#I hope this is enough of a starter anon I have more for later though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feroluce · 8 months

Note

Hello!! I came here because I was informed you had some Wriowinne headcanons and ramblings to share? Would it be alright for me to ask for some 👉👈 (or as much as you want to share please I'm desperate for food)

OH BOY DO I.

I feel you anon, I've been shipping them like...since the PV. So I've been stuck in utter absolute hell, getting nothing but father&daughter content from the fandom (shoutout to @hydrachea for being able to dual wield and letting me talk ship to her, light of my life fr weh). I'm hoping now that 4.1 has been out for a little bit, we'll get some more of them, though. I've dug through our dms, and found a hc that takes place after 4.1. So spoilers for that archon quest, but no leaks are involved!

Anyway, I love thinking about how close they cut it at the climax of 4.1, and the aftermath of it all.

Sigewinne somehow finding out what happened down there at the bottom of Meropide while she was evacuating the inmates, and like. She knows what the stakes were. The Primordial Seawater could not be allowed to rise. Clorinde made the right decision in shooting the gate lock. Even if it had killed Wriothesley, it still would have been the right decision.

That doesn't mean it's not a bitter pill to swallow.

Sigewinne can usually put it out of mind during the day, especially when she's busy treating patients, but it's harder when she's asleep. She dreams of the evacuation, and the alarm blaring, and waiting and waiting and waiting, and Clorinde walking past, alone, with her head down and her fists shaking, until Neuvilette finally approaches. Wriothesley isn't with him.

And Neuvilette's face doesn't really show much. It never does. But Sigewinne is close enough to the surface that she can hear the absolute downpour raging outside as Neuvilette tells her that he's sorry, he's so so sorry, and he gives her a gray and black and red coat, so soaked through with Primordial Seawater that he'd been afraid to let anyone else touch it, and the fur collar is matted and wet against Sigewinne's face when she clutches it close-

Sigewinne jolts awake, grasping at whatever is in her reach, which just happens to include Wriothesley's arm. His eyes almost immediately fly open, slurring out a mix of what's goin' on and what's wrong, and then a do we need to evacuate and poor Sigewinne, she feels awful. He hasn't been sleeping as well since the almost-flood, every little sound wakes him up now.

(There are nights where she'll wake up alone, and if she goes looking, she'll find Wriothesley, still in his sleep clothes and looking exhausted, down under their secret passage and staring at Neuvilette's seal over the sluice gate. Like he's keeping watch over it, or just daring it to try and do something.

Whenever she finds him like this, Sigewinne tells him to come on, come back to bed, and he'll keep his eye on it until the last possible second, but generally Wriothesley comes when called, and he'll let her lead him away. On his worse nights, he'll tell her to go back without him, he can't sleep anyway, he's going to stay down here for just a little while longer. He'll be back later. And she does occasionally go back to bed, but most of the time she stays, because she doesn't like the idea of him alone down there. Sigewinne will tuck herself into his side, or she'll get him to relax his guard just enough to lay with his head in her lap, and they'll stay there like that until Wriothesley finally decides he can bear to leave it alone and go back to bed with her.)

So with all that in mind, when she accidentally wakes him up, Sigewinne quickly gets her breathing back under control and pets his hair until he relaxes again. She tells him it's fine, everything is ok. Meropide is safe. Their home and everyone in it is safe. Go back to sleep. He needs his rest if he's going to go up to the overworld for supplies in the morning. She'll go sleep in the infirmary, she just had a nightmare, is all (the truth), it was nothing, she barely even remembers it anymore (a lie).

Sigewinne doesn't even make it out of bed, though, because when she tries to go, she finds her wrist suddenly caught. She turns back and Wriothesley is squinting up at her face, human night vision isn't nearly as good as a Mélusine's. They sit there like that for a moment, until she can see through the expression on his face that he's come to some sort of decision. Wriothesley pulls her back in and Sigewinne lets him, lets him rearrange them into something more comfortable. It's easy to give up when it's him, she didn't truly want to leave anyway. By the time he makes a satisfied little huff into her hair, Sigewinne is tucked under his chin, her face against his chest, one arm wrapped around her to keep her there. She pats his side and tells him ok, ok, she gets it. She won't go anywhere.

Wriothesley buries his face in her hair and sighs at that, something deeper and more content that hilariously reminds Sigewinne of a dog asleep on the floor. "Good." Wriothesley sounds like he's already half-asleep again. His arm still tightens around her waist though, just to make a point. "How could I sleep, when I know you're off somewhere crying alone?"

Sigewinne touches her cheek, and sure enough, it's wet? She has tear tracks. No wonder Wriothesley had been staring at her so hard. She hadn't even realized. And she opens her mouth to protest because she wasn't crying, some tears in her sleep doesn't count, but. Wriothesley is already asleep again, breathing slow and deep and even, and his arm is heavy and warm around her, and his sleep shirt is soft and comfortable against her face, not at all like the fur-collared coat in her dreams.

Sigewinne gives in again, curls into all that warmth and wraps herself up in it, until it lulls her back to sleep.

#sigewrio #wriosig #wriowinne #genshin impact wriothesley #genshin impact sigewinne #THEM.....#augh my heart #I love them so much rolling around kicking making girly noises on my bed #I love thinking about Rosie being protective of Meropide #he put so much work into this place #into these people #I have bigger longer thoughts for that which will maybe go into their own post later #but after his release because I wrote them in a dm one (1) whole day before reading project amber and oh my god #the leaks made it SO much funnier JFKLJASKLDFJ #just realized I called him Rosie in a tag so just for the record that's my nickname I usually use for Wriothesley #it will probably happen again #but anyway yes post-4.1 hurt/comfort #they're so so sweet and they go through it a little bit but they have each other for it <3 #I hope this is enough of a starter anon I have more for later though #thank you so much it made me really happy to get this ask <3 #genshin impact #genshin impact 4.1 #wriothesley #sigewinne #ask #answer #anon

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giamee · 2 months

Text

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🎐 )

even though you don't talk, they'll still find a way to listen

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | mute reader, jus some fluff really, bit on the short side

requested by @/anon

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ ok i should nawtttt have used this colour scheme im squinting like a rat at my screen tryna see what i'm saying. the title is 'cigarettes out the window' (shoutout tv girl) if u couldnt read it which i do not hold against u

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

it's simply in his nature to look out for others, to ensure that everyone is alright. and when he meets you, he's thrown for a loop a little. because you are fine.

the first time he sees you is in serval's workshop- you're just leaving, and something compels him to make sure that he speaks to you, even if it's for a few fleeting moments before you leave and he most likely never sees you again.

it's a simple question of how your day is, but you simply offer him a small smile before ducking past him, scurrying out of the door that he held open.

he's puzzled at first- maybe it's something to do with him? did you not want to talk to him? but then his sister explains that you're mute, and now he feels like a fool.

and thus begins his attempts to talk to you.

he writes you little notes to begin with. luckily for him, you're a regular at serval's shop, always seemingly having some device or another broken and in need of repairing. serval rolls her eyes at the pair of you- at gepard for being an idiot (you can still hear, you don't need notes), and at you for your attempts to run into her brother as often as possible (those machines weren't really broken).

despite this, it was somewhat amusing to watch the pair of you attempt to flirt with each other. and somewhat cute when your attempts worked.

you kept each and every one of gepard's notes to you, as redundant as they were. his handwriting was a little scruffy, and if you looked at them hard enough you could spot the little tremors where he tried to make the lettering neat.

a special treat was when he decided to add little doodles to them. it was anyone's guess as to what they were supposed to be- you were pretty sure that one of them was supposed to be you- and your heart warmed amidst the chicken scratch and stick figures.

you decide to write your own note back to him. in the top right corner is a little sketch of him, on a similar level to his own creations, that you hope he'll appreciate alongside the note.

you give it to him along with your best smile, mentally capturing the look of joy on gepard's fave at your little gift to him. you were gone by then, shyness overtaking your urge to stay, so you could only imagined his face when he realised that what you had written to him was a formal request to take him out on a date.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 DAN HENG.

for dan heng to open up to someone new, several criteria have to be met.

for starters, he had to be at least a little bit comfortable around you. receptive, but not too probing or overbearing. rational, but not judgmental. open, but not too much.

in many ways, he was like a cat. you had to let him come to you.

and luckily for you, you seemed to fulfil those criteria.

as one of the newest additions to the astral express, you were in some sort of in-between phase of being one of them and a stranger. you communicated in your own ways, but you found yourself withdrawing to your room. it was overwhelming, this new environment.

it was only natural that you felt more drawn to dan heng more than anyone else. he had similar qualities to you- more introverted, tended to keep to himself. and, as you later found out, you both had a tendency to burn the midnight oil.

it became almost routine to run into him when you're both up late, wandering the astral express for some peace of mind. brief encounters with little nods sent your direction gradually evolved into longer moments spent basking in each other's presence, mostly in silence. but not always.

you both had your reasons to be up late- on the nights where dan heng looked more frazzled, a certain look in his eye, is when you began to piece him together.

he'd lend you some information of his own volition occasionally, telling you about the nightmare he had, recurring or not. there was just this certain quality to you, a look in your eye that made him feel like you truly did listen to him.

and he wouldn't trade your late-night rendevous for the world.

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

#୨୧ gia.txt :: gepard #୨୧ gia.txt :: dan heng #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #honkai star rail fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr gepard x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #gepard fluff #gepard landau fluff #hsr gepard fluff #hsr dan heng x reader #dan heng fluff #dan heng x reader #dan heng x reader fluff

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soft-edging-kittens · 2 years

Text

I broke my "fast"....

I'd only been denied for a week and had been thinking of trying longer, but as I was laying there, on my side, thighs squeezing my hand against me, a few things happened.

Starter:

One of my Kittens reached out, after seeing a horny post, with the question:

Do you need anything to help you Miss?

They ask me this occasionally and I know I can request lewds or nudes whenever I want, so I took pity and let them, although I made it clear I was only going to use them to edge to.

I got a cute video, of them holding their semi-hard dick, stroking in gentle circular motions.

God I love watching that. Imagining being stood behind them and what it would feel like in my hand. Or kneeling in front, telling them they can't cum.

I was already starting to feel a little domme and so asked when they'd last cum, thinking I could instruct them.

It turned out to be minutrs earlier, to one of my stories. I asked which to find out it was a submission, so instead I made them send an anon to the submitter, telling her theu'd cum to that post.

I gave them one of my audio links as reward for doing so.

Main course:

I reached out to @sh0rtsh1tsw0rld to ask if she liked the Anon, and we got talking about some of the other responses I've had to that post and how she should send another.

How revealing may I be in a submission?

That depends if you want me to post it, or just enjoy it in private.

For my blog I'm careful not to post anything that might get flagged. Some of my more exhibitionist followers will also send me the ruder versions as inspiration.

Sat in my inbox is a gif of her from behind, dry humping in some sort of red body suit. In my messages though, a similar video but naked, butt wiggling and rocking back and forth, just enough hidden my bedding.

I was tempted to break there and then, and told her as much, except... I'd kind if offered the orgasm to someone already, in exchange for something. I explained the situation, but said I'd use them later anyway.

Use me all you want. It honestly makes me want to send you more, in hopes that you can't hold off until receiving her video Mhmm. Kinda curious how far you'd push it.

By now I was on my back, legs spread, micro-edging because I was so sensitive.

Another gif, from behind again, except this time full view of her holding a toy between her legs, and I'm watching her fuck it and without warning...

I cum

fuck it was so intense, my whole body shaking and juddering, fingers working me through, I feel myself go light headed and my phone falls out my hand, and I collapse.

It takes a moment before I grab the phone to say I came. It took a good five minutes to stop aching and be able to start to move properly. I think I was wobbly on my legs for another five after that.

I still can't believe how intense it was. As much as I like having the domme mojo back, I might have to do the denial thing again from time to time.

#me #mine #personal #cumfession

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wandaromanova · 3 years

Text

Little Sister

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: one cuss word, minor BW spoilers

A/N: hello! i’d like to note that this takes place sometime before the events in the Black Widow movie! if you haven’t seen the movie yet, please skip over this story and come back later if you’d like! happy reading <3

anon requested: hiii i have a fluff request after seeing bw haha: could you do nat x fem reader where they're laying in bed snuggling, and r asks her about her family and nat tells her and r notices how cute she looks when she's talking about yelena and it's so soft and ahhhh

Summary: Natasha tells her girlfriend about a piece of her past that she never talks about; her sister.

Word Count: 2K

| masterlist | request rules/guidelines | wips |

please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work. reblogs, likes, and comments are always welcome. <3

Natasha Romanoff has lived a lot of lives. She has been through more than most.

Nat had been taken as an infant by an organization that trained little girls to become lethal assassins.

She was psychologically conditioned to become a killer, having taken more lives than she could count.

Eventually, Natasha had managed to break free from the cage she was forced into and was recruited as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent; it was a new start for her, an opportunity to compensate for the red in her ledger.

So, Natasha took her job seriously, saving as many people as she could, even more so when she became an Avenger; one of earth’s mightiest heroes.

Natasha found something in the team that she never really had before; a family. She found a home within the dysfunctional team she had been recruited into.

Not only did Natasha find a family within the Avengers; she also found the love of her life.

Natasha hadn’t even considered the possibility of ever finding love.

For starters, the Red Room had instilled the concept that love was nothing but a distraction; a liability.

She had been taught that love was for children and it was nothing but a weakness that needed to be avoided at all costs.

She was quite literally programmed to be emotionally closed off and to always have her guard up. Letting someone into her heart was a risk she didn’t want to take.

When Natasha gained her independence from the organization, she had to do a lot of self-discovering. She had never been able to be her own person, but now that she could, she quickly learned that she didn’t even know herself.

However, it was Natasha’s insecurities that truly turned her off from the entire idea of love.

How could any ever possibly love her? She thought she was a monster for the things she’d done. She has done the unspeakable since ever she was a child.

What if she wasn’t enough? What if her baggage was too much for someone else to carry? She didn’t want to be a burden. She didn’t want to have to protect someone, just to fail them like she had failed so many others.

Natasha was positive that no one would ever be crazy enough to love her.

Little did she know, she would end up finding someone crazy enough to do so; you.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

When the Avengers were formed, you were extremely nervous about it.

All of the files that you’ve read on your new teammates were unbelievable; they were all phenomenal in their own rights. A super-soldier, a god, a genius, a trained-spy.

You were a spy yourself, so you knew exactly who Natasha Romanoff was. She was a S.H.I.E.L.D legend, the best of the best.

You were more nervous about meeting her than anyone else. What if she judged you? What if she didn’t think you were good enough to be an agent, let alone an Avenger?

Not only was she your superior, but she was also your crush. Yeah, you’d never even met the woman before, but you were crushing on her hard.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, but also quite literally a deadly force. Natasha could easily take down anyone she wanted to, and honestly, you wanted to be one of those lucky people.

When you met Natasha for the first time, you were a flustered mess. The redhead found it amusing, how your cheeks turned a bright shade of red and you stumbled over your words as you praised her work.

Natasha never told you this, but she was immediately smitten the moment she laid eyes on you.

There was a kindness and positivity that just radiated off of you and it was extremely contagious.

You were this beaming ball of light that lit up the darkest parts of her soul.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You got to know Natasha extremely well while being on the team. From observing her closely and paying very close attention to her actions, you had managed to pick up on little things.

She didn’t put any creamer or sugar in her sugar; opting for strong, black coffee.

She was kind of a clean freak. If she saw something out of place, she would be quick to put it in the correct place or position.

When she was happy, she would let a small smirk cross her features. When she was annoyed, she would raise her eyebrows.

When she was stressed out or angry, three little creases would appear on her forehead as her eyebrows would knit together tightly; a subtle frown on her face.

Of course, when you began dating the redhead, you didn’t really have to survey her so closely anymore because she’d tell you things herself.

No matter the circumstances, Natasha would always come to you and rant about it. Whether it was about how shitty a mission went or how she beat Clint’s ass during training; you were the only person she wanted to tell.

Natasha had opened up to you, something she never did with anyone. She told you all about her past.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

You had some knowledge of Natasha’s previous life, considering it was in her files, but you didn’t realize just how horrible her childhood truly was.

The Red Room, the heavy weight of guilt that rests on her shoulders, the nightmares that forced her to relive the murders she committed, her time as a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, and becoming an Avenger.

She’d go on and on about her road to redemption or ‘clearing the red out of her ledger.’

Natasha was terrified when she told you about her demons. She figured you were going to leave her the second she finished talking, waiting for you to get up and walk out the door, but you didn’t.

So, you completely caught her off guard when you pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, placing a soft kiss onto her temple, the redhead relaxing in your embrace.

“You’re the strongest person I know. It’s not your fault, you were forced and conditioned to do the things you did.”

Natasha focused on the sound of your voice and took in your words as you softly caressed her red locks with one hand.

“Baby, the amount of respect I have for you is immeasurable. I applaud you for turning your life around for the better. I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Your words had brought tears to Natasha’s eyes, which was a rare occurrence.

She was expecting you to run for the hills, but you chose to pull her closer instead.

In that moment, Natasha knew she never had to be afraid of love again.

You were the most understanding and accepting person she’d ever met.

You would never judge her for her worst mistakes; Natasha had found the one for her and she wasn’t ever going to let go.

•❅──────────────── ‎⧗ ────────────────❅•

Now, a few months later and a year into your relationship with the Russian, you were both lying in bed and cuddling.

You were both watching a movie when a particular scene came on. It was of a family gathering around a Christmas tree, children excitedly opening up presents with gleeful smiles across their faces.

“You know, my sister and I got to take pictures with a Christmas tree once.” Natasha spoke, her eyes fixated on the screen.

You looked up at her in shock. You didn’t know that Natasha had a sister. She told you that she didn’t even so much as know her parent’s names.

Natasha looked down and noticed your confused expression. She reached for the remote on the bedside table and paused the movie before returning her gaze to you.

“There was a mission I was assigned to in Ohio, as a kid. I was assigned to play the daughter of two other Russian spies, Alexei and Melina. It wasn’t just me though, there was a little girl who was assigned as my younger sister. Her name is Yelena.”

Natasha had a reminiscent, happy smile on her face as she recalled the brief period time of her childhood. She looked absolutely adorable as she rambled on about this part of her childhood.

“We took photoshoots of various holidays to make our family look more realistic. My favorite one was Christmas. Even though I knew they were just empty boxes, I wanted to rip open every single one.”

Natasha let out a small giggle at the thought. Even though she had a smile on her face, you could feel and hear the underlying tone of sadness in her voice.

“Yelena and I would spend hours outside, just playing together. Swinging on the swing-sets, looking up at the stars, bending over backward, and getting into a ridiculous competition to see who could hold the position the longest… I always let her win.”

You could see the fondness in her eyes, the longing. It warmed your heart that there was a small glimmer of light in Natasha’s past. There was at least a sliver of hope that she clung tightly onto throughout her time in the Red Room.

“After 3 years, the mission ended. Yelena and I were sent back to the Red Room and were torn apart from one another.

Natasha’s breathing grew heavier as she recalled the unfaithful day. The sight of her sister being taken, and not being able to do anything to help her; still haunted the redhead to this day.

“There were so many men with guns and armor, they literally ripped us away from each other. I was eleven and she was only six.”

Your heart sunk at your girlfriend’s words as her smile dropped. She tore her eyes away from yours as she blinked rapidly, fighting back tears, but failed. You reached your hand up to her cheek and wiped away the fallen droplets.

“I haven’t seen her since. I’d like to think that she found a way out and got a life of her own; a nice, happy life.”

Natasha placed her hand on top of yours before looking down at you once more. You sent her a soft smile when she let out a shaky breath.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I knew that the it was all fake, but it was still the best part of my childhood. It was real to me.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You nodded your head at her words. She took a brief pause, trying to regain her composure, before continuing.

“Even if we have no true relation to one another, and even if I haven’t seen her in years, she is still my little sister.”

Natasha finished off with a big gasp as sobs wracked her body. You sat up from her embrace and pulled her into your arms, just like you had many times before.

You rubbed her back soothingly as she cried into your shoulder, her tears hitting the exposed skin.

“She sounds amazing, baby. I’m really happy that you had some sort of happiness back then and I hope one day you get to see her again.”

You whispered and Natasha pulled away from the hug, still in your arms as her emerald eyes surrounded by a sea of red, a result of her crying.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I doubt she’d even want to see me. I didn’t even try to find her. I’m a horrible sister! I-“

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You immediately pressed your lips against hers, effectively getting the Russian to calm down. You broke the kiss when her breathing slowed.

“Honey, of course, she’d want to see you again. Like you said, you guys are sisters. I’m positive that it was just as real to her as it was to you.”

You reassured your girlfriend, her eyes a pool of worry and guilt. You rubbed your thumb against her waist, the material of your her hoodie beneath your touch.

“From what you’ve told me about the Red Room, it would’ve been impossible to find her. Stop beating yourself up over it. You’re the best, and I’m totally not biased or anything.”

Natasha let out a small chuckle at that and you smiled at her, wiping away the last of her tears. She collapsed into your hold further, shoving her face into the crook of your neck.

“Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you so much.”

Natasha’s words came out muffled as her face pressed further into your skin.

“You never need to thank me for anything. I’ll always be here for you, Natty.”

You hugged her as tight as you possibly could, her cold skin meeting your warmth. Natasha let out a small sigh at the feeling.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wherever you go, I go.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

───────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────────

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow x reader #black widow #request done

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kikyan · 3 years

Note

Have you already done a nezha reborn ask for nezha/li yunxiang? If not could you do one whether it be yandere, nsfw, or some headcannons?

Don’t know why it took me so long but here you go! I was actually planning on writing about him first but then my friend got horny so Ao Bing happened before him, sorry Yunxiang </3

Yandere Li Yunxiang Headcanons

These are my interpretations of his persona and none of these are 100% accurate. I don’t condone any of these actions in real life and all of this is purely fictional and should be taken as such.

I’ve seen the movie like twice so I hope it’s enough, but until then I have this much to offer so hope you like them! Anyway, I see him as overprotective, possessive, manipulative, and controlling (depending on the scene).

Okay so I know it’s not a lot but he’s, in my opinion, a very easy yandere? Like I can kinda think from the top of my head for traits. For starters, in the movie, he not only expresses a hard-headed and very stubborn personality, but he is also very emotional leaning towards anger. We can see that he can joke with Kasha and carry a friendship/conversation, but with his father, we can see that he has very different ideas and can stick to them. If he is angered he can very much act on it or avoid it together. Offered money to forget what Ao Bing did? Yeah, no his idea is an eye for an eye and he isn’t switching. Kasha, his father, brother, is very overprotective of his family and friends.

His S/O is no different. He has one before him finding out he is Nezha? He’d be very overprotective of them and quite possessive. You and he would have a very serious and joking relationship. I see it as it would be like his and Kasha? Kinda like that, just obviously a bit more intimate. Does someone jokingly say something about you? Harmful comment or flirtatious comment? His tone might say joke, but his eyes and actions reveal his anger. Funny enough, while he is very stubborn and I see him as wanting to ensure that EVERYONE knows you’re his, he would never push it. He knows what is okay and what isn’t, while it may be difficult to admit he knows.

An easier and less confusing way to describe the vibe I get is this. Try to be the dominant and always right, if they are proven wrong or do something wrong they will never apologize and either make it up some other way. With him though, I see him owning up to his mistakes just never admitting them out loud because it’s something he doesn’t want to express. The obsessive and possessive I also see as a common trait in wanting to be dominant and right. Regardless, it’s something he has. Now let’s get into more detail if his S/O replaced Kasha’s place and lost their leg? Ao Bing is gonna die (sooner) and literally, everyone will feel his wrath. If the clan has ever hurt his darling or affected them in any way, they will suffer as well. His anger issues also play a big role in this, his anger is primarily his driving force in controlling Nezha, and sooner or later he gets the hang of it without it.

Manipulative and here is why. Have you ever jokingly said something and been like “Oh I guess you just don’t like me?” or something similar but then you encounter someone who HAS done it seriously. That’s him. If you ever argue, he WILL pull that stupid card. Gosh, I know people who do that and it’s so fucking annoying. Also sorry Anon, you asked for headcanons but I’m just slandering this poor man. That’s basically it along with gaslighting. He gives me toxic machismo vibes.

Danger level? 6/10. Despite my slandering, he’s like Bakugo and many other characters with similar personalities. It’s hard to admit how one feels and they can’t. Sure, they get angry at times and it’s hard sometimes but while they don’t mean it they can’t control themselves. Sometimes they will apologize or sometimes they will make it up to you. Deep down, he cares for you and doesn’t want to lose you but it’s hard admitting the truth. Pretty sure I butchered his personality and this is not what you wanted so I am so sorry but yeah, that’s all I got.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere anime #yandere headcanons #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines #yandere fanfiction #yandere nezha #yandere nezha x reader #yandere li yunxiang #nezha reborn #nezha x reader #new gods nezha reborn #li yunxiang #li yunxiang x reader

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ackerfics · 3 years

Text

slow dance with you — mikasa ackerman

— goth!mikasa ackerman x soft!female reader (modern au)

— warnings: slight mention of alcohol, pure rotten fluff

— summary: after gaining some courage from the drinks she had in the party and from the advice she got from her friends, mikasa is ready to become your girlfriend.

— word count: 3.9k

— author’s notes: i would like to thank the anon who gave me some ideas for goth!mikasa, you are so amazing !! thank you for the small headcanons. and since we’re on the topic of writing abt goth!mikasa, i couldn’t help but pair her up with a classic soft girl who likes to wear pink at every time of the day. this dynamic is based on marceline and princess bubblegum so i hope you enjoy !!

p.s. the reader will have dyed hair here, if this is not your cup of tea, just let this fly by your dash.

listen to this while reading.

“She dyed her hair pink,” came a dazed yet mesmerized tone.

“You’re staring at her again.”

Mikasa jumped on her seat at Eren’s nonchalant observation. She whipped her head to her best friend, his attention directed on his laptop, hands flying across the keyboard as he typed out the next few words in his essay. Noticing the incredulous look the black-haired girl was shooting him, Eren rose an eyebrow before rolling his eyes. Mikasa huffed, crossing her eyes with a subtle hue of red on her cheeks, complimenting her dark lipstick. “I am not staring,” she mumbled. “Shut up, Eren.” She looked away from her subject of interest but continued shooting small glances.

Eren sighed, running his hand through his hair. He was always one of the witnesses of his best friend slash sister being meek around her crush. At first, he was teasing her because not going to lie, Mikasa’s crush is a pretty person but as their years in college made them juniors, Eren will be the reckless idiot that he is (courtesy of Armin) and set Mikasa up. But he liked to live his life out first — Mikasa will probably curse him with that spellbook she bought from the antique bookshop they encountered in their little exploration back when they were first-years. “Mikasa, why don’t you take the chance and confess to her? It’s not going to be the end of the world.”

“If she rejects me? What then?”

“Then that’s the next problem that you will have to face.” The brown-haired boy turned back to his essay. He stared at his laptop screen blankly before spewing out curses. “Now, I forgot what to write next! Damn it.” He picked up his iced coffee and drank from the metal straw as his life depended on it.

Mikasa rolled her eyes at her best friend’s first statement. “Gee, thanks for the advice. It was very much appreciated.”

“Glad to be of help.”

There was a thud on their table that made the two look up from their respective activities. Eren had a scowl on his face because for the nth time this day, he was interrupted from finishing his essay (for fuck’s sake, he doesn’t want to fail Ackerman’s class). Mikasa blinked from scrolling through her crush’s Twitter account (the last post she wrote was about how Levi Ackerman, Mikasa’s relative and everyone’s Anthropology professor) and fixed her attention on their blonde friend, Armin. He looked too bright after a round of morning classes, something that Eren doesn’t comprehend. The blue-eyed young man has always been the rational and genius third of their little group. There wasn’t a time where Armin’s advice got a situation to erupt in flames. It was either the situation became an inferno instead (Eren) or nobody had the guts to do it (Mikasa).

“Hey, guys!” Armin greeted, arranging his side of the table, meticulously placing each component of his lunch in front of him. “How were your morning classes?”

“Shit,” Eren spat out.

“Of course, it is.”

“They were alright,” Mikasa shrugged.

“Figured.” Armin glanced at his friend’s sides of the table, nodding at Mikasa’s balanced lunch while blankly staring at Eren’s laptop. The device should’ve been a good tray of lunch. “I thought you were eating lunch, Eren? That’s what you said in your text.”

“Can’t,” the brown-haired boy huffed. He gestured at his iced coffee without taking his eyes off the laptop. “I guess, this counts as my lunch.”

“When’s that essay due?”

“In about,” Eren looked at the time on his laptop, “three hours. Ackerman is my first period later. That fucking terror professor has no mercy when it comes to this. Can he just piss off for once? Mikasa, do you even tell him to get laid? Because I think that would solve his attitude. I swear to God, he’s getting more pissed every damn day.”

“Wow, I guess getting my short, grumpy, middle-aged uncle to start his sex life will be a nice conversation starter,” Mikasa drawled, half-lidded, bored eyes reading every tweet her crush has posted for the entire week. Mikasa couldn’t help but smile at one post about a new movie her crush just watched, saying that it was now a new favorite. She was tempted to give a heart on every single post but that would it weird because they never followed each other despite the small interactions they shared in between classes. With a sigh, she looked up, only to be met with Eren’s unamused stare. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, “What? Do you think that would work, Eren? Levi is probably a virgin his whole life and will continue his record until he’s all shriveled up.” Eren blanched at the image. “Just finish your homework and stop complaining.”

“I’m trying!”

“You’re not trying hard enough, that’s for sure. If you just started that essay the day he assigned it to your class, you would have finished it way before the deadline.”

Eren pointed at Mikasa with narrowed eyes. “Don’t even go there, Mikasa. I have a life aside from being a sleep-deprived college student.”

“I mean, she’s got a point, Eren.” Armin immediately rose his hands in defense when Eren shifted his glare from the black-haired young woman to him. “You always tend to procrastinate in the most impeccable timing that we sometimes have to remind you of your backlogs. And now, here you are, doing things last minute when you could’ve prevented the rush by doing it immediately.”

“Thanks for slapping the reality to my face, you two,” Eren dryly replied, going back to his essay for the final time. “And by the way, Armin, give Mikasa some solid advice that she will finally follow because she’s making googly eyes at Miss Pretty two tables from us a couple of minutes before you arrived. You know, the love of her life?”

Armin roamed his eyes in the lunch hall and sure enough, there was Mikasa’s goddess sitting with her group of friends. There was that brown-haired girl that was dubbed as the Potato Girl for eating mashed potatoes during Ackerman’s class (the professor told the class his rules of no eating or going out of the room while he’s discussing the moment the girl took a spoonful of her snack). A young man with a buzz cut snorting at what the brown-haired girl said. Armin remembered sharing a class with him. He never got the chance to introduce himself because the young man was sleeping throughout the lecture. There was usually a fourth person in the little group but it seems like he was running late or already in his class. That person was Eren’s sworn frenemy, the reason for that relationship was unknown to this day.

The three people at the table all stood up, the brown-haired girl and the taller young man leading the way. Armin instantly had an idea.

“Hey, [Name]!”

Mikasa nearly had whiplash from turning her head to Armin. “Armin?!” she hissed under her breath, face becoming hotter when you looked at their table, a bright smile lighting up your face. You called your friends, telling them to go on ahead without you, to which they nodded before walking towards the trio’s table. Her brain wasn’t processing the moment you lifted a hand to wave at whoever you were smiling at. Mikasa wished it was her. “Fuck,” she whispered, registering how cute you look. You donned a salmon pink plaid sundress and a white cardigan, matching with the bubblegum pink locks you let down. Her heart was hammering a thousand miles per second and there was no hope of stopping it.

“Hi, Armin,” you replied, stopping a few feet from Mikasa, who looked away from you to fix her wide-eyed stare on her empty plate.

“I was just going to ask if you already have a partner in our Molecular Biology lab?” The blue-eyed young man then turned to Mikasa and Eren. “I’m in the same class as her this year.”

“As if calling her here wasn’t that obvious,” Eren murmured, still typing out his essay.

“I don’t need your dry remarks right now, Eren, don’t want to ruin the atmosphere. So, [Name], you have a partner?”

You shook your head. “I think not. It would be great if we could be partners though. I need a break from the people I’ve been partnered with throughout college.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. It was true, though. Most of the grouping during your first years of college were all set up by the teachers so the students really had no say on the matter at hand. Even Armin was exposed to a variety of students, most of them being too slacking to participate or too overbearing with their suggestions that they have no plans of doing. He nodded with a smile, “I’ll be sending an email to Professor Zoe about this and we’re done.” He glanced behind you, noticing that your two friends weren’t there anymore. “I’m sorry for holding you up. I’m pretty sure you have a class after lunch. See you around?”

You waved him off. “It’s fine, I told them to go ahead since Sasha has a class scheduled right after lunch and Connie had to nap in his dorm. And I don’t have any class the whole afternoon, except for an online session so yeah, see you around, Armin.” You acknowledge Eren with a nod, to which he responded with a cool expression (as if his mind wasn’t a mess from the cramming), and gave a soft smile to Mikasa, “Bye, Mikasa.” And you were off to your dorm, leaving behind two amused men and an awestruck Mikasa.

The black-haired young woman was hyperventilating the moment you disappeared from the lunch hall, hands clenched on top of her black shorts. She regretted wearing a thin, long-sleeved striped sweater under her black shirt because it was so fucking hot after that encounter. Her entire body was vibrating with too many emotions all at once, short-circuiting until she became a heap of flustered mess in front of her best friends. “Oh, my God,” she muttered like a prayer. She definitely needed one after seeing you all pretty in pink. It was too much for her soul because you two are a perfect match this time. Her grommet belt and choker were not helping because she couldn’t fucking breathe.

“Mikasa, breathe,” Armin reminded beside her. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Once she regained her composure, Mikasa realized she probably looked like a gaping fish. “Oh, my God! I’m so sure that this time, she thinks I’m weird. My name is the only one she mentioned aside from Armin which is saying something because she’s classmates with him. But why did she say goodbye to me? Oh, my God, she’s giving me so many butterflies right now.”

“Your gay is showing,” Eren pointed out calmly.

“Eren, not the time,” Armin murmured, hovering his hands over Mikasa’s back.

“Just wanted to alleviate the tense atmosphere. No need to get so worked up.”

“But, Mikasa, your feelings for her are showing.”

Eren clapped his hands, pointing a finger at Armin. “That, my friend, is a genius observation.”

Ignoring the green-eyed man, Armin continued, “I think it’s time you confess to her. Three years is a pretty long time pining for a person. In the end, her knowing your feelings will be inevitable. That is if you have no plans in letting her know.”

“Of course, I want her to know,” Mikasa murmured, fiddling with the sleeves of her striped long-sleeves.

“I heard that there’s a party this Saturday in Reiner’s frat,” Eren told them, meeting both of his friends’ eyes over the top of his laptop screen. “We’re in the same football team with Jean. The horseface is a friend of your girl,” he nodded at Mikasa, who erupted in a sputter of her crush not being her girl, “okay, not your girl — yet. As I was saying, [Name] is good friends with Jean and if Jean is there, Miss Pretty in Pink will be, too. That’s your chance to ask her out, Mikasa.” He met the blinking gray eyes of his best friend. “The question is, are you up for that?”

“You were staring at her so hard at lunch again.”

You looked up from your book to acknowledge Sasha entering your dorm room after a whole afternoon of packed lectures. The brown-haired young woman was so tired that she immediately plopped on top of her bed on the other side of the room. At first, you didn’t register what she said because you were preoccupied with your book. You chose to indulge the night in a good book because it has been a long time since you’ve done that. With furrowed eyebrows, you asked, “Can you repeat what you said, Sasha?”

Sasha tilted her head to look at you with one eye uncovered by her duvet. Her hair fluttered after puffing out a breath of disbelief. “Oh, don’t pretend that you have no idea, Miss Pretty in Pink.”

“That’s because I didn’t catch what you said,” you replied, gesturing at your novel. “And what’s with that Miss Pretty in Pink nickname? Did some of the students around campus started that?”

“Sort of,” Sasha hummed. She sat up from her bed and took out her phone from her backpack lying on the floor. You watched the whole time she stretched her arm without changing her position on her bed. With her phone in hand, she opened her Twitter account. “Actually, a friend of mine tweeted it, wait, I’m just going to scroll through my Likes tab to find her tweet. Oh, here it is.” Sasha showed you her screen, patiently waiting for you to take the device from her hand to get a closer look. Her hopeful smile turned into a small pout when you made no moves in doing so. “Take my phone and see for yourself.”

You sighed, following her pleas. “It’s probably just someone from the volleyball team. You know how some of them never stopped following me around campus. Can’t they take the hint that they’re not my type?”

“This person is much better than those himbo simps following you around. She’s an amazing person behind that shy exterior of hers.”

You only hummed, blankly staring at your roommate’s phone before your eyes widened in realization. Your eyes skimmed over and over again at the handle, mkackerman, beside the display picture of a short-haired girl in pigtails. It was the girl that managed to capture your attention during your first year at Eldia University. The girl with an air of mystique that the stars are jealous of. You always admired her from afar, appreciating her style each day. But your admiration was getting replaced with something more at the five words she tweeted.

You’re so pretty in pink.

Roses bloomed in your cheeks, complimenting your pink hair the longer you gawked at her short post.

“What?” you breathed out after a full minute of silence.

“Mm-hmm,” Sasha hummed with a smug smile. “And who dyed her hair pink impulsively last weekend?” She intentionally looked at you with sharp eyes, her smile turning into a smirk full of mischief. In actuality, Sasha knew of Mikasa’s crush on you since they were acquainted with each other. It was an embarrassing first meeting between the two, with Sasha latching on a random person’s arm in the station and it turned out to be Mikasa. The two became great friends after that, well, after Mikasa lowered her guard down, leaving her pocket knife safely tucked underneath her checkered skirt. It was Sasha who managed to make Mikasa confess of her undying love for you, the former squealing her heart out in the library. (They were kicked out after that.)

“I don’t know,” you denied. “There could be a couple of people in the campus who thought that spontaneously dyeing their hair pink is an awesome idea.” You threw your hands in the air, giving back Sasha her phone right after.

“Trust me. Mikasa doesn’t have any interest in any other girl other than a special someone I know.”

You chose to ignore her, turning back on the discarded book on top of your covers. The words flew around your mind, aggravating you until you placed the novel on your lap. A defeated sigh came out of your lips. “Okay, let’s go out for some dinner.” You stretched, switching your pajama bottoms for a pair of loose jeans, and leaving your button-down pajama top on. The people in public will never know your top is a part of a pajama set. As you ducked down to roll the bottom of your jeans, you hear Sasha’s bed shuffling. Sitting up, you regarded her with an inquisitive raise of an eyebrow. “Spill it.”

“Oh, alright. Jean told me to bring you to a party.”

You stood up, patting your lap of imaginary dust, placing your things and book inside your tote bag. “Tell him no. I have a written exam coming up and I don’t want to fail one of my majors. He can manage without one person in our friendship group.”

Sasha huffed, mimicking your actions. “This will be the last time!”

“You said that the previous party you pulled me to.” You narrowed your eyes at her. “I couldn’t get up for a whole day because of that party. Don’t forget your wallet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sasha threw her wallet in her small bag, throwing the strap over her shoulder. “I promise that this will be the last time, I’ll even call Connie for the witness of my pact!” She placed a heartfelt palm over her chest, lifting her chin a little in the air. “I solemnly swear I am … keeping my promise.”

“You hesitated.”

The brown-haired girl giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of her neck. “It’s kind of hard not to continue the quote from Harry Potter. You can’t blame me for that!”

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

“You better because Mikasa will be there.”

You blinked at her statement. “What does this have to do with her?”

Your roommate looped her arm with yours, pulling you in the direction of the elevators. “Because,” it sounded like she was talking to a child, “you were staring at her earlier during lunch period. I understand that because Mikasa looks so good every second of the day but there was something different about the way you’re staring at her.” She tapped her finger on her chin. “Let me see, there’s some pizzaz there.”

“The pizzaz you’re talking about is me admiring her make-up — nothing more.”

“Whatever you say,” came Sasha’s sing-song voice. “I will be the first one who will say ‘I told you so’ to your face when you two start dating.”

The night of the party was not as bizarre as you thought.

Sure, there were people having shots in the living room but there weren’t any extreme scenarios lying around unlike some of the parties Connie and Jean went to. It was mostly catching up with old friends or making connections with strangers by ranting about the education system of your university. All in all, it was a fun night, yet here you are, holding your cup of beer with two hands as you craned your neck to get a glimpse of Sasha. Your roommate disappeared as you turned to get a shot, leaving a confused you behind. To think you specifically asked Sasha to be by your side throughout the night. You cursed in your head, you being reliant on the presence of others surfacing. Your stress made you tip your head back, downing your drink in a go.

Without anything to do, you leaned back on the wall. Mind hazy, eyes glassy, you searched the living room for a spunky brown-haired girl that you were supposed to be buddies with. Instead of Sasha, you met gazes with a girl with stars for her eyes. She was equally mesmerized as she was staring straight at you. Everything became silent as your heartbeat resonated with hers. She was beautiful in her all-black outfit — a leather pencil skirt over fishnet stockings, cropped tank top, and combat boots. The two of you are contrasting with one another; her lipstick so dark whilst yours shone a pretty coral, her hair framing her face in a midnight pixie cut whilst yours were in pink waves cascading down, her entire appearance blending in the background whilst you were a beacon with your coordinating soft outfit.

God damn it, Sasha was right.

You are definitely falling in love with Mikasa Ackerman.

Mikasa who you saw reading tarot cards of her blonde friend. Mikasa who you bumped into during the opening ceremony two years ago. Mikasa who you discovered to have an affinity for electric guitars when you stumbled in one of the auditoriums, her department’s band having an audition. Mikasa who never meets your gaze because you make her nervous at how effortless you carry yourself.

But tonight, she never looked away from you, her eyes having an adoring yet determined shine.

She stopped in front of you, mere inches separating you two. You looked up at her, her combat boots making her taller than she already is. You saw her eyes flick to your lips, your breath hitching at the thought of having her dark lipstick on any part of your body. With a careful tilt of her head, Mikasa ducked her head a little to fully meet your eyes face to face. “I saw you’re alone,” her voice is still soft-spoken as if she was afraid that she was scaring you. It might be because of the liquid and verbal courage she got from drinking and listening to her best friends because Mikasa had no plans of letting you go tonight. “I thought you needed company.”

A breath came out of your lips, your proximity making Mikasa feel it. “Uhm, if it’s you, I don’t see why not?”

A large smile brightened Mikasa’s face before it dimmed as she lowered her gaze to your lips once more. “I’ve been waiting three years for this.”

Maybe your mind was too hazy with alcohol or it could be because you accepted your feelings for the black-haired girl, so you whispered, lips brushing against hers in the most addicting way possible, “Just kiss me, Mikasa.”

Her lips softly moved against yours in a slow dance, the inches separating you disappearing as Mikasa wrapped an arm around your waist. You lift a hand to cup her jaw, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and to brush your tongue with hers. You felt her shiver, biting your lower lip to make you open up more, with your whimpers tingling her hearing. Mikasa pulled away, trailing firm kisses on the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. Seeing the black kiss mark on your skin, she smiled and placed fluttering kisses on your neck up to your cheek. Opening your eyes, the silver grays in front of you have never been so beautiful. You returned the favor of placing kiss marks. You stood on your tiptoes, feeling Mikasa’s hand steadying you, and left a coral pink mark on the corner of her mouth.

Mikasa dipped her head, placing her lips close to your ear.

“I want to slow dance with you,” she sung to your ear. “I know all the other boys are tough and smooth and I got the blues. I want to slow dance with you.” Mikasa hid a small smile at your flustered expression. “So can I be your vampire queen, Bonnie?”

The moment you said yes, there was a shout in the crowds. “Hell yeah, your plan worked, Eren, Armin!”

You and Mikasa stared at each other with wide eyes before laughing.

“Let’s go ditch this party.”

“Thought you’d never ask, Bonnie.”

#attack on titan #aot #mikasa #Mikasa Ackerman #mikasa x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman x you #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk anime #goth!mikasa #i am a sucker for this dynamic #attack on titan x reader

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blindbeta · 3 years

Note

Different anon here! I have a character who's blindness is incident related, but it's been several years since then and the story isn't heavily focused on his trauma (or at least that specific trauma, as he has others that aren't related to blindness)

This was before I knew injury-based blindness was a harmful/potentially harmful trope though, so now I'm worried that I'll have to rewrite his backstory entirely to avoid writing about experiences I don't have, or pushing any harmful tropes that are already pushed far too much.

What do you think? Could I still use that as part of his story without focusing too much on that specific traumatic event, or do you think it's better for me to discard it entirely?

The Accident Narrative/Going Blind Through Trauma trope and How to Make It Better - (I’m just calling it that because I don’t know if this thing has a name)

My problem with this trope - and the problem many people have with it- is very specific. I’ll try to break it down for you so it is easier to understand. My problem is basically with the execution.

Characters go blind unrealistically often from traumatic accidents in media. Mainly because it creates a lot of drama, which is fair, if cheap. It is also a good story starter if the story will be about them being all sad that they’re blind. These stories usually focus heavily on the blind part rather than the trauma part, and they paint blindness as the worst thing that can happen to anyone. Including death. Sometimes the character grows out of this feeling and sometimes they don’t.

The way you portray this is what changes the narrative.

I like that your story takes place several years after the incident although how well it is done will depend on the portrayal of the resulting blindness. Blindness can be tough, but avoiding considering the incident a tragedy that ended his vision could help. Not having too much of a woe-is-me attitude toward it will also help. Starting the story years after the incident creates beneficial distance.

With this in mind, the story won’t be - about - him going blind and then adapting and possibly being sad, possibly not sad about it. That would be a type of story that is probably best left to blind people who lost their vision later in life. Your story avoids this issue by starting the story well after the incident occurred. When you said you didn’t want to write about something you hadn’t experienced, to tell a story that wasn’t yours to tell, this is what you want to avoid. If you aren’t writing about going blind/being blind, you’re good, at least for this question.

So, you have avoided writing about the experience of going blind (and having that be the focus of your story) and starting the story at another time so your character can have some distance from his trauma. Your story will not be showing your character tragically losing his sight and learning to adapt. -dramatic sniffle-

The other part of this ask that really works for me is the part about focusing on different traumas. It sounds like the character is going to have more to them, and the idea of the Blindness Trauma being not as significant as other more recent traumas sounds good and true to life. It also takes the focus away from any implications of blindness as particularly tragic and all-encompassing. Your character will expirience different things just as anyone else would. Focusing more heavily on other things in his life is a good idea. That, coupled with the distance from the initial traumatic incident makes it okay with me.

What else can you do?

Here are a few other options for you or other readers who are writing incident-related blindness:

1. Have them focus on the traumatic incident itself rather than the resulting blindness.

Yes, going blind can change your life. It can be scary and someone may need to grieve their vision loss as they would any other major change. However, this doesn’t have to be the dramatic take-up-an-entire story thing either.

If you decided to write flashbacks, you can show the character mostly dealing with trauma, with blindness as a reminder of it. This puts the focus on the traumatic incident itself healing from trauma rather than trying to heal from blindness. When sighted people write about this, it comes out as awkward, not relatable, and impossible to separate voice-type things - like worrying about never being able to marry - from the authors own opinion or worries about blindness.

Focusing on the trauma of say, extreme injury can help with that. It is important to make a distinction for the reader, who usually goes in not knowing much about blindness and conceptualizing it as one of the worst things that could happen to them. Make it as clear as you can that the character is upset due to trauma rather than being devastated their life is over because they are blind.

2. Have the trauma happen off-screen / have them not remember it much due to young age

It sounds like this is also what you’re going to do. You could mention the traumatic incident briefly, without too many dramatic details. A few descriptive sentences should be enough. You could write it for reference and only take a few samples from it you liked. This keeps the focus away from drama for drama’s sake. It also disrupts the usual narrative, putting you farther away from the Accident Narrative or trope. You could simply have had the character be too young to remember much detail.

3. Add more blind characters

This one is good for any story. You should always trace your logic for topics like the one you presented or consider how to do things better, but one easy way to avoid readers thinking all blind people are like your character (which they might), you can add another blind character or more who were born blind or went blind at a very young age. Who don’t struggle with being blind generally. This exposes your readers to more ideas of blind people.

When your story is standing on the line between nuanced character and meeting a stereotype, you should absolutely have at least one other if not a few blind characters. In fact, I would be surprised if a story like this didn’t have other blind characters and, if I were reading this story randomly, I might even feel less forgiving or open to what was different about the Accident Narrative this time.

Thank you for asking this question. It is kind of challenging to answer and I had to rewrite this a few times. Basically, you want to do what you can to disrupt the usual portrayals of blindness because there are actually so few and most are made by people who aren’t blind or even disabled. You cannot make this trope or stereotype go away, but you can try to shake it up. Because this can be done differently, to avoid writing about adapting the tragic blindness, I am ok with this type of story.

I don’t know if this one is harmful exactly, but it is frustrating to see and can certainly lead to some harmful ideas, such as blindness only being tragic even when someone was born blind. I have a review coming up for a book called Blind that might be helpful, as well as a post called Tropes I’m Tired Of that I hope will help. Your ask definitely helped me consider more ways this trope could be made more bearable and concentrate on what exactly I dislike about it.

All that said, this is not a post encouraging people to use this narrative in all their projects. Only if you feel like it is necessary and fits the character. I would like for this trope to be less common than being born blind or going blind in a way that isn’t so dramatic and, possibly, abrupt. When most characters go blind through traumatic accidents it contributes to people’s idea that blindness is not only traumatic for anyone at any age, but also cannot be anything but a tragedy.

I really hope this helps. Of course, I would really encourage a few different sensitivity readers with this story. Just to get different perspectives. There is another blind person who also offers sensitivity reading at @sensitivityreaders and it might help to get them or someone else, in addition to me. Because I would love to read this sometime.

-BlindBeta

#ask #anon ask #blind #blind characters #writing blind characters #blind people #writing #accident narrative

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

Dancing lessons

Summary: Lily shares a few dances with her son.

Notes: For @sweeethinny who asked me both for a story with Lily teaching Harry how to waltz and for family moments, and for the Anon who asked for a little of Harry jealous with Krum.

This story ties with 'Emergency Meeting', 'Hope' and 'Shotgun wedding' in this Jily Lives AU. Banner thanks to @the-dream-team!

On AO3 or below:

‘Merlin, this is stupid,’ Harry declares, right before he steps over her foot for the third time. ‘Sorry, Mum!’

Lily smiles, even though her foot hurts now. For someone who seems to have two left feet, he managed to hit her precisely in the same place all three times.

‘That’s fine, Harry,’ she tells him quietly, coming closer to him again. ‘No, hold my hand firmly. Yeah, like that. You are supposed to be leading me in the dance, remember?’

‘Yeah, right,’ he murmurs, not all convincing. Lily has seen him less nervous before he faced the dragon than he is with the prospect of the opening dance at the Yule Ball. At least, he didn’t call her so urgently with concerns about how to deal with a dragon.

‘One, two, three,’ she calls loudly, helping him guide her through that rented room in the Three Broomsticks. ‘One more time… now you spin me.’

He does, albeit with a little difficulty; Lily is still taller than him, though she knows this won’t last long. She remembers how James went through a growth spurt around fifteen; and she remembers what also happened with him during that time, all those teenage hormones.

Harry grew up so fast...

‘Very good,’ she compliments him. ‘Don’t forget she’ll be wearing dress robes, so be careful not to step over.’

‘Not step on the foot, not step on the dress — why did they invent dances?’

‘You might enjoy someday,’ she tells him, a knowing smile on her lips that Harry doesn’t understand yet. ‘So, tell me about this girl you are going with.’

Harry frowns. ‘Parvati? She’s nice. Ron is going with her sister.’

‘Oh, double date, then?’

‘Date?’ Harry blinks, surprised, then scandalized. ‘It’s not a date!’

‘You are going as friends?’

‘Yeah, but —’ he still looks lost. ‘Do you think she thinks it’s a date? Should it be one? What do I do?’

‘Breath, for starters,’ she tells him and, for good measure, Lily waits until Harry takes a deep breath, the panic in his eyes dimming. ‘I think you would know if it were a date. People do know these things, you know?’

Harry doesn’t seem like he knows it at all, but he nods, suddenly much more at ease.

‘Is she the girl you asked your father about weeks ago?’

A blush comes to his cheek. It’s rather adorable, she thinks, but she keeps from showing it. Harry is really shy when it comes to his feelings; one wrong word and he’ll crawl back into his shell and she won’t be able to take any word out of him.

‘No, that was… someone else.’

‘Didn’t work?’

His shoulders slump. ‘Someone else had already asked her out.’

‘Oh, it happens.’

‘Yeah.’ He looks dismayed.

‘You know, it happened to me once. I was going to ask your father out, well, at least that was what I tried to tell myself, but then he already had a date.’

Harry’s eyes widen. Lily remembers James speaking how unfathomable it is to Harry to think of his parents being with anyone else.

‘He rejected you?’

Lily lets out a laugh. ‘Rejection is a strong word, I hadn't even asked him out when I found out he had other plans. It was by the end of our Sixth Year, the last trip to Hogsmeade, and he went with this girl... Let me tell you, it was a miserable summer for me afterwards.’

‘Oh.’ Harry bits the inside of his cheek, thoughtful. ‘Because he was dating someone else?’

‘That was the funny thing, I didn’t know if he was with someone or not, because I was too afraid to ask and make it evident that I was fancying him just as he used to... well, in any case, no, what made me the most miserable was not knowing what he’d say if I had asked him out.’

‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘I mean, at least I know Cho didn’t deny it because she didn’t want to, but because I was too late.’

‘Cho?’, she asks, keeping her voice light. His blush intensifies and Harry spins her again more to gain time than because it was the correct step. It is a nice spin, though. ‘Is she in your year?’

‘No, one above.’ He stops, unsure. ‘Does it make a difference? If she is older?’

‘One year is not much,’ Lily assures him, and then Harry starts moving again as this weight is lifted from his shoulders. ‘And for older — I’m older than your father.’

‘For two months.’

‘Still makes me wiser,’ she promises him, making him laugh. ‘Well, you can ask her out some other time. You can even ask her for a dance at the Yule Ball!’

He sighs heavily, a disbelieving expression coming to his face. ‘Oh, she wouldn’t accept it.’

‘Come on’, she winks at him. ‘Being a Triwizard Champion must come with some benefit.’

He grimaces. ‘Her date is one too.’

‘Cedric?’ she guesses. ‘Oh, bad luck, Harry. He is nice.’

‘He is bloody annoying,’ he mumbles, then his eyes meet hers. ‘Ops, sorry.’

‘Oh, you should have heard what I used to call Cecily,’ she replies easily, shrugging, feeling silly for her young self.

‘Who?’

‘Cecily Jones, the girl who went on that date with your father.’

‘He never mentioned —’

‘I doubt he remembers, Harry,’ she laughs. ‘It was one date — they weren’t going out in the summer, after all — and it didn’t matter afterwards. If you and this girl, Cho, are meant to be, you’ll find your path to each other eventually.’

‘You think so?’

‘Well, you wouldn’t be here if your father and I didn’t,’ reminds Lily. ‘Just remember — always take a leap. And if you ask her to dance, well, I think you’ll do just fine.’ She pauses them. ‘You didn’t step on my foot once in the last five minutes.’

‘Oh!’, amazement shines on his eyes. ‘I can dance!’

‘A waltz at least,’ she agrees, ruffling his hair fondly. ‘Our summer project will be teaching you to loose your hips.’

___________

The ginger boy has a crossed expression on his face when Lily pulls him to the dance floor.

‘Mum,’ he calls, annoyed, as she places his hand around her waist as she did years ago. He grimaces, but takes her hand, moving rather graciously for someone who is wearing the wrong body. He still remembers, she notes gladly.

‘Son,’ she answers back, teasing.'You know, you could have been born like this.'

'What do you mean?'

'Ginger like me, but with your father's eyes.'

The boy doesn’t look like her or James at all, but it’s a nice thought all the same. Lily always wondered how another child of her and James might look like...

'So people you just give me the "you look like your mother but have your father's eyes"?'

'That would be a change.'

'Not really,' he mumbles, distracted. His eyes keep moving away from her, and judging by the way Harry sighed when the bridesmaids first appeared during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, she knows who he is looking at.

And it’s not to the bride’s young sister.

‘You should ask her for a dance.’

‘Who?,’ he asks guiltily, looking back at her. Lily raises one eyebrow, not impressed with his attempt to playing dumb.

‘While you can. Before you leave.’

‘I —’ he stops, conflicted. His face is all wrong, not one single resemblance to her son, and yet his expression is the same in the face of that muggle boy Harry is impersonating for the day. ‘It’s because I’m leaving that I can’t.’

‘The things we don’t do haunt us more than the things we do,’ she warns him, and Harry looks wistfully, his longing evident. Then an annoyed furious expression crosses his face, and he presses her hand as if to stop himself from taking his wand; when Lily follows the direction of his gaze, she sees Viktor Krum going to the table where Ginny and Luna are talking happily.

‘I could hex him,’ Harry murmurs darkly. ‘I wouldn’t regret that.’

She smiles, amused. ‘I thought Ron was the one with problems with Krum?’

‘I’m starting to agree with him,’ he replies. ‘A toss, really… Thinks he is so great because he is an international Quidditch player, big deal…’

Lily doubts this will matter to Ginny and, sure enough, as they watch, Ginny shakes her head at whatever Krum is saying, and Krum leaves, clearly dejected. Harry grins, satisfaction all over his face, and as if she can sense his stare, Ginny turns towards them.

Harry turns away quickly, but Lily knows it was not enough.

‘Harry…’

'She will accept it,' he mumbles, dismayed. 'Maybe not Krum, maybe not today, but her future is so free whereas mine…'

'Is bright too,' she finishes for him, voice stern now. 'Self-doubt will not take you anywhere, Harry. And you may have not noticed while you were brooding in the corner, but she kept throwing glances at you too. She wants to dance with you.'

'Oh. I… I would step on her foot.'

'Of course not, I taught you well,' Lily tells him with a smile, breaking away. 'I am going to find your father.'

There is a whole new trouble on Harry's face now and Lily refrains from sighing.

'I'll see you later. I’ll just stick around here for a while.'

'Mustering the courage?' she guesses wisely. He flushes. 'Remember, if you are meant to be -'

'We'll find our path to each other. Yeah, I know.'

She places a quiet kiss on his cheek, enjoying the fact that for the first time in a couple of years she is taller than him.

'Things will be fine, Harry. Don't lose hope.'

_____________

Harry is beaming, happiness written all over his face, wrinkles at the corner of his eyes more prominent than ever. Lily enjoys the fact those wrinkles come from laughing, not worrying.

Next to them, the bride and the groom's father are making a mess on the dance floor, spinning each other out of control, giggling crazily, and Harry looks at them with fondness.

'I thought Dad knew how to dance,' he says, amused.

'He does, but you know him. He likes to show off.'

Harry laughs. It's a carefree sound, not a single weight on his shoulders today.

'Well, let's show him how it's done, then?' he suggests, offering her his hand and Lily takes it graciously, letting her son conduct her to the dance floor.

He really waltzes well.

'You've been training,' she notes. Harry smiles guiltily.

'I like to dance in front of the mirror. Helps me to relax.'

'We only need to upgrade your dancing moves.'

'Ginny has this project, don't worry. We have a record player at home, she is teaching me all the good old wizarding songs. Sirius will help me with the Muggle ones and next thing I'm hitting a dancing club.'

She smiles at the idea of Harry in a nightclub; he is past twenty now, married and living away, but he is still her child in many ways.

'We should make him or her take dance classes,' he adds as an afterthought, his gaze falling to her belly, though there isn't any bump there yet. 'Make sure they won't get embarrassed in a school dance when they are older.'

'Nah, big brother Harry can teach them how to dance.'

He nods happily, spinning her around. The movement makes them get closer to James and Ginny.

'Switch partners?' James suggests, winking at them.

Harry laughs and spins his mother one last time, just as James does the same with Ginny. Lily finds herself in the arms of her husband, who stops long enough to kiss her tenderly, before drifting her away to the dancing floor.

Her husband waltzes nicely when he wants, Lily thinks joyfully, and with her pregnant, she knows he will be extra careful. James is cautious like that, but she lets him enjoy that protectiveness. It doesn’t come attached with any other worry — no war, no threat on their lives, and that’s something she can learn to live with.

Her gaze moves to the other couple. Harry and Ginny shine under the lights of the tent, today no other couple holding a candle for the happiness that irradiates from them. Her gaze drops and she watches as their feet move in synchrony, Harry always careful to avoid stepping over her long wedding dress.

Yes, she thinks. I really taught him well.

#Harry & Lily #Eyes glistening #Jily Lives #Jily Fanfiction #Hinny Fanfiction #t: fanfiction #family fluff #happy ending

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ladyfogg · 3 years

Note

Hellooo! For the prompts, I was thinking of a little Jimmy Darling ditty where he and the reader are just sitting around enjoying a moment of peacefulness, and talking about their lives together after they leave the show? That'd literally just be the sweetest thing in the world!!

Thank you so much, and I love your work ♡♡

A/N: Aww, this was an adorable prompt. Thank you, Anon! Hope you like it!

Pairing: Jimmy Darling/Female Reader

Rating: M

The Evans Masterpost.

You guys have been working your asses off the last few days. The show has been sold out multiple nights in a row, which is great since you all need the money. It doesn’t make it any less exhausting though. You and Jimmy have been so busy, you haven’t even had a chance to spend any time together.

Between practices, prep work, the show, then clean up, every hour of your day has been filled from morning to night.

Thankfully, there is a bit of a lull before the next set of shows. After you finish handing out tickets, you retire to your trailer to enjoy some much-needed you time. You wish Jimmy was with you but you know that he’ll catch up once he’s done.

In the meantime, you climb up on top of your trailer, lay a blanket down, and lounge back. It’s one of your favorite spots to unwind. Everyone knows that when you’re sitting on top of the trailer, they’re to leave you the hell alone and not bother you.

Not realizing how tired you are, you end up dozing off to the cool breeze and darkening sky. Sometime later, a gentle hand strokes your face and lips touch yourself.

“Mmmm, I know that mouth,” you grin as you lazily open your eyes.

“Damn right you do,” Jimmy says. He stretches out next to you, tucking his hands behind his head. “Have a good nap, doll face?”

“It would have been better with you.”

“I know. We’ve been so fucking busy.”

“Which is a good thing.”

“Right. Good for the show. Not good for spending time together.”

You drape yourself across his chest, tucking your face into his neck. “We’re together now.”

“Yeah. We are.”

He wraps his arms around you and holds you close, enjoying your warmth just as you’re enjoying his.

“Hey, Jimmy?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever think about what you want to do. You know. After this?”

He’s quiet for a moment, fingers tracing lazy patterns up and down your back. “I’ve got some ideas.”

“Like what?”

“Stay in one fucking place for starters,” he says. “Traveling’s all good and shit, but I’m tired. I want to stay somewhere long enough to call it home. Somewhere...”

He pauses, letting his thought hang unfinished. You glance up at him, resting your chin on his chest. “What? What were you going to say?”

He holds up his hand to start at his deformity. “Somewhere that won’t mind this.”

Without missing a beat, you take his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips so you can kiss his fingers. “Well wherever we go, they’ll just have to fucking get used to it.”

He smiles and pulls you into a kiss. “God I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“What about you? What do you want to do?”

“You.”

Jimmy grins, gently tickling your side to get you to laugh. “Besides that.”

“I don’t care. Honestly, Jimmy. As long as we’re together, that’s good enough for me.”

His eyes go soft and he cups your cheek, bringing you down into another slow and sweet kiss. The two of you stay there most of the night, kissing and talking under the stars, planning for whatever future that’ll keep the two of you together forever. Exactly how it’s supposed to be.

#jimmy darling #jimmy darling x reader #jimmy darling x you #evan peters

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saturnsummer · 3 years

Note

hi! i can’t believe i’m doing this, being cowardly and asking anonymously, which is so not like me, but i’m really not sure about the feedback i’ll get from this ask so here goes. i really hope you don’t take this the wrong way. i just don’t know who else to ask and among the authors i see in tumblr you’re the one with all the headcanons and looks into their characterization and all huhu.

i just noticed that in the majority of angst(y) aus, sol (a) is always the one who is constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop, prioritising her family over hwi/not considering him her family, or ends up pushing hwi away and then the relationship turns out badly, and by badly meaning it ends. i understand the first one since that’s really been the case for the majority of what we get a glimpse of in her life. but i don’t understand the others and i want to understand because so many people are writing it that way, and i interpret it as: they see something i don’t. maybe there are things about her character that i can’t or perceive differently or my 21 year old brain lacks the wisdom for that i miss how it progresses to that. but since i’m too shy to interact with anyone i don’t have anyone to compare notes with, huhu. i don’t really understand the others them because:

she basically said she’ll root for him in his uncle’s place which isn’t something to be taken lightly, she knows the gravity of what she said and more than anyone else she knows what it feels like to have family leave you behind/alone and all (i hope u get what i mean here and that this is sufficient, it’ll get even longer if i add more explaining)

she has high EQ, she basically hit all the right spots in the before they uploaded the video part (if it wasn’t for assemblyman ko…) and this scene is also another example of number 3 where she ends up opening herself up to him again

she knows he understands her in a sense and has this certain level of trust towards him, it can be seen on how she told him about dan but not about anyone else, and even if hwi didn’t show up at that time it can also be seen that she somehow opens up to him in the drinking water as if its booze scene. I guess i just observed that in the instances where she takes the first step and tries to push him away, she rather ends up opening herself up to him.

hwi also has high EQ or at least towards sol (lmao) and combined with his high IQ and the fact that he understands her contributes to number 3

and not all of these scenes can be considered as “working out alright and happily and greatly” since there are challenges in them but somehow it never reaches to that degree :<

as i said i want to compare notes because i understand only a portion of where its based on. i’m not saying its ooc since there is a bedrock on where that could possibly come from, it’s just that i can’t comprehend how its probable to reach up to that degree based on my understanding of their characters huhu. if it is a writer’s thing though perhaps it’s most likely why i don’t understand since all i’ve ever done my whole life is read and not really the type that writes. huhu.

i’m really not complaining or insulting or saying anything bad about or offending the fics, honestly huhu. i just want to learn more about her character and i’m bad at saying things not bluntly :< i tried my best :<

also, if you’re not comfortable with answering posting the answer publicly but still considering to or want to answer my question (i’ve used tumblr for so long but don’t know how asks work) if know a way to kinda hide the ask but answer it and say you want me to dm you about it, i can :<

hello anon! thank you for this analysis that while lengthy, does give me a bit of insight!

I think all your points are valid! about why she’s the one that is the start of the angst, why she pushes him away and not the other way around! I completely get your meaning, and honestly i do see the things you are seeing too!

this is just my personal take on this and how i view sol as being the ‘start’ of angst, why aren’t there fics on joon being the ‘start’ of angst and all, so please do take this with a pinch of salt!

I’ve personally not written any headcanons/fics that are mainly angst centred yet, so I would have to draw on my understanding of sol and joonhwi as characters from law school.

for sol, she’s a big emotional girl. you could see from the way she argues in class, with her friends, with how she reacts all the time. she rides on emotions and uses her heart a little more than her brain. like the bad fama case, she couldn’t give up cause she was emotional about it. like you said, she has a high EQ!

a possible reason to the angst on her part is due to the emotions as well. being someone that follows her heart so closely, she’s easily affected by the people around her and swayed easily. it would make a little more sense for the angst to derive from her, maybe from feeling that she lacks the love for joon. or maybe, a certain incident and she breaks it off.

one other reason is her upbringing. we know that she has biological father that is different from her stepfather. we also know that it is implied that her biological father is not present in her life, and her stepfather is abusive to her mother. as such, this must have been hard on her. imagine growing up in a family far from perfect, would one believe in love? many cases, some say no. they have never seen a healthy relationship before, much less seen one grow in their eyes from young till adulthood. this is the same for sol too. she didn’t see a perfect family, she saw a broken family, no father figure and her mother who endured abuse. this ultimately might make sol think “why is there a need for love? will I end up like my parents? is joon going to leave me, like my biological father did?” it’s undeniable that she might have these thoughts in her mind. thus, it’s a more common catalyst of angst, in a breakup thinking she’s not good enough, or she’s not ready, or undeserving.

as such, most writers might maybe find it easier to draw on this aspect of sol as the angst starter. a short example of this would be in my ongoing “the fairytale you never had (would you believe again?)” fic and in my oneshots “worthy” !

however, I do wonder, “why isn’t joonhwi the one with angst? is sol the only messy one here?” quickly, I thought back to most of the scenes of joonhwi when he is troubled, confused or any sign of him showing emotions.

joonhwi can be an angst starter, but I think it drawn on less since it’s so hard to draw on. from the base line, we know he’s smart. we know he’s probably rich. we know his uncle is the closest person to him. we know his parents died. but all these are just facts, no emotions. in everything that joonhwi does, he does it out of compliance, law abiding, or of a moral code. very few instances does he act of emotions or show a raw side of him.

the only times we could see it would be when he’s confronting his uncle, or the moments with sol later on in the show. he rarely shows emotions, and it’s hard to understand him or his troubles when he doesn’t show many emotions and we don’t know enough about his life. we know he looks up to his uncle, but it’s impossible for him, an orphan, to not miss his parents or have his missing parents not play a role in his development.

thus, his angst would most probably derive from “can i trust her, even after this?”, “is she lying, to cover up something?”, “is sol really the sol I believe in? or was it an entire lie?” his angst would come from one of trust and not from emotions.

i would really love to give a full analysis, but im no good with this. you can always dm me on Twitter or tumblr and we can always have a chat on this! would love to draw from my fellow writer friends to pitch in on this too, since they are honestly better at the analysis. im just a free writer!

thank you anon for you query! do dm me on tumblr/twitter (whichever is comfortable!) and we can discuss more! i’ll keep your identity secret, no worries!

#askakino #law school #jtbc law school #jtbc drama #kang sol a #han joon hwi #solhwi #jtbc #kang sol a x han joon hwi #joonsola

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anxiousnerdwritings · 3 years

Note

hiya! it's me, the one and only knull anon!! ik you arent currently accepting requests or asks, and that's fine, but I recently written something for LexLuthor and I though I should share. this ask is in no way telling you to start posting again, or anything of the sort. remeber, mental health is always the most important thing! but I was thinking of you today and I was hoping you were doing good. so hopefully this piece will help improve your mood. again, you dont have to awnser this at all rn, only when you feel better!

ps, this has been spell checked by google so that's why it uppercase lol

~~~~~~

"How long do I have to wear this dress?"

"As long as the gala goes on, ___"

"Just call it a fancy party, or a luxurious gathering since its you-"

"Oh, do not get smart with me, ____"

Pulling at the top of your dress, you tried to loosen up the tightness of the neck area. It felt like a noose to you. Fortunately, the fabric was soft, extremely luxurious, and it covered every part of your body, excluding your hands and head.

Lex, on the other hand, was in some kind of fancy suit, that looked more expensive than the carpet in his penthouse. And his carpet was more expensive then your phone bill. Well, when you had a phone.

You didn't remember when he had found you, but you remember before. At least, bits and pieces of it. A home in a suburban neighborhood, a mom and a dad, a normal looking life for a kid like you. However, after a few months ago, it was far from normal.

You were given the finest things people would want in life, in return for… hanging out with lex luthor. It sounded weird at first, but you soon realized it wasn't a joke.

You werent treated as a prostitute, and not as a lover either: you weren't even legal. If you had to guess the relationship between you and Lex, it would have to be a father and daughter kind of relationship. Which also could explain why he wanted you to call him dad.

Back to this "gala", Lex actually would ban you from going to any party at all and left you with guards at all parts of the penthouse you were stationed at, sometimes even leaving you with Mercy.

You didn't really know why he was letting you go out to this gala, but you had a few ideas. For starters, this gala was not just for anyone, it was for extremely rich people who had nothing better to do then sit around in a room. Which also explained the reason why everything looked the price of a liver.

Another possible reason was that a close colleague of your "dad" had seen you walking around in the penthouse. You never saw who it was but Lex advised you to stay out of sight when people were visiting.

Fortunately he didn't get as mad as you expected him to which was a good thing to be honest. He wasn't the type to tell you, more just reprimand you in a voice that just spelt disappointment.

Anyway. It wasn't good to think of when he was angry with you. Right now you had to focus on the people who were trying to figure out who you were.

Sticking close to Lex was easy, since he was 6 feet tall. Easily. And the fact that people wouldn't approach you when you were next to him. Only the people who you actually recognized either from voice or appearance were brave enough to even look in your direction.

The night was almost over when a man approached the two of you. At this point your feet were getting sore and when you asked Mercy for the time, she responded that it was almost 12: lex would definitely send you to bed as soon as you got home again.

However, the man who approached the two of you was familiar. It only took a few seconds of going through your memories and seeing Lexs face turn to slight annoyance to realize this was Bruce Wayne.

He walked up to the two of you and smiled down at you.

"Well, I didnt know Lex had a child. What is your name?"

You were about to respond when Lex interrupted you. "Their name is ____. And unfortunately, we were just about to leave. I hope that whatever you were going to ask can wait until later?"

Wayne's smile faltered a little, before it turned neutral. "Unfortunately, no, but it is a quick question. And one that I need to speak with you in private?" He looked at you, before speaking again, "No harm meant."

You were about to respond again, when Lex motioned to Mercy. "Mercy, could you take ____ back to the limo? I will be just a moment- oh, and do not let her out of your sight."

Mercy nodded, and taking your hand, she led you back to the elevator where the entrance was. All while everyone was focused on the two of you.

Wayne was the first to speak. "Shes not yours, is she?"

"____ is my daughter, and I hope you would have the decency to not spew this to the media. You dont seem the type of man to feed the media with info, especially not of a, young girl."

Wayne looked offended, and didnt even try to hide it in his face. "No. If anything, I was wondering why you, of all people, would be taking care of a child."

Lex did not seem offended. "Oh, but you have so many children, I thought it was a necessity." Lex leaned in a little towards Wayne and whispered, "And to be quite honest with you, it is none of your concern."

Wayne simply glared at Luthor before Lex started moving away from Wayne.

"Well, I'm sorry to say but I believe I've kept ____ waiting for long enough. I'm afraid I must go."

He didnt wait for Wayne to say anything he simply stormed off to the elevator and left.

Wayne did nothing but walk over to the windows, where he was able to get a clear view of Mercy holding your forearm and opening the limo door while a few more guards stood near you. Lex appeared soon after with his own guards and ushered you in the car.

Lifting his hand towards his ear, he commed his own children.

Whispering, he said "All of you better be following that limo when I get down there."

He heard Dick chuckle. "Oh, dont worry Bruce. I think the 4 trackers on that thing will be enough."

Bruce didnt say anything as he watched the limo drive off into the distance. Figuring it was time to dip, he left his wine glass empty at a table and left the room, and trying to figure out who was the strange girl he had just met.

~~~~~~

oof so now as I paste this here from google docs I feel like an asshole by sending you this so I just want to remind you that you can awnser this whenever you want! I might send in some more in the future but I want you to prioritize mental health over tumblr! your health matter, both physically and mentally! and dont forget it! with lots of love,

- knull anon

Sorry I didn’t see this sooner! This is really good!💖💕 I love the idea of Lex Luther and Bruce Wayne beefing over poor Reader. Having two extremely rich, intelligent and determined people duke it out just appeals to me for some reason.

Don’t feel bad, thank you for sending this in while I was gone🥰💚. It was nice.

#anxious answers #knull anon

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

Note

Hi! Do you have any advice for those who want to start writing?

Yes! So honored you asked. I'll put it below the cut. Other writers, feel free to chime in!

(Gearing this specifically towards tickle fics because, well, *gestures around*)

- Mentioned it a whole bunch in my other advice post but it really is a big deal: Write for yourself. I cannot stress it enough. Whatever you like to write, make sure you're having fun and you're writing what you like.

- Find your style! There is no krabby patty formula for The Ideal Style. Everyone has different preferences. Your preferences matter most! If you like all caps laughter dialogue? Great! No laughter dialogue at all? Cool! Reader fics? Nice! First person fics? Sick (pos)! Most people emulate the things that they like to read in their writing and I think that's a great place to start! I like 3rd person POV with an internal monologue and that's what I stick to, pretty much.

- Follow your inspirations. Okay so this one, yes, but be careful. If you like someone's writing or style, there's nothing wrong with emulating it/borrowing bits. That's how I learned to draw, actually (and how most artists learn their craft). If you like a certain author and they do something you like, try it out for yourself! I personally am not a fan of laughter dialogue, so I looked to the amazing writers around me to see how they describe laughs/sensation. It's a great way to learn, because your voice and style will filter through. What this doesn't mean, though, is plagiarizing. Not to sound like a school teacher but if it ain't yours, don't use it.

- Your style will change. Embrace it. I have improved so much since my first fics, and I did that by embracing change. Changing things up is good, actually, and it helps keep things fresh for you! Take a risk, switch something up, etc. It'll help avoid feeling like your fics are stale.

- Writing is practice. The only way you can possibly learn is by doing it. Whether or not you have a blog, just get writing! Try things out! Pick a pairing/group/character and experiment. That's how I started my blog in the first place. I posted a few FinnPoe experiments that I had and decided that I liked it here. Practice, practice, practice, my loves. Don't crunch or make yourself miserable.

- (re: write for yourself, writing is practice) if you find yourself writing fics for the sake of writing/attention, not because you enjoy it, then step back. I had...trauma relating to creating any sort of fandom content because of this. Not everything is gonna be sunshine and roses (talked about in the next point), but if you feel miserable, it's okay to take a break. I don't want to lean too heavily on this, but if you'd like to read more on it, this post about covers it.

- You don't have to like everything you make, okay? You really don't. Don't let anyone tell you that you do. Not every fic is gonna be the Mona Lisa, either. I have many a fic that I've made that I loathe--some posted, some not. Sometimes you run out of steam, sometimes the idea doesn't blossom how you want, sometimes you just fall out of love with a fic. That's okay and normal. Just try to learn from the creative experience for your next go around.

- Taking prompts is hard. Don't hurt yourself. This...is one I need to get better at. If you're looking to run a blog and take prompts (which you don't have to do, btw), that's so cool and funky fresh of you, but do so with your health in mind. Please. If you get a prompt for something you don't like/are uncomfortable with, you don't have to write it. If you are creating content, you have no obligation to create anything that makes you uncomfortable.

If you wanna take prompts, take a number you can handle and the ones that inspire you most. If you have to decline a prompt, that's totally fine. Start and don't finish? That's okay too. People may be disappointed, but you matter more than that disappointment. I can talk more about taking prompts in another post if anyone's interested but I'll leave it at that for now.

- (Re: writing is practice) Get going! Easier said than done, I know, but really do get going. No amount of theorizing is gonna get a fic done, just do it. Try it out. You and your writing are worthy and ever-growing. The writers you idolize are likely agonizing over a WIP or five (hey writers go write a sentence on one of your WIPs rn). Take the leap and try.

- It's okay to work on a fic little by little. I have literally 30+ fics cooking at the moment. Every once in a while I add a paragraph or two. Sometimes I get inspired and write a fic or two in one go. I've had WIPs I've been sitting on since my blog's inception (*casts a sidelong glance at the Home Again series*) and that's perfectly okay. You'll see some people churning out fics every week. If that's you, great! If that's not you, that's okay. Be gentle with yourself.

- (Re: writing is practice, get going) Headcanons and drabbles do wonders for inspiration. I do this all the time. Tell us your thoughts on a character, write something short, etc. It's a great way to dip your toes in the water. Ask for headcanon requests if you want! I have a headcanon tag and I treat it like my spice rack when I write. Not only will writing little bite-sized bits help your brain get going, you'll be able to lean on these bits for later works. Do one of those little "send me a character" ask memes! Reblog a sentence starter list and ask for submissions! Or just do them on your own! Get going.

- Submit fics if you want! My submission box is open (I only take SFW submissions at the moment) and other writers likely take them too. Send an ask/message and ask the person (me included) if it's okay to submit something, and they'll host that fic on their blog! This is ideal for anon writers who don't want to/can't run a blog. I always sing the praises of having a blog because there's nothing better than having a space that's yours, but if you're nervous, that's an excellent place to start. Make sure you follow any submission rules that person may have (and sign your work)! AO3 is an excellent avenue as well.

- EDIT: Writing is like riding a bike. It may take some time for you to get used to it/get into a groove you’re happy with. That’s okay. Take your time and soon enough you’ll be on your way. If you fall, just make sure you get back up.

If you're looking for a sign to start, this is it. I believe in you. If anyone has any more questions, feel free to ask. Anon, I hope this helps <3

Other writers feel free to add your own advice!

#advice tag #bug answers #anon #thank you for asking <3 #if anyone has questions/comments my askbox is open and so are my dms #if you'd like to talk in specifics ('how was your experience writing x fic?' 'how did you do y?') im always happy to do so as well #if you want clarification/me to expand on one of the points above lmk! i have plenty more to say #sorry if i sound aggressive/tense/hostile at any point. ive made my fair share of mistakes and i dont want anyone to follow in my footsteps #hope this helps!!!!#writers feel free to add to this <3

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pynkhues · 3 years

Note

Hi Sophie! I’m an aspiring writer and I had a question for you!! How did you go on about finding an agent? Also how does one find job postings related to writing? (Tv, etc.) I’m very inspired by you and how talented you are!!!

Hi, anon! Thank you for your kind words, and it’s so exciting that you’re an aspiring writer! I think knowing that you want to write really is the first step on a pretty incredible journey, and it’s one that it helps have to have tools on. Knowing how to ask questions, like you did, is a great way to start building that toolkit too.

Especially because your writing toolkit will be something you build, because there’s not really one answer to either of your questions. I really mean it when I say writing and publishing is a journey, and as a part of that, the pathways people choose to take (and the pathways available to them) often vary a lot, and are impacted by so many things, from where you live to the genre and medium you write in to the networks you have access to.

I’m going to try to answer that for you as well as I can here which I hope will be a useful starting point for you, but I will be contextualizing it a bit with the fact that a) I’m in Australia, which has a bit of a different industry to many parts of the world (in no small part because we have a very small population), and b) that I worked in the industry before I started having my work published, which did give me a jump start and a pretty good network of professional and personal support.

Okay!

So let’s jump in.

Behind a cut because this got a bit long.

How did I get an agent?

Well! I was rejected by four agents before I got one, haha, so that in itself was a bit of an adventure. It meant that I was effectively my own agent for quite a while (something that’s quite normal in Australia for reasons I’ll talk about later), which meant doing everything from pitching works to teaching myself enough legal vocabulary to negotiate contracts (not my strong suit honestly, haha).

The first two agents I ever spoke to were both agents that weren’t open for unsolicited submissions. This is an important term in the industry, because what that means is that they’re not reading any new writers who:

they didn’t invite to submit (usually this would be after you’d won a prize, or they’d read your short story or essay in a journal or magazine, loved it and got in touch)

didn’t come recommended by colleagues; or

didn’t come through their existing networks.

Does that mean you can’t get your work in front of them? It doesn’t actually. Usually when agents aren’t open for unsolicited submissions, they’ll still be interested in work. It just usually means they don’t have the time for a massive slush pile. What they frequently do in these instances instead is that they’ll attend conferences, festivals, workshops or events and do pitching sessions a couple of times a year. That usually looks like you booking a five, ten or fifteen minute window, generally for free (be cautious if they’re charging extra on top of your event ticket) and doing a verbal pitch of your project.

I’ve done a lot of these at various events in various contexts (it’s always hell, haha), but only twice to agents. Once was at the CYA Conference in Brisbane (which is a charged pitch but the money’s a donation towards the Children’s Book Council), where I pitched a YA manuscript I’ve since put in my bottom-drawer, and Emerging Writers Festival in Melbourne, where I pitched The Rabbits, which is my novel which came out in July with Penguin Australia.

Those pitching sessions went just okay. Both liked my pitches, but the agent at CYA had a full stable of YA authors and was more looking for middle-grade fiction, which meant my story skewed too old. She gave me her card if I ever wrote for a younger audience, but otherwise declined to invite me to submit. Again, this is frequently actually why an agent might be closed to submissions or they might reject your work even if they like it – they're just at capacity with what you're pitching.

The one at EWF went better and I was invited to submit my complete manuscript, but she told me that while she thought I was a good writer, she didn’t personally like my writing style and therefore didn’t think she could sell it. She did actually invite me to submit something else if I had something more commercial, but I really figured that if she didn’t like my writing style, she probably wasn’t going to like whatever else I sent her, so I ended up declining because I thought it would be a waste of both our time.

The other two agents I submit to were both open for unsolicited submissions so I didn’t have to go through events. In both cases, I did cold submissions, which just means we’d never spoken before, so when you do that you need to put together a query packet because - - well. They don’t know who you are, haha. All publishers and agents have different requirements for their query packet and these should be listed on their website (if they’re not, feel really empowered to email and ask – in all of my industry experience, they have always infinitely preferred you doing that to guessing. It shows you know the etiquette and want to get it right).

Generally speaking though, what you're looking at pulling together for a packet is usually:

A cover letter explaining who you are, why you’re interested in them being your agent (being familiar with who else they represent is a good thing to highlight), and what story you’re selling them on.

A one-page synopsis of your manuscript.

A writing CV if you have one, or another relevant CV (i.e. if you're pitching a non-fiction book on being a nurse in the pandemic, attaching your nursing CV so they can see you're legitimate is important).

And usually either the first 50 pages or the first three chapters of your novel.

You generally email that to them, it goes into a slush pile, and they’ll read through it when they get the chance. I got a personalized rejection from one, which is pretty lovely (getting a personal rejection instead of one that’s clearly an email template from agents, editors and publishers might sound silly, but they’re actually pretty significant. These are people who get thousands of manuscripts a year, and taking the time to write a reply usually means your work resonated enough that they want to give you that encouragement even if the answer’s still no), and the other, I never heard back from, and my follow up email was ignored. Less lovely, haha, but unfortunately not uncommon.

So yeah, I took a bit of a break from seeking out an agent then, which I could do in Australia. One of the benefits of having a small industry here is that there’s a very limited number of agents (we’re talking literally about 25), which means submissions outside of agents and agencies are pretty normal. My understanding in the US and the UK is that you’re not really going to get a look-in without an agent, but in Australia you can submit direct, having an agent just makes it a lot easier.

So I didn’t have an agent when I actually got offered my book deal. I’d submit The Rabbits to a few different publishers, it had been rejected already by a couple and was still in the slush pile at one when I submit it to the Penguin Literary Prize. It won (yay!), Penguin offered me a book deal, and when the news broke in industry news, I was approached by six different agents, including, hilariously, the agent who said she didn’t like my writing style, haha.

I ended up talking to a few of them, but I went with a fairly new agent who I’d known through industry work, and I went with her because she had a really strong legal background which is what I was personally interested in.

Because that’s an important thing to consider too.

Why do you want an agent?

I actually knew that I didn’t really need an agent to sell my work. I’d been doing that for ten years already, I have over twenty short stories and a novella published, I’d sold my book, and I’d sold the rights to a screenplay already on my own, so the ability for an agent to sell work wasn’t so important to me. What was important to me was having someone who had a background in publishing law (my agent actually worked in the rights team in-house at a top five publisher before she became an agent), and understood rights management particularly in digital rights and international rights, because it makes my head spin, haha.

So that’s why I went with her!

But how do you find agents?

You didn’t ask this question exactly, but I think this is a very relevant question. There are databases of agents and publishers out there – Duotrope is probably the best known and I know people rave about it. One of the things that’s useful about it is that it’ll do a bit of a breakdown listing what genres the agent reads, if they’re currently open to unsolicited submissions, and their requirements. Take a look at Ginger Clark’s page for example (she’s not my agent – she’s American for starters, haha – but I have worked with her before and she’s a gem. Her most famous client is probably Ursula K. Le Guin, but she reps tons of other people too).

So yeah! Duotrope’s really useful. It has free info but also a paywall for certain things, and I personally find it kinda difficult to navigate?

I'd actually instead just recommend you take a look at writers you like and admire, especially ones who write similar genres to you, and just Google who their agent is. They all have websites, so they’re a lot easier to find these days than they were. 😊

How do you find job postings related to writing?

This is a tricky one, anon, as it depends on what sort of jobs you’re looking at. If you’re looking for copywriting opportunities, outlets for articles, short stories, poetry or essays, publishers who are posting open calls for manuscripts, or even cultural production jobs, those are all pretty different things. SO! I’m going to answer this one a little more broadly.

Writers Centres are your friends. Full disclaimer, I worked at one for five and a half years, and have been a member of Writers Victoria since I moved to Melbourne. They’re incredible resources for not only opportunities, but workshops, pitching, professional and creative development, community, networking and advice. They literally exist to help you achieve your goals.

- Writers Victoria maintains a free calendar of Opportunities and Competitions, but publishes more in their quarterly magazine which is a member perk. They’ll also often share job opportunities through their social media channels. I also still get the free e-news for Queensland Writers Centre and Writing NSW too because sometimes they share different stuff.

- I’ve heard Gotham Writers in New York is good too if you’re in America, but really I’d just suggest googling where you live and writers centre and seeing what comes up!

- Similarly festivals. I’ve worked at Brisbane Writers Festival and National Young Writers Festival here in Australia (the latter’s on online right now if you want to check out their free program!) Sign up to your local festival’s e-news, follow them on social media, they’ll usually share stuff.

- Speaking of! Social media! Haha. Twitter is often good for sharing jobs, competitions and opportunities, but I find it can be a bit of a cesspool too where people bombard the hashtags with self-promotion, so approach with caution. I find Facebook groups are way better for it personally, especially as there are a lot of specialized groups that are focused in certain or on certain writers. I know there’s lots for BIPOC writers for instance, I’m personally in a few and recommend:

Binders Full of WRITING JOBS

Binger Full of Copywriters

Style Binders – Writers in Fashion, Lifestyle and Beauty

Binder Full of Editors Seeking their Freelance Writers and Vice Versa

If you’re in Australia though, I’d especially recommend:

Women in Arts Management Collective (particularly if you’re interested in cultural production work)

Film and TV Networking Australia

Melbourne Women in Film

Writers Victoria Members

Australian Binder Full of Women Writers

Australian Arts Amidst COVID-19

Young Australian Writers

I think most of these are searchable, so just have a look, but also google your city or state + writer and see what pops up.

Otherwise, as much as it sucks to say it, a lot of the industry is who you know, so try and find ways to connect and meet with people and forge your own little community. Go to events – festivals, book launches, book clubs, join Facebook groups and in particular, if there are journals or magazines that are made in your local area, go to their launches and the events they run, no matter how big or small, and just chat to people there. As you get more established, you can be more discerning about what you go to, but when you're starting out, these are powderkegs of community and connection, and they breed suppport and, if you find the right people, you'll grow and develop together too.

Being a writer can often be pretty lonely, but being a part of supportive industry really makes all the difference, and as an old mentor of mine said – creative karma is real. You support the people coming up around you, and you’ll not only be creating a better, more inclusive and welcoming industry, but an industry that supports you right back. 😊

#i hope this is a help anon!#let me know if you have any other questions #learn from my gruelling experience haha #writing advice #writing #welcome to my ama

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elenatria · 3 years

Note

I saw in "Papillon 2017" Michael Socha (Mikhail). We didn't discuss about Michael so often. I think he's so underrated. He was on set amongst with Rami Malek and Charlie Hunnam. He also attended the Papillon premiere in Edinburgh. He is a big fan of the Papillon book and 1973 original film. He had an appearance at the beginning of the film. And his character's name is Julot.

Ok but THIS is why I love anon asks, it’s amazing what kinds of info and film recs people share with me. I watched “God’s own country” because of an anon ask, same with “Radioactive” and now “Papillon”. Can’t say I have regretted it.

For starters omg I had no idea that Chernobyl’s “Mikhail” was in “Papillon”...?

I also didn’t know Michael is a big fan of the Papillon book and the original film, or that he has Polish, English, Irish, and Italian ancestry. What a great coincidence though, he’s perhaps the only Chernobyl actor who shares a name with the character he played.

Talking of Rami Malek and Charlie Hunnam, guys, GUYS, if you want heartbreaking bromance and buckets of gay coding, “Papillon” is your film.

I’m gonna give a short description of most gay coding scenes so watch out because

SPOILERS.

Henri Charrière aka 'Papillon' ( Charlie Hunnam) is imprisoned for a crime he didn’t commit. He has the muscles and the know-how but he doesn’t have the money to bribe the right people and escape the hellish island they’re being sent to. But Louis Dega (Rami Malek) does.

Papillon is quick to offer Dega his “protection” in exchange for money without promising to take Dega with him, but Dega turns him down; he trusts that his wife and well-paid lawyer will get him out of there asap.

Soon enough Dega realizes that he’s all alone and he has to rely on Papillon in order to survive (the prisoners know about his money), so he accepts Papi’s offer to cover each other’s back. Naturally they sleep next to each other and this is what happens:

Papillon wakes up only to find Dega’s arm draped over his shoulder. The look on his face as he removes the arm that has wandered off shows how perplexed he is, and Dega wakes up looking quite embarrassed.

But no matter how alien a male arm feels around him, seconds later Papillon has no qualms “accidentally” touching Dega’s hand, while Dega himself seems quite agitated by the unexpected contact.

Later on there’s a bit of a misunderstanding concerning the money Dega has been hiding in a tube up his ass (butt plug, anyone?) but Papillon reassures him that he’d never rob him. So they’re openly flirting now.

To the point that everyone, and I mean everyone around them perceives them as a couple.

Soon enough we get the obligatory “attack in shower” scene. It seems Papillon is getting used to, or maybe just looking for reasons to touch Dega (even if just to warn him about the imminent danger) but don’t get your hopes up because Papillon is not ready for intimacy just yet.

After Papillon gets rid of their attackers and goes back to rinsing the mud off him, just as Dega grabs his shoulder, he slaps the hand away.

He is in a state of shock and he knows very well why he put his life on the line to save the ass of that bespectacled forger. It’s not just about the money anymore: the intimacy is growing thick and he just. Won’t. Have it.

Dega now knows that he won’t survive prison without Papillon, that nobody’s waiting for him back home, and that he wants to follow Papillon no matter where he goes. Papillon is still in denial though. To him Dega is dead weight, or maybe an unnecessary temptation.

But Dega knows better.

At some point a guard beats Dega and lo and behold, it’s Papillon to the rescue - again. He gets two years in isolation for attacking that guard, and all for the sake of his precious Dega.

Dega doesn’t forget. He even pays people to sneak coconuts into Papillon’s cell so as to keep his spirit and energy up.

And Papillon knows it’s Dega. He just knows. He mutters his name gratefully, like a prayer.

Two years in isolation have passed and Papillon is taken back. Dega has earned himself a higher place among prisoners (the head of the prison seems to have a soft spot for him so who knows what favours Dega had to do to get there). As soon as he realizes his friend is back he goes to the infirmary, desperately clutching at Papi’s unresponsive hand, fumbling with the sleeve’s fabric until he touches naked skin, begging Papillon for forgiveness. He was the reason why Papi ended up in isolation after all.

Papillon is presumed insane and unresponsive so Dega opens up about his wife abandoning him.

But then “sleeping beauty” magically wakes up.

That line. Who needs women, amirite?

Dega is mad with joy to have his friend back while Papillon is already planning his escape. He tells Dega he’ll need a boat and a couple of other prisoners to help him. And then this happens.

The look of surprise and pure joy in Papillon’s eyes as he realizes that his friend wants to come with him, I mean.

“Us.”

As the film proceeds, there’s a lot of touching between them.

They survive their sinking boat, thinking they found heaven on earth, but just as Papillon decides to go back to France and leave Dega behind, he realizes they have been betrayed and the prison guards are after them - again. Instead of running away, he goes back to warn Dega and they both get captured.

For that, Papillon gets another five years in isolation. When he’s allowed to see people again, Dega finds him and takes him to that part of the prison that he calls home. As a forger and an artist, he seems to have spent the last five years drawing on the walls of his “home” and how do you know, he even drew a huge Papillon mural on the ceiling. Makes you wonder why.

In the end, Papillon wants to try to escape one more time but Dega knows already he won’t be able to follow him, he can’t swim due to his broken leg plus he’s too institutionalized now to follow the man he loves. Without telling Papillon a single word about his “defection” he rolls one of his butterfly sketches and shoves it into a bottle, secretly tucking it among the things Papillon will take on his journey to freedom. A thing to remember him by.

When the time comes, Dega confesses that he won’t follow Papillon - and breaks his heart.

This is goodbye. This was always goodbye.

Years after his escape, Henri ‘Papillon’ Charrière takes his memoirs to a French publishing house. He hasn’t forgotten a single thing and Dega’s butterfly is there to prove it. He’s filled with nostalgia as he fans out his fingers over it protectively.

He mentions a wife but the last thing we see is the butterfly that was painted on a piece of prison clothes years ago. It’s in the publisher’s hands now.

“It’s the story of a lot of men.”

Thank you, anon, for telling me about this film.

It was quite a journey.

#papillon #Michael Socha #charlie hunnam #rami malek #louis dega #henri charrière #bromance #gay coding #prison #chernobyl #mikhail #spoilers

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here. My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that. My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it - I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

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clumsyclifford · 4 years

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PS, any chance I could convince you to write some fluff to balance the sad bits you've been writing? I'm worried about the consecutive angst/emo/TW stuff you've created. (Are you okay? do you need someone to be there with you?) IF and only if you feel inspired enough, maybe a "surprise we got married in the middle of quarantine" Lashton fic where no - not even Malum - knew except maybe like 2 random witnesses? -🕷

spidey anon, pat yourself on the fucking back for somehow getting me to write fluff. really can’t explain that with anything except that it is probably affected by the sheer joy i feel from listening to music with cam for seven hours straight <3 anyway. this isn’t Exactly what you said but it’s not, like, NOT what you said and i was gonna write more but then i thought i’d just never finish it and i felt like you deserved something nice so i am just going to give it to you as it is hope you enjoy

Luke finally learns why Ashton’s been restless all week when he pulls out the ring.

“No,” he says immediately, before Ashton can even open his mouth. A look of confused distress appears on Ashton’s face. “I mean, not no. Just, like, no, you aren’t proposing to me now.”

“I one hundred percent am,” Ashton says, sounding exasperated and fond. “Shut up, don’t act like you weren’t expecting it.”

“I wasn’t expecting it!” That’s mostly true. Although it doesn’t mean Luke hadn’t been hoping. “But I don’t want you to propose in quarantine, how un-romantic is that? I can’t think of anything less romantic.”

“Nothing? At all?” Ashton narrows his eyes. “I could have proposed while you were in the bathroom. Just stood outside the door and gone hey, Luke, marry me?”

Despite himself, a thrill runs down Luke’s spine at the words. “Fine,” Luke says. “That would have been less romantic, but only barely. Come on, Ashton, it’s not like being engaged is going to change anything about our situation. We’re stuck at home together anyway.”

“Yeah, but,” Ashton says, “and hear me out on this one: I’ll get to call you my fiancé.”

Luke blushes. “That’s really nothing.”

“You won’t be saying that when I’m calling you fiancé,” Ashton says smugly. “Now if I could please get on with it.”

Luke sighs. “I could always say no.”

“Then you’ll say no,” Ashton says, shrugging. “And I’ll just keep asking.”

Of course he will. Ashton’s nothing if not persistent. To a fault, some might say.

“Alright then,” Luke says, trying to sound as defeated as possible to mask the giddy feeling filling his gut. “Go on.”

Even before Ashton starts talking, Luke knows that in no universe would he ever, ever, ever be idiotic enough to refuse a marriage proposal from Ashton Irwin. And he really wouldn’t even want to.

“Alright, well,” Ashton says, and Luke notices that his knuckles are white from holding the small velvet box, and his free hand is shaking. The steadiest grip of anyone Luke’s ever known, and Ashton’s hands are shaking. It hits Luke, the enormity of this question. “First of all, I want to say that I love you. I’ll love you if you say yes. I’ll love you if you say no. I’ll love you if you break up with me and go fall in love with — with Michael.” Luke snorts. “I mean it, Luke, I really will. Like, you’re it for me. I know that’s what everyone says, but you really are. I can’t even imagine — quarantine without you. Life without you.”

“Grim,” Luke says under his breath, and Ashton laughs nervously.

“Yeah,” he says. “Grim as fuck. I’m not going to waste all my words on this, because — well, for starters because you just said you’re planning to say no, so I’ll save my really mushy romantic stuff for when I know you’ll say yes.” Luke huffs an unsteady laugh. Ashton’s hand is still shaking, and Luke reaches unthinkingly across the table and clamps it between his own palms. Ashton gives him a grateful smile. “But also because you already know it. I don’t think I need to remind you of all the reasons I love you. I will if you ask, though,” he adds, and Luke smiles. “But mostly I think the beauty of a proposal is that it’s not as much about what we have been, but what we will be. We’ve both been here for our whole relationship. You know what’s happened. I don’t need to remind you. I’m just asking if — if you want to see what it can become. What more we can be.” He takes a deep breath, and Luke squeezes his hand. “So, Luke. Cards on the table. Will you marry me?”

And it’s cute that Ashton phrases it as a question, as if there could ever be any more than one answer. Luke swallows thickly. “Of course I’ll marry you.”

“Wait,” Ashton says. “Really?”

“Of fucking course really.” Luke comes around the table without releasing his grip on Ashton’s hand. “God, stop being nervous, Ashton, I’d love to marry you, I’ll marry you literally tomorrow if you want.”

“You were going to say no,” Ashton says, sounding dazed. “What — I really thought you were serious about that.”

“Ashton,” Luke says, falling into a kneel so he can be eye level with Ashton. “I am so ridiculously in love with you I think the only thing that could stop me from wanting to marry you would be actual death. And even then, I’m pretty sure my ghost would haunt you until we figured out necromancy.”

Ashton laughs; Luke recognizes the way his shoulders fall a bit, sees the tension drain from his posture, the stress evaporate from between his brows. “Oh, the fucking ring,” he remembers, and flips the box open, pressing it into Luke’s hand. Luke gazes down at the silver ring with a growing feeling of anticipation, something akin to impatience, if it weren’t accompanied by such elation.

“It’s so pretty,” he murmurs. “Understated. Perfect.”

“I thought you’d prefer understated,” Ashton says, pink-cheeked.

Luke draws Ashton into a kiss, wondering if he can somehow diffuse the warmth pooling in his chest before it grows too hot and burns him. Ashton twists his fingers into Luke’s hair, and they stay that way until Luke’s knees start to feel sore from the tile and he has to pull back.

“I’d marry you tomorrow,” Luke repeats, breathless, and this time means it seriously. “Let’s just get fucking married, Ashton.”

“That’s the idea of the proposal,” Ashton says, freeing his hand from Luke’s hair but resting it instead on Luke’s shoulder, fingertips drumming against the back of his neck. “We can’t get married tomorrow. As much as I would love to.”

“Why not?” Luke challenges. “We don’t know when the next time we’ll be able to do a proper wedding ceremony will be. This pandemic could last another year, another two. I don’t want to wait a year to be married to you. I don’t want to wait a month, Ashton.”

“You’ve really flipped on this,” Ashton says. “Luke, our parents will kill us. Our bandmates will kill us.”

“Whatever,” Luke says. Adrenaline is racing through his veins, and love for Ashton, although if he’s honest with himself all of his blood is tinged with love for Ashton anyway, has been for years. Ashton is what keeps his heart beating. When he bleeds, it’s all love. “We can have a ceremony later, when it’s safe, I just want to be married now. My husband, Ashton Irwin. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“My husband Luke,” Ashton breathes, and Luke can see the moment he succumbs to the idea. A dry smile creeps across Ashton’s face, and he drops his forehead against Luke’s. “Luke Hemmings, my husband. God. Okay. Fine. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

There’s no stopping the grin that stretches Luke’s mouth ear-to-ear, nor the way a furious stampede of cows/horses suddenly makes itself at home in his stomach. “Getting married tomorrow!” he whisper-chants. “Mikey and Cal are going to kill us!”

“Lauren and Harry will end my life,” Ashton adds, mirroring Luke’s smile. “Your mum will have my head.”

“Oh, she will,” Luke says, nodding in agreement. “But I’ll just go, hey, mum, can you not speak to my husband that way?”

“Jesus,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That sounds so fucking good.”

Luke chews on the inside of his lip. “Might keep using it, then,” he says. “If you ask nicely.”

Ashton shakes his head, with obvious difficulty. “Get up, you absolute menace, we need to eat dinner still.”

“Fine,” Luke says. “After dinner, then.” He smirks as he pushes himself to his feet, and Ashton swallows.

“Behave,” he says sternly.

“I’m behaving!” Luke protests. “Why can’t I try and seduce my own husband-to-be?”

“Because we are having dinner,” Ashton says, rolling his eyes and pushing his chair out to retrieve their food from where it’s warming in the oven. “You can seduce me after.”

That’s a pretty fair deal, but Luke still pouts for another moment, because he has a reputation to uphold. “Hey,” he says, settling into his chair as Ashton brings the food out. “Does this make you the housewife? I feel like you do most of the cooking and cleaning.”

“I’m pretty sure that makes you the trophy husband,” Ashton returns, taking his own seat.

Luke snickers. “I can deal with that.” There are much worse things to be than Ashton Irwin’s trophy husband. That’s already a million miles above boyfriend. And frankly, any way Luke gets to be Ashton’s husband is perfect for him.

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