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burst-of-iridescent · 2 months

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South Asian and Hindu Influences in ATLA (Part 1)

disclaimer: i was raised culturally and religiously hindu, and though i've tried to do my research for this post and pair it with my own cultural knowledge, i'm not an expert on hinduism by any means. should i mess up, please let me know.

please also be aware that many of the concepts discussed in this post overlap heavily with religions such as buddhism and jainism, which might have different interpretations and representations. as i'm not from those religions or cultures, i don't want to speak on them, but if anyone with that knowledge wishes to add on, please feel free.

it's well-known that atla draws from indigenous, east and southeast asian influences, but something i rarely see discussed in the fandom is the influences the show takes from hinduism and south asia, and there are actually far more than i think people are aware of.

so here's a (non-exhaustive list) of the main inspirations atla drew from south asian culture and hinduism, starting with...

The Avatar

the title of the show itself is taken from the ancient language of sanskrit, often considered the sacred tongue of the hindu religion. in sanskrit, the word "avatar" means to "descend" or "alight".

the concept of the avatar is a very old one, referring to the physical incarnation of a powerful deity or spirit. the idea of the avatar is most often linked to the god Vishnu, one of three supreme hindu gods collectively called the trimurti, or trinity. the avatar is said to manifest upon earth primarily in times of great need, when balance must be maintained between the forces of good and evil.

atla borrows heavily from this idea in having aang be the incarnation of a divine spirit who returns to the world during a time of immense strife, and is tasked with defeating a great evil to bring balance back to the world. and though i don't know if it was an intentional reference, it's interesting to note that Krishna, the most famous incarnation of Vishnu was also reborn amidst a fierce storm and carried through a raging sea to a new home where he would be protected from the king who sought to kill him. sounds a little familiar, doesn't it?

Agni Kai and the Philosophy of Firebending

the word "agni" derives from the sanskrit name Agni, the god of fire, though it can also generally mean "fire".

the concepts of lightning bending and the sun being the source of firebending are likely also taken from the idea of Agni, since he's said to exist simultaneously in three different forms on three different dimensions: as fire on earth, as lightning in the atmosphere, and as the sun in the sky.

Agni is a significant aspect of many rituals, including marriage rites, death rites, and the festivals of holi and diwali. the concept of Agni is one of duality: life and death, rebirth and destruction. hindu rituals accept and celebrate both aspects, revolving around the idea that destruction is not separate from creation, but rather necessary to facilitate it. the cremation of the dead, for instance, is seen as purification, not destruction: burning away the physical form so the soul is unencumbered, set free to continue the reincarnation cycle.

this influence can be seen in the firebending masters episode, which discusses the idea of fire being vital to life. the sun warriors safeguarding the original fire and demanding that zuko and aang bring fire to the dragons as a sacrifice could also reference the ritual of Agnihotra - the ritual of keeping a fire at the home hearth and making offerings to it. the purpose of this ritual differs depending on which text you refer to, but it is generally believed to purify the person and atmosphere in which it is performed, similar to how zuko and aang must make offerings to ran and shaw and survive their fire before being deemed worthy and pure.

Agnihotra is said to serve as a symbolic reminder of the vitality and importance of fire as the driving force of life, a lesson that zuko and aang also internalize from their encounter with the dragons.

Bumi

bumi's name is taken from the sanskrit word "bhumi", which means "earth". it's also the name of the hindu goddess of the earth, bumi or bhudevi.

one of the things the original animation didn't do and which i really enjoyed about the live action was that they made bumi indian and added desi inspiration to omashu. it makes perfect sense for a king whose name is as hindu-inspired as they come.

NWT Royal Palace

chief arnook's palace in the northern water tribe takes inspiration from the gopurams of hindu temples, massive pyramidal structures that served as entrance towers to the temple.

gopurams were built tall enough to be seen for miles around, beacons to signal tired or weary travellers who wished for a place to rest that a temple was nearby. it's a nice touch that the chief's palace is located in front of the spirit oasis, a similarly symbolic entryway to a sanctuary housing otherworldly deities.

Betrothal Necklaces

to preface: i doubt this was an intentional reference, and this great post talks about other cultures that could have inspired the water tribe betrothal necklaces. given the desi influence in the nwt architecture however, i figured it was worth mentioning.

the idea of betrothal necklaces being given to women by their male partners is similar to the thaali, a necklace given to hindu wives by their husbands. during hindu weddings, grooms tie the thaali around their brides' necks to symbolize their marriage. once given, wives are expected to wear their thaali till the day they die, as doing so is believed to bring good luck, health and prosperity to their husbands.

Chi-Blocking

though chi-blocking takes primary inspiration from the art of Dim Mak, it is also influenced by the south indian martial arts forms of adimurai and kalaripayattu, both of which include techniques of striking vital points in the body to disable or kill an opponent.

kalaripayattu also shares parallels with firebending, being a very physically demanding, aggressive martial art that emphasises the importance of discipline and mental fortitude. control of the mind is essential to control of the body, a philosophy similar to that espoused by iroh across the show.

Wan Shi Tong's Library

the library draws inspiration partly from the taj mahal, the famous mausoleum constructed by shah jahan during the mughal empire as a monument to his beloved wife, mumtaz mahal.

i'll end this post here since it's getting too long as it is, and the following section will be even longer. for while atla treated the concepts in this post with respect, the same unfortunately cannot be said for its depiction of guru pathik and combustion man - both of which we'll be discussing next.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla cultural influences #hinduism in atla

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

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Counting the Minutes

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Dirty talk, masturbation, phone sex. Word count: ~1k

Summary: Separated for the Christmas break, her and Michael have to get creative.

Author's note: A little addition to The Golden Ratio, though can also be read as a standalone piece. Day twelve of the Smuffmas prompts - "promise and phone sex". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She nestles beneath the duvet, clicking through the contacts on her Nokia until she reaches Michael’s name. A faint smile tugs at her lips as her finger hovers over the call button, she can’t wait to speak to him.

They have been inseparable since the night that Oliver ditched him. They brought out the best in each other. Michael lit a fire underneath her that made her want to study harder, to strive for perfection in all things. In turn, she softened him up and taught him not to see the world through such a harsh lens.

Their relationship had become serious enough that they had both chosen to spend their reading week together, instead of going home like the vast majority of people at their college had.

Now the term was over, and Christmas had beckoned them both home; Michael back to his mum, and her back to her dad. It’s odd not to see him every day, and though they’d stayed in touch on MSN Messenger, nothing compares to sitting with their legs entwined as they discuss their notes for their upcoming tutorials.

It’s only been a week and she misses the way he rests his chin against his hand when he’s deep in thought, how the intensity of his unblinking, blue eyed stare causes her skin to grow hot, and the smell of Imperial Leather soap and old books that she inhales when she rests her face in the crook of his neck.

Holding the phone to her ear, it rings once, twice, three times before he answers.

“Hello, you.”

His voice gives her butterflies. It’s the sound she’d attribute to how it feels to run your fingertips against plush velvet.

“Hi,” she says back with a coy smile. God, she wishes she could see him.

“How long can you talk for?” He asks.

“I put credit on my phone yesterday, ten pounds, so should be good for a while.”

“One hundred and sixty six point seven hours.”

She huffs a laugh. Of course his mind wanders to the maths of it.

“You think we could talk for that long?”

“Hmm,” he muses, “I’m sure we could find a way to pass the time.”

“Like we did during reading week?” She asks softly, her fingers drawing lazy circles against the cotton of her bedsheets.

“Can’t really do that over the phone.”

“Have you ever had phone sex before?”

She hears him suck in a harsh breath before he replies. “What do you think?”

It causes her to giggle. Of course he hasn’t.

“Would you like to try it?” She holds the phone tighter to her ear, a lazy grin upon her lips.

“What does it entail?”

“Well,” she begins, switching her mobile from one ear to the other, and snuggling further down into the bed. “We describe what we’d like to do to each other while we touch ourselves.”

“One thousand, two hundred and fifty.”

“What?”

“On average, I can make you orgasm in about eight minutes. If we run through all of your phone credit then that’s how many times I could make you come.”

“Michael!” She gasps, feeling her insides flutter at the thought. “I don’t think that would be physically possible. I’ll settle for just the one today.”

He huffs a soft laugh, the sound breathy through the receiver. “Yes, I suppose that’s a bit impractical. Alright then, you start.”

“I wish you here right now,” she purrs seductively. “I want to push my hand up your t-shirt and run my fingers against that little trail of hair that leads all the way down your stomach, before I wrap them around your cock.”

His breathing grows heavier and she can hear the faint rustle of clothing in the background. She bites her lip, her own hand snaking beneath the duvet and into the waistband of her knickers.

“I miss the way you feel,” he tells her, voice shaky, “how tightly you grip me when I first push inside of you. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that sensation. You’re so wet, so warm…”

She can hear the slick sound of his hand pumping over his cock, the sound sends arousal pooling between her legs and she circles her pearl in earnest, the added wetness aiding her ministrations. She hadn’t expected him to focus on the sensation of physical touch quite so much, but Michael is pragmatic after all, and his innovative approach excites her.

“Mmmm,” she moans quietly, “I want you to do that thing where you grab my hips to pull me back against you as you fuck me, it feels so good.”

A broken whimper escapes him, and there’s a brief moment of just his ragged breathing before he speaks again.

“The way your thighs tighten against my waist drives me mad. I swear I can still feel you there when I close my eyes, see the way your tits bounce– fuck!”

She whines, circling her bud faster, the coil in her gut tightening. “Wanna slide my hands down to your arse, push you in as deep as you’ll go, watch how your eyes screw shut as you come inside me.”

He grunts. “Wish I could come inside of you so badly. I need to feel you clenching around me, hear the pretty sounds you make as I fill you up.”

Her hips jerk involuntarily against her hand, and she knows she’s close. It’s been a week since he’s touched her and his filthy words have sent her unravelling much faster than she anticipated.

“I’m close,” she pants.

“M–me too,” he huffs back. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard the moment we get back to college.”

“Oh god–” Her response is cut off by her pleasured cry, as she falls apart, her walls spasming around emptiness as her thighs tremble.

A grunt and heavy breathing on the other end of the line lets her know that Michael has reached his end too. There’s nothing but the sound of their shared gasps for air, as they both recover.

“Do you promise?” She finally asks. “To fuck me hard when we get back to college?”

“Tell you what, let’s go back a day early and we can spend an entire day doing just that.”

She giggles excitedly, rolling onto her side. “I’ll be counting the minutes until then.”

#michael gavey x you #ewan mitchell #michael gavey smut #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #michael gavey imagine #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey x reader #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

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monstersandmaw · 1 year

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Male fox spirit x female reader (nsfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

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Commission #4 in the list of 5! Thank you for trusting me with your prompt: female reader saves a dying fox on her way home from work, who turns out to be a fox spirit. I hope you like it!

Contents: Fox suffers a spinal injury when hit by a car (not the reader’s); there’s some magic; some domestic fluff; oral sex, fingering, him coming on her; and a sweet, fluffy ending.

Wordcount: 4400

Driving rain greeted you full in the face as you shoved open the main doors of the building and burrowed down into your coat, drawing the hood tight around your head in a vain attempt to keep the weather out. Nights like this — cold, damp, and at the tail end of winter before Spring took a proper hold on the land — were truly miserable.

Your fingers were half frozen by the time you had fumbled the keys out of your pocket and clambered into your car, and you fired the old thing up with a hopeful grimace that it would start. It coughed to life and you uttered a little prayer of thanks to whichever gods or spirits out there might be listening. “Now if only you could do something about my pathetic love life as well,” you said to yourself as you reversed out of the parking space and headed towards the main road. “Wouldn’t that be perfect?”

Half an hour outside of town, your headlights flashed over something lying on the side of the road, sprawled halfway across the white line, and you swerved instinctively to avoid it. Mercifully there was nothing coming in the other direction, or you’d have caused a serious accident. Adrenaline spiked through you and you slammed on the brakes.

The flash of golden-red you’d glimpsed had told you it was a fox, but it had had its head raised and it had been looking at you with its eyes flaring yellow in the headlights, but the expression on its face had struck you to the core. It had looked… resigned. Like it knew you were going to hit it. Like it knew it was going to die.

“No,” you said through gritted teeth.

You had some old work gloves in the back of the car from when you’d taken a load of stuff from the garden to the dump a week before, so you put your hazards on and slid out of the driver’s side door and into the worsening storm. You cursed softly, squinting amid the stinging rain as it struck your face like little iron nails in the gusty night. You cleared a space in the trunk for the fox, spreading an old picnic blanket out and grabbing those thick leather gloves. No need to get rabies if the thing bit you before you could get it to an animal clinic in the morning.

You knew it was a stupid thing to do, that cars hit wildlife all the time, and you really weren’t equipped to deal with it, but you couldn’t just leave it there when it had looked so sad; black ears drooping, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

Making your way along the edge of the deserted road with only your phone torch to light the way, you found the spot where the fox was still lying on the asphalt, and crooned softly to it. “Hey there,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “It’s ok. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s alright. Let me help you out… Let me take you home and see if I can take you to a vet in the morning…”

When your light found its back legs though, your heart sank. They lay limp and slightly twisted to one side. Its back had been broken by the impact with a vehicle.

“Oh baby,” you said, fighting sudden tears. “It’s going to be ok…” you lied.

Was it like with humans? Should it not be moved with a spinal injury? It would probably die anyway, or they’d recommend putting it down. You could at least take it in and keep it warm for its last few hours. When you knelt nearby, it just laid its cheek down on the cold tarmac, defeated, and let out a long, broken whimper.

“I’m going to pick you up, ok? Please don’t bite me. God, this is such a stupid thing to do…”

The fox licked its shiny black nose and just blinked slowly at you.

When it made no move to attack you or snap at you when you got nearer, you scooped it up and marvelled at how light it felt in your arms, its lovely, russet fur damp and matted.

“There,” you said, cradling it in your arms as you carried it back to your car. ‘Him’, not ‘it’, you saw when you set him down on the blanket and stroked his head and neck. He murmured softly, the sound almost a purr, and you swallowed thickly. He was so weak, you wondered if he’d even survive the journey home.

Five cars overtook you as you drove on after that, all beeping and honking their horns and flashing their lights to get you to go faster, but you absolutely would not be bullied into making this last car ride hell for the little, injured fox.

It didn’t take very long to set up a cosy den of blankets and towels in the kitchen by the radiator, and when you were satisfied that it was as comfortable as you could make it — and that any mess would be contained in an area with tile floors — you went back for him. He was still lying on his side, exactly as you’d left him, but his eyes seemed brighter and more focused, and his ears pricked up when you opened the trunk up and gazed down at him.

“Alright?” you asked and he gave a soft snuffle that was half-sneeze and half-chuckle. “You’re awfully perky for someone who’s just gone head-to-head with fast-moving traffic, buddy,” you smiled. “Maybe you will be alright. Ready to go inside?”

You had your gloves on but it didn’t feel like you really needed them, and when you settled him down on the veritable blanket fort inside, he heaved a great sigh and nuzzled his cheek against the fabric with a rumbling moan of contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked. “I don’t have much that’s fox-friendly, but I think there’s some ham in the fridge. Let me check.”

You offered him a saucer of water first, holding his delicate head up as he lapped steadily at it until he’d had his fill, and then you fed him little slivers of cooked ham which he took from your fingers like an absolute gentleman. “Aren't you dainty,” you chuckled as his small, sharp teeth pulled the next piece carefully free of your gloved hand.

He fixed you with such a flat, patronising look that you had to laugh.

The fox flicked an ear and looked away.

“Oh I’m sorry,” you said in a baby voice. “Don’t be grumpy with me, you precious thing… Here, have some more…”

He sneezed, then looked back at you and opened his mouth, head tipped back like a baby bird awaiting a worm.

“You’re not going to take it? You want me to feed you?”

He just stared at you without moving.

“Fine, your highness,” you said. “Anything for you.”

You let the piece drop into his tilted jaws, and then chucked him affectionately under the chin with your finger after he’d chewed and swallowed it.

He caught the leather of the glove’s fingertip in his teeth in a move that was so fast you didn’t even see it, but then tugged gently, insistently.

“I’m not taking this off,” you frowned. “You could have rabies for all I know.”

A tiny, rattling growl, like the world’s tiniest chainsaw, rumbled out of him and he folded his ears back indignantly before pulling on the glove again. Then he let go, his ears pricked about as far forward as he could get them, and he stared expectantly at you.

“No way, friend,” you said, and stood to put the empty ham packet in the rubbish bin.

With your back to the kitchen window, a golden light flooded the room, and for a wild moment, you thought someone was driving straight at the house, headlights blazing. When you whipped around though, you froze. The light was coming from… from the fox.

“The fuck…?”

Your heartbeat started to race, and you weren’t sure if the ringing sound was coming from your own blood pounding in your ears or from something else in the room. The brightness reached such an intense crescendo that you had to look away, shielding your eyes with the crook of your arm until the chiming noise stopped and you lowered it cautiously back down, blinking.

There, standing in the centre of the room, was a man.

You took a step back, fear crashing in on your senses.

You looked around for something you could use as a weapon, but a warm, gentle voice said, “Wait, I won’t hurt you. I swear it.”

Again, you went still, and after taking a steadying breath, you turned to face him again, wide eyed and shaking. “What the hell?”

“Not hell,” he smiled, and you saw that he had warm, tan skin and dark, golden eyes. His hair was a russet colour, and it fell in soft waves around his ears to the nape of his neck. He was slender, not especially tall, and he was quite possibly the most beautiful human being you’d ever laid eyes on. Except… there was still a kind of glow around him, like an aura, and his clothes looked like they belonged at a Ren Faire or something, though the dark green, belted and embroidered tunic was finely tailored and his dark brown boots looked soft and well worn. Tiny points of light, like fireflies, twisted slowly through the air surrounding him before vanishing into a miniature, glittering starburst.

“You’re not human,” you said, despite how crazy it sounded.

“No,” the man replied with a smile. “No, I’m not. But you didn’t know that when you took in an injured fox and cared for him.”

“You’re the fox,” you blurted without thinking.

“I am. Sort of,” he smiled, and you saw that he had perfect, white teeth, with slightly more pointed canines than humans usually did. “I’m a fox spirit. There are all sorts of us, and we’re known by many names all over the world, but the most famous is probably the ‘kitsune’ thanks to modern media.”

“Oh,” you said, only half aware that your vision was darkening around the edges until it was too late. The blood roared again in your ears and your knees went out from under you. The last thing you saw was a flicker of a frown on the man’s — kitsune’s — face before he lunged towards you with hands outstretched, and the world went black.

You stirred and found yourself lying on the sofa in your sitting room, with your feet raised about a foot or so off the seat cushion, and a stranger in green standing over you, holding your legs up by the ankle. The kitsune. The fox spirit.

“Got to say, that’s the first time someone’s actually fainted because of me,” he said with a smile, lowering your legs back down and stepping back. “Are you alright?”

“I fainted?” you asked stupidly, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs slowly off the sofa and onto the ground. You swayed a little, but didn’t pass out again.

The fox spirit nodded, his lovely hair shining with strands of bronze and copper in the low light of the room, gold eyes glowing as if back-lit. “Thank you for saving me,” he said in a quiet, earnest baritone.

“Did I, though?” you asked, staring openly at him. “I mean… you’re… magic, right? I saw the way your legs were just… Your back was broken…”

“If you’d hit me with your car, or simply left me there for the next driver to do the same, then I wouldn’t have survived. We’re tough, and our magic can heal most things, but not that.”

“Oh.” And then your cheeks went hot and you looked at the carpet, “I’m sorry I baby-talked you like you were an actual animal.”

He laughed; a beautiful, bright sound like dry autumn leaves in clear sunlight. His head tipped a little way back and he looked truly delighted. “You weren’t to know,” he said, still chuckling. “And you’re not the first.”

“Oh,” you said, like a broken record.

From where he stood nearby, the fox spirit smiled at you and then inhaled deeply. “I… should go,” he said, his golden eyes turning a little sad. “Let you return to your life…”

“Wait,” you called from the sofa as he turned away. “What’s your name?”

He cast you a look over his shoulder and the smile he gave you was wry and amused. “You may call me Rowe.”

There was a nuance there that you weren’t understanding, but you told him your name in return, and he inhaled suddenly as if you’d struck him.

“You would part with your name so carelessly?” he whispered, brows pulling together into a frown of utter confusion. “You…” and then his expression cleared and his shoulders dropped. “You have never had dealings with the fae, have you?”

“The… fae?” you stuttered. “Like… fairies?”

The smile that replaced the frown was patient and amused in equal parts, and he sighed and shook his head. “Well, here’s your first lesson. Never tell your true name to a fae.”

Again, all the sound that escaped you was a dull, “Oh.”

He exhaled and approached you, and you tried not to lean back, to lean away from him. This whole night had gone from bad to utterly bizarre in the blink of an eye and you felt a little sick from the whiplash.

To make matters all the more confusing, the strange man knelt before you, sweeping his long, otherworldly tunic out of the way as he sank down onto one knee like he was going to propose or something, and he bowed his auburn head. “You saved my life without thought of debt or repayment, and in recognition of the gift, I give one of my own. I bind your True Name to my heart and hold it there in silence. I may never speak your True Name aloud unless you give me leave so to do. This I swear upon my spirit and my magic and my own True Name.”

The air in the room prickled like static and you had to fight the urge to see if your hair was standing on end. Goosebumps flickered along your arms and legs, and you drew in a shallow breath. “Anything else I should know about?” you asked faintly.

He looked up at you and shrugged. “We’re allergic to iron,” he suggested. “And we’re overly fond of cream and sweet cakes…”

“Sweet cakes,” you repeated thoughtfully, eyes drifting towards the kitchen where you’d bought a strawberry sponge cake just the day before, and an idea half-formed in your head.

Rowe smiled and your heart slipped sideways in your chest for a moment. He was so beautiful it was almost hard to believe he was really there and really standing in front of you. Well, technically he was kneeling like a knight in a fairytale. Fairytale indeed, you thought.

“You don’t have to go,” you whispered.

You were afraid of sounding childish, that if you spoke too loudly, he would think you desperate and would laugh at you, but all he did was tilt his head to the side the way he had done as a fox, and he nodded once. “Alright,” he said.

“I mean, don’t feel like you have to stay either,” you babbled, making a rather pathetic, flapping gesture in front of you with your hands. “I just meant… you’re welcome to stay if you want to. I was going to cook some dinner and watch a movie… eat cake for dessert. I thought… I thought since you’ve had kind of a rough day, you might like to just… chill out with me for a while.”

“May I help you cook?”

“If you… If you’d like to?” you said, standing carefully and holding your hand out to him to encourage him up off the floor.

He slid his warm fingers into your palm, and got to his feet with the grace of a prince, and offered you another smile. “I’d like that very much.”

Rowe stayed with you for a week. You explained that you had to go to work or you’d get fired, and when you came back on the first day, you expected him to have gone, leaving you wondering if the whole thing hadn’t been a hallucination brought on by the combination of a stressful week of work and the awful weather. But no, Rowe was there that evening, curled up as a fox on the impromptu bed you’d made by the radiator while the rain hurled itself at the window pane above him.

“Rowe, you don’t have to sleep on that!” you gasped, dropping your bag by the door and making him startle awake, ears pricked, tail fluffed up in rather adorable alarm.

In a flash of gold light, he was human again, standing beside the bed and smiling at you. “I don’t mind,” he chuckled. “It’s comfortable, and when I’m a fox, I don’t think in quite the same way as I do when I’m in this form. That’s how I got hit by the car in the first place… Please, don’t fret.”

You scowled at him, but relented, and asked him about his day. It seemed he’d spent most of it in his fox form, either out and about in the woods near your house, or sleeping by the warmth of the radiator.

“Didn’t you get bored here?” you asked.

“I could have done the housework for you,” he smirked. “But I thought that might have been an intrusion on your privacy.”

You laughed. “Thanks?”

After three days of sharing your space with him — he sleeping contentedly as a fox on the pile of blankets and you upstairs in your bedroom — you cleared your throat that evening as you sat together on the sofa like old friends, and said, “You know… uh… I… I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come upstairs with me… I don’t want you to feel like you have to sleep down here like you’re a…” you trailed off, flushing hot with awkward embarrassment.

One russet-brown eyebrow climbed a little higher than the other. “… a what?”

“Like you’re some kind of pet… you know…”

Rowe laughed and, as it always did, your heart skipped a beat. His cheeks dimpled and Adam’s apple danced in his exposed throat and you ached. It felt like a long time since someone had touched you; since you’d been held, let alone kissed. He had a beautiful mouth, like he’d been made just to tempt you.

Some of your thoughts must have shown on your face because the laughter died in his throat and he fixed you with a look that was all concern. He murmured the name you’d given him permission to use when it was just the two of you and asked, “What’s wrong? I’m not upset about the animal comment,” he said, reaching for your forearm and trying to reassure you, but you shook your head. “Then what?”

Tears came unbidden to your eyes and you turned away. His hand felt hot through the fabric of your hoodie, but his grip was feather light. It would take nothing at all to pull yourself free, but the thought of it seemed overwhelming. “It’s nothing,” you choked, pressing your lips together and hoping he’d let the matter drop.

He didn’t. His eyes flared bright gold and he scowled at you when you risked a glance at him. “The fae can always taste a lie,” he said with the slightest growl to his voice. “And I can tell you’re hurting. We were laughing, and then… you weren’t. What changed?”

“It’s —”

A short, animal growl echoed in his throat but he bit it back, shut his mouth with a click of teeth, and glared at you.

“Ugh, fine,” you huffed, standing up and pacing across the room. “It’s been a long time since it’s been this easy around someone, ok? And it’s not every day that a handsome, cute guy with a great sense of humour shows genuine interest in me. I just wished, for like half a second, that you might be interested in me, but I get it. You’re not even human. I was nice to you. You probably feel obliged to stay here. You… You should probably go soon anyway.”

His expression turned from concerned to carefully neutral, and he stood. “If that’s the way you feel,” he said, “Then I can leave. But you should know that I’ve had a wonderful time with you, and…” he swallowed and took a breath, “I think you’re beautiful, through and through.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “Don’t bother trying to spare my feelings.”

“We can taste a lie, but we cannot tell one,” he said evenly. “I could not tell you that your clothes are yellow when they are not, nor that the sky is green, nor that you are not beautiful.”

You turned slowly around to look at him, and found him glowing gold again, those points of light spiralling lazily in the air around him. The slight shape of fox ears seemed to be picked out in two, brighter lines above his copper hair and behind him you saw a golden tail swaying back and forth. His eyes blazed bright like burnished bronze, and he was staring directly at you as he spoke.

“Oh.”

“I would very much like to stay with you, and share your bed, and, if you would let me, I would bring you pleasure too.”

Your breath hitched and you licked your lips. He even spoke like he was out of a fairytale. “You mean it?”

“Yes.”

“Ok,” you smiled.

Together, you tidied up the sitting room, and he followed you upstairs, still glowing softly, as if he were utterly contented and couldn’t help it.

Rowe undressed with you in your bedroom, baring a body like polished bronze; all lean lines and languid muscle, and you almost couldn’t look away. He asked if he could shower with you, and gently washed you and touched you, cupping your breasts and trailing his hands down your sides with reverent care. He passed his thumbs over your hardened nipples and kneaded your breasts until you gasped and tipped your head back, eyes closed. He teased between your legs with his fingertips, and then when you turned the shower off, he kissed your forehead. In a rush of magic, both your bodies were completely dry and your skin glowed softly with a thousand, dewy, golden sparkles. You beamed up at him, and he kissed you.

When he drew back, he led you by the hand into the bedroom and you lay down on the bed, heart racing. He knelt between your parted knees and you stared openly at his beautiful body. He looked like a statue come to life, and his cock had been more than half-hard ever since the shower, even as he turned his attention wholly on you and skimmed his palms up your thighs. You parted your legs a little wider for him and he bowed forward to kiss along your inner thigh until you shivered and lay back on the pillow behind you with a gasp.

He kissed you and tasted you, moaning softly before letting his tongue sweep up over you. He took your sensitive clit between his lips and kissed you there as well, and then he slid his arms under your thighs, lay down on his front, and you lost yourself to the pleasure of his mouth.

You lost count of how many times he made you come that night, with his tongue and with his fingers, but he never asked for more than you were ready to give.

“Come on me,” you murmured. You had no idea how well your current contraception would withstand a magical fae, but you were pretty sure you were safe with that, and when you asked, he nodded.

His fingers were slick from where he’d made you come, again, and he closed his hand around his cock with a low groan that dissolved into a gasp as he brought himself to the brink. He glowed gold again and you saw those ears made of light and the tail gleaming vividly behind him just as he spilled over your stomach with a muted grunt and another beautiful moan.

The golden light suffused the room, and you watched his expression as he came — open and vulnerable and achingly beautiful — and wished more than anything that he would stay.

When you woke in the morning, you expected to wake alone, but the warm pressure of Rowe’s body pressed against your back and the weight of his arm across your waist drew a little inhale of surprise from you. Apparently that was enough to wake him, because he kissed the back of your head and mumbled a sleepy good morning into your hair.

He was hard too, you realised, and you deliberately rocked your hips back against him.

Rowe let out a grunt and his hand shifted to your hips, drawing himself closer to you with a languid, answering roll of his hips.

“I don’t know if the fae have weekends,” you said, “But today is Saturday. I don’t have to go in to work…”

“Good,” he said. “I’m not sure I could let you go anywhere today after last night.” He said it with a laugh that told you he would let you do anything you liked, and you rolled over to face him. The softness in his smile brought one of your own to your lips, and he slid his hand down over your breast and then down between your legs.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he slipped his fingers easily inside you, and you rolled onto your back as he started a rhythm that would end in the kind of pleasure you had only ever dreamed of before him.

He smiled and kissed your cheek without his fingers once faltering, and whispered in your ear, “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me.”

You gasped and bucked, and almost missed his promise.

“I’ll stay with you forever.”

Thanks for reading this story, and I hope you’ll consider reblogging it (as well as leaving a like) if you enjoyed it, since that will help others find it.

Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Library/Story Archive Blog

#kitsune #male kitsune #male fox spirit #fox spirit #fox shapeshifter #fae #shapeshifter #male kitsune x female reader #female reader #male fae x female reader #fae x reader #exophilia #monster boyfriend #kitsune boyfriend

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argreion · 2 months

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Who knew your next-door neighbor was your panty thief?

Warnings: Panty sniffing, of course. Masturbation. Scent kink (?) Voyeurism from BOTH? Creepy Leon is kinda hehe, y'know? We love a little twisted fantasy.

We be burned at the stake for being horny. ✨ Stupid horny thoughts into one! Also kill me for the ending I had one in mind so... Erm... Shitty ending🤗(I forgot I lost motivation :'D)

Cough, cough, so, you decided to move into an apartment! Good for you! It's affordable, got a great view, and the landlord isn't an ass! Life feels good, but you know it's short-lived. Especially when you start noticing your panties being stolen constantly. Next day, appearing with crust, and the faint smell of cum? It sends shivers down your spine...

Having to rely on your older neighbor, Leon, to save the day. He's charming and strong, and he knows how to sneak around. (We don't talk about how he punched the vending machine to get you what you wanted.) Besides, he's got a super cool job! There's nothing wrong with him, totally! Unless...

Your hope to catch this panty thief crumbled, watching Leon stroke himself. You just got home, you were tired, stressed... Yet your favorite pair of panties in his hand, crusted and unwashed. Disgusting. Fuckin' vile old man he was. Couldn't help but watch as his hand moved up and down. The way he looked so pathetic honestly turned you on. You shouldn't even be looking, but you did.

Leon's hips bucked into his hand, soft shlicks coming from it. His eyes shut as he stroked himself off. Oblivious to the fact, that you were just watching. Heat creeping into your core as you watch the older male get off. Hearing his voice murmur sweet, perverted words,

“Smells so good... Must've been from yesterday.”

Why did he say yesterday? Only God above knows you did 'self-loving'. Did he use this opportunity to plant cameras? Wait, does that mean you should start looking around for them? Actually, would you be able to find them? The only thing you recall Leon saying about his job is that he does physical work for the government. Followed with a smile, and a charming wink. Making you not want to pry anymore, remembering the way you giggled at his mannerisms.

This mannerism, though? You can't even giggle. Watching a middle-aged pervert get off to you was... Still so disgusting, but you liked it? Liked the way he'd sniff your panties, the way his hips bucked as he took a quick whiff, and how'd he fall back onto your bed. Drawing you in closer, peeking through the door.

Now wrapping your panties around his cock, pre-cum staining the fabric. So, that's also what he does? That's why they got crusty... And also smelled a little weird at points. Was it bad to say you were getting aroused? Free little porn show to watch and with a hot neighbor? God damn, sign you up!

If Leon had to be honest, he's only keeping this act up because you were watching. Getting off on the fact you were watching him defile your underwear, not even trying to stop him. The thought that entered his head sent him over the edge.

Fucking himself into your cunt, watching as you sing praises and his name. Man didn't believe in God anymore but for a supposed angel like you? Maybe he'd change his faith, all just for you. The groan that came from his lips said it all.

Motherfucker was in too deep.

You jumped as his hips bucked up into the air, followed by a stream of cloudy release. Saturating the fabric with his 'love'. What'd he even love about you? The fact that you're innocent compared to him? Sure, he'd dream about the day he'd be able to ruin your life. Wrapping his hand around your throat and plow into you. Might even force you to stay with him. But for now, that could wait.

The post-nut clarity hit him, his eyes widening. Staring at your panties in his hand, now icky with globs of his cum. Ugh, why'd he do this? Having to awkwardly sit there, talking to the voice in his mind.

Did I really just jerk off with a girl's panties?

Even if he was mentally scolding himself, you weren't. Enjoying every second, the stroking, the release, and watching his thumb rub over the wet patch he created. Should've made Mr. Kennedy rub his thumb over your wet patch. Manicured fingers playing with your needy clit, flicking it. Riding his face, feeling the burn from his stubble.

Oh my God, shut up! You shouldn't be thinking this!

You were raised with morals (hopefully), and this isn't exactly a virtue you were raised with. You could hear your parents screaming at you in the back of your mind.

The adrenaline rushed through your body as he finally finished putting everything away. Forcing you to retreat back into another room, covering your mouth as you heard your bedroom door open. Followed by light footsteps trailing down the hallway. At least you didn't have to hold your breath as you heard the front door click shut.

Good, he's gone. Letting you slip back into your room, rummaging through your dresser. C'mon, you can find it, you have to wash it! It's disgusting, why the fuck would he throw your dirty underwear with clean underwear? Couldn't help but say you were peeved.

Though your friend down below would say otherwise. That flame inside of you started alight as you stared at the underwear. Letting yourself be dragged to your bed and fingers moving on their own. Laying back in those very sheets that pervert just masturbated on. Fingers already rubbing yourself off.

Those cameras he placed around also liked you rubbing yourself off. Already retreating back to his 'humble' abode, bare and full of whiskey bottles. Already watching the free show you oh so graciously brought him. His reward for keeping you 'safe'. Safe from this thief, the pervert, himself. Leaning back in that worn-down couch he needed to replace a year or two ago. Fishing himself out like he didn't just cum on his neighbor's panties. Eyes squinting down at his phone as he began to stroke himself again.

Play with yourself more, baby. He's gotta ruin that pair next, and then the cycle will start over and over again. Don't worry, he has all the time in the world to watch you...

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine

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lcvernat · 2 years

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Doodles | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Natasha has a habit of drawing on your hand whenever she’s bored.

Word Count: 692

Content Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, too much fluff actually

A/N: i’ve returned. probably. hopefully. maybe. thought i’d come back with a bang aka a very very short (writing over 1k words rn is frankly impossible i’m sorry) but sickeningly sweet little fic. i got this idea from a cute gif i saw and thought it was cuteee so… enjoy! also happy international lesbian day to my fellow lesbians, we rock.

Natasha Romanoff was many things. A complex woman of many layers, and very few got to uncover all of them. Even you were still constantly finding out new things about her. A recent quirk that you had discovered was her love for doodling on your hand. She’d only started doing it recently: during meetings when she was bored, on the Quinjet to get rid of the post-mission jitters, and generally anytime you were near her.

A few months ago, the team was sat in a particularly boring mission. So boring, in fact, that you would have much rather been in your room tackling the mountain of paperwork on your desk than sat listening to Steve blabber on about God knows what (you’d stopped listening about halfway through). Someone lightly taking ahold of your hand and the tickling sensation of a pen gliding across your skin was what brought you out of your daydream and into the present.

You looked at your girlfriend, Natasha, to find her occupied with drawing a little heart on your hand. “What are you doing?” You whispered, briefly glancing up at Steve then looking back at Natasha when you were satisfied that he wasn’t looking.

“Doodling,” she said simply, the tip of her tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on drawing various little stars, hearts and smiley faces all over your hand. You smiled at her, even though she couldn’t see it, before entering your daydream again, more than content to let your girlfriend busy herself with turning your hand into her own personal canvas.

That was when it had started, and it kept happening more and more frequently to the point that your hand was constantly covered in various little doodles and you had started to carry a pen around with you at all times incase Nat ever needed it. The team had started to take notice of Natasha’s little habit but no one dared question her on it. Steve had tried once, to reprimand her on not listening during a meeting, and she had sent him such a withering stare that you swore you quite literally saw the 6’1 super soldier shrink into himself in fear. She returned to drawing her cute doodles as if she hadn’t nearly just sent Captain America running as Steve awkwardly regained his composure before picking up where he left off in his speech. No one ever mentioned the newly gained habit after that.

Day after day, new drawings would appear on your hand. Old ones would get washed away, only to instantly get replaced by fresh doodles. They started to get more eccentric after time: stick figures of the two of you, funny drawings of various Avengers (she’d drawn a surprisingly good drawing of Clint sleeping once with drool at the side of his mouth. You had to try your hardest to cover that up for the rest of the day), and she’d even started to leave little messages on your hand that ranged from ‘I love you’ to ‘Tony’s hair looks weird today’.

You found it completely adorable, and you cherished the various drawings she done and the little messages she left you. Even though the redhead had already enraptured you, mind body and soul, letting her draw on you was your way of telling her that you were hers and she could do whatever she wanted with you. Natasha could draw on every inch of your skin and you’d let her.

Natasha Romanoff was many things, and you had never painted her as an artist before, but you had quickly learned to never be surprised when she unveiled another part of herself to you. You love her, everything about her, all the little quirks that only you notice because you pay just that much attention to her and all of the quirks about her that you haven’t yet discovered. Everything about her is a masterpiece that you can’t tear your eyes away from, and you find you don’t want to. You want to untangle every part of her, learn everything you can possibly learn about her, because she’s yours. Forever and always.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz

dm me, send me an ask or reply to be added to my taglist!

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow #black widow x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff comfort #natalia romanova #natasha romanoff x gender neutral reader

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danfrik · 6 months

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CAN I GET A WA-HOO??

I'm bacK, yes, you can all see that.

I finally finished this silly little drawing of mine and god I love it, and yes I'm going to make more drawings of them 'cause I have no self-control, also

HELLO, LGBTQ+ COMMUNITY

⚠️Spoilers ahead for both series⚠️

So... about those takes that I have about this two (and a few others that I plan on drawing, don't worry, we'll get there), well, you can see that Phoenix is Crowley while Miles is Aziraphale...

It makes sense, I swear-

At first I was thinking of them but reverse (Phoenix as Aziraphale and Miles as Crowley) because, ngl they could fit either role anyway.

But character-wise? I think this is the best, mostly because of interactions the four of them had on their respective series.

To give an example, this dialogue in Ace Attorney:

It feels strangely similar to Aziraphale's "hereditary enemies" dialogue in the first season.

I might need to write some things down or else I will forget, fuck- (I'm writing this without any plan, help)

But hear me out, I'm not crazy-

Just take a look at Aziraphale's and Miles' fashion sense, that old-timey style they both have (and it's even more obvious with Miles' debut suit), that stubborn personality and undying faith about their side (Prosecutor's Office and heaven), etc.

While Phoenix's and Crowley's personality are more care-free, going their own way, their own side, bluffing away their problems and always chasing or following their "best friend" anywhere.

Phoenix getting a law degree just so he can reach Miles and save him, Crowley always being there for Aziraphale when needed and saving him...

Do you see where I'm getting at?

Also, you remember that scene with the bookshop being on fire and Crowley thinking that Aziraphale was dead?

..."Prosecutor Miles Edgeworth chooses death."

Yeah... the only difference is that Aziraphale didn't dissapear for a whole year and much less left a cryptid ass note behind and it wasn't really his fault-

But the feeling is quite similar, isn't it?

Now, after all the sad or complex feelings aside, let's see more happy things that I noticed:

Crowley's fondness of children / Phoenix's habit of adopting kids anywhere he goes.

Aziraphale liking yellow because it reminds him of Crowley's eyes / Miles finding a particular shade of blue relaxing once in a while.

Crowley's tendency of following Aziraphale like a dog following its owner / Phoenix's constant chasing after Miles (and also having a dog-like personality.)

Aziraphale not admitting that Crowley is his friend (or that he likes his company) / Miles also not admitting Phoenix is his friend (or that he likes his company.)

Yeah... the pattern is getting more obvious the more you look at it...

But I guess this is enough for one post, if you read it all the way, thank you for indulging my delusional brain!

Any comments, requests or... anything, really, will be much appreciated :DD

(If there are some errors, mispellings or anything of the sort, feel free to correct me because even though I've been learning english since I was like five years old, still isn't my first language so yeah👍)

#ace attorney #miles edgeworth #phoenix wright #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #narumitsu #wrightworth #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #alternate universe #im just a little delulu guy #i swear it makes sense #i'm not crazy #you are

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messrmoonyy · 2 months

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- of smoking and dancing

Tess servopoulos x reader

Request- I know smoking is bad but seeing gifs of Anna smoking made me desperate to see Tess smoking it’s so hot somehow 😭😭 flirting and sharing a pack? Ahhhhhhh! ‘ combined with a bunch of requests for some kind of fluffy follow up to this drabble here

Warnings- I guess slightly ooc Tess. Shes a little awkward. A little soft. ( WC- 2.2k )

A/N- don’t smoke kids lmao. I really didn’t feel like posting this tbh. Some of my tess readers have been VILE in my ask box lately. Pls remember I am a human being. And not a word machine ready to churn out fic as you demand it.

Tess masterlist

“ you are a hard woman to find “ Tess tensed slightly as you spoke behind her, her hand loitering a little awkwardly half raised between her mouth and her side, cigarette balancing between her fingers. She collected herself quickly, bringing it back to her lips.

“ maybe you just don’t look hard enough “ that made you laugh a little, the small quiet kind meant to be shared between two people only. The kind that meant you weren’t trying to draw attention.

In all honesty she liked to think she was a little hard to find. Prided herself on her ability to go unnoticed when she chose it, slip around and keep herself to herself. She didn’t like company much. Not really. Yours though… she didn’t mind that. On the times she allowed herself to have it.

“ didn’t know you smoked “ you mused moving to stand beside her, tucking yourself into the shadowed spot behind the Bison that Tess had secluded herself to. She’d only left her house in the first place because Joel had asked, making stupid comments about you as he did. Acting like some burly Texan Cupid. Ass. But she had slipped away as soon as she’d seen the opportunity to. Not that she’d gone very far.

She didn’t quite know why she hadn’t just gone home. Or maybe she did. Maybe she knew exactly why she had chosen to hang around a little. Smoke the pack of cigarettes she’d been slowly making her way though since she’d found them. As if by some miracle they’d make her pluck up the courage to well… do something.

“ I don’t “ she didn’t. Not really. It’d never been her thing. She preferred the burning warmth of liquor than smoke. But she wanted an excuse to be outside and not look like some creeper loitering in the dark. And maybe they didn’t have the stress relieving factor of a glass of god knows what Tommy had been brewing. But they did have a little. And didn’t come with a free headache.

“ funny that… can I? “ Tess shrugged, half expecting to see you reach out and take it from her hand. But instead your leant forward a little, lips parting slightly in a way that made Tess’ skin flush. She placed it between your lips and watched you smile as you leant back, taking it from her fingers “ smokings so gross “ you sighed, blowing out a steady cloud of smoke “ specially these. How fucking old are they? “

“ I’m not forcing you to take the damn thing “ that made you smile again, tipping your head to the side to watch her light up another “ also… I don’t know. Found them in a house in the town by the creek trails “ you hummed a response, nose crinkling a little as you blew out some smoke and turned your wrist to look at the stale thing in between your fingers.

“ why you hiding away out here anyway? “ Tess shrugged leaning her arms down on the fence in front of her. You moved to stand beside her and she knew you were looking down at her without even needing to see your face. Could feel it.

“ just wanted some air “

“ sure “ you scoffed, holding your hand out over the fence to tap away the ash “ I always see you you know. How you turn up at these stupid things, hang around a little then slip away “ Tess shrugged again, glancing up at you. You flicked away your cigarette half smoked and turned to lean back against the fence, something clearly going on inside your mind that she could not figure out yet.

“ I don’t really like crowds “

“ I figured that much “ you said with a smile, glancing back down at her again in a way that made Tess’ skin flush “ you might like it if you involved yourself a little. Even just danced some “ it was Tess’ turn to scoff and she too tossed her cigarette and straightened herself out, resting her hip against the wood.

“ I don’t dance “

“ so you won’t dance with me? “ it was the first time you’d asked since she’d rejected you the last time. In the months in between you hadn’t seemed deterred by it. Had taken it on and acted as if it had never happened, continuing to try spend time with her and Tess had been trying her best not to push you away.

In fact she had been trying her hardest to actively try and be… friends. But sometimes those weird hopeful feelings would surface within her and she terrified herself. Would take two steps back from the one step she had taken forward. Not that you ever seemed particularly put off by it.

She still hadn’t answered you and gave a small sigh.

“ one dance. And if you absolutely hate it then you can run off back out here, hide away in the dark like some little cave troll and smoke your stale ass cigarettes and I’ll leave you to it “ the smile on your face as she spoke had her mind made up before she could even truly decide that she did or did not want to go back inside.

“ one “ you beamed at her as she said, truly a utter ray of sunshine on her moody and miserable self.

She tucked her cigarettes and matches down into her jean pockets and followed you back inside. As the night was wearing on it seemed a little less crowded than when she had first arrived, which she liked. Less people to look at her. Less people to talk.

Though Joel and Ellie clocked her the moment she stepped back inside, Joel looking incredibly smug watching you grab a hold of her hand and lead her out into the empty space that was serving as a dance area.

“ I think- “

“ don’t back out on me now Tess “ you said in a challenging tone, smile so cheeky she wanted to kiss it right off of you. And wasn’t that one of those terrible two steps back kind of thoughts.

“ I don’t know the steps “

“ no one knows the steps you just.. go with it. Just hold my hand I got you “ but before you could so much as twirl around the music switched from the previous upbeat song, to something slower. Her eyes darted over to where the music was coming from and she narrowed her eyes in annoyance.

Her eyes found Maria who looked incredibly proud of herself, even with Tess giving her a glare that could kill the woman she was sure. She froze as your arms looped around her neck, eyes leaving Maria to look at you instead.

“ this is better, no steps to this kinda song “ she felt like an awkward teenage boy at his first school dance, with no idea how to even look at a girl never mind dance with one.

But it felt nice. To have you holding onto her like that, standing so close there was barely an inch between the two of your bodies. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around your waist and you smiled.

“ see “ you said “ easy “ she could feel Maria’s eyes on her. Joel’s. Ellie’s. But it almost didn’t annoy her as much as it had at first. Because of the way you were looking up at her, the at you were so close together she could smell the shampoo you used. She was hyper aware of every part of your bodies that touched, skin burning and prickling at the sensation.

“ I don’t think you can class this as dancing “ you laughed a little and shrugged.

“ hmm maybe not. But it’s nice right? “ you were talking softly, directly to her and not for the prying eyes or ears of anyone around you.

She mulled over the question. Of course it was nice. It was beyond nice. It was what she had spent months pining for and moping around about. Hating herself for wanting you close and hating herself for how far she seemed to be from the woman back in Boston she had shaped herself into.

“ it’s nice “ you smiled warmly, arms tightening a little around her.

“ you’re doing me a favour too you know. Some guy from farming rotation? Been asking me to dance all night. Think he’ll get the picture now “ that made her chest tighten a little. Some stupid worry that, had you only asked her to dance to scare off some guy? “ I only really wanted to dance with you though “ you said silencing her fears before she could ever even dream to make them vocal.

The slow songs continued to play. And you both stayed there in that gentle swaying embrace, occasionally speaking about random things and fess listening diligently to everything you had to say to her. Eventually the crowd grew bored, demanding something a little more upbeat. And as much as Tess hadn’t particularly wanted to be there with you at first, she now didn’t want it to end. But unfortunately it had to.

You sighed as the song changed, taking a step back from her and rolling your eyes. Tess felt awkward again. And annoyed at herself for feeling awkward. She was ready to flee back outside and hide but you took her hand.

“ do you wanna go get some air? “ you asked her. She wondered if you sensed her discomfort, could feel the heat radiating off her “ kinda hot in here huh? “

“ yeah “

It was chilly outside. The temperature having dropped a lot since she had gone inside with you. But it was a nice contrast on her overheated skin, a nice break from the noise too. There were a few people lingering around, a few kids running around and playing with sticks as if they were swords. It made her smile.

“ I love being outside at night“ you mused, sitting yourself down on one of the benches outside. She slotted herself in beside you, chill escaping her as you shuffled close to her “ pretty. Calm “ Tess noticed you still hadn’t let go of her hand that you had grabbed to lead her back outside

Tess said nothing. Instead tried to internally process the entire situation. The night as a whole. How much she had enjoyed allowing herself to be in your company.

“ oh oh look. See him over there? That’s the one I told you about “ you said and nudged her with your shoulder, nodding over to a man leaving the bison looking a little worse for wear.

“ he seems… nice “ you laughed at that and snuggled a little closer to Tess “ you cold? “

“ hmm little “ she hesitated for a moment before freeing the arm trapped between you both and looping it around your shoulders. She felt you physically relax against her, sighing softly. The feelings were creeping again. And the fear that came alongside them. The fear of being vulnerable. Of letting someone in.

“ so you don’t. You don’t like him? “ she spoke in some attempt to derail her thought process.

“ I don’t like him “ you said immediately, not even a second thought “ I like someone else “ her chest hurt. A pang deep down that she couldn’t ignore if she tried.

And she hated it. She hated it so much. That she had allowed herself to feel. To strip back the layers of scary Boston Tess, leave herself some silly little crush and let herself be vulnerable.

“ I’m sure they’re very lucky “ she practically whispered.

“ they don’t even realise “

You turned your head slightly, cold nose brushing against her neck. She suddenly felt warm again. An anxious warmth radiating from her chest in a way she was unfamiliar with. Her old self would be laughing at her.

“ have you told them “ she felt you smile, felt the way your cheeks lifted and a small laugh vibrated past your lips.

“ the signs are obvious “ your face lifted from her neck and was suddenly incredibly close to hers. She licked her lips nervously. She wanted to kiss you. God did she want to kiss you. Old Tess would’ve. Old Tess would’ve kissed you months ago.

But that wasn’t her anymore. This was her. Sat with her arms around a girl that she liked. But didn’t like her. She was a fool. Really she was.

“ you’re a very smart woman Tess “ you started, voice low. Soft “ But fuck you’re oblivious as hell sometimes “ and then your lips were against hers, kissing her softly but with a quiet determination. She froze at first, unsure on how to react. But then she was kissing you back, hand reaching up to cup your cheek. Your hand twisted into the collar of her sweater like you didn’t want her to let go.

And she didn’t plan on it. Kissing you softly, slowly, savouring every single moment in case you decided you regretted it and she’d never get to kiss you again.

It seemed to last forever, so sensual and slow and she forgot where she was. Forgot about everything other than how incredible it felt to kiss you, to feel your cold hands in the collar of her sweater. To feel your cheeks flush with warmth under her fingers. She could taste the smoke, smell the fruitiness of your hair, the softness of your skin.

She didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to stop.

But all good things must eventually come to an end.

When you did finally pull away it was barely a few centimetres, brushing your nose against hers before pressing your foreheads together. Her thumb was brushing softly across your cheekbone, reluctant to let you go.

“ you should’ve let me do that a long time ago “ you whispered, a smile tugging at your lips.

“ maybe I should’ve “

#please stop acting like you are allowed to demand content and then passively consume it #and stop attacking me because I am a multifandom blog posting multifandom content #also #I’m trying out new layouts and shit idk man #tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #tess tlou #the last of us fanfiction #Anna Torv #x you #fluff #tess lives #Tess lives au

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meanbossart · 3 months

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DU drow asks time

Lore questions/sweet messages/stuff that made me laugh that's about DU drow specifically that I decided to compile in a single post!

First of all, "outraged to be used as a medium for old man gay divorce" is a hysterical sentence LOL

As for his thoughts on the Ansur debacle? Negative ones. He hates the emperor, he doesn't care about his third-time-twist real identity, he doesn't particularly care about Wyll either (well - he kind of finds him entertaining, he's kind of really frustrated by him, it's complicated) but he saved his dad on a whim to spite Mizora anyway. BUT HEY, all that trouble would have been worthwhile if he's about to get an ancient dragon fighting alongside him - this old duke sounds a little too confident in this fairy tale, but stranger things have happened, right?

Then the situation unfolds as it does, and if he wasn't eager enough to use that orphic hammer before, he certainly is now. There is very little that the Emperor does past Act 3 that DU drow doesn't find a way to twist into something that confirms his resolve against him. If he could have taken Ansur's side in that fight, he would have - not that he shed any tears over killing him either.

Sick sword though, that helped soothe his nerves a bit and I'm sure spared everyone a little bit of a tantrum at camp later.

HAHAHAHA I can't confirm nor deny because I see so few large body-type elves as it is (which is fair, elves aren't usually... That massive). I did set age to 50% because it does look a little weird when it's all smooth. Maybe that's the trick?

Though I guess if you find it unsettling, then... No wonder it suits him! however this just looks like an impressively handsome fella to me, to be honest. I insist on fucking him up further whenever I draw him for that reason.

Thank you so much for following along and for giving the fic a try!!! And no worries, english isn't my native tongue either so I've been there 😎👍

I do actually have a couple of very short comics planned that take place pre-tadpole, but my backlog of WIPs is... Massive. Not to mention the commission work I do (currently not taking any more). I have one that's about his first interaction with Orin and another about a business dinner with Gortash gone-wrong, but I have no clue when I'll be able to work on them. Hopefully soon though!

You know, I've always hoped that after I died I'd be remembered as the guy who inspired others to make their nipples card-swipe-able.

Joke's aside, thank you LOL I love that my guys' nips have taken up non-insignificant room in your mind, it's always comforting to know that you aren't the only one.

Piercings and the such aren't really his style though. While he finds his scar-work weirdly comforting, he isn't so interested in aesthetic results as much as he just enjoys having pain inflicted upon him in a controlled environment, by people that he loves - He doesn't recall this post-tadpole, but the scars were a result of a kind of... Recurring ritual between himself and Orin that served to replace normal intimacy, pretty much.

Since you touched on it though, I do like to believe that Astarion finds his cut-up body fun, both on the eyes and on the hands LOL.

I'm starting to think you guys are all in on this. It's like the fifth time someone catches me in the act - god damn it, is it that obvious that I wanna slide down Peter Steele's cold corpse like he's a a ride at the Magical Ice kingdom... Which is to say, yes, both the guy and his music are not-so-lowkey a big inspiration behind a lot of DU drow's characterization!

That's all for now folks, thank you so much for the asks!!! This isn't all of them but I try not to spam people's feeds when I can help it/space them out. I see all of your messages and I guarantee you that if I have an interesting answer for them, you will see a reply eventually!

#ps: i only made that peter steele joke because i know he would be ok with it LOL #ask #DU drow #bg3 spoilers

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lovemari · 3 months

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IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Family - Scaramouche x Reader

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

Pairing: Scaramouche x Reader

Synopsis: Scaramouche realizes that you're not in the best life, so he makes it better.

Notes: I want to warn you that you have an abusive father in this relationship. words such as “slutty” are used. though, it does have a cute ending!! Also, this isn't stepcest!! I want to point that out. Ei doesn't adopt you! She just treats you like your own! Please don't take it the wrong way.

Scaramouche heard about you from his friends, though he never cared to listen. He didn't pay attention to those who never gained his interest.

That was until today. Scaramouche was your partner for the upcoming history project. He let out a quiet groan as he walked to your desk.

“Listen.” he ordered, “this is a huge part of our grade. Don't mess up.” You took a step back, intimidated by his demand. with a slow, uneasy nod, you sat back to your desk.

Scaramouche looked down with annoyance, “let's go to your house after school.” You looked at him, about to protest but scaramouche cut you off, “we're doing it, whether you like it or not. got it?”

You didn't say anything, though you wanted to. you slumped into your seat, your hands unable to stay still. You were nervous.

After school, you allowed scaramouche to follow you home. It was against your will but you knew Scaramouche's personality quite well.

You quietly opened the door, hoping not to disturb. Scaramouche snickered, “are you always like this?” he judged, clearly getting under your skin. His voice stopped when he looked up to see a tall man, “you slutty child.” He snapped, looking furious. Scaramouche realized that this man was talking about [name]. The man slapped them, “you thought you could be quiet, huh? thought you could sneak in a boy for god knows why?!” he assumed, clearly thinking of the worst.

Scaramouche decided to step in, “we're here for a project, sir.” he explained, trying to keep a modest attitude to the man. The man spit at [name] before walking away.

Scaramouche sighed in relief before helping you up, “is he your father?” he questioned, answered by a nod from you. Scaramouche felt disgusted but hid it, he didn't want to show any vulnerability.

Scaramouche went upstairs, with [name] slowly following behind. He went into your room and locked the door. [Name’s] room was quite babyish. He figured that you probably didn't receive a lot of things.

Scaramouche felt apologetic, “sorry.” he sympathized. It wasn't a lot but [name] already started crying. They hugged scaramouche.

“There, there.” Scaramouche comforted, patting your back. He gave you a light head pat, showing vulnerability and care. Even though he didn't want to, he felt like you needed it.

A few weeks passed by and scaramouche has been taking you to your house every single day. He explained that you should stay away from your father. Although it sounded wrong, it was clearly the right choice.

You and scaramouche didn't really do much. Scaramouche often gave you items to draw with. He thought of it as some sort of therapy for you. He often put some ideas on the table and encouraged you to recreate it.

You felt like this was your second home. Scaramouche's mother, Ei, was extremely sweet and caring, despite her fearful and intimidating figure and occupation.

Ei felt like you were another child, going as far as preparing a bedroom for you and smothering you with love.

As for your father, he didn't care. He told ei to “take the child.” and that “he didn't want it.” Ei did exactly that.

Even though you weren't exactly in the family, you felt loved by the family. You had some feelings for scaramouche, though you never admired them. not now, at least.

You knew scaramouche felt the same way. He often kissed your head, whenever you were drawing. You loved it.

You were basically living with your boyfriend's family. A family who took care of you and treated you as their own and most importantly, a boyfriend who loved you.

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ceruleanangel · 2 months

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The Diamond of Zaun- Chapter One

Pairings: Vi x Reader could be more later...

Tags: f!reader, performer!reader

Content Warnings: Alcohol, creepy old men, angst

a/n: heyy... how y'all doing? .... ik i haven't posted in a few years while, but I decided to finally share the absolute lore of my maladaptive daydreams. This first part is pretty introduction heavy, but the following parts will be more content heavy plus there might be chances for audience participation.

Chapter Two

“Do you think I could ever be popular enough to perform on topside?” you spoke, winding the dial on the old radio, slightly hitting the side of the box, allowing the voice of a woman to flow through the static. The pink-haired girl chuckled and shook her head, trying and failing to wind a white bandage around her knuckles post-fight.

“Ugh, I’m serious! What do you think, Vi?” you move to sit next to her, thigh pressing against hers as you take her hand in your own and rewind the bandage to properly care for the wound. Vi looks away, thinking, as you finish tying up her bandage, a pout grows on your face as the pinkette doesn’t respond. You’re looking towards the radio before you feel two hands take hold of your face, turning your face to look into her blue eyes,

“I think you’ll be so popular that everyone will be all over you… but I’ll fight ‘em off!

“...I’ll protect you.”

You smile against her hands, “You promise!?”

“I promise.”

Current Time

The neon pink of the billboard reflects the wet in your eyes. The figure in the center of the sign stands posed on a stage, with bright glittering eyes, lush lips, blowing a kiss to any passersby who might look up at her image. Her hair and clothes flow about her, as she beckons with one hand, convincing anyone who sees her to join her, to join the party. The neon words on the sign flicker on and off against your face in bright shades of green and pink, until you feel a harsh shove against your shoulder. Crowds of people push past to get to their nooks and crannies of the Underground. You wipe at your eyes and dive back into the crowd, heading to your own dark corner of the city, glancing at the sign one last time,

Come join the Diamond of Zaun at The Last Drop!

Your body moves with the music, weaving in between the tables as the mic in your hand propels your voice all about the bar. Normally the patrons of The Last Drop go about their business, passively listening to whatever entertainment is provided, but not now. Not today. Today, with you on stage, the bar is bustling, tables filled, eyes on you. No one dares interrupt or draw attention from the Diamond of Zaun.

Your sweet siren voice entrances admirers, while your body moves in tune with the rhythm, your sequined two-piece outfit catching the lights of the club, ensuring all eyes stay on you. You breathe out the last verse of your song, returning to the stage. And now for the time of the night that many have leaked forward to since you stepped on the stage. In between the songs of your set, the patron who spends the most during the duration of the previous song gets your exclusive, undivided attention during your cooldown between songs.

You step off the stage and grit your teeth, forming it into a smile. You beg and plead to the gods that your ‘guest’ won’t be like the one from your previous performance, a man old enough to be your great-great-grandfather from Topside. Who paid just enough money to have your guards conveniently look away when he breathed his rum in your face and slid his wrinkly hands down your thigh. You followed your guards through the crowd to a table near the back, sitting with some middle-aged man who spent all his current and future wealth to have a few minutes with you. You laugh at all his jokes and flash your winning smile in his direction, asking him to buy you a drink, recommending the most expensive one on the menu, draining every last penny from his wallet. Though, once the well runs dry you blow him a signature kiss goodbye and make your way back up to the stage for the last song in your set.

You start to move your body, ending the night with a jazzier, slower song. You’re almost done when you glimpse a flash of pink hair from the crowd. Your breath hitches as your eyes flick back to a familiar short, pink haircut, thinking that you imagined her face, and it will be some other rose-haired guest.

But no, It's her. It's Vi.

Her face can be seen as clear as day, the lights reflect off of your dress and into the crowd like a disco ball, placing a perfect spotlight on her face. She looks up at you from the back of the club, a look of confusion, sadness, and disbelief dawning on her face. “What is she doing here?” “I thought she was dead!” “Who’s that blue-haired girl with her?” Hundreds of thoughts and questions fly through your head but a nudge on your leg from your guard brings you back to the present: on stage, in front of a crowd of people who are watching your every move.

You quickly snap yourself out of it and flash your smile about the crowd, winking at a few to wipe the memory of your mask slip from their minds. You continue the set, adding a bit more flare to your performance to recover from the slip-up, once enough time has passed, you glance back at the spot where Vi once was, to find an absence in her stead. You try to subtly look around, desperate to catch one more glimpse of the girl, finding nothing but disappointment. Despite being frazzled, you finish up the song and bid goodbye to your adorers.

You make your way to the back of house and walk down the hallway, slightly leaning on the wall as you take off your high heels. You rub at your temples and rationalize what you saw tonight.

I know she’s gone, there's no possible way for her to be here, so I must have imagined her… but why did I see her so vividly?

Head in your palm, you lean over and push open the door to your dressing room, head spinning. But what really makes your whole world spin completely off its axis, is when you open the door to Vi, reclining in the middle of your couch, toying with one of your sparkly mics.

“Hey, Diamond of Zaun, been a while, hasn’t it?

Chapter Two

#fem! reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #caitvi #caitvi x reader #arcane #caitlyn arcane #caitlyn x reader #arcane imagines #TheDiamondofZaun #arcane x reader

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fushitism · 24 days

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the chemistry in my brain is altered in unspeakable ways whenever i think about Sans.

JUST WHO EXACTLY IS THIS GUY

its so easy, almost too easy, not to take him seriously and its exactly why his character can often be, well, i wouldn't say overlooked, this guy's pretty popular, but his traits tend to be.... diluted?? simplified??? for lack of better words..?

like yeah, he likes ketchup. yeah, he's laid-back n "lazy". yeah, he's a punny guy. yeah, he goes above n beyond for his brother's happiness... but what else?

do we even know much about papyrus? that guy's whole deal deserves a whole separate post!

CAN WE PLEEAAASE RECALL HOW THIS PIECE OF LORE WAS CASUALLY (in true toby fox fashion) SENT TO OUR EMAILS ?? NEVER TO BE ELABORATED UPON EVER AGAIN

why'd sans have to pull a sock incident on us at a time like this </3

PAPYRUS DID NOT MEAN IT SO LITERALLY AND YOU KNOW THAT, SANS, YOU JUST WANTED TO BE A LITTLE SHIT!!!!!!

their life before snowdin.. oh what i'd give to hear all about it...

this got me thinking, though.

we know sans likely has an affinity for quantum physics, temporal complexities and astronomy (though the latter is irrelevant to the point i'll be making)

he can teleport for God's sake why are we so unfazed by that

aaaanywho,

so like his Workshop. the one with the broken machine, yeah. look at what toby's once said abt it

why would they (who i assume r alphys + sans ?) try so hard to fix it? it's not like its the CORE (the machine said to be the source of all power 4 the undergound)

what's so important about this rusty, clanky pile of scrap metal?

....

haha lol, remember this?

remember this (x2)?

there's an abstract them here, and its clear he's not talking abt papyrus, frisk or even the player if we were to try n reach so hard.

could it be he is refereing to those in the picture with him?

if so, they must really mean a lot to him

so let's get this straight:

- we know the skelebros were NEW additions to snowdin

- we know they had an OLD life, the picture at the workshop further proving sans also had a social circle, one beyond frisk's recognition which totally strikes me as odd, given this child has been ambushed by almost all monsters at that point

- sans knows about timelines. sans messes with time and space. it's heavily hinted sans has worked in quantum physics (the book[s] found at his place) and he apparently also has some abandoned, broken machine in his workshop (one of which he's presumably tinkered with)

- as a lost soul (but also in geno), sans demonstrates his intense defeatism and resignation saying this like,

.... is sans trying to go back somewhere? do the skelebros come from a different world? a grassy place? r the residents of said place related to the picture in any way? does sans miss them? were they family? friends? lovers?! whoooooooo!1!!1 when!!! where!!!!! what is going on, toby!!!! PLEASEHWHWUE

[inhale]

but you know what, this is fine. pssssh, we don't need any of these answered, haha! no waaay! because while the UT fandom's in up in flames about such matters, toby's probably out there drawing yet another sans x reigen art piece to dish out when we least expect it (please let it be on my biryhday please let it be on my birthd)

#undertale #toby fox #sans undertale #undertale sans #papyrus #papyrus undertale #undertale papyrus #im going crazy

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fuglyjeans · 4 months

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Ok the first time I watched bojack horseman season 6, it sent me in a pretty bad depression spiral. But I just watched it again for the first time in almost 4 years, and it actually fills me with peace. I think I thought the show was saying no one can change, really; bojack will always be just some shitty selfish horse. He can try to do better, but he can't change the lives he's ruined, or outrun the consequences, and he'll always slip up. That made me so sad.

But now i see it more like... yeah hollyhock cut off contact, bojack goes to prison, Diane implies they'll never speak again, Princess Carolyn implies she won't work with Bojack again in the future etc. But at the same time all of these characters still express love to bojack and thankfulness that he was in their life. Even Todd is really kind to bojack in the final episode, despite having every reason to ignore him forever. They draw boundaries as they should. But there's still compassion.

Even though bojack has arguably lost absolutely everything, he's still able to find a little joy in prison putting on a play. And those people will still probably say hi to him from time to time... and after he gets out of prison, who knows, maybe he'll make more progress and find new people, start better relationships. He was already on the up and up... he relapsed, but honestly that happens. Before his relapse he'd been sober for like a year which is pretty amazing.

bojack is messy and his progress is slow. He's deeply flawed and no one is obligated to stay in his life, no one has to respect him after all the shitty things he's done. But what brings him true peace is being honest with himself about that... no memoir or dream role or Oscar win or long-lost sister or university can replace the peace of just being real. Taking accountability. I think by the end bojack is at least starting to realize that and commit it to memory.

I also think it's tempting to feel like post-rehab bojack is all better, he's a new bojack, it's unfair that the reporters and interviewers come after him to ruin his life after he'd just fixed it. He's not the same as Vance Waggoner!! But that's the thing.. even though it's hard, even though it feels unfair, bojack still has the choice to do better. He didn't have to do the 2nd interview. He didn't have to teach at hollyhock's school without asking her if that would be weird. He didn't have to do Horny Unicorn, he didn't have to go back into that party after reading hollyhock's letter. He didn't have to go on one last bender, break into his old house, call Diane and nearly kill himself. It's understandable that he did. It's painful and horrible. But every single time, he could have chosen to walk away, ask for help--maybe not from Diane or PC or Todd, but surely Mr Peanutbutter or he could have just checked into the ER for monitoring. And that would feel sad and humiliating and lonely but he would survive and come out knowing he didnt ruin things this time, even if he felt alone. Its ok to be alone. But he didnt do that... so even though i understand why "new bojack" fucks up again.... it WAS all still his own choice.

I could talk abt this show forever lol God

#blahblahblah #bojack horseman

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melodiousmonsters · 1 year

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Firstly I know you all don't mind three posts in one day but I'm still pointing out that I have done so, I had the day off of school with an ungodly hyperfixation on drawing. Secondly I'm going to utilize my newly developed Spurrit obsession to give some information on the seasonals in the melodious monster chronicles universe.

There's one of each seasonal in this universe (not whiz-bangs though they're special and aren't really seasonals anymore) each of them are the common varient with a few slight differences made to further portray their personalities than what's capable with an 100% cannon design. Spurrit has a beard for example.

They also have names yet again like the celestials do, but that's only important to the hypothetical comic I may make after my monstiary project is done. Speaking of, that's only able to be finished once all the fire, ethereal, magical and mythical rares/epics are released, so that's going to be a few years : ] I'm just as happy as you are about that information. At least my art will be much better then( not saying my current stuff is horrible, I'm actually quite happy with my art, mainly the subject matter but the artistic quality is alright)

Most of the seasonals came into being as a living essence of their holiday that's kept alive solely by that holiday being celebrated. Subconsciously they're programed to keep up their holiday so they don't dissipate back into nothingness. Because their ability to live is solely dependent on their holiday being celebrated they don't age. Each of the seasonals are stuck at an age and they don't physically or mentally develop beyond that.

They can also magically conjure up objects related to their holiday with that same energy from the belief in their holiday. Hypothetically this could be used to summon infinite food for example but the seasonals can't actually comprehend the idea of doing this for more than a few minutes, and they can only come up with the idea in the first place if someone else tells them about it. Some mental inhibiting is needed when you are an immortal god-like organism to not break reality.

Now Spurrit is a bit of a weird case. Firstly his name is just Spurrit, or at least he goes by that, and he uses he/him pronouns as you could see. No one really knows where Spurrit came from but because the other seasonals also seemed to come from nowhere he was just lumped in with them. It's also because the first time he unveiled himself to the monsters early in modern history(which is at most all the knowledge a monster has about the history of the monster world) he actually started perplexpore as a holiday to try and get them to stop focusing solely on rebuilding the basics of soicety after it fell during the catyclysm and you know, explore, do some science. This only sort of worked, some basic machines and the sorts were discovered solely to aid in that previous goal, but it was something and Spurrit was accomplished in his goals. and that just happened so long ago that people mostly forgot that he existed before the holiday, but some seasonals like Carillong(doesn't have a final name yet) DID exist before their holidays were started so even then people still just count him as a seasonal. Whatever he is, he seems to be immortal as he's nearly as old as the monster's perspective of history itself, there's only one of him, and he gets along quite well with the other seasonals. Well, most of the time. (Btw he also has a brittish accent)

#my singing monsters #art #beezleart #melodious monster chronicles #spurrit

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aphrodisiac-siren · 1 year

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Dynasty of flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon’s firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth.

-Aemond slowly, and I mean SLOWLY, letting his guard down-

Warnings: Incest (duh)

Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Part 7

Upon Y/N and Aemond's arrival back to the keep, the both of them were informed by Ser Criston of the King's desire to have the entire family dine together that very same evening.

Y/N, after returning to her assigned chambers, asked for one of the servants to draw her a bath. She reeked of dragon and did not wish to show up for supper smelling of old leather and sweat.

The place where the royal family bathed was a large room with a tiled pit, sunk a few feet into the ground that was filled to the brim with steaming-hot water. A tray with a number of bath oils was placed close to the pool-like bath with a few towels neatly folded next to it.

Y/N dismissed the servants, she never really ever asked for any assistance with stripping down for a bath. How lazy does one have to be that they require someone to undress them when they were perfectly capable of doing it themselves, she thought.

The princess picked a vile of Dianthus and lemon balm oil before she stepped into the hot waters. She hummed with contentment at the sensation of the heat of the water against her skin and she tilted her head back so that she could wash her long brown hair as well. She then began to scrub at her arms and behind her ears.

The sound of the doors creaking had the princess snap her eyes open and crane her neck toward the entrance only to lock gazes with Aemond who stood frozen and abashed.

Upon instinct, Y/N yelped, not expecting anyone to walk in on her and Aemond immediately turned around out of respect.

"Apologies" he quickly uttered, his back still facing her "I was to use the other bath but it seems to be occupied by my brother and none of the servants are posted outside either of the doors to mention this room was occupied.."

Y/N bit her lip to stifle the giggles that she was trying to fight back at his nervous rambling. The girl did not care much if Aemond saw her in this state; the body of a naked woman was obviously not a sight he was a stranger to, she guessed. Furthermore, she was rather amused by how he instantly turned into a nervous wreck as opposed to the stoic person he was ever since she'd met him.

"It's alright," she said with a smile, her eyes never leaving Aemond's tall and rigid frame "the other bath is occupied you say, I do not mind you bathing here"

"I shall await outside until you are dressed, princess" Aemond heaved a sigh, quite embarrassed about walking in on her during her bath.

"I meant with me" Y/N clarified with a smirk "I do not mind, besides you did just mention that there are no servants presently. Why waste time when there is already a perfectly hot bath at the ready?"

"I um.." Aemond cleared his throat and was happy he wasn’t facing her for he was sure his face had turned as red as that dress Y/N had worn earlier "I do not think it would be appropriate for me to look upon you in such-"

"Will your gaze be indecent and lustful?" Y/N asked even though she knew it would be far from that. She knew Aemond was a rather respectful and honourable man, despite what the gossip surrounding him suggested.

"Of course not," the prince promptly responded "never"

"Then I find no reason for this to be an improper encounter. You may get into the bath with me" Y/N shrugged "If you are comfortable with it as well, that is. I do not wish to force you into something that leaves you feeling uneasy"

Aemond felt something flutter in his chest.

"I do not wish to force you into something that leaves you feeling uneasy"

Aemond recalled the events of his three and tenth name day when Aegon had dragged him out the castle and to the city, into a whorehouse. Aemond remembered how scared and uncomfortable he'd felt. Aegon had taken him there thinking Aemond would take as much liking toward it as he did, and in a way hoping to fill in the void of the lack of affection in their lives that Aegon felt through intimacy. Aemond, not wanting to be rude to his older brother who was doing it solely so that Aemond too might experience some form of affection- granted it was all a farce, just went along with him.

However once he was left alone in a room with one of the women of the establishment, he tried to convey his uncertainty and desire to leave immediately but the lady tried her best to persuade him. After they were 'done', Aemond was left feeling more disgusted and defiled than content and satisfied. Aemond never visited brothels or whorehouses after that, he barely even allowed for anyone to so much as touch him from then on.

Until that very afternoon, with Y/N.

She was kind and gentle beneath all of that feistiness. Even now she was making sure Aemond was just as comfortable as she was. He slowly turned around and Y/N smiled sweetly at him.

Gods she looks breathtaking, Aemond thought as he walked closer, making sure his gaze never lingered. He slowly began to rid himself of his garments and Y/N politely turned away so that she might not make him feel conscious.

Once we had stripped down to basically nothing, he stepped into the bath and sat a few feet away from her upon some of the steps that bordered around the edges.

"Hello" the princess said with a giggle "I hope you do not mind the choice of oils I've used"

"N-no" Aemond cleared his throat "I like it"

"That’s nice to hear" she hummed as she combed her fingers through her hair. Her hands then grazed the necklace around her neck that she'd forgotten to take off and reached behind her neck to unclasp it but for some reason, it wouldn’t loosen.

"Could you help me with this, Aemond?" she sweetly asked, still struggling with the piece of jewellery "the clasp seems to be stuck"

Aemond was hesitant but silently walked toward her. Gods, she is too carefree about all of this, Aemond thought, she's stripped completely bare in the presence of a man and yet she doesn’t seem bothered at all. Once he was close enough, she turned around and pulled all of her hair to one side to expose the back of her neck.

Aemond's fingertips gently ran over her warm skin before he held the necklace and tried to undo the clasps with which Y/N was having trouble. It took a few tries before he managed to free the fastening, carefully pulling off the chain off her neck.

Y/N turned around and looked up at Aemond. She was well aware of how close they were but it did not seem to faze her one bit.

Aemond was silent, waiting for her to say something as he too looked into her pretty purple eyes.

"I'll let you keep my necklace if you let me keep your eye patch" she said and it was something that Aemond wasn’t expecting to hear at all "I'm assuming you don’t keep it on while you bathe?"

"I do" Aemond quickly shot back even though he never did. He had grown rather insecure of how he looked and he did not wish for her to see him without the eye patch and be frightened like everyone else who had.

"I was there the night you lost your eye" Y/N's tone and expression both softened "I have seen you when your face was bloody and your wound swollen. I did not see you any differently then and it won’t chnage even now"

Aemond looked away.

"And I'm curious to see the sapphire you wrote to me about" she added.

"Yes, that" Aemond scoffed "It only added to my frightfulness, it did absolutely nothing to fix my appearance"

"Fix?" the princess tilted her head slightly "there was never anything about your appearance that needed fixing"

"You don’t have to console me with flattery, princess" Aemond rolled his eye before he turned to look at her again "I have come to terms with the truth"

"I do not agree with the harsh words spoken of you" she tenderly spoke and Aemond once again felt that unfamiliar fluttering sensation in his chest "I despise those people who’ve spread such nasty gossip"

"You haven’t even.." Aemond was moved by how genuinely she uttered those words. She was the closest friend he'd had and someone he knew he could confide in. Yet for so many years, they had only spoken through letters and over time, he had convinced himself that some day the distance between them would only grow and thus bring their exchange of letters to a halt "You haven’t even seen me, all of me"

Y/N almost made an indecent joke about the both of them being naked but she held her tongue; now was not the time.

"Then show me"

The boy sighed before he reached up and nervously took off his eye patch. He watched in anticipation as Y/N looked at his scar, at the precious gemstone that replaced the eye that was taken from him. She didn’t flinch, nor gasp or show even an ounce of being frightened or disgusted. Her gaze turned tender and she gingerly reached out to caressed his cheek, tracing her fingers along his scar.

"Say something," he said and it came out almost as a whisper. The long interval of silence was making him anxious "have I frightened you, Y/N?"

"I truly wish you could see what I see" Y/N's heart clenched with sadness. The world was indeed so cruel for convincing this sweet boy that he was some sort of monster.

"And what is it that you see?" Aemond could feel his heart hammering in his chest while her fingers delicately caressed his scarred face.

"I see you, Aemond" a tender smile graced her lips as she continued to look at him adoringly. Aemond had indeed grown into a handsome lad. His jawline was sharp, cheekbones chiselled and the blue sapphire made him look absolutely majestic "the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes upon"

Y/N dried and brushed her hair in her chambers after she had returned from her bath.

She was glad none of the servants noticed Aemond slipping out before she could leave. That encounter alone could give rise to quite a scandalous rumour.

As she was braiding her hair, a loud knock sounded and she called out for whoever was on the other side of the door, beckoning for them to enter.

Her father Daemon walked in along with Rhaenyra.

"We wish to discuss something of utmost importance" Rhaenyra informed as she shut the door behind her "regarding the line of succession"

This immediately had Y/N turning away from the mirror and facing her parents.

"I have had a long discussion with your father and I have made a rather difficult decision" Rhaenyra went on "a decision that regards my heir, the next in line to the iron throne"

Y/N glanced at her father who winked at her, hinting that whatever Rhaenyra was about to say was a result of his influence.

"I have decided to name Jace as prince of Dragonstone and you," she drew a sharp breath "Y/N as my heir to the iron thron"

"Does Jace know of this?" Y/N immediately asked. In the years that she spent at Dragonstone, growing up alongside him, she had grown rather fond of his company. She knew the both of them would never be close, not when she was Aemond's closest companion who ran to his defence every time but the both of them had formed some sort of bond as the two oldest siblings in the family. She knew how Jace was readying himself to take on the role of being King someday. How she herself knew that he would be an excellent candidate for the job. The last thing she wanted was for this decision to form a rift between them when they had only just started to get along.

"Not yet, no" the older princess told her. Rhaenyra too knew how eager Jace was to become king and how good he would be at it. But Daemon had put forth a valid argument. He told her how the realm presently acknowledged him as nothing more than a bastard. Once he would be king, there would be an uprising and he would be overthrown by those who oppose his rule. Her sons were currently protected by her and the king, that wouldn’t be a possibility once Jace would be king. Who would protect him then? For the sake of his life being spared, naming Daemon's firstborn daughter as heir was the best decision.

"I don’t think we should make a decision without him present" the younger girl told them.

"The decision has been made already" Daemon tenderly tried to explain "you must understand this is the best outcome for all. You saw what it took to reaffirm Luke's throne. Jace will not have the king or his mother at his side if his claim was ever put to question. His life will be at stake. You are my firstborn and thus will be rather welcomed as queen"

Y/N let out a long sigh. She knew her father made a good point. Furthermore, she was impressed by how he managed to put forth said point without even once mentioning that Rhaenyra's sons were bastards.

She did not hate the idea of being queen. The only thing that kept her from jumping in celebration was the fact that she felt as if she was being given something that initially was never meant for her, something that Rhaenyra was only doing because she was convinced.

"Alright" Y/N looked up at the both of them "but you must tell Jace of this"

"We will" Daemon looked at her with pride. His own blood, his darling daughter would one day sit the throne "now get dressed, I assume you already know of the king’s wishes for the entire family to dine together"

taglist: @ladybug0095 @sahvlren @bunny24sstuff @dellalyra @ellabellabus07 @champomiel @fan-goddess

#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #ewan nation #hotd #house of the dragon #tom bennett #world on fire #aemond #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond headcanons #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon smut #aegon targaryen #aegon smut

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borninwinter81 · 2 months

Text

William Blake and Good Omens - an intertextual analysis

Please note: I did another version of this and posted it, but it was quite hurried, way too short, and was incorrect in a number of ways so I deleted it. However it had already been reblogged by the time i did so. If you happen to see another version of this meta that's not the right one, this is the version I'm happy with!

After my previous post re William Blake and Good Omens did so well, and so many people showed an interest I've decided to do a more in depth piece. This is focused upon the TV version of Good Omens, not the book.

Please don't tag Neil in this - although it's mostly textual analysis I do a very small amount of S3 theorising, and I know he doesn't want to see that.

I am in no way suggesting that Neil and Terry specifically wrote Good Omens with Blake in mind, I honestly just wanted an excuse to write more about Blake because I love his work so much, and I thought it would be interesting to try and apply some intertexuality since the works will contain similar themes, both being about God, religion, humanity, and angels and demons.

I also should stress that I am not an expert on Blake, there are people far more qualified to comment on him than I. I'm just a former literature student who loves his work.

There have been many different interpretations of Blake's work over the years, so it's completely fine to disagree with someone else's ideas about it, as with any work of art or literature. And although this piece is likely to be long, I'll barely be able to scratch the surface of all the possible meanings that could be ascribed to it.

Much like the old adage that if someone claims to understand quantum physics they're lying, I'm not sure anyone can truly fathom the full meaning of Blake's philosophy (especially in his later prophetic works, fuuuuuuck those beasts....), so if you're confused by him don't be discouraged, that's perfectly normal!

That being said, I wish to discuss the parallels between Good Omens and The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, my personal favourite and probably the most accessible of his longer works.

"Without contraries is no progression. Attraction and Repulsion, Reason and Energy, Love and Hate, are necessary to Human existence. From these contraries spring what the religious call Good & Evil. Good is the passive that obeys Reason. Evil is the active springing from Energy. Good is Heaven. Evil is Hell."

This excerpt is from near the opening and sets out the central idea of the work - that there is an essential duality to humanity, and each person is a combination of extremes. These extremes are not at war with each other, but rather are equally necessary, hence the "marriage" of the title. "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell" is a metaphor for the human experience.

Consistently throughout The Marriage... Blake refers to the two extremes as Reason and Energy. These terms could be construed in a number of different ways: thought versus emotion, mental versus physical, restraint versus desire, temperance versus excess, caution versus impulsiveness, and following the rules versus free will.

Blake's use of the word "Reason" in this context may be somewhat confusing, however he likely chose it because of his negative feelings towards science and the Age of Enlightenment. Blake saw literal visions of angels and prophets and the divinity of all creation, and hated that science reduced everything to formulas, calculations, and materialism, leaving the world bereft of wonder. "Art is the Tree of Life. Science is the Tree of Death" as he put it.

His ideas about "reason" are best expressed by his painting "Newton". Though inspired by the scientist, it is not a portrait - instead it depicts a figure deeply engrossed in scientific drawings and calculations, totally ignoring the beauty all around him - see below.

In the context of The Marriage... Reason is "passive" because it involves thought, caution, self-restraint, and doing what you are told, all states which block action. Energy is "active" because it is physical, emotional, impulsive and allows you to act based on your own choices and desires. It's quite clear that Blake feels "energy" is the preferable state - he tells us as much in the next section:

"The Voice of the Devil

All Bibles or sacred codes, have been the causes of the following Errors. 1. That Man has two real existing principles Viz: a Body & a Soul. 2. That Energy, call'd Evil, is alone from the Body, & that Reason, call'd Good, is alone from the Soul. 3. That God will torment Man in Eternity for following his Energies. But the following Contraries to these are True. 1. Man has no Body distinct from his Soul; for that call'd Body is a portion of Soul discern'd by the five Senses, the chief inlets of Soul in this age. 2. Energy is the only life and is from the Body and Reason is the bound or outward circumference of Energy. 3. Energy is Eternal Delight."

So the body is an aspect of the soul, not separate from it, Energy comes from the body, it is Reason which places limits upon Energy, but Energy is eternal delight. Physicality, desire, impulsiveness, emotion, sensual pleasure and free will are not wrong or evil, they are aspects of the human soul and it is from them that we derive our enjoyment of life.

This does not necessarily mean that Reason is always bad. After all, Blake tells us that both are necessary for human existence. Sometimes temperance, caution and thought before action are required. But Reason becomes negative when it "usurps its place and governs the unwilling", i.e. when it completely supplants Energy and becomes the sole guiding factor, forcing passivity.

The Angels of The Marriage... are governed by "systematic reasoning", therefore they are wholly creatures of Reason. They are also "all religious" meaning they believe the "errors" stated above. His Devils by contrast "hate religion" meaning they believe the "contraries", which are the true statements according to Blake. It does not necessarily follow that they are wholly governed by Energy, merely that they believe Energy is "eternal delight".

It is worth noting at this point that Blake saw God and religion as totally separate. For Blake, "God" is that connection with divine wonder which was integral to his life; he tells us plainly that "all deities reside in the human breast" and that "the voice of honest indignation is the voice of God". In other words all humans have a direct and intuitive link with God and don't require the church, Priests, or a religious framework and adherence to a set of rules in order to reach moral decisions. These rules exist only to "enslave the vulgar".

The importance of this ability to make one's own choices about a moral course of action is shown by one of the "Memorable Fancy" sections of The Marriage...

Blake relates how a Devil is able to use an Angel's "systematic reasoning" against them:

"if Jesus Christ is the greatest man, you ought to love him in the greatest degree; now hear how he has given his sanction to the law of ten commandments: did he not mock at the sabbath, and so mock the sabbaths God? Murder those who were murder'd because of him? Turn away the law from the woman taken in adultery? Steal the labor of others to support him? Bear false witness when he omitted making a defence before Pilate? Covet when he pray'd for his disciples, and when he bid them shake off the dust of their feet against such as refused to lodge them? I tell you, no virtue can exist without breaking these ten commandments; Jesus was all virtue, and acted from impulse, not from rules."

The Angel has no way to refute the "reasoning" that Jesus was governed by Energy and "impulse", i.e. his own morality, the "voice of righteous indignation", not reasoning and the rules laid down by Heaven. And because Jesus is the Messiah he must be virtuous, therefore Energy is virtuous. The Angel immediately allows himself to be consumed by fire and is resurrected as a Devil.

How can these concepts apply to the world of Good Omens? This was where my first draft was totally incorrect, as I tried to transfer Blake's ideas about Angels and Demons and Heaven and Hell wholesale, applying "reason" to Aziraphale and Heaven and "energy" to Crowley and Hell. In fact the divide is slightly different in the GO-verse: Crowley and Aziraphale *both* represent Energy, and it is Heaven and Hell that act according to Reason.

At first glance Aziraphale may appear to toe the line - he needs creative application of the rules to make him comfortable with trying to avert the apocalypse, and when he doesn't like the way matters are being handled by the Archangels he seeks a higher authority and goes straight to God. He'd clearly prefer someone to be confirming the rightness of his actions for him. However this doesn't mean that he won't act on his own.

Immediately upon his introduction to the story he has given away his flaming sword, an action that he took impulsively because he felt it was right, not because someone told him to. It bothers him, but he does it anyway.

In the Job storyline, though he initially looks for some loophole within the rules that will allow him to save Job's children, in the end he directly goes against Heaven to do it, even though he believes he is going to Fall and become a Demon for having done so.

Though he resists it and exhausts all other possible avenues first, he eventually does take an active role in averting the apocalypse in S1.

He hides Jim at great personal risk to himself and against the will of both Heaven and Hell, again because he feels it is the right thing to do.

He is therefore perfectly capable of independent action from a position of "righteous indignation".

On a more basic level, he enjoys worldly pleasures, which all come from "energy" according to Blake's philosophy. Food and drink most obviously, but also books, music, dancing, theatre, art and so on.

Crowley is more easy to place as acting from Energy - in spite of the obvious aesthetic differences between them, he also loves worldly pleasures. Alcohol and coffee, snazzy clothing, driving his car with Queen blaring on the stereo, going to lunch with Aziraphale, Shakespearean comedies. All things he isn't supposed to want or need, and which baffle other Demons, in the same way that Aziraphale's desire for food baffles the Angels.

And he's absolutely willing to act according to his own moral impulses when they conflict with Hell's orders (or Heaven's), be it saving Job's children, ensuring that Elspeth doesn't die by suicide, or averting the apocalypse. Yes, he'll try to hide his "good" actions in order to avoid punishment by Hell, but he's firmly "on his own side".

Conversely, Heaven and Hell are both part of the structure of religion in this story, are strictly adherent to a set of rules, and their inhabitants appear to have no real desires of their own, other than possible advancement within the systems they uphold. They are "passive" in that their functions allow the status quo to continue and the "great plan" to unfold as they believe it is meant to, even though each side expects a different outcome.

Again, applying Blake's philosophy, I would say the reason for this is that "energy is from the body". Crowley and Aziraphale have both been given bodies in order that they can exist on earth, and *have* existed on earth for 6000 years, therefore "energy" - physical pleasures and free thinking - have become a part of who they are.

On a more fundamental level, possession of a body can be equated to humanity, and humanity has been shown as the most powerful force of all in this story, its influence having led to Adam becoming "human incarnate", and thus acting according to what he feels is right, instead of fulfilling the function he was destined for.

Heaven and Hell contain no material objects, and the Angels and Demons are spiritual beings, having no bodies, so they are not open to energy, and therefore are wholly governed by Reason, and the preservation of the religious structures within which they exist. Structures which, as for Blake, may not actually have anything to do with God herself. In S1 she is a distant observer, clearly aware through her narration of all that is going on, but not interceding in any way. In S2 she is barely present save for her voice being heard briefly in Job, and overlaid with Gabriel's on two occasions.

Bearing all this in mind, what predictions can we make regarding S3 by applying Blake's philosophy?

"The ancient tradition that the world will be consumed in fire at the end of six thousand years is true, as I have heard from Hell.

For the cherub with his flaming sword is hereby commanded to leave his guard at [the] tree of life, and when he does, the whole creation will be consumed and appear infinite and holy, whereas it now appears finite and corrupt.

This will come to pass by an improvement of sensual enjoyment."

The parallels of the cherub with his flaming sword, and the passage of 6000 years should be obvious to anyone reading this - they have of course been lifted directly from the Bible as they are in GO.

I have read some metas which speculated that Aziraphale's bookshop, or perhaps Earth itself, is a metaphorical stand-in for Eden or The Tree of Life. Aziraphale has been commanded to leave his "Eden" and will now be instrumental in causing the whole of creation to become infinite and holy, but Blake tells us this will be done by an improvement of sensual enjoyment, which arises from Energy not Reason.

Sensual enjoyment is something which is intrinsic to Aziraphale's character, and this could make his placement in Heaven very important.

Putting aside all the "final fifteen" theories and taking matters at face value, Aziraphale tells us that if he's in charge he can make a difference - he needs to subvert the system from the inside out. The most subversive thing of all could be that a sensualist who acts according to "the voice of moral indignation" and "Energy" has become the supreme Archangel. We have seen in Blake how a realisation that Energy could be virtuous was enough to convert an Angel into a Devil (incidentally, does the image of an Angel being consumed by fire and emerging as a Devil seem familiar at all...)

We may have seen the beginnings of this already. Gabriel and Beelzebub became open to Energy from such little things as visiting earth, spending time in one another's company, and their mutual enjoyment of a song, which has given them wants and desires beyond those dictated by Heaven and Hell. This is enough to make them wish to leave their roles behind.

It's possible that the same may happen with Muriel. They haven't yet imbibed food or drink, but they have shown an enjoyment of books, which are an earthly pleasure, and open the reader up to new ideas and ways of thinking.

Of course, this would lead to questions regarding the Metatron's statement that he has "ingested things", and whether this means he is acting from reason or energy. Of course the simplest explanation is that it is a manipulation tactic, and he is lying about having done so, but if true that statement has some interesting implications. However, this is now super-long and I'm out of juice, so will leave others to speculate. I may return to this in the future!

There we go, hope you enjoyed. I doubt this will reach nearly as many people as my first Blake post, but if a few find it of interest then my work is done!

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