After all, he knew he was specific with his tea, and it had taken a little bit of trial and error for Dahlia as well to get behind how the king loved his drinks and food.

“I’m sorry the tea wasn’t to your liking, your majesty.” The boy says and Magnifico snickers.

“Oh, don’t worry. Just bring me a new one. And please,” He hands the boy the tray, “go and ask Dahlia to make it. Herbal blend number three. She’ll know.”

The boy nods and hurries to the doors.

“And if you’re at it, let her give you some lemon tarts. The ones with whipped cream!”

“Yes, sir!” The boy disappears.

Inhaling deeply, Magnifico makes one of the books from his shelf float to him. He opens it and starts reading mindlessly. Once in a while, he twirls his index finger and the feather pen starts writing some notes simultaneously.

After a while, the doors open again and Magnifico turns his attention from the book to the applicant, who carries the tray with cake and tea across the room.

“Finally!” With a graceful movement of his hand, the book floats back into the shelf.

The boy gasps in wonder and surprise. One second of his attention moved from watching his steps was enough to make him stumble over his own feet and trip. The tray flies out of his hands and tea and cake land right on the king's chest, rather than on the desk next to him.

Magnifico flinches, and the boy's face falls in horror.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m really ... I didn’t-”

“Yes … obviously!” Magnifico does his best to swipe off some of the cake from his clothes.

Too clumsy. He couldn’t allow someone like that to become his assistant. The job was too important and if someone became careless the moment he saw magic, he had the potential to be a danger.

“May I help you …” The young man takes a few steps closer but Magnifico lifts his hand.

“No. You may leave!”

“But-”

“I do have another applicant waiting.” Magnifico walks to the doors and opens them.

Amaya, who already stands ready at the railing cringes at the soaked, cake smeared chest of the king.

“Bring Asha to my study and tell her to wait a little. I’m ready in a few minutes.”

“Yes, mi rey.” Amaya sighs and beckons the young man to follow her. “Alright, come on. All is well! Don’t worry about it! It happens to the best of us”

Amaya gives one last look over her shoulder as she nears the kitchen and finds the young man has stumbled.

“Ay … are you alright?”

The boy whimpers but rises to his feet again.

Shaking her head, she straightens her shoulders and enters the kitchen, where she is greeted by a cloud of flour. Amused, she watches how the group of teenagers that had, by now, gathered in Dahlia's space, hurry in a line to bow.

“Asha, the king is ready for you.”

“Now? Am I late?”

“You’re fine!” Amaya says calmingly. “The last interview-”

“It was a disaster!” The last applicant wails as he hurries past the kitchen. Apparently he’d managed to get down the stairs without falling another time.

“Finished early ...”

"You see now? And Noah O'Nail has always been melodramatic." *takes a sip of tea* "What? Yes, of course I know all the names!" ....

"Honestly, the saddest thing about his failed interview was that Dahlia's wonderful tea and cake was wasted ... she puts so much effort in everything she makes and it's truly a shame that I didn't get to eat the lemon tarts." ....

"You never had them before? Oh, that should change! You're not allergic to lemons, are you? Or milk? Anyway .... I hope this answered you questions." *leans back*

#king magnifico #anon answered #ask to magnifico

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theostrophywife · 1 year

Note

Smutty request bc your writing is *chefs kiss*

Imagine working out w/ Azriel and you guys are doing your own routines, but he can't keep his eyes off you. You catch him looking a couple times, but you just kinda smile and look away. Then one thing leads to another... you know where I'm going w/ this LOL

distracted.

author's note: i am fully on board with this. warning: smut under the cut.

Twenty one.

Twenty two.

Twenty three.

Twenty—fuck. How many pushups was that again?

Azriel couldn’t seem to concentrate on his workout. Not when you were standing a few feet away with a dagger in hand, your tanned skin glistening with sweat and your dark braid cascading down your back as you scrunch your brows in concentration.

It was his idea to get up at the ass crack of dawn to train and though you pouted when your mate dragged you out of bed and grumbled all throughout the short flight up to the House of Wind, it was Azriel who came to regret the decision. He should’ve listened to your suggestion of staying in bed with a very different workout in mind, but he’d insisted on training first and playing later.

What a stupid, idiotic male he was.

Now all he could think about was the curve of your ass as you lunged forward, the bead of sweat pooling between the valley of your breasts, the flush blooming high upon your cheeks that appeared torturously identical to how you looked whilst pinned underneath him.

Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have you writhing underneath him and screaming his name.

“Something wrong, babe?” You ask with a slight smile, cocking your head at your mate. Azriel shakes his head, flustered. His shadows peer over his wings and float towards you while you shoot the shadowsinger a knowing look. “You seem distracted.”

Cold whisps of his power snake through your limbs and it was in that moment that he felt jealous of his own shadows. “Maybe I was just enjoying the view.”

Triumph thrums proudly in Azriel’s chest as you blush in response. The cheeky grin on his devastatingly handsome face made you want to jump the shadowsinger's bones. “You seem chipper for someone who had to be bribed with coffee just to leave the house.”

You shrug, raising a neatly groomed brow. “Perhaps I just needed a little physical exertion to get things going.” The satisfied smirk tugging at your lips told Azriel that you were perfectly aware of how distracted he’d been while watching you exercise. “All that stretching really loosened me up.”

Azriel stalks towards you, his steps careful and deliberate with the precision of a predator tracking its prey. You hold your breath as he sidles up to you, towering a good foot over you and enveloping you in the shadow of his wings.

“Oh yeah?” Your mate teases, snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. “I think I might need help warming up. The workout I had in mind requires a partner.”

And that’s exactly how you ended up pressed up against the dark stone walls of the training pit with your leathers bunched up on the red sand while Azriel drives his cock deep inside you. Your mate just couldn’t help himself. You made him so needy. He had to have you right here, right now.

“Gods, you’re so fucking pretty.” Azriel breathes in amazement.

You giggle as he rests his head on the crook of your neck, nipping at the sensitive flesh as he leaves love bites and hickeys for everyone to see.

“I’m all sweaty and sticky.”

Your mate sucks harshly on your collarbone and smiles against your skin. “So?”

“So, I’m gross.”

Azriel rolls his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot in a way that makes your body sing as stars erupt behind your lids. “You’re beautiful, bunny. You’re always beautiful.”

The little moans and whines falling from your lips were barely concealed by the wall of shadows wreathed around you. You supposed that you should care more that any of your friends could walk in on you and catch the two of you in this compromising position, but Azriel was the only thing you could focus on.

His scarred hands cupping your ass to keep you upright, his wicked mouth latching around your nipple, his eyes—golden and full of lust burning holes into your skin while he continued fucking you.

Azriel’s low and husky laugh sends a shiver down your spine as he looks up at you. “Quiet, bunny. You wouldn’t want the rest of the House to hear how desperate I make you.”

You whimper, biting down on your lip to contain the sound. Your mate only chuckles, fingers leaving imprints on your hips as he guides you to sink further down his length. “There’s a good girl. Keep riding me just like that. Don’t you want to cum, pretty girl?”

Through the fog of lust clouding your thoughts, you barely managed to muster a nod. “Yes, daddy.”

Azriel sucks gently on your earlobe, smiling at how of much of a mess you were for him. “Come on then, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good.”

#brain goes brrr #really though my brain is broken after all this writing #azriel #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel smut #acotar smut #acomaf #acosf

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autumnslance · 8 months

Text

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 18: Fish Out of Water

G’raha took a deep breath before stepping through the door leading from the corridor into the common room of the Rising Stones.

An elderly elf—no, elezen—sat at the nearest table, steaming mug of tea at hand, speaking with a younger elezen woman. The latter G’raha recognized as one of the healers who had helped tend to him and the other Scions; Alianne, her name was. The old man must be the grandfather she had mentioned.

“Finally up and about?” the old man said warmly.

“Yes, thanks to the Scions’ cadre of healers,” G’raha replied, bowing slightly to Alianne.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what she had said her grandfather’s name was.

“Just be sure not to push yourself too quickly, Archon,” Alianne said.

He took a moment, then smiled sheepishly, rubbing his neck and nodding. “Of course!” The marks had been covered for so long, and no one had known that title in the First; he’d nearly forgotten what it was like to be addressed as such.

A clatter of activity came from the front door, a quintet making their way in; two gald—roegadyn men, an elezen man, two Hyuran women. The redhead was grousing at the blonde, who rolled her eyes, before focusing in on G’raha.

“Well! Our new arrival’s up and about!”

Her companions looked his way as well, and he felt very on the spot. The redhead—Clemence, one of the healers—smiled. “Krile said you were well enough now.”

“Welcome!” the roegadyn in mage’s robes said, beaming. “Always nice to meet a new comrade.”

Comrade. Was he? G’raha smiled politely as Clemence made introductions (he would have to ask her about Alianne’s grandfather, discreetly, later), and pondered that implication.

Did the others actually want him to stay? Now that all in the First was complete and they were home, would the sins he had committed as the Crystal Exarch cause conflict?

And there were the memories of his younger self, of his comrades in the remaining Students of Baldesion, the Sons of St Coinach, of NOAH, which in turn led him to recall the Garlond Ironworks. Memories that conflicted with his elder self, and the difficulty of remembering the original Biggs’ face, versus that of his descendant in that other timeline.

After a round of introductions, where he managed to avoid saying much of himself, he took a seat at the bar, where a miqo’te woman stepped up and smiled. “Feeling overwhelmed?”

“Just a bit,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, I am G’raha Tia.”

She smiled. “F’lhaminn Qesh,” she replied.

Minfilia’s adoptive mother! The fabled Songstress of Ul’dah herself. Once again, the historian in him thrilled, reminded that he walked among those who in a later time would be considered legends.

And he was simply…G’raha Tia.

“You’ve had a long recovery, and will need yet more time. Think you can handle a traditional Ul’dahn lunch?” F’lhaminn asked warmly.

G’raha nodded, uncertain how to feel at being waited on by a woman who in so many stories was held in the sort of reverence granted to the parents of sainted figures such as the Oracle of Light.

Except Minfilia was not the Oracle in this world; she was the Antecedent, if no less important for her work in founding the Scions.

“There you are,” a blessedly familiar voice said.

G’raha turned and smiled gratefully as Krile joined him. “And how are you feeling?” she asked.

“Better, and hopefully a meal will only improve things.”

“Good; you’re looking a little pale yet.” She tilted her head, watching him. “Or is that the general feeling of being overwhelmed?”

She always had been too perceptive; knowing now that she possessed the Echo, and how sensitive hers was, that made far more sense. “A bit of both, I think,” he answered honestly. “A part of me still feels as though I walk among legends, especially now that I am…myself, again.”

Not that he ever truly would be; the consequences of merging his timelines into one self was going to be an ongoing process, he suspected.

Krile smiled. “Says the former Crystal Exarch,” she teased. “From all I hear, you have accomplished your own share of extraordinary feats, old friend.”

When not stumbling through the process every step of the way. What he wouldn’t give for Y’shtola’s calm confidence, or Thancred’s steadfast bravery, or Urianger’s clever dedications. And then of course, there was their champion…

To Krile, he merely shrugged and smiled sheepishly again. “I did what I could,” G’raha said. “But that time is past, and now I must find my way in this new future.”

“You will,” she said warmly, reaching over to pat his hand. “And we’ll be here to help, every step of the way.”

“Truly?” he couldn’t help but ask quietly.

“Of course!” she replied, beaming. It was familiar and comforting, reminding him of youthful times and old dreams shared in too late conversations.

Perhaps some things had not changed. Perhaps he had an anchor after all, to help him navigate this new, uncharted course his continuing life had taken.

F’lhaminn set down meals for them both, delighting Krile, the two women falling into easy conversation.

G’raha picked up his fork, content to listen, and settle in.

#final fantasy xiv #shadowbringers #ffxivwrite2023 #lyn writing #G'raha Tia #Krile Baldesion #F'lhaminn Qesh #Clemence Cockburne #Alianne Vellgrance #Isildaure Vellgrance

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shai-manahan · 1 year

Note

hello!!! how are you? :) i was wondering if maybe you could teach me how to make diverse characters? like fr i try so hard to make characters from diverse background but always end up with the same old american or british character when there are so many nationalities to be covered!! if i could learn even a fraction of your greatness i'd be grateful to you for life 😗👉👈

p.s. the last time i attempted to make a nepali character i was almost stoned to death so im terrified of creating new characters incase i offend someone accidentally... ehe

It’s not really something I can teach. I can only offer my opinions, and I am certain that other writers of color will not feel the same way in some regards, so please understand that while I made a long post about this, you shouldn’t use this as the only guide you’ll use for writing. This is not a list of everything you need to know. I can see you’re being genuine about it, but there’s a whole lot of extensive research you’ll have to do based on what you’ve said in this ask.

First of all, I think it would be a better idea for you to take a moment and assess why your readers hated the way your Nepali character has been portrayed. Because I’m going to be honest with you; even minority authors are terrified of writing characters that have a similar heritage with them -- perhaps on an even larger extent compared to when white authors write characters of color -- and that fear never really goes away. We also make mistakes. We sometimes make writing decisions that are seen as bad by the people belonging to our communities. But we do try to learn from them, and that’s what matters the most.

So your first step should be to look back, trace your logic, figure out what went wrong and what you can do to prevent it from happening again, and only when that happens can you attempt to write characters that come from varying origins.

I know it’s easier to avoid all that effort and make it so that every character in your story comes from one or two backgrounds only, but using that reason, wherein an author refuses to write characters of color because they can’t be bothered to research other people’s experiences... it’s honestly a lazy decision that will make your readers of color to feel excluded.

But of course, writing a harmful representation of minorities is just as bad, if not worse. I am by no means an expert, but I do have some general tips you can perhaps start with.

1. Research

I know this is already a given, but I cannot tell you how many writers tend to skip this stage. Make sure that your sources are reliable, preferably written or made by people who come from that culture themself, and gather every single bit of information you can while keeping in mind that not everything you see in a single google search would be accurate. Look at the associated stereotypes, study their culture, read memoirs, articles, studies, etc., and start building a backstory for your characters.

2. Get sensitivity readers

This is very important. If you know people who would be willing to give their feedback for free, then good for you. But take note that whether or not you paid for their services, there is a possibility that there could be some bias existing, so please, if you can, get multiple sensitivity readers. One person’s opinion should not be your sole source of information. People who belong to minorities are not a monolith, after all.

Also! Please, please never accuse anyone of racefaking. There is no excuse to this. Just because a person doesn’t agree with you, no one has the right to accuse anyone of that. I have seen some authors do this... and it’s highly disturbing. (and no, it doesn’t matter if you’re getting the rudest anons on your blog. it’s blatantly racist)

Just keep an open mind about everything you might hear, because some of them will be uncomfortable to your ears and might even seem harsh through your perspective. It won’t even be surprising if some of your testers simply walk away after an argument or two, as it can seriously be tiring to have to explain to an author what they have done wrong -- much more if the author never took an effort to listen -- but like with everything else, you can learn from your mistakes.

3. Writing characters of color should not be a mere part of a checklist

Look, this needs to be said. A mere mention of your character’s nationality is never enough for a representation. I’m including this because I am seeing countless stories where the supposedly ethnically diverse characters aren’t really... diverse. Regardless of their viewpoints towards their heritage, people’s ethnicities do affect the way they live in some ways (as well as their gender, education, sexuality, religion, and social status) and some authors seem to forget that.

I hate seeing writing advice being phrased like -- “it doesn’t matter where they’re from! just write them as you would any other character!” -- because while there are some points to consider there, people coming from vastly different cultures would be shaped by those cultures no matter what, albeit in different ways.

As such, even things like answering asks on your blog and describing their favorite things aren’t enough to say that you're properly representing them. If you as an author can't manage to include how the character's identity affects them within the narrative of the game, then what is it all for?

Be careful about distancing your character from their culture too much as well. Unless you have another character with the same heritage that balances that out, this is almost like you’re erasing the identity they had to live with. You are not being diverse by doing this; you are simply stripping away the very thing that has molded your character’s life; and it is such a huge disrespect to the people who have been wanting so long to finally see their identities be represented properly for once. You’re refusing to do the work that should have come with using that background. You are stealing it.

If you want to show that you respect the ethnicities from which your characters come, then make efforts to represent who they really are, not just the portions of their habits that you find interesting enough to parade around.

And I will be brutally honest here. If you can replace a minority character's ethnicity in your head while reading the story and everything remains the same, then I have to say the author has failed. Of course, this will only be assessed when the story’s over, because character developments happen. But they do have to happen.

4. Keep reading works made by people from those backgrounds (and support them if you can)

I don’t think I need to elaborate too much on that. Most of the time, it’s a great way to see the relevant issues the writer themself faces daily within their community, and reading their works might provide you some understanding. And yes, my work does reflect mine to some extent.

Some more points to consider:

Avoid tokenizing your characters.

Don’t expect praise for the diversity you’ll be including, no matter how detailed they will be.

There are simply some cultures you absolutely cannot touch -- those wherein research and even getting help from others would not be enough. When that happens, back off respectfully. I have an Agta background (some call it Aeta) and I am seriously scared of seeing our heritage in a white author’s work, because there’s too many misconceptions even in actual published books to the point that it’s improbable to represent it well unless you have someone who directly comes from that ethnicity.

Research more into cultural appropriation and fetishization, then learn how to avoid them.

Consider your character’s interactions with those who are not part of the minority. There are huge stereotypes here that might be difficult for some to avoid.

If you have to, you can use tropes and stereotypes for the sole purpose of deconstructing them. But I do not advise you to do this unless you have a good grasp of the implications behind them. I use this with some of the ROs in Hollowed Minds, and I can attest that you have to be very careful.

Be mindful of the privilege and prejudices you have as you write.

There is no one perfect way of representing minorities, and characters should also be portrayed as individuals.

Things you might want to avoid when writing BIPOC unless you are one:

Racism

Slavery/Human trafficking

Colonization

Excessive violence towards that particular group

Segregation systems

Tragedy exploitation in general

I hope this helps a little. I can share some insights as to how I prepared creating my characters in Hollowed Minds, especially with Alonzo and Jade, but you would have to ask more specific questions. I’ve spent a lot of time on figuring out their identities, and there’s so much I want to share that I can’t include here (the post is long enough).

For some parting words, let me just say this. Be prepared to do a lot of revisions. There will be inaccuracies in your writing, and there will be mistakes. No one expects you as an author to be 100% accurate on your first attempt, but do your part, learn to accept valid criticism, and your readers will be a lot more forgiving. After all, while you have the right to include what you want to write, it would be wise to remember some of these have responsibilities attached. Good luck on your writing!

#I might add more on this tomorrow or some other time #I just. want to publish this post now because it's been on my mind for several days now #writing

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒻 𝒶𝓃𝒾𝓂𝒶𝓁, 𝒽𝒶𝓁𝒻 𝓂𝒶𝓃 ⎹ 𝓢.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ jojo’s bizarre adventure / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ santana x servant!reader ( f! ) [ 2k years ago ]

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ this is a dark fic. dub con, slight somnophilia, reader’s brain broke, fuckdoll fantasy, sexual slavery, choking, creampie ( there’s a lot of cum, i’m not sorry ), master kink, blood mention ( not reader’s ), name calling ( whore, slave ), threats against reader

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.6k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

thunk, grunt. thunk, grunt. thunk, grunt.

even before you could force your eyes open, when the world around you was still dark and uncertain, you could hear, and feel, your master’s brutal thrusts. an exhaustive moan slips from your parted lips as you start to come around. you realized that you’d slipped out of consciousness sometime between his second orgasm and now, but Santana hadn’t bothered to stop. he didn’t seem to care whether he could hear your pathetic, little whimpers anymore or not, as long as he was satisfying his own urges.

you had no idea how long you’d been asleep; body draped carelessly over the gilded slab. the side of your face had been smushed against it, and you could smell the faint, leftover blood. the slab was a familiar place— all of the Pillar Men used this very altar. for sacrificing, eating, and fucking those who’d been offerings to them. you’d found yourself in this same spot on more than one occasion, and with more than just Santana, but he was always the most ruthless. the most insatiable.

his rutting was utterly mind-numbing. a powerful, deep force driving himself hilt deep into you, the massive hands that gripped your waist and jerked you back to meet the thrust. no matter how many times he’s taken you before, your walls still spasmed around his size, convulsing in a fervent yet futile attempt to handle him. it still felt like he was splitting you open each time he bottomed out at your limit. you mewl again, eyelids fluttering. the sensation of his multiple releases finding no more room to fill you and, instead, squelching, frosting every inch that slides in and out of your sensitive canal, and dribbling down both of your legs.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, whore,” he huffed, broad shoulders bunching as he leans over you. you whine upon feeling the weight of his chiseled, massive form against your back, pinning you flat to the slab, “not that it matters, I suppose, your little cunt is just as tight when you’re unconscious. The only difference is that you’re as quiet as can be,” his grin was more like a grimace, “your master filled you twice more while you were sleeping. Be grateful, and I just might deliver a third.”

your toes brush against the side of the altar, unable to reach the floor, and you bleat in acquiescence, jaw slack against the stone. your belly felt too full, and he overflowed out of you each time his hips snapped, rough, to meet yours. “T—thank you, master…” you croak, “thank you…master… thank you…” those were the only words you could manage, and pretty soon, you were yipping in tandem with his heavy balls slapping against your clit; it felt battered from this alone.

Santana snarls, both hands clamping down on your fragile shoulders, locking you in as flush to his base as he could to drill deep. this new velocity brings about a new, acute pressure in your lower belly, and your eyes cross against the rush of the merciless rutting, your body tossed to and fro as if you were simply an extension of his hands, pleasuring himself using your smaller, exhausted frame. “This… this is why you’re my favorite,” he hissed through bared teeth, “as soon as you’re impaled on my cock, you absolutely lose yourself.” his chuckle is wicked and deep, rumbling in a pit in his throat, “I can do whatever I like to your flimsy, mortal body and you’re much too braindead to do anything at all to stop me.”

you should’ve hated that he was right; he’d broken you down and left nothing behind except a breathing sleeve to wrap around his cock, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hate it. you couldn’t try to convince yourself that the pain and pleasure of being fucked senseless by a being so much larger and stronger than yourself didn’t lace together, creating a symphony of stupefying passion.

you could focus on nothing else but just how hard and deep he pounded you, as if he’d bred the very thoughts right out of your head. your eyes roll around behind their lids, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. you can’t move a single muscle, nor lift a single digit, to stop this maddening, relentless fucking. you’ve no choice but to sag, helpless and limp, against the stone and take all that he wanted to give.

over and over again.

as if to emphasize the point he’d made, Santana hooks a mighty arm around your throat, locking it in place with his opposite hand gripping his own wrist, and rears back to stand up, and pull your battered figure with him. your arms must’ve weighed a thousand pounds each, at least that’s how it felt, because it took all of your strength to reach up and hold on to his forearm. your own hands couldn’t even begin to wrap around the bulging muscles, so you dug your nails in and simply tried to hang on. “I should choke the life out of your little body just because I can,” he grunted in your ear, bucking his hips more ferociously, as if the thought was getting him closer and closer to the edge. the pressure the crook of his elbow created squeezes your windpipe until you’re choking, eyes watering, but you’re suspended above the ground. your legs dangle against his, but your feet can’t find a sturdy plane of muscle to rest against, and you slump back against his gargantuan chest whilst he bounces you up and down to the rhythm of his herculean hips. “You’re too fuck drunk to do anything but take my cock, wrap around and milk me, but the harder I squeeze…” he pauses, panting, and clamps down harder against your throat. you gag, desperately trying to suck in oxygen even as he cuts your supply down to a fraction, before sealing it off all together, “the tighter your cunt gets…” you can feel his snorting and huffing in your hair, like a beast driven to the brink with the need to cum again.

“M—mas—ter—!” wheezing, you try to force your neck to crane, and your eyes to open and focus on his face, but he remained a blurry mass as he decimates you, constricting you.

“Take me, slave,” he growls, his thrusts reaching their limits; if he were to rut any harder, he might just break through your belly— which both looked and felt swollen by his many loads. “Take me until your body gives out. Take me until you’re broken, just like you were made to!” and you were nearly there.

unable to breathe, with your extremities like dead weight, you whimpered and gargled until a familiar darkness began to nip the edges of your vision, and you started to feel warm all over.

Santana howled with his head thrown towards the ceiling, pushing you down as far as you would go, and you felt another deposit in your guts. puling hoarsely, your back arched weakly, and you felt a nearly sickening amount of his seed gushing out, coating his twitching cock, and dripping on to the floor. but, he didn’t ease his grip on your throat. your head lolled, helplessly, and you lost the strength in your arms— they fell limp against your sides.

“Santana.”

it was Kars’ stern baritone that you recognized, but your vision was tripled and dazed, you couldn’t tell where he was.

“Loosen your grip before you kill her.”

Santana does, chest heaving, he shoves you off of him and on to the hard altar. you collapse against the slab, sucking in breath after burning breath, your whole body shaking. you felt so empty, as if the beast had hollowed you out completely. you blink several times, face dragging along the slab, and see that Kars was standing beside it. you were eye level with his hand as thick fingers drummed against it. “Tha—thank you, master.” you repeat, this time to Santana’s superior, peering up at him with heavily lidded, watering eyes.

Kars gazes down his own, bare torso at you, and elicited a scoff at your display of pathetic submission, his hand reaching for you, petting your damp hair back at the roots. “You’re much too useful. Too eager and tight a cock sheath to be thrown away so easily.” a wicked smile teases his lips, piercing crimson eyes cut sharp down at you, “Don’t fret, little whore, you’ve plenty more years of service left in that fragile body of yours and we’re going to fuck it all out of you.”

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siriuslovebot · 10 months

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˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒄˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛!

i’m aubrey. i’m 22 years old and from the us. slytherin. infp. cancer sun, scorpio moon, scorpio rising. i’ve been writing for many years but finally decided to make a dedicated hp blog. my main is opcnarms, where i will follow/interact from as this is a sideblog. you can find me on wattpad as blushdraco.

as far as my personal interests go i’m obviously a huge harry potter dork. i also love music, particularly classic rock such as fleetwood mac, the beatles, queen, the rolling stones, led zeppelin, etc. i’m also a big fan of harry styles, greta van fleet, the lumineers, bon iver, and more! other shows/movies i like include: outerbanks, criminal minds, american horror story, twilight. as far as books go, there are way too many to mention but i am an avid reader and i have a lot of faves. i’m very active, work full time in health care, and try to travel and spend time outdoors as much as possible. updates may be slow but i’ll be writing for fun so i’ll post as often as i can.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜/𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜!

requests are currently: 𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵 ˖ ࣪⭑

any smut fics i write are strictly minors dni. all fics containing adult content will have warnings applied. the characters i write in smut fics are all adults (18+) even if not explicitly stated.

i will accept requests, so long as they are marked open on my page. i’m okay with writing pretty much anything; i pretty much draw the line at anything pertaining to human excrement (scat/urine/vomit,etc). i’m okay with dubcon, more hesitant with noncon depending on situation, but it never hurts to ask! any adult content will be marked as such, and content warnings will be applied so please refer to those if you may be sensitive to certain things.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛!

marauders era: sirius black, remus lupin, james potter, severus snape, regulus black.

golden era: weasley twins, cedric diggory, ron weasley, harry potter, hermione granger, draco malfoy, luna lovegood, neville longbottom.

i take requests for fluff, angst, and smut fics. all writing is automatically female reader unless stated otherwise. lowercase is intended.

˖ ࣪⭑ italics indicate preferred characters.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛/𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌!

i will eventually have a masterlist and tag system figured out at some point. all personal posts will be tagged #aubs.txt and all of my writing will be tagged #slb.works. for now, i hope you can be patient and give me some grace while i figure things out. i hope to have a wonderful time writing for all of you lovely people!

#about me #aubs.txt #golden era #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #regulus black #james potter #severus snape #hermione granger #draco malfoy #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #luna lovegood #neville longbottom #cedric diggory #marauders era #marauders fanfiction

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wishingicouldfly · 2 years

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F*cking Running from the bullets

On the 8/22/22 Rolling Stone Article featuring Harry Styles

Prefacing my rant here. I’m a middle-aged cishet mother of one from the US. I have young people in my life who don’t identify as straight, but I am. My opinions are my own, and I do not know everything. In fact, I often know nothing. Just ask my child. Kidding. Anyway, a lot of people are smarter than me and have had life-experiences I will never have, but this is my corner of the internet to rant and rave.

Here’s my Gen-X opinion as a Harry Styles stan and as someone who believes with my whole chest that he is closeted and in a long-term monogamous relationship with Louis Tomlinson.

Buckle up...this gets long, so it's under a cut.

I don’t think most of the general public cares one way or the other about Harry’s sexuality. Not really. There are some very homophobic outliers, but for the most part I think most people in my generation who know music, know that some of our biggest rock idols were gay or bi. And we knew before they came out, based on a host of things including lyrics, coded clothing, innuendos, and common sense. Sound familiar? And it didn’t matter to us because we loved the music.

So most of the GP doesn’t care about H’s sexuality. They like the music. It’s fun. They don’t care enough to look into it. They don’t know about OW or they don’t care about Harry’s personal life to care if they do know about her. Anyone I’ve ever spent more than 30 seconds talking to about H believes he isn’t straight if they don’t know about OW. Most people I’ve talked to about Harry have shrugged about his sexuality. They don’t care who he’s dating.

That said, the Rolling Stone article published this weekend sets up a dangerous source. RS is a respected magazine in the music industry, I’ve used it myself as a source in published works. Rolling Stone is HUGE. There was even a song by Dr. Hook in the 70s called “Cover of the Rolling Stone” because it was and has been a high point in a music career to be showcased on the cover.

youtube

Because they are huge and respected, we expect RS to be unbiased. Accurate. Sourced appropriately. Quoted appropriately. To represent artists’ words accurately. Unfortunately in this case, they weren’t. They didn’t. The writer used a lot of personal opinions and leaps of judgment to tilt the article a certain way. Many other publications have taken the RS article and have used it to report on Harry, his view on his own sexuality, and his so-called push back on toxic fandom; other publications who didn’t ask the questions are taking his answers further and further out of context.

How Harry Styles Became the World’s Most Wanted Man – Rolling Stone

I’ll be honest, my first indication we were in the wrong place was when the interviewer casually mentioned that Watermelon Sugar was about c*nnilingus—that made me double take. Because, well, absolutely not. But I guess Harry did say that at one point, so I’ll let it slide, even though in my opinion it wasn’t appropriate for the sort of serious article this purported to be.

There are some good parts of the article—when H talks about My Policeman and says “It’s about love and about wasted time to me” and when he says the director (Michael Grandage) “wanted to show that [gay sex] is tender and loving and sensitive.” Those quotes speak to me about Harry’s true self/real feelings–and support things Michael has said about Harry being prepared for the role in MP. He said Harry knew “every single beat of it at that meeting. I found that incredibly impressive. He knew other people’s lines; he knew all of his lines. He knew why he wanted to talk about it, why one scene worked this way and another worked.”

Harry Styles’ My Policeman Set for TIFF World Premiere | IndieWire

If you read between the lines of the Rolling Stone article, Harry worked very hard NOT to admit to anything untrue about his relationships. You can almost feel the awkwardness of the way he phrases things. He never wants to lie outright, but he can’t tell the truth (if you believe he’s closeted, which I do). He’s trying to keep from outing himself while presenting as someone in a relationship with a woman. He worked hard to be ambiguous about his personal life. And those efforts are thwarted in one fell swoop when the interviewer contests Harry’s own words in the next paragraph.

Understandably the fandom is up in arms. With the bent of the article, on the surface it feels like he’s admitted to a relationship we are sure is PR, and at the same time is queerbaiting/Larry baiting with all the coded messages, cryptic doors/tweets for HsH marketing, and lyrical hints at his relationship with Louis his songs. He’s walking a fine line (excuse the pun) between a PR narrative and the truth he’d rather not reveal. People of all walks of life from check-marked celebrities on Twitter to legitimate news outlets have been debating the point.

It’s been a firestorm.

On one hand, I think Harry can handle the negative press. He knows about the media more than most. He knows the stories about Michael Jackson, Princess Diana, George Michael, Freddie Mercury. He knows what the press can do and what they can whip up and how devastating the result can be–none of those stories have happy endings.

It doesn’t make it okay, but I think he knows how to compartmentalize. It’s why he’s not on SM at all anymore. And God knows he’s been here before, and while that never makes bullying and misinformation okay, I believe he has the knowledge of history and a support system in place to balance the media storm/fan outrage with doing the job he loves and fulfilling the commitments he has. He was, in fact, the twice named villain of the year in 2013 and 2014 for (Harry Styles Named 'Villain Of The Year,' One Direction 'Worst Band' At NME Awards | HuffPost Entertainment) for NME. Which, just gross. Can you imagine? He wasn’t even 20 years old. He’s had his share of Twitter hate, and I think he’s off SM for the most part to avoid it.

On the other hand, I think it sets a dangerous precedent for publications like RS to spin a misleading narrative. Not to look at the possibility that he’s asking you to read between the lines is harmful to others in the LGBTQ+ community. He’s telling that he’s on a journey about his sexuality (actually, I’m convinced he’s no longer questioning, but that he knows who he is). I know it’s been happening for decades, centuries probably. But it still angers me that a writer can spin a few words around and make the meaning very different from the intent. Or even outright contradict the words of the subject.

For example, this quote:

Harry in RS: “Sometimes people say, ‘You’ve only publicly been with women,’ and I don’t think I’ve publicly been with anyone. If someone takes a picture of you with someone, it doesn’t mean you’re choosing to have a public relationship or something.”

That’s very similar to this interview from 60 Minutes Australia in 2013: “I have a lot of friends, some of them are girls, and apparently I’m dating all of them.”

youtube

Same message, nine years later, but the author of RS article decides that he’s dating Olivia Wilde BECAUSE he’s been pictured with her. EVEN though he basically just said he wasn’t. Literally, in the very next paragraph the author states the opposite of what he said.

For whatever reason, he’s not comfortable sharing his private life. He stresses that he keeps his private life private and that what the public sees is all work. His relationship with OW is textbook PR fauxmance. It only takes a couple of peeks to see behind that curtain–and he confirms that by saying that every couples walk in front of a camera is work.

I firmly believe that this will be yesterday’s news by the end of the week. People forget. Someone sees a headline and all they’ll remember is that there was controversy about Harry’s sexuality. And they’ll either care or they won’t. They will either see the movie or they won’t. I don’t think there will be long term damage-he’ll be able to make a choice about what he wants to do–I just hope he doesn’t feel pressured either way. I hope it’s his own decision.

The damage will be that some will feel betrayed because if he's not closeted, then he IS queer baiting and Larry baiting--it DOES matter to so many who aren't seen, who can't be seen and to so many who support both Harry and Louis.

I don’t know Harry Styles. I think he’s lovely. Talented. Brave in the way he wears clothes. Honest in the way he bares his soul in his lyrics and the way so much of his music can be interpreted by the listener. He seems kind. He tells people at shows to be kind to each other. He often supports gay fans in coming out. He wants people to be themselves, whoever that is–he says it all the time, and it feels genuine. People at his shows are proud of who they are--there's a lot of body positivity, pride for whatever community people identify with--it's lovely.

I don’t have a conclusion for this rant. I’ll leave it open ended and maybe add to it. It must be hard to be someone in the spotlight who wants to perform, but who also wants to keep some parts of their life for themselves. F*cking running from the bullets indeed.

Actually no. Here’s my conclusion. My open message to Harry Styles.

Harry–

I’m not your mom. I am your mom’s age, and I actually think we’d be friends. But I am someone’s mom, and this is what I’d say to her.

First, have you eaten lunch? Had some water? Taken your meds and your vitamins? Ok, then.

Breathe. You cannot control the bullies. They are mean, and they are wrong. It feels like they are ganging up on you, and they are. But remember this. You are beautiful. You are loved. You are smart and talented. You have friends and family (and fans) who love you and know the truth. This will pass. It’s okay to step back. It’s okay to take a break or a breath. Ask for help or hugs when you need them but tell people when you’d rather they don’t touch you or when you need to be alone. You don’t have to be perfect. Just be yourself. You bring light to so many people. Let the people who love you bring you some light.

Love, Someone Else’s Mom.

#Harry Styles #Rolling Stone #August 2022 #closeting #coming out #louis tomlinson #Letter from Mom #Youtube

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dolphin1812 · 1 year

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I’m particularly interested in this passage from today’s chapter:

“She [Fantine] has become marble in becoming mire. Whoever touches her feels cold. She passes; she endures you; she ignores you; she is the severe and dishonored figure. Life and the social order have said their last word for her. All has happened to her that will happen to her. She has felt everything, borne everything, experienced everything, suffered everything, lost everything, mourned everything. She is resigned, with that resignation which resembles indifference, as death resembles sleep. She no longer avoids anything. Let all the clouds fall upon her, and all the ocean sweep over her! What matters it to her? She is a sponge that is soaked.”

For all that “marble” is used to describe Fantine’s coldness/hardened exterior, it’s actually considered a fairly sensitive stone (mainly to acids). While it seems very sturdy, then, the “clouds falling upon” it and “the ocean sweep[ing] over” it would eventually cause harm, just as Fantine herself is not actually immune to all of her suffering. She’s just too worn down to show it. Her “resignation” is even paralleled with death through the structure of the sentence: “that resignation which resembles indifference, as death resembles sleep.”

Marble as a material is also associated with ancient Greek works, particularly in sculpture and in architecture. In this sense, it works well with Fantine’s prior tie to classical imagery. Whereas before she seemed to be an ancient divinity, now she is a monument, a remnant of the past. Of course, these monuments were (and are) highly valued. The sheer number of classical references in Hugo’s writing highlights his own connection to 19th-century Europe’s fascination with ancient Greece. However, these monuments were also considered “ruins,” suggesting that the use of “marble” links Fantine to some form of destruction and/or decay as well. Society is what made this happen to her rather than time, but she has similarly been eroded away.

This also isn’t the first time marble has been used to describe a character. While most references to marble so far have been literal marble (the tablet in the bishop’s original residence, for instance), marble has been used more metaphorically for two other characters: the Conventionist and Javert. In the case of the Conventionist, marble was used to describe the immobility of his lower body: “[he] resembled the king in the Oriental legend, flesh above and marble below.” In this case, the comparison is indirect and is strictly about his appearance, so it’s not the best link to Fantine, who is like “marble” character-wise. Javert, on the other hand, is “a marble-hearted spy.” The stone is used to convey his coldness, strictness, and harshness, just like it’s used to illustrate Fantine’s reduced sensitivity. In some ways, they are made “marble” by similar forces, as Javert has also “hardened his heart” because of his experiences as a social outcast. Still, their “marble” natures are opposed (Javert is on the side of the law and Fantine is very vulnerable to that now that she’s on the outskirts of society), so it’s interesting that this connection between them exists.

Spoilers below:

The allusion to marble mainly makes me think of Enjolras, especially since there are already so many similarities in how he and Fantine as described. In his case, though, I think marble mostly links him visually to either a “hero of classical antiquity” or more recent works in that style, while also conveying his supposedly cold attitude. If Fantine is marble in the moment of her ruin, then Enjolras is the reappropriation of that marble image as an idealized symbol of the future.

#les mis letters #lm 1.5.11 #fantine #the conventionist #javert #hugo's love of classical references #this chapter was so sad that I didn't want to write too much about what happens #even though it's super short #some of Hugo's language was once again uncomfortable #but I mostly just feel bad for Fantine :(

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owmylasagna-blog · 1 year

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7, 8, 9, 18, 23, 24! It's a lot but I think you're awesome so I'd love to know your thoughts when you have time! And thanks for sending me some as well! 😁

Aaah thanks!!! I’m looking forward to seeing your answers too :)

Also, for anyone this is not clear to, this is for Edd/Eddy and also as adults 👍

7. What do they like most about one another?

Edd likes that Eddy is passionate, funny, imaginative, intrepid, genuine, sensitive, and has strong conviction. He is impressed by his uncanny coordination and talents for dancing, cooking, athletics, and recall of film and music trivia. He is very physically attracted to Eddy, his broad shoulders, his fat and athletic build, little features on his face like laugh lines or the wrinkles on his forehead from furrowing his brows so much.

Eddy likes that Edd is intelligent, clever, creative, strong-headed, sarcastic, intuitive, curious, and ambitious. He thinks Edd is really amazing and will blab to other people about how impressive his partner is. Eddy also finds Edd to be sexy in a slinky, sultry, sort of weird looking way. He likes how his face completely changes from stone cold to almost unsettlingly cartoonish when he smiles.

8. What do they like least about one another?

Edd struggles with Eddy’s selfishness at times, partly because he never cultivated selfishness in himself growing up. It upsets him but he’s also sort of envious.

Eddy can get frustrated with Edd’s pragmatism putting up barriers, or when Edd avoids confrontation in favor of reaching a clean resolution.

9. What is the most common cause of conflict between them?

They are both very opinionated and strong-minded, so they bicker a lot. It doesn’t always lead to conflict but their stubbornness will sometimes drag on disagreement rather than finding consensus. I think they can be prone to bottling things up from time to time and this can boil over into blow outs here and there.

18.) How do they complement one another?

Thinking about this aspect of their relationship I think is the most exciting part of Edd/Eddy. A pretty common interpretation of the dynamic is that they provide a bit of balance and inspiration to each other: Edd gives Eddy genuine confidence in his own intelligence and ability to succeed, Eddy gives Edd the push to enjoy life and to indulge a little. They are one another’s biggest supporters. I also see them helping the other to break out of unhealthy habits while at the same time witnessing, accepting, and understanding what motivates the other. Their relationship is founded on a life-long friendship so they have a really intimate knowledge of the others’ ticks.

23.) Where do they live? What is their home like?

I imagine as young adults they live in a city and bounce between one shitty, poorly managed apartment to the next. Despite each place having something infuriating, they always leave with a new skill, a funny story, and at least one fond memory despite the situation. Ideally they settle on a place that’s a two bedroom/two bath with a decent kitchen and within walking distance to shopping, food, a park, etc. maybe one day they get a house because I love that image Raven drew of Eddy stealing flowers from the garden lol

I think Edd doesn’t have too many opinions on home decor, so long as things are kept neat and clean, and will defer to Eddy’s taste in furniture and interior design. He actually quite likes Eddy’s eye for second-hand and vintage. He does push back sometimes when the items are both too impractical and exorbitantly priced (like a giant martini glass lamp, or one of those chairs that looks like a giant heel). Eddy also has a mammoth wardrobe that is taking over the closet, and Edd begs him to go through and whittle it down like every other month.

24.) Do they have pets?

Edd keeps various tank animals and insects as pets over the years that Eddy has no interest in and no sense of ownership over. My latest headcanon is that a little lucky black cat chooses Eddy and his maternal instincts suddenly kick in. Otherwise I don’t think he would actively seek out a pet. Neither start out as cat people but she grows on them. I bet Edd would read up a lot on cat behavior and care and would get really invested in proper enrichment, nutrition, and feeding regimens. Eddy would spoil her rotten which pisses Edd off.

#eene #ed edd n eddy #eddeddy #yap yap dribble dribble

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perfectlyripeclementine · 1 year

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"i want it to not be heavy for you to say no" "none of this is a loss or a compromise" i have been staring at this with tears in my eyes and absolutely aching. not sure i know how to imagine the pleasure that follows that kind of safety and tenderness, but i'm also really glad to read it and know people will be held in hands that believe this. responding eagerly to your touch because it adjusts and stays and cherishes instead of pushing or withdrawing. xo

Oh, sweet anon, this ask makes me so happy and sad at the same time. Thank you for your kind words about being happy for people who experience that kind of care. I promise you based on the reactions I got to that post alone I know there are many people that also feel the same as I do and I promise you can find someone like that too.

At the risk of giving some unsolicited advice, here are things I have thought about / have helped me getting to where I am with this type of communication. These are my own experiences; take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. And I want to lead with the thought that sex should always be about pleasure, even when it is also about pain, and a good partner will be curious about your pleasure. But they may be clumsy or unsure how to ask, and that is something you can work on together.

I think some of the pressure that stone folks often feel to perform certain things they aren’t completely comfortable with comes from a lot of folks (even queer folks!) not knowing what other options there are for pleasure outside of the obvious sex acts (oral, fingering, touching, etc.) Everyone has such a nuanced and complicated relationship to their own body and eroticism. Only you are the expert at what makes you feel good and a partner who cares about you and your pleasure will be eager and curious to give that to you. (I’m not stone, mind you, nor do I mean to project that label onto you if it’s not comfortable. Take what’s for you.)

I am grateful for my partners when they tell me they’re not comfortable with something, especially if it is something that we have done together before. It tells me they are in their body and checking in with themself, and that they trust me to respect their boundaries. It is especially helpful when they offer something else that I can do instead.

That can look like like: I’d rather not take my underwear off right now, can you touch me over them more? Or: I don’t like having my (body part) touched, but it feels really good when you touch (other body part) instead. You can also say these things before sex, or even after sex, if you find you went along with an act that didn’t work for you. It’s never too early or too late to help someone be safe for you. Or you can tell someone how you like them to check in with you, if it’s something you feel comfortable communicating non-verbally, or if there are certain physical motions you do that mean “back off” or “slower” or “softer.”

The other day, I did something with my partner that they had enjoyed with me in the past but I know is sensitive for them. It was the first time i did it without asking them for permission in words. I started very softly, looking up to them for their reaction, and it made me feel so cherished and safe and trusted when they automatically put their hand in my hair to guide me.

Sex should always be about pleasure and a good partner will want that for you as much as they want it for themself. Your boundaries should be not only respected but cherished. It’s cool and fun to be creative about the things that give us pleasure and to exit the hands-mouth-genitals pathway. I promise you that there are people who will hold these things preciously with you, and I hope you find them soon. ❤️

#i know you weren’t really asking for advice #but this ask had me thinking thoughts #i hope they had something worthwhile for you #and if they didn’t that’s also okay 💜#i don’t know if you need to hear this but you’re not wrong for not enjoying certain things #and it’s not a burden to not want them #and there are many people who will want you #not in spite of your boundaries #but because they cherish your pleasure and your boundaries are a part of it #this post is about queer sex #genderless #nblnb #ask roo

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sweetthepotato · 5 months

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The Final Pillar: Chapter 16: Proposition for a Fight

Disclaimer

Masterpost

Chapter 15

Chapter Summary

A question leads to more questions, which leads to fractures and distrust among the pillars.

Contents

Foreshadowing.

Trigger warning for those of you sensitive to mental health struggles, disassociation, etc. There are hints of Kagome's trauma being brought up in this, but it's not too specific. Again, I want to make it very clear that if you're going through something, please reach out to professional services. You're not alone.

Sanemi is also a bit of an arse in this. I apologise profusely for any fans who are expecting Soft!Nemi. Not gonna happen in this chapter, I'm afraid.

He also swears in this one. But, like... you were expecting that, right?

The rest of the meeting seemed to continue without much of a hitch, the other hashira recounting their missions from the past few weeks. Kagome struggled to remember all of the details by the time they’d finished their briefings, but she understood that many of their tasks involved similar levels of research and reconnaissance. However, many appeared to run for extended periods of time without much of a satisfactory resolution; the Snake Hashira, in particular, appeared to struggle at that end to solve a recent string of child disappearances around the edges of Tokyo. In comparison, she found herself relatively lucky in that regard, in the sense that she was surrounded by a mostly cooperative team of other demon slayers.

Ultimately, the purpose for most of the pillars’ missions was to find more information on Muzan and the nature of demons. The current dearth of information was, understandably, more than discouraging. It seemed to baffle their rank even more that a mere rookie was the first to come in face-to-face contact with the demon in centuries.

At that, Kocho raised her hand, her gaze filled with intention the moment her eyes landed on the Nightmare Breathing user. ‘Oyakata-sama, I suspect that, if we are lacking in well-needed information, looking into Kagome-san’s biology might help us understand the physiology of demons. Assuming that we have her consent, I would be more than happy to run a physical exam.’

The moment the other pillars glanced in her direction, their stares almost burning a hole through her. The girl’s body stiffened.

‘Kagome, my child, the Corps have asked a lot of you already,’ Ubuyashiki spoke, ‘I realise this may be something beyond the pale of what we would ask of anyone, and so there’s no rush at the moment to make up your mind.’

‘Is there any reason why the Nightmare Hashira would hesitate?’ Iguro asked.

She tried to think of a response for herself, but her thoughts dried up in finding an answer that would satisfy anyone.

Shinazugawa sneered at her, taking sadistic joy in the reeling of her brain, ‘Is there so much of a problem with having your blood drawn?’

The Snake Breathing user meant his question with almost complete neutrality. But his comrade, he knew, didn’t hesitate to point out things other people were thinking. The fact that Kagome’s physical response was to pale considerably was telling. Surely, she would be expecting these requests as a hybrid, wouldn’t she?

The Stone Hashira shifted. ‘Oyataka-sama, I am willing to guess,’ he started, his eyes starting to leak, ‘That there is a reason why Kagome would be the first half-demon we’ve met during our time as pillars…’

Hm, he thought, curious.

Rengoku put an arm over Kagome’s trembling form, her face turned towards the ground as she seemed to resist the urge to curl into herself and disappear.

Oyakata-sama nodded at the oldest hashira, ‘This is why I’m not forcing Kagome to commit herself more than she already is…’ he sighed, looking upon the girl, who looked more like a mouse than a slayer, with a kind of pity, ‘Anyone born with the misfortune of having a demon’s blood has had to lead a most difficult life, indeed.’

When the pillars exited the meeting, Kagome felt numb, the flashbacks of months and weeks past flicking through her mind. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she felt the pain of years past rake over her skin again. Her right shoulder and left side began to ache in particular, as if they were the fresh wounds they once were.

In her disassociation, she could only see the way Rengoku’s eyes mellowed in concern for her.

The cogs in the man’s mind were churning. The Flame Hashira wondered if the previous conversation had something to do with the ‘old trauma’ she mentioned during their travels together. He wasn’t one to pry, but there had to be something to explain her far away, hurt expression..

Behind them, Shinazugawa rushed forward, his arm pulling the young Nightmare Hashira into his grasp, who was already too dazed to resist initially.

‘C’mon, demon spawn, I don’t see how a few drops of blood would hurt you,’ he goaded, his hand already palming for the hilt of his blade, ‘Surely our Akumabashira wouldn’t be scared of a little, tiny bit of pain?’

The Wind Hashira’s grip was strong, but luckily, his rough treatment jolted Kagome out of her stupor. She wriggled in resistance, at first, but she realised that he was far stronger than most of the humans she had to fight against as a child. Drawing on some of her demon blood to boost her muscle strength, she twisted herself free from his intimidation.

The rest of the pillars spectated, Obanai noticed, with Kanroji staring at the altercation with a horrified gasp, half-covered by the top of her hand.

‘Shinazugawa, best not to fight on Oyakata-sama’s grounds,’ he reminded his friend, gently.

He scowled but acquiesced to common sense.

‘Alright,’ he said. However, he glowered at the girl who returned as stern an expression as she can manage, ‘I won’t be letting this go, though.’

Kagome felt colder than she normally would in his time of winter, so, rather than face the concerned gazes of her colleagues, she’d wanted to be left alone. As the hashira were instructed to disperse to their own desires until the banquet for the new year, she decided to sit by a small lake.

The sky cleared of its clouds, and the air felt tranquil. It was as good a time as ever to pick up another book, if only to cool off her growing angst.

While she thought about scanning her eyes over Rengoku’s other birthday gift, the older text on Illusion Breathing, she had a hunch that she should be reading a different nonfiction text instead. This time, she opted for an old issue of the Physics and Chemistry Industrial Arts Journal, which she found browsing a second-hand bookstore in Kyoto. In the first few hours of peace and quiet, she was able to digest at least two articles on mechanical design, though she thought she might have to read into more of the scientific jargon later.

She was about to read her third, until the brunette felt Shinazugawa’s presence buzzing underneath her skin. He was storming up the hill, his katana at the ready. She thought for a few moments about what Shizu would do, and with all of the kindness and love she gave to his memory, ultimately thought it best to not follow through.

She breathed slowly, inhaling through the nose, then exhaling through her mouth.

‘Senpai, if you would leave me alone, I’d appreciate that,’ she decided on saying coolly.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ he barked, snarling. He charged at her, managing to cut Kagome’s journal into two, jagged halves.

She barely managed to dodge the next swipe at her legs, jumping up from her position and leaning to the side as the white-haired man tried for a strike in a downward motion.

‘Don’t you get it? I’m sick of this “Shinazugawa-senpai” bullshit!’ The Wind Hashira aimed another onslaught of attacks, including two roundhouse kicks that almost managed to land.

‘I meant the term as a way to respect your position of seniority,’ the girl stated blandly, ‘I was, luckily, taught to refer to others in that manner where it applies.’

‘I! Don’t! Need! Your! Fucking! Respect!’ He yelled, somersaulting through the air, trying to attack her from above. At her evasion, he growled at her, a wolf’s angry snarl forming along his teeth, ‘Draw your blade, I want to fight!’

The girl narrowed her eyes at Shinazugawa, refusing to humour the man. She continued to move away from more of his attacks, moving an inch or so backwards once a stab was aimed at her left shoulder.

‘How would you prefer me to refer to you by?’ She asked, rolling out of the way of one of his kicks.

Shinazugawa didn’t deign to respond. He swung his nichirin, hard, which, through the surrounding air of the strike, managed to knock the bandanna out of her hair.

Now that her fringe started to obscure her vision, the man in front of her stepped forwards menacingly.

‘Tch, I would’ve hit you had you not dodged,’ he grumbled.

She blinked at him, and saw that his eyes slightly narrowed, ‘Senpai, I would rather not be hit with a nichirin blade,’ she stated plainly.

‘And why is that, huh? Any true demon slayer wouldn’t baulk at the thought of getting injured.’

‘For one,’ she pointed out, ‘I don’t like the thought of vomiting up like the last meeting, and two…’ she dodged a stabbing motion to the face, ‘…I guess you don’t really care about the second thing.’

Kagome flipped out of the way of a flurry of Shinazugawa’s swipes. He tried again to swing from above, but the girl crouched down low and rolled out of the way of another stabbing motion. The Wind Hashira’s eyes were manic and didn’t show any intention of backing off, which irritated her to no end. Deciding that despite the impromptu dodging practice, she’d much rather spend her time reading, she withdrew a blade from under her haori. Her hand held the hilt of a much short, very much ordinary tanto.

‘Are you seriously gonna fight me with that?’ He scoffed, unimpressed with the ordinary grey, battered state of the tanto’s blade.

‘Not exactly,’ she replied, moving towards the right and then hiding her presence as close to nothing as possible. With the best speed she was able to muster, she managed to reappear behind her senpai’s neck.

‘Nightmare Breathing, fourteenth form…’ she began, swinging the hilt in an upwards motion, and then thumping it against the back of his neck, ‘The End.’

To that end, Sanemi Shinazugawa slumped to the ground.

Tengen heard shouting not too far off in the distance. Recognising Shinazugawa’s gruff voice, his suspicions considering the recent meeting hackled as he remembered that their newest member had decided to take off by herself. As Rengoku already seemed to go soft for the girl, he thought he ought to be a good friend and do him a favour.

Staring out into the clearing, he found Kagome in the middle of a confrontation. The Wind Hashira, predictably, was the only one providing the onslaught of attacks and screaming, meanwhile, the Nightmare Breathing user had yet to draw any weapon to defend herself with. Hiding up in a nearby tree, he stopped his first instinct to intervene, and decided to watch instead from his bird’s eye view.

He observed the girl was able to dodge most of the Wind Breather’s attacks with a decent level of proficiency. In his view, Tengen’s only constructive criticism was that her face, now fully visible without the scarf, slightly twitched in anticipation of his moves. That, and the fact that her shoulder and left side of her torso seemed to shift at a wider angle than normal. Despite having her bandanna swiped down to her neck, the hair at the front of her scalp set free in the breeze, she was using her presence hiding technique to great effect. She came across as unassuming to the untrained eye as possible, and therefore, her opponent didn’t seem to strike as harshly as he would during their previous sparring sessions.

The more he watched, the more the man’s senses tingled. However, what made his eyebrow quirk upwards was when the girl completely erased her presence, and then ambushed her opponent with an obviously fake Breathing technique. Although she went against the grain of his expectations, suddenly withdrawing a considerably un-flashy tanto, he recognised something eerily familiar in the way the girl moved. Perhaps, it wasn’t in the way of the style or the substance in the way she fought, but in the air of her mannerisms.

Although Tengen saw, at least somewhat, the hashira Rengoku described from his travels, he found that he didn’t exactly agree with all of his friend’s assertions. Kagome seemed less like the newest addition to their group but moved almost shrewdly in the face of a fight. It was as if she, even at her young age, was an even bigger cynic than Iguro himself.

#demon slayer fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #kny fanfic #demon slayer oc #kimetsu no yaiba oc #kny oc #sanemi shinazugawa #obanai iguro #tengen uzui

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