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dykepuffs · 4 months

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How Do I Make My Fictional Gypsies Not Racist?

(Or, "You can't, sorry, but…")

You want to include some Gypsies in your fantasy setting. Or, you need someone for your main characters to meet, who is an outsider in the eyes of the locals, but who already lives here. Or you need a culture in conflict with your settled people, or who have just arrived out of nowhere. Or, you just like the idea of campfires in the forest and voices raised in song. And you’re about to step straight into a muckpile of cliches and, accidentally, write something racist.

(In this, I am mostly using Gypsy as an endonym of Romany people, who are a subset of the Romani people, alongside Roma, Sinti, Gitano, Romanisael, Kale, etc, but also in the theory of "Gypsying" as proposed by Lex and Percy H, where Romani people are treated with a particular mix of orientalism, criminalisation, racialisation, and othering, that creates "The Gypsy" out of both nomadic peoples as a whole and people with Romani heritage and racialised physical features, languages, and cultural markers)

Enough of my friends play TTRPGs or write fantasy stories that this question comes up a lot - They mention Dungeons and Dragons’ Curse Of Strahd, World Of Darkness’s Gypsies, World Of Darkness’s Ravnos, World of Darkness’s Silent Striders… And they roll their eyes and say “These are all terrible! But how can I do it, you know, without it being racist?”

And their eyes are big and sad and ever so hopeful that I will tell them the secret of how to take the Roma of the real world and place them in a fictional one, whilst both appealing to gorjer stereotypes of Gypsies and not adding to the weight of stereotyping that already crushes us. So, disappointingly, there is no secret.

Gypsies, like every other real-world culture, exist as we do today because of interactions with cultures and geography around us: The living waggon, probably the archetypal thing which gorjer writers want to include in their portrayals of nomads, is a relatively modern invention - Most likely French, and adopted from French Showmen by Romanies, who brought it to Britain. So already, that’s a tradition that only spans a small amount of the time that Gypsies have existed, and only a small number of the full breadth of Romani ways of living. But the reasons that the waggon is what it is are based on the real world - The wheels are tall and iron-rimmed, because although you expect to travel on cobbled, tarmac, or packed-earth roads and for comparatively short distances, it wasn’t rare to have to ford a river in Britain in the late nineteenth century, on country roads. They were drawn by a single horse, and the shape of that horse was determined by a mixture of local breeds - Welsh cobs, fell ponies, various draft breeds - as well as by the aesthetic tastes of the breeders. The stove inside is on the left, so that as you move down a British road, the chimney sticks up into the part where there will be the least overhanging branches, to reduce the chance of hitting it.

So taking a fictional setting that looks like (for example) thirteenth century China (with dragons), and placing a nineteenth century Romanichal family in it will inevitably result in some racist assumptions being made, as the answer to “Why does this culture do this?” becomes “They just do it because I want them to” rather than having a consistent internal logic.

Some stereotypes will always follow nomads - They appear in different forms in different cultures, but they always arise from the settled people's same fears: That the nomads don't share their values, and are fundamentally strangers. Common ones are that we have a secret language to fool outsiders with, that we steal children and disguise them as our own, that our sexual morals are shocking (This one has flipped in the last half century - From the Gypsy Lore Society's talk of the lascivious Romni seductress who will lie with a strange man for a night after a 'gypsy wedding', to today's frenzied talk of 'grabbing' and sexually-conservative early marriages to ensure virginity), that we are supernatural in some way, and that we are more like animals than humans. These are tropes where if you want to address them, you will have to address them as libels - there is no way to casually write a baby-stealing, magical succubus nomad without it backfiring onto real life Roma. (The kind of person who has the skills to write these tropes well, is not the kind of person who is reading this guide.)

It’s too easy to say a list of prescriptive “Do nots”, which might stop you from making the most common pitfalls, but which can end up with your nomads being slightly flat as you dance around the topics that you’re trying to avoid, rather than being a rich culture that feels real in your world.

So, here are some questions to ask, to create your nomadic people, so that they will have a distinctive culture of their own that may (or may not) look anything like real-world Romani people: These aren't the only questions, but they're good starting points to think about before you make anything concrete, and they will hopefully inspire you to ask MORE questions.

First - Why are they nomadic? Nobody moves just to feel the wind in their hair and see a new horizon every morning, no matter what the inspirational poster says. Are they transhumant herders who pay a small rent to graze their flock on the local lord’s land? Are they following migratory herds across common land, being moved on by the cycle of the seasons and the movement of their animals? Are they seasonal workers who follow man-made cycles of labour: Harvests, fairs, religious festivals? Are they refugees fleeing a recent conflict, who will pass through this area and never return? Are they on a regular pilgrimage? Do they travel within the same area predictably, or is their movement governed by something that is hard to predict? How do they see their own movements - Do they think of themselves as being pushed along by some external force, or as choosing to travel? Will they work for and with outsiders, either as employees or as partners, or do they aim to be fully self-sufficient? What other jobs do they do - Their whole society won’t all be involved in one industry, what do their children, elderly, disabled people do with their time, and is it “work”?

If they are totally isolationist - How do they produce the things which need a complex supply chain or large facilities to make? How do they view artefacts from outsiders which come into their possession - Things which have been made with technology that they can’t produce for themselves? (This doesn’t need to be anything about quality of goods, only about complexity - A violin can be made by one artisan working with hand tools, wood, gut and shellac, but an accordion needs presses to make reeds, metal lathes to make screws, complex organic chemistry to make celluloid lacquer, vulcanised rubber, and a thousand other components)

How do they feel about outsiders? How do they buy and sell to outsiders? If it’s seen as taboo, do they do it anyway? Do they speak the same language as the nearby settled people (With what kind of fluency, or bilingualism, or dialect)? Do they intermarry, and how is that viewed when it happens? What stories does this culture tell about why they are a separate people to the nearby settled people? Are those stories true? Do they have a notional “homeland” and do they intend to go there? If so, is it a real place?

What gorjers think of as classic "Gipsy music" is a product of our real-world situation. Guitar from Spain, accordions from the Soviet Union (Which needed modern machining and factories to produce and make accessible to people who weren't rich- and which were in turn encouraged by Soviet authorities preferring the standardised and modern accordion to the folk traditions of the indigenous peoples within the bloc), brass from Western classical traditions, via Balkan folk music, influences from klezmer and jazz and bhangra and polka and our own music traditions (And we influence them too). What are your people's musical influences? Do they make their own instruments or buy them from settled people? How many musical traditions do they have, and what are they all for (Weddings, funerals, storytelling, campfire songs, entertainment...)? Do they have professional musicians, and if so, how do those musicians earn money? Are instrument makers professionals, or do they use improvised and easy-to-make instruments like willow whistles, spoons, washtubs, etc? (Of course the answer can be "A bit of both")

If you're thinking about jobs - How do they work? Are they employed by settled people (How do they feel about them?) Are they self employed but providing services/goods to the settled people? Are they mostly avoidant of settled people other than to buy things that they can't produce themselves? Are they totally isolationist? Is their work mostly subsistence, or do they create a surplus to sell to outsiders? How do they interact with other workers nearby? Who works, and how- Are there 'family businesses', apprentices, children with part time work? Is it considered 'a job' or just part of their way of life? How do they educate their children, and is that considered 'work'? How old are children when they are considered adult, and what markers confer adulthood? What is considered a rite of passage?

When they travel, how do they do it? Do they share ownership of beasts of burden, or each individually have "their horse"? Do families stick together or try to spread out? How does a child begin to live apart from their family, or start their own family? Are their dwellings something that they take with them, or do they find places to stay or build temporary shelter with disposable material? Who shares a dwelling and why? What do they do for privacy, and what do they think privacy is for?

If you're thinking about food - Do they hunt? Herd? Forage? Buy or trade from settled people? Do they travel between places where they've sown crops or managed wildstock in previous years, so that when they arrive there is food already seeded in the landscape? How do they feel about buying food from settled people, and is that common? If it's frowned upon - How much do people do it anyway? How do they preserve food for winter? How much food do they carry with them, compared to how much they plan to buy or forage at their destinations? How is food shared- Communal stores, personal ownership?

Why are they a "separate people" to the settled people? What is their creation myth? Why do they believe that they are nomadic and the other people are settled, and is it correct? Do they look different? Are there legal restrictions on them settling? Are there legal restrictions on them intermixing? Are there cultural reasons why they are a separate people? Where did those reasons come from? How long have they been travelling? How long do they think they've been travelling? Where did they come from? Do they travel mostly within one area and return to the same sites predictably, or are they going to move on again soon and never come back?

And then within that - What about the members of their society who are "unusual" in some way: How does their society treat disabled people? (are they considered disabled, do they have that distinction and how is it applied?) How does their society treat LGBT+ people? What happens to someone who doesn't get married and has no children? What happens to someone who 'leaves'? What happens to young widows and widowers? What happens if someone just 'can't fit in'? What happens to someone who is adopted or married in? What happens to people who are mixed race, and in a fantasy setting to people who are mixed species? What is taboo to them and what will they find shocking if they leave? What is society's attitude to 'difference' of various kinds?

Basically, if you build your nomads from the ground-up, rather than starting from the idea of "I want Gypsies/Buryats/Berbers/Minceiri but with the numbers filed off and not offensive" you can end up with a rich, unique nomadic culture who make sense in your world and don't end up making a rod for the back of real-world cultures.

#worldbuilding #world building #fantasy races #racism in fiction #nomads #romani stuff

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chrollohearttags · 4 months

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snooze • portgas d. ace

your boyfriend can’t sleep unless you’re by his side..for many reasons.

sleepy/sonmo sex, hints of free use, modern au, black fem reader, early morning quickie, creampie, nipple play, teasing, him whimpering a lot :(, just some domestic, soft smut, pet names used

word count: 2.0K

📝: as you all can see, my brainrot for this man has become so god awful, I fear it will take a shovel to dig me out of these trenches. But I love it here! (also, the title is not based off of the song by any means.)

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2:15AM…

night had long fell cast over the sky..faint inklings of stars littered the black backdrop as tiny white dots. The vibrant moon illuminating the entirety of the sleepless city as the daily bustle of blaring car horns and menial chatter has slowed to the sounds of a few cars either heading home or starting the day early. Through the window of the third story apartment where you resided..shined a single beam of light on two sleeping bodies. Entangled in the warmth of the sheets on the chilly winter night..underneath, limbs intertwined as you enjoyed the bliss of sweet slumber..

“Mmmph..”

faint mumbles arose as they vibrated against the crook of your neck. Your boyfriend’s face was nuzzled between the crevice of your neck as he shuffled around in his sleep. His muscular, inked up forearms coiled around your waist with his hands placed to your abdomen; holding you close to him. Nowhere else in the world that either of you would rather have been..it was paradise, an absolute dream..and for your doting, sweet man..he was enjoying it quite a bit! The friction of his lower half rubbing against your backside; gently rutting his hips into your plump flesh as to not ruffle too much but make you subtly aware of his intentions. Those hands eventually roamed from your waist and tummy to the top of your body, resting idly on your breasts. He seemed restless, for a better lack of terms. Although he probably slept more than the average person due to his narcolepsy, Ace did have his weaknesses. For example, he couldn’t be at peace unless you were plastered to his side. You were his comfort, his peace and he couldn’t function unless you were right there. But alas, it wasn’t the only reason he enjoyed lying next to you every night..it definitely had its other perks. Just like at that moment, where he was toiling with the lace on your short silk teddy. The one that barely even covered your ass as you walked away..the one that had his mind straying to less than savory thoughts when you were awake. It couldn’t be helped..your body was an absolute work of art that he could admire for hours on end and never grow tired. Neither one of your eyes were open; still far too exhausted to do so, but he’d slowly feel you up as you laid there quietly. Running his fingertips along the delicate portions of your skin, still muttering and eventually, leaving gentle pecks on your shoulder blade. “Baby…” the only thing he managed to get out before muttering against your neck once more.

Meanwhile, you could still feel his pelvis bumping against you..naturally, you didn't hesitate to meet him halfway. It was obvious that neither of you were going to truly be able to rest until you achieved your mutual goal. Because truth be told, when you couldn’t doze off the way you wanted or your body wanted craved more than just sleep to replenish it, there was only one way to quell that urge:

“..need you so bad..”

hell, it was all the more fun when you pretended to be fully asleep..giving him full fledged permission to use your body when he saw fit. Taking claim to it when he was ready. Sometimes, you loved it when he woke you up with his cock nestled deeply inside of you or vice versa, when your pretty little lips, wrapped around his shaft, drove him out of slumber. It was easy to surmise that he was going to take advantage of said consent..made things all the more sexier. Still mumbling, you’d begin to whine very faintly as you felt the covering of your top be pulled down and your nipples exposed to the cool air. They were erect and sensitive to the touch. Practically writhing each time he so much as even brushed them. By this time, you were also wiggling your hips and bogging yourself onto his crotch. It was clear that things were about to intensify and neither of you wanted to put a halt to this little charade either.

2:30AM…

“..you’re so wet, baby..this all f’r me?’ His words seem to have fallen on deaf ears but he could tell by your physical reaction, that wasn’t the case..you were clutching the sheets far too tight for someone that couldn’t feel a thing. You were only becoming more and more aroused by the minute..that silky slick coating his fingertips. Meanwhile, you could feel his bulge pressing against your cheeks..so swollen, it were as if he’d burst any minute. “Don’t be shy, you can tell me..” a faint chuckle rising among his deep voice, rattling off whilst he held you close. This man had talked you through many orgasms with that heavy tone of his and he knew how much you loved when he spoke to you all quietly like this. “That’s okay..I know what you need..” he was very much vocal and yet, he was still seemingly asleep. His eyes still shut!..but it wouldn’t remain that way for long because as Ace reached down to tug at his waistband, removing his cock from its confines, (y/n) very subtly hoisted your leg, assuring him that you wanted this just as badly..taking the hint, he’d clutch your waist and pull you towards him, smacking that tip to that warm, juicy slit of yours. Almost as if his senses were incredibly heightened..his mind constructing a roadmap of your beautiful body and no vision was needed. A giant smirk lay plastered across his face. He couldn’t wait to be inside of you.. “Let me have you, please..fuck..” that once deep voice becoming desperate and whimpering in a high pitched wail; that mushroom tip aching and leaking with the absolute need to be fill your hole. To take claim of your special spot only the way he knew how.. “..shit..” “..mmph!” Simultaneously reactions from each of you. It seemed that you could no longer maintain your silent charade and he could no longer fight those insatiable urges..and both of you were ready to fuck until your bodies truly tired out beyond repair. The kind that would undoubtedly put you right back to sleep..

2:40AM

sounds of clashing flesh ricocheted around the room, the clapping noises of his pelvis colliding with your heavy asscheeks as he pounded into you. A cusped hand stationed around your throat to keep you reigned in when you began to pull away from the strokes he was feeding your greedy cunt. Unable to quell his whiny cries because of the sensation. He’d never felt anything like it! So warm and silky..it was a miracle he hadn’t gotten you pregnant yet..constantly finding it hard to pull out once he was inside of you. Rutting into you like a pathetic pup rutting his pillow. A sheath of wetness forming from the constant thrusting..and his earlier teasing. “Oh fuck, you’re so tight, baby..pussy’s so fucking good..” the sweet nothings rattled off into your ear with his dick nestled deep between your folds.. “..shit! Right there..so good..” heavy huffs breathing down your neck whilst he persisted. Pulling you even closer, Ace tilted your head back slightly to lace your jawline and throat with sloppy pecks. It was absolute bliss if you’ve ever felt it. “I love you..love you so fucking much, baby. Thank you for letting me wake you up like this..” a faint chuckle arising from between his moans. It was blatantly clear to see that he was enjoying this little early morning rendezvous more than you could imagine. “I love you—oh fuck!…’s too much..'' crying out with your hand smacking the mattress and clutching the sheets. Your legs shook violently and all you could do was withstand the sensation of that thick, throbbing cock bottoming out inside of you. Sometimes, it was a miracle if you could fit it all..he was so lengthy as well and you’d oftentimes find yourself begging him to take some out around the five inch mark. “Aw, baby..you’re so small. Just makes stretching you out all the more fun..” referencing not your body type, but rather that pretty pussy..regardless of how many times you two had sex, you still managed to wrap around and squeeze him to no end. Cream slathered all down the entrance and he would lean up to examine the mess, along with the ripple of your thick ass via the moonlight..

2:48AM

“F-fuck..gonna come, daddy..please!”

“Ooh, I love when you call me that..are you gonna let go f’r me, sweetheart?”

Still lying on your side with your leg hoisted high, he’d continue going..even teasing your clit to add to the euphoric feeling. Both of your eyes had peeled wide open and there was no halting this passionate round of love making. The name causes a throbbing sensation to rattle off inside of you as his cock twitches yet again.

“So let me see that pretty face when you do, baby. Come on, let it out—“ amid the resuming of his deep strokes, Ace would coddle your face in his palm, sweet talking you through that impending orgasm. Spinning your face around to meet his own. He was always such a kind and attentive lover. Making certain that you got yours long before his own. His true satisfaction lies in seeing you grip the sheets and call out his name. It didn’t take long before he was granted his wish and you were heaving as that orgasm came barreling out of that entrance and splattering his thighs as he fucked it out of you slowly. Emitting gentle streams with each thrust until you couldn’t spill another drop.

“Aww, good girl..good girl..you’re squirting. So fucking wet..I love it.”

you’d find yourself caught in another kiss shortly thereafter; passionately and slowly…but that wasn’t the end of this. He needed to keep going until he had nothing else left to offer..until you were filled to the brim with every last drop of him. “Nnnngh!..” “I know, pretty..I know..but you’re doing such a good job..I don’t wanna stop.” Growling and laughing in your ear as his strokes became a lot rougher and more sporadic. He was nearing his peak. That much was evident by the way his nails dug into the flesh of your hip. Met with the recoil of your thick ass each time. You were squeezing him so tight, he could barely withstand it. So with a couple more sharp, pounding thrusts, you’d find your boyfriend clutching onto your skin and drilling until you felt it all come to an abrupt halt.. “f..fuck!..hold still, baby. I’m so close—“ a mere few seconds later, you’d feel his movements cease but those hot, thick ropes of cum pouring into your womb. Filling you up with every ounce of his seed until he couldn’t go any further. Whimpering and crying out for you in the process. Begging you to let him breed you..and once he finished, Ace would remain inside of that tight cunt, stroking the side of your face and marking your temple with light kisses.

“That was perfect, sweetheart..”

“Yeah..thank you, baby..”

3:00AM

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total-dxmure · 5 months

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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER TWO

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: this chapter is just plot/character building. next chapter we're getting to the good stuff)

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

The old farm truck rocked back and forth as you made your way up the all-too familiar dirt path, heading in the direction of the greenhouses. You’d already let the hens out to graze and feed and the last thing you had to do before dropping today’s produce off was check on the nurseries.

Johnny Cash’s southern twang hummed gently over the speakers, your well worn-in cassette tape having been the first thing you reached for this morning. The sun had risen just a few hours ago, and after a few cups of much needed coffee you were ready to go.

The caffeine had done the lord's work, having cleared your brain of any anxious background noise. You could actually function when you had tasks at hand. The second you slowed down though… well, that was a different story. You were trying hard not to imagine Abby sitting beside you in the beat-to-hell red pickup, her blonde braid tossed over her shoulder as she stuck her arm out of the window. You used to joke about her being part dog, what with her loving the wind on her face so much. You missed being able to reach out and wrap a stray strand of blonde hair around your finger, only giving it a soft tug when those blue eyes of hers looked at you with a little too much heat behind them.

So instead of looking at the empty passenger seat you busied yourself with turning up the volume, country music crackling over the shot, old speakers. You all but jumped out of the car the second you put the car in park, ready to get your hands dirty and your mind preoccupied.

You couldn’t remember how many times the two of you had snuck off to the greenhouse when your mother had gotten a little too overbearing back when she still lived in the main house with you. There wasn’t a single surface in the old rickety building that abby hadn’t fucked you on or vice versa.

You walked along the rows and rows of seedlings, looking for any sign of water rot or bug infestations. Everything was perfect, every stem and leaf a vibrant green. Tomatoes, all different kinds of summer squash, and beans of every variety; you had the gift of a green thumb. Your father was more than happy to sign his company over to you right before he passed. All five acres of his property belonged to you now, and with that every bit of responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. You used to resent the fact that you were so young and in charge of so much. Now you were thankful for the constant work. Distractions. You hated seeing your dad’s life work being summed up as a mere distraction, but it was the only thing that got you out of bed in the morning.

Everyone in the family knew that your dad had wanted a boy when your mother’s pregnancy was first announced. It was a family business, the job having been passed down to him by his own father. Still, he had been ecstatic to show you the ropes. Rather than taking up dance or art like most other little girls your age, you spent your free time elbow deep in mud. You wore the bows and fussed over getting new outfits, but overalls were your daily uniform.

You wore a pair even today, your work boots tightly fastened to ward away any unwanted pecks from overprotective mother hens. Today was bound to be monotonous, as it always was. All you had to do was repot a few strawberry plants. Maybe if you were lucky a goat would find a hole in the gate and escape. At least it would give you something to worry about that wasn’t Abby related.

You slunk over towards the sinks, pumping soap into your dirt covered palm to wash off the dirt. You rubbed your hands together to begin lathering but froze when you realized your right hand felt bare. You brushed your thumb against your middle finger only to realize that it was just as you had feared.

Your ring. It wasn’t there.

White hot dread locked your limbs as you turned your hand over, the dainty opal missing from your middle finger. You blinked, hoping that you were just seeing things. You didn’t even turn off the sinks before racing back over to the repotting table, as if the promise ring had grown legs and would escape you. Your eyes frantically searched the table, pain shooting through your knees as you dropped down on all fours, pushing dirt and leaves aside to get a better vantage point. Nothing. It wasn’t there.

“Oh god. No! No, no, no.” You all but screamed, eyes filling with tears as you pulled yourself off.

You broke out into a nervous sweat, the blood rushing from your head. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening right now.

You didn’t care if you killed the plants, you ripped the strawberries up by their stems, shaking their roots out as you searched their new pots.

Every. Single. One.

Empty.

Abby had given you that ring just before her last deployment, promising that she would be giving you the real thing once she got back. Of course, she never did. It was single handedly the most important piece of jewelry that you had ever owned, even above your grandmother’s pearls and engagement ring. How could you be so reckless? Why hadn’t you thought to leave it in the car?

“Stupid! I’m so fucking stupid!” You screamed, tossing a clay pot on the ground in a fit of anger. It shattered behind you, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.

You spent an hour sifting through dirt and untangling roots before you finally realized that it was a lost cause. The ring was gone. You’d wrecked the entire greenhouse in your frantic search and the strawberries were just as you expected: dead.

You slammed the door shut behind you, the old window panes shaking with the force. You had barely thrown yourself into the pickup before your body was wracked with full body sobs. White knuckling the steering wheel you leaned your head forward, completely unbothered as the horn blared.

How could you lose something so precious to you? It had been the last gift that you had ever received from Abby. The last. There was no possible way to replace something that was that special to you. Her hands had touched that ring. She’d been nervous to give it to you in the first place, anxious that two years hadn’t been enough time to give you something that sentimental. It was the meaning behind it that had you clutching at your chest, your fingernails digging into your shirt as if you could rip your heart straight out from between your ribs.

She was going to replace that ring once she got back. Give you the “real deal” once she was back home and able to have a ceremony.

But there would never be a ceremony. Never another ring. Never another Abby.

Never. Never. Never.

It felt like you were losing a piece of her, and with that came the revelation- the same one that you’ve already had a thousand times- that she was really gone. There would be no do-overs; no alternate universes where the two of you could be together. The reality of your situation sat heavy in your throat, clogging your airway.

The loss of Abby had eclipsed your heart completely, and darkness was all that was left.

You stayed in the car until your eyes had practically swelled shut and there were no more tears to shed.

The car ride back to her childhood home was completely silent, the only sound being the engine of Joel’s shiny new truck. She did her best to compliment him on the new purchase, but Ellie was sure that she didn’t sound even half as enthusiastic as she had hoped she would. She didn’t feel like being an actress today. Not when he already knew how bad she was doing. Joel had taken one look at her as she got off of the plane and frowned, grabbing her bags only after giving her a bone shattering side hug.

“Well I missed ya,” He finally spoke, causing her to jump in surprise. The sound of his baritone voice soothed her nerves over though. “I’ve really missed you annoyin’ the hell outta me at all hours of the day.”

Ellie cracked a small smile at that, leaning her head into the plush leather seat. The last time she saw Joel was when she had first been transferred to the Kindred Hospital back in Chicago, which was where she had rotted away for a full week. Her eye and face healed up quickly but her back was a different story. She’d been burned badly and had all of the nasty scars to prove it. He had stayed by her bedside for the entire week and had helped her to readjust to being back home in her apartment. The nearly debilitating pain was the only thing that had distracted her from the gravity of her situation back then.

Her therapist said it was normal to disassociate for long periods of time when the body and mind are put under so much stress. Ellie still felt like Ellie back then, but it was only because she didn’t have any real grasp on reality. It was just a few days after Joel left that she finally snapped out of it. She was one of the only five that survived. She was told that landmines were the cause of so many deaths in Iraq.

“It happens all the time out there. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t want her unit to just be another statistic. They weren’t just numbers. They were people who had loved ones at home. Loved ones that they had to leave for months and months on end. She couldn’t help but shoulder all of the blame. Ellie was the one that had led them out there in the first place. It was her fault, so why hadn’t she died right along with them? She would have considered herself lucky if she had lost her life right along with them. These were the people that she saw daily. Ellie had developed deep friendships with every member of her unit. She knew the details of all of their lives- the names of their children and loved ones back at home, what they wanted to do with their lives once they were dismissed- how could she not feel like someone had ripped her soul to shreds? How could she not constantly remind herself, every second of every goddamn day, that she was the reason.

She was a ghost. A mere shell of the person that she once was and she had no one to blame but herself.

“I didn’t know you liked me being annoying so much,” Still, she turned to Joel and cracked him a small smile. It was more for his sake and less for hers though. “I’ll make sure to turn it up a notch while I’m here.”

The older man grumbled, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the country roads in front of him. “That sounds like a threat.”

Ellie could tell that he was playing with her. They were professionals when it came to teasing each other, often to the point that people thought that they were seriously bickering. The short haired female let herself settle into the normalcy of the moment. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the accident or her mental state yet, so it was easy to pretend that things were still…okay.

So that’s exactly what she did. She began to pretend. Ellie allowed herself to be transported back in time. This was just another Tuesday. She’d get back home and sweet talk Joel into cooking her an after school snack. Then she’d go up to her room and procrastinate doing her homework so that she could reread one of her comics.

“Got anything good in here?” Ellie asked before opening up the center console. “I’m not gonna find anything nasty, am I?”

Joel’s lips pursed as he tried to fight off a smile. “Don’t go rifflin’ through my shit, kiddo.”

Her eyes snagged on a familiar purple book, and for the first time in a while something yawned to life in her chest. Joy.

“What do we have here?” She pulled out the book of puns, using it to fan herself before she cracked the bad boy open.

“Ah, don’t start.” He groaned.

She didn’t take the time to wonder why he had put the well loved book in his brand new truck. Instead of allowing herself to be overcome with endearment she flipped to a random page, her lips turning up in the first genuine smile she’d had in months.

“Where can you find a tiny coke?” She asked him, turning in her seat so that she could face him, tucking one of her converse-clad feet underneath her.

“Hey! Get your dirty shoes off of my new upholstery!” Joel reached over and gave her knee a slap.

Ellie reared back, holding the book of puns tight to her chest.

“Come on, try and guess.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned his arm against the door.

“I don’t know… tiny town.”

Her nose wrinkled, an eyebrow quirking up at his half assed answer.

“Shitty guess, but alright.” She mumbled under her breath. “Mini-soda.”

“Hilarious.” He said sarcastically, turning onto the familiar drive.

“I think I saw you smile though.”She leaned over to give his cheek a poke, but he swiftly batted her hand away.

The truck’s all-terrain tires crunched over the gravel driveway, revealing the only real home she’d ever lived in. The house and yard looked exactly the same as it had whenever she was a teenager. She sighed out a breath of relief, not knowing how much well she would have handled any sort of severe change. Ellie opened the passenger side door before Joel had a chance to put the car in park, eager to settle in after the flight. She wanted to shower, and that surprised her a bit. A welcome surprise.

Maybe things would be better for her here.

“You didn’t turn my old room into some perverted sex dungeon while I was gone, did you?” She teased as she grabbed her tan duffel bag, easily tossing it over her shoulder as she bounded up the stairs.

He laughed as a response, following close behind her so that he could unlock the front door. She didn’t know why he even bothered. He lived in the middle of nowhere, and they rarely got visitors.

“I’ve got some guitars in there that are worth a fortune.” He’d told her the last time she’d asked.

It had been one of the few times that Ellie had snuck out of the house after curfew. She’d been unable to haul herself back into her second story window once she’d gotten back home and had been forced to sleep in the beat up old hatchback that he had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. Breakfast that morning had been… tense, to say the least.

“I didn’t touch your room… but I did get a dog, so make sure not to let her out.”

She paused at that, turning to look at him with wide eyes. There had been a strict “no animals” rule back when she lived with him. She never thought she’d see the day where Joel Miller would adopt a pet, let alone a dog.

“You got a dog?” She was still in disbelief and half expected him to fucking with her.

“Buckley is a good boy. He shits on the floor sometimes and barks all hours of morning though. It’s almost like having you home.” He teased, bumping his shoulder against hers so that he could shove his key into the lock.

The deadbolt clicked open, and low and behold there was a dog. He looked like some sort of lab mix, his pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he anxiously waited for his owner’s return. Ellie was too excited to come up with a witty response to Joel’s joke. She tossed her duffle down on the couch, quickly getting down on her knees so that she could pet the dog.

“He’s not much of a guard dog, is he?” He asked, closing the door behind him.

The second that Ellie’s hand tangled into his thick black fur he flopped down, eager for love. Ellie smirked, looking at Joel over her shoulder.

“I don’t know. He looks pretty ferocious to me.”

The sudden knock on the door had Ellie’s lips downturning, eyebrows pinching in confusion. She didn’t like the idea of company right now, and the last thing she wanted was to socialize with anyone. For a second she feared that he had called a doctor or therapist to come out to the house to see her. She wasn’t sure if she could take another “come to Jesus” meeting this week, and she was barely holding it together as is. Ellie put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up to stand before she nodded at the door.

“Company?” She simply asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Joel ignored her obvious distaste, wrenching the door open quickly before she could stop him. It sure as hell wasn’t Tommy. . . and Ellie doubted that most doctors wore overalls, even in Jackson. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, the golden rays shone through the vast expanse of trees on the property, making it almost look like the world was on fire. The warm glow behind the beautiful stranger made her look ethereal almost, her eyes watery and cheeks flushed. At her feet was a cardboard box packed to the brim with fruits and vegetables. All at once Ellie became startlingly aware of the fact that she looked like absolute hammered shit. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her skin was paler than it had ever been before, and she was wearing an old NASA shirt and dingy sweatpants. If she noticed her disheveled appearance she didn’t show it.

The smile that she beamed in Joel’s direction didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a strange sense of understanding flickered in Ellie’s gaze as she took a few inquisitive steps forward. Ellie Williams knew what suffering was like; true suffering. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror, her well hidden misery plain as day to the auburn haired female.

“Sorry I’m so late, Mr Miller. My truck was giving me problems.” Her voice was beautiful. Melodic in a way that Ellie’s wasn’t.

Spring. . . this girl was spring incarnate.

And she was lying through her teeth.

She’d been crying. Ellie could tell. Still, Joel was already peeking his head out of the door, looking in the direction of where she had parked.

“I could take a look at it for you.” He was being dismissed with a small wave of your hand before he could even get the words fully out.

“That’s so nice of you, but I’ve got it cranking up again. It shouldn’t give me any more trouble today.” Her hair fell off of her shoulder as she leaned down to pick up the box.

Ellie moved forward without thinking, picking up the heavy box for the girl before her fingers could even grip the sides of the cardboard. “Here, let me get it.” She said, craning her neck up so that she could speak directly to the woman.

There wasn’t a single thing about you that Ellie found undesirable. In that moment she was completely certain that you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with the pain and memory that swirled behind your bright eyes. Their eyes locked, and much to Ellie’s embarrassment, she held her gaze. She watched her with the same sort of silent appreciation.

“-I think it would be good for her. What do you say?” Ellie hadn’t noticed that Joel had been talking the entire time.

The woman blinked a few times, tearing her eyes away from Ellie. “Huh? I’m sorry, do you mind repeating that?” She was nervously tucking a few strands of unruly hair behind her ear, shifting in place on the front porch.

“I was just saying that Ellie is going to be staying out here with me. I think working with you on the farm would be good for her. It would help her to get out of the house, and I know you’ve been pretty busy since it’s just you running things now.” Joel put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Supportive. Non-judgemental. He was reminding her what would be good for her mental state right now, and having something to do with her hands would certainly help to take her mind off of things.

“O-Oh!” The girl’s lips parted in shock, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I get a pretty early start though, so don’t feel obligated to wake up as early as I do.”

“I’ll wake up.” Ellie said quickly, nodding her head.

Her words held a tone of desperation and it had Joel’s head whipping around in her direction. He probably wasn’t expecting her to be so supportive of his last minute idea. She couldn’t be sure if it was because she genuinely wanted to get her mind off of things or if the farm girl’s looks had anything to do with her enthusiasm. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone like this. Relationships were the last thing on her mind these days.

“Can you start tomorrow?” The other girl asked, shoving her hands into her front pockets.

Adorable. She was adorable. Ellie felt her breath hitch and all she could do was nod as an answer for your question.

“Alright. . . “She began to trail off, backing up a few steps on the porch. It seemed like you were in a bit of a hurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” Ellie repeated back to her.

She leaned back, lifting the box higher up on her chest so that she could watch the woman get back into her mud stained pickup truck. She only took a step back when Joel started to close the door on her.

“So you’re actually fine with that? I didn’t think you would go for it, honestly.” Joel rubbed at his stubbled chin, flashing her a small smile of approval.

“There’s no way I want to be stuck in a house with your ass all hours of the day.” Ellie quipped, walking to the kitchen so that she could place the vegetables on the countertop.

“I think workin’ there would be good for the both of you. That poor girl has had an awful year. . . I think you’d be good for each other. She needs a friend.” Joel’s voice was somber as he followed her into the kitchen.

Ellie turned to face the older man, swallowing hard as he leaned against the doorway. He was being a bit cryptic. It seemed like he didn’t want to be the one to tell Ellie the girl’s business. Still, she was curious, and she didn’t want to be blind sided tomorrow just in case she wanted to talk about it. Ellie wasn’t usually nosey, but she had a strong urge to get to know her.

“What do you mean by that?” Ellie’s first guess was that she had to be going through some sort of divorce. Joel had mentioned the fact that she was on her own now, so coming to that conclusion was natural.

“No, nothin’ like that,” He cleared his throat before pushing off of the door frame, slowly beginning to unload the box's contents. “She lost her girlfriend and her father this year. She’s the kindest girl. . . you’d never know how much she’s sufferin’ based on how she acts.”

“Oh.” Ellie frowned, having realized that your mourning must be the reason for your sad, sad eyes. She understood how it felt to lose so many people so close together. Better than anyone, really.

“Oh.”

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cy-cyborg · 10 months

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Writing and drawing amputee characters: Not every amputee wears prosthetics (and that's ok)

Not every amputee wears prosthetics, and not doing so is not a sign that they've "given up".

It's a bit of a trope that I've noticed that when an amputee, leg amputees in particular, don't wear prosthetics in media its often used as a sign that they've given up hope/stopped trying/ are depressed etc. If/when they start feeling better, they'll start wearing their prosthetics again, usually accompanied by triumphant or inspiring music (if it's a movie). The most famous example of this is in Forest Gump, Where Dan spends most of the movie after loosing his legs wishing he'd died instead. He does eventually come around, and him finally moving from his wheelchair to prosthetics is meant to highlight this.

The thing is, it's not that it's unrealistic - in fact my last major mental health spiral was started because one of my prosthetics was being a shit and wouldn't go on properly, despite fitting perfectly at the prosthetist's the day before. I'm not going to use my legs when I'm not in a good headspace, but the problem is, this is the only time non-prosthetic using amputees ever get representation: to show how sad they are. Even if that's not what the creator/writer necessarily intended, audiences will often make that assumption on their own unless you're very careful and intentional about how you frame it, because it's what existing media has taught them to expect.

But there are lots of reasons why someone might not use prosthetics:

they might not need them: this is more common in arm amputees because of how difficult it can be to use arm prosthetic, especially above-elbow prosthetics. Most folks learn how to get on without them pretty well. In fact, most of the arm amputees I know don't have prosthetics, or only have them for specific tasks (e.g. I knew a girl who had a prosthetic hand made specifically for rowing, but that's all she used it for).

Other mobility aids just work better for them: for me, I'm faster, more manoeuvrable and can be out for longer when I'm in my wheelchair than I ever could on my prosthetics. Youtube/tik tok creator Josh Sundquist has said the same thing about his crutches, he just feels better using them than his prosthetic. This isn't the case for everyone of course, but it is for some of us. Especially people with above-knee prosthetics, in my experience.

Other disabilities make them harder to use: Some people are unable to use prosthetics due to other disabilities, or even other amputations. Yeah, as it turns out, a lot of prosthetics are only really designed for single-limb amputees. While they're usable for multi-limb amps, they're much harder to use or they might not be able to access every feature. For example, the prosthetic knee I have has the ability to monitor the walk cycle of the other leg and match it as close as possible - but that only works if you have a full leg on the other side. Likewise, my nan didn't like using her prosthetic, as she had limited movement in her shoulders that meant she physically couldn't move her arms in the right way to get her leg on without help.

Prosthetics are expensive in some parts of the world: not everyone can afford a prosthetic. My left prosthetic costs around $5,000 Australian dollars, but my right one (the above knee) cost $125,000AUD. It's the most expensive thing I own that I only got because my country pays for medical equipment for disabled folks. Some places subsidise the cost, but paying 10% of $125,000 is still $12,500. Then in some places, if you don't have insurance, you have to pay for that all by yourself. Even with insurance you still have to pay some of it depending on your cover. Arm prosthetics are even more expensive. Sure, both arms and legs do have cheaper options available, but they're often extremely difficult to use. You get what you pay for.

they aren't suitable for every type of environment: Prosthetics can be finicky and modern ones can be kind of sensitive to the elements. My home town was in a coastal lowland - this means lots of beaches and lots of swamp filled with salty/brackish water. The metals used in prosthetics don't hold up well in those conditions, and so they would rust quicker, I needed to clean them more, I needed to empty sand out of my foot ALL THE TIME (there always seemed to be more. It was like a bag of holding but it was just sand). Some prosthetics can't get wet at all. There were a few amputees who moved to the area when I was older who just didn't bother lol. It wasn't worth the extra effort needed for the maintenance.

People have allergies to the prosthetic material: This is less of a problem in the modern day, but some people are allergic to the materials their prosthetics are made from. You can usually find an alternative but depending on the type of allergy, some people are allergic to the replacements too.

Some people just don't like them.

There's nothing wrong with choosing to go without a prosthetic. There's nothing wrong with deciding they aren't for you. It doesn't make you a failure or sad or anything else. Using or not using prosthetics is a completely morally neutral thing.

Please, if you're writing amputees, consider if a prosthetic really is the best mobility aid for your character and consider having your characters go without, or at least mix it up a bit.

For example, Xari, one of the main characters in my comic, uses prosthetics unsupported and with crutches, and uses a wheelchair. They alternate between them throughout the story.

#disability #disabled #id in alt text #writing #writing disability #disability representation #authors of tumblr #write #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #creative writing #writing tips #writing resources #writing help #writing advice #writing disability with cy cyborg

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lumibuns-blog · 7 months

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Omggg i saw the new episode of jjk and it gave me such a big idea i think you'd love. Imagine one day sukuna finds his wife that he married thousands of years ago and due to their marriage his wife was granted immortality. And just like she never cheated or kissed another man just waiting for her husband to return and when they reunite (even if he doesnt say it) he is over the moon and just wants to never leave his wifes side ever again. Just much fluff and romance ahhhh

OMG THIS. THIS IS SO CUTE

Sakuna x reader fluff

Sukuna scoffed to himself, the boy had finally allowed him to take control after all this time. Even in this deep underground it felt good to feel the air on his face and not through that brat. He continued forward. Thousands of year of stored power and he had been reduced to a fraction of it, despite the immense power he held he couldn't help but miss the time when he ruled over the landscape, unchallenged.

He had a partner even, the one human who he couldn't bring himself to kill, the one he realized he couldn't live without. You had married him, been granted immortality by his hand, and still he had lost you. His last memory before being split and exorcised, was you running to him, crying his name. He was happy that was his last memory.

Sukuna tore himself from his own thoughts, they so often drifted to you but right now he wanted to use the small amount of freedom he was granted.

He moved his hand foreword, fire erupting from his fist as he threw the heat forward, it crashed through a wall, tunneling through the train station. He heard peoples screams like music to his ears, he walked foreword through the rubble. People ran, screaming, away from him. Fire cast from all around him, bursting every human in his sight into flames, he hummed contently to himself.

"S-Sukuna?" A feeble voice trembled from beside him

He knew that voice, he knew that voice, he slowly turned, a truly befuddled expression on his face, his lip curled as he dare not get his hood up but...

There you were, you looked exactly as gorgeous as the last moment he saw you, nothing changed, your clothes were more modern of course but there was no mistaking it, you were here.

"I knew it was you!" you cried, tears streaming down your face. You threw yourself into his arms.

He was too stunned to speak, his arms unmoving, all he could he process was the blood running down your leg, he moved his arms to gently put you down,

"Sakuna-"

"Did I do this to you?" He asked, his hand moving down to your leg, activating he reverse curse technique to heal the gash. He just couldn't believe that he had hurt you, it had been 1000 years and the first thing he did was hurt you

"Oh my love don't worry about that now" you smiled gently, you had always forgiven him no matter what he did

You moved a hand to his face to gently tip his head to look at you.

"I thought you would have found someone else by now, had a family moved on, I mean I'm sure you have" his voice grumbled low in his throat

"I would never" you leaned your forehead against his "I haven't touched a single souls since I lost you, I-I knew you would come back just like you promised"

Sakuna remembered the promise he had made to you that dim moonlit night, on the engawa of the palace you shared, that he would never leave you, even if the world fell apart he would always find you.

"I've missed you" he whispered moving his lips to kiss yours, he moved back to take in your entire person

"Your as beautiful as the day I lost you" he breathed

You smiled sweetly

"What the hell is going on?!?-" the onlooker was silenced as his head burst into flames

You continued to smile as if it was nothing

He picked you up bridal style, "we'll go find the house we used to share" he smirked to you

"I'd like that" you giggle

'Hey what the hell is going on' the brat who's body he had been forced to posses voice rang out in his head

Sukuna slapped his face "just shut it would ya" he growled to himself

"What was that?" you questioned from his arms

"I have a lot to explain" he breathed out

#jjk #jjk x y/n #jjk x oc #jjk imagines #jjk sakuna #sakuna ryomen #sakunaru #sakuna x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x oc #sukuna fluff

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mrsbarnesblog · 8 months

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Bucky Barnes Masterlist

ko-fi ao3

⭐️ - personal favorite

❤️‍🔥 - smut

🩷 - fluff

🖤 - angst

⭐️❤️‍🔥Jersey - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Natasha’s idea of getting a jersey with Bucky’s name turned out to be much better than you expected. (3.2k)

⭐️❤️‍🔥Push Him - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x PR Manager! Reader

When you became Avenger’s PR manager, you basically got your dream job, but one particular man, who had been staring at you every single time you were around, made you wonder whether it was because he hated or liked you. (6.8k.)

⭐️❤️‍🔥Stay quiet for me - Modern! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky fucks you while your parents sleep in the next room. (1.6k)

❤️‍🔥Little games - Gamer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You really need to calm down, so you get under Bucky's table while he's playing with his friends. (1.4k)

🩷Sandcastles - CEO! Husband! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky is always working overtime, but when his best girls really need him, he leaves everything behind just to make you happy. (1.6k)

❤️‍🔥 New purchase - Mob! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You just got a new expensive lingerie set and decided to tease your mafia boss boyfriend with some sexy pictures. (2.3k)

⭐️❤️‍🔥 Firewood - Lumberjack! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When you decide to chop wood in your backyard, your hot neighbor, who happens to be a lumberjack, offers you some help. (4.8k)

🩷 I can't let you get hurt - Brother's best friend! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You have just moved to New York, where your adopted brother Steve has been living for 5 years. Desperate to make new friends, you give the dating app another go. You didn’t even think that you would have to ask for help from the person who has not left your thoughts for the past month - your brother’s best friend. (3.3k)

❤️‍🔥 Don't hide - Mechanic! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Somehow you ended up in a storage room with one of your dad's mechanics. (1.8k)

🩷 My everything - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before. (6.8k)

⭐️🩷Personal pillow - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You confront avengers when they start teasing Bucky about being too soft. (1.6k)

⭐️🩷 I trust you - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When Bucky comes back from a mission with a knife wound there is only one person who can convince him to get help. (3.5k)

⭐️🩷 You deserve the world - College! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You were in a relationship with a man who had never truly cared about you, but after catching him cheating on you at a friend's party, you eventually decided to end things with him. The good news was that there was always someone who wasn't going to let you go through it alone. (4.6k)

🩷 Barbie - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky takes his best girl to watch a Barbie movie and then spoils her with gifts. (1.3k)

❤️‍🔥 Wakanda - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Reader

You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out. (2.7k)

Requests

We could've done it earlier - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When one of the new recruits started following you around and being too persistent, Bucky decided to help you by kissing you right in front of that guy. Though he didn't realize that he wouldn't be able to stop. (2.3k)

Night - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

You wandered around the Tower at night because you couldn't sleep. In the common room, you find Bucky sitting in the dark and decide to share an ice cream pint with him.

Snowman - Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Reader

When the first snow of the year had just covered the whole of New York City, you tried to convince Bucky to play outside with you. He couldn't find the power in himself to say no to you, even if it's his least favorite time of the year.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #marvel #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes masterlist

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chaoticace2005 · 3 months

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Vox’s Rivalry with Alastor: Need for Control

The whole thing with Vox is control. He’s the embodiment of modern technology and surveillance. The privacy issues we face? In Hell that’s all Vox. And when you think of it like that his whole rivalry with Alastor makes so much sense on a logical level.

Things Vox Controls:

-The public: constant surveillance, brainwashing, and further control over media content they consume. He doesn’t just control what people watch but he watches people.

-This partners (to a degree): we see this with how he interacts with Valentino. He isn’t the one in CHARGE, but the thing with Valentino is he tends to be very explosive, and Vox is able to direct the blast in a direction that won’t harm him (offers to bring up employees for Val to kill so he won’t make a public display about Angel)

-Himself: We see how he puts so much energy on to be publicity ready and have a smile on his face. Talking very much like a businessman or politician. He acts completely different in front of camera.

Even his smile. Both Vox and Alastor use smiling as a mechanism to hide their true selves. But with Alastor it works as a way to keep people guessing, to inspire a level of fear oftentimes.

Vox isn’t like that. He puts on a fake, plastic smile. Alastor tries to make himself off putting on purpose, Vox doesn’t. He does it to keep them complacent. Alastor smiles so people won’t figure him out. Vox smiles so people trust him enough not to try.

We see that the second Alastor is brought up that smile vanishes. His self control is gone. Throughout the song we see him lose more control over his public persona, getting more visibly angry, while at the same time the public turns more to Alastor. Meanwhile Alastor also butters his partners up and publicly announces to the world that “no, Vox can’t control me. Trust me, he tried.”

Every single thing Vox controls is threatened when Alastor is involved. Vox has no way to control him.

-Methods he uses on the public? Surveillance and media? Won’t work because Alastor can’t be captured on camera well and hates modern technology. Brainwashing the public? Won’t work if they’re paying more attention to Alastor than him.

-His partners? Alastor declined his partnership and is willing to poke at the relationship between the Vees. All the Vees carry some weight in the relationship, but Alastor could make Vox seem obsolete. He’s able to control their public perception, yes- but one of them could easily go rogue and blow that to bits.

-Himself? Demolished. Gone. He has a public breakdown. He glitches out. Fully cries at the end of the song. Maybe it’s the fear of what Alastor could do, maybe it’s their past, maybe it’s Vox’s weird hate boner, maybe it’s unrequited feelings. Who knows. All logic and control goes out the window when Alastor is involved.

And the thing Alastor seems very much the same. He hates being under someone’s leash. He needs to be in control. When he’s reminded he’s not he lashes out. The first time we really see their masks break is when they’re reminded of the fact there is someone out there that is a threat to the control the have. The “What did you say?” they both do before lashing out.

I’m interested in seeing how they’ll interact in the future. Because they really do seem like two sides of the same coin. The only difference is we know who Vox is afraid of, we don’t fully know who Alastor is of yet. They need power over others, but more than that they need power over themselves. (Alastor being controlled by whatever the deal he made was. While Vox is controlled by his emotions towards Alastor. And both being controlled by their fear.)

( @gabrielsbubblegumbitch I’m curious on your thoughts? I’ve read some of your analyses 1’s would love feedback.)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel meta #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #radio demon hazbin hotel #staticradio #radiostatic #one sided

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st-eve-barnes · 9 months

Text

Hush (modern Aemond x fem Reader)

Summary: Aemond has been crushing on you since forever but is too shy to tell you. One night while watching a movie with your friends and cuddling underneath a blanket he shows you just how much he desires you. Based on this little prompt "What if I pull your panties aside, and finger you in a public place…?"

Word count: +3700

Warning: 18+ for explicit content and language, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, hand job (sort of), mild choking,

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

Aemond’s mind was everywhere except focussed on the movie playing on the big tv in front of him. Lord of the Rings the Two Towers just finished a few minutes ago and the intro for Return of the King now filled the screen. Aemond adored these movies, they always managed to get him out of his own head and distract him from whatever was happening in real life.

But tonight, even Frodo and Sam didn’t succeed in changing his low mood.

If it were up to him he’d be in his room right now, wallowing and hiding away from the world.

But his friends had insisted he’d hang with them for their weekly movie marathon. Part of him was grateful they looked out for him and cared enough, but another part of him just wanted to be left alone.

You’d been gone for over 5 hours now and he hadn’t thought of anything else since, how beautiful you looked with your hair down and that short, sexy black dress you only wore on date nights. Not that he would know anything about that. You had dated half his friend group but never him.

Of course not him, why would you?

He grabbed another handful of popcorn and tried to focus on the beginning of the movie but it was no use. He knew he’d go to sleep with you still on his mind, like he had so many night before in the past 3 years since he’d known you.

It was completely pathetic, but what was he to do? You were his best friend. He was the first one you ran to after every single one of those dates, sometimes to talk about how amazing the guy was and how you hoped he might be the one, but more often than not it was to cry on Aemond’s shoulder after another asshole broke your heart.

The jealousy was enough to drive him insane sometimes, but still he was only too happy to lend you his shoulder and his arms whenever you needed them.

You always seemed so comfortable around him and in return Aemond could let his guard down with you, which was rare for him. Your friendship was the most important thing in his life, he’d rather die than lose you, and he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you at all. So he kept his feelings locked away deep down and played the part of supportive best friend while you went on one date after the other with a bunch of guys who never stuck around for very long.

But he always would. Until maybe one day you would see…

He knew that was a dream he should stop indulging in but he just could’t help it, he was too far gone for you and tonight was a low point. He craved you so bad just the thought of you in that black dress had him growing hard in his sweatpants.

***

You opened the door of the apartment as quietly as you could, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself. You knew they were all watching the movie and maybe if you were careful enough you could just slip past everyone and get to your room without having to explain…

“Y/N!”

Shit.

Helaena’s voice made everyone look up at you. Your friends were all spread out across the living room, on the couches and on the floor, covered in blankets and surrounded by cozy lights and candles. The whole setting was very inviting yet you wanted no part in it right now, you just wanted to get to your room before you would burst out in tears.

But when Helaena got up and put her arms around you that plan failed.

“Oh, honey, no…what’s wrong?” she looked at you with concern on her face.

“Bad date,” you sobbed,”Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay,” she caressed your hair,”Do you wanna watch the movie with us? We just started Return of the king.”

You shook your head,”I just want to crawl into my bed and disappear.”

But Helaena didn’t let go of you and shook her head,”No, I can’t allow that.”

“Can’t allow that?” you couldn’t help but smile through your tears.

“Come join us, you can cry over that asshole later, the people who care about you are right here.”

You sighed.

“Please?” she added with her sweetest smile, pulling you over the edge easily. You knew she was right, you deserved to end the night surrounded by friends instead of alone in your bed crying over some guy who wasn’t even worth it.

“Fine,” you caved,”just give me a few minutes.”

“Take your time, grab some popcorn and a drink from the kitchen and come find a spot.”

You did as she suggested, making a quick stop in the bathroom first to wash off your make up and exchange your dress for some comfortable shorts and a t-shirt. Then you got some snacks from the kitchen table and a soda from the fridge before making your way back to the living room.

Much to your dismay everyone was sitting in pairs, even Helaena who seemed very cozy next to Jace. You instantly wanted to turn on your heel and go hide in your room anyway. But then you saw him, the only one who was sitting by himself.

Aemond.

He was already looking at you when your eyes met his and he gave you a little smile, mouthing,”You okay?”

You shook your head.

“Come here,” he beckoned and he lifted up his blanket, an invite to join him and you didn’t hesitate.

You placed your drink and snacks on the table and crawled into the empty space next to him, Aemond was quick to cover you with the blanket.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, his hand on your lower back to pull you to him and place a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, Aem,” you smiled weakly.

“That bad, hmm?” he asked.

You laughed bitterly, feeling the tears well up again,”Yeah, that bad.”

“Want me to go beat him up? Run him over with my car? Set fire to his place? Just name it. I can make it look like an accident.”

Your laugh was sincere and his lips curled up into a smile of his own while his hand squeezed at your hip.

Despite your best efforts a tear ran down your cheek anyway.

“Hey, baby, don’t,” he whispered while his hand gently cupped your cheek, brushing your tears away,”Don’t cry, sweet girl.”

You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest and Aemond wrapped his arm around you, gently caressing your hair while he held you.

“You liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked with a sigh.

“No, he was a total jerk.”

Aemond’s other hand gently cupped your cheek, his eye meeting yours,”Then why the tears?”

“I’m just…so tired of meeting these assholes. He flirted with the waitress the entire time, right in front of me, even gave her his number, like I wasn’t even there and…it just made me feel so…unlovable.”

Aemond’s jaw tensed up and you could see anger boiling in his one good eye.

His thumb traced your jaw,“Give me his name and I will make him regret it.”

He sounded so intense and serious you weren’t sure if he was still joking or not and it made a shiver run up your spine.

“When you talk like that I almost think you mean it,” you pointed out.

“Almost?” he gave you a teasing little smirk and you shook your head, leaning into his touch and Aemond didn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around you and pull you into him. You melted into his arms and let the rest of your tears fall freely, knowing Aemond would hold you through every last one of them.

You felt like the luckiest girl alive having him as your best friend.

He tightened his hug, soothing you with sweet, comforting words while his hand softly stroked your hair.“It’s okay…I got you, sweetheart..it’s okay, he doesn’t deserve you…please don’t cry…It’s alright, baby, I’m here.”

This wasn’t new, you crying your heart out in Aemond’s arms, it happened way too often, but something felt different tonight. The pet names, the way his touches lingered and how hungry he looked at you in between made your stomach flutter. And you didn't want it to stop.

Your tears were soon forgotten and the horrible date faded into nothing but a distant memory as you relaxed under Aemond’s attention.

You were stroking up and down his back when you accidentally slipped your hand underneath his shirt, a small whimper left his lips at your unexpected touch. It encouraged you to do it again, letting your nails drag across his back, this time he let out a small moan and his hand tightened in your hair.

“Aem,” you buried your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in and making him shiver. He was biting his lip to keep from moaning again as you continued to touch him. When you placed a soft, innocent kiss in his neck he lost that fight.

You couldn’t help but smile seeing the effect you had on him and you kissed him again, this time letting your tongue trace lightly over his skin until he shivered again. You pulled back.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, grabbing the back of your neck to hold you close to him,”Please…please baby, don’t stop.”

His one hand moved down your back to cup your ass and pull your one leg over his, your knee bumping up against his growing erection.

There was no way you were going to stop now.

You kissed his neck again and Aemond pulled the blanket up a little higher, making sure no one else could see what you two were doing but everyone seemed too distracted watching the movie anyway.

Your hands moved underneath his shirt to touch his chest and stomach, his skin was warm, hard and soft at the same time and you could feel him shiver again, his hungry eyes begging you not to stop.

Aemond was losing his mind, your hands all over him were driving him crazy and when you started kissing his neck again he was suddenly rock hard in his sweatpants. He needed to take control back fast, he grabbed your wrists to hold you back.

“Turn around,” he begged in a husky voice, still breathing faster than usual.

He manoeuvred you into a different position so you were lying with your back up against his chest. You instantly missed the feeling of his skin under your hands but it was forgotten about quickly when Aemond gently moved your hair to one side, exposing your neck to him and then placing soft, hot kisses on your shoulder.

Now it was your turn to try and stay quiet and you were losing the fight just as quickly as he had, letting out a soft whimper when he started kissing and sucking your neck.

“Aem,” you breathed.

His mouth was right next to your ear,”You want me to stop?”

There was a teasing, smug tone to his voice, he knew damn well you didn’t want him to stop.

His hand moved up your hip, over your stomach to cup your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple while he continued placing wet kisses all over your neck.

Your eyes closed in pure bliss. “Please,” you begged,”Touch me…under my shirt…please.”

You could feel his lips quirk up in a smile and he gave you what you asked for, pushing up your t-shirt and caressing your tits again, pinching your nipple in between his fingers while his teeth grazed your ear.”I’ve wanted to put my hands on you for so long…touch you just like this…fuck, you have no idea what you do to me…how hard you make me.”

To accentuate his words he carefully lifted his hips to push back against your ass, letting you feel his aching cock.

You squirmed in his arms.

“Shhh,” he purred,”You need to keep quiet or I have to stop, okay? Can’t let anyone see what we’re doing.”

You bit your lip and quickly nodded your head. Your hand was on his leg and you were squeezing hard while you pressed your own legs together trying to relieve some pressure.

To say you had never lusted after Aemond would be a lie. You had always found him gorgeous and intense in a very sexy way, but he was your best friend, somehow you had never allowed your mind to really go there. Until tonight, and now that you had opened that door there was no end to how much you desired him.

“Feel,” he breathed into your ear while he took your hand and placed it on his cock,”Feel how hard you make me.”

You rubbed him through his pants, making him growl into your ear. Before you could do it again he pushed your hand away and kissed your neck again.

“You’re squirming so much, little one, what is it?” he teased, an amused tone to his voice,”Is there something you need, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you breathed and you turned your head just enough to make brief eye contact with him,”I need you to touch me, Aem.”

You didn’t need to give him anymore details, he knew exactly what you meant.

“Can you be quiet for me?” Aemond checked, his tone serious.

“Hmm,” you confirmed.

He placed a soft kiss on your jaw while his hand moved down to your hip and then your inner thigh.”Spread your legs for me,” he whispered in your ear while placing your leg over his, spreading you open for him. You moved with him so easily and eagerly he cursed himself for not having done this sooner.

He caressed your hair and then placed his hand in the back of your neck, massaging softly and pulling your shirt down so he could kiss more of your shoulders and your back.

“Aem,” your voice was shaking,”Please…please.”

You had never begged so much in your life and every single one of your pleas was music to Aemond’s ears.

“Shhh, I got you,” he whispered, carefully untying your shorts and then slipping his hand underneath, teasing you by dragging his fingers over your panties,”Fuck, these are soaked right through. You are so wet, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but whimper at his words and Aemond grabbed your chin with his thumb, making you look back into his eye,”You really need it, don't you, sweetheart? Is that why you’re dripping all over my hand, hmm? You want it that bad?”

You nodded and bit your lip,”I want you that bad.”

His cock stirred at your words and the feel of your hot, wet pussy under his hand was becoming too much. Fuck it, he should just drag you to his bedroom right now and fuck you into his mattress, give into what he'd been craving for so long now. But he also wanted to save that part for later, when all your friends had gone home and he could have you all to himself, take his time to really worship you the way he always dreamed of.

This right here, teasing you and feeling your body burn up under his touch, was turning him on beyond reason and it would have to be enough for now.

His breath was hot and heavy in your ear,”You want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

He gently pulled your hair back, placing his lips on your ear as he whispered,”You want me to push your panties to the side and finger you right here, with all of our friends in the room? Would you like that, my sweet dirty girl?”

All you managed was a quiet moan in the back of your throat but it was enough confirmation for Aemond to continue.

“God, you’re such a bad girl,” he purred, licking the spot right below your ear,”You’ll be quiet for me, yeah? Otherwise I can’t continue, okay, baby?”

“I’ll be quiet,” you nodded,”I promise.”

You were lying, you couldn’t promise him a damn thing and you were pretty sure he knew that but both of you were too far gone to stop now. He could suggest fucking you right here with all of your friends as witnesses and you would probably still say yes, that’s how badly you needed him.

Aemond carefully pulled down your shorts and then pushed your panties aside. His long delicate fingers teasing your clit, circling it slowly and spreading your wetness all over your folds.

You bit your lip to keep your moans quiet.

“Good girl,” Aemond praised,”Good fucking girl…lean back against me.”

Your head fell back onto his shoulder and Aemond caressed your hair, nuzzling your neck and your cheek, his other hand still rubbing perfect circles over your most sensitive spot. He continued until he noticed you started breathing harder and faster, your nails digging into his thigh, your orgasm within reach.

His finger moved to tease your entrance and you were no longer able to hold back the quiet little moans escaping your lips. You wanted to beg and scream but you also didn’t want to make a single sound and be so good for him. Aemond didn’t stop, pushing his long delicate finger into your fluttering walls and the both of you gasped for air for a moment.

“Fuck,” he breathed,”Oh god, you’re so tight…so warm….and so fucking wet for me…fuck, baby, I can’t wait for you to take my cock.”

You moaned at his words and he was quick to cover your mouth with his free hand.

“Shhh shhh,” he insisted but he didn’t pull back, instead he added another finger and then just held them there without moving,”You can’t do that, sweetheart, they’ll hear us. Be a good girl for me, okay?”

You nodded quickly, desperate for him to move his fingers again.

“Here, bite my thumb,” he suggested, letting his finger brush over your lips. You were quick to take him into your mouth, sucking slowly and dragging your tongue all over it. Aemond instantly regretted his choice because now he was the one losing control again. The feel of your hot, wet mouth on him went straight to his cock and the thought of that mouth swallowing him whole was enough to almost set him off.

“Slow down,” he begged,”Please, baby, slow down…fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like some horny teenager if you keep doing that.”

You looked up at him with feigned innocence while you sucked harder, keeping your eyes on him.

“Stop!” he pulled his thumb from your mouth and you couldn’t help but smirk this time.

“Aemond, you have to be quiet,” you teased.

Aemond’s hand moved to your neck, not choking you but holding you still while he started fucking you with his fingers, taking back control.

“Fuck,” you breathed.

“Maybe I should just keep teasing you, hmm?” he grunted in your ear,”Bad girls don’t get to cum and that…was very bad of you.”

He kept fucking you with his two fingers, curling them just right but as soon as he hit the sweet spot he pulled back.

“No, no please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Aem.”

He added pressure around your throat and started kissing your shoulder again, soft sweet kisses turned rough and he sucked your skin until it bruised, all while adding a third finger and fucking you faster. You were falling fast, biting down on your own hand now to stop from making too much noise.

“That’s my good girl,” he growled in your ear, while his thumb found your clit again,”I knew you could do it, sweetheart."

You were so close, your pussy clenching around him over and over, your climax was right there, all you needed was that last little…

“Cum for me, my sweet girl,” he whispered softly, teeth grazing your ear,”Come on..god, fuck you’re squeezing me so tight…shit….cum for me, baby, please. Please.”

He choked on his last word and you came hard, but not before moving your hand to his cock, rubbing him through his sweatpants until Aemond buried his face into your neck, muffling his own moan and spilling into his pants.

“Fuck, oh god you fucking little brat…fuck,” he breathed hard, wrapping both arms around you to hold you close to him. You stayed like that for a while until you turned around to be able to hug him back. Your eyes finally meeting his fully and the soft smile he greeted you with warmed your heart.

Aemond gently cupped your cheek.”Hey,” he whispered, suddenly shy again while biting down on his lip.

“Hey, you,” you smiled.

“Come here,” he leaned in to kiss your lips, slow and deep and so soft it was making your head spin again. You kissed him back with the same fire, melting into his embrace.

All those bad dates and horrible guys and you could have been doing this all along. Regret filled your senses and Aemond noticed the sudden serious expression in your eyes.

“Hey, you okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, concerned,"Was it too much? Did you not like all the teasing?"

"No, no god that was perfect," you reassured him,"I just…wish we’d done this sooner.”

His lisp curled up into the biggest smile, warming your heart,”Me too, but we’ll make up for lost time, I promise, my sweet girl.”

He leaned in to place another soft, lingering kiss on your lips.

It was Aegon’s loud and obnoxious voice that pulled you both out of your haze:”Are you guys about done so we can get back to watching the movie now? Jesus fucking Christ, the bedrooms are right there, you couldn’t have done that in there or waited until the movie was over? Fucking horny bastards.”

“Oh god,” you buried your face against Aemond’s chest in embarrassment and he hugged you close, shielding you from the others and giving his brother the finger but also unable to keep the happy grin off his face.

Then he did what Aegon suggested, grabbing your hand and pulling you with him towards his bedroom, under loud cheers from most of your friends.

Aemond turned around one last time to wink at Aegon,”Better turn up that volume cause we're not going to be quiet this time.”

He closed the door behind him just in time to dodge the pillow Aegon threw at him.

#aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #ewan mitchell fanfic #hotd fanfic #modern aemond #modern au

1K notes · View notes

literaila · 4 months

Text

reassurance

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: megumi can't sleep

warnings: reader teases megumi, missing satoru

last part | next part

year one.

it’s your first night with the kids alone.

and you’re not nervous—no, not at all. having satoru around is basically like having a toddler who’s learned how to walk and gets into cupboards (just maybe slightly more annoying and less cute), so why would you be worried without him here?

honestly, it’s probably better this way. there’s no one to annoy megumi into hiding in his room all night. no one to use terrible pickup lines and swear that they’re working (they are).

but… you will admit that his presence is a reassurance of its own.

not just because of his power, or his strength, though that’s certainly something to consider. if someone was going to come and steal your children back, now might be a perfect opportunity. you know that they would lurk at your door waiting for a single moment that satoru was gone. and it would probably work, except for the fact that you’d sooner skin yourself with a dull knife from satoru’s kitchen than let that happen.

obviously, satoru wouldn’t need to go to such extremes. one blink from him and any threat would basically evaporate.

but it’s not even that.

satoru has always been that reassurance for you. despite any complaints you have about his attitude and the stupid things he says… it’s a welcome escape from the interminable worries in your mind.

you’d discovered this at sixteen when the two of you were alone on a mission for the first time.

if you were worried, if you got hurt, if you had a single doubt hidden beneath the warmth of your cursed energy or the bravado you’d foolishly flung around at that age—satoru was the complete opposite of all of that.

he would wave off your fears with a raised eyebrow. would laugh off your injuries before dragging you to the infirmary. he would take your doubts—with all of their hidden strength and knowledge—and purify them to a pulp.

you’ve never quite understood it.

where suguru would share your fears with you, assuring that you weren’t alone in the world of morality and fear, satoru would think of absolutely nothing at all.

and make fun of him all you want, but it was a nice break from logic and emotion. you’d admired him at sixteen for being so detached from the world and its curses.

(now, sometimes, it worries you. has he fallen so far from humanity that he can’t feel any of it? is he immune to the tortures of living in a world like yours?)

and you got used to being alone with those thoughts and doubts. you had to, even if you’d missed him desperately for a time that felt much longer than a year.

but you’ve also never had two children in your care, never had to worry about anything but yourself and the consequences of your very minute actions.

now every action feels like a tidal wave you could point in any direction.

if satoru was here, you think, at least you could blame the mistakes on him. comparatively, one of you is much better at being a responsible adult for tsumiki and megumi (hint: not the strongest sorcerer of the modern age).

and with satoru on some egregious mission—to who knows where, directed by only the people who hate him the most—you’re stuck in his house, with the kids, all alone.

it feels much too big in here without satoru’s ego to fill it.

maybe if you’d had a day to prepare you’d be better off. but satoru called you six hours ago with the news—and you know that he did it on purpose—telling you that you should just stay the night. you can even sleep in my bed, he’d drawled to you, just like you’ve always dreamed of.

you could’ve told him to go to hell, you know, if it weren’t for the sweetest little girl and the grumpiest little boy you’d ever met.

and, actually, it hasn’t gone too bad so far.

you made them dinner, which they both ate diligently like if they didn’t finish every bit on their plates you would kick them out—who knows if they liked it with the people-pleasing brats. and then they’d sat on the couch, commenting on some movie you’d never heard of.

and now, at ten o’clock at night, you’re cleaning up the kitchen worrying about the very monsters you’d trained for four years to deal with.

it's absolutely ridiculous, but there's no one here to tell you that.

“what’s wrong with your face?” a voice says, suddenly.

you turn to see megumi in the ridiculous pajamas satoru insisted on getting him—with some type of cat on them for god knows why—standing in the kitchen doorway with his signature frown.

“jeez,” you breathe out, leaning against the counter—pretending like your cursed energy hadn’t surged in your fists the moment you saw him there—and crossing your arms. “don’t scare me like that, kid. did satoru tell you to do that?”

you almost want to laugh at how his frown deepens at the mention of his name.

“sorry,” he murmurs, going to sit on a bar stool, just a bit too short to do it elegantly. “what’s wrong?”

“what? nothings wrong.”

“your face looks weird.”

oh, another thing about tonight. megumi is a lot more forthcoming when satoru isn’t around—you choose not to dwell on the prospects of that. you wonder what he’s like when you’re not around.

“i was just thinking," you say, blandly.

“you have to have a freaky look on your face to think?”

“okay, judgy," you sigh, leaning against the counter across from him, a brow quirked. "what are you doing up? it’s late.”

megumi shrugs. “can't sleep.”

he says it like he’s dealt with the same problems for many years like he’s not six years old and missing a tooth. it would be cute—how old and mature he seems—if it didn’t worry you.

satoru would coo at him, call him an old soul and ruffle his hair until megumi smacked him away.

but you wonder if he’s less an old soul and more of a hurt child.

“are you thinking about the scary movie satoru showed you?” you ask him, frowning. “i heard tsumiki had nightmares about it a couple days ago.”

“no. it wasn’t that scary. tsumiki just doesn’t like monsters.”

“and you do?”

he shrugs again.

you tap your fingers against the countertop. “have you been up this whole time?”

he nods. his movements are short and exact. “why are you still awake?”

“i was cleaning up.”

“gojo usually doesn’t do that until morning."

“what did we discuss at dinner?” you ask, rhetorically, shaking your head. “don’t do anything satoru does.”

megumi nods again, very seriously.

“do you need something? warm milk? my mom used to give me that when i couldn’t sleep.”

the boy frowns. “gross.”

“don’t knock it till you try it,” you tell him, smiling a little. “you were a baby once too.”

he shakes his head and you laugh. you should be scolding him and telling him to go back to sleep, but it's rare when you get a moment alone with the little boy. you're almost savoring it.

“did you try counting sheep?” you ask, teasing him. it's very easy when he looks almost... comfortable.

he rolls his eyes, messing with a wrapper satoru left lying around, but you can tell that he's trying not to smile too. after three months with him, it's almost easy to see the subtle shift in his features.

“when’s gojo going to be back?” he asks, after a moment, looking up at you with dark blue eyes. his voice is quieter, still like a portrait.

you pause, considering. it's a surprising change of subject. honestly, you hadn't even thought that megumi had noticed he was gone. “um… i’m not sure. it could be tomorrow, it could be a couple days from now. it depends on how far he had to go for work.”

“he’s killing curses right?”

the words almost shock you into taking a step back, but you refrain.

you make a mental note to smack satoru the next time you see him.

your mouth opens. then you close it. “what does satoru tell you when i’m not here?”

he scratches his head. “just that we’re privileged and that i can see things other people can’t.”

you narrow your eyes at him.

“and that he’s the best.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, that sounds like him.”

“is he?”

“hmm?”

“the best?”

you watch his eyes, suddenly wide, weirdly curious. “i guess,” you answer, a little teasing, a little serious. you don't really want to explain this to megumi. you shouldn't have to. “he’d be better if he didn’t brag about it all of the time.”

“so he kills those things a lot?”

“what do you mean?”

“it’s normal for him?” he clarifies, leaning his small arms on the counter to observe you closely.

if you weren't so used to this, you might feel a bit uncomfortable.

“um, yes." you answer, not sure how far to go. "it’s pretty standard for sorcerers.”

“like me, right?”

“yes.”

he nods, his brows still furrowed, thinking harder than a six-year-old should. in your personal opinion, he shouldn't have to worry about anything.

but satoru clearly doesn't share that sentiment.

it's quiet for a moment while megumi thinks about your words. he doesn't seem to be wary of his own powers, or the fact that he's been shoved into this world. but, still, this is a weird topic for him.

it makes you wish again that satoru was here, just so you don't have to explain everything alone. he's much more clear than you are.

after the silence draws on, megumi looks down at the counter with skeptical eyes, your brows raise in surprise. “are you--" you almost smile. "are you worried about him?”

megumi’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “what?” he snaps, voice harsher than you've heard it directed at you. “no.”

your lip twitches.

“it’s nice without him,” the boy continues. “he always tries to mess up my hair.”

because this is the worst thing that satoru has done to the boy, obviously.

you watch him as he looks away again, a little embarrassed. he shakes his head so his hair hides his face.

“oh, yeah," you respond, a little sarcastic. "why would you miss him?”

why would anybody?

“right.” he pauses. from this close, you can see a pattern of freckles on his pale skin. he looks up again. “are you worried?”

you almost smile. “no, he’s too annoying to get hurt.”

megumi nods immediately.

you’re eating breakfast with the kids when he appears at the table, his grin wide, his hair a bit wild.

satoru is sitting with the three of you before you can blink, his arms open wide, his blindfold a bit crooked.

you gasp and both children flinch away at his sudden appearance.

he is quite scary.

“hey, family,” he says to all of you, smoothly. “what’d i miss?”

megumi stands up from the table, taking a step away from the man, and you smack his head.

tsumiki just giggles.

next part

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ilyuu · 6 months

Text

sweet aroma & ink.

ft. kazuha, scaramouche & xiao.

warnings : modern au, college au, florist!kazuha, barista!scara, songwriter!xiao, cursing (scara), ooc, strangers to friends (to lovers), i’m putting that in parentheses because it’s more implied than anything.

a/n : this was an old draft i’ve had like,, months ago that was 3/4 of the way done before i’ve given up on it so,,, heh surprise? :D

kazuha.

that one florist that gazes at every single flower, bouquet, that comes in his touch with a brush of fondness. whenever he talks, his voice and words brings spring to mind.

it catches his eyes with its colors, scents, and meanings, its feelings, in the droplets that clings onto the petals - that and he catches the eyes of everyone who passes by, inside the small space or by windows. he greets with every one of them with a gentle smile, his eyes softening, and sweeps them off their feet.

his days are more than alright to him - after classes, surrounded by the fruits of all inspiration and poetry, he likes to think, and brings in nothing but comfort.

and a ring of a bell tugs him out of his thoughts.

the look in your eyes is like a breath of fresh air.

there’s something about it that makes it more of a pleasure to talk to you - whenever you stare at a flower in particular, star-shaped petals, a pure white as smaller ones are a violet, as it hangs its head, he’s tempted to simply go off on a tangent on its beauty, though simply sticks to the book on its name.

“hoya belle,” he says, and his voice, with how warm and soft it sounds, is music to your ears already. “that’s their name. a gentle sight, is it?”

“it really is.” there’s a sort of awe in your words that he chuckles to himself at, catching your attention. “oh?”

“apologies. i didn’t mean to laugh.”

“ah, no worries. i do seem to be excited over flowers of all things… can’t really help that part of me.”

“and there’s no need to. no reason to hold back your adoration for them either. it’s alright.”

your eyes widens just a bit before turning your head to the side, wearing a smile that’s all over the place that he can’t help but do the same, looking away with a huff of his own.

“can you… tell me a bit more about them?”

his eyes lightens. “of course.”

and you take it all in. with every word he says, it only lights up a question, which further coaxes him to say more. for those few minutes, he indulges you as much as he indulges himself; his curiosity in you simply growing by the second - that is, until the small bell chimes again, and the world around the two of you seems to slip back into place.

you profusely apologize for taking up his time and he shakes his head (a voice asks “what time, when it all felt so short?”) he excuses himself and, while tending to the trickle of customers here and there, his eyes kept straying back to you.

off to the seed packets hanging on a racket, off to dote on some of the flowers on display by the windows, off to the ceiling and walls with slithering ivy that adds its charm. he captures every little moment.

so it came as slight surprise for him, for some reason, when you came up to the counter, holding a packet of their same flowers the two of you were talking about earlier. “this one please.”

he simply smiles.

something bloomed, and no, it isn’t the flowers.

you come to visit him here and there, and his shift seems to pass by a blink of an eye whenever you do, enjoying the seconds, minutes, and hours on all sorts of flowers at first, before moving on to each other. it’s to the point that you’ve already exchanged numbers!

and you drift away a bit too swiftly for his liking whenever it’s time for you to head out. he makes it out with the rest of the day with the quiet promise you’ve made to him that you’ll spare some time to see him soon.

he catches himself staring at the door whenever business is a bit slow, and only chuckles at himself for his impatience.

scaramouche.

that one barista that makes coffee rather flawlessly, always a distinct taste to each other - sweet or bitter, scorching or cold, and so on.

just a way of earning money, that’s all; it’s good, so he can’t complain much about it. …other than the many, many eyes that stares at him from a distance, and the lot who asks his number. it’s the moment he opens his mouth that either, they’re disillusioned from their fantasy, or they only grow more enamored with his charm.

it’s something he’s grown used to at this point, as much as he doesn’t want to be, and, though he has the pleasure of seeing a familiar face here and there, he doesn’t have much to say about it.

and a new order comes to the counter. it’s 10:13 PM.

a new face. his shifts are longer than life itself, so he’s come to remember a few regulars time from time as a passing thought, so whenever one he doesn’t recognize pops up, they pique his interest for a bit before it fading just as swiftly.

you didn’t, and for good reason too.

“we’re closed.”

“i know, i know, but it’ll be real quick!”

he should’ve locked the door first thing after the last customer left. he heaves a sigh, his hand pinching the bridge of his nose as if it’ll do anything to whisk away the person at said door - aka you. his other hand held the stick end of the broom, sweeping up what others couldn’t even throw away even when it’s five inches away from them.

he digress.

“if it was real quick then you should’ve been here before we closed.”

“i mean… if you think about it, it technically helps the economy.”

“by a fucking perc- no, maybe even less than that.” for the umpteenth time in these five minutes alone, he sighs. he looks up, and you stare back at him. the quiet stretches on for a bit. “…will you leave right after if i do?”

you perk up. (cute.) “yeah!”

at that, he sets the broom aside on the counter and, with a wave of his hand, beckons you over just so he could get it over with. all you wanted was a pair of cake pops which he physically cringes at. it didn’t escape your notice.

“not a fan of sweets?”

“i’d rather keel over and die than eat one.”

“i’ll take that as a no then.” a puff of laughter leaves you and it somewhat lightens his mood. silence follows again and it’s the same as before - it’s not a bad type of quiet. “…the cookie ‘n crème one, two of them.”

“eh, not bad.”

“you tasted them before?”

“only once. …don’t give me that look, it wasn’t because i wanted to, alright?”

“s-sure… pft.”

he huffs. it feels like a load off of his shoulders and chest for some reason, and he’s not going to start question that now. it’s too late for that and every part of him is aching from standing around for too long, from evening to nightfall. it just seems that you make said pain fade a bit into the backdrop.

nothing much to think about.

the two of you start to meet each other a lot after that one night - at the same time. you keep coming in late, he caves in, the two of you banter for a bit, and then you leave with your cake pops. then the cycle repeats.

it’s a nice little routine to have at this point, and, as much as he likes to deny it, a bit of a highlight of his day.

you don’t come in every night, of course, yet those nights seems to be the most loneliest boring of all.

then those meetings ooze into evening, few, seldom, but he finds that he doesn’t mind that much if it means seeing you.

you find yourself being a part of his life and as he is to yours.

he makes your coffee a bit more bitter. and, yeah, sure, a bit might be a understatement from the person who likes bitter things… maybe that’s why your features scrunches up at the first sip and, from the first time, your gaze grazed over the counter, only to soon land on him - it’s satisfying seeing the way your face falls with flattened eyes.

he asks himself why he hasn’t turned you away that first night sometimes. eh, maybe it was just because you were fun to talk to, someone he can pass the time with.

just maybe.

xiao.

that one songwriter that’s always found at one of two places - the cafe or the flower shop. says that it gives him the inspiration he needs, and the truth of it is in the way his hand jots down word after word in his notepad, humming a quiet tune to himself.

he seems to fade into the backdrop whenever murmurs start to grow around him about him - eyes a pool one can drown in, eyeshadow a nice touch, his hair adding to his look. hey, at least some of their compliments (those were compliments, yes?) acts as some lyrics.

nothing for him to complain about - other than the sea of oohs and aahs he’s heard, aimed at him or one of his friends (which is putting it lightly, he thinks), the silence he’s always lived in is something he welcomes with a nod. not much that he wants to change, other than to pursue his dream.

and said dream makes space for one more person.

he’s starting to see you more often.

whenever he has a moment to spare after classes, you’re there. his spot at the corner of the café - the world around him falling quiet to the melody he’s testing, bittersweet and soft in his headphones, and then sees you not too far off from your own seat, taking a tentative sip of your coffee.

it proves not to be enough as a sudden wave of bitterness rushes on your tongue. xiao catches the way scara turns around, his shoulders shaking subtly.

his spot hidden away in pots and all sorts of flowers - there’s this burst of beauty he can’t pin, staring at how the petals swells, just shy of its time to bloom. he starts stringing a line of words together, enough to try and describe a simple sight into a lyric, only to then see you strolling in with a wave.

it’s as bright as the sun itself, shining through the panes of glass. xiao catches the way kazuha returns the gesture (with a bit more of his calmer energy.)

other than the fact that you’re new, he didn’t know much, and he wasn’t interested to. that’s the thing - all past tense. it’s the little things he starts to notice about you from a distance… as a bit creepy, as scara had so kindly put it, as it is.

he can’t find a reason to talk to you. that and neither does he feel is right to just walk up to you and start a conversation. so… maybe… for now… this’ll be alright.

of course, change is nature. nothing was going to stay the same forever just for familiarity, as much as he silently wished for.

he forgot a small item - a pencil, something he could easily replace. in memory? in feeling? as you walked up to him that one time, telling him that he left said item on his usual coffee table as you held it at the palm of your hand?

his mouth felt dry all of a sudden.

“…thanks,” is all he said. his hand slowly settled in yours, curled in, and, in record time, pulled back.

“no problem!” that smile of yours already lights up a fire on his skin, something that he can practically feel. he blows out a sigh as if the heat in him will seep out.

“if there’s nothing else then i’ll…” he’s already turned his head to the side, both an indication of his direction, and as to mask the color on his cheeks that he’d prefer if you didn’t notice.

“wait!”

and wait he did. he didn’t even notice how his hold on the strap to his case tightened just a bit, didn’t even feel the rough surface against his hand.

“oh, sorry that was, uh, a lot louder than it needed to be. wow.” the heat in your face is starting to set in, and, now, he didn’t quite mind feeling as warm as he did right now.

“it’s alright,” and nothing else than that.

“a bit awkward, but i’ve always seen you around and, well… i’d always thought you were pretty cool.” you’re scratching the back of your head at this point; it’s also at that exact same point he realized just he lik— admires you. “so i was wondering whether you’d like if we…”

you laid out your other hand to him.

“…be friends?”

he hesitates, his fingers curling into the palm of his hand, but only for a moment. xiao then recognizes the warmth in your hand sifting into his, and vice versa - tingles thrum through his skin.

it was from both your touch, and the smile on your face, it has to be.

“i’m [name].”

it took him a bit to recall his. “…xiao.”

“nice to meet you, xiao!”

and you said it in a way that made him think you meant it.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact smau #genshin smau #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x you #kazuha x reader #kazuha x you #xiao x reader #xiao x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you

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physalian · 2 months

Text

What No One Tells You About Writing #4 (100 Follower Special!)

Have you got any that deserve to be on these lists? Don’t be shy! Send ‘em over.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

*This list contains mentions of assault, #4

1. Zero cursing is better than censored cursing

I made the mistake in the early days of writing a self-censoring character, and every “curse” she said just took the teeth out of the rest of the statement. I’m talking gosh, darn, dang, etc, not world-specific idioms a la “scruffy nerf herder” or “dunderhead” instead of “dumbass”.

Look to any American TV show that so, so badly wants to use f*ck or sh*t but has to appease the sensitive conservatives who still somehow believe strong language is worse than graphic violence and horrifying psychological damage. For shame! Your characters can be angry without expletives, so rework your sentences to include equally damning insults that don’t resort to potty mouths if you’re concerned about ratings.

Or go full-throttle into the idioms of the world or the time period like Pirates of the Caribbean. Or just… don’t. There’s zero modern cursing in the Lord of the Rings adaptation and not a single sentence that censors itself. The dialogue is above vulgarity and feels more *fantastical* that way anyway.

2. “Yeah, you aren’t the target audience.”

It’s kind of hilarious seeing the range of reader reactions to two characters I intend to have a romantic relationship. Some will go “I ship it!” after the first page of them together… and another will go “wait, I thought they were just friends” up until they kiss. Sometimes you might be too subtle, other times it might be better to just accept that you can’t rewrite your entire book to please one naysayer.

When I’m pitched a fantasy adventure book that turns out to be a by-the-numbers romance where no one is allowed to be a peasant and every important character is royalty in some way, with a way cooler fantasy backdrop, I get severely disappointed. That doesn’t mean the book is bad, it just means I’m not the target audience.

3. There is no greater character sin than making them boring

Unless you live in the wacky world we find ourselves in where any flaws whatsoever are apparently harmful depictions of so-and-so and not at all written with things like ~nuance~. I will gush over your heinous villain committing atrocities because he’s *interesting*. I will not remember Bland Love Interest who’s a generic everyman with zero compelling or intriguing traits or flaws.

There’s another tumblr post out there that I cannot find that says something like this, and I believe the post goes “his crimes are fiction, my annoyance is real”. Swap annoyance for boredom and you get what I mean. So, I don’t care what your character does so long as they’re memorable. I will either root for their victory or their doom, but I do need *something* to root for.

4. The line between “gratuitous” and “respectful” is actually very thick

Less what no one tells *you* about writing and more what no one tells screenwriters. Y’all do realize you can write a character who experiences assault without actually writing the assault, right? Fade to black, have them mention it in their backstory, or have the horrific aftermath as they come to terms with it. An abrupt cut to this devastated character when it’s all over and they’re alone with themselves can be incredibly poignant and powerful. This goes with anything sensitive, especially if it’s not coming from experience.

If you want to write it or film it respectfully, romanticizing assault, for instance, is when it’s framed as if either character has earned or “deserves” it. If the narrative in any way argues that it's justified. The victim might have "earned" it for any of the BS reasons we use in the real world, or the perpetrator might've "earned" it because of temptation, desire, pressure to assert dominance, etc. Representation is important, but are you “representing” to shed light on a misunderstood and maligned topic, or are you doing it to satisfy a fetish or bias in yourself?

5. Don’t let your eyes get bigger than your stomach

Fantasy has no limitations, which means you can dig way deeper into the well of your worldbuilding than you realize, until you look up and realize you’re stuck down there. I have never seen a more obvious inevitable disaster looming than the pilot of GoT season 5. Why? Nobody has any plans. They’re all just led around by whatever side quest the writers throw them on, twiddling their thumbs until the writers deign to pull the trigger on the White Walkers.

To the point that what should be a major character can skip an entire season because his arc is meaningless. Everything in the last half of that show was one big “eventually” while the story toiled around in an ever-expanding cast of characters and set pieces (seriously, it’s hilarious how jarring the extended version of the theme music became compared to the pilot episode to fit all these locations).

When you have too many directionless characters, too many plot elements, too many ideas you want to fully mature and get their due spotlight and then somehow combine them all together for a common foe in the end, writing can get tedious and frustrating very quickly. Why, I imagine, the book series remains unfinished. Fantasy is great for being able to create such complex worlds, but don’t be the snake that eats its own tail trying too hard.

6. No one cares about your agenda if you insult them to push it

This deserves its own post but here we go. Peddling an agenda is a paradox: those who agree with you won’t need to be preached to, and those who you want to persuade will instead reject you further because they feel belittle and disrespected. This is why so many recent “strong female characters” fail on both sides of the aisle. Feminists see an annoying caricature of the movement they’re passionate about. Antifeminists see an insufferable, shallow, liberal mouthpiece when they just want to be entertained. You have failed both sides, congrats.

The answer? Write a strong, nuanced, well-developed character. Then make them a woman. I know this has been said before but this BS keeps happening so clearly the screenwriters aren’t listening. Entertain me first. Entertain me so well I don’t even realize I’m learning.

7. Today’s audiences won’t react the same way as tomorrow’s

Sometimes genres or tropes get oversaturated and need a few years to cool off before audiences are receptive to them again—teen dystopia, anyone?—that doesn’t mean your story is inherently bad because it’s unpopular (nor does it mean it’s amazing because it is popular).

You should always write the book you want to read, not the book that chases trends. I can pick up a well-written teen dystopia I’ve never read before and enjoy it. I can continue to ignore Divergent because it has nothing to say. Write the book you want to read, but then accept that you might make no money because no one else wants to read it, not because they think it’s bad. And, who knows? You might get a boom of chatter months or years down the line when readers stumble upon an uncut gem.

8. Your characters don’t age with you

Depending on how long you’ve been working on your world and what age you were when you started, the characters, concepts, morals, and story you set out to tell might no longer reflect who you want to be as an author when all is said and done. Writing can take years, some of which can be incredibly turbulent and life changing. I wrote the first draft of my first original novel in my freshman year of college. Those characters and that draft are now unrecognizable and has left a world I’ve poured my heart and soul into in limbo.

I’ve slowly creeped up my characters’ ages. My writing has matured dramatically. The themes I wanted to explore in the height of the 2016 election are just demoralizing now. That book was my therapeutic outlet and, as consequence, my characters sometimes reflect some awful moods and mindsets that I was in when writing them. But nothing in that world grows without me tending to it. It’s not alive. Despite all the work I’ve done, there’s still more to be done, maybe even restarting the plot from the ground up. When I think of what no one told me about writing, staring at characters designed by someone I’m not anymore is the hardest reality to accept.

—

If you think I missed something, check out parts 1-3 or toss your own hat into the ring. Give me romance tropes. Mystery, thriller, historical fiction, bildungsromans, memoires, children’s books, whatever you want! Give me stuff you wish you’d known before editing, publishing, marketing, and more.

Also, don’t forget to vote in the dialogue poll!

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fantasy #sci fi #character design #what no one tells you about writing

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