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teddynottss · 11 hours

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• - ARE YOU FLIRTING OR STARTING A FIGHT?- •

PAIRING(S): theodre nott x fem. reader

WARNING(S): smutt

SUMMARY: theodore and y/n are academic rivals, and when one time she gets into an argument with snape and gets detention, the slytherin boy finds a way to follow her there

A/N: thanks for 100 followers ily all 💓

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Everyone knew you and theodore were academic rivals, both of you had always been racing to be at the top of your classes for years now. However, you always were a few points ahead of him, so you always managed to find a way to brag about it.

You’d always rub your higher marked grades in front of his face, you’d tease him about it in the corridor, lunchtime, anytime, all the time. One class however, potions, was one you faced difficulty with.

Snape wasn’t the biggest fan of your house, Ravenclaw, neither was he of you. He gave you a hard time in his class, while on the other hand theo had it the way he liked.

One time in potions class, Draco gave Neville a potion which caused the Gryffindor boy to throw up slugs all over the room. This little show earned a good chuckle from pretty much everyone, and seeing as Snape wasn’t really trying to do anything about it, you finally snapped. “What the hell is going on?” you shout. “Calm yourself, ms.” Snape answered. “No, no! Look what hes doing to him, do something about it!” “Alright, shush now. This is my class, my business to handle, my choices to make and take.” He said, more angrily now.

“This is bullshit!” You shout. “All right, detention ms!” Snape shouts angrily. Just then, theodore punches blaise in the face, making his nose bleed. Holding his face, blaise speaks “what the actual fuck was that for?”. Theo then goes for another punch and thats when snape stops him using his wand, “alright nott, detention for you too!” you could see the little smirk appearing on theo’s lips as snape spoke.

Later ~

The both of you had to spend your night cleaning the library for detention, wonderful. You got there and to your surprise, theo was already there before you. You ignore him and immediately get to work, you wanted to be done and out of here in no time.

As you’re putting some of the books back, he approaches you. “You’re not going to ignore me the whole night right?” to that you dont answer. “But really, Longbottom, out of all people?” He chuckles. “What are you trying to say, neville is my friend and everyone always finds a way to make fun of him so i will not allow that to happen in my presence.”

You leave the slytherin boy in shock and he turns back to keep working on his part. After a while, he speaks again “You know that this whole problem thing with snape will cause you to fail his class?” he speaks.

“I do.” You scoff. “That means i have a higher chance of getting ahead of you and being at the top of the grade this year.”he teases. “I dont even fucking care nott.” You speak as you keep your face to the front, putting the books back in place. “But that wont happen.” He adds. You turn to him confused, “huh?”. “That wont happen i said.” He speaks.” “And how come?” you ask. “Listen to me, we’ve been academic rivals for years, every single time i was so close to beating you, but i never did, do you ever wonder how?”

You don’t speak, as you cant quiet understand what he’s talking about. He then proceeds to continue “i did it on purpose, i knew how much it matters to you, i read your diary in our first year saying how you were so bad at everything you’ve tried and that studying was the only thing you were good at, thats why i’d write the wrong answers on purpose. Id also steal potter’s invisibility cloak to sneak into the classrooms and change your wrong answers.”

“There is no way,” you say hesitantly unsure what to say instead. “Yes, you need to believe me.” “What the fuck, are you flirting with me or tryna start a fight?” He tilts your chin to look up at him, “i never wanna fight with you, i just want you to be happy.”

Just then you lean in closer and connect your lips. He kisses you back, tongues colliding, his hands land on your hips and he pulls you in closer. He pins you to the bookshelf and starts leaving wet, hungry kisses on your neck and collarbone. You moan at the feeling and grab his hair, to which he responds by biting the skin on your neck, slowly, then more aggressively. “Theo, i wanna thank you for what you did” you speak in between moans. “I wanna pleasure you please.” “You’ll only pleasure me by doing what i ask you to do, let me give you head until you forget your name, cara mia.”

Just then he lifts you so that your legs rest on his shoulders, he raises your skirt and lowers you panties. “God you’re already so fucking wet f’me bella.” He says as he begins trailing kisses around your pussy. You arch your back a bit, wanting him to eat you out already to which he chuckles before he begins teasing your folds with his tongue.

He licks your folds then keeps a hand on your thigh to make sure you don’t fall before he adds three fingers inside you all in one go. “HOLY FUCKKKK” you scream and squirm and squeeze around him, only burying his face deeper into your pussy as his tongue and fingers work in sync. You feel your climax building already, “im gonna cum, theo.” You moan as theo speeds his movements. “FUCKK, OH SHIT YEAH JUST LIKE THAT.”

You release and theo licks you clean. He then shows you some of your come on his fingers and he makes you lick them off his fingers. “You taste so fucking good,” he speaks, kissing you. You moan into his mouth then speak “let me give you head, please, i promise to swallow everything.” He breaks the kiss and smiles at you before beginning to remove his pants. You kneel between the boy, who’s now sat on a chair, and find the lace of his boxers.

You pull them down to reveal his hard, throbbing cock. You begin leaving trails of kisses along his v line. Then, you grab his cock and begin massaging it. He leans down to kiss you as you’re playing with him. You palm him and feel his dick twitch at your touch, then you take most of his length in one go. He moans loudly at the feeling as you lick around, sucking better than ever.

You allow your head to move up and down as you try to take more of his length, your nails digging into his thighs. He tugs at your hair, his fingers playing with your brown curls. The slytherin boy then pushes your head completely making his cock hit the back of your throat.

You gag loudly, the sound sending shivers down theos body. As a result, he throws his head back, moaning as you quicken your moves. “Ohhh, my god ‘hm, yeah, please.. mm.. hmh.. fuckkk just like that principessa.” The boy now a whining, whimpering mess. him moaning like that oml.

Without warning, he cums into your mouth. You look up at him between your lashes, your eyes filled with tears. He smiles down at you, watching you swallow everything. He then carries you and places you on his lap, “good girl, that was fucking awesome, tesoro (sweetheart).”

“I wanna make you cum one more time tonight, i know you have one left.” he speaks. “Only if you promise to come inside me.” You announce. He chuckles and nods as he begins removing your shirt. He removes it then proceeds to remove your bra.

Your boobs fly out, bouncing, also revealing your hard tits. He immediately lays his mouth on your breast, pleasuring your left boob, licking and sucking on it endlessly. He also used his other hand to pinch and play with your tit on the other side. This man, lord. He was only playing with your boobs and he was already gonna throw you over the edge again.

He then pleasured the other boob similarly, licking, sucking, and biting before he started leaving a trail of kisses all the way up to your neck. He then held your hips and slowly begin lowering you onto him, you were able to get most of him in the first time. Then, he gave you time to adjust before pushing more of himself in. You moan when you have his whole length in and then when you get used to his size, you begin riding him.

As you begin riding him slowly and carefully, he groans slightly at the feeling. Theo then places his fingers on your clit and starts rubbing hard which makes you feel yourself cum start to form. “Im gonna cum again teddy..” you announce. “Do it, f’me cara mia.” You speed your movements and so does he, you begin moaning at the speed of things to which he kisses you to stop the moans from being too loud.

Then, theo uses his hips to thrust deeper into your so that you’re practically bouncing on him. That is followed by him sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck, biting and licking it until you scream as you release onto him. As he’s helping you ride out your climax, you moan his name making him groan and cum inside of you.

The boy then grabs your face and kisses you hard, “i fucking loved that,” he speaks. “So did i” you smile back at him. Just then, you hear a sound coming from somewhere to which you both jump in fear and begin getting dressed. You manage to put your skirt and shirt on, but the slytherin boy only his pants before mr lupin appears.

His eyes widen in surprise at the site of the boy half naked, “a little hot mr nott?” “uhh.. yes sir” he says hesitantly. Remus then chuckles, “im gonna let it slide this time but please try to do it in a more private place and finish your duties too.” You both nod before moving back to your jobs.

#harry potter #slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott fanfiction #slytherin boys #smut #theodore nott x reader

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reduxulousoctopus · 2 days

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X-Men '97, Post-Episode 7, ~2500 words Morpherine established relationship, missing scene (unless the show actually does explore what happened during that fight, in which case boy is there egg on my face).

I follow established show canon by referring to Morph as he/him in diegetic works (fanfic and fan art) and they/them in non-diegetic works (my episode analyses and reblogs), because that's the stupidest option and, like Morph, I am also an enby with a terrible sense of humor.

Now come watch me struggle to write two whole lines of dialogue for one of my favorite characters in the series, Beast, because Me Too Stupid to Write Smart Talk Good.

“You wanna explain what the hell happened back there?”

Although he considers pretending he didn’t hear the question, Morph reluctantly glances across the center aisle of the Blackbird to see Logan glaring back at him with an expression as hard as the adamantium underneath it. Although it’s a look he’s seen plenty of times before as an innocent bystander, Morph has only been the target of that glare on a handful of occasions. Usually when he’s severely fucked something up. Or when Logan is completely out-of-his-mind, cuckoo-bananas worried about him.

Morph suspects that this time, it’s a little Column A, a little Column B.

A wiser person might realize they were in a hole and stop digging; Morph smirks and asks, “What, the Summers Family Reunion? Well, you see, when a man and the clone of his wife love each other very much…” Morph chuckles. “By the way, this might be a bit creepy to say as one of his honorary uncles, but Baby Nathan grew up to be a serious hottie—emphasis on serious.”

No laugh. Okay, maybe that wasn’t his best material, but not even a lip twitch? Logan must be pissed.

Morph sighs and slouches in his seat. God, he doesn’t want to talk about this right now. Or maybe ever. He can feel his throat literally closing up to stop the words from coming out.

When enough time has passed that what little patience Logan had left in the tap completely runs dry, he goes right for the jugular: “I thought you were dead. Again.”

Morph winces.

“I saw that… ‘Trask Sentinel’ blow your goddamn head off. Then, next thing I know, you’re up and walkin’ around like nothing happened.”

“Not that you’re complaining, right?” Morph asks with a weak attempt at a laugh. “You know what they say about gift horses. Although, you’d think the lesson from the Trojan War would be that you should look gift horses in the mouth.”

From the seat behind him, Morph hears: “Although it’s a common misconception, that phrase actually has nothing to do with the Trojan Horse. The proverbial ‘gift horse’ is a literal, living horse, and to look it in the mouth—”

“With all those books you read,” Logan grumbles, “I thought at least one of them would've taught you it's rude to eavesdrop.”

“It would be difficult not to overhear, given the two of you are speaking quite loudly in a confined space while surrounded by people,” Beast points out. “Have you considered that this perhaps isn’t the best venue for a private conversation?”

“He is a super-genius. We’d better listen to him,” Morph tells Logan. “We’ll talk later, okay big guy?”

The stubborn set of that heavy jaw says Logan knows damn well ‘later’ means ‘never,’ and he isn’t gonna let Morph weasel out of this that easy. “If you ever want me to let you off this plane, you’ll talk now.”

“Let me?” Morph scoffs. He transforms into Quicksilver, puts on his best smug speedster grin, and says, “Just try and stop me, slowpoke.”

To his shock, Logan actually flinches. It’s a subtle thing, Morph might not have even noticed if he didn’t know Logan so well. The cause eludes him, however—until Morph remembers that he looked like Maximoff when the Thrask Sentinel… when everything went dark and quiet for a few seconds.

Funny. There was a time when Morph, blinded by youthful naivety and hero-worship, would have insisted Wolverine wasn’t afraid of anything.

Returning to his default form, Morph mutters out an apology. He tries to imagine what it would be like to see Logan die, only for him to get up a few seconds later and act like nothing happened. With that healing factor of his, they’ve gotten damned close to that exact scenario more than a few times.

How much worse would it feel, if Logan had kept his quick-healing abilities secret and Morph had to find out the hard way?

Morph takes a breath, looks out the window at the black clouds rushing by, and starts from the beginning.

“You know how most of us don’t know we’re mutants until we hit puberty, and our powers manifest? Well… I didn’t have to wait that long. Problem is, since I was just a baby, I had no idea how to control my powers—no more than a normal baby is born knowing how to walk or talk.

He holds out his hands with his palms cupped together to form a shallow, makeshift bowl.

“When I was born, I looked like a wriggling lump of white clay, about yay-big. No arms or legs, no face, no ears, no eyes. Just a mouth that would appear somewhere on my body whenever I was hungry or wanted to cry.”

Whatever Logan was expecting to hear, from the look on his face, it clearly wasn’t that.

“But even at that tender age, someone clearly recognized my star potential. I was only two days old when I made my media debut: Severely Deformed MUTANT Born In Pittsburgh Hospital.” Morph shrugs. “Not the most positive review, I’ll admit, but you know what they say: all publicity is good publicity. After all, that’s how the professor found me.”

Logan’s frown returns, more confused than angry. “You told me you didn’t meet Xavier until you were thirteen—after your mom passed.”

“That’s when I moved to the Institute. Turns out we actually met quite a lot earlier than I remembered, which is pretty embarrassing. Ideally, you don’t want to meet your future high school principal, college instructor, mentor, and world famous civil rights leader while wearing a diaper. Even worse, I was wearing a diaper, too—and I told him, mister, one of us is going to have to go home and change his outfit and it sure isn’t going to be me.”

That gets him a smile and a huff of a laugh, which would be an encouraging sign if he didn’t know how the story ends.

“So Xavier talked to my parents, explained the whole ‘mutant thing.’ Dad wasn’t happy. Then again, I’m not sure he ever was. He would have been disappointed to have a girl—a sentient lump of polymorphic biomass was right out. Thankfully, Xavier was able to use his telepathy to coach me through my very first transformation. He showed me how to turn into a normal baby boy, who would eventually grow up to look like this.”

Morph transforms into his old default, the one he still uses whenever he wants to pass: pale (although not that pale) skin, brown eyes, brown hair, hooked nose, pointed chin, gaunt cheeks, arched brows. Not exactly Fabio, but it’s the face Logan used to know him by—the face he sometimes worries Logan might secretly still prefer.

“Then he put some psychic blocks in place to limit my powers to something a bit more… manageable. Don’t give me that look. It sounds shady, but the professor messing with my head was the only reason I got to have a normal, happy childhood with my parents. God only knows what would have happened otherwise—if I’d even be alive now.”

The worry and suspicion that appeared on Logan’s face at the mention of psychic tampering grudgingly fade away. “When did you find out?” he asks instead.

“A couple months after the professor… y’know,” Morph sighs. “I hacked his personal files. Since he wouldn’t be around anymore to help you recover your memories, I hoped that maybe I could find something small he overlooked, some clue that might give us an idea where to look next.”

Logan’s eyes widen and his mouth goes slightly slack. “Morph…”

“I didn’t find anything, before you get excited. Not about you, anyway. Sure found out a lot about myself, though—a lot more than I was bargaining for.”

“That’s when your default form changed,” Logan realizes.

“Yeah. It was kind of hard to think of this,” Morph replies, gesturing at the face of his human-passing form, “as my ‘real’ face after that. Not that my new look is any more real, of course.”

“Who else knows?”

“Other than our friends listening to this conversation right now?” Morph asks pointedly, causing an entire plane full of X-Men to each make their best attempt at looking busy. Nightcrawler’s method of peering thoughtfully at the radio controls with one hand on his chin is particularly masterful—Logan mentioned he used to perform in a circus, so it’s no wonder he’s got such a good instinct for stage-business. “I told Hank and Moira not long after I found out. Seemed like a bad idea to keep that information from my doctors. Especially when one of them is also my therapist.”

At receiving a glare from Logan, Beast develops a sudden and convenient fascination with the view through the Blackbird’s window.

“But you didn’t want anyone else to know.” Logan could accept that, even if he doesn’t like it. Nothing personal. A man’s business is man's business, after all—even for a not-quite-man like Morph.

Too bad it wouldn’t be the truth; no more ‘real’ than any face that Morph wears.

“I didn’t want you to know.”

Morph can handle Logan’s anger, no problem. That’s almost charming, after all these years. But it’s the flicker of hurt, just like that little flinch earlier, that really cuts him to the quick.

“Not because I don’t trust you, or want to keep things from you or anything, it’s just… I didn’t—I couldn’t—”

He sighs and looks away again. He transforms back into his new default: smooth white skin, mask-like face. Obviously inhuman.

Still a lot more human than he looked when he was born, though.

“So, yeah. That’s why I’ve apparently gained the ability to survive having my head blown off. It sure would have been handy to know that my organs were optional the last time a Sentinel put me down. Now, instead of being out of commission for two years I’ll never get back, I can just squish myself back together and keep on keepin’ on.”

Logan doesn’t respond, and slowly, the mutter of other conversations step in to fill the void. Morph stares at nothing, sick with nerves. It’s deeply unfair that he can still feel nauseous even though he doesn’t have a stomach anymore.

He would say it’s all in his head, but if he can survive without one, maybe he doesn’t have a brain, either.

Badum-tch.

Good line. Hopefully he’ll remember it after the existential horror wears off, in the brief window when things will be funny again before the heartbreak sinks in.

Because there’s dropping a bombshell on a relationship—then there’s dropping a fucking nuke.

Oh God. There isn’t going to be a window, is there?

“Morph. Look at me.”

Although he considers pretending he didn’t hear the command, Morph reluctantly glances across the center aisle of the Blackbird to see Logan looking back at him with an expression as soft as the heart he usually tries to hide.

“No matter what you look like, there’s one thing you’ve never been able to change,” Logan tells him. “That’s real enough for me.”

A wiser person might realize they were in a hole and stop digging; Morph can’t stop himself from opening his big stupid mouth. No wonder that was the one feature even Baby Morph knew to give himself. “There are more blocks Xavier left behind that I haven’t pushed through, yet. Maybe I’ll even figure out how to change my scent, someday.”

From the look on his face, Logan clearly hadn’t considered that possibility. Morph immediately wishes he could take it back, feeling like he’s just tarnished something sacred.

It’s always been strangely intimate, the way Logan can recognize him by scent alone. Even from the beginning, when Morph decided to pull a prank on the grumpy new recruit, only for Wolverine to sniff him out mere seconds into his planned routine—it was as if, like the Emperor’s New Clothes, he suddenly realized he had been naked the entire time.

Another, smarter shapeshifter might have avoided Logan after that; Morph couldn’t get enough.

One-sided pestering turned into an unlikely friendship, turned into friends-with-benefits, turned into… whatever they have now. That which dares not speak its name.

The thought of losing that connection, the idea that someday he may be able to change himself so thoroughly that even Logan won’t be able to recognize him anymore… It’s too awful. Cursed knowledge. Like learning about the solar cycle when he was a kid, and suddenly having the horrible realization: if even the sun is going to die someday, what makes him so sure Mom will get better?

Out of the corner of his eye, Morph sees Logan’s hand start to move, stop, then start again, reaching across the aisle towards him. For a insane, terrifying moment, he thinks Logan’s about to hold his hand, outing them in front of God, the other X-Men, and everybody—but of course, that enormous, rough mitt lands on his shoulder instead. Perfectly platonic, approved for all audiences by S&P.

Though they’re shooting through the air at supersonic speed, under the heavy weight of that hand, Morph feels rooted to stable ground. He closes his eyes and takes a few slow breaths he doesn’t actually need, with lungs he only has when he remembers to make himself some.

If there are any people left when the sun finally burns out in a few billion years, they’ll still be telling each other jokes as they go into that endless good night. Just think of the money we’ll save on sunscreen. Maybe, but you know the light-bulb companies are gonna take us to the cleaners. Ha ha, freeze frame, theme song, end credits.

Even as her body slowly wasted away under the combined onslaught of cancer and chemo, Mom always laughed at his jokes, no matter how many times she heard the one about the chicken who crossed the road. His most appreciative audience, to the very last curtain call.

The world is pretty fucking scary right now, and only getting scarier. Sinister. Genosha. Losing Gambit. Sentinels again, in all new and even more monstrous forms. Even worse: total war between humans and mutants looming over the horizon, shaking the ground with each step, getting closer and more inevitable every time someone mentions it, like a demon whose power grows every time you says its name.

But just because things are scary doesn’t mean the world's turning into a horror movie, and just because things are sad doesn’t make it a tragedy. Everyone gets to choose the genre of their life story—and Morph will always pick comedy.

He gives the hand on his shoulder a friendly pat, and uses the motion to disguise a slightly more-than-friendly squeeze. “I’m alright, just a little airsick. I think it’s making me maudlin.”

As he pulls his hand back, Logan frowns a little in confusion—he knows Morph is experienced enough in the air that he shouldn’t be getting nauseous over what are, for the Blackbird, barely above pleasure-cruise speeds.

“How unfair is that, by the way?” Morph asks. “I don’t even have a stomach right now.”

Logan chuckles. Nah, baby, don’t give it up for me that easy, Morph thinks, fighting a grin. You gotta make me work for it a little…

He needn’t have worried, though. When he does make it to the punchline, Logan laughs so hard that he snorts, the laugh-lines Morph has personally carved into that seemingly indestructible face creasing and growing deeper still. And as their friends who Definitely Weren’t Eavesdropping join in—even Rogue, so teary and congested that her laughs would sound like sobs if she wasn’t smiling—Morph knows all their attempts to hide their relationship have been for nothing, because there’s no way that all the love he feels for Logan in that moment isn’t writ large all over whichever face he's wearing right now.

That’s real enough for him.

#x men 97 #x men #morph #wolverine #morpherine #my stuff #wait what this actually ended up good #have I actually been a good writer this whole time and just too depressed to notice?#what the fuck that's not fair

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anthrofreshtodeath · 4 months

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I found this great podcast about scandals in the publishing world - super interesting and engaging. But every episode they’ve got an ad for a grammar grouch podcast and I don’t know how many times I can be hurt 😭

#It’s about books and writing so you know- not shocking #but so many of you writing hoes pick this way to be racist because it’s subtle #and i’m tired of it #anyway it’s called Missing Pages it’s good #the publishing podcast not the grammar police podcast

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hopecomesbacktolife · 2 months

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I’m not going to reblog the post itself because I don’t want that behavior on my blog, but oh my god I just saw a post about “looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3” and good lord the amount of bad takes both in that post and in the notes?? I have to just ramble about this for a moment because oh my god. it was ludicrous.

people were complaining that, and get this, unfinished fics exist. and that if you read an unfinished fic you’ll have to, get this, wait to read more until it’s published next. they were allll up in arms that there’s fics for a character that don’t cater to their specific interests. that they involve other characters and either do/don’t put them in a romantic relationship when they want the opposite for the character.

like at this point, most of you people in the notes on that post are 1) just being mean and condescending about FREE WORKS you can, may I remind you, READ FOR FREE and EXIT at ANY time! if you don’t like it!, don’t read it!, it’s so simple!, and 2) straight up do not know how ao3 works lmao

like I saw soooo many people in the notes complaining about a certain ship, dynamic, tag, etc, and like… y’all know you can filter by romantic vs platonic pairings, by ratings, by excluding certain tags or other qualifiers, etc etc etc… you know about ao3’s actually incredibly usable filtering and searching system… right… right??

at this point I’m just convinced a lot of these people are spoiled by large fandoms with 100k+ works for their characters and have decided to just be mean and condescending for no reason on main, about literally free fan works you can read for free any time that people spend hours and hours pouring their free time into out of sheer love for their craft. cuckoo bananas behavior if you ask me 🫠

I was legit so close to commenting that maybe they should try shipping two characters with <10 fics, with 0 fics, try liking a rare pair, try hyperfocusing on a character or niche type of fandom with a tiny but lovely circle of fans, and stop treating fan works and fic as Content TM that they deserve to have handed to them that caters to exactly what they want for free and maybe they’ll calm down lmao

like y’all aren’t cool you’re just being mean. we fundamentally approach fic in wildly different ways and honestly the way you do sounds exhausting. literally could not be me, I’m to busy finding joy in shared love for characters and not flipping the table in a rage because there’s one (1) element of the fic that isn’t specifically catered to me, maybe try that and you’ll feel better, hmm?

and yeah I’m aware that last sentence is me being condescending towards them, but frankly it’s warranted when so many people are being that mean and haughty for no reason lmao but truly those takes were horrific. fellow fic writers and even fellow fic readers I interact with, am mutuals with, authors whose works I read, readers who comment and interact with my works, fans of niche fandom subsets that run in the same circles as me— I hope you know this is so wildly not how I approach fics, I love just finding fics for my characters and forming these lil communities where we share our interests and love for them and hype each other up. I love what we have in these fandom niches and I hope you know I would never dream of being so mean and condescending towards y’all. fic writers and readers and fan communities are so special and I cherish it even if clearly there’s people in the notes on that other post who don’t know how to do that lmao. I love your unfinished WIPs, I love your fics that may only partially be what I’m looking for, I love when you write characters in a way I wouldn’t expect but shows your love for your particular headcanon, I love the variety and diversity and variance in fic. I love us. genuinely. fic writer moots I am hugging all of you and I frequently reread your works, even the unfinished ones. ♡

#personal #god this turned into a rant but sometimes I’m just shocked by how.. mean and condescending and holier-than-thou some people can be about fic #about works people write FOR FREE because they LOVE a character/ dynamic/ etc so much they can’t NOT let that love pour out into a fic tjat #once again you can READ FOR FREE HELLO #like god. maybe those people need to try not being a condescending bench (to quote Eleanor) and maybe they’ll feel better and be able to ac #tually participate in the wonder and joy and delight that is fan communities and fic communities idk man #I’m convinced some of it is people being spoiled by large fandoms and also not knowing how ao3 works at all #but like. this is not a streaming service this is an ARCHIVE it is a LIBRARY do you know how to use a LIBRARY #hello??? if you don’t like a book you can return it and borrow another???? not scribble in the margins about how you don’t like it???#like literally w h a t.#unhinged behavior and not in a cute way.#being mean isn’t cute it’s just being mean. condescension won’t magically make your dream fic scenarios appear. sorry (not sorry tho)#anyways. there was no way in hellllll! I was going to reblog that post and bring that whole mess to my blog. so instead. making my own post #(somewhat like people who can’t find fic they want could also just make their own but yknow 🤭💋)#anyways fellow fic writers and readers I interact with and am friends with ily ily and pls know I never think of your works like that in a #million years ok ❤️❣️❤️ I’m sorry some people are Mean I’m so glad the people I know who are fic writers + readers aren’t like that ty ty

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mbirnsings-71 · 10 days

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Life is all fun and dandy until I start writing an Essay on John Constantine of all people that's how you know The brain rot is all consuming

#it is to the point where I can write almost 1k words about the man in 30 minutes #which is shocking so like if this essay ends up being longer than the rise of the third army one (which isn't done! I had to return the book #to the library! i do have to pull up the online version of it to finish that essay-)#please don't worry if the John constantine essay gets to over 19k words that's how you know it's been a successful brain rot

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numbknee · 1 year

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South park fan

#alas….unfortunately I am #ask #anon #tag edit: oof yeah probs shouldn’t have rambled in the tags about writing sp fics on that prev post op got mad at me :(#in all fairness I used to be the exact same way and then I actually watched the show #and then begrudgingly had to acknowledge the writing was actually good #the show has a lot of shitty ppl who are fans but the reasons they like the show #like using Cartman’s antisemitism to justify their own bigotry #are 1000% NOT the same reasons I like the show #it’s very hit or miss and some eps are absolutely vile but the ones that hit #have some damn good writing. there’s a reason why trey parker is so prolific. the guy knows his shit #not only in tv writing but songwriting and writing the book of mormon #which won best musical so. you have to admit he’s talented at his craft even if some of the shit he writes makes me wanna throw up #because he specifically wrote it to make the audience uncomfortable. he and matt stone are provocateurs #but if you listen to the commentary or see the show beyond a surface level you’ll see it has a surprising amount of heart #I know that’s shocking for a non-fan for me to acknowledge that but. idk man don’t harass me over it you can block me if you’re #that uncomfortable #ok tag ramble over #FUCK TAG EDIT AGAIN: yeah I deleted my reblog op was getting upset and I don’t wanna invite harassment towards myself or him #I’m not about to fuck with anti sp ppl esp minors I don’t have a death wish

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musical-chick-13 · 2 years

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The existence of this Rosaline movie makes me so MAD, because SHE WAS NEVER IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ROMEO. SHE TOOK A VOW OF CHASTITY, AND SAID THAT SHE WAS JUST GONNA NOT BE IN LOVE.

SHE. REJECTED. HIM.

SHE WAS NEVER INTERESTED IN BEING WITH HIM AT ALL.

And then they just...make a whole movie from her supposed perspective (which is loosely based on a book which...hoo boy we’ll get to that in a second), where the premise is that she’s jealous and wants to break him and Juliet up? That she’s so in love that she has to win him over again? (Also, how do they justify her knowing that they’re together? The entire point is that no one knows Romeo and Juliet are in love?? I know this is an adaptation, but Jesus Christ.)

WHY DID YOU PICK THIS CHARACTER. TO HAVE THIS STORY WITH. THE WHOLE POINT OF HER CHARACTER IS THAT SHE CHOOSES NOT TO BE WITH HIM. THAT’S WHAT OPENS THE DOOR TO HIM MEETING JULIET. IF ROSALINE IS DEEPLY INTO ROMEO, THE ENTIRE PLAY DOESN’T WORK.

Are we saying that she was just “““playing hard to get”””? That she was toying with his heart for fun? That when she told him no, she really meant “yes”?? I THOUGHT WE LEFT THAT BEHIND OVER THE COURSE OF THE LAST DECADE, I THOUGHT WE DECIDED THAT WAS BAD???!!?

Don’t even get me started on the book this is based on, where that general premise is that Rosaline is just an Innocent Average Girl, and her cousin who is Beautiful™ and vOLaTiLeLY uNsTAbLe and cRaZy comes and “takes” her poor unsuspecting boyfriend who is completely blameless for his own terrible behavior away from her while being called a “slut” the whole time. (I doubt much of this carried over into the actual movie, because that’s being billed as an ironic rom-com, and I highly doubt ANYONE would try to make that genre work while keeping this premise 100% intact.)

WHY WOULD YOU EXPAND THIS CHARACTER LIKE THIS. WHY. WE STUDY THIS PLAY IN SCHOOL AS AN EXAMPLE OF LITERARY STRUCTURE AND POETIC LANGUAGE AND FORESHADOWING AND HOW TO WRITE A TRAGIC NARRATIVE AND FOR WHAT. FOR PEOPLE TO NOT TAKE AWAY ANY OF THE INTENDED MEANING FROM THIS PLAY???!?!?!? I AM SCREAMING SO HARD I WILL BREAK THE EARTH’S CRUST UNTIL I AM SUBSUMED INTO HELL.

If you’re going to adapt something, you’ve gotta make it clear that you have some significant understanding of the original work. Retellings are fine! They can even have different functions or deconstruct tropes or be unexpectedly edgy! But it’s 1000% obvious when you don’t have any knowledge or engagement with the source material, and that is a problem. It’s ignorant, it’s lazy, and everyone involved deserves better.

#also like...juliet has been praised as a compelling and well-rounded theatrical heroine with clear goals by literary scholars for a LONG #time. you don't get to just...ignore that and say 'lol nope she's just cRaZy instead'#am I a LITTLE sensitive when it comes to people adapting shakespeare?? maybe. but also I don't care.#is it just because people are thirsting over That One Guy?? is that it?? is that why this movie was made???? I hate it here.#ANYWAY you want an actually GOOD expansion of rosaline's character that gives her Secret Feelings For Someone that she can't say #out loud because of a JUSTIFIED narrative reason and also gives her a well-developed #tentative-allies-to-lovers romance story watch still star-crossed #(which is also apparently based on a book. which I sadly have not read. maybe it'll be the next thing on my reading list)#GOD this is the 'lady macbeth is a stoic badass who never really loved her husband' all over again but like. in the opposite direction #UGH after juliet did the same ''she was just playing COY and HARD TO GET' thing too and I hate it #WHY CAN'T WE JUST HAVE WOMEN REJECT MEN? WHY IS THAT SO HARD FOR PEOPLE TO WRITE???#we could EVEN have a story about rosaline GENUINELY NEVER FALLING IN LOVE because she doesn't want to!!#wow shocking I know!#okay I'm done now #sorry #salty mc13 is salty #anti rosaline movie #idk how the fuck to tag this #romeo and juliet

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khalesci · 7 months

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today the mood is personally beefing with george because of certain things he wrote into the first book and how there were moments where he genuinely attempted to justify everything drogo was doing to dany with throwaway shit along the lines of "well she liked it sometimes"

#♛ ooc. ⊱ ❝ 𝘖𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪. ❞#abuse tw #I don't even know where to begin unpacking that and honestly I don't think I want to #bc truly some of his decisions regarding dany in the books are SO vile #like yes sometimes he did hit the mark and show the reality of her having to convince herself that her situation was okay #and that really this was more akin to something like 'stockholm syndrome' than anything #but he ruins whatever point he was trying to make with certain scenes that blatantly f*tishize her and her relationship with drogo #which on a broader point is part of why I have a MASSIVE issue with the ages he chooses for his characters #bc it's really fucking gross to highlight a character's young age for shock value #then turn around and immediately forget about that to write them like an adult and f*tishize them in a way that gives NOTHING to that point #that's why I *always* prefer the show's timeline and ages better because you can still have that narrative and make it impactful #without being extremely fucking gross about a character and then being like 'lol they're 15 :)'#I need to stop myself or these tags will be a mile long but damn I am feeling this so strongly again today #like trust me I could go into detail about both of these things and why they don't sit well with me #but I will protect the dash's eyes esp for those who haven't read the atrocities in the books sdfjfsdjlkllkj

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pokimoko · 2 years

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OH DUDE YESSS I love behind the scenes looks at fics Ohh my god 👁👁 What are some of your favorite details/parallels/moments from in memory of that you would love to talk about? (And if they end up tying into other stories feel free to infodump ab that as well I am all ears)

Oh, I'm so glad you asked. *thumps book binder bursting with notes onto table* Get ready, this is gonna get long. Oh, and don't let this folder fool you, this is far from organised. For anyone else following me who hasn't read the story and would like to, warning, there are spoilers ahead:

Okay first of all, there's the 'sunny morning hello' / 'cloudy afternoon goodbye' parallel that you pointed out in your comment. Originally, I put more of a focus on the fact the sun was going down in the last part, because in 'The Ode to Remembrance' there's the line "at the going down of the sun and in the morning, we will remember them", so I wanted to make a subtle reference to that. And also originally it actually started raining after Randall was gone, and Marc took the time to admire it rather than shy away from it; there was a little rainbow and everything.

But! But then my brain was like "why don't we have the story start with Marc meeting his brother, so that the story acts as a chart of Randall from beginning to end, and to give the reader some time with Randall before the cave so they're sad when we inevitably lose him" and welp, couldn't refuse that idea could I? I've always loved first and last lines being a reflection of each other, it scratches an itch in my brain. In the last scene, the sun's still on the process of going down, but I decided to have the clouds part and to have the sun shine of him to represent him making peace with his past, and to show he was allowing himself to move on from that rainy day. I am not immune to pathetic fallacy. (I'll admit, I listened to 'Más Allá Del Sol' a few times while writing the final scene. Thanks to episode 5, I now have a kneejerk reaction to get upset when I listen to it. And also, y'know, the sun motif.)

I personally am very in love with the height chart part. I was trying to think of an image for the header and that came to me with no warning or lead-up (I was in the middle of hugging my mum at the time and gosh, the fact I had to continue acting normal after getting hit with that idea was definitely something. And yes, I do think about my fics while doing normal things. The only problem is that it leads to conversations like this: "oh crap, I'm so sorry, I didn't hear a word of that, I kinda zoned out, I was thinking about Mayan gods" "...Why were you thinking about Mayan gods?" "Uh" *sweats nervously*).

But anyway! The height chart. They mark the passing of time, but they also act as a preservation of what has come before. And of course they're associated with childhood and growing up. Eventually you reach the point where you stop measuring, because you've grown as much as you ever will, and then it remains simply to act as a reminder. Marc's chart is like an old journal entry; you don't remember writing it, or even the context for it, but you know it's your words, written by someone you used to be. But Randall's chart is like an unfinished sentence, (or one that in its shortness tells you everything...'for sale: baby shoes, never worn'). His chart will never be finished, but the indents remain, a reminder of where his story came to a stop.

This is where the Peter Pan inspiration came in. I didn't take inspiration from the story itself, but rather its own inspiration. When J.M. Barrie was 6, his 13 year old brother David died, a day before his 14th birthday. His mother was distraught, having always favoured David, but she took comfort in the idea that he would remain a young boy forever, never growing any older. This concept stuck with Barrie, and he eventually went on to write a story about a boy who would never grow up. In a way, it was his way to cope with what had happened.

For Marc, Randall's youth is a haunting reminder. Marc will grow older, but his brother will always be the same. The distance between them grows with each passing year. As a teenager, there would have come a day that Marc realised his brother had been dead longer than he'd ever been alive. Then that Steven had been around longer. That he'd known Layla longer than he ever knew his brother. Times goes on, and Randall's life in comparison to his own grows smaller and smaller, until it is only a tiny portion, barely a blip. But the marks remain. The distance that time brings only makes it harder for Marc to reach out for who left them in the first place.

The name of the fic was another idea that hit me in the head like a dodgeball to the face (and trust me, I know what that feels like). The working title for a long time was 'to weigh the heart of an albatross', to allude to ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’. In the poem, the titular Mariner shoots down an albatross for really no reason and then, either as a coincidence or as a result of him killing the bird (it's a matter of interpretation), everything goes to shit. The rest of the crew blame him and he is forced to hang the dead albatross around his neck as punishment (and then the crew all die and the Mariner is cursed by Life-in-Death, and is forced to keep living on and suffer as the only survivor, surrounded by the crew's dead bodies, and, well, y'see the connections, yeah?), and I wanted to be like "but see, Marc is the Mariner AND the albatross. He is the guilty man and the one enforcing the guilty. He is burdened, and the burden itself." (The fact Marc was a Marine certainly helped with the idea.)

I also originally wanted the epigraph to be a line from the poem (one contender: 'And they all dead did lie: / And a thousand thousand slimy things / Lived on; and so did I.' Because, survivor’s guilt and all that, and the complete self-hatred in comparing yourself to a ‘slimy thing’. Which as you know in the story, Marc hates..) but none of them fit the way I wanted. I did manage to sneak a sly reference to the albatross with KHONSHU BEING A BIG FUCKING WHITE BIRD HANGING AROUND UNWANTED LIKE A WEIGHT AROUND HIS NECK ENFORCING THE GUILT EVEN FURTHER AND STIFLING JAKE’S FREEDOM. And like, the actual bird Marc sees at the end, flying high.

But then 'in memory of you' came to me, thanks to me thinking about obituaries and such, and since the story is about memory and loss, I thought it was more fitting. I then shortened it to 'in memory of', to make it more open, to have it allude to all the things Marc lost that day. His brother, his innocence, his family. He's living his life in memory of what came before. Around the time of the getting that new title, I also rediscovered the Hill House quote (from an episode aptly named 'Steven Sees a Ghost') and knew it was a perfect fit.

The scene where Marc and Layla are talking about the meaning of their names was in there simply because I found out Layla means "night" and I was like "they really went and called her 'night', huh, in a show called 'Moon Knight...well, I can't let them get away with that, everyone must know." But it is sweet when you think about it, that the Avatar of the Moon god fell in love in with someone named after the night sky. Afterall, the moon shines brightest at night...

Wait. Shit. Oh shit. If that concept shows up in a future fic of mine along with some 'She Walks in Beauty' references you know fucking why.

Anyway. This next detail is actually one I picked up when rewatching the Field of Reeds scene (so many times; I do not particularly enjoying novelising scenes but I knew it was important to explore that scene within the fic itself, as it's an important step towards Marc's self-forgiveness). The way that Taweret says that there is "no danger" there and Marc immediately asks about Steven. Because of course, "when danger is near" and all that. Marc doesn't associate Steven with danger, but rather his safety from it. And when you find safety in something, you keep it close, even when there is no danger near. Because safety is comfort, and comfort is peace. The Field could only offer absence from all things bad, rather than the presence of that which is good, and so of course Marc left. He was never going to find true peace there. He would rather deal with the good and the bad than nothing at all.

Another detail: the movie night choices, because I can't ever just pick a random movie or song and be fine with that, no, no, I have to pick one with meaning. Silly writer brain. Anyway, the movies! If you seen 'The Bridge to Terabithia', I think you'll know why I chose that one; the synopsis literally has '(the imaginary world) helps Jess to escape and cope with a tragedy.' And like...the tragedy itself. 🙃 It's been years since I first watched and I'm still not okay. And 'The Lion King'...well, *gestures at the scene where Simba finds his dad's dead body* *gestures at Scar blaming Simba* *gestures at the years Simba spends trying to escape his past*. Guilt is a very huge part of that movie. Not that Steven would've picked up on that. Just like in 'Absent Place', he does a lot of things subconsciously; using muscle memory he can't remember forming, crying over things he can't remember hurting him, seeing the ghost of a boy he doesn't recognise. There's a blindfold around his eyes, but he keeps swinging the bat anyway, trying to hit the piñata, not knowing where it is or even why he's doing it at all.

Speaking of Steven, I wanted to make his interactions with the ghost distinctly different, to highlight the impact that Marc's guilt has on how he perceives things. With Marc, Randall is very much the epitome of a ghost, lurking in corners and doing nothing but watching. Marc has come to the conclusion that the ghost shows up to remind him of his pain, rather than realising the ghost shows up because he's in pain. But with Steven, Randall acts more natural, almost like a very quiet but kind child. Steven doesn't try to push him away, and he doesn't see him as a source of guilt, but rather comfort and companionship, so Randall acts accordingly.

(I kinda explored the idea of ghosts being shaped by our perception of them once before in a Lucifer fic I wrote a few years back which has, uh, well, a lot of thematic similarities to 'in memory of'. Like, a lot. Grief, guilt, ghosts, hiding in a fantasy, the past lingering. So, yeah, I don't get new ideas, I just pull out my old ones and put new clothes on them.)

But eventually, with the help of Layla and Steven, Marc slowly but surely starts to see past the wall of guilt his mother forced him to build up, and to remember his brother for who he truly was. That's why, by the last scene, when Marc sees him, Randall is swinging his legs and staring up at the sky, acting more like the child he is. Because Marc no longer sees him as something to dread, like you would a ghost, or as a condemnation. He sees his little brother, he sees him crying, and he goes over to give him one last word of comfort: I'm okay. I'm going to be okay. You can go now. Thank you for keeping your promise too.

Jeez, wow, okay, I told you this would be long but I wasn't expecting it to be this long. If you've made it this far, great job. Why don't we tie this whole ramble up with the most behind-the-scene detail of all: the notes I wrote when the idea first came to me, on the 23rd of July. Back when I thought it was really was just going to be 10 scenes.

My notes are usually more...coherent, but it was late at night and I just needed to get the thoughts down. Still, it's fun to see what stayed and what evolved through the writing process, and obviously everything that got added in, because there was a lot that was added in. I salute you Past Me, for ever thinking this would be a short enough story to have roman numerals denoting each part.

Alright, that's definitely enough rambling. I hope you've enjoyed me dumping all my brain's contents onto you. It was fun verbalising some of my thought processes to you and having the chance to explain some of stuff that wasn’t really made explicit in the writing itself. Thank you for the ask! :D

#ask #moon knight #meta #this counts as meta right?#long post #long fucking post #i told you you'd regret asking #when you get me going i fucking go i am an unstoppable object #especially about my writing #i am a child jumping up and down and pointing at my painting and going #did you see did you see #and you are the teacher patting me on the head going #yes dear it's lovely why don't you tell me why the curtains are blue #i love explaining symbolism and writing choices. so much so i had three english classes in my senior years of high school. shocking i know #and i was the only person in my entire year to take those classes too #that's right i had the awful nervewracking privilege of sitting alone in a classroom with no one else but the teacher #if they asked a question i had to answer #but at least the questions were about books and movies #those extra english classes are why i know so many bloody capital R Romantic poems anyway #i literally went back to my old school notes to gather some ancient mariner symbolism for the story #and uh if you ever see me writing about Jake and his kinship to Frankenstein's monster and how he's been treated....you know who to blame #the absent place had many underlying influences from things i learnt: the yellow wallpaper. plato's cave allegory. edgar allan poe's stuff #smoke and mirrors alternatively was inspired by media with magic mirrors: 'football' adventure time. sorceror's apprentice. infinity train #i like to hoard stories in my mind until i can steal them for parts #they are the foundations upon which i build #ANYWAY #thank you again for the ask i am sending you even more hearts #( ○w○)_💜💜💜💜

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sakizm · 1 year

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been reading a song of ice and fire books series since sept and i’m afraid to finish up a dance with dragons cause that means i’ll have to wait for the next book from grrm like everyone else has been for the last decade

#I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THE BOOKS!! i have really enjoyed reading them #and i can totally see where the show diverged from the books #there’s major plots that the show completely left out!! like the visions/dreams dany has #and the whole ‘prince that was promised’ stuff!#and a character reveal that i was so shocked!! like why did the show leave this out?? obvs the scene was there.#but was done differently without this character and replaced it with the whole jorah and tyrion journeys thru valyaria instead #the books have lots!! and i like grrm’s writing style #really lets you know the characters. thoughts and emotions. amd i really love that #even if i finish up a dance with dragons i still have fire and blood to read at least lol #don’t mind sakizm

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exbeaut · 1 year

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ok yes loving daisy jones so far bc i did just re read the book today so i’m back in it but my one qualm so far is that daisy is not unhinged like?? i don’t mind what minor plot/story changes they have made so far in fact i like it bc the book is completely told by multiple unreliable narrators that’s the whole point esp with the “plot twist” billy’s version (and daisys to less of an extent but still close to it bc she cared about camilla so she wouldn’t want to hurt julia) of things can’t be believed at all lmaooo so i don’t mind the changes i feel it’s a good way to frame it more real or whatever but my issue is why is Daisy so like put together??? she was insane and off her shit from age fourteen but so far three eps in she’s so ?? composed?? even in daisys unreliable pov of the book she knows she was an addict and a disaster and billy too on the first tour but in the show it’s so toned down maybe for viewer rating sakes? like maybe they can’t show heroin on prime shows idk lmaooo

#i do like it so far tho #i knew there would be A LOt of changes from the source material so i’m not like upset or shocked at what’s different so far #making a show BASED on a book is a whole thing bc u have to market it for ppl who haven’t read it as well it’s not meant to be #like catering directly to readers they have to make it to appeal to the general audience of ppl who have never heard of the book otherwise #they make no money so i get it and even before the early reviews came out i knew exactly what they would say that it veers off from the book #but i just think daisy should have been shown in a more real light she’s so together and sober in the show #not saying i enjoy the fact she was so addicted and a disaster but it was real that’s why ppl loved it bc it’s true that’s how it was like #she is and the book is based on real ppl #also pls don’t take my semi passionate ranting as an endorsement for the author LOL #tjr has stuff i like but not love i don’t think she’s revolutionary or anything close to that #like look at evelyn i loved it for like less that 24 hours i read it in a night and by two days later when the reader high faded i was like #wait actually……#you know?? and even daisy book i was never hooked x that hard when i first read it i was like yeah that was a fun read but also read it in #less than three hours it was just an easy light fun read in my opinion based on the books i gravitate to it was very light #and i reread it today and yes i enjoyed it immensely bc that’s how it was written in a fast paced enjoyable feel things briefly way #but the thing about tjr is i don’t think it was meant to read in a light way bc i see so many ppl like dying emotionally over her books and #i’m just like?? her writing isn’t that ‘deep’ or well tbh good #but it is goood in the way that it’s a good read technical skills aside it is entertaining and i do like a couple of hers #sorry i’m not shitting on her i like her but there are some aspects of her writing/her that i take issue with mainly in evelyn but that’s #another long ass topic/rant #i am a book snob i think LOL i’m sorry i’m i want to make it clear #just bc a book is an easy read doesn’t mean it’s BAD i just read a lot #like 300+ books a year since i was ten and that’s not me trying to flex it’s depressing truly bc i read to escape my fucked up issues #anyway #ummmm #i’m excited for more episodes LOL #i am really i’m loving it so far bc i need to feel something so this helps a bit

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silverislander · 28 days

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have discovered a new enemy while doing research for the honours essay. why are you pretending to understand psychology and BLATANTLY misinterpreting actual terms and concepts in order to tear down a movie aimed at teenage girls, my good bitch. i'm going to start biting

#you got the WRONG BITCH bc you just hit on two of my biggest interests (zombie movies and psychology) at once #FIRST of all. you dont have the credentials to be talking abt this and it shows bc why dont you know what psychotic means!!#simple shit!! you want to pretend you know psychology dont fuck up psychopathology psychopathy and psychosis! all different things!#you can BARELY conceive of narcissism. a one off joke about how a character recognizes his flaws and wishes he was respected more #is NOT proof to label someone as a fucking narcissist oh my god. id actually argue the complete opposite #you are accusing A Zombie of being abusive based on (checks notes) being scary looking eating brains and /protecting a girl/#bc uhhhhhhh smth smth dark triad smth smth twi/ight #last time i checked thats literally just fucking normal ass zombie shit + him being NICE!!#its not male gaze 'ocular aggression' bestie he cant blink. hes dead.#talking about how the zombie is unrepentantly creepy when he Literally worries about coming off as creepy In The Movie out loud #SECONDLY to circle back why are you so stressed about twilight. thats not even the subject of the chapter #(there are good critiques of those movies but this is not that)#your book came out in 2015 why were you still shitting your pants and crying that girls were having fun 3yrs ago at the EARLIEST #reaching so fucking hard to 'um ackshewally [thing that teenage girls like] bad' im shocked you didnt throw your fuckin back out #your arguments are nonsensical your positions reveal an alarming level of sexism and you should be ashamed #levi.txt #believe it or not im having fun rn. im funny complaining not angry complaining #w@rm b0dies isnt a Good movie but i will go to bat for it actually. let teenage girls have fun garbage #god knows adult men have enough of their own to choose from ESP in this genre #and its a movie that has a lot of interesting shit someone could analyze!! im focusing on it as a representation of changing feminism #but id love to see a reading of its portrayal of zombiehood as disability + its cure narrative #or critiquing how it writes its female characters bc admittedly theyre bad ngl #or on how survival is represented in comparison to films like zomb!e/and (which i also love) where you 'earn' survival with competence!#genuinely there is even smth to be said for the problematic nature of the brain eating element. id be intrigued by that paper #i dont think its much worse than the play the movie is based on? but its not nothing #it Is ultimately a little bit fucked up and i dont think the movie explores it enough #but noooooo we gotta talk about how the zombie is a narcissistic abuser bc of the brain eating. ok

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sir-snow · 1 month

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I don't believe in therapy.

Let's just read Neitzsche and do kinky stuff together.

That'll be healthy, right?

#my thoughts on therapy are much more complex than that #I just know that 90% of people in every occupation just plain shouldn't be there #And I really don't feel like window shopping through a bunch of peusdo intellectuals #When all I'm trying to do is better comprehend my reality and my role in it #And the major-majority of therapists #That I've had personal or professional interactions with #Either just plain don't care #Are giving you that look like #“Oh god is this going to be the person that beats me to death with my own clip-board”#Or are just waiting for you to say something incriminating so they can involve the police #There was one older lady in particular I talked too #Not even realizing she was a therapist until she started asking me a bunch of personal questions #And the subject of careers got brought up #And this gal was genuinely shell-shocked when I gave minor details about one of my verbally abusive father figures #It was as if she'd only heard about cases like that in books or on TV #And my reaction to her newfound curiosity was sort of blasé #Like yeah #Have you literally never interacted with a lower to middle class drunk or any of their kids before?#Granted I only said 90% earlier #Because there's one dude in particular I wouldn't mind buying a beer for #Now that I think about it #There's also a nurse I wish I could apologize too #Even if she was being holier than thou with her Bible pushing #But some people don't seem to realise that bastards are naturally predispositioned to being atheists #I just can't seem to fathom why a boy who grew up without his biological father #Doesn't like to hear about a guy who's father created him just so he can die for the sins of others #And that it would make much more sense for her to put her efforts into preventing some other kid's life from being more fucked up #Than it already is #Rather than trying to unravel the issues of a young man whom they just met with a pre-printed out sheet of paper #Wow I really didn't intend to write this much

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iicarused · 2 months

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Hi! ^^ I saw that your requests are open. Can you please do nsfw headcanons for Vox, Alastor and maybe Adam (if you’re open to write for him if not no worries!) with an S/O (separte) who is really sweet, but when they get to the bedroom for the first time she starts some kinky stuff once she’s comfortable enough. Stuff that they never knew would leave her mouth? How would they react?

I hope you have a beautiful day! ^^

##good girl

separate! vox x reader / alastor x reader / adam x reader

beware: smut, blowjob, knife play, biting, choking, cockwarming, rut, breeding kink, overstimulation, electric play, degradation, praise, mention of rope bunny, marking

a/n: thanks for being the reason why i post nsfw for the first time LMFAOO like actually i never posted it before so mb if these aren’t great<3

VOX

when you and vox started dating, the last thing he thought of was you being fun in the bedroom. now don’t get him wrong, he enjoys a little vanilla sex from time to time: but for you? a whole different story.

he thought you were more tame, to be fair, you were a whole sweetheart. but there came a time where he got a little too in his head and light electricity emitted from the palms of his hands.

he was so close to pulling away but the sound that came from you? he couldn’t stop. now, the electricity was not harsh, but instead sizzled over your skin: it’s how he often took off steam. the two words that really tied the knot is when you said “use me,” between kisses

the last thing he figured is that you were into choking, and here he is with his fingers curled around your neck. heavy breaths and degrading words being whispered to your ear.

“such a fucking whore begging for my cock like this, and here i thought i knew you.”

honestly, he gets even more ecstatic to know you’re a freak just as much as he is. his a corruption kink and your putter sona of portraying and innocent sweet heart really sparks that in him.

after figuring out this information, he enjoys calling you into his office and have you ccokwarm him. feeling you clench around him the longer you cannot move, or he will grip on your thighs to make you still.

ALASTOR

breeding link goes heavy and it was because that is how he found out about you’re kinky side. it was while he had you in a mating press when you let out those sweet words of “breed me, breed me, please alastor!” the begging and the way your fingers dug into his shoulders when he released.

“gun’na fill you right up until your dripping with my seed.”

he was quick to play into it that night, because things got more exciting after that. there was no genuine shock because to alastor? you were just so sweet and kind that you had to be hiding something. being a freak in bed was one of the last things but it was there.

the last thing he expected was stop being until knife play — it would be waaay later until he found that out, and how he did? he noticed the way you writhed under him whenever this his claws glided against your plush skin. the sounds you makes when his digs his nails into your thighs while he’s rutting into you.

breeding link mixed with overstimulation for this radio demon — only during a rut — other times, he’s fine and sex doesn’t occur often. usually to satisfy you when he isn’t in the mood, he lays you out on the bed while he reads a book and fingers you. can and will eat you out like it’s his last meal if you’re being too whiny.

ADAM

“such a slut, couldn’t wait for my cock and had to be fucked on the table in my office, huh?”

he knew you were a freak, he loved tying you up in the bedroom and using you until you were overstimulated. but when you came into his office and was more touchy, that caught him off guard. first, he thought you were joking. now he has you bent over his desk with a hand over your mouth, praying internally that the seraphim’s don’t catch this.

another part of him hopes to be caught. everyone believes that you’re some sweet angel who can do better than adam, but he’s the only one who can rail you until your legs begin to shake. (you wonder why lilith and eve left him sometimes)

goes crazy when you take his hand and place it where you wanna be touched. “i need words, sugar, what do you want me to do?” very oral with you, especially when he ties you up. leaving hickies isn’t enough, this man will bite into your skin (if you’re okay with it.) and ruin you

please be oral with him too, it will drive him fucking nuts. sharper thrusts and loves pressing you against the wall.

no because he will definitely have you bounce on his cock in the office but his wings will spread around the two of you for more privacy after he became the lead extermination angel.

#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel smut #vox x reader #alastor x reader #adam x reader

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cherienymphe · 5 months

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Everybody Knows That I'm A Good Girl, Officer (Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

WARNINGS: Dub-Con, power imbalance, abuse of power, degradation, manipulation, slight stalking, choking, semi public sex, mentions of cockwarming, mentions of gun kink, dom/sub elements, free use elements, jealousy

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

summary: ...and everybody knows. Everybody knows...that he fucks you.

You didn’t know a thing about Coriolanus Snow.

Not until he quite literally cornered you in the meadow one day.

Peacekeepers came and went, especially in District 12, so you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any new face that appeared on the streets of your district in those blue uniforms. In truth, you never took it upon yourself to pay attention to any of their faces. They all perfectly blended together into one faceless being that was merely a puppet of The Capitol, anyway.

However, standing in front Coriolanus Snow, you wondered how you missed him. Not because he was handsome—and he was—but because there was a hard glint to his blue gaze that told you he wasn’t the average capitol dog. Gun tight in his hand at his side, he stared at you like he wasn’t at all surprised to find you there.

He wasn’t.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to watch you, silent footsteps shadowing yours as he wondered what you were up to when you crossed the district line. He liked to watch you pick flowers and write underneath a tree and bring back the occasional caught animal for your ma and pa. He watched you play with the children in your district and help that old neighbor with her window…and steal food on occasions when your family couldn’t afford it.

“You could get into a lot of trouble for that.”

His tone was even and strong, but something about it told you that he didn’t want you to get in trouble for that.

“I know,” you told him, jutting out your chin as if challenging him to do something about it.

You said nothing, merely pressing your back to the tree when he moved closer, the gentle breeze ruffling the tall grass around his feet. You said nothing when he stood so close that you could smell him, wondering to yourself what a peacekeeper could possibly have access to that would make him smell so good. You even remained quiet when his free hand reached for yours, the softness of it shocking you, a sharp inhale when he turned your hand over.

Your palm was lightly stained from the bird you’d killed.

You curiously eyed him, a slight frown between your brows as he studied the skin. You drank in his prominent nose, full lips, and those unsettling blue eyes. Staring at them for too long actually made you uneasy, and when his gaze lifted to meet yours, you couldn’t look away fast enough. It only then occurred to you that you were out in the woods alone…with a peacekeeper who could do absolutely anything he wanted to you.

His next words surprised you.

“If someone other than me were to catch you…I can’t imagine what they’d do to you,” he murmured, making your frown deepen. “So, I would advise you to stop.”

By the way the corner of his mouth twitched, you knew that your shock and confusion was all over your face. When he dropped your hand, he pointed his gun at your catch of the day in a gesture for you to get your things, waiting for you to grab your dinner and your book.

You thought that he was letting you off the hook.

You thought wrong.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow was not a good man.

“Your daughter dropped these, ma’am, and I knew she’d kick herself if I didn’t bring these home.”

That smile on his pink lips was perfect, blue eyes twinkling when your mother thanked him profusely for bringing home your groceries—groceries you both knew you didn’t buy. When your eyes met his over her shoulder, that charming smile didn’t move an inch, and the longer he stared at you, the more uncomfortable you felt.

“Thank you,” you told him the next day, seeking him out.

He wasn’t technically on duty, and you found your gaze lingering on the dog tag around his neck. However, you found your gaze lingering on his face instead when he took a step closer, gaze unreadable.

“Anytime.”

It was a strange thing to say about bringing you food that you didn’t buy, and when he took another step towards you, your face pinched ever so slightly. You were all too aware of your close proximity, and when you felt his chest lightly brush against yours, your lips parted in realization. The moment it clicked had your blood running both hot and cold, uneasy and conflicted.

As you stared at each other, there seemed to be a lot of unspoken words between you, Coriolanus with one hand on the wall and you with one hand fidgeting with your shirt. You looked between his eyes, looking for some hint of hesitation, some evidence that deep down this wasn’t something he actually wanted to do…but there was none. There was a resolve in his gaze that felt all too familiar. It was the same determination you were sure was in your gaze anytime you swiped food for your household.

The same determination when your desperation won.

You took a deep shuddery breath.

“Anytime…?” you wondered, keeping your eyes on him.

Something in his face relaxed, evening out as he completely crowded you, now.

“Anytime.”

When his lips met yours, you didn’t exactly know what to do, feeling both unsure and sure at the same time. You were sure that you wanted to live comfortably and not have to wonder how you’d get your next meal, but you were so unsure of how this would end and what this would mean for you. You wouldn’t be the first girl to give herself to a peacekeeper or the mayor or whoever else she needed to just to ease the weight in her chest.

Coriolanus kissed you like he was the hungry one, lips moving against yours in a way that left you breathless. His hand wouldn’t stop kneading into your waist through your shirt, and his other found a home on your face, thumb brushing over your skin and tilting your head back. The only thing to pull you apart was a noise coming from inside the building you were pressed against, and when the blond man told you to hurry home, you did.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked obedience.

He wasn’t the kind of man who enjoyed repeating himself, and you learned that quickly, so now when he told you to get on your knees, you didn’t hesitate. When he told you to open your mouth, you did, and when he practically begged you to look up at him, you did. Coriolanus would never beg, he would never do that, but it was evident in the way his voice strained—the way the words left him breathlessly.

Or maybe that was because you had your lips around his cock.

With a hand in your hair and a hand on your chin, he gently guided you to take him into your throat again and again. You were no virgin, but there were still a lot of firsts to be had for you, and sliding your tongue over the tip of him was one of them. The feel of his fingers massaging your scalp soothed you, made this less nerve-wracking, and to your surprise, it even stroked a slowly burning fire between your legs.

There was such a stark contrast between the gentle touch of his fingers in your hair and the harsh hold of his hand on your chin. It wasn’t the easiest to take all of him into your mouth, and you couldn’t swallow down the noise that escaped when he hit the back of your throat. His smooth baritone reached your ears when he gently shushed you, softly telling you to use your hands.

“Wrap them around me,” he whispered in the otherwise quiet room.

Coriolanus liked obedience…so you did.

Your hand slid along his length in time with your lips, twisting around his cock, an easy task with the help of the mess you were making. He didn’t seem to mind though, only groaning above you, and when you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, you took in the way his head was thrown back, the skin of his throat straining and bobbing as he swallowed.

When he lowered his head, you started to look away, but the tightening of his hand in your hair told you not to. You kept your eyes on his as best as you could, sucking your cheeks in and flattening your tongue against the side of his cock. Every bob of your head made him shudder, and you dropped your hand when his hands came to rest on both sides of your head.

Remaining still for the man standing over you, you kept your mouth open as he slowly began to push his hips forward. With every surge of them, his cock dipped into your waiting lips, sliding over your tongue and against the inside of your cheeks. His thumbs brushed against your cheeks as he lost himself in his movements, blue eyes gazing down at you as he filled your mouth.

You didn’t know why—couldn’t understand it—but something about his outright use of your body and your lips had you squeezing your thighs together. It made heat settle in the pit of your stomach, twisting and burning violently until your not-so-subtle movements became noticed by him. In between his uneven breathing, a soft chuckle reached your ears.

“You’ll get your turn.”

…and he was a man of his word.

With the taste of him still on your tongue, Coriolanus had one forearm completely pinning your hips to the bed as he pressed his face between your thighs. Another first ripped away from you, wide gaze on the ceiling as you fought to keep from squirming. The feel of his tongue inside of you was jarring, and you couldn’t stop your toes from curling at the warm feel of it quite literally lapping at you.

Your hands came down to rest on his short blond hair, hips attempting to lift from the mattress, chest arching upwards towards the ceiling. When he hummed between your legs, you felt it all over, and you couldn’t stop the moans that climbed out of your throat. With him holding you down, the only appropriate thing to do was claw at whatever you could, turning your head from side to side.

It wasn’t enough for you to come into his mouth once. Coriolanus needed to know that he was the best you’d ever get, and even when you were out of breath and exhausted and overstimulated, he didn’t let your thighs go, only using them to drag you closer as he knelt between them. His perfect teeth winked at you when he leaned in to kiss you.

If your ma and pa wondered what kind of job you lucked out with to afford all of the food and clothes you started to bring home, they didn’t ask. Although, something in you suspected that they had an inkling of just what you had to do to bring home the freshest bread and the warmest clothes they’d ever had. You started to suspect that everyone did.

Coriolanus wasn’t exactly the most discreet, and you learned that he didn’t intend to be.

On the off chance you crossed paths in the street, he stopped you for all to see, voice lowering as he got really close and asked you how you were. You would feel the eyes of his peacekeeper friends on you as the unspoken questions lingered between you. Did you need more food? Did you need a new dress? You would tell him that you were fine, code for you didn’t need anything at the moment, and he wouldn’t try to hide his perusal of you, those unsettling blue eyes slowly dragging over your frame.

He didn’t seem the kind of asshole to brag about such things, but you weren’t stupid. Even without saying it, he made your arrangement abundantly clear. The way he talked to you, studied you, and ran his fingers over the back of your arm without a care as to who saw. Coriolanus had staked a claim on you, an unspoken display of ownership, and you wrote it off to some sick power trip.

…but you learned that Coriolanus Snow was a very jealous man.

That revelation struck you as odd because you didn’t think anyone would have anything he’d be jealous of, and you certainly didn’t think he’d be jealous over you. You were some average thieving girl whom he exploited the first moment he saw an opportunity to do so. Considering that he was willing to do it to you, you didn’t doubt that he was willing to do it to someone else should he find himself unable to have you anymore. That was what you believed anyway…

Until his fist was ruining the face of some District 12 boy you’d grown up with. You were far from friends, but he’d been a familiar constant in your life for years, and so sharing a drink with him while everyone danced to the live music on stage seemed like nothing at all to you. You didn’t even think there were lines to cross, a sentiment that was quickly corrected.

With one hand curled around your throat—holding you in place—there wasn’t any other option but to take Coriolanus’ thrusts. The sound of guitars and flutes and fiddles bled through the thin walls, everyone quickly moving on from the brief display of violence they’d witnessed. You could still remember the shock on your face as other peacekeepers pulled him off of the unsuspecting man who’d never been anything more than an acquaintance, really.

Your horrified gaze had met that of a familiar blue, and there wasn’t much time to do anything before Coriolanus neared you, reaching for the back of your neck as he walked you away from the crowd. It had been hard to ignore the numerous eyes following your movements, and you wondered now if they quickly moved on from the display because it was nothing or because they were too nervous to get involved with Coriolanus and the girl the whole district knew belonged to him.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out in some back room, your chest pressed to the table.

Your eyes were squeezed shut as he stretched you out, cock pushing into you and throbbing with every push of his hips. You knew that the words wouldn’t change anything, but you felt compelled to say them, anyway. His fingers were tight against your neck, and every time you reached up towards them, he only squeezed tighter. Despite the discomfort, you couldn’t stop your stomach from squeezing, coiling tight as you gripped him.

When he pulled you up so that your back was firm against his, his hold on your neck loosened a bit, and you took a deep inhale. His thumb was pressed to your jaw, and he brought his face down to rest on the other side of your neck where his arm didn’t rest, pressing open mouthed kisses there.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he whispered against your skin.

It was the truth, and at your silence, he squeezed your neck again.

Your nails scraped against the table he fucked you on, upper body straining as he kept you upright and against him, hips lifting to push his cock into you with the kind of thrusts meant to make a point. When his teeth grazed your skin, you shuddered in his hold, and despite the fact that you couldn’t hear his laugh, you felt it deep within his chest.

“He can’t give you what I can…”

You started to tell him that you knew that, but Coriolanus didn’t let you.

“…so, don’t go thinking he can.”

“I wouldn’t…”

Your words died in the air when he pushed you back down, completely pressed against you and pinning you between him and the table.

“Wouldn’t you?” he hummed, his free hand trailing over your visible cheek. “Everybody knows your price.”

The demeaning words made your stomach turn, but the way he curved his hips against you only had you clenching down on him at the insulting insinuation.

“They see the nicer clothes…the better living conditions…and they know why. They know what you did to get that.”

His lips brushed against your skin with every word, and as if it make his point, he reached down between your legs to brush his thumb over you, making you gasp. With the circling of his fingers, you fidgeted beneath him, toes pushed to the absolute tip to get some reprieve and lips parted as you scraped and clawed at the table.

When he came inside of you, something he never did before, he held you down, forcing you to milk his cock until he was completely satisfied. The nice dress he’d gotten sewn for you was ripped, and you reached up to touch it with trembling lips the moment he let you go. He was so determined to get his hands on you the moment the door was shut that you liked to think it was an accident, but the way you were forced to wear the jacket of his uniform as you walked out made you think otherwise.

Even though Coriolanus was nowhere near you once you rejoined the crowd, his presence was still loud and clear. No one needed to be a genius to figure out where you’d been, and as you glanced around, you realized that he was right. The discreet looks and nervousness around you… Everyone knew.

…and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

You learned that Coriolanus Snow liked to have you whenever and wherever he wanted.

Whether it was in his bunk when he should’ve been on duty or in your room during the early hours of the morning when your pa was in the mines and your ma was asleep or between the openness of the trees when you were only amongst the grass and the birds. He didn’t like disobedience, and so, he didn’t like the word no. So, you never uttered it.

Even when you wanted to.

“Good girl,” he purred into your lips when you did as he wanted, reaching down between you and sliding yourself onto his cock.

It was late when he knocked on your door, gently telling your ma to go back to bed when you answered it. You didn’t know if you wanted to see the look on her face when you left with him, afraid of what you’d see. There was a rare stillness about District 12 when you crossed the district line, Coriolanus’ fingers brushing over your neck the entire way.

The only light was from the moon, his soft hands gripping your hips and guiding you over him. His gaze alternated between your face and his lap where you two connected. Occasionally he lifted his own hips, driving his cock up into you and making you gasp. His hands ran up and down your frame, kneading your skin and basking in the thin layer of sweat that clung to you—to both of you.

“Show me how bad you want it,” he’d murmur in the darkness, completely letting you go.

He opted for leaning back on his elbows, his own pink lips parted, blue eyes glinting under the light of the moon as he watched you fuck yourself onto his cock. Your hands pressed against his chest, keeping yourself upright as your lashes fluttered. There was a burn in your hips that ached too good to stop, the sound of you squeezing him and sliding up and down him loud to your ears.

“Make yourself come,” he’d whisper, refusing to touch you as his voice lowered. “Work for it.”

When you finally did tense on top of him, shuddering and pressing your nails into his chest, the blond man wouldn’t hesitate to circle his arm around your waist, flipping you before you could even catch your breath. Back pressed into the grass, he snapped his hips against yours, the sound of skin slapping against skin loud in the air.

Under the cover of darkness, Coriolanus allowed himself to lose control, holding your throat and pushing into you—taking full advantage of having you at his mercy. He plunged his cock into your walls, praising how wet you were for him and how snugly he fit inside of you.

“Whenever I want,” he told you.

“Whenever you want,” you agreed, nails digging into his back.

When you returned in the early hours of the morning, your ma never acknowledged it. She never acknowledged how the house stayed stocked with food despite you never going to the market. Her only acknowledgement of the clothes sewn for her were quiet ‘thank yous’…but she knew. Everyone knew.

…and it bothered you less and less until it didn’t bother you, at all.

It couldn’t bother you.

…because if it did you would have to say no when Coriolanus wanted you to rest in his lap, cock fitting snugly inside of you as he held you there. You would have to say no when he brought you another dress he had made or the freshest groceries you would’ve never been able to afford. You would have to say no when he asked if you were his good girl, demanding you prove it as he slid his gun between your legs, telling you to remain completely still.

…but you didn’t say no to any of that because it didn’t bother you—because it couldn’t bother you. Even when the discreet looks were hard to ignore or your ma started to ask if you’d be out late or you started to feel cheap and used. You couldn’t let it bother you.

You were his good girl, and that was what he told you when he tied a pretty delicate ribbon around your neck for all to see one evening.

It was soft.

White.

Just like snow.

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