#not me going between writing like a sentence or two and then adding another line or two to the drawing
Note
that recent miguel fic was so hot omg now I want to request one 😳. Imagine dbf!miguel sexting us while away at a business trip or while reader is out with friends or something (..or even over the dinner table while out with our dad.. maybe..) he’d definitely be writing the most poetic, romantic yet filthy and disgusting texts ever, like ones you’d have to take breaks after each sentence because oh my god..
& with his ancient ass hed most likely send nudes via email as well 😔 but we’ll eat it up every time!
HIDDEN CONNECTIONS ┈ ! ✶
₊❏❜ content⋮ dbf!miguel x f!reader. huge age gap. readers aged up (18+). dirty talk. sexting. porn w not much of a plot.
note⋮ i love reading through these requests, i love y’all so much 😭!! yet again, sorry for the wait, procrastination has been eating me alive lol. but without further a do, i hope you enjoy 🙈.
dividers by @cafekitsune.
you sighed, pushing a few strands of hair behind your ear as you browsed through the websites catalog, eyeing all sorts of styles. you wanted to up your relationship with miguel and try something new, so you decided to go lingerie shopping.
you scrolled through the petite section, bored out of your mind as you tried to look for something interesting and more erotical. you took a glimpse at the time, noticing that it was past midnight.
you raised a brow, "already? could've sworn it was eight a few minutes ago." you murmured to yourself as you glanced back at your screen, a baby pink set stood out to you and your eyes lit up, clicking on the link without hesitation.
the price was pretty expensive, but you marked it into your cart - just then a notification from gmail appeared at the bottom right of your screen.
it was from miguel.
miguel was your dads best friend, and you grew smitten by his charm growing up. at first you believed that it was a silly little crush that you’ll eventually get over, but that never happened.. instead your relationship with him began developing throughout your young adult years.
you sensed the irresistible tension and you started to question what the two of you were, and your question was answered when one thing led to another, both your clothes being discarded as things became heated in such a short amount of time.
but you struggled with your feelings, torn between your blossoming desires for miguel and the guilt associated with betraying your father's trust; but the age difference between the two of you only added a sense of excitement to your relationship, and both of you fell into the temptation of your desires, initiating an intimate connection, and that’s how you two got yourselves into a secret affair.
as you opened the email, the subject line immediately caught your eye. 'mi luz,' it read. miguel was about twice your age, and for some reason he always stuck to emailing no matter how many times you taught him how to regularly text — he believed emailing was better because they were more formal and easier to navigate.
you quickly opened the email and giggled, “esa linda sonrisa tuya ilumina mi día, y esos ojos tuyos iluminan mis noches."
a small grin curved upwards onto your glossed lips, it sounded kind of corny but you strove to decipher the meaning and intent behind each word. your hands flew across the keyboard as you quickly replied. “pfftt, you’re flattering me miguel. what’re you even doing up so late?” you pressed on send, and not long after you received a new notification.
“i’ve been thinking about you, i miss you. n' what's your excuse for being up so late hm? it's past your bed time nena.”
you could sense his teasing tone over the damn screen, and you couldn’t wipe off that cheeky grin of your face. your fingers hovered over the keyboard, you wanted to keep it a surprise, but the excitement got a hold of you first.
"well.. i was online shopping.. and came across this, what do you think of it?" you messaged along with the picture of the lingerie attached.
you waited eagerly for his response, like a puppy wanting to receive validation from its owner. maybe you should've waited, but you couldn't keep surprises a secret.
"why? are you planning on seducing me with that little outfit, chiquitita?”
a mischievous grin plastered onto your face reading his reply.
“maybe, maybe not, but you didn’t answer my question. do you like it? y'know, easy access.”
“the lace is pretty. yea i like it, and you're right. it does have such easy access. i’d love to see you in that.”
you chuckled, switched tabs and clicked on the checkout option. you filed in the credit card information along with the address, admitting the final 'confirm payment’ button.
“well you’re in for a surprise when you get back from your trip mister." you typed, "how much longer do i have to wait until i get to see you, you know i don't like waiting, i really miss you.”
“aww, getting needy aren’t we? i’ll be back home around this week darling. can’t wait to see you all dressed up for me. i’m looking forward to splitting those pretty legs of yours open and play with that pretty pussy until your soaking wet on my fingers.” he wrote back as you overlapped your legs to feel your clit pulse in your panties.
“i really miss you mig. just want you to sink your fingers into my hole and tell me how much of a good girl i am. i need you to come home n’ fill me up, fuck me into this damn mattress.”
“i want to come home just as badly as you want me to, but we both know that this business trip is important. but i promise you that i’ll bully my cock into your weeping pussy and fuck my cum into your tummy.”
your heart raced and you squeezed your legs tighter as you read email, as you and miguel continue your fiery exchanges, the emails become more explicit.
his filthy words made you palpitate, and he never failed to noticeably make an impact on you, you always found yourself drenching your undies. “fuck yes. use me, want you to pound your cock into me, m so wet at the thought.”
“yea? que putita eres mi amor, show me how much of a slut you are, show me how wet you get from telling you how good i’ll fuck you chiquitita.”
you sat up eagerly, slipping your sleeping shorts down to your thighs as you clicked on the small camera icon. slowly but lewdly you spread your legs, your hand came down to rub at the wet patch on your panties. your cursor hovered over the white button as it snapped the photo, and with another click you hit send.
your grew hot and impatient as you began pressing on the sticky nub over the drenched fabric. it was ridiculous how you were sexting using via email, but it only served to make you beyond hornier with the new adjustment.
“shit baby, look at how you’re fucking dripping. why don’t you go and hump your pillow, yea? tease your little cunnie for me, wanna see your cute pussy wetting the bed. i just know you’ll be letting out the most cutest noises while thinking of how i’ll fucking ruin you when i get back.”
heat raced through you and towards your core, you had to pause to take a deep breath.
holy shit.
you felt your cheeks go hot, and you reached for the pillow as you happily obliged, eagerly kicking off your panties and thighs cradling the soft silk as you settled your warmth into the pillows edge.
you let a soft moan feeling your clit pulse again. you bunched up your blanket and placed it underneath your abdomen as you leaned forward, stomach pressed up onto the bed sheets and the comfort of your blanket.
your page refreshes and your met with another email from miguel, this time there was a few images attached to his message.
you opened it and you feel your cunt clench around nothing. his belt was undone and you could visibly see the pink leaky tip sticking out of the confinements of his boxers, the second image displayed the underside of his fat girth and you felt yourself beginning to drool, the third photo portrayed his thumb rubbing on his slit as a string of his arousal stuck onto on his thumb, showing you just how sticky he was and the caption overall made you bite your lip.
“gonna put you on all fours, y te voy a poner al reves, te veras tan rica mientras te lo hago por detrás.”
you slowly roll your hips, your slick dampening the fabric and you effortlessly slide against the cushion. you moaned, tilting your head to the side and drifting deeper in thought. you start to think of him atop of you, his body fervid against yours, his heated lips attached to yours, his pelvis snug into yours as his cock splits you open — your hips hump the pillow faster and you whine out in euphoria.
your thighs tensed around the soft pillow and you feel your pussy practically flutter. with another rough roll of your hips you stutter, clit pulsing as you gush onto the bed sheets.
#ff⋆reqs 🧁#ff⋆inbox 📬#hornyhour#feistyfreaks#dbf!miguel#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv miguel#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#across the spiderverse#spiderman 2099#smutmas 2023#xmas#kinkmas
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The MODERN MIRAN SCRIPT. Basically the continuation of the old school Chimeric that I covered in this post. That has most of the nitty gritty and this is more so about the branch of the language. The BIG info dump below the cut!
Chimeric is the original, a purely written language used by chimera when talking is unavailable. Written in a circle heading inwards with two defined lines of dialogue. The subject/action 'real' substance and the tonal, emotional intent of the writer and sometimes reader. Chimeric is still used by the remaining population to talk within their ranks, but nearly every chimera is at least bilingual depending on where they ended up. Back in Mirum the written language of Chimeric stayed behind but has been pretty heavily modified to better suit the reading style of the people that remained. Mainly Histin who cut out pretty much all the fluff and added a bit more structure.
So! As opposed to the radial style of Chimeric, Miran has double decker sentences. With the top row being the remnants of the Subject quarter and the bottom row being the Action quarter. Linkage of subjects and actions take place between the two lines. Plus there is a new form of linkage, the priority/influence links which show which subject is acting upon who, and define action sequences.
While Chimeric is written inwards radially, Miran is written top to bottom, starting going from left to right then right to left and alternating down the page. Also circular paper is swapped for rectangular, think a standard 8x10. Still, you are expected to enclose sentences within two parentheses, lil hold over from the circular days. But to the outside perspective the largest difference between the two is their tones, or well overtonage of one and lack of tone in the other. Chimeric is the 3 paragraph overly detailed text, Miran is the single word response. Lest to say they do not mesh super well.
ANOTHER fun hold over I want to add but am still thinking over characters for is that for rare fancy words (poetry/music/heart speak) Miran can slide in a THIRD ROW in between the first and second. There the spoken tone quarter manages to eek out a meager Miran existence through a few dozen sets of characters to convey certain emotions and the like. Songs in Miran very often have multiple sets of lyrics overlaid in this fashion, the largest can have 5+ tonal rows.
Oh that reminds me! Miran DOES have a spoken equivalent. Or rather, the original shared Histin/Diagrevies language has been stretched over to fit better with the written word. That in itself has split the spoken word in Mirum in two once more, with spoken Miran and Draconic being the two main talkings. Histin typically only speak and read Miran, whilst Diagrevies will speak both; with their preference being draconic. A Diagrevies will typically have a Histin under their employ to read and write for them since ya know, they cannot see.
All this taken into consideration though, Miran and Chimeric are still basically two ways of writing the same basal language. Not that modern speakers like to admit that. But small character additions and style changes aside, if you can read one you can get the gist of the other. Miran is by far the most spoken in modern times tho. Its a little more accessible for different species than Chimeric.
Want to get more into the modern Mirum dealings. The chimera may be absent but their influence is still very plain to see if you know where to look.
#yay i missed drawin all these guys#chimera#histin#diagrevies#kinda#they dont get the writing unfortunately#no true north#worldbuilding#conlang#art#mirum
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🎁
send me a 🎁 and I’ll write five sentences of what I’m working on and share one
I wasn't working on anything yet but wrote this instead so you get all of THIS.....) (reminder to donate to this cause if you enjoyed reading this!!!!!)
Word Count: ~1k!
Fandom: NCIS: Hawai'i
Ship: Kacy
Read it here on ao3.
@when-you-are-stranger you might like this :)
Kate naturally wasn't a jealous person. Normally, she was quite confident in who she was seeing and how they were feeling about her at any given moment. It'd never been a problem before, certainly, that she'd gotten hotheaded over a partner.
So when she snapped the pencil in front of Lucy getting flirted with--- well....that was a new experience for her. Lucy wasn't entertaining the flirtatious advances, of course. They were together. But that didn't mean Kate liked seeing it happen.... Right in front of her coffee, for fuck's sake!
Okay, so maybe while they were together, and that was factual, it wasn't exactly... well known to the rest of the team. They were keeping things down on the low, secret. Kate wasn't even sure why anymore. It had been her idea.
So Kate couldn't even get mad.
(More mad than she was.)
She wanted to get mad.
(Pencils be damned.)
She wanted to declare in front of everyone that they were a couple and to back The Fuck Off of her girl. But that was an angry thought, a thought based off fear of rejection. Instead, she commented on the pick up line with a dry look. "You broke my pencil by being bold enough to use that dull of a line." She drawled out.
Lucy giggled. Oh god, Kate wanted to give her the world. Kate sighed as she looked at Lucy, "what? Was it going to work?" she asked lightly. Trying to infuse in her tone of voice that she was not threatened by this man's "moves" or lack thereof.
Lucy rolled her eyes, looking only slightly apologetically at the coffee shop employee. "Sorry, but no. I've heard lines about these eyes longer than you've been alive, kid." She confessed. "besides that," she added. "I have a partner."
Kate tried not to puff up with pride at the words--- Or at the way the cashier deflated. SHE WAS THAT PARTNER!!!! Yeah!!!!!
Kate needed to get a grip on herself.
"Here's your order."
The barista called out after a pregnant pause --- the pause involving a very loaded gaze off between the two women. Looking at Lucy, Kate couldn't remember why they were keeping this - them - a secret. But she couldn't just out them on her own. No.... bad idea.
"C'mon," Lucy tugged Kate's sleeve along as they grabbed their individual drinks from the counter. "You're holding the line up, Whistler."
"I want to go out with you." Kate said intelligently, obediently allowing herself to be tugged away. "In public. With you. And I want to tell the world that you have decided to give me another chance. But only if that's okay with you! I understand if you don't want to, it's just." Kate gripped her drink almost a little tooooooooo tightly. Luckily, she realised in time and stopped: Stopped the squeeze, stopped the motion of moving forward.
"I understand if I've given off too many red flags for you to even really want to date me at all. But right here and now, all I can think about is kissing the foam off of your lips." Kate continued to ramble, and would have gone on to say more, really! She was prepared with a whole speech! Except!
Lucy kissed her. In front of all the coffee shop. In front of all the employees who had hit on her. In front of all the customers who were waiting on their mediocre coffee. And oh god, Kate could taste the coffee on Lucy's lips as the kiss intensified for three....four, no, five, seconds until Lucy pulled away smiling beatifically.
"I could think of worse things."
Kate couldn't think of anything, let alone "Things Worse Than Dating Her".
All she could think of was the taste Lucy had allowed her of a life that she So. Desperately. Wanted.
A life with Lucy Tara.
#prompt fill#kacy fic#kacy ficlet#kacy#ncis hawaii fanfic#coffee shop au#jealousy#kate whistler#lucy tara#when-you-are-stranger#haeva#written prompts#my writing#argos writes
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I'm gonna send you another one after I've slept with a proper thought-out choice that is really about your fics, but I saw ✎ in the list and I couldn't resist :P
Trying to gain some insider info to use against me in the next exchange, I see. 😄😂
If someone were to guess an anonymous fic was mine, the easiest way would most likely be by looking at the tags themselves. I structure my tags very specifically, using the same types of tags on each fic (when on the timeline, POV, tone/genre, character & relationship modifiers, tropes & themes, minor things that happen, triggers, ending, format/structure tags, purpose/event tags, etc.), and in the same general order.
But as far as the actual writing goes, that is something a lot trickier to answer lol. As you know, I tend to write angsty topics (grief, tragedy, MCD, etc.), so the content itself could aid in exposing me. Also, I almost always write from either Phoenix's or Miles' POV, and almost everything I write has some Narumitsu element in it.
Another content thing is that I create and reference little memories (as well as items that represent those memories) for the characters in almost every fic I write. It's one of my favorite ways to flesh out a character's relationship with others and also to pull at emotions (especially if it's the case of a character remembering moments they had with a lost loved one).
For more mechanical stuff that could help give me away:
So far, I've only written in past tense.
Other than in rare occasions where there is no other way to say it effectively, I don't italicize a character's direct thoughts or write them in first person. Instead, I blend the character's thoughts in the internal monologue and narration and keep it in third person.
Along those lines, I put questions in the internal monologue fairly often.
While I don't use certain epithets (hair/eye color, profession, age, height, etc.) other than in select situations, I love using ones that show a relationship between characters (friend, partner, husband, father, sister, daughter, etc.)
I may use em dashes, colons, and semicolons more than the average person.
I use one-word sentences and one-sentence paragraphs quite often.
Not usually added until the editing stage, but when I search for synonyms, I'll usually pick words that will create alliteration (usually capping it to two or three words close together), but I won't pick an alliterative word over a synonym that works better (either more accurate or has the connotations I'm going for/gives a double meaning).
I use intentional repetition fairly often, especially in a character's inner monologue, to really draw attention/give more weight to something they are thinking/feeling.
If you see me start listing things, most of the time I will use the rule of threes.
That was what I was able to think of for now. But I'm sure there are things I do that I missed, or things that people have picked up on that I'm not aware of. It was fun to think about what I tend to do when writing that could give me away.
Thank you for the ask! 🥰
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It’s coming.
Hellooo, just giving you all a little update and teaser regarding the event I have mentioned for a while, and which is finally about to begin!
Yes, it is finally time. To reply to an earlier reblog I saw some time ago: yes, I guess we are going to Dracula Daily the Layton novels now. Or at least I will try to keep this up for as long as I can. I am very much hyped too 👀
The Eternal Diva novel will be cut into about twenty parts,
so this will be a twenty-week journey (unless one part happens to be extremely short, then maybe I’ll merge it with the previous or next one for example). And after that, hopefully by then the transcript of another novel will have progressed enough to start all over again with a different story! So far, a French friend (who doesn’t have a tumblr) is helping me make a transcript of the Illusory Forest novel; so fingers crossed, as this might be the next in line! Yep, for those interested in my theories, it is the very same novel that I’ve talked about for so long, and it is arguably the craziest of all. Just the way it starts is an absolute roller-coaster.
Also, I lied. Updates are going to be on Mondays now.
I was not ready to post yesterday, Sundays already have their Layton-related weekly event, and since I am too impatient to wait until next week, I thought I might as well make this a thing for Mondays instead. Gotta end the first, universally depressing work day of the week, with something uplifting, am I right? :3
I am going to give you a warning, though: as much as I’d like to keep the translations as close to the originals as possible, I am also, unfortunately, a fanfic writer, and the novels’ writing style is very different from what I usually write. Also there’s some weird stuff such as verb tense consistency in Japanese… Ohhhhhhh dear this part is such a nightmare. You can have verbs in the present tense and others in the past tense in the same sentence. You can have a sentence in the present tense and another in the past tense right after. I hate this. I hate everything about this.
So, I will try to restrain myself (because if you already took a peek at SLS, you already know what my writing style is really like), but I sometimes couldn’t help but add a sentence or two, cut a sentence into multiple ones, make the dialogue less robotic and more lively, that sort of thing. For example, if there’s a lot of dialogue going on and on without any narration in-between, I might sometimes add a sentence or two just to break it up a bit and make the scene sound less static. That sort of thing.
I will try my best to make it sound similar to what the official game translations did, in the end! The Japanese dialogue is usually rather bland and repetitive, but the official translations added a lot of details and quirks that are completely absent from the original text, but which also make the characters feel like, you know, themselves as we know and love them.
So here’s a reminder that if you want to know what the real Japanese text says, do NOT take this fan-translation series as a reliable source. I spent months writing a transcript of the real novel precisely so that people willing to know what the original Japanese text says (including me) would be able to check it out and compare, regardless of what anyone else translating it will say. Even without speaking Japanese, you can copy-paste the Japanese sentences into a translator such as DeepL, and so you’ll be able to see which parts exactly are in the novel, and which parts I pulled out of my magic hat. The “9/10 accuracy, WhatTheHeckIsThis/10 readability” translation is going to take a LONG time to make, but it will also come eventually (though don’t expect much before at least something like 2024).
So now, with all that being said:
See you all tomorrow at 6PM (France time) for the first chapter of our reading journey!
Though if you have preferences for how you would rather see things (e.g. better time that fits the majority), then I am open to suggestions! I can easily rename a tag or reschedule my queue.
#eternal diva novel#so if we have Sycamore Sunday what should I call this other event#guess we might call it... uh... Eternal Monday?#holy shoot no that sounds so dreadful forget it#monograph monday? yeah no that's not good either#layton's book club#still nowhere near a good name but that's better than nothing#and since there's at least three other novels that are even longer we might as well make this a common tag#lutiasreplies
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okay well i was doing something else (liveblogging me watching guardian episode 23) and i started writing a post that "quoted" the show, then second-guessed my translation, and then spent literally two hours thinking about how to translate the preceding sentence. oops. this post is so long but also was SO fun.
ok so the full ... thing that zhao yunlan says is: 他这个人呀，个性太深沉. 喜欢哑巴吃黄连. 所以我只能等着了, 等到他苦到心头, 苦到他自己说出来为止. i'm only actually translating the first sentence, bc it took me like two hours and i need to go to bed. that first sentence is: 他这个人呀，个性太深沉. the 他 (he) in this sentence refers to shen wei.
uh. direct translation (literal translation? idk what this is called) would be something like: he, this person, personality too [adjective]. just to give some sense of structure, bc i have translation opinions about this later.
first off, this adjective. 沈沉 (shen1 chen2) means both "deep, profound" and "undemonstrative, reserved", according to pleco. i'm willing to bet that the line is meant to describe shen wei with both meanings. my best translation includes the word "fathom". "hard to fathom" or "fathomless" — i think that leans toward both the "depth" part and the lack of knowing/understanding, though describing someone as "fathomless" conveys the distance of "reserved" from the other direction: a distance to breach rather than a distance created. i'll accept this only because zhao yunlan, rather than shen wei, is the one speaking (well also becaue there is not another english word i know that can do this lol.) also, the bit i'm most thrilled about with this word choice: both characters (沈沉) in the original phrase have the water radical, and 沉 used as a verb means "to sink" (as an adjective it means "heavy"). historically (but modern-day in usa english only apparently), a fathom is a unit (equal to 6 feet) used to measure water depth, which pleasantly mirrors the deep water that the original phrase invokes to me.
and then the matter of preserving the cadence of the original line. lol. lmao, even. in my mind, part of what i'm valuing as a translator is giving an actor the same amount of time to work with when speaking. does this matter to other people? probably not. if this was written down i would probably value something else. but i'm the one writing the world's longest post about this, and bai yu said it, so.
initially i thought something like: "he's— he's too fathomless a person." the added dash because i couldn't think of another way to give the reader or actor the space of "这个人呀", which directly translated is like "this person" and here in the line i think is just a way to lend emphasis to "他" (he). but the dash could also force an actor into playing hesitation on the line when it's not originally present -- the way bai yu says this, it comes across meandering/pondering. (screams)
ok fast forwarding to after i chewed on this stick for way too long, bc it got late and i wasn't that structured about thinking about it anymore. it became a sort of "brute force it and then identify what i dislike about this translation and try to fix it." i'm going with: "he's such a fathomless person, that guy." (admittedly, this is without translating the other sentences of this bit that zhao yunlan is saying. in full context / going into the next sentence i might tweak it later.) analysis (justification? lol) follows:
the addition of "that guy" emphasizes the "he" of the first phrase and lengthens the whole line without making it more formal (more difficult than i expected!) in a way that mirrors the "这个人呀" of the original line. this is the "giving an actor enough words to work with" thing. just "he's such a fathomless person" is much more direct than the original line. but with this translation, there is an added distance between the speaker and the object of the sentence. in the original line, zhao yunlan says "这个人", meaning literally "this person", but in the sentence i feel like it's being used as more like, "this example" ("he", shen wei). either way, to me there's a nearbyness/presence conveyed. but it didn't feel right to maintain the use of "this" when shen wei isn't in the room (actually i have no idea if he is even in the building), and also in english when speaking generally about a person, i feel like it's more ... fluid(??) to say "that guy" than "this guy" (though truthfully writing this post has made me doubt my grasp of english about seven times so i'm really not so sure anymore). anyway, the point is, i compromised with "that guy".
we also lose the directness of zhao yunlan commenting specifically on shen wei's character/personality, since the original line is phrased as, "his personality/character is too [adjective]", but i'm satisfied with how much of that idea is retained with this translation. i also don't want to prioritize including the word "personality" over mirroring the cadence of the translation (when this would also cost us the secondary meaning of "character"). and, when including an extra word to capture this meaning (ie, the word "personality"), i couldn't figure out a way to juggle both the "too/overmuch" meaning of 太 and the natural-sounding two-part structure to the original line. "his personality is too/so fathomless" / "he's too fathomless a person" both don't sound quite right to me, but "he's too hard to fathom" emphasizes this idea of difficulty/prior attempt that both isn't present in the original line and doesn't really feel in character for zhao yunlan at this point. by now shen wei has already described zhao yunlan as the one person who has attempted to/partially succeeded in understanding him.
i wanted a third pros/cons paragraph bc two felt like too few but i think that was already my entire rant about "fathom" above. the third pro is: this translation achieved ... basic translation, lol. it conveys roughly the same meaning as the spoken lines and as far as i can tell (not far) is roughly the same level of casual/formal-ness. it doesn't include any additional metaphors or similes not present in the original.
ok that's all lol. goodnight ✌️
#nobody be mean to me please i'm so so new to this#is this readable to someone who doesnt read chinese???#i wasnt sure where to include pinyin like does it matter to you in this case at all#also sorry i couldnt remember how to quote in chinese? i feel like it looks like L but i couldnt ... find on my keyboard?#so gave up and used quotes#guardian#hidey watches guardian#translation tag#hidey speaks#oh its actually been three hours now. good lord#hidey translates#hidey translates guardian
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“What’s so Special About the Moon?”
Jamil Viper x Mac
Ch. 1 – Ch. 2 – (Ch. 3) – Ch. 4 – Next – Previous
I never thought I’d finish this chapter…. LIKE HOLY SHIT I HATED OPENING MY NOTEBOOK BUT THE TIME HAS COME Y’ALL!!! I was planning on posting this before Valentines Day, but I got kinda busy and then almost a whole month passed lol! I’m also convinced I no longer know how to write two characters interacting with each other properly… Maybe the break was needed? No song in this one, but there’s so Mac lore and somewhat talking about feelings! The next (and final) chapter of this will be like a romanticized epilogue. Since I’m not sure how much I want to actually write and plan out for this oc, specifically regarding timeline stuff, it’s not gonna be considered “canon” [p.s. The most beta this gets is a quick read through of a 2nd draft after I finish typing it up so there may be mistakes or sentences that don’t make total sense]
The cream stone walls, lined with gold and crimson ceramics, provided an open, airy atmosphere to the Scarabia’s main Kitchen. Gentle breezes shifted Jamil’s long, dark hair while his busy hands expertly prepared baked pakoras. Their delightful deep-fried scent filled the air, making Mac’s already dry mouth water. Another beat or two of awkward silence oppressed the two as the Ramshackle Housewarden lightly sipped at the nearly empty glass of pink lemonade (including a few tiny chunks of dragonfruit).
“If you would like a second glass, there’s plenty left in the pitcher; second fridge to the right, middle shelf. I’d offer to pour but I must make sure these don’t burn.” Jamil finally broke the silence with more than the single-worded responses Mac was using. Xey supposed they couldn’t run away, least they be called out for being a hypocrite.
“No worries, I mean, I wasn’t really expecting you to serve me hand and foot,” they attempted to joke as a way to ease back into conversation.
“Scalding Sand hospitality would say otherwise,” Jamil easily shot back with a hint of mirth in his tone.
“Well,” Mac dragged out in a tired sigh, “I’m not royalty or a wealthy merchant. Besides, I’m not exactly fluent in any desert customs, Twisted Wonderland or otherwise… Kinda the opposite in fact! So, really, it’s no problem between us. I mean! You don’t need to feel like you have to go through any extra effort or ceremony for my sake.” Their hesitant eyes flicked fervently between filling the lemonade and the calm, sturdy back of the Vice Warden. A panicked symphony of little anxieties added an extra depth to xeir already drooping eyes.
Jamil remained calm. So fucking calm and put together that the Ramshackle Perfect could feel xeir anxiety almost turn to frustration. Almost. That deep well of guilt and shame kept them ‘grounded’ while waiting to hear some type of response.
“No need to concern yourself so much, it’s more force of habit than anything else.”
Mac huffed hardheartedly, “Trust me. I’d rather kill myself than even consider being a bother.” It was meant to be a more lighthearted joke but from Jamil’s reaction, he wasn’t used to such crude self-deprecation. A wide-eyed panic flooded his own eyes quickly as if mentally preparing to start damage control.
“Relax,” Mac continued with a snort, “nihilism is like breathing where I’m from.” A domino effect went through xeir body following their wave of flippancy. A harmless eye-roll, followed by a slightly less strained side-smile, the finishing with a light shrug into a slouch. “Besides, you can only have so many near-death experiences before beginning to think about death with casual indifference. You should try it sometimes… might loosen you up a bit!”
“It seems I’ve gotten too used to Kalim’s more literal style of speech.” the Vice replied through lightly gritted teeth; completely omitting any comment about how he did almost die during his overblot. The forced politeness remained and insisted on the reconstruction of his peripheral walls. It was really starting to piss Mac off. Good thing ze were a nosy bitch!
Fiddling in their lap, they sent a quick message to the ‘Ramshackle Freshies’ group chat letting them know not to wait up. Ze suddenly had a new, and challenging, job to do.
“… Considering how well you two got along I thought you shared that similarity,” the second year whispered under his breath, likely meant just to himself. Seriously, Mac thought, was he really meant to be sneaky? How’d he ever get away with it in the past?
“I was a lot like Kalim when I was younger,” xey replied just to watch Jamil startle out of his thoughtful pout. “Yeah, back when I was 15 before… a lotta things happened. It’s why I can, well, I think I can understand your whole dynamic.” They started rambling again and sporadically moving their arms. It was too easy for him to overshare nonsense that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.
At least xeir slip of the tongue caught the desert snake’s attention. These two working-class students were both so emotionally huddled up in on themselves, manning their defenses, to properly have a conversation. Both desperately trying to claim secrets and information from the other. (The elder trying to understand and provide comfort while the younger planning to gain back some trust, solve their puzzling nature and…. A little of something else).
Becoming so lost in their own thoughts that the clinking ice cubes in xeir drink began to melt. The only other sounds were of the occasional Scarabia students shuffling path the doors, unwilling to enter the dorm kitchen. It was well-known that the kitchens were Jamil’s domain and kingdom. Add-on the weirdly tense vibes emitting from the two beyond the door. Yeah, this wasn’t the ‘Dorm for Mindfulness’ for nothing. No one would be stepping a foot inside until the other two were long gone.
Looks like it was cafeteria of food from the Lounge this weekend.
By this time, the deep-fried delight was finished and barely cooled down before being devoured. Continuous awkward silence would give the poor magicless Perfect indigestion at this point. I guess I’ll bite first, xey thought, making up his mind.
“This…,” a deep, yet hollow sigh, “isn’t gonna work.”
“What won’t work?” Jamil cautiously prompted, taking his time to search Mac’s body language.
“If we can’t chill out and come to some kind of understanding, everyone will be bugging us for weeks. Or worse… they’ll come up with some stupid, half-baked plan to force us to work it out.” They both felt a disturbing shiver imagining their resident idiot(s) locking them in a closet, or something equally cliche. Not that Mac hadn’t tried the same exact thing before realizing set-ups only work in movies and shojou anime. That would be ridiculous.
“And what do you suggest?” He replied after thinking it over for a moment.
“Twenty questions.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.” zeir shit-eating, mischievous, obnoxiously lighthearted grin was practically audible at this point.
“You think some adolescent party game to learn each other’s favorite color will smooth over our interactions enough to fool Vil or Rook?” was the apathetic, snarky argument the Vice Warden shot back.
Mac released a playful gasp as xey jumped to reply, “How DARE you mock the sacred ritual of 20 questions. Or how much a favorite color can provide a little insight. I would know, I passed my Intro to Psychology class in High School.” Their easy wink was all the transition needed to put the testy air behind them. Besides, there might’ve actually been a small bit of truth in xeir joking attitude.
“You’ve tested it?”
“Online dating was a complete bitch and a half. Any ‘simple question game’ keeps the conversation going and vets out creepy weirdos.”
“But I already know how strange you are,” Jamil scoffed out the quip like second nature.
“Sorry, Babydoll, but you have no idea how much of a Freak I am.” Mac shot back with a laugh at the embarrassed look ascending Jamil’s neck and over his face. He seemed to tense on instinct, but decided to push through while he could still look his older underclassman in the eyes.
“Did these type of lines actually work for you?” He asked, standing up to try to brush of his initial reaction and to get started on their dirtied dished.
“If that’s your first question, then yes! I’m pretty good at adjusting to all sorts of personality types, which is great for a hook-up but doesn’t last long when it comes to serious relationships.” Xey answered somewhat matter-of-factually but still tasted of insecurity. Mac wasn’t ashamed, per say, of the occasional good time, but was borderline unhealthy with their distraction of choice.
With that the young servant raised a judgmental eyebrow that arched with a misplaced possessive jealousy, before becoming slightly thoughtful. Jamil had gone through extensive training in order to gain (and retain) a similar skill, he supposed. Not that it was anything he’d revel to the Perfect sitting across from him. Nor did he have to explain or like the venomous feelings he was actively shoving down the back of his throat. Just another poison to keep from spilling over, he thought trying to ignore the blatant irony of the whole situation.
“How about you?” Never mind!
Mac motioned xeir hand out expectantly. Behind his smudged glasses were gentle, pleading puppy dog eyes meaning to encourage Jamil only made him curl in on himself all the more.
“Is that you’re question? Seems hardly fair to just project the same question back,” He responded in a jilted, caved-off taunt. “Shouldn’t you have enough braincells to think of your own questions… instead of making me do all the work.”
Instead of backing off—or acting offended or snapping back with an equally sarcastic response—they simply laughed. Just… laughed. It wasn’t a patronizing huff like his own or a naive giggle like whenever Jamil said something that went over Kalim’s head. Xey laughed with a heavy nostalgia and in relief of finding the groove of conversation once again.
“Sorry, sorry! The version my… friends, I think, played we’d always have to answer whatever we asked. Prevents anyone getting ganged up on or an imbalanced type of questions.” Xe replied with ease.
Jamil answered dryly in response, “I spent the majority of my life following in Kalim’s shadow; we did grow up together after all. When I wasn’t by his side I either had work, chores or school. This didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for deeper friendships, let alone dating.” Surprisingly, the majority of what he said was the true.
It wasn’t the whole truth, but true nonetheless. Equal measurements of shame and embarrassment for being a servant always made the young Viper hesitant to pursue any real relationships while in middle school. Casual friends were one thing, superficial and somewhat difficult to maintain, but achievable. Dating, however, would take his focus away from his duties to Kalim (and possibly endanger the heir)
While Jamil’s thoughts were grim and filled with resentment, the other student hummed in consideration. How the two connected to people; how they both learned how and when to respond to the people they’re forced to be around felt oddly similar. Not the same, not by a long shot, but definitely similar.
“Well isn’t that just completely depressing,” Mac started to say under her breath before quickly transitioning to their own question: “Okay, well, how ‘bout your favorite type of music?” The answer they received back was a ‘cut-the-bullshit’ type of frown. Clearly, he didn’t consider it an equal exchange.
“Okay! Fine! What was your dream job as a child?”
This time Jamil couldn’t control his reactions so seamlessly. The Vice Warden’s eyes bulged as the startled intake of breath entered his body. His entire body took on a different type of hardheadedness to guard compensate his apparent embarrassment. He’s been feeling embarrassed a lot lately.
“Oh c’mon~ Every kid had a silly dream job! I probably went through a dozen, at least. So just spill already.” Ze said, trying to urge him to uncoil the tension from his jaw.
“It doesn’t matter! I knew I was destined to remain a servant my whole life, there was no reason to bother making silly plans.” Jamil hurriedly snapped in a desperate attempt to change the subject.
“Doesn’t mean some 5-year-old Jamil didn’t want to be a firefighter at some point.” Mac countered.
“I never dreamed of being something so foolish and mundane as a firefighter…” Jamil said, raising a defiant eyebrow.
“But you dreamt to be something or the other! C’mon, Viper, throw me a bone here wouldja?”
The two stared the other down, prepared to go back and forth. Clean-up had already been finished by the end of the first question and now Jamil brought out two, small fruit plates. It was a nonverbal offering to keep the conversation going despite his own dodgy replies. How was it possible that relatively harmless banter could be pulled from a subject as touchy as his lack of childhood?
Mac’s ease and understanding, even with their awkward or overbearing, of conversation had charmed the Viper’s unsettled and distrusting nature. If xey weren’t painfully honest (and particularly bad at keeping secrets for long), Jamil would have been worried she was a spy. Whatever I tell them—Kalim’s probably already told his club members, so there’s little harm to be done, he thought begrudgingly.
“A dancer,” his soft whisper blew past the lightly dripping faucet and over the desert’s dunes. In the heart of his answer—an unexpected level of raw honesty—cascaded over the billowing heat in a brutal, stubborn calm.
Mac wasn’t surprised, but he smiled at the second year anyway. That soft look, a fresh morning dew covering the forest floor in the late spring, both cooled and energized the flustered boy. It was an expression he wasn’t often familiar with; such genuine patience and pride over 3 short syllabus was uncalled for when it came to a servant like him. Such an insignificant moment held so much weight when they looked at him like that. A sight and experience that a much younger Jamil would’ve thought impossible to even dream of.
“I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a ballerina, for a time.” A hushed excitement at their shared interest.
“Really?” He’d seen them dance and… never got that impression before.
“Yeah, for like a week. Then it was a police officer, before I found out how much running around I would have to do. After that it was an engineer; who knew there was so much math involved? For a little bit I was dedicated to become the President.” Xeir answers tumbled out easily with plenty of humor behind each one.
“… President of what?” Jamil asked in confusion.
“Of the country! There’s not a whole lotta royal families back on Earth, but anyway, Politics is messy and absolutely soul-crushing. I would probably have twenty breakdowns a month even attempting to jump into THAT cesspool!”
“Ah…” Jamil mentally noted the casual explanation over the bewildering differences between Mac’s world and his own. It wasn’t the easiest to wrap his head around a country with no king, queen, or Sultan.
“Right?! Felt like I wanted to try a little bit of everything, but I always came back to performing on a stage…” For a moment there was a wistful look in their eye before quickly being pushed away.
“… In what way? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Oh, anyway I can. A pianist, an actress, a singer; all I wanted to do since I could remember was to entertain a crowd of people on a stage while I felt those warming lights beaming down on me.” The wistful expression was back with a small tug of a smile.
“Why tell me all of this in the first place?” Jamil knew he had already asked multiple questions at this point, but he had to know. He had to know everything that made up the strange magicless student across from him even more than he wanted to conceal himself. There was just an insatiable need to be their confidant, an archive of Mac Trivia, to just be anything xey let him be. It was strange and powerful and scared him almost as much as they intrigued him. It was an emotional tight-rope he never expected to need to walk, even now, as he studied his companion’s reaction.
“Because even if I do forget it all again, maybe I won’t have to loose myself entirely. Maybe then at least a part of my story will live on and be remembered. Why would people tell stories or gossip or do anything at all, if not for it to be at least remembered by someone?”
They both took a quiet moment to contemplate the sudden serious tone. It wasn’t the fighting or finger-pointing from earlier, but the air felt different from before. Like the next topic, which was Jamil’s to choose, would make or break the tension that was floating around all day between the two of them.
But what in the Twisted Wonderland was he supposed to ask zer after all that?!
There were so many things that still remained a mystery when it came to who Mac was or where they were from (or even why they were sent here in the first place). An uncountable amount of possible questions sped through the 2nd year’s head, trying desperately to pick the right one.
But this—this moment—was an opening to move forward from any awkwardness. Moving past the caring, nosy nuisance to a bond made of understanding. And if Jamil was honest, something he rarely was but making an effort today, than there was really only one specific he needed to know in the moment:
“The sun or the moon?”
“Huh?”
He had blurted it out less like a question and more as an overall demand. An unconscious hiss slipping from between his twisted lips and tempting tongue. Truly, an oversight considering how much the Scarabia resident was overthinking his options… he somehow lost control of his words.
“Sorry! Um… I meant to say, are you a day or night person? Basically do you prefer the Sun or the moon?” Jamil internally cursed himself as he back-pedaled. The earlier courage lost and desperately hoping to skirt passed awkward tension that might follow.
“Bullshit.” Oh for Seven’s Sake!
Mac slowly let xeir eyes glide over each of Jamil’s facial features. Thinking. Analyzing. Committing to memory the very real, very vulnerable intensity the original question had posed.
“The Sun and Moon are considered two halves of a whole, even if they aren’t necessary opposites; why should they be compared in the first place? Why put two celestial bodies against each other? Figuratively or metaphorically.”
Suddenly, the non-native Twistian held the same intensity as Jamil’s initial slip had if not more. It was the stubborn authority he felt in the laundry room—the same focus and need to understand. To be understood. To struggle with the truth while desperately, insistently, needing it to be said.
It scared him. More than hostage situations or poison testing, Mac scared and impressed Jamil more than he could describe. The fact that they were saying exactly what he needed to hear since he was 6-year-old.
“What’s so special about the moon? The sun will always outshine the moon—it can’t even make it’s own light. Then forced into the shadows without the Sun’s light.” He stated in response, trying to opposing his shaken heartbeat, but his tone sounded recited. It was a line he’d told himself time and time again as a mantra from his parents.
“I don’t think so,” the Ramshackle Perfect answered as simply as breathing, “because the moon is beautiful and mysterious and needed. It can do things even the sun cannot. Yes, the sun is beautiful and lovely and celebrated—but I don’t think you understand just how important the Moon is!”
Jamil responded in the last possible way either students expected him to: laughing his ass off. It was hand to describe any undertones of his laughter, but it wasn’t cruel or crazed like when he overblotted. A familiar bite of bitterness lingered in the air while the body of his laughter rang with astonished sincerity.
This was not the same Vice Warden that had tried to scheme against his childhood friend for a small taste of freedom. It wasn’t the snippy, exasperated retainer simply building back his reputation. Nor was it the frustrated, closed off second year that had been yelling all bout how the Perfect didn’t understand him.
He finally felt a little more free, placated and relieved, now that he’s taken a moment to grow. To learn. To feel and be validated in being his own person. Allowed to be better and show it to someone; show himself, at least partially, to Mac.
------
I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far!! This is one of the longest fiction works I think I’ve committed to! I’m between two different songs to round this story out (Blue Moon by Billie Holiday or Here Comes The Sun by George Harrison) but I have an ongoing playlist of songs that remind me of Jamil. Some of them are jokes or ironic, some a little bit more spiteful, and others that really embody aspects of his character… at least to me lol! Feel free to add random songs that make you think of Jamil and if it’s not already in the monster of a thing.
#WSSATM#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twst#disney twisted wonderland#jamil viper#writing#Mac (oc insert)#twst oc Mac#twst oc (Mac)#WSSATM ch. 3#Jamil Viper x Mac#jamil viper x mc#twisted wonderland fanfiction#Aims Writing Library#Aim's Writing Library
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🥺🤡✨ :D
Thank you for the ask! :D
🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?
Nie bros. It's always the Nie bros. Whether it be showing how much they care about each other when they're alive, or NHS's feelings about his brother after his death, they always pull my heartstrings.
🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?
I am NEVER going to be funnier than I was in "Wrong Shell, Wrong Time" - that's the murder tortoise fic where JGS died and NMJ is trying to get answers out of Meng Yao, Nie Huaisang, and Jin Zixun.
“Are you really telling me you helped kill your uncle so that you can have control of the gardening?!”
“I would do no such thing!” This huff seemed less genuine to Mingjue and was followed by an obnoxious lifting of the chin. “And gardening is a noble profession.”
“Really, Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang interrupted. “You shouldn't insult another man's hobbies.”
“The gardens were atrocious,” Meng Yao added with a shake of his head.
✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉
I don't know if other people read it the same way, but when I write and read my writing, I feel a rhythm to it, to the wording and the sentences - it's why sometimes I'll add in a word or two, because without it, the rhythm feels 'off'. And this is something I really like about it, because even though I'm writing prose, the rhythm has a poetic feel.
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So you want to write a bilingual character
Because people found this post on Hispanism on OFMD useful for fic writing, I thought I could delve a bit into writing bilingualism. I want to keep this brief, lest I get too much into linguistics, so I’m doing it as a Q/A.
Do I need to speak the other language to write a bilingual character?
Certainly not. Google translate can do the job. But you need to understand how languages work so you can avoid stupid literal translations. To be safe, it’s better that you stick to single words, simple sentences and avoid figurative speech.
Figurative speech. What’s that?
Any expression in which you are using an image. For example, when I say “I head to work” How will “head” be translated? Will I get a “going to” or will I get a literal floating head that I throw to the job?
If you are using popular languages (English, Spanish, probably French) automatic translators will detect figurative speech and correct as necessary. I recommend Google because it learns with time and use and it’s pretty accurate, but with less popular languages the translation is chunkier.
Do I write their accent?
I would say no. You can, but it makes reading those lines harder. Especially if your readers are not native speakers. They will have to sound the words to figure out what they are supposed to mean.
Consider: “Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my Eenglish, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly.”
Here, foreign readers have to add the missing –h and realize that ze=the. Not impossible, but it can be frustrating.
You can have an accent! but it’s not the only way to show someone is a foreign speaker. So, think if it’s worth the strain for your readers. If some of your readers will have to read that line twice, give them something for their trouble. Is there a word in particular the characters always get wrong? Is there any confusion between two words? Do other characters also find it difficult to understand?
Fine, no accents. So can they spout some words in their language?
Eeeeeeh… it depends. Usually bilinguals are very adept at keeping languages apart, but not always. Say hello to our friend “code switching” which is what happens when we change from one language to another. The Wikipedia page tells a lot about it, but for now you only need to know there are four types:
Outside the sentence: “Santa madre de Dios, dame paciencia,” said Jim. “Listen, guys, you all know me…”
Inside the sentence: “It’s all that bastardito’s fault”
In the tag: “If you don’t do as I say, I will throw you overboard, ¿Vale?”
In the word: This is harder to explain, but one word takes morphemes from the other language. Like taking Italian “ravioli” and adding and –s for plural, “raviolis” when the original was already in plural.
The key is not so much which word they are saying in a different language, but where they are saying it. Outside or in the tag are more common, especially for emphasis. Inside the sentence when there is a slight difference in the translation (ie: frijol and bean are not the same thing) or it’s not something used everyday (like the pieces of a car engine).
But what words will they not know?
The middle ones. No one is forgetting the common, easy, ones. (Yes, no, up, down, later, come, stop…) They may use them in their own language if they are part of the tag or in informal conversation, but no one is going to struggle for three sentences to remember how to say “yes”.
Also, not the rare ones either (susurrus, prosaic, erudite…) because those words tend to a) be similar across languages of the same family (and if we have a Romance speaker with English, they will be common words to them) b) be deliberately taught. It depends on when and how your character learned the second language, but it is not rare that second-language speakers use high words with low grammar.
So it will be the middle ones, not super easy but not difficult. Words they know, but temporarily forget, or words they simply haven’t come across yet like a cooking implement, a machine, a very specific action, etc.
I am not comfortable writing anything in that other language. What do?
Then your bilingual character will have to do some negotiation and circumlocution This happens when the speakers knows they lack the word, but rather than bringing one from their first language, they explain what they mean. For example:
“He was a gentleman for sure, capt’n. He had nice hair and a white hanky showing out of his sleeves.”
“Oh? Did he have lace cuffs?”
Can I see an example of everything?
Here, just because I like this exchange.
“Can’t you shield yourself with a potion of pearl and-? What’s the word, you put it in water, connard, comment dit-on? Savon. That’s sapon, sapot, sopon. Arrg, ça me soule!”
“Soap” said Draco.
Here we have Fleur 1) negotiating (you put it in water) 2) talking in French to herself, not to her audience, and 3) trying out different versions while immediately knowing those aren’t it. She knows the word! But she can get it. It happens.
Anything else?
Yes. Interferences or language transfers. This is when we get some unexpected foreign language in our own! This requires at least some familiarity with the other language because transfers mimic one language while using the second one. For example, the expression in English “no can do” (what a weird way to express a negative, isn’t it?) is mimicking Chinese grammar with English words as blocks!
Transfers manifest with words in a funny order, unexpected prepositions and such. For example, speakers of Romance languages always try to coordinate nouns and adjectives in English. “Blacks sails” rather than “black sails”.
I have more questions. Can I send you an ask?
I am not a linguistics professor, but sure.
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More creepypasta AU/general headcannons...ramble.. thing
WHAOO
Slenderman and eyeless jack live within the same woods, with slenderman having his oldass mansion (fight me, im adding the mansion to the au, but its not going to be nearly as extravagant and cozy as the fanon) and eyeless jack with his little cabin
Slenderman is the only real permanent resident of the manor; anyone who comes to live inside it are usually temporary. Be that because its them choosing to leave, or they are forced to leave and are no longer welcome. Though I think Slenderman would have a fair amount of leniency, given the fact that's he's seen it all. So save for a few people or behaviors, his door is open
Even Hoodie and Masky don't live with him, since they still have their own... autonomy..? To an extent they're still Brian and Tim, living fairly normal lives until the big man needs them to do his dirty work
The closest that lives with him is Kate; who's in proxy mode all of the time. Downside, she's not fully loyal to Slenderman. Actually she's not fully loyal to anyone, and she rarely ever enters the mansion. Rather, she's running off doing her own thing in the woods. Just a feral person, really. That's not to say she isn't dangerous or unintelligent, though. She may be aggressive and reclusive but she knows how to lure in people and set up traps
That's about it on Kate; I'm still building up what I want her character and role in the au to be, and honestly? I forgot who she was for a hot minute <\3
Ben doesn't have a physical body, most of the time. I'll elaborate more on that in a second.
Basically, he's more or less completely bound to electronics, and can only really interact with people through it. Good news is he can hop from device to device, though I'm still working out the limitations of that... usually hangs out in Jeff's old ass flip phone.
Yes it's specifically a flip phone, doesn't matter the brand. Reason is is because I think it'd be funny if Ben and Jeff got into an argument and Jeff just. Shuts it when Ben is mid sentence
Moving on, Ben and Jeffs whole thing is meant to work as an anti/opposite to the jane and laughing jill plot; two characters partnering up against one another for their own goals
Also I think Ben and Jeff have a cool friendship
Speaking of, friendships and shipping
Well relationships in general
Admittedly I don't have any romantic ships, so those are likely going to be few and far between in the au; but I do want to explore different dynamics and such if I ever make this into a proper story
So
Yeah!
I wanna put emphasis on Jeff/Ben and Jane/Jills friendships especially since so far they're the ones with the most plot relevance
I wanna explore Tim and Brian's relationship, and how it changes when Masky and Hoodie are in charge
I also wanna see what would happen if Kate joined the mix
Also I wanna explore Nina as a character, since my own take on her is also gonna be in this au, and how she interacts with others
Oh oh time line stuff!!
Takes place a few years in the future, so all the character's that aren't ghosts/undead/or are otherwise not a normal mortal, are older
So that includes characters like jeff, jane, nina, tim/masky, brian/hoodie, kate, ect ect ect
And to an extent, eyeless jack, though due to his curse he ages a little slower
So, they're all adults!
Jane, jeff, and nina are 23, 24, and 22 (respectively)
Tim and Brian are both in their early 30s, and Kate is roughly 27
Eyeless Jack physically is about 25, but mentally he's not much older
Main reason for the time skip is because I SUCK at writing kid/teen characters 😭😭 so unless someones a ghost kid or something, assume they're an adult
Uuuuuuh
I think thsts all i have for now !! So!!
Yeah!! Wahoo!!
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Happy STS Ren! Today I would like to ask about your editing process. You rewrite drafts for one thing, but what else do you do? What does usually change between drafts? Do you need distance to be able to see what needs to be changed? How do you evaluate the quality of your writing? Any editing tools/helps/rules that help you either to write or to edit later?
+ a writing update ^^
@writingonesdreams
Happy STS to you too, Dreams ^^
So, editing. It's not my favorite part but it's actually the most organized part of my entire chaotic process.
So, first, I have a confession to make - I do edit as I write. Sometimes line edits, if the typo/missing word/janky sentence are really, really bugging me. Mostly, though, it's me going back and making rough blocks of foreshadowing/events that needed to happen in earlier chapters to make my surprise plot twists make sense in later chapters.
The fact that I cannot do this part of my editing process with The Shackles of Time due to posting it as I'm going makes me very, very nervous as it is a key part of my writing. The problem with my chaotic style is not even I see some of the things that happen later on coming, therefor I could not foreshadow ahead of time. So, yeah. I reread Shackles of Time frequently to try to minimize this particular aspect of my writing/editing process. (I'm scared for when it gets long enough that I can't knock out a reread in a weekend. That's going to make future chapters a touch stressful XD)
When I finish a draft, I let it sit for a minimum of two weeks. Usually longer, but mostly because I'm juggling half a dozen projects all at different stages so things get dropped for a hot minute.
Sometimes I'll come back from letting it sit and do some minor to moderate edits, lines, some consistency tweaks, but no major overhauls of the plot. It honestly depends on how intensive the fixes to the story are needed if I do this or not. Usually this step happens when there's something about it that's bugging me that I can't quite pin down. If I do this extra step, I let it sit again for a minimum of 2 weeks.
Then I break out the physical notebook. Now, when I sit down with physical paper, that's it for the draft. No more edits, no more tweaks, it lives like that now. I read. Anything edits I need to make, particularly to character arcs, the plot, and other major overhauls get jotted down alone with things I really like about the draft that I want to keep.
Then I rewrite the entire draft using my notes and the previous drafts as a guide.
This process gets repeated over and over until I get a draft I want to keep. The requirements for a keeper draft is 1. No major overhauls needed, moderate and lower issues are easily dealt with without rewriting, plot holes have been resolved or can be resolved with a few added/deleted paragraphs, and the entire draft flows decently while I'm reading it.
Then I go through multiple editing passes to clean up the prose, add some detailing, scrap some filler words, and what have you until I'm happy with it.
That's not to say the finished product ends up flawless. I've reread chapter 1 of The Shackles of Time at least 6 times now and I still randomly find typos in it XD
~
As for your update, I finished up another celebration post. I just need to schedule it. I've been working on another one while doing other things today. Once I finish this one, I just have one left and then I'm done with the anniversary posts.
However, I have decided that I will be redoing The Shackles of Time's banner to celebrate it's second year. So all chapters scheduled after it's official birthday will have the new banner. I may decide to do a new banner every year as a sort of mini-celebration.
Other than that, I have nothing else to report. I've been making a mad dash to finish these up since October is just around the corner.
Thanks for stopping by, I hope you have a lovely day/evening.
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KNOWING YOUR PARTNER WELL CAN POTENTIALLY MAKE WRITING TOGETHER A LOT EASIER.
tagged by: @deciipula and @yourlocaltea Thank you for the tag!
tagging: all I talked with ic and ooc
❖ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: Lizzy (or anything around it you’d like to make)
❖ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: She/her
❖ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Tumblr is the main one; yet I am planning to start using discord.
❖ 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬: Nunnally Sakamaki. I have just added one more, but since I have not really rp with her yet, she will not be mentioned here.
❖ 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞/𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 (𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐬/𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬?): 10+ years, but less than a year on tumblr; experience really varied in forms of rp;
❖ 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: Getting to know all these wonderful muses and their muns. Having new friends. Learning that Nunnally is shippable. That was a surprise. Having Nunnally kidnapped. Twice. Having Nunnally bitten. Writing the threads, I really wanted, but never happened to before (yes, the arranged marriage!). Writing the threads, I did not even know I wanted to write and now I am surprised with myself that I did not want that. Making another muse and thinking I can do it. And of course, those “bests” to come!
❖ 𝐑𝐏 𝐏𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬/𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬: Assuming the other muse knows about Nunnally simply because the mun read her bio or even worse read the thread with another muse* // feeling offended because of in character writing // being offended Nunnally will not stop loving Karlheinz simply because one doesn’t like him, and the other muse told Nunnally he’s evil //
*Having said that, I am totally okay if your muse has the abilities to know more; then I am more than willing to give you details that are not included in her bio, but might be interesting for the plot. But please talk with me. I (try to) be friendly.
❖ 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭? All of the above, but it seems I mainly write angst. Fluff is usually with at least bits of angst for me. As for smut, I’d rather go for suggestive than heavy smut, but who know where and when I end up. But even for suggestive, I would like to have it reasonably included in the plot between our muses. I need chemistry and time (Nunnally is as she is), and then you also need both muns want to take it that way. So, it may happen or may not.
❖ 𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬? Both I guess, although I usually need some writing before plotting. Just to get something going between our muses before I started to get the ideas. It is a bit different when I interacted with the mun before (and long?). Then sometimes I see the new muse and I simply know where I want to go…but sometimes I am shy too approach if we do not talk ooc too often.
❖ 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬: I tend to write long (but do not really expect you to match my length as long as you do not give me just a sentence or two). I just need to have some stuff to build on. The more we write together, the easier it is to have short replies/rp between the threads. I like having tons of things opened and I am not time line bounded. Actually, would love to explore different things and outcomes even for the same plot.
❖ 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞? Not fixed I guess…depending on my work schedule. But I am usually around now.
❖ 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬? Not sure. Nunnally definitely has bits of me, but as a whole? I guess I cannot really assess…
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damn, I was hoping you'd admit that. so this was also you just throwing random words together in hopes they made sense? 🤔
I can't believe it either... HOWEVER, it was the first and last time you got a star when you were being a little brat about it. don't lose the star, it took me a while to find it kdhwka 🤐 phew, I'm glad you didn't even mention the name of the book or make other recommendations, I won't take note and bring some kind of update when I can see about it better. well, as long as we don't go back to talking about what we definitely weren't talking about, then I think things are totally fine. and I'm not going to say that this thing about not making literal sense, but the feelings being there is something even more impactful due to the fact that you can reach a level of understanding and even greater interpretation due to the fact that these feelings - despite being the focus - continues between the lines with synonyms and comparisons.
your torturous reminder is so funny sorry- picture after picture and she still by your side huh?
I'm curious to know what would have happened if I hadn't understood 😶
I like that you have cool opinions and throw them into your fics, not exactly just about that, but how you see the characters (Kate being the biggest example like you just said). It's exactly at this moment when I think you would be super in favor of Shrek's speech about people being like onions, full of layers. okay, your turn to share another thought about Kate even though you already do this when you write.
– 🌟
nope, you're not getting that out of me that easily. yup, that's how it works. especially that message since it was the first thing i wrote when i woke up lmao. [i did check my phone at 4am and read the messages but i fell back asleep before i could even think about replying so...do with that information what you will]
aw, i think you're a little soft on me 👀 i won't lose it, promise. can't risk you not wanting to give me another one later. i know, it's such a relief none of those things ever happened, imagine the chaos bringing it up would cause. and since we're not talking about it i definitely won't go read some more poems and bring them up to you, not at all. i'm so glad you didn't expand on my point about feelings being the focus because it's not like that's exactly what i try to do in all my fics because i think it's so much more impactful. i also won't admit i can't come up with anything to add because i love the way you didn't phrase that sentence. and i won't admit reading dickinson is what made me try to go above and beyond with simple yet impactful imagery.
excuse you, it's not funny, it's in fact very torturous. especially when it's an old picture of her and my heart stops for a second or two until i remember i'm supposed to be mad at her.
probably nothing except me being sad about it, tbh. unfortunately, now there'll be nothing to stop me from bringing emily dickinson up even more.
i wouldn't say my opinions are cool, i just think about them a lot because that's the way i am. i think adding those little thoughts/opinions is what makes writing fun and what can make a fic stand out because imagine how boring it would be if kate was just a one-dimensional being who just went along with the plot. it would be awful. and yes, you're right, i'm a sucker for that comparison lmao. [but only in spanish because Shrek is funnier in spanish, argue with the wall] i have so many thoughts all of the time but right now all i can think about is how alone she truly is and how that impacts how loyal and devoted she is to the people around her. like, we know she's traumatized af because of her dad's death, she's severely attached to her mom despite how damaging that relationship can be, and she hella admires clint from afar until the events of hawkeye. we never hear anything about her having other family members or friends or anything at all. i know a lot of people headcanon kate as being popular or a jock and stuff but like...idk, sometimes i can't see it. i don't know where i was going with this but those are my shuffled cards, now it's your turn to complete the deck.
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For anyone whose been following the ML (incorrectly called "AI") art/writing/code generation space, this is an article I read with some good discussion and a few gem comments scattered through the thread. The two things that stood out for me the most:
This link (click PDF under "Download" in right hand menu to read the paper) examining how ML art generators do, in fact, directly plagiarize artwork: https://arxiv.org/abs/2212.03860
And these comments from "Longmile149" (page 6 of comment thread) which highlight the contrast between Silicon Valley techbro "move fast, break things" aloofness and real people who don't dedicate their lives to tech fetishism:
Post #1 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I worked in a school for a year post-pandemic doing IT support as they rolled out 1:1 devices for the kids. Not a lot of professional cred, I'll admit, but actual first-hand experience nonetheless.
What I saw was a school that bought the sizzle but got a chewed-up plastic hamburger. The super cool ultra-high-tech hyper-personalized education software OF THE FUTURE made everything worse.
Teachers couldn't teach if the network went down or if a license wasn't renewed or a vendor updated their app and broke the damn thing for a day in the process. With all the activities being splooged out of some SV assembly line somewhere, and all the student records being stored safely on the cloud, any disruption was essentially a death sentence for the day's learning...which was made even worse in the classes where they had students all at different points in a lesson, because even if the teachers did still have materials to work from, their students were all over the map and it wasn't possible to do anything coherent.
Administrators routinely hammering that teachers must use the tools regardless of educational outcomes because the school had paid for the license to a software package and if they wanted to keep App A they also had to show they were using Apps B and C to maintain the funding. Added bonus, teachers who focused on teaching the material instead of teaching the software got hit on their end of year reviews. Added added bonus, teachers also got dinged on parent reviews because the educational software that they don't control didn't work and was confusing.
Hey, you know how older people and people who aren't technophiles aren't great with new technology, especially stuff like license-based SAS kinda products that change constantly? Guess how good most of the teachers in the building were at figuring out wtf was going on and adapting or even calling the right person when their SSO broke? Also super fun trying to help teachers understand the difference between whitelisting and blacklisting websites and how to tell when their screen monitoring software had failed to release the previous students so that another teacher could work with that class and what to do about it.
Know what a chatbot is absolute garbage at doing? Understanding. Anything. At all. That's not what they do or how they work. The chatbots can't tell if a kid knows the subject, it can only tell if the kid knows how to use the app the subject is being presented on. When we did finals, most of the kids in K-5 absolutely bombed the first time through because the testing software was different from the learning software and they were being asked to interact with the material in a fundamentally different way than what they'd been taught for the whole year.
You wanna see kids break down and cry? Watch them sob uncontrollably because they thought they did everything right but then their entire test gets wiped out by a laptop battery dying. Watch them freak all the way out when their test software flags them for cheating and locks them out and their teacher can't help them unlock it.
I could go on and on about how utterly fucked the whole thing was, but the point here is that educational software as a tool for educators to work with is fine (to a point), but the reality is that schools are going to push more and more into using educational software as a pillar for educations to be built on, and that's really bad.
I wish I had any reason to believe that slapdash, ever-changing, top-down software dressed up with a chatbot on the front end (or whatever other trendy nonsense is hot in SV at the time) was gonna be good for kids, but I just don't...and that's about the only kind that exists. The digital divide is real and it's not just about access to shiny new laptops. There is a massive gap between the technical skills most people actually have and the technical skills the tech bros think everyone should have, and "do more computers harder" is gonna make that way, way, way worse, not better.
Post #2 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------
We’re comparing anecdata, so there’s no real right or wrong here.
I feel you on the virtual and the self-pacing. My 7th grader is doing virtual school through our local district. It’s great in some ways, trash in others. He can rocket ahead…when the software is working. His teacher is legit and she’s very responsive and he can go in for face-to-face help if he needs it. It only works because I know enough to keep things working. I can troubleshoot, my wife and I can point him to other resources, we have other computers and reliable internet. We’re on the relatively privileged side of the digital divide. We are absolutely the exception.
I work at a library now. One of my main jobs is helping people bridge that divide. People in their 20s who don’t know how to find the pdf they downloaded on their phone so they can print it. Kids who don’t understand why their school email on their Chromebook won’t let them send a document to the library for us to print. Parents who can’t figure out how to reconnect their phone to their email account. Immigrants who use Facebook Messenger to talk to family overseas who want to call someone at Facebook on the phone to beg for help because their account is locked and they don’t know how to fix it. Retirees who finally got comfortable with using their phone and then some asshole software guys decided to rearrange the UI and redecorate in an update and now they’re lost and giving up because it’s too much to keep relearning over and over.
I’m glad that the tools exist, man, but I suspect it’s a fantasy to think that my experience was abnormal. A couple decades working in factory automation and a few years in school/library/public service IT work make me think it’s way, way more likely that most places are going to be badly rolled out.
How can they not be? The culture of the tech industry fetishizes change for change’s sake. The vast majority of society can’t actually adapt to that fast enough to keep up. It’s why everything is a kludge.
I dunno. I think there are gems to be mined from the stuff being developed for schools. There’s real need for reform and there are tech solutions that could be powerful tools if we actually slow down and regulate and standardize them and teach and support the teachers who’ll need to use them, but that seems…optimistic.
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I've hit the perfect balance of sensory stuff but today that means writing, doodling, and listening to the same song on repeat all at once and it certainly isn't ordinary!
#not me going between writing like a sentence or two and then adding another line or two to the drawing#and so on and so forth#not productive necessarily but hey! two stones with one bird or whatever they say#hush now karma#not om#i wanna finish these last 2 requests in the inbox so i can open up for some more#but i also want to draw more moon and sun :c#dilemmas and issues and hubris
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Lust — Kaz Brekker
Gif by @kitsyoung
Request: “Hey. I really like your writing and I was wondering if you would consider writing a Kaz piece with the smut prompts 76, 1 & 33. Obviously with your au rules. If it’s too much I completely understand tho”
“7, 17, 36, and 73 from the smut list for Kaz Brekker please? If not, no worries! 💖 Thank you!”
“Holy shit that last kaz brekker smut- AMAZING. Was wondering if you could write another smut with smut prompt #6? Of course if this bothers you just ignore it. Thank you so much 🥰”
Smut prompts:
1. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”
6. “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”
7. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh.”
17. “after that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy”
33. “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”
36. "If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for the next week.“
73. “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”
76. “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”
Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader
Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, dirty thoughts, dirty talk, nsfw, jealous, mention of fight.
Word count: 5k
A/N: All smut requests for Kaz must follow these rules.
Thank you so much for the requests and for all affection 💖 I decided to compile these requests, since they were the same central plot. I added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down. I hope you like it and good reading.
English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.
Requests are open. Love you ❤️
— — — — —
There is a theory that always, somewhere, there will be a person capable of making you lose your breath, and your reasoning, whenever he appears on the scene. Someone who robs you of your breath, your heartbeat, your ability to think clearly and your control to keep your hands not shaking.
And Kaz Brekker would always be that person for you.
From the first time you laid eyes on him, it's been a feeling of dying and going to heaven. Except that Heaven was, in reality, a hot, burning hell. Where your greatest punishment was being forced to watch his tall figure, who exuded masculinity by every inch, walking in front of you like a Renaissance painting very superb.
Nothing that Van Gogh, Da Vinci, and Picasso created has bordered on the personification of beauty that he was.
Kaz was beautiful in a very mysterious, dangerous and chilling way. You would describe his aura as the height of midnight in an enigmatic city, his hair the color of the core of sin and his features as lines that the god Ares would have drawn. Everything about him reeked of the fog of suspense stories, with a touch of lust.
All the looks he directed at you were caustic, flickering and intense as a candle flame, reverberating through your veins like angry eels and always make the room feeling charged with electricity, like the ground after the fall of a lightning. Everything between the two of you seemed to be filled with something fiery and arcane. From the gazes, the rubbing of shoulders, the times when the skins touched. Everything was a compilation of sensations that make you catch your breath whenever Kaz Brekker appeared.
He was your kryptonite. In all senses.
And that was exasperating in the extreme, at staggering levels. You felt your center of your sex vibrate whenever he directed you that voice whit baritone intonation and predatory looks, whenever the button-down shirts were tight enough for you to revel in the contours of his body, or sometimes when he wore the cane to signal or stopper something. This was the worst of them. His cane.
Have you lost count of how many times Kaz stopped you as counting money, by putting the tip of the cane over your hands, or stopped you from going somewhere by blocking your path with the cane, lifting the object horizontally in front of your belly. And every time you felt your legs tremble, your breath fade and a very dirty part of your brain whisper that you wanted him to use that object in you in more fun ways.
Your body was so responsive that there were times when you knew, with every fiber of your soul, that Kaz was able to read the paths in which your thoughts wandered. He lowered his gaze to you, in that breathless connection that promised to contain the most nefarious paths of sin, and maliciously curved the left corner of his lips in an arrogant, oblique expression. At such times, you could feel in your soul the words he did not say:
I know the perverted things that you are thinking.
And the truth was, he really knew. Kaz memorized every change in your breathing, every blush on your cheeks, every trembling of your hands, every your trembling look whit a frightened girl who had been caught thinking of something impure. He knew how your body was responsive, needy. And he himself had to control himself not to push you over the desk in his office and fuck you like an aggressive animal, bringing all your perverted thoughts to life.
It wasn't his physical reactions that kept him from taking action, but an even more visseral reaction than the pulsing desire he felt for you. Mine. The primal, determined, burning sensation of possession. That it ran through his veins like hot, bubbling lava. The desire was familiar, but this statement, not. Like the jealousy he felt for you, he quickly recognized the danger he was in.
If Kaz touched you…he knew he would never be able to let you go.
Mine. A statement that resonated spontaneously whenever he saw you, a testament to the reactions the two of you triggered in each other. However, not even the awareness of the dangerous game that was between you was able to dispel the climate of provocative sensuality that pulsed in the places whenever the two of you were together.
It was like playing with a powerful drug. One slip and he would be addicted forever.
On days like this, when Kaz had just come out of an exasperating meeting with Peka, a businessman and mobster who was always looking for ways to try and bring Kaz down, his already bad temper turned to terrible. He felt compelled to break something, drink a whole bottle of the best English whiskey in that club, and punch someone. Kaz felt the anger pulse through his veins, in a pure and perfect way.
He left the office, turning off his cell phone so he wouldn't be disturbed and descending the stairs to the center of his Crow Club, mind buzzing and anger seeping in his blood. He needed to unwind, maybe get into the car and head home. Maybe actually drink that whiskey bottle. Maybe both.
Kaz was about to take another step down, running a gloved hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes, when his gaze met your figure. And that was when the already terrible temper rose to the very badly.
Normally, a vision like that would have just bothered him, a compulsion to do something. But that day, Kaz was at the height of his angriest feelings. And seeing you, bold as a goddess in that little black dress, next to Jesper at the gambling table and flirting with a guy to your left, did things with every last bit of patience and self-control he had.
His eyes never left you as he took another step, running his hand through his hair again to contain the unruly strands. You were laughing, downing another drink and placing a card on the table. You turn back to the man to your left, your eyelashes fluttered gracefully in a promise to allow him to guide your rein tonight.
But there would be no goddamn rein for that fucking guy to guide.
Kaz gripped his cane tightly, descending the other short stairs and advancing toward your with dangerous, determined, and angry steps.
"...in this part of the year, criminal law cases drop a lot." The damn guy was telling you, his boring blond hair falling over his blue eyes in a way Kaz found annoying.
To fucking hell with that blond-haired Dande.
“Y/n, Jesper!” Kaz tapped the end of his cane on the table, stopping the cards under the polished wooden end.
Everyone at the table looked at him startled, their actions frozen. He saw you swallow hard, a soft tremor sigh in your shoulders.
Good!
“Shouldn't you be at the door?” Kaz turned to Jesper, his eyes sparks with annoyance.
“Right now, Boss.” He stood up, giving you a strained smile and heading towards the door.
“Kaz…” You started, voice softly intoxicated.
You knew you weren't supposed to be at the gambling table, let alone so late at night and drunk, even if Jesper was by your side. You had the ability to win every play, in any game, and that ended up not only driving the others away, but leaving the men, already drunk and irrational, aggressive and with an extremely bruised ego. And they almost always wanted to retaliate physically. As much as there were security guards and cameras everywhere to keep something bad from happening, Kaz couldn't stand the thought of someone hurting you. Not even blinking insultingly in your direction.
He sent you an icy, sharp, steady look. A clear warning for you to stop there any excuse you were about to give. To be careful with the next words you would say. You swallowed hard, looking away and getting up from the table. Slightly wobbly from the drink, you fished your coat from the chair next to you, giving a strained, apologetic smile to the guy you'd been flirting with so far.
“I better go home and call an uber and…” You started, but Kaz cut your sentence.
“I'll driver you.”
His tone exuded annoyance and impatience, giving no opening to any objections, demonstrating that he was in no mood for games. Much less defiance of his orders. You knew him too well to recognize that that night had pulled his nerves beyond what he could handle, the strain and irritation in his eyes told you something had happened beyond what you knew. His jaw, straight and strong as glass, was clenched tightly, his night-colored hair was disheveled in an overwhelmingly attractive way, and his black robes sinfully marred every line of his body.
You should have become wary of the dangerous energy that he exuded through every pore at that moment. However, to your inebriated and excited brain, Kaz Brekker has never looked so fucking hot! Your underbelly vibrated in response to the personification of sin that Kaz was, your heart racing at alarming levels as you followed him out, walking over to his car.
Like every piece of Brekker's clothing, his car was sleek black, with big black wheels, tinted glass and dark leather seats. Hades' chariot. You felt your breath catch when Kaz opened the passenger door for you, his eyes avoiding yours, his jaw still clenched and dangerous energy exhaling through every fiber of his tall, lean body.
Holy Mother of God, this man was a perdition!
Kaz contained an instinctive desire to go back inside and tell that aspiring Dande that you weren't available. Instead, he closed the door when you got in and turned around in the car, closing his own and squeezing the steering wheel harder than he would have liked.
Midnight height light streamed in through the darkened car windows and gently illuminated the curve of your cheek, highlighting your skin that Kaz might have named the color of the gods. So much attention was too seductive. Emotions and reactions still bubbled through each his vein like scandant water, mingling with months of frustrated desires and burning sexual tension.
At that moment, jealousy laced him. Mine. Amazing and at the same time propelled by dangerous strength, Kaz tried to trap that feeling back into the dungeon of his soul. He controlled his fury, yet he couldn't completely tame. Annoyance turned to anger. Starting driving the car forward, Kaz tried to think of anything but how you looked like the Goddess Aphrodite on that dark bench. Splendid as a heat ray in a winter day.
“Kaz…” You started, that gentle, repentant tone that stirred every spark in his soul.
He hated how his name on your lips sounded so sensual, so right and so delicious. He would give everything he had to hear you moan his name.
“Don't start” he warned, now not because of latent annoyance, but because he didn't know if he could stop himself if he heard your voice.
However, you didn't make things any easier for him.
"You don't have to be so angry." You go "I wasn't even using all my intellect on the game, I wasn't trying to win."
Kaz didn't even know if that was the core of the problem anymore. Was he angry that you went to a table where it was dangerous? Yes. But the waters were much deeper than that, much more dangerous. The way your smile, sweet and sensual, was directed at that guy, reeled in Kaz's mind, impregnated with the plague. He felt the blood burn in his veins just remembering how melted you looked for that man. And as much as he couldn't blame you, because you were free and single, the primal, irrational part of him screamed so much louder now.
Mine.
“This does not matter anymore.” It was the only thing he managed to say, the very sensations drowning him.
“And it wasn't even that dangerous.” But unlike him, you were obliterating the burning emotions that Kaz exuded. “There were only a few players drunker than a door, and Jesper was on my side, and also James, who was very charming and...”
Kaz almost lost direction, making the car bounce smoothly. He staked his eyes at you, puzzled and bubbling.
“James?”
“Yeah, the blond guy who…”
"I don't want to know, Y/n." He cut you off "I don't want to hear about the guys you allow to drool around you like mangy dogs."
The distilled rage was impossible to contain, and before Kaz knew it, the words were out. He turned forward again, his hands tighter on the steering wheel.
“Wait…” Your tone was slightly smug, and the way you rubbed one thigh against the other was impossible for Kaz to miss.
The grip on the steering wheel tightened.
“You are jealous?” Your intonation dropped to a low, sensual, provocative level.
Suddenly, Kaz's entire body became very aware of your body inches away. He could feel the heat that you radiated and the lyrical, sweet and sinful scent of your perfume flooded all his senses. The air grew thin, puffy and stuffy, and if it had been December cold outside, Kaz would still feel the height of summer in that car. Flashes of excitement and danger rippled through the car, and the brief silence grew even more charged with sexual tension and lustful anticipation that stirred every fiber of Kaz's being.
He made the mistake of looking at you again, and your softly mischievous smile that promised a lifetime of satisfied desires only served to incite his madness. Kaz had never understood how a man could want a woman so badly that he acted irrationally and carelessly. But now he understood. And when he realized you tried to stifle a sensual sigh from the way he was looking at you, his body won the fight against his mind and Kaz stopped abruptly the car at the red traffic light.
The sexual tension between you had become unbearable. In one moment, Kaz was fighting the series of overwhelming and disturbing emotions that dominated his entire being, and in the next moment, he had taken your mouth with his in a fiery, fierce, animal kiss. Stealing all the air from both of you, his thoughts, and his sanity.
He held your face firmly in his hands, his fingers going down to the strands of hair at the nape of your neck, turning everything into something more caustic and desperate. Yours hands went to his arms, moving up to his shoulders and cupping the sides of his neck, pulling him closer. Kaz's tongue inched into your mouth without waiting for permission, conquering and claiming every fiber of your body, of your soul, in a continued of kisses you couldn't tell where one ended and another began.
The moan of satisfaction you let out gave him a lust and desire unlike anything Brekker had ever felt. Like hot, addictive honey down in his throat. He was still gripped by jealousy, annoyance and possessiveness. With the desire for you pulsing in his body just like his heartbeat.
Kaz pulled back millimetrically, his blue eyes overshadowed by the heat of the moment, his lips red and swollen from the sinful kisses he gave you. At that moment, Kaz Brekker looked like an angry young God, and you've never felt more attracted to someone in your life than you are now.
You looked at him, panting and needy, wishing with all your might that he repeat the same actions. And you knew he realized that. Perfectly. You saw the spark of male satisfaction ignite in his eyes as he absorbed your desire. He was so close... so very close, and you couldn't stand the enormous anxiety for a caress, a kiss, anything.
His cocky smile intensified as you put more pressure in your touch his skin, your fingers trailing down his neck and back to his shoulders, silently pleading for him to do something with you. Anything he wanted.
Kaz lowered his one gloved hand to your jaw, thumb and forefinger squeezing your chin and making you look at him directly, you staring into the deep, shrewd blue of his eyes. He pulled you closer by the grip on your chin, the husky, erotic words hitting your lips like a promise of sin as he said:
“Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to.”
It was impossible to control the loud, needy sigh that escaped, your center throbbing in despair and wetting the thin cloth of your panties. You wanted he to touch you more, pull your body against his until there was not a single sigh left, claim your soul and your body as his. You had parted your lips to say something, most likely a plea for him to continue, but the traffic light turned green and Kaz took his hands off you, straightening up on the bench and putting the car move.
In the absence of his warmth, his body, you felt cold, empty and frozen. As if Kaz were your sun and you were Icarus. Feeling the compulsion to need to get closer, complete its magnitude and bask in his rays. Every cell in your body begged for him, in needy and submissive requests, telling you to accept anything he told you, that he gave you, as long as it touched you.
“If I knew that to make you kiss me I would have to flirt with someone else, I would have done it a long time ago.” You teased, a satisfied, malicious smile on your lips.
Kaz looked at you in annoyance. In a clear warning that you should never more do that again.
"If you wanted me to kiss you like the brat you are, you just needed to have asked." He countered your game to the full.
"But if I want more than that?" But just as he knew how to play, so did you.
You swiped the tip of your tongue across your lips, kicking off your shoes and pulling your legs over the dashboard of the car, exposing your nearly bare thighs through the thin black fabric of your dress. Your actions instantly caught Kaz's eyes, and his grip on the steering wheel grew stronger and his breathing heavier.
The air inside the car became more ardent, burn, charged with eroticism and lust that left both of you breathless. An electrifying energy coursed through their bodies, as if they had been struck by a bolt of fire. You wanted him in a way you never thought you could want anyone.
Kaz took a deep breath, and looked at you with dangerous predator eyes as he said:
"If I have to pull over, you won't be able to walk for the next week."
The words made your body tremble. But if Kaz was trying to dissuade you, that was the last thing he should have told you. Instead of taming the fire inside you, it threw gasoline into the aggressive fire. You pressed your thighs together, your body sensitive to his words filled with burning promise.
In five minutes of insane courage, you took your feet off the dashboard, leaned toward Kaz, and brushed his neck with your lips. In slow, burning, hot kisses, you traced a path to the pulse in his neck, opening your lips slightly to brush your tongue over that pulse point.
“Please.” You beg.
Kaz's moan was low, but loud enough in your mind. You were being his undoing and you knew it. Suddenly, the car veered to the right and came to an abrupt stop. You would have lost your balance if Kaz's hands hadn't clung to your waist, pulling you in one movement to his left thigh, pressing your soaked core into the black fabric of his pants.
You gasped loudly, or he, or both. And in the next moment, his mouth was on yours again. The kiss was more aggressive, possessive, angry and ardent. Kaz kissed you as if he wanted to decree you his, proclaim his possession. You didn't see when he removed his gloves, but the touch of his skin with on your thighs was all you could think of.
“Kaz…” You moaned into his mouth, and the grip on your thighs moved up to your hip, digging his fingers into your thin dress-covered skin with such force it was sure to leave marks tomorrow. "Please."
You knew what you were begging for, but the moment Kaz forced your waist to move against his thigh, rubbing your pulsing core against his thigh, you forgot even your own name. And Kaz knew it. Then, like dominant man who wanted to see you surrendered to him that he was, his mouth went to your ear as he whispered:
"Do you want me to fuck you?" Kaz wiggled his thigh against you, making your clit roll against the soggy fabric of your panties.
You moaned loudly, your hands tightening on his shirt, your face hiding in his chest as an overwhelming, aching pleasure invaded your system. It felt good, but unbearable for being so little, churning something in your belly that made you despair for more.
"Y-yes." You whimpered, rolling your hips on his thigh.
Kaz's bare hand crept up the slit between your thighs, your dress already balled up at the top of your waist, and dipped his fingers into the juncture of your pussy and his thigh, pulling your panties to the side and making you feel the fabric of his dark pants against your wet, hot flesh. You moaned louder, your grip on his shirt tighter and your hips rocked harder for have any friction.
“Do you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are? Is that what you've wanted all this time?” His words, husky and strong, in that intense, dominant intonation, sent all your self-control to hell.
"Yes." You sobbed. “I-I need you."
But his hand in your panties went up to your chin, and he forced you to look him in the eye once more. The electric intensity of that look turned you on even more, making you gasp as his thigh still rocked against your throbbing clit.
“After that little stunt? you’re not getting off that easy” It was very hard to think with all the stimuli he was giving you, but the thunderous blue eyes warned you to pay attention to his words “Do you think you deserve me to fuck you?”
His gaze invaded you so deep and so warm and intense that you wondered if he was trying to leave a burning imprint on your soul. All over your body, overwhelming desires resonated, and you gave in to the compulsion to roll his thigh further, whimpering from the pressure on your clit.
"I'm s-so sorry." You whimpered, eyes pleading with he "It won't happen again."
"Won't happen what?" He tightened his grip on your chin, not painfully, but firmly to get your attention.
"It won't happen again, Sir."
The reward for your obedience came in an aggressive, hungry kiss, his hand in your chin dropping for your hip and wiggle his thigh at your needy pussy.
"Do you want to cum?" He teased you.
"Yes, S-sir."
"The only way you're getting off is on my thigh."
Then, as if to reiterate his statement, his mouth clutte to yours once more, his thigh swayed with more vigor and his bare hands moved up to the neckline of your dress.
His warm palms and long fingers lowered the straps of your dress and released your braless breasts, your nipples hard with pleasure and your breasts swollen with arousal.
Your moan was muffled by Kaz's, and he just released your mouth to lower his lips to your left breast, capturing the innocent nipple with his mouth and rolling his tongue across your flesh. You moaned louder, your waist twisting desperately against his thigh as your hands tangled in the strands of his black hair.
Kaz delighted in every inch of you, his hands going back to your waist as his mouth attacked your other breast, leaving a trail of hot saliva on his tight, needy nipples. Brekker was consumed by a fierce hunger and need, so overpowering that he pressed his fingers to your skin as if you were his last meal. He'd wanted for so long to do all that, to dive into your body like a starving man, savoring every inch of your warm skin.
Letting out a loud, delighted moan, Kaz increased his thigh movements as he suckled on your nipple, feeling flung to hell heaven as you squealed softly and collapsed onto his thigh, smearing his black fabric with your hot cum. But Kaz couldn't care less about the fucking pants. His cock hard and rigid as a sword hilt throbbed desperately, commanding him to sink into the heat of your slippery walls.
"This is much better than I dreamin." You whimpered softly, your face still buried in his neck, your waist wiggling slyly in his thigh.
"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" He teased you, taking his hands to your panties away from the center of your pussy and pulling them between your legs, tucking them in his pants pocket.
You nodded, your mouth dipping into his neck in broken kisses as your hands went to his pants belt, trying to get rid of any barrier between the two of you as quickly as possible.
"Please, please." You begged, flustered as Kaz stopped your hip movements with his hands "I need to feel you inside me."
Your plea was sated with an arrogant kiss as Kaz reached for his pants, pulling the fabric of the boxer together and letting pop out his dick throbbing, pulsing and his swollen head, brushing in your pussy with lazy strides.
"S-sir!" You cried, trying to earn more.
"Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you."
The strong, long arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your chest against his chest as Kaz guided his dick to the entrance to your pussy, with one hand. He play whit you, pressing his head into your entrance just enough to make you feel the pressure, recoiling when you swayed frantically for more. The painful pleasure sent tears to your eyes, and you sobbed loudly as you were just toy in his hands.
A few hot tears ran down your face as you whimpered, helpless in his arms to get what you wanted.
"You know, you look real pretty when you cry." Kaz pressed his mouth to yours.
In that second, he completely sank his dick into you, swallowing your loud scream as the thickness of it widened you and hit the bottom of the well. The grip of his arm around you tightened, and Kaz lifted you and brought you let down badly, drown his dick even more deeply inside your hot, wet, desperate walls.
"S-sir!" You moaned loudly, his mouth leaving yours, but not pulling away enough and letting you feel his hard breath hit your lips.
You followed his thrusts, bouncing your waist up and down hard and letting his dick beat frantically inside you, robbing you of your breath and your ability to think. Your moans mingled with his, the pornographic sounds of their bodies crashing together were loud and you thanked God the car windows were black and the street was deserted.
"So fucking good slut!" Kaz growled against your lips, one hand leaving your body to snake down to your throat, maintaining a firm, dominant grip.
You moaned his name and his title between loud moans and broken sobs. Yours hands closed around the shirt off his shoulders and the waist shimmied between the thrusts, making sure his dick was completely inside you.
“You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat!” Kaz tightened his grip on yoir neck, watching you tilt your head back and expose your entire body to the delight of his eyes.
He growled louder, spurred on by that sinful sight, and increased the rhythm that pounded inside you, filling every inch of you and sinking down as anatomically as possible. Kaz felt possessed by a wild beast, insatiable and euphoric, and each thrust he gave you was more force he inflicted on you, marking you as his.
Kaz pulled your neck to him, pressing your mouth to his as he growled against your lips: “Mine.”
You nodded frantically, the apex bursting in a burst of pleasure as his dick came out and sank in hard, desperate, urgent strokes.
“Yours”
You promised, kissing him urgently and swallowing a low cry as his dick shuddered inside you, flooding you with the hot liquid until your walls overflowed, giving you a feeling of being incredibly full. You whimpered into his mouth, exchanging a sloppy kiss as Kaz gave you a few more thrusts, making sure his cum would fill your every inch, not letting you dare waste a drop.
“Mine” he repeated through the kiss.
so, the weather??? HAHAHA, anyway friends, i hope you enjoyed. Don’t forget consult the rules if you want to request for some Kaz smut. Love u. O
#kaz brekker fluff#kaz brekker imagine#kaz brekker fanfic#kaz x kruge#kaz brekker au#kaz brekker smut#kaz brekker x you#kaz brekker could break my legs with his cane and i would say thank you#kaz brekker x reader#kaz brekker x y/n#kaz brekker#shadow and bone smut#inejgayfa#jesper fahey#kaz x jesper
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