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writinggoesgreen · 7 months

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I see a lot of people writing various sex work AUs who maybe don't have very much exposure to the industry outside of popular media, which has traditionally not represented it with respect or accuracy. This is something I can speak about at length from a real life perspective, so I've tried to break it down into some managable chunks!!

Disclaimer: This is not a 'how to' guide, nor should it be used as one, nor is it meant to be a suggestion to enter the sex industry. There are often very real safety issues in being a sex worker. If you are considering, please research thoroughly into advice, community programs and local charities before you do so.

At it's core, sex work refers to the labour that someone does while working in the sex industry. This covers all manner of jobs, but particularly FSSWs (full service sex work - the act of exchanging sex for money), pornstars, cam workers, strippers, dominatrixes, phone sex operators, and sugar babies. Although their experiences will differ, people of all gender and sexual identities will work in these rolls.

I do not have the experience required to give a thorough breakdown of how all these industries work and I implore you to research them properly before writing them.

FSSW takes place in a variety of ways - I'll go over online and street-based here, as I have never worked in a brothel and frankly, don't quite understand how it works.

Online: Many workers set up a profile on an online platform, or utilise social media to advertise. They will display their prices, their 'dos and don'ts' list, and some pictures. Clients will then contact you. Platforms specifically for this, like AdultWork, often have a rating system that allow people to leave reviews for both workers and clients, to minimise risk.

Street-Based: This is probably the system more people imagine when they think of FSSW, in which workers will hang around in popular areas for escorts (some cities have areas famous for this, but depending on legality, this can be better or worse for safety) and pick up customers there. Sometimes they return to either the worker's home, or the client's, a hotel room, or use a car or public toilet.

Strip clubs my beloved. Stripping works very differently in different places, so this is based on my experience working in clubs in the UK.

Stage Work: Not all clubs have huge stages and tall poles for routines. Your character doesn't have to be a professional grade dancer to work in a club like this. If the club has a poll, you will likely be expected to go on it at least once a night, but think of this like 'advertising'.

Tipping: Tipping culture is going to vary anywhere in the world - in the UK, where we don't have low denomination bank notes, no one is throwing singles at you on stage. It's also very variable, sometimes you might pull £300 in tips in a night, others, you might pull nothing at all. It depends on the people.

Dances: Many clubs work on a tiered system for dances, particularly where workers aren't making money on tips on the floor. My club worked on a 'private dance' and 'VIP dance' system, where private dances were shorter and less expensive, usually one on one, and VIP dances are longer, often in a more private room, and sometimes come with things like a drink. You can keep someone in a dance for longer than they paid for if they give you more money. Different clubs work differently in terms of taking a cut - some, you pay a percentage of what you earn in a night, others have a 'house fee', which is a set payment (that might be higher on weekends) that essentially works as 'renting out space' in the club to work as a private contractor.

Outfits: The clothes you wear will also vary hugely on where you live. In the UK, different counties have different laws regarding how much skin you can show in the 'open bar' area, so you might have to wear a gown, which are often long, to cover your butt, but with a slit up the skirt, and low cut. In other places, you can wear underwear, but not show your nipples unless if a private room. I've known dancers also wear bikinis. Almost all dancers will wear Pleasers or a similar brand of stripper shoe, which are specially designed to be worn for long periods of time. The toes of the shoe is also used to 'clack' the dance floor (make a loud noise when it hits it) so you can make an audible impact when you do a knee drop from a pole or other similar moves.

Sites: Camwork is, obviously, pretty much exclusively online. Most workers that I know work from home, and use either a hosting website like MyFreeCams, or advertise privately on social media for Skype shows. Hosting sites will take a cut of your profits, as these payments are all online. Some, it's a set percentage of your earnings. Others, like MFC, encourage you to do 'private shows' as they take a lower percentage of your money than, for example, a tip given in a free show.

Tiers: Every site I've used has multiple tiers: 'free room' is quite literally a chatroom where you can advertise and chat to people to try and convince them to tip you or 'take you private'. Then, you have group shows, where you have a non public chatroom that clients pay to watch, but other people can join in if they pay. Then, private rooms are where you are one on one with someone. Some sites will not allow you to be nude in a free room, as not all of them require membership - and thus age verification - to chat.

Levels: 'Levels' in how sex workers describe what they are willing to do in a chat room - for example, a character might have a 'higher level' in a private room than a group one because they will earn more money that way. More money = more to look at. This can be the difference between showing nudity, and using toys.

Camwork is, in my personal experience, the most varied form of work. Some clients will want your character to just chat to them, some will ignore anything they say and simply wait for them to 'show them the goods' etc. There are also camshows with 'specialties', and these are as varied as the human sexual experience: sitting in the bath, to cleaning the house and ignoring the chat.

Phone sex lines work in a similar manner to camwork, in the sense that some workers choose to host their profile and number on an industry site, and others advertise privately. Some things to keep in mind:

Hosting on a site will often create a barrier between the client and the worker, protecting their privacy, and meaning they often won't carry a second phone. Those who advertise privately often will.

The variety of kinks and preferences your character will come across on phone sex lines are also as varied as they are in cam work - every kind of fetish imaginable, and often with no prior discussion. Plan for their surprise in those instances.

Is your story taking place in a universe where sex work is legal? Is it criminalised, legalised, or decriminalised?

Is your character 'out' to friends, family etc?

Workers talk to each other. Unless your character is new to the industry, they will likely have a community, even a small one, that they exchange information about safety and opportunities with. This might be within a club, a brothel, or a local area.

Here is a list of prompts for sex work AUs that do not rely on sex worker falls in love with client. I cannot stress enough how this is not a common occurance. The relationship is transactional, and quite often, based on mutually ignored lies. I'm not saying it doesn't happen or can't work in a way that is healthy, I'm just saying, in my experience, whores tend to love, fuck, and marry other whores before they do civs. I love a cliche as much as the next guy, but stretch outside the box on this one, trust me. Note: As always, I have tried to write these to leave them open to romantic or platonic dynamics, and comedy, tradegy, or romantic storylines. Go hog wild, experiment.

Character A works in politics, and has gone to several charity galas where they have noticed various different collegues entering with the same person. Character B, an escort who has been hired by several prominent politicians, notices that they have been clocked.

Character A is working as a cam model to put themselves through college while desperetly coming up with increasingly ridiculous lies to cover the noises coming from their room to their dormmates.

At a popular strip club in [INSERT CITY], Character A is put in charge of showing Character B the ropes.

Character A and Character B, two FSSWs who have never worked together, agree to work a double with a long term client. They go out for coffee afterwards.

Working a pole dance studio during the day and a strip club in the evenings, Character A bumps into one of their students in the bar.

After a rough breakup, Character A calls a phone sex line on a particularly lonely evening. Character B, their long time friend, recognises the number when they call.

Character A and Character B both work in the strip club, but no one knows they are married.

#au #writing help #au ideas #wgg original #writing prompts #creative writing #writing ideas #SW au

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ahordeofwasps · 6 months

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Writer Positivity Tag

I've been tagged by the brilliant @blind-the-winds! Thanks for the tag! I'm going to also steal the idea to put the no pressure tags into one of the questions.

Now, onto the questions!

What motivates you to write?

It's fun! I've always really enjoyed stories, so it's fun to try my hand at making my own. I really enjoy putting a bunch of characters in a Situation and exploring what happens.

But, I'm also more motivated to write when there's a task to procrastinate on. I usually get most of my writing done when I supposed to have a thesis I'm working on.

A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not, maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them):

I'm currently really happy with this bit I wrote for To Not Falling Off Cliffs:

Steve had made many friends over the centuries. He couldn’t help it. Someone entered his life, grew to like them and then he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He had no lips, so Steve could not smile, but whenever he saw them, he felt his jaw shift in way he could not help. Thoughts about his work were drowned out by ones that if were not pleasant, were at least wanted. He found himself making excuses to be near them, his spirits lifting in their presence. He wanted nothing more than for them to be well. It wasn’t falling in love – Steve never fell in love – but it was something more. Something that went without courtship and ritual, something that demanded nothing of the flesh. A simple bond that rang truer than anything else.

Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them, and what are they like?

All of them? Like each one makes me smile for different reasons. I'll focus on the protagonists from To Not Falling Off Cliffs.

Erika is the one human protagonist. She loves music and old movies. She is also trying her best. She's the kind of person who will look upon eldritch horrors and go "Hmm, this is just like math class."

Steve is one of the reaper protagonists. He is a bit of a tragic character in that the souls he reaps were of those who died slow painful deaths of very preventable causes but he's not allowed to do anything about said causes, as that is "altering Fate." But he tries anyways and is willing to risk his existence on it.

Tiffany is the other reaper protagonist. She's the closest thing reapers have to a celebrity, as she wears entirely gold and has a very distinctive appearance. She's super smart and organized, but also stubborn. She's a bit of a stickler to the rules, but when those rules start harming, she'll break them.

What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

The writing part? I'm a pantser, so I get to see the story develop as I'm writing. Something I find enjoyable is seeing a scene go into a completely different direction than I expected as I'm typing it up and then getting to explore that direction.

What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I have a hard time figuring out what I'm good and bad at, so this is a bit of a tough question to answer.

I think plot? I'm just usually kinda happy with the way the plots of my stories turn out.

What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

Getting to see everyone else's writing! I enjoy reading the little snippets that get posted for tag games and seeing how writing styles vary. When available, I also enjoy reading the fully written stories, though I haven't read as much as I would like to due to time.

A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

My keyboard! It is very clacky. Plus I got it setup so that I can swap between American, British, and Canadian Multilingual with just a pair of keystrokes.

A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law, etc)

I had a lot of fun doing worldbuilding for To Not Falling Off Cliffs, so there's a lot I like. I guess my current favourite bit of worldbuilding is that life on Earth got started accidentally; some god decided to knit some amino acids for fun, made the first cell, and then got distracted by a neutron star and forgot about it the same way one forgets about tupperware in the fridge.

Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters:

I love @winterandwords's writing! It has a strong sense of character voice. I'm currently reading her novel, Bridge from Ashes and it's really good!

I also adore @loopyhoopywrites writing! The tone and descriptions are amazing and super well done! I think Trickster is my favourite character, though they're all great.

I also love @spuddlespud's writing! Super fun characters and scenarios! I especially adore the A Worker's Guide to Demonology snippets.

I also adore @emelkae's writing! I read WANNABE a while back and loved it! Love the characters and concept and everything. I get excited whenever I see bits related to it on my dashboard.

I also love @chauceryfairytales's writing! I especially love the descriptions and worldbuilding. Yuni questing to find bees is an amazing plot!

I also adore @blind-the-winds's writing! I enjoy hearing about Mick and Eleanor and all the stuff they wind up getting into.

#writing #writeblr #tag game #writer positivity #To Not Falling Off Cliffs #TNFOC

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lettalady · 3 months

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I have a what if for an older story I still think about. I know that WISH isn't really near the Infinity War time line buuut...

What if Loki and The Agent in WISH had been snapped?

Oh boy it's been awhile since I've hunted down those plottings and played with the characters from the Loki WISH series. We never connected (care of tech failing and loss of data which I'm still upset about even years later) where we were at the last posting with the scenes I'd written of a SHIELD facility, the disc, and the chaos that ensues.

At any rate...

[ Look ma, a Weekend What If that isn't LJH! ]

What if Loki and The Agent in WISH had been snapped?

In my head I imagine being snapped not as being erased from existence but dragged from reality to a barren sort of holding area. Neither alive nor dead? Waiting for an undoing, or whatever comes next —

The struggle of having fought for the safety of their people only to face off against impossible odds. Loki gets dusted before Thor's eyes, when he thought him to be dead. An anguished brother losing so much in the blink of an eye, and then forced to relive the pain in the retelling of events - to catch up coworkers on the threats posed and the need for action.

Word of mouth, gossip, rumor reaches the agent in regards to Loki’s so-called last stand. The organization she once felt such loyalty to calls on her to join in the regrouping and attempted defense against Thanos. If she refuses there’s just more of the same in her future, if she accepts she can attempt to rebuild bridges long burned.

Then comes the snap and she, too, dusts — having heard the tales of watching half the population simply vanish. It’s not like they have the ability to reach out and communicate that no, those lost were not entirely gone (until the actions undertaken that undid the loss of so many and tada individuals thought to be gone forever have returned! – but we’ll get there).

So it’s a surprise to find herself in a world that seems familiar and yet so foreign, again with that weight felt of a gravity different than her home planet, a scent to the air she’s able to breathe that tangs of not-home nor anything else that had through her misadventures become familiar to her. To find so many others also puzzling through what they’re faced with. Dragged from wherever, whatever and faced with this strange near-nothingness. To not be alone facing it would be a blessing. To see some semblance of organization… while reeling from that really-shouldn’t-be-a-familiar-thing-but-is feeling of being yanked from one reality to another.

Our agent is rather uniquely qualified to identify the similarities of the occurrence, and rather than stumbling to her feet and fighting to quickly gain her bearings only to be taken captive and dragged someplace worse – hearing shouts of direction passing through the amassed group, most wearing similar faces of bewilderment.

The reunion wouldn’t be immediate, not with so many of the population suddenly arriving to wherever they are. But then she hears the familiar cadence of Asgarians and gravitates that way. Leaders, of varying species conferring – those that can translate for others doing so to allow for less confusion in an already mind bending experience, and one in particular that she knows intimately.

Shock of counterevidence to his death. Alive and possibly not if you hold certain beliefs about where they’ve been ‘snapped’ to, but certainly given more time together. Loki working alongside others and debating courses of action and deferring to someone else’s argument, looking away from the gathering of minds to realize he’s being watched by so many but in particular a face he hoped he would never find amongst those looking for answers.

[ find the Loki WISH series on A03 ]

#imagine loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki wish series #what if Loki WISH series edition

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hannahssimblr · 5 months

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Chapter Two (Part 2)

“You alright there?” Marnie says mildly as I wrestle to shake my arms free of my jacket. She’s already set up with her newsprint paper clipped to her drawing board, pieces of willow charcoal set out on the lip of the table. She’s got colourful elastic bands tying up bunches of her hair, and a mesh top that shows her bra through it, because at art college it’s completely normal to wear things like that and nobody will ever make a comment to you about it.

“It’s warm.” I manage, just as I free myself and drape the coat over my seat.

“If you showed up on time then you wouldn’t have to keep charging up the stairs like a mad woman” She suggests.

“I know, I just can’t ever get myself together in the morning.” I don’t tell her that I’m so used to my mother having breakfast on the table for me, and now that I live without her, I can’t seem to wrangle myself onto any sort of consistency in the morning. I’m digging around in my bag for my drawing tools when our tutor comes towards me from the other side of the room.

“You.” She addresses me like this all of the time, because she has no intention of learning my name. “You need to have yourself set up and ready by nine. We discussed this last week.”

“I know, Ida. I’m sorry. I’ll just be two seconds.”

She takes a step back and in the process and the heel of her chunky Creepers crush the plastic corner of my pencil holder. She looks down and shrugs. “Sorry.” Which she doesn’t mean, and somehow communicates to me with just that solitary word that my pencil case shouldn’t be on the floor in the first place, and if I was more organised and on time for class then maybe it wouldn’t be in fragments on the floor.

Ida, our life-drawing tutor, is formidable in a way that you have no choice but to respect. She’s in her fifties with a severe bob cut flanking her high cheekbones. She’s rail thin and wears long, loose black clothing with loads of pockets, moving around in such a way that the fabric swishes around her like it’s in a semi-liquid state. When she draws at her easel she stands with her legs wider than her shoulders and swipes these bold, beautiful, varied lines across the paper, marking in forms with this mesmerising ease, and all you can do is stand there and watch the figure emerge from the page, lines and angles and form, each bone and muscle marked in with precise definition. She isn’t especially beautiful or at all affable, but there’s no man that has passed through her studio that hasn’t been at least a little bit in love with her.

Today we’re doing a long pose. Which means the very nice model, a garda called Paul, is going to drop his robe and stand there for an hour while we draw him. I’m still only getting used to it now, twelve sessions in, because much to my horror upon realising it, Paul is the first naked man I’ve ever seen, and he’s at least forty years old. Thankfully, Paul is posing with his back to me today, so I don’t have to get into the detail of his face, or… anywhere else. I sigh and start drawing in the back of his head and the guidelines for his shoulders and hips like I’ve learned to. Then I loosely mark out his arms, legs, feet, and I try to ground the figure as much as possible, knowing now that a drawing needs weight. Form. Proportion. I repeat these words in my head as I sweep my charcoal over the newsprint.

About halfway through, Ida comes to sit behind me and watch me, which makes me instantly nervous, but she’s completely silent and completely still, so after a while I kind of half-forget that she’s even there. I get engrossed in the muscles in Paul’s back, trying to imagine the way they might look under the skin. It sounds medical, but it isn’t really. We’ve been doing loads of study about muscle and tendons, looking at diagrams of each one and learning about how they move, and how they affect the body. We even had to watch a horrific video of a disembodied hand without any skin, white and bloodless as a doctor demonstrated how tendons work to move the fingers. Thinking about it still makes me queasy, but I have to admit that it helped me to understand.

I feel as though my improvement has been exponential in the month since I’ve started college, so much so that I hardly recognise my own work. The things in my old sketchbook lack things that I didn’t even know they could lack, like intentionality, but I don’t look at my old stuff anymore for more reasons than just that.

An hour ticks by and my fingers are chalky black by the time Ida leaves her seat behind me and walks into the centre of the circle where Paul is slipping back into his dressing gown. “Let’s turn our easels around.” She says, and we all do, all sixteen of us revealing the fruits of the last hour. Paul, as usual, takes a walk around the room to see what we’ve done to him, all the ways that we’ve uglified his body from every possible angle, but he looks pleased.

“Let’s start on this side of the room today.” Ida says, walking towards my side, and then she stands next to my piece, and I feel my face flush. “Any feedback on this one?”

“It’s gorgeous.” One girl says after a slight pause. “I love how she captured the light on his left side, like it’s so striking.” I try to stop myself from beaming so that nobody knows I’m actually delighted. Nobody ever looks deliberately delighted in this college.

“I agree.” Says Ida. “And you can see this lovely fluid line here…” she starts speaking about my drawing using all these big, elegant words, swooshing her hands over the paper, painting circles in the air with her hands. I stand next to it with my arms behind my back, facial features carefully arranged so that they stay perfectly still and I look unbothered by anybody else’s opinion, even though inside I am leaping for joy. Ida likes my work! She says it’s energetic.

Everybody knows how to express themselves here. They seem to have internal dictionaries of adjectives locked and loaded to use at the absolute perfect time to describe something in a perfect way. And they aren’t afraid to speak out, to respond to questions, or ask their own. Nobody in secondary school did that. In fact, interacting with the teacher was considered the least acceptable thing you could do. And asking questions? Admitting you felt stuck or lost? Never. I feel like as a result of that I never know the right things to say, as much as my head is swirling with opinions, as soon as it’s asked of me I am mute, head empty, unable to conjure up a single intelligent thing, and then eventually the person asking will just move on to the next student.

“She’s lost the definition in his legs.” Dean Cullen says next, and my heckles instantly rise at the sound of his North-Dublin syllables. There is nobody more comfortable with giving their opinion than he is. “There should be more weight to them, I just don’t think that he looks like he’s leaning on them enough.” I feel my nostrils flare. Dean, the twenty four year old mature student who looks like he got every item of clothes he owns out of a clothing donation bin, always has something to say. And it’s always critical. The worst thing about life drawing classes three times a week is that he’s here. And even worse than that, Ida thinks he’s excellent. I suppose if you think big, bold masculine lines on everything are excellent then fine, but it’s not to my taste. He always smudges the charcoal around the page with the side of his hand too, and then gets it on his face and clothes. He never even looks embarrassed about it, wearing the smudges like they’re battle scars. His confidence in himself pisses me off.

“Hm. Yes, I see what you mean.” Ida says with contemplation. “You think she needed more consideration here?” He traces an invisible line along the back of the figure’s calf.

‘Yeah exactly. It just feels rushed and lazy to me, like she just scribbled something down just to get it done.”

I feel myself burning. I don’t want to be someone others think of as rushed or lazy. And I’m not! The nerve of him, I think. But I don’t express any of this. I keep my perfectly serene composure, and when Ida asks for my response I simply say that I agree, and that maybe next time I’ll think more about the legs.

“That man is poisonous.” I hiss to Marnie as we pack up our things and head out of the studio. “Why does he always have something to say about my work?”

“I know.” She says. “He’s heinous. I thought your drawing was lovely.”

“Thank you.” I say. “And yours was too.”

She smiles blandly, never really interested in being complimented by me. “Do you want to get a salad for lunch?”

I tell her that I do, and together we face the frigid November streets and trek towards Georges street where Marnie insists they have the best salads, even though they all kind of taste the same to me and afterwards leave me wanting something more.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

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starmotte · 9 months

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3. 💍 JEWELRY: What are considered luxury items in the world of your WIP?

Does a little dance.

In the world of Albea, luxury items are fairly varied. So let's break it down a bit:

Clothing: Spider-silk clothing. Spiders have been semi-domesticated in Albea in the same way we irl have done to silkworms. Their silk is gathered en-masse after the long, warm summers cause them to create giant communal webs to catch prey, then it is washed and spun and THEN it's very carefully woven into clothing. And the clothing made from this silk is very, very flexible and a bit waterproof.

As you can imagine, this is a very long and exact process, thus the resulting products cost a small fortune.

Jewelry: Gemstones and fossils. But not for the same reason as Earth.

Genstones on Earth are pricy because of a bunch of different reasons. On Albea, they're pricy because Albean mining operations are MUCH different from Earth to deal with how easy it is to set off the environment - which means no strip mining, no explosives, nothing majorly destructive. Thus, certain gemstones are a much more difficult find.

As for fossils, Albea has a very robust paleontology circle - it's fairly common to see a person wearing some fossilized shells or even a tooth placed in a bottle as a necklace.

And finally, food: skyren meat. Is that animal name permanent? No clue. Anyways.

There is a giant, heavily specialized kind of bird that I am (for now) calling skyrens. Now, these giant creatures can cause effectively a land-based whalefall - often falling in the middle of prairies and deserts, bringing food to the ecosystem for possibly years.

Wamashi, being carnivores, also like to participate in this. The issue is it's very difficult to find a dying skyren before they're already decaying and/or have been eaten by scavengers. So when they DO get the meat (and feathers! They're useful for many things) it's an absolute delicasy.

#ask game #motte answers #writeblr #spec bio #worldbuilding #cosmos and currents #i think about the lemurs a lot

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bondsmagii · 2 years

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what do you know about vanishing hitchikers? are they found worldwide? are the majority of them harmless/harmful? are there any common factors in stories involving them? how do they look?

I love vanishing hitchhikers, so I know a fair bit.

are they found worldwide?

I have not looked into every country on the planet, naturally, but I have heard stories from all over the place. they are definitely present in the UK, and I've read many accounts from various different countries on every continent bar Antarctica (for obvious reasons). there was quite a lot of attention on them in Japan a decade or so ago, when there was a spate of sightings in towns that had been destroyed by the tsunami. taxi drivers were frequently reporting picking up passengers who would give them an address in an area that had been completely wiped out; others reported their passengers vanishing before they got to their destination. one taxi driver reported arriving at the destination -- which was just a flat foundation on the ground, the house having been swept away -- to find his passenger looking at him in horror. she asked him "I'm dead, aren't I?" and when he nodded, she vanished right in front of his eyes.

other people would report this, as well -- not just taxi drivers, but people in vehicles that had pulled over or stopped at a light. somebody would wave them down, or appear in the back, before vanishing at some point.

are the majority of them harmless/harmful?

in every account I've read, no harm has come to the driver directly from the phantom hitchhiker. some apparitions have been scarier to look at, or have acting threatening/said threatening things, but no driver has been physically harmed by the phantom hitchhiker. some drivers may be startled by a sudden appearance and run off the road, or swerve to avoid one stepping out, but the phantom hitchhiker has never itself caused direct physical harm. naturally I've not read every account, so some of them could be malicious, but most are just unnerving. many people do not even realise that the person they picked up is a ghost until after they vanish -- they appear completely solid and communicate like a living person would.

are there any common factors in stories involving them?

the most frequent factor I see is that the deceased is trying to get home. they either died on their way home, or far from home, and they're trying to get back. they often give a home address, but vanish before they get there. they also often seem to have died suddenly and/or violently: a car accident, a murder, a suicide, or a natural disaster. the suddenness and the violence of their death may have displaced their spirit, as suddenness/violence is much more difficult to come to terms with. I imagine most of them will fade as they accept they're dead (or, in the case of that one woman, when they have their death confirmed -- they may not even realise), but some have apparently been around for a long time.

how do they look?

it varies! they can be men or women; they can be dressed in typical hitchhiker wear (dressed for travel, backpack, etc) or they can be in work clothes, night clothes, casual clothes, party clothes... they can be dressed from different eras, though in all of the stories I've heard, they've been from eras where cars were common. I haven't heard of any hitchhikers specifically being dressed in extremely old clothing styles. they also do not tend to hold any signs, such as a real hitchhiker might; some of them will signal or hold out a thumb, but many seem to just stare and, being out alone in a remote place, a driver will stop out of concern -- especially when it's a woman.

most of them appear like real, living people: they're not transparent or partially formed. many of them speak, but are not overly talkative, and I have read accounts of phantom hitchhikers being completely silent. some of these types will communicate with pointing, nodding or shaking heads, etc, but some of them don't even do this. they don't tend to become transparent or visually unusual in any way -- they just vanish suddenly. sometimes this is unnoticed by the driver, other times they'll vanish when the driver is looking at them. they can vanish at any point in the journey -- sometimes when the car passes the place where they died -- or they'll vanish at the destination.

#creepy asks #anon #asks

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perplexingluciddreams · 1 year

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hello! i was just wondering what sort of reactions you've had to using AAC with strangers/new people. I know in one comment you said that many ask what your aac device is for, but was wondering if anything else has been said/repeated a lot.

because for me, i'm not usually asked what it is. people just presume i am deaf because I use aac, or ask me where my "mommy" is because they don't think i should be in public without someone to translate for them.

Do you find it common for people to grab your device? (I do- even when it's on it's strap. around my body.)

Anyway have a nice day/night/weekend/week!

I’ve not really had too much experience with reactions to AAC. Even before I had a proper device (back when I was still semi-verbal with unreliable speech (apraxia), I used to hand write notes or type on my phone and show people. Although, that was only once I could even get my thoughts out with typing/writing, though. For a long time I was just “the mute kid” or “the weirdo who never talks”, etc. (those are the “nice” examples of things that were said).

I got my AAC device when I was 16, and for years before that I had already been house-bound (only leaving for medical appointments). I am now also mostly bed-bound - this progressed over the years as my health declined. So I only get to see reactions from medical professionals, and in those situations my dad or whoever is with me will explain that I’m nonverbal and use a communication device at the start of the conversation. And even then I do very little communicating with my device - only when it’s absolutely necessary for me to say something that the person I’m with doesn’t know. It’s very difficult for me to communicate or interact in general, so I prefer for someone more capable to say things for me. Before appointments I have conversations over time with my parents who then repeat my answers to doctors.

I think what I said about “explaining what it’s for”, was just an example I gave as a possible thing I may have to deal with IF I was interacting with strangers directly on a regular basis (which I’m not). Although my dad will explain to doctors that it’s not just an iPad and I use it to communicate. (Currently I don’t use it much at all, even at home, because the device I have is not working for me anymore and I am in the process of getting a new one).

When I was younger I just used to avoid contact as much as possible… and sometimes my uncontrollable verbal scripting and echolalia would “save” me from true interaction. (I really was in very few social situations, and when I was, I was mostly very silent with the rare single spontaneous word, unless my scripting was “kicking in”). I did try other methods when I really needed to, though, such as writing letters/notes to people and having them read it while I’m there, and texting (this is the main way I communicate with my mum at the moment, as being around people is often too much for me to tolerate). I suppose those count as “forms” of AAC, however whilst being a bit odd in certain situations, they are normal and accepted methods of communication.

I have never had someone grab my device, although once again I barely ever leave the house, I only go to the hospital, and there’s always at least one person with me who holds onto my device most of the time. At home I use it like a regular iPad and it just stays in my room.

I’ve been presumed to be Deaf before, although not because of AAC. I’m just generally unaware of my surroundings and don’t always respond to people trying to get my attention, especially if they’re an unfamiliar person and I’m not expecting it. I also wear noise cancelling headphones all the time, so people have asked me or my parents if I can hear them before, because of that (the answer varies depending on if I’ve got music playing, what “mode” they’re in, etc.).

I actually do need someone with me to help me communicate with people, so I can’t answer that last part, sorry! I imagine it is very frustrating for people to assume you need someone with you, though. Asking where your mommy is also sounds very infantilising.

Sorry if this is not a great answer… I’ve not got much else to offer on this subject really. Have a nice day to you too!

#anon ask

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pynkhues · 2 years

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I love writing Rio, but what's not easy is writing his dialogue. He doesn't say that much in canon is the thing! So we just don't get to hear much of not only his diction, but also don't get too much of how he communicates outside Beth/girls, which is a very specific dynamic. We get a bit with Nick, but still not much. How do you get into Rio's head to write his dialogue? How do you get in his voice? And then not just how he speaks but what he'd communicate/share about himself?

I love writing him too, anon! He’s got a pretty specific cadence to the way that he talks though, so I totally get what you’re saying about him sometimes being a challenge, especially because – as you said – we tend to see him in pretty specific contexts which can make imagining him outside of them difficult.

I think for me, I do tend to write him and Beth both as fairly uncommunicative and deflective because, well, they usually are, haha. They’re both characters who think a good defence is a strong offence, and would rather play games or fight than be vulnerable with one another, so having them talk circles around what it is they both actually want is something I find really fun and rewarding.

What that looks like, and how I approach that, varies depending on the scene or the story I want to tell, but generally speaking my way into dialogue generally is through:

Dialect and slang

Context; and

Tone and body language.

All of these things are pivotal to making conversations between characters feel authentic and lived in, and having those conversations serve the narrative, but they’re also great things to think about in terms of fanfiction, because even if you’re writing an AU, things like dialect and body language are still elements that are pivotal to the character you’re writing and something you can use as a touchstone to bring said character to life in your fic.

As an example, let’s take a look at an excerpt from Drive You Mad (wear me out):

“Don’t you have a back-up plan, anyway?”

“Don’t you?” he snips back at her, petty, and she scowls at him, her chest flushing red above the neckline of his t-shirt.

“You know what?” she says, mouth pulled into a sneer. “I could’ve had a back-up plan if you’d actually bothered to tell me about this whole thing instead of just showing up at my job and having me drop everything to run around after you.”

It’s enough to make Rio snort on a laugh, tossing his busted cell back down into the cupholder, twisting his body sideways in his seat so he can rest one elbow on the back of his chair, the other on the steering wheel, webbing his fingers in between as he stares at her.

“Yeah, see, that’s kinda one o’ the perks of bein’ the boss, darlin’. You remember, right? Back when you thought you were one?”

She stares right on back at him, breathless for a minute, before she twists, briefly tanglin’ up in her seatbelt, enough it practically cups her breasts in a way that shoots hot through him, before she manages to release the seatbelt and fumble out of it. Her rage propellin’ her forwards.

“Those are big words for somebody who really managed to screw tonight up. You have no phone, you lost your boy, and you managed to give us away. So good job, Mr CEO, have fun justifying that to your board of directors.”

It’s quick, how much the heat in him fans into somethin’ white hot. He licks his teeth, drops his chin forwards towards her, unwebs his thumbs just enough to point at himself.

“I screwed up tonight? Oh, that’s fuckin’ rich, darlin’ - -”

“Yeah, you - - ” she tries to interrupt, but he won’t let her. He leans forwards in his chair, the tension inside him pulling taut.

“Nuh, see, I ain’t the one who gave us away in there. I ain’t the one wastin’ time battin’ my lashes at the guy I’m supposed to be workin’,” she reels back at that, her head shakin’, confused, and she can’t be, because she was - - “Fallin’ sideways on his - - ”

“What are you talking about?” she hisses, not letting him finish, and Rio just laughs, sucks in his bottom lip, before he levels her with the coldest look he can manage with her (and shit, it ain’t ever cold enough).

“What I’m talkin’ about is you scrappin’ around for attention wherever you can find it, coz that dumbass husband of yours can’t tell you apart from his mother.”

Somewhere outside of the car, he can still hear the echoes of the campsite, the whiz and the crack of fireworks, the thrum of cicadas. The hot gust of air from the car’s heating buzzes at his skin, circulates the smell of stagnant lake water and that too-sweet one that’s just her, and he watches the shock on her face shift into a bright and naked fury.

“You do not know the first thing about my marriage,” she says, her voice low and tight, and Rio just laughs, rocking his jaw forwards because that’s fuckin’ rich.

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No, you don’t,” she grits out. “It might come as a shock to you, but there is a lot you don’t - - ”

“Know you fucked me on a date with him,” he interrupts. “Know you fucked me in his bed.”

“My bed,” she hisses, and she drops her hands to the bottom of his shirt again, fiddlin’ in that way she does around him now, and his eyes dart down, and he has to tear ‘em back up to meet hers. “And we weren’t on a date. I was - - we were - - working.”

It’s enough to make him laugh for real that time, bark it out in disbelief, dropping his head forwards as he nods, pursing his lips before sitting back in his seat.

“Oh, so it’s work that gets you hot? Okay.”

***

With dialect and slang, I dropped a lot of ‘g’s (probably slightly more than I would these days, actually), the way he often throws questions back at Beth (‘Oh, I don’t?’) and used abbreviations (kinda), slang (darlin’, dumbass husband) and even just certain words that I felt he used frequently on the show (boss).

This alone I think works to an extent, but it’s really combining that with certain tones and body language that I think helps the most in terms of making a character feel, well, in-character. I made Rio interweave his fingers because it’s something he does a lot when he’s around Beth, particularly when he’s annoyed, and merged that with him turning around to face her in a car, also when he’s annoyed, haha, and I mixed that up with some of the ways we’ve seen him act when he’s both pissed off and horny, mostly using 2.06 as a reference point, because y’know, we got the spectrum of emotions from him in that episode.

Which comes down to the context. I knew what I wanted out of that scene – catharsis and bite and to get Beth and Rio at a breaking point again, so finding the little moments in canon where we get glimpses of that and borrowing from both the dialect and the body language of those scenes I think is what really helps to write the dialogue itself. Once you know what you want out of the scene, figuring out what moments in canon you can bounce off to create something that feels authentic is really a bit of a key to unlock the writing, I think!

And as for how much he chooses to reveal - Rio's a pretty mutable character, so I think it's really up to you and what you're going to enjoy doing. Like I said above, I like writing Beth and Rio as uncommunicative nightmares, and so giving myself opportunities to explore that, even in my established relationship fic, is what I'm going to do. Knowing what you want out of your story, and what you enjoy writing, is always the instinct you should follow, particularly when it comes to fanfiction.

#i hope this is a help anon!#writing rio is always an adventure haha #rio #nbc good girls #gg fic #writing advice #welcome to my ama

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crasherfly · 1 year

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PSO2: NGS is Terrible. Yet I Can’t Stop Giving Sega Money

Everyone has that friend who bugs them to play an MMO like it’s their evangelical mission. Whether WoW, FFXIV, Warframe, Star Citizen, etc, chances are there is someone in your life who is trying to get you to join at least one of those games.

However, one game that you are likely not being asked to play is Phantasy Star Online 2: New Genesis. And there’s a simple reason for that, really, one that its players dare not utter aloud-

New Genesis is actually pretty terrible.

It’s true, it’s true. And I’d argue most of us trapped in Sega’s wallet bleed world know it.

The gameplay of PSO2: NGS essentially amounts to holding an attack button and juggling a few cooldowns. The enemies amount to varying configurations of the same few amorphous red and blue blobs whose only intent is to kill you. The story is a slow burn of nonsense that might hold meaning to longtime series fans, but will not make an impression on newcomers to the series. The loot grind is long and unforgiving, demanding you play the same handful of raids and boss fights dozens, if not hundreds of times to obtain what you might otherwise buy in a shop were it not for the game’s extremely stingy three currency system. And many of the game’s systems and stats go unexplained, demanding dives onto wikis and youtube channels to figure out the way the opaque Battle Power score is calculated (only to learn that really, per the metal, only one or two of the many stats actually matter).

It’s a joyless loot grinder, a snoozer of a game (I literally fall asleep during raids some nights) with updates that make generous use of the term “drip feed”. This was made all the more clear with the big Episode 5 update, which included quality of life adjustments that should have appeared months ago, more of the stiffest rendered cinematics I’ve ever seen in a modern game and story missions that were, save for one encounter, just rehashes of the same fights we’ve been subjected to for months.

And yet.

AND YET.

I keep giving Sega money for doing exactly two things right-

>The game world is gorgeous, so much so that even devoid of context or reason to exist, it is a joy to escape to.

>The near infinite fashion options for your character creates the perfect social platform to project yourself into- and a safe space to explore and push norm boundaries for gender, identity, sexuality, etc.

I love building my wardrobe in PSO2. I can spend hours in the salon crafting looks. Even at level 1 there is nothing stopping a player from spending real world money on scratch tickets, trading in the personal shop and crafting imaginative looks. There’s no bar of entry to this, no cosmetic items tied to actual level or time played. Because of this, PSO2 blocks often feel less like an MMO lobby and more like the floor of a convention, with a mix of cosplayers and character actors, with the occasional sprinkle of monstrosity to round things out.

This community has a passion for a good outfit- and with the clothes often comes a moment of self-exploration. I think it’s safe to say I entered PSO2 with a fairly masculine view of what clothes looked good on a masculine model. But over the past year that has morphed and changed, and many of my looks shifted from classic “edgelord” male to something more middle of the road, with looks that incorporate many feminine accessories, show off more skin, or even make use of pieces like sweater dresses, garters and tights. In turn, it has expanded my view of what a masculine individual in 2023 can wear, and just how much of that expectation is molded by the culture around me. And that’s just the clothing conversation- the discussion of players experimenting with an in-game gender other than their own is another important facet worthy of note.

In PSO2: NGS, there’s a joke often repeated- Fashion is the true Endgame. In NGS, the clothes don’t just make the character- they arguably make the game itself.

And because Sega’s most substantial updates continue in the form of scratch off tickets for fashion items, it’s clear that the developers have an understanding of where the community’s heart lies. While I’m sure actual effort goes into the combat and story sections of PSO2: NGS, it’s undeniable that often these updates feel like an excuse in service to a fashion simulator.

It makes me wonder what could be if Sega, or another savvy developer, just yeeted the pretense of gameplay and story altogether in favor of a true social simulator. There’s clearly an appetite for high fantasy anime. PSO2 blocks are lively enough to suggest most players, especially and endgame, prefer to sit around with their friends in beautiful digital spaces. Why not lean into that with an experience that is both less grift-y and more honest about what the players are actually here for.

Of course, we know the answer, which ties back to a set of articles that came out recently from a Sims developer who noted that men who played The Sims in tests often lied about how they spent their time. Which is to say- the gameplay likely exists so that men do not have to admit that they are investing in what they are actually investing in. As long as you can call PSO2 a roleplaying game/action game, and not a social simulator/fashion simulator, there’s some plausible deniability there for those still clinging to a dated vestige of masculinity in 2023.

But maybe someday soon that changes. I’d hope so. The deeper I get into PSO2, the more I realize that it’s not the grind or gameplay that I’m craving from an MMO, but the social connections and self-exploration that can only happen when lost in a crowd of thousands doing the very same thing. The sooner we can agree that’s what we really want, the sooner the next great digital experience can arrive to give us just that.

Until then, I guess I’ll pass Sega another check for my digital fashion needs :(

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rmkenvs3000w23 · 1 year

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Unit 2: My Ideal Role as an Environmental Interpreter

It’s taken me longer than I thought it would to write this post. I think this could be because I consider myself to be much more of a generalist than a specialist. I like to say that I can talk a little bit about a lot, which makes imagining my ideal role as an environmental interpreter difficult. When thinking about the things that are important to consider for the role of an environmental interpreter - setting, intended audience, learning and teaching strategies, the story I want to tell - I immediately think about those interpreters and communicators who have most influenced me.

I’ve already mentioned Steve Irwin, David Attenborough, the Kratt Brothers, but I would add to that list people like Bill Nye, the Mythbusters, Jane Goodall, Carl Sagan, Jay Ingram, Ziya Tong, Dan Riskin, Richard Feynman, Hank Green, people who wear their enthusiasm for the world around us on their sleeves, and who share that enthusiasm with all of us. Not all of them are strictly speaking ‘naturalists’, or what you would think of first when asked to describe an environmental interpreter, but in unabashedly showing us that enthusiasm, they have all engaged and inspired millions of people, including me.

By showing us the farthest reaches of our world, zooming in on tiny micro-organisms, giving us sweeping shots of vast savannah plains, dense rain forests, and frigid tundras most humans will never see, inviting us to look up as they peel back the curtain that lines the night sky and give us with a peak at the cosmos, and by taking the time to explain all of the invisible forces at play so that we can have a more complete understanding of how all of it works, they are all natural interpreters. My proclivity for drawing from many different fields can be a great asset to my role as an environmental interpreter, but the idea of trying to transfer all of that understanding to the intended audience is slightly daunting, and I will have to be conscious of getting across a good mix of vital information and interesting, but maybe less related facts.

I also think of people like my Uncle Tom. Tom Browne is my Mom’s older brother, who has been a constant role model for me since I was little. Because I don’t think he’ll ever read this, I will describe him like this: I think deep down inside, a part would have loved to have been born two hundred years ago so he could have lived on the plains, able to take all the time would ever need to appreciate the natural world for what it is. He is one of the kindest and most giving people I have known, and he is also one of the biggest reasons for my love of the natural world. Over the years, he has rescued or helped to rescue dozens of animals that he happens upon. Turtles from the side of the road, racoons and opossums in neighbour’s backyards or chimneys, birds caught in fishing line, he goes out of his way to help whenever he can.

He also tries his best to learn as much as he can. Many times as he has been telling me a story of finding a gull with a lure tangled around its legs, or a turtle that’s been hit by a car, he’s suddenly gone off on an excited tangent about what he had learned in researching whatever it is that he was dealing with. This constant desire to learn and share that new knowledge is another aspect of being an environmental interpreter that is extremely important, and one I want to make sure I do effectively.

The role of environmental interpreter is linked very closely to the role of teacher. As my plan after my undergrad is to pursue teacher’s college and then eventually become a teacher, I can’t help but picture myself taking a group of student’s on an interpretive walk, sharing my love for the world around me and helping students appreciate the greatest and most important resource we have, our planet. In order to be an effective environmental interpreter or a teacher, an understanding of the diverse theories surrounding learning and teaching styles is vital. Beck et al. (2018) describes a variety of these in some detail, and I would be interested to try different interpretative activities in order to determine which strategies I am most comfortable with, and which ones I may need to put more effort into using effectively.

Works Cited:

Beck, L., Cable, T. T., & Knudson, D. M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: For A Better World. Sagamore Venture.

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sapphos-darlings · 2 years

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I used to identify as a butch lesbian, but I stopped due to dysphoria. I no longer can ever see myself identify as a woman and seeing the word is enough to make me cringe. I'm a lot happier saying I'm a straight trans man because I know there isn't any room in womanhood for people like me and that a lot of it is empty promises. I'll never be good enough for any woman and I'll always be lesser than cis men.

My darling Anon. I'm sorry to hear that you feel like you're in such a tight spot. I hope there will be happier times ahead of you soon!

I'm wondering though why you sent us this message. Of course, we are always happy hear from anyone in the WLW community, and we treasure all experiences! But I hope I can say something meaningful and useful to you.

I hope you don't mind me saying, but you sound depressed. You speak of things that stem from self-hate and feeling attacked and marginilized - and let me tell you, I hear you! We are living through hard times, politically and economically. One main reason this very blog exists is because I as a lesbian have felt silenced, erased and harassed, and Sade as a febfem likewise, so we wanted to carve out this space for us and women like us. We didn't want to be silent and invisible, so this is how we speak up, and hopefully make women like us visible too!

I'm telling you, as a lesbian and a woman with a mental health history, that you are in control of yourself, and your problems can be tended to, your pain can be eased, and you can get better. We can't fix the world, but we do have affect on our own surroundings, our lives, our relationships, and ultimately ourselves.

Now, if you are genuinely happy and content with transition, that's up to you. Many people are. Please note, we are not medical professionals, and all serious medical decisions must be made together with your doctor!! We are not qualified to advice you on treatment or cover the risks of any medical procedures!!

I have friends who have gone down that path, with varying results. But through them I also know that the process is long, hard, mentally taxing, and that you must check your expectations. My oldest friend, with no mental health problems prior or after, had to go through six months of evaluations with a psychologist before any treatments. Even though he didn't think he needed that, he said afterwards that it was really helpful just in general.

One thing was, you have to realize that transition isn't going to change you. It won't fix you, it won't magically change your life, and it won't give you your 'dream body'. You are still going to be you, with this personality, these feelings, and living this life. Your body will look different, yes, but it's still you, and your problems are still going to be there.

So take care of yourself and your mental health, Anon! There absolutely is room for all kinds of women. Even the butchest butch is still a woman like any other, just in her own way. Being a woman isn't wearing dresses or being meek and pretty or whatever else patriarchy is demanding of us today. We're all born naked, not with pink bows. There's also so much love, so many wonderful women in this world, and so much beauty. You haven't met all the people who will love you.

You are not doomed. You are not lesser than, not as you were, as you are now, or as you will be. No matter what.

You deserve someone to talk to. I'd recommend you seek out a mental health professional to help you cope with the stress, the pain you see in the world, and your feelings of isolation, depression and dysphoria alike. Talking about it might reveal stuff you never thought about, and it could bring order to your feelings and relieve that burden. From experience, just talking about your feelings can bring immense relief, and you'll get to focus on yourself and learning about you. There's more there than you might even imagine!

Other mental health hacks that can make you feel better and improve your quality of life in surprisingly efficient ways include:

Get enough sleep. Go to bed by midnight and get eight hours of sleep.

Eat regularly and well. Two hot meals in a day should be standard. (Tip: if you struggle with little energy, cook large portions at once. A big stir-fry or a casserole can feed you for several days, and you can always freeze some so it won't go bad.)

Limit social media time. Stop doomscrolling and stop feeding your anxieties. Let your brain rest, so for example don't start and end your day by bombarding it with a limitless social media feed. Disengage from discourse and anything that is making you frustrated, angry or depressed. Conciously dig yourself up from rabbit holes.

Go outside every day. It's a proven fact that spending time in nature eases anxiety and prolonged stress.

Exercise! This is especially for body issues. Start a new routine or start going for runs. You could also use the company of other female people, so look up local sports teams or hobby groups. Get those endorphines!

Spend time with your friends. You don't need to talk about things you don't want to, but just being in the company of others can be helpful. Connecting with people you care about, having fun, laughing; all this can lift your mood and get you out of your head.

I know these seem very obvious, but really they do work. You'll be amazed how many things are linked, how just rest, food and human connection can help you right now.

Don't give up, Anon! Be a friend to yourself. All the best on your journey!

-Lavender

#reply #mental health advice #self acceptance #dysphoria cw #body dysmorphia cw

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lifewtr · 2 years

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Don't Cout Me Out | M for Mature | 9/?

Summary: Incomplete ZK fic ideas (1: What Anywhere almost was).

The lights in Katara’s office are still off when he walks into work on Monday, but the door to the conference room is open and there is no mistaking her cadence.

His gait almost falters. Before he knows it he is changing his trajectory from the door to his uncle’s office and striding across the empty cubicle floor, bypassing the few other open doors with his coffee canteen gripped tightly between his fingers and his pulse thudding out of tune. The conference room is dim, brightened only by the active projector. Several seats of the long table are taken up by varying senior employees, his uncle included. Each and every one of them turns his way when he sees that, sure enough, Katara is standing at the front of the room.

“Kyason.” He interrupts, halted in his shock — in an abrupt wash of warm, syrupy affection and sudden lack of air in his lungs. Zuko clears his throat and stands up straighter. “I see that you’re back early.”

By a whole day, goes unsaid.

“Mr. Rokura,” Katara’s smile is perfectly polite but her eyes glitter when they meet his, and a reckless, unnamable emotion moves in swiftly after the affection; plucks at Zuko’s nerve endings with an acute sense of presage. “hello to you, too. Will you be joining us this morning?”

From his seat, his uncle raises an eyebrow.

Zuko can only nod. He grits his teeth as he rolls out the empty chair at his uncle’s side, and he says nothing when Song reaches behind the person between them to give him a knowing pat on the shoulder. Zuko pays her little mind as he leans into his seat and rakes his gaze up Katara’s physique from his spot at the back of the table. Katara continues through her bi-monthly report as if he had never so much as walked through the door, at once fueling that reckless thing now starting to balloon widely behind his ribs and at once sending warmth down his spine. Too quickly, he finds his thoughts whirring; finds his lids lowering in singular focus at the sound of Katara’s voice as he appraises her under the spotlight of the projector.

The stark lighting washes over her in a gauzy halo of pale blue-white against the darkened room, bringing out the chocolate tones in her half bound mahogany locks and highlighting the curve of her frame under the fitting fabric of her pinstripe navy suit.

The feeling in him sizzles and pops, and he doesn’t fully recognize it as belligerent indignation until Katara skates her gaze over him like it’s nothing.

He realizes then, distantly, that he should be happy to see her; happy to have her back on this side of the world where he can touch her and hold her if he wants, and he reckons that he would be — that he could allow himself to be — if only they were not at work. If only he were not faced first thing with her endlessly professional demeanor and the cool detachment she insists on wearing around him in the office.

Alas, he sits gripping his canteen and ignoring his uncle’s occasional looks, wondering when he can possibly get Katara alone — or even if he should... The plans he’d had of taking tomorrow off to pick her up from the airport died the moment he saw her. His plans to tie her up like she’d asked and fuck her nice and long into the night as a treat are dying right now. Those were plans for his reunion with his girlfriend, not his reunion with the Head of Communications. For the next eight hours he will be able to do nothing but look; nothing but imagine bending her roughly over his desk and yanking down the pants of her tight suit so that he can bury his cock to the hilt within her, instead of fucking her sweetly, because she is wearing that attitude. He can only imagine fucking her with minimal finesse until her work persona crumbles into nothing at his hands.

At first he tells himself not to create assumptions — to not blame her for being dutiful in her work, or for... possibly trying to surprise him, despite how the distance on the job riles him up like nothing else, because he does want to touch and hold her and fuck her sweetly; had imagined it since the moment she left for her flight to begin with — but when Katara finishes her report and takes up the empty seat across from him, her mouth upturned in more of a smirk than a smile, he knows for certain that the little vixen is entirely aware of what she’s doing. He knows for certain that his adoration will backburn in light of his domineering indignation.

I see, Zuko remains stoic under her flickering gaze; as the senior staff member next to him rises and readies for their report. Katara’s smirk widens, and then she is looking away.

An inexplicable heat catches flame in Zuko’s chest. I see you, little girl.

Song lends him a sheet of paper when he leans over to ask, and he ignores the fleeting feeling of eyes on him from across the table as he snatches a pen from the cup sitting nearby. Foolishly, he’d let his shock get the better of him, and had joined in on the meeting entirely unprepared. He gives the person standing in the light of the projector — Duke, he realizes, supply chain specialist — his full attention, just as he would on any other day.

Two can play the game, and he can’t remember the last time he lost.

Zuko leaves the door to his office wide open once the meeting concludes, as opposed to having it cracked as he typically did; makes sure his blinds are firmly shut from the view of the cubicle floor.

It’s an invitation. A warning and a dare that he knows she will see.

Come get it if you want it.

He busies himself quickly, going over his notes from the morning’s meeting and combing through the rest of last week's catalogues, even as Katara’s presence continues to weigh on the back of his mind. Zuko is man enough to admit that it becomes somewhat of a struggle as the morning starts to go on — just as when he’d first stepped foot off of the elevator, he all too easily catches the luring sound of Katara’s voice, and it’s nearly impossible not to strain his attention when he hears her out and about.

Impressively, he does not look up when she walks by the open entrance of his office, no doubt for some meeting or another to help bring her up to speed, but the distinct sound of her gait in heels — stilettos, he guesses by the sharp click they make on the tiles — does put a falter in his movement as he leafs between prints. It does make him want to throw out this little game she’s started. To lay her out on his desk in nothing but her shoes so that he can have a proper look.

To her credit, and to his personal disdain, from the sound of it she’d been lost in conversation with someone over the phone as she sauntered past, talking about what kind of PR strat to roll out for the massive project that their collection of Teo paintings is working up to be.

Zuko takes to chiding himself as he refocuses on his work — Katara is being as diligent in her work as she’s been since starting in as Head of Communications, and to think that she had returned early to be anything less than perfect at her job; to think that she returned solely for him is perhaps too bold on his part — but then he walks out of his office just after lunch rolls around and finds her stepping off of the elevator, smiling all too prettily at something that Jet Vimaan whispers at her ear as he sends her off the lift with a hand to the small of her back.

Zuko nearly chokes at the sight; grits just teeth but almost bares them when Vimaan catches his eye over Katara’s shoulder with that same cocksure grin that had solidified his dislike for the man from the very beginning.

The elevator doors shut. Katara pays him no heed as he tracks her path from the lift to her office, feeling a sharp, possessive heat fill him; feels that he is but a hair away from waltzing right into her space and shutting her blinds so that he might revisit a point, but Katara’s stop to her office turns out to be brief. In less than a movement she returns with a handful of her favored blue filing folders, making her way towards the copier room as she shuffles through them

Zuko sweeps his gaze over the nearly empty floor, most of everyone off grabbing something to eat for the hour.

A nasty, predatory thing roars to life in his chest.

It’s been a while since he last bent her over the little square table in that particular room—it’s entirely uncomfortable and Zuko has since learned that she kind of hates it.

It’s the perfect place to teach her a lesson.

It takes him no time to slip in after her; to pull the door quietly closed behind him. Katara starts at his entry, but Zuko eats up the distance between them before she can turn enough to see that it’s him. The sharp, surprised inhale she takes as she goes still at his body molding to hers pours hot fuel down his spine.

“Caught you,” he drawls the words low and steadily at her ear, mouth pulling into a grin when he feels the tension in her frame shudder. Her hair is soft against his cheek, and if it weren’t for the current circumstance he might’ve let himself revel in his first feel of her since her return. As it is, he uses the pretense of helping her stack papers into the whirring copier to press himself fully against her, holding her there against the whirring machine.

“Mm. You must want me to fuck you real bad, Katara. Real, real bad, to fly all the way back here and start acting a fucking fool like I wouldn’t notice.”

“Mr. Rokura,” Katara answers shortly, but it’s underlined with breathy sound that’s not quite a sigh but most certainly leans towards a moan, and Zuko knows right then and there that she knows exactly what he’s talking about. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh you don’t, do you?” He slides his hands from hers, reveling in the little gasp he gets when he melds them to her hips and presses her harder into the copying machine. “Tell me then, Katara. What was Vimaan doing with his hands on you?”

#zutara #zutara fic #atla fanfic #avatar the last airbender #***#posting these here bc why not?#that M rating is forreal #read at your own risk

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chordata-on-alterhumanity · 2 years

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a couple of questions, because im really new to this stuff:

1. im questioning if im an otherlinker/copinglinker, but im not sure yet- is it just saying "i wanna be this person/character/thing, okay, now time to convince myself of it/play into the role"?

2. whats the spectrum? when otherlinking to something, is it a range of "i kind of feel like this thing somewhat" to "i completely identify as this, but still aware im me"? same thing with uh- does it range from animals, fictional characters, objects, ect?

3. specifically with animals/beasts ect, do you also act like them in the form of walking, moving, appearance, ect, or is that only therians?

4. are you able to change what youre linked to often, or is it consistent, with only one thing at a time? or- are you able to have a constant selection you never really "break ties" with, if that makes sense? like a row of shirts you can choose from each day to wear. can you create links that fast? would i be able to make a list of links i can change with frequently whenever id like?

5. is there anything i need to specifically avoid asking/talking about regarding all of this because it might be unknowingly rude or offensive to those in the same community, or others?

if any of this doesnt make sense, i apologize- im new to tumblr, too

Heey, thanks for the questions!!

1. Basically, yeah! Otherlinking is about choosing an identity and reinforcing it, yeah! Though, the lines between it and other forms of identity, like otherkin, aren't always clear. "Quoiluntary identity" is a term used for identites that aren't pinpointed as voluntary or involuntary. For example, this week I started linking a character while at work, and it initially wasn't an active choice. It was random, like, I did something and then noticed a similarity between me and the character and that made me feel good, so I paid a little more attention to the similarities. It's not involuntary because if I stopped thinking about it the sense of identity would fade, even if the similarities between me and the char would stay (… until I grow and change as a person to no longer strike a resemblance lol. And being kin doesn't have to be about resembling your kintype in the first place! Being a linker doesn't have to be either. Your linktype could be how you imagine yourself internally, or only in certain situations, or or or… I'll get back to my point 'u' " ). Yet it's not fully voluntary either because the start of it was a random realization. Personally, I just call it all linktypes and don't bother thinking too much. But that's just my own choice!

2. That's the spectrum, yeah! The intensity can go all the way from just a little to full on. There's people who, after linking for a while, feel that the linktype has become so integral to them that it's become involuntary, aka a kintype by definition (Whether that's still called linktype or changed to kintype is up to the individual's choice). And it can be animals, characters, objects, concepts, colours, etc etc, yup. There's no limit to linking unless you harm yourself or others. So linking real people is an iffy subject (I think making a linktype based on a real person is a healthy way to go about the desire to link another living breathing being but pretending to be that person for real isn't a good idea).

3. Me, as a green woodpecker linker who feels the immense desire to cling to vertical surfaces like a woodpecker clings to a tree, tries to mimic their call, and more, yea. Yeah. But it can vary of course! It's the same for therians, actually. I've heard of at least one therian who was kin with wolves in more of a symbolic way than physicality, like, what they stood for in our human perception, the attributes we ascribe to them as a species.

4. I think this is different from person to person, so I'll again talk from personal experience. I have way too many active links at the moment. My brain can get indecisive about which one to "wear" lately. (My job involving a lot of multitasking and training my brain into being scattered doesn't help this imo.) You describe it pretty well by comparing it to a row of shirts. That's what it's like for me; I pick the one that most comfortably fits me or helps me the most. Some links can be created fast, others need time. I already mentioned a fast one in 1., but I also have a linktype that I built up for weeks before I felt any sense of identity in it. How easily a person can change into/out of/between linktypes may depend on the circumstances of the day. I'm sure there can internal or external circumstances preventing a change.

5. Hmm. The only thing I can think of is that we're not particularly fond of when people treat linkers like "otherkin lite", as if our identities are less valuable because they're chosen. If you understand that a chosen identity can be as meaningful as an inherent one, I think that's a given. The community at large also doesn't like being grouped in with "kin for fun"/"kff" people. I'm not 100 % sure I understand the concept of kff correctly, but I think it's people who claim they're kin but don't even identify as the thing. It's just a trend they're running with. It's perfectly fine to link something just for fun, so that's why the whole thing is a bit of a head scratcher for me. I think the disdain might be more because many kff trashtalk alterhumans (otherkin, otherlink, etc) than anything else. If anyone reading this can explain the kff thing better or can think of more things to avoid around otherlinkers, please reply to this post. That all said, don't hold back in asking questions because of the chance they might be rude! Rude questions can result in very interesting conversation.

I hope this helps! ^.^ Sorry in case there's typos and grammar mistakes. It's late and I'm tired but idk when there'd be the next time I have the time to collect my thoughts in order to reply.

#otherlink #otherlinking #ask #anon #alterhuman #alterhumanity #voluntary identity

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feminine-cow-babe · 1 year

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Now, i’m a trans person so i obviously disagree with a lot of what you say, but i was interested in a recent post you made so i wanted to say something respectfully. there are trans people in the world who see transness as something easy to define, that has rules. i will say i think a lot of radical feminists exaggerate the amount of trans people that are opposed to gnc people, but i will admit some trans people have a limited scope and can’t imagine abandoning gender roles! but more and more people i think are viewing the world in a more radical way where we abandon all “rules” and structure for gender. and this way of viewing includes cis people. the idea is that gender, and all of its behaviors, is ultimately a social construct that you can just… not abide by. you can simply accept yourself however you are, whether you wear your hair short or long, wear skirts or jeans, without trying to ascribe gender to it. and of course, many trans people will still be uncomfortable with their bodies, and that’s ok. and of course, people will still have their own personal sense of style, and that’s ok. and not everyone will want to give up on the idea of masculinity and femininity, and some people will.

i think also, if you think trans people aren’t embracing gender nonconformity, you haven’t been talking to very open minded trans people. personally, as a trans man, i see gnc women as my sisters, people i need to form an alliance with. i HATE more than anything, the division between non-binary people and binary trans people, between gnc people and trans people, between gay and trans people. at the end of the day, we’re all trying to establish a more open minded world, where people can *express* themselves without fear. i might be frustrated with your views, i mean, i don’t like transphobia, but ultimately what i want for you is redemption. i want you to accept me, because i see you as an ally! you’re fighting for gnc people, so am i.

Part 2 of the ask: "also, MANY trans people will tell you: it IS cis people’s place to consider gender, to talk about it, to question your gender and come out on the other side as a cis person. i LOVE that. i LOVE when people think about their gender as it relates to society, biology, and themself."

Part 3 of the ask: "also, you’re seeing transgender people saying things you disagree with, that’s fine, but you cannot represent the entire concept of transness as following those ideals. trans people are complex, and sure, go ahead and criticize parts of the trans community, but you should have an open mind! we are varied in our beliefs"

Alright lets get into this because im fine having conversations about this /gen

First, I am begging for people to drop the redemption angle and the assumption I don't accept like. Singular trans people? I don't care. Be a guy, a girl, a t-rex. Im not going to argue to the end of the world over opinion like that. Its why I don't bully my trans friend. Because I mostly dont care. The views I share on this page are mostly about the movement as a whole, and what ive seen as a bisexual woman. Because the overarching views of the movement drive me insane sometimes. (its also why- oooh opinion thatll get me hate in some of my circles- I will never bully otherkin or the alterhuman community. Believe your a dog or a dragon. Dont care)

I do also agree that theres a range to trans peoples beliefs. I never thought trans people were a monolith, same as any other group of people. There will be dissenting opinions and there will be arguments. Bickering. Radicals and those more Conservative. My problem mostly lies with the more radical end, which is what is posted on the internet more often. Have the same problem with multiple communities I am actively a part of.

I am glad more.. level headed trans people are on this app and online. I know its very difficult to see with how the internet works, rage bait gets the most views so its what spreads. Also I am autistic so I apologize if any of my views came off as me hating any and all trans people. I know how difficult it is not fitting in, im not going to subject that to others.

#LGBT #Trans #I probably sound so rambly here #yes my paragraphs are broken up weird I cant have huge blocks of text it gives me migraines #Trans anon

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glowingbadger · 3 years

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The Sylvain and Dimitri arranged marriage stuff made me think of a claude version of it. Maybe an AU where Claude never came to fodlan and reader has to marry the prince/king of Almyra to improve countries relationships. Anyway seriously love your stuff thank you so much for the content!!

Oh hoo Anon, this is a wonderful take on the concept. Let's see what I can whip up for us~

((side note I feel like we never learn whether Almyra speaks a different language from Fodlan?? But being multi-lingual is sexy so idgaf))

((And also I used Bengali for Almyran because I have Bengali family and the language is so beautiful even though the english alphabet phonetic spellings are weird af))

Claude x Reader - Arranged Marriage

NSFW 18+ (like only towards the end tho idk)

Overall, you do what you can to stay out of the way. You'd been sent to Almyra as a symbol- a token, more than anything else. Now that you were in King Khalid's possession, very few throughout the castle paid you any particular mind. You were provided for, of course. Anything you cared to ask for was given. But you didn't speak a word of the Almyran language, and those who bothered to use what they knew of Fodlan's to communicate with you seemed to view you as a pet to be kept safe and healthy, and little else.

By week's end, there was to be a lavish banquet in honor of your union with the King- though of course, your input on the proceedings is entirely unwanted. In some ways, Almyra is quite similar to Fodlan. Court life is much the same. As you wander through the royal gardens, wondering at a range of colorful and exotic flowers you'd never heard of, let alone seen, a voice speaks smoothly behind you.

"Did you know you can actually eat the petals of this particular flower? They're very sweet."

You whirl around and nearly bump into King Khalid. You're about to stammer out an apology, but he reaches out and plucks a single white petal and holds it before your lips.

"Go on, I think you'll like it."

Whatever possesses you to eat a flower petal from this man's hand is something you'd rather leave unexamined for the time being- but he is right about the flavor. It's sweet, but not overly so, and quite pleasant.

"Hm! Yeah, it's nice," you say, then glance up at him as another thought occurs to you that you'd considered once or twice before, "You speak the language of Fodlan very well, my Lord."

"I'm flattered," he says with a disarmingly handsome smile, "and please, just Khalid. I don't think I could bear to have my own wife stand on such formality with me."

He says it so naturally, as if you'd been planning this union for years. Though, once again, he's right. This is only perhaps the dozenth time you've exchanged words, but you are wed, and you ought to get used to addressing him as your husband.

"Khalid..." you say tentatively, "Did- did you need something from me? I hope I wasn't too much trouble to find."

"Not when you find such pleasant places to hide," he replies, still wearing that easy smile, "but to be honest, I was actually hoping you'd accompany me for the day. I can finally afford to take a bit of time away from the castle, and I think you and I both would appreciate some space to breathe. What do you say?"

Correct once again. You nod, and take the arm he offers you. As he leads you out from the gardens, he points out a few more plants native to your new homeland. They're incredibly varied, each more strange and vibrant than the last. All the while, he's somehow made you feel as though you're chatting with an old friend. You leave the gardens and wander towards the area you vaguely recall to be designated for horse stables and wyvern stalls.

From there, a few things happen in sequence. Khalid asks if you're afraid of flying. He asks if you trust him to hold on to you. He helps you up onto the saddle that seems impossibly high up on its own right, and then, you're propelled into the air with a force your body has never felt before. You tense and shrink back against his chest, clinging to whatever part of the saddle you can find purchase on for dear life. Up here, it's difficult to pick up, but you feel your husband laugh behind you, then his strong arm wrap around your waist.

"Relax, I won't let anything happen to you," he says against your ear, his voice sure and steady, "I've got you."

And it takes a few miles of flying and a lot of Khalid distracting you by pointing out different buildings and shops along the streets below, but eventually, you do manage to relax- at least a little.

The castle town is positively buzzing with activity. Even from your distance in the sky above, you can see clusters of people moving around each other like fish up stream, and even hear the faint echoes of a merchant advertising goods.

"It doesn't seem at all like the Almyra we're taught about in Fodlan."

"Oh, it is," Khalid assures you with a bemused chuckle, "But it's also much more. I imagine it's the same for your people. There's a lot we can learn from one another, I think."

By the time the sun is high in the sky, you've passed the most densely settled part of town and are gliding over farmland and the occasional pocket of forest and rivers that split and cross through the earth like veins. Though, the warmer climate of Almyra will still take some getting used to, and it seems your husband considers this.

"Let's land for a bit and find some shade,"

You nod, and he directs his wyvern to begin a slow descent.

The King had thought of everything for this little day-trip, it seemed. Having evidently packed everything you'd need in the saddlebags on his steed, you now recline beside him on a plush blanket in a clearing amidst the trees. A small brook bubbles down from stone to stone in small waterfalls beside you, and the air feels positively alive with birdsong and rustling leaves, all foreign to you and all part of your new home. And so is he, you think as you glance over at the handsome figure of your husband beside you.

You'd been sitting in a comfortable quiet, munching on a couple of very dense pastries which Khalid had told you incorporated an extract of the flower you'd sampled earlier. He gives a satisfied sigh as he finishes his first and lies back on the blanket, taking in and savoring a deep breath. As you finish the last bites of your own treat, you reflect on the day thus far. You'd learned much about the locals and their daily lives by observation and Khalid's description in such a short time, and he'd even taught you a hand full of basic words and phrases in Almyran.

"Uhm, Khalid?"

He opens one eye and gives you a sideways glance.

"It was... dhonnobad, right? Thank you?"

His smile his open and warm, his eyes practically shimmering in the reflected sunlight from the nearby brook.

"Well, we'll have to work on your pronunciation, but I'm impressed you remembered," he beckons you down onto the blanket beside him, and you follow, lying on your side as he turns towards you. You're closer than you'd anticipated, even given the limited realestate of the blanket, and you internally scold yourself for being shy about something so silly- like some naive adolescent.

"Let's try a couple more words, since you've been such a diligent student."

"Okay," you say with a smile, "try me, I'll do my best."

"Hmm..." he looks around your private clearing, then gestures towards the brook and says, "Jala"

"Jala," you repeat slowly. He nods,

"Right- that's 'water'. And, uhm..." he points toward a patch of wildflowers at the edge of the brook, "Phula. That's 'flower'."

Again, you repeat as best you can, and though you know your pronunciation must be off, he's encouraging nonetheless. Then, he leans in towards you, and brings his free hand to your cheek, his fingertips brushing your skin lightly.

"Now try sundara."

"... Sundara?" you make an attempt, and you're sure you got something about that 's' sound mixed up, but Khalid just gives you a slanted smile. He doesn't clarify at first, so you ask, "What does that one mean?"

His fingers slowly weave back into your hair, and his voice is low and soothing as he replies,

"That means 'beautiful'."

Your face warms immediately, but you hardly have a moment to feel bashful about it before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you slow and deep. His movements are effortlessly sensual, pulling you towards him and sending your pulse pounding through your veins. You part your lips to him almost instinctively, and the way he uses his tongue is sparing, but oh-so effective. When he finally pulls away, your head is spinning and it's all you can do to meet his gaze.

"So... that's how they kiss in Almyra." you say, barely above a whisper. Khalid smirks and turns you onto your back, sliding an arm around your waist.

"Oh, no- there's no tradition in this, only skill."

Goddess- if they'd warned you of the King's supernatural charms, you wouldn't have believed them. But now his lips are on yours once again, and he's holding your body to his, and you can't think of anything else. Your arms drape across his shoulders, and faster than you can track, your bodies have met in a tangled, impassioned embrace. It was hard to imagine that mere kissing could feel so erotic, but something about his pace, about how his lips and hands move in tandem, about how thorough he is in exploring you, makes you feel like it would be only natural to give yourself over to him completely.

His kiss travels along your jawline up to the shell of your ear, where he nips briefly, then murmurs,

"I was hoping to apologize for how little time we've had to get to know each other before today," you bite at your bottom lip as his hand slides down to the curve of your hip, "if that would be pleasing to you, my dearest wife."

"Ye- yes..." you sigh into the open air as his lips reach your neck. The single word is all either of you need. He never stops pressing lavish kisses to your lips and neck as he pulls your clothing out of his way. By the time he's satisfied, your clothes are draped off your arms and pooling around you on the blanket- and he doesn't seem to care to remove them entirely. He has a goal in mind.

Slowly, painstakingly, he makes his way down your body. You feel him everywhere- hands tracing and memorizing your frame, breath hot across your skin as his lips spoil you with adoring kisses. Soon enough, he's kissed his way to your lower stomach, and he urges your thighs apart beneath him. You suppress the instinctive wave of embarrassment at being exposed to him for the first time- he is your husband and your King, afterall- but then, his head dips down towards your plump lower lips, and your mind goes white.

"Khalid-!" you gasp out as his tongue trails coyly up the crease of your folds. He hums contentedly, and places a disarmingly chaste kiss to the soft skin. Then, his thumbs gently spread you open for him, and your entire body burns while he takes a moment to merely admire you- your pretty little hole already wet, your clit already hard and flushed dark. When his head lowers once more, his green eyes meet yours steadily, as though to promise without words to be good to you.

And in a moment, his mouth begins to gently tease your clit, and your head tilts back on the blanket. Your hips jerk just a bit with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive bundle, and occasionally you can't hold in a gasp or whimper of pleasure. This only encourages him, of course. The more you moan and sigh, the more dedicated he becomes to your body. He presses himself more firmly to you, his lips surrounding your clit and the surrounding tender flesh, and he suckles on you, licks you, kisses you. You don't know when it happened, but your hands are at the back of his head, fists tangled in thick brown hair as he diligently works.

The unbearable tension is winding tight and anxious in your lower body- you know he'll drive you to climax before long, and the mere thought feels like falling in love. And then Khalid moves lower, and his tongue dips inside of your entrance. You gasp and unwittingly tug on his hair- but he certainly doesn't seem to mind. With a lustful groan, he presses more firmly to you, truly buried against your body as his dexterous tongue curls upward, stroking the vulnerable spot behind the nerves of your clit.

"Khalid!" this time it's nearly a scream, and you're grateful that your voice is lost in the surrounding foliage. Your thighs begin to shake, and your hands release him to instead clutch the blanket behind you. And at last, with a whimper in a voice you hardly recognize, your lower body floods with soaked warmth as your orgasm sweeps through you. Panting, twitching, you moan out for your husband over and over, until finally, the wave begins to subside, and Khalid pulls away to position himself above you on all fours.

"That's a nice expression..." he says with a grin, directing you to look at him with a hand at your chin, "I hope I'll get to see it often."

When your eyes finally refocus, you look up at him somewhat apologetically,

"I should... attend to you."

He laughs and kisses your forehead,

"There will be time for that tonight, don't you think? Once we're a bit more... put together," he says with a glance at your bare form, "we should head back to our ride. I'll bring you back to the castle, and we'll get the cooks to prepare something very 'Almyran' for you."

You nod- it probably wouldn't do for the first time with your Lord Husband to be mid-day in the woods. Though he'd certainly failed to make it seem unappealing.

"And then," he goes on, bringing a finger to trace the curve of your bottom lip, "Well, maybe we'll excuse ourselves to our bedchamber a bit early this evening, and we can continue this little... cultural exchange."

#why do these always end up so long urg #claude von reigen #fe3h #claude x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem #feh #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem imagines #x reader #claude fire emblem #not sfw writing

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