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getmeoutofhell · 3 months

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Mk1 Women NSFW Headcanons part 2

includes: Li Mei, Mileena, Sindel.

part 1

warnings: SMUT! (ofc), pussy eating, degradation, STRAP! usage mentioned, mommy kink and blood kink mentioned, & more i think.

a/n: another WARNING! i added links to dildos to show a better description, just beware. sorry part 2 took fucking forever to do, but i’ve been working on other things. anyways enjoy!

Li Mei:

THIS women treats you so right in bed.

i promise you’ll never feel uncomfortable around her.

she loves feeling your naked body against hers. when you two have sex, it’s very intimate for her, so we wouldn’t want anyone knowing what you guys do when you’re alone if that makes since.

her strap is definitely a blue-ish color (something like this!), and boy does she know how to use it.

some days she’ll fuck you slow, whispering sweet and beautiful words in your ear as she’s inside of you.

“i love you so much, my lovely.” she says to you, as she kisses up your neck.

other days, you’re fucked. literally.

when’s she’s not in the best mood she’ll fuck you like you’re nothing to her, but you have the best orgasms so you don’t mind much.

and also after she fucks you dumb she compliments you. then she eats you out as a reward for being so good. but don’t worry, she reassures you once she’s done to make sure you’re safe.

she eats you out at a slow pace, tasting every inch of what’s hers. sometimes when you’re to needy and want her to go faster, she’ll just slowly lick up your slit over and over again. it drives you fucking insane.

if you guys are out somewhere where people can see you, she’ll check out your surroundings every minute to make sure nobody’s looking at your beautiful body.

if you behave good in public, she’ll give you a reward once you get home. she’ll even maybe let you be in charge. isn’t that great?

just be a good girl for her and you’ll be fine.

she fingers you so good, that you cum so fast every time.

but just imagine her scissoring you and slightly chocking you.

she loves buying you lingerie as a reward also for your good behavior.

she loves morning sex and is the best at it.

if you sit on her lap, you won’t be walking for a few days.

not gonna go into to much detail but you’ll thank me later 😛.

Mileena:

well if we’re talking about mileena after the incident she does a bunch of tongue action.

even when it comes to sex, a bunch of tongue action.

her strap is pink ofc with a spiral texture. (like this!) which has your g-spot touched beautifully.

if she’s pissed off (which happens a lot), you’ll know by how rough she is with you. nothing ever over the top but she’s not gonna be soft.

you’ll also know if she starts getting bossy with you. she might even yell a little bit, but nothing crazy.

you lowkey get pussy drunk with her every time you eat her out. and when she scissors you, you won’t ever get enough of it.

she licks all over your body. like all over. there’s not one spot she hasn’t licked on you. yes, that includes your ass crack, armpits, and feet. she’s a freaky girl.

she loves shoving her long tongue inside of your pussy. the feeling of that makes you lose your mind.

when she does eat you out, it’s very sloppy most of the time. her drool is everywhere. all over her, you, and the bed or whatever surface y’all are on.

she’d be down to try a bunch of kinks with you. you want it done? name it and she’ll do it with you.

she may of may not have a mommy and blood kink. i won’t go into to much detail…unless you want me to. 👀

if she’s horny when y’all are not home, y’all will be fucking anywhere. i’m not kidding. she’s a horny girl who gets horny often.

she’ll pull you into a room or bathroom to have you get her off, you’re fucked either way.

one of her favorite spots to lick you on your body besides your pussy, would definitely be your nipples. she just loves teasing them.

another thing she does in public is when she gets horny, she’ll eye you up and down in a certain way that tells you to come eat her pussy.

whenever y’all make out her tongue always immediately goes down your throat. your pussy loves it very much i tell you.

her fingers are pretty long, so when she fingers you, your legs basically become jelly every time. also, sometimes she makes you look at yourself in the mirror as she fingers you, hopefully you can keep your eyes open!

if you do somehow get to dom her, get prepared for her bickering. she still likes to be in control after all.

Sindel:

well, she does have a mommy kink for starters.

dom. a hard dom at that. she’s always in control of everything, you are her little slut after all ofc!

she wants you to obey her, so if you do that, you’ll be rewarded. she’ll even ride your beautiful face, wouldn’t you like that?

you have the best orgasms with her i swear. she fucks you like a slut.

mommy sindel’s strap looks like (this!), and it has your toes curling every single time. be prepared to get your pussy stretched and fucked nicely.

rough back shots most of the time. if you have hair be prepared.

she loves making you suck her beautiful nipples as she rubs her fingers through your hair (if you have any). god the noises she would make…

she is the queen after all so, if anyone comes near you she doesn’t want…they’re dead. she always immediately assumes the person is only hitting on you for sexual reasons, so she gets jealous.

you want to ride her face? you have to earn it like the slut you are. beg her and maybe she’ll let you. or if you misbehave she’s gonna ride your face and you won’t get any pleasure done to you. so your pussy is just gonna be wet and empty :(

another reward is her eating your pussy. which only happens if you be very good with no mistakes. mommy sindel doesn’t play.

she will sometimes take pictures of her in lingerie or just flat out naked and send them to you as a treat. i hope you enjoy it.

she loves shoving your face in her breast. her pussy gets so wet whenever you do it.

her pussy is perfect. like- actually perfect. and it taste so fucking good. every so often you do something bad on purpose, just so she’ll make you eat her pussy. but she knows when you do.

no one knows about you two. it’s y’all’s little secret, and always will be.

sometimes on missions, she’ll get pretty horny after watching you battle for her. on the way home, she’ll rub her hand on your thigh, letting you know it’s gonna be a wild night.

another thing she does as a punishment, is have you get on your knees infront of her. “who’s your queen?” she’ll ask you. you love it tho.

as long as you behave well and obey her, you’ll be rewarded as a good girl. :)

i hope you sluts enjoyed this. i’ve upgraded with my typing skills as you can see ;)

masterlist

#mk1 x y/n #mk1 #li mei #li mei mk #li mei x reader #mileena x reader #mileena #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #sindel #sindel x reader #mk women #i feel like this was needed to be made.

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middleearthpixie · 9 days

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Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Seven

Summary: Speech therapist Josephine Asharm has been brought into Erebor to work with Bifur, but trying to find her place among people who eye her suspiciously would be difficult enough under normal circumstances, but when Sophie finds herself caught between the king, his most trusted lieutenant, and the dwarf she’s there to help? She’s certain no good can come of it. Being of Man, not only does she stand out in the dwarf kingdom, she’s not entirely certain she’s actually welcome there at all.

Thorin only agreed to allow Sophie to live amongst them out of a sense of duty to Bifur, who is recovering from an odd head injury (is there any other way to describe having an axe blade lodged in one’s head, only to have it later dislodged during the Battle of the Five Armies?) Before the battle, he spoke only khuzdul. But since it? He’s regained the ability to speak Westron—if only he could but remember any of it. As for Thorin? He’s trying his damndest to ignore the speech therapist, not to mention his own growing feelings for her, even as he is also recovering from his near fatal wounding in the same battle.

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 1.7k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard

@legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits

@heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms

@sazzlep @night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Thorin straightened up and stepped away from the table. “Do you think she will like this?”

Heather looked up at him with solemn blue eyes and nodded. “I think so, Mister Thorin.”

“Good.” He smiled as he bent to scoop Heather into his arms. “Now, do you remember what you’re supposed to do, mimûna?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Heather had been an asset as she’d helped him set up the dining area in his flat, transforming it from a somewhat cold, cheerless alcove into a warm and welcoming space. He’d smuggled in china and crystal from the butler’s pantry, along with fine silver and gold candlesticks and pure white table linens that were only used for the most elegant of occasions (such as any royal wedding that might appear on the horizon) and now, soft golden light from the flickering white candles warmed the entire room.

“Should I go fetch Mama?”

He nodded. “Don’t tell her why, but don’t let her worry, either.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you won’t.” He pressed a kiss into her temple. “And don’t tell anyone else you might see on the way, either.”

She bobbed her head as he set her down. “I won’t. I promise.”

“Go.”

She slipped around the door and he tried to ignore the flutter of a thousand butterflies in his belly. Tried, but failed. It was foolish to be so nervous. He knew she would say yes when he formally asked for her hand. After all, she’d already said yes.

And yet, he was every bit as nervous as he’d been in the moments leading up to their first kiss, as he’d been in the moments when he’d teetered on the precipice of making love to her for the first time.

But at the same time, he wasn't nervous. He’d never felt for anyone, not even Elmaya, what he felt for Sophie. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, nothing he wouldn’t give her, and he wanted to be the ’adad to Heather that she deserved, to give both of his girls the lives they deserved.

Still, his belly danced with fluttering wings, which made sitting still impossible. So, he paced. Back. Forth. Around the table. Into the great room. Back into the dining area. And by the time the door opened, he almost leapt from his own skin.

“Mister Thorin?” Heather held her mother’s hand and smiled. “And I didn't tell anyone.”

All at once, his stomach calmed, his need to pace faded, and when he turned to see Sophie in the doorway, her eyes wide and already shimmering, he smiled. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“I’ve come to know Erebor almost as well as you and my daughter know it,” Sophie replied with a smile.

“Come in, then, and have some wine.”

Sophie eased her hand from Heather’s to tousle her daughter’s hair. “Did you know about this?”

Heather looked up at her mother with solemn, wide eyes. “I did. But I promised I wouldn’t tell you. Are you mad?”

“No, love. I’m not mad at all.”

Thorin reached for one of the crystal goblets, offering up a silent ask that his hand wouldn’t tremble and spill claret all across the snowy white table linen. Mahal listened and granted his wish, and he took a sip of wine to steady his nerves once more.

Then, he smiled. “Miss Heather, I have something very important I wish to ask you,” he told her, setting the goblet down to hold out that hand.

“Me?”

He nodded. “Yes, you.”

She stared at his outstretched hand, and then met his gaze. “What is it?”

He crouched to meet her eyes and caught her hand in his. “You know how important you and your mother have become to me, I hope.” He waited for her to nod and when she did, he went on, “and I know how important you are to your ’amad, so I feel it only fitting I ask you first.”

“Ask me what, Mister Thorin?”

“I wanted to ask you—to get your blessing, mimûna—if you would allow me to ask your mother to marry me.”

Heather pressed her lips together, her eyes shimmering as she looked up at her mother and then back at him. Her expression was far more serious than he’d ever seen, and his heart melted as she whispered, “Do you promise to note ever make her cry?”

“I give you my word, Miss Heather. I will never make her cry.”

“And you promise to make her laugh and bring her flowers and tell her stories about Princess Heather and the dragon with the beautiful scales?”

He nodded. “I promise to do all of those things.”

She blinked, then looked up at Sophie again. “Mama, would this make you happy?”

Sophie’s eyes shone as well as she nodded. “I would make me terrifically happy, Heather.”

“Then I think it would be all right,” Heather said, turning back to Thorin. “But only if I can call you ’adad.”

“I would be honored for you to do that, Miss Heather.” He reached out to brush the tip of her nose with his forefinger, then said, “Can I ask you to do one last thing for me?”

“What?”

“There is a box over on that table in the corner by your ’amad. Would you fetch it for me?”

Her dark curls bounced as she bobbed her head and practically skipped to the table in question, where she brought back the small teak box. She set it in his hand and stepped back as he straightened up.

“I’ve heard tell in your world that a man proposes marriage by offering his intended a ring, to let those around her know she is spoken for.”

With that, he lifted the box’s lid. Inside, on a bed of moss green velvet, was one of the most beautiful pieces Balin had ever crafted. The ring itself was mithril, and set into the mithril, ringed by diamonds so pure and white, they were nearly colorless, was an oval-shaped sapphire of the deepest blue he could find.

“Oh, my…” Sophie whispered, a hand coming to her lips. “Thorin, that is… that is beautiful…”

“Balin does fine work,” he said, “so, let’s see if it fits, shall we?”

Her hand trembled as he slipped the ring onto her fourth finger. It fit as if made for her. As he slid it into place, he said, “Will you marry me, Josephine Asharm?”

She nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

He leaned in to brush her lips with his, both of them laughing when Heather grumbled, “Ew. Squishy sounds.”

“Oh, forgive me, Miss Heather,” he replied with a grin as he pulled back. “And you know, I almost forgot, but I have something for you, as well, mimûna.”

“You do?”

He nodded. “I do, indeed. I know Lady Dís explained to you the importance of dwarves’ hair and the braids we wear, didn't she?”

“She did. And she wove this into my hair.” Heather cradled the braid Dís had woven into her hair so many weeks ago, the braid Sophie smoothed and fixed on a regular basis.

“I was wondering if you would allow me to do the same?”

She stared up at him and slowly nodded. “I’d like that, Mister Thorin.”

“Good. So would I.” He crouched, reaching into the box once more to pull out the small square of moss green velvet, where, beneath it, lay a small silver cube. He plucked it from the box carefully, and held it out. “Does this meet with your approval, Miss Heather?”

She squinted as she studied the cube. “What does it say?”

“Uzbadnâtha. Do you remember what that means?”

She nodded slowly. “Princess.”

“And when your mother and I marry,” he told her softly, “you will become Princess Heather.”

“I will?” Wonder wove through her words and her eyes went perfectly round. “I’ll be a real princess?”

“I am the king, mimûna,” he reminded her with a soft chuckle. “And the daughters of kings are princesses. So, you shall be Princess Heather. If you wish to be, that is.”

“I like how it sounds.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shimmering once more, then pointed to the rune. “Can you put it near Lady Dís’ braid?”

“Of course I can.” He set to work, taking great care not to tug her hair to hard as he carefully wove the rune into the plait, and when he finished, she threw her arms about his neck and squeezed him so tight, he thought he might actually pass out from lack of air.

Later that night, after supper was finished and everything cleared away, Sophie smiled as she came into the sitting area and found Heather sound asleep on the sofa. Usually, when she was anywhere other than her own room and she fell asleep, Heather would curl into a ball, would make herself as small as possible.

But not this time. This time, she lay stretched out, peaceful in her dreaming and seeing it almost brought more tears to Sophie’s eyes.

She didn't jump when Thorin’s arm eased about her waist. Apparently Heather wasn't the only one who felt safe there.

“I should get her home,” she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder.

“Let her sleep, mesmel. I have a second bedchamber that she can have all to herself, just as she does in your flat. It’s plain now, but she can decorate however she wishes.”

She smiled up at him. “Are you certain about that?”

“About her decorating or staying?”

“Decorating. She is only four, remember.”

“I know. But she is a wise four who has seen far more of the world than she should have. Now, she gets to be a child and if that means decorating her room in colorful dragons and princesses, I’m fine with it.”

“You’re taking on a ready made family, you know.”

He turned to her, easing his free arm about her waist. “I know.”

“One you were not expecting to take on.”

“I know.”

“And she can be a handful.”

“I know.” His eyes sparkled like the sapphire on her finger. “And I look forward to the coming days, and with any luck, we will add to this family. Heather should not be an only child if we can possibly help it.”

She smiled as she wound her arms about his neck, threading her fingers through his thick hair. “I wholeheartedly agree, Your Majesty.”

“Somehow,” he murmured, his lips just brushing hers, “I thought you would, mesmel.”

The End

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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morayoflight · 2 years

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JADE BUTLER SIGN ME UP-

Okay but listen. It’s only a matter of time before reader and Jade start pinning for one another. But how would Jade react to some rando trying to court reader during a fancy party? Like trying to ask them to dance when they’re clearly not comfortable?

Ofc feel free to ignore this but thank you for reading :))

Hi anon! Thank you for requesting this! Somehow, I ended up writing an entire fic instead of just headcanons. I hope that's okay TvT

Butler!Jade reacts to someone trying to court the reader

*Gender-neutral terms for reader are used

Synopsis: You attend an acquaintance's party with Jade and someone happens to have their eye on you

Word Count: 1437

----

Jade may be your butler, but he also performs a multitude of roles for you-- one of them is being your chaperone to parties such as this.

If you were allowed to be honest, you weren't excited about this party at all. It was something you had to attend out of courtesy, trying to keep up the family image, yada yada.

So, you chose to loiter in corners with Jade instead.

Jade, with that ever so pleasant smile of his, follows you everywhere like a dog leashed to his master. He would, from time to time, lean down and whisper to you the names and titles of the other lords and ladies who wished to extend their greetings.

You couldn't care less about those people, so you never remembered them. Jade knew this day would come, so he took it upon himself to memorize basic information on every single person you've met in the parties you've attended in the past.

Honestly, where would you be without him?

Jade practically knew everyone in the room, and that is why his vision dimmed when he spotted a certain lord walking towards your direction

"Ah, a wonderful evening, (Name)! It is a fancy meeting you here," the man says, taking your hand to place a kiss on top of it. You were laughing albeit nervously, trying to be polite, but Jade caught the way your body tensed up a bit.

Oh, how badly he wanted to drag you away from this situation. Alas, he was just a mere butler and could not risk tarnishing your honor all because of a servant's misconduct. He does value his reputation only for your sake.

Instead, his smile grew wider when the lord sent a nonchalant nod of acknowledgement to his direction. It was the kind of close-eyed smile he did whenever he was cooking up sinister plans in his head.

The lord in question was none other than a bothersome man who has been relentlessly pursuing you ever since that one party weeks ago.

He has sent you many things. From flowers, to lengthy romantic letters and lavish gifts, Jade has seen them all and he could not be more than happy enough to throw them out for you everytime you exhaled a big sigh and asked for them to be removed.

"Have you been standing here like a wallflower all this time? Have some fun! Here, why don't we dance?" the lord offers a hand to you, clearly expecting that you would indulge his invitation.

Instead, you stared at his open palm, and fiddled with your own hands.

"L-look, my lord, I am terribly sorry but I don't think I can--"

"Nonsense! It has been so long since I last gazed upon you. You will grant me the honor of spending a fraction of your night with you, yes?" He completely cut your words off, grabbing your hand and prepared to drag you off to the dance floor. Now this was exactly your problem with this suitor, he is most assertive and inconsiderate.

Your head immediately spun to Jade, eyes screaming for help.

How. dare. he.

This abominable swine.

This display of utter disrespect to his master set Jade's blood at boiling point that with one swift movement, he came between you and this poor excuse of a gentleman.

Jade's gentle hands are on your shoulders, his back facing the man as he blocks you from eyesight with his tall stature. Looking back at the young lord, Jade smiles again.

"I apologize, my lord. My master has been feeling unwell."

The man raises an eyebrow suspiciously as he tries to peer at you past your butler.

"They seemed fine to-"

"My goodness! (Name), you are looking a bit flushed. Here, let me check your temperature," Jade exclaims, his voice laced with worry and concern, and maybe a bit of exaggerated dramatization. But it was enough to baffle the man who staggered back in confusion.

Jade removes a glove and places his bare hand on your forehead, giving him an excuse to lean down and come closer to your ear. He starts whispering abruptly.

"Pretend to faint. Now, if you will excuse me,"

Before you could even ask him what was going on, Jade discreetly trips your leg with his foot and you find yourself falling to his arms. Remembering what he'd whispered, you close your eyes shut and pray that your acting was just as good as your butler's.

"(Name)! A-are they alright?" The man frantically shuffles closer, but Jade heaves you into his arms and faces the other direction before the young lord could even touch you.

"They will be fine, my lord. Perhaps the party’s atmosphere is starting to weigh down on them. I truly do apologize, but I need to take my master home. I worry for their health, you see" Jade sighed, his eyebrows creased with pretend concern as he cradles you closer to his chest.

The man coughs and straightens his back.

"O-of course! I value their health too. Yes, do see to it that they are returned home safely. Then, I shall head back.”

Oh, how unreliable, Jade thought. This young lord could only pretend to be dignified but can do no good for his master. He did not even ask to come and escort them out. If he was so worried, he would at least want to send off the person he is so romantically interested in?

As expected of a failed, incompetent gentleman.

Men who are shaken by the slightest of troubles do not deserve a place in his master's life or heart. They would not be able to protect such a precious existence.

“Ah, before I forget…” Jade starts, halting the lord’s receding steps.

He meets the man’s eyes with a cold, unfeeling stare. Jade’s heterochromatic irises tore through the young lord’s gaze. A predator assessing its prey, preparing to lunge. It was enough to send shivers down the latter’s spine.

“My master possesses a kind and fragile heart, and I often find this to be a weakness but–”

Jade pauses, feeling a slight pinch in the middle of his stomach just where your hand rested. How fond, he thought, sending you a second-long loving gaze before fixating an even more hostile glare at the young lord. His soul must certainly be terrified now.

“Allow me to say this in their stead. They would very much prefer it if you kept your distance from them. No, in fact, this is my suggestion: please refrain from contacting my master for the rest of your life, for your sake.”

Satisfied with himself, Jade smiles and politely bids the stunned, trembling lord a good night.

Indeed, it was always fun disposing of hindrances for his master.

It was not only until the coast was clear, and you had been placed safely inside the carriage did you crack one eyelid open.

Jade claps his hands, his smile a pleasant one.

"Splendid acting, my lady/lord."

You rolled your eyes and shifted in your seat.

"Please, I merely pretended to faint. It was you who did all the work, so thank you, Jade."

"I am humbled by your words," Jade places a hand to his chest, bowing his head slightly.

But still, so much for a party. You wanted to wait for dessert and it was the entire reason why you stuck around for so long. How disappointing.

Jade, ever so attentive, sensed your low spirits and cleared his throat to get your attention.

"For tonight's dessert after dinner, we will have (favorite dessert)."

It was exactly the thing you have been waiting for at the party. You stared at him in surprise and started laughing.

"Ah, really. What will I do without such a competent butler? This is why I like you, Jade!"

Your butler smiled, not hiding how pleased he is by your sentiment.

"I like you too."

"What?" Your laughter died in a split-second and you stared at Jade with your eyes too wide and mouth agape.

Jade snickered. Mischief glimmered in his eyes at the sight of his lovely master looking like a deer caught in headlights. He does enjoy teasing you once in a while.

He certainly wasn't taking advantage of the fact that you were so forgiving and lenient towards him.

"For being an easily pleased and easily flustered master, that is. Fufu. I do enjoy simple people."

Heat traveled up from your neck to your ears. Out of embarrassment or anger, you didn't know. But you swore you looked as red as a tomato right now.

"Jade!"

But maybe, just maybe, your loyal butler meant every single word after all.

#octavinelle x reader #twisted wonderland #jade leech #twisted wonderland hcs #jade leech x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #moraywrites #twst jade #twst fanfic #twst #disney twisted wonderland

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compassionatereminders · 7 months

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I don't know if this is a criticism as much as an observation/perspective.

But I think most of the time when you 'fuck up' on the blog, it comes from a difficulty in considering the ways other people, who are not you, use tumblr.

Because you have low self esteem and don't like to acknowledge when you have something special about you in a positive way, ultimately it's hard for you to conceptualise the purpose/use/experience of tumblr for most users.

Most blogs live in obscurity, with few followers and interaction. Reblogs are more like a personal collection. And most of the interaction they get from the website (if not all) is from people asking asks that they sent.

To you most unidentified anons are just that. An anonymous monolith. And to them, sometimes you are their only source of interaction on this website.

This creates a somewhat unbalanced relationship, which I believe you generally navigate well, which I believe you are getting increasingly better at.

But things like when you used to get increasingly annoyed with many people saying the same uncomfy thing, until you responded to one of them, angrily so, because in your head you were responding to all of them - I believe that came from this sense of the anonymous monolith. And in the same way that followers can forget that you are a real person, it can also be hard to keep in mind that behind every single anon there is a different individual human being. Who will take the response as a personal response, as they likewise, struggle to take your perspective.

Similar is true of the question of how people interact with your posts. To a lot of people it might feel entitled for you to get upset about how some people interact, considering that they are not used to their posts gaining any traction.

And on your end, you are used to reblogging and posting to An Audience, while most people are collecting things for themselves, quickly forgetting that their ever was an OP. Not necessarily even aware that OP will be spammed with every single comment and response. So they write a note about what they think of the post along with it, how it does or does not, pertain to their life or resonate with them. And to you it feels like they are commenting at you personally, when usually no one really considers OP of the post once the post has breached containment. By then it's a piece of media in the public sphere that people interact with however they see fit.

And I think a lot of interactions that will leave you or others feeling upset comes from the fact that for most people it's hard to imagine what it's like to be on such an interactive version of tumblr as you are. And for you it's hard to imagine the opposite, and how people exist on the site in obscurity. And how that influences the way they interact with you, and the weight they might put into your words.

That is the core of the parasocial relationship problem ofc. It not only dehumanizes you, it also puts you in a position of some amount of responsibility that is difficult bc cognitively and emotionally you gotta dehumanize the audience in return. It's simply not really possible for any brain to conceptualise that level of interaction and following as individual human moments.

That said I think you're actually doing a banger job and that's part of why so many people love it here and are helped by your responses. You are removed enough, while compassionate enough, to be able to offer people something many sorely need: To be seen, and answered by the void, with compassion and understanding.

Yeah those are good points and your commentary on these things through the years has definitely broadened my perspective and made me change my approach to certain tumblr annoyances! And I really, really appreciate that. This has led to me being far more careful about which comments I respond to directly (if any) and how, it has made me more likely to articulate certain boundaries in a general post instead of singling out one anon who stepped wrong, and it has led me to put more effort into being respectful to anons even when they bother me or cross my boundaries. And this has definitely improved this blog and my approach to people in general. So I appreciate the guidance you've thrown my way the times I really WAS the asshole!

#chat with kat

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xxlovelynovaxx · 3 months

Text

Cool, so you're fundamentally reactionary:

(AI discourse below, you have been warned)

(the part below it says something about "the torment nexus)

If you think the books from 1984 are the torment nexus, or even a large contributor to the dystopia and not say, extreme censorship leading to those books that are made by machines that have STRICT rules about what can be written and produce NOTHING deemed "unacceptable" then I don't think you actually read 1984.

It's almost as if they have symbolic meaning and "machine book bad" isn't actually the full point.

And don't get me wrong, I don't personally like AI books. But about the only censorship that's occurring is of sexual content, and given that sexual AI text generators exist I think that's a moot point. If you're so concerned about society becoming "literally 1984" though, maybe focus more energy on stuff like Patreon and Gumroad's bans of (certain) nsfw content, on legislation within your state attempting to ban or restrict access to literature on queer identity and racism, and so on?

I'm not saying the people whining about AI aren't also doing that, but I am saying that wasting time on AI that could be used on stuff that actually matters isn't smart, because a world where AI generated texts exist alongside all manner of human-made ones is nowhere fucking close to 1984 and y'all need to either get a grip or keep weeping.

Also bonus:

Cool, cool. How much of your dislike of AI then comes from just having a squick around certain types (especially since as AI tech improves, I highly doubt you're having this reaction to every single image - at least, you're either "reacting" to stuff that ISN'T AI based on a shared art style and a guess that it is AI, and/or you're not reacting to all AI images because there's some you miss and think are not AI) and how much from fundamentally fascist ideas about what "real art" is or culturally christian ideas about how "real art" requires "hard work" or has "no soul" without a human touch.

I really need to filter AI discourse myself because I'm getting so tired of seeing the same indistinguishable-from-conservative-arguments-about-art about AI.

Especially the ableism and leaning into inspiration porn as proof that all disabled people CAN do art without using AI - or if not inspiration porn, insisting that any medium puts on a surface counts as art and people who can't do art in the way they want should just make basic fingerpaintings or scribbles and be happy they created something, which is WILDLY patronizing. There's nothing wrong with fingerpaintings or scribbles ofc, but gods don't act like that's enough for most people or even the reason people are engaging with art.

And for that matter stop moralizing people who engage with art for an end product rather than the process because reacting to "art is always about the end product" with "art is never about the end product" is just the same problem in reverse! It's almost as if the actual issue with either statement is in fact the idea of a "right way" to engage with art!)

Anyway it's not like the squick/trigger isn't valid but like. You clearly have not examined your biases or how your dislike of a type of image informs your reactionary beliefs towards it. Also, your actual issue seems to be that people aren't properly tagging their posts that contain AI images (and listen, I do have some sympathy for not being able to filter just "AI" as it would filter every post that has any word with letters in those order, possibly even that has letters in between judging how "a/e/mogai" filters "accessmogai" for us).

But I mean, people improperly tagging and poor filtering abilities aren't actually about AI. It's about this site's hostility to attempts at curating your own experience, despite being one of the better sites out there for it, and about people not doing anything to get around that.

Mind you, there's a solution that involves AI itself - if AI has a tag denoting that it is such in the metadata, and sites have a toggle that allows you to filter that tag so it's blurred or blocked altogether, much like they currently do for "adult content", then you'd never have to see AI again. Hell, the site could make the toggle only for stuff that had a "community label" or tag of AI and let users determine that - although with how many human artists have been accused of their art being AI, I think that's probably a really fucking bad idea.

Anyway, I'm tagging this as aicourse. I also struggle to filter shit takes like the screenshots above because no one is fucking tagging "ai hate" or "ai discourse" or anything, so again, I get the annoyance at not being easily able to filter it. I just think the latter person is a huge fucking hypocrite for not making their tired takes about AI filterable for everyone too, especially if it's because they think it's all "stupid brainwashed techbros" (wow, that's a lot of ableism*) that are for or neutral on AI.

*The amount of ableism and downright cruelty I've seen even towards people who have fallen for actual scams like NFTs and cryptocurrency, basically treating them the same shitty way you treat people with intellectual and cognitive disabilities with a heaping scoop of the shitty way you treat people who have been manipulated, radicalized, and even survived cults or cult-adjacent groups, is really fucking gross. And as somesys who hated NFTs and cryptocurrency at the height of their popularity, it's certainly made me feel unsafe as victims of manipulative abuse and survivors of cult-adjacent harm, it's made us feel really fucking unsafe!

Do you even actually care about how your rhetoric impacts vulnerable people, or is hating or clowning on a random bit of tech more important to you than that? Well, it's not either/or, because you could literally just actually think critically about the things you're saying and decide to use actual arguments that don't send out shrapnel leaving a bunch of collateral damage in their wake. I'd still disagree with it, but quite frankly even if I think you've chosen the wrong target, I can get behind hating.

Even if it's just for hating's sake, or if it's not, I find hating not related to identity/people to be a perfectly acceptable and even enjoyable pastime for plenty of people. It's just that you kind of fucking need to make sure you AREN'T still hurting people about it, directly or indirectly. Like when I hate on rayon sheets because their texture makes me want to peel my skin off, I'm not making it the problem of people who can only afford that or who like them or who are forced because of fast fashion to keep getting them or w/e.

Idk this has devolved into a personal vent but like. I'm gonna go make a post now about how shitty people are about people who are literally victims of scams and cults and such bc. Y'all fucking suck.

#aicourse #<- oh look a tag for filtering purposes #🙄

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michixoxo · 1 month

Note

hello i just wanted to request a one-shot! i love your writing haha

anyways could you write a oneshot based on the reader (female) (who’s dating arlo-secretly or publicly idk) having to fight john during the joker arc and arlo gets involved and the aftermath of the fight? like if the reader is hospitalised! kind of like when joker and remi fought. thanks sm if you can!

ofc! thank you anon, im just glad i have people to write for <3

word count: 1.1K

a fucking jungle. that's the only way you can describe this hell hole. as if high school wasn't bad enough, with joker running around, it's become an anxious mess of trembling cowards and fools. though, as much as you'd like to blame the rest of the student body for how things are going down, you can't shake the feeling like you're all to blame. too self-absorbed, too violent, too cruel, to notice nor care about those below us. with a strained laugh, you figure you're the same. too vain.

but instead of degrading yourself any longer, you walk down the empty hallway, wondering whether it'd be better to text arlo for his location than search for him. though, whenever you both would plan to meet up, it would always catch some prying eyes, ruining the whole secret relationship part of your secret relationship. you reach for your phone in your back pocket, still looking forward. he's been really stressed lately, for good reason, maybe you should take him out for dinn—? huh? that's weird. you don't feel your phone in your pocket. you hum as you turn your neck back and—

—collide with someone's white-knuckled fist. you barely have time to process whats going on as you fall down, red already beginning to drip down and out of your nose onto the pristine white floor. who the hell?! who would dare—?! a knee connects with your head, forbidding any coherent thoughts.

"you're boyfriend's fucking useless, and so are you.", you're not you when you're hungry, and you can't help but think, as you look at that infamous ski mask through blood laced eyes, that mister joker could really benefit from a snickers. you power up, the glow in your eyes as dim and pessimistic as your chances in this fight. yet, you stand, though the reddened ground almost seems to drag you with it. you stand, though you wish to sleep and never wake again. you stand, because a certain blond doesn't like cowards and damn it all to hell if you aren't gonna try for him.

despite this, a pig's resolve is never thought of by the farmer. try as you might, but as you hear the crack of your spine under his foot, you realize there's not a world in which a mere spade could trump this joker. you fall, face first on the ground. you watch, as the black of his shoes comes into view. surly, he won't kick you while you're— fuck! okay, maybe he will. and he does so multiple times to where it's almost funny. you make a cruel beat with the rhythm of his kicks and the sound of your groans. a symphony never realized, for a forceful punch knocks joker off his beat.

"HAVE YOU NOT HAD ENOUGH?!", you barely open your eyes, blood soaked, making it hard to see. though, you'd recognize that pristine blond hair anywhere. "SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU! HOW VIOLENT— HOW CRUEL ARE YOU?!", the source of all our problems: violence, cruelty. but, he's right, you didn't do anything. didn't do anything when you saw the lower tiers brought to their knees. didn't do anything when you saw the manic grins of the higher tiers, getting off from their pain. you held no hand in it, but maybe to joker, your eyes hold the same guilt.

judge, jury, and executioner, he lands a solid punch to arlo's face. not like it did much, his skin feels closer to stone than flesh. still, the slightly muffled, impossibly vengeful voice reaches your ears, "you didn't stop sera from being kidnapped, but you have the balls to prevent your fucking whore from getting what she deserves? your priorities seem to be fucked up, your majesty." you try to laugh, but only blood sputters out. darkness overtakes you, violent and cruel.

...

"its all my fault.", you never took arlo as the self depricating kind, but you can understand the sentiment as you lie in hospital gowns and wheeze with every breath. "no, it's not, he was gonna go after me anyways. the whole destroy the hierarchy thing he's going on about and all...fuck, how could we not know there was someone this strong in Wellston?", you cough, "and apparently bloodthirsty."

you raise an eyebrow as he looks away, a certain expression gracing his face, one you've never seen. it almost looks like... shame? no, no, arlo? ashamed? did joker give you brain damage or something-? no way. no. way.

"you good?", his attention returns back to you. he holds your gaze before smiling, soft and delicate. an expression you've seen many times before, one reserved only for you. "i should be asking you, you're in the hospital bed after all.", "meh, i'll walk it off." you both allow yourself to giggle, basking in each other's company.

he holds your hand, resting his forehead ever so gently on the back. "i'm sorry. i'm really, really sorry." you grimace, it's not his fault. if anything, joker should be apologizing. he should be here groveling, begging for your forgiveness rather than arlo, the man you want to marry.

you caress his face, lifting your hand to cup his cheek gently, pulling his head up. your heart aches, looking at those glossy blue eyes. he hasn't cried in years, told you as much, and yet here he is, on the brink. and all for you. with your thumb, you rub circles into his cheek.

"i love you, and i'll always be here for you.", you say, imagining that the ache in your heart matches his as he leans into your touch, letting out a breathy chuckle. he sighs, and his breath is warm against your chilled hands.

"besides, a couple kicks isn't gonna kill me. joker will have to try harder to take me out!", you give him a thumbs up, earning a more genuine laugh. "right, he'd have better luck by throwing a book at your head.", you gasp, "hey! i read, probably more than you, you ass!", "hm, you're right,", you cross your arms proud at your— "it'd have to be a calculus book. blunt force combined with your hatred of math? might have to arrange your funeral right now.", "HEY!"

you spend the evening like that, which soon falls into the night. the sun descends down the buildings outside the window, not returning. your sun, similarly grabs a blanket, covering himself with it as he sleeps in a chair at your bedside, holding your hand in his. you glance at him, and squeeze his hand ever so slightly. this is the man you want to marry, and joker better try his damn hardest to take you from him.

#unordinary arlo #unordinary #michixoxo #unordinary oneshot

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ohbother2 · 3 months

Note

hi! so like, i might try writing smut soon enough (because why the hell not amirite?) so like, is there any advice you could give me? like DOs and DONTs, tools that could be useful to avoid orthographic errors etc etc (im used to using chat GPT to look at my horribly, horribly written texts and correct them, but i've got a feeling it will straight up censor it, and english's not my first language, so anything that would make my dirty dirty texts into dirty clean text would be dope)

Hi!

I'm sorry but because you're an ageless blog I'm not going to give actual smut-writing advice, but ig it's okay to give general writing advice?

Just a reminder to everyone, if you're a minor please do not interact with me or my posts!

In all honesty I don't really know what I even do when I write, the words just sort of appear and I'm like 'yep, that works', but that's not the most useful advice, lol

I envision the story I want to read, and then I write it how I want to read it. I hope that makes sense

I guess my main advice would be to find your own niche, like, are you a dialogue or an 'action' based writer? Ofc it's good to be good at both but people have their own strong suits. For me, for example, I'm much better at descriptive writing than dialogue so that's what I focus most of my writing around

People also have their own unique styles and formatting to their writing - I feel as though mine is pretty distinctive with certain types of vocabulary and paragraph spacing/grammar/etc - so I guess it would be good to find a style that works good for you! For example, don't stick to lengthy paragraphs of immense detail if that doesn't come naturally to you, etc

My absolute top priority when writing is to not tell the readers what's going on, but to show it. Sometimes 'They felt X/Y/Z' is a useful tool for emphasising a particular point, but sometimes it detracts from the writing overall.

As an example: 'He felt as if his heart was going to burst from his chest...' (This can be good when used in the right moments, but if that's the only descriptor the writing loses a bit of life to it)

Compared to: 'His heart hammered painfully against his taut ribs as he gasped uselessly for breath...' (This is showing rather than just simply telling, and is how I personally prefer to write a majority of the time)

It's also important not to repeat yourself unnecessarily - it can be good to repeat when you're really trying to emphasise a point, but sometimes writing can stagnate and become less engaging? It's very difficult to find the right balance but it makes a world of difference to a piece of text

For dialogue (arguably my weakest skill) the best piece of advice is that you cannot write accurately how people in real life talk. When we talk we mostly fill out thoughts with nonsense and fluff out the main point - you can't write this because the readers will become disengaged. There's an important balance to find between being too formal for speech, maintaining the main point of the conversation, and ensuring the characters still sound like themselves. I tend to really try and put myself in the characters heads, think about what they'd actually say, and then 'translate' it into a written format that works whilst keeping that characters traits.

The way I 'learnt' to write was through reading, and I'd really recommend you read in your desired writing language (I'm guessing English from your ask) to see the typical structures and vocabulary of that language when written down. Direct translations don't always work, especially with literature, because there are phrases and sayings and common slights-of-tongue that are language specific, so I think it's really useful to get used to that language in its own written form, yk?

I forgot!! But it's also important not to tell your readers everything. Let them fill some gaps in on their own - they don't need to be told how a line of dialogue was said if it's obvious in the speech and context, and they don't always need to know how a character moved across a room or what their hands are doing 100% of the time. Sometimes the best parts of stories are the bits that go unsaid :)

Sorry, this is rambling and probably not very useful, but I've never given writing advice before.

Writing really is all down to the author finding their own 'voice' within their texts, and I'm sure you're writing will be great!!! I hope this helps! :))

#writing advice I guess?#im really not qualified for this #sorry if this makes no sense

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thee-morrigan · 1 year

Text

sincerity is scary

character(s): Holland Townsend, plus a lil Verda at the beginning (technically, Nate's not in this but my god is he living rent-free in Holland's mind) wc/rating: 3.2k / T (swearing) warnings: so many spoilers for Book 3 (all below the cut ofc!) read on ao3 in case anyone’s wondering, Holland still thinks the scariest thing she’s up against is her own stupid heart.

“Come on, Verda, you have to have something for me. I want to do things. I need to do things.”

“You know, some research suggests that feeling the need to be busy all the time is a trauma response,” the pathologist responded mildly, not looking up from the tray of instruments he was busy sterilizing. “That it’s a fear-based compulsion to distract your brain from meaningfully processing traumatic events.”

“You wanna send me those citations, then, and I can distract myself with some light reading?” Holland snapped back, but there was no heat in it.

Verda paused his work then and turned, giving a huff of laughter whose lightness was somewhat diminished by the careful assessment in his eyes as they swept her face. Although they’d started out, as many good friends do, brought together not by fate or fortune but chance proximity, they had quickly discovered bright shared threads of themselves in each other beneath the veneer of professional courtesy and had found themselves fast companions ever since.

He respected her as a colleague, of course; more than he’d expected, if he was honest. She had a stronger background in his line of work than he’d dared to hope in such a small station, which made her a useful colleague to have when he found himself stymied by something. And — perhaps most importantly — she didn’t pester him with questions she didn’t even know were asinine when a case experienced delays. He’d liked Detective Reele more or less, but she’d been marginally tolerable when things didn’t move at the speed she decided appropriate, regardless of whether he could make degraded tissue spontaneously re-materialize when she decided she wanted clearer fingerprints. No, Detective Townsend was a better colleague, that was certain.

More than just respecting her work, though, he liked Holland in general; she brought a borderline acerbic levity to the station that balanced against Tina’s more exuberant nature and his own tendency to forget to venture upstairs at least once a day. She wasn’t calmer than Tina, exactly — he wasn’t sure calm was a word that had ever been used to describe Holland Townsend. But if Tina was something in the neighborhood of bubbly, all iridescent soap shine and rounded edges, Holland was something sharper, something fizzing, like a live wire.

When he looked at her now, though, he saw less of the bright crackle of energy and more of the kind of nervous energy that led people to market abhorrent devices like fidget spinners. She looked restless. She looked tired.

—

Holland was tired. Goddamn exhausted, actually, if she was honest with herself, which seemed to be almost never these days. She didn’t let herself linger on the way that thought chafed any more than she let herself slow down enough for that bone-deep weariness to press its full weight against her.

It was better to keep moving.

“You know, you’re probably overdue for a vacation,” Verda’s voice, more tinged with concern than it had been a moment ago, cut through her reverie. “I’m pretty sure your promotion to detective didn’t entitle you to less PTO.”

The spark of wry humor in his comment didn’t fully mask the shade of careful observation in his eyes, but…it was an attempt. An easy out for her to muster her usual grinning nonchalance — the irreverent charm Adam had once snarked at her about relying on too heavily.

If it ain’t broke, I guess, she thought, swallowing the urge to sigh as she indeed summoned a half-smile, made herself look her friend in the eye as she tilted her head at him.

“There you go with that concern again, V,” she teased, rising from her perch on the edge of a spare lab bench.

“It’s almost like we’re friends,” he said dryly, although some of the tension in his face eased.

“Which is why I’m gonna let you get back to it and quit bugging you.” Holland moved toward the open lab door and paused, resting one hand against the door jamb as she flashed Verda a more genuine smile. “Thanks, though. For letting me bug you.”

He waved her comment off, though he returned her smile. “Anytime. Besides, I’m hoping things will finally start calming back down with those recent cases sorted. Then we’ll both probably relish any interruptions to the usual humdrum.”

It was all she could do to dredge up a hum of laughter in agreement before stepping back into the corridor, only letting her shoulders slump once she was safely ensconced in her office.

She hadn’t told any of them yet that she was leaving the station. She’d have to soon; she knew that, knew she’d been putting it off far too long already. And, as her mother had pointed out, it wasn’t as if she was never going to be able to see them again. Her friends would still be her friends. They just wouldn’t work together anymore.

Or mostly get to know what she even did for work anymore.

She wasn’t even entirely sure how much she could still keep Tina in the loop, as much as she might wish to. She didn’t have any reason to be particularly suspicious of Agent Pierson, the woman the Agency had sent to spy on Tina from within the station. But as much as she trusted Tina —with her secrets but also to take care of herself— she worried that the balm of having a confidant who was just hers was no longer truly available to her, at least not in the way it had been. Part of that fear, she knew, came from knowing she couldn’t reveal that the so-called new officer was not exactly who she seemed. In all likelihood, the whole arrangement probably really was for Tina’s safety, and probably nothing to worry about, but…Holland still felt like she was lying to her. And not the kind of lying she was comfortable with.

A liar and a coward, she thought as she sat at her desk, chin propped in her hands. She felt that constricting weight begin to settle against her, her skin too tight along her bones, and jerked to her feet again before that melancholia could curl catlike into her lap and trap her there.

She supposed it was useful that everyone had become so inured to her abrupt comings and goings from the station; no one bothered to look up as she walked out into the bright heat of the midday sun, its sticky warmth blanketing her body after a morning spent in the over-conditioned chill of the station’s air.

—

She ended up back in her apartment more out of habit than any real desire to be there. For a while, she found herself drifting, unmoored and aimless, between rooms. She should try to rest, she knew that, knew that if she could sleep she would feel better.

These days, though, she too often found herself reaching for sleep only to close her fist around endless, empty time.

She tried to read, to lose herself in another universe for a while, but gave up after she realized that while she’d technically read a whole chapter, she had no idea what had happened in it.

She thought about playing guitar but figured if she couldn’t focus on reading, she probably wouldn’t fare much better at making anything that sounded like music instead of discordant strumming.

Plus she was already bored of sitting still in the empty quiet of her apartment.

Pushing herself off her window seat, Holland strode to her dresser and tugged out shorts and a sports bra. Experience had taught her long ago that she couldn’t outrun her own brain, but at least she could tire her body enough that she was forced to sleep, at least a little.

—

Because she was already tired, it took longer than usual to find her pace, especially without any music to give her a cadence she could match. In deference to safety, she’d decided against headphones; probably a wise choice — definitely a wise choice, she reminded herself, hardly a choice at all unless she decided to start actively courting disaster — but one that did nothing to lessen the weight of that heaviness that kept pulling at her, brutal and swift as a rip current. Still, after three miles, she felt some of the tension in her body ebb, some of that near-constant tightness in her chest yielding its grip enough for breathing to come easier, deep and steady draughts of air filling her lungs.

For a long while, there was only the blessed gentle warmth of summer air, the quiet scraping thump of her sneakers against the sidewalk, and the pleasant ache of her muscles stretching and contracting. Slowly, mile after mile, she felt her body become less foreign, each pounding step bringing it closer to the skin and bones and thudding heart that she recognized as her own. Felt each clenching beat of that too-human muscle in her chest insisting it was where it belonged, safe within its cage of bone and flesh. Felt the reassurance that her heart hadn’t been torn from her chest and left, raw and bleeding, outside her body.

No matter how it might feel lately.

A liar and a coward.

The sharp dig of a knife between her ribs, the claws of that familiar tightness latching into her chest again, and—

Breathe.

She sucked in air with a sharp gasp, forced her lungs to expand, to draw air in and in and in until she could feel those claws retract.

Until she felt the thought she’d almost had, the one she still hadn’t let herself articulate even within her own mind, retract with them.

Another kind of lie. Another thing she was too much of a coward to confront.

Holland sucked in another breath, letting the sultry weight of that summer air fill her, fill all the cold, empty spaces that lurked within her. Let the warmth of it incinerate the other unarticulated thoughts and shadows of memory before they could turn their baleful, accusatory eyes back toward her.

Turning her own gaze outward once more, she scanned her surroundings, squinting at a nearby street sign as she passed and trying to decide how much further until she really would need to loop back. Holland’s run had taken her well into the outskirts of town. It wasn’t her preferred route, which snaked through the woods near the Cornerstones and eventually toward the marina, but at least this route hadn’t taken her through Wayhaven proper. Or required her to skirt the station, as her usual path would have. Even if she was leaving — even if no one seemed to really notice or care whether she was, at any given moment, in her office these days — she still didn’t think running directly past the station in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon was necessarily appropriate.

So Holland found herself instead approaching the winding series of long hills that would eventually lead her toward the hospital. Her knees ached just thinking about those hills. None were particularly steep, but they stretched further than was typically noticeable in a car. On foot, though…no, it was probably past time for her to begin finding her way back home.

It had been a while since she’d been on a long run. A long while, actually, and she knew her legs would likely ache come morning, even with the shorter maintenance runs she tried to squeeze in whenever she could. Which had been no chance at all these past weeks, between work and what felt like an endless cycle of injury and suffocatingly long recovery. Indeed, she felt the muscles in her thighs protest as she crested one hill before veering right, toward the streets leading back into town. Oh, she would certainly feel the cost of this impromptu long run in the morning.

Although it might be a nice change, she supposed, if her body ached from something other than having the shit kicked out of her by Trappers. Or crumbling buildings. Or winged giants who caused said buildings to end up in pieces on top of her. And those were only some of the most recent aches.

She rolled her shoulders, shaking her arms to diffuse the pressing tension of that memory, her breath a sharp scrape against her throat.

Fine. She was fine. Despite the strain of these past months, she continued to be perfectly fine. Had gotten through everything that’d been thrown at her. Not entirely smoothly, certainly not effortlessly, but…she had gotten through it. Would continue to do so, perhaps with greater ease than before if her new role indeed provided increased training. She could handle it. She would handle it.

It was the same argument she’d given Nate after the auction, almost two weeks ago now. As to whether she believed it any more now than she had then…another thought she wasn’t ready to have yet.

I am in love with you, Holland.

Another familiar ache in her chest, one more bruise on her already battered heart. She shut down that train of thought, almost stumbling as she worked to redirect that particular train of thought. To shut out the image that flashed across her mind’s eye, of how Nate’s face had looked in that conversation. The way he’d looked at her, the agony that had streaked across his beautiful face, and how neatly and thoroughly it had eviscerated her.

That pain. That pain that she had caused.

I don’t know how this is going to work.

She’d had to remind herself how to breathe. Had to remind herself to breathe through the lashing pain of how much she’d hated herself for putting that look on his face. And for knowing that it would likely be far from the last time.

Because she didn’t know either.

She didn’t know how to avoid it, this hurting him. Didn’t know how to be an easier person to love.

And as for what she did know, what she’d suspected and quietly fretted over for weeks now…

That hideous weight tugged beneath her ribs and Holland sped up, pushing past the bleating tremor in her thighs, the burning ache in her chest. Pushed that thought out, out, out—

“Fuck!” The word was little more than a hiss as the world tipped and roiled and Holland went flying, elbows skidding and knees barking as she hit the pavement.

Between the subsequent string of violent curses and what remained of her pride, she supposed she was relieved to still be closer to the outskirts than the town center. If running past the station in the middle of a Tuesday was arguably inappropriate, the selection of words that flew out of her mouth as she eased to a seat on the ground was indisputably so.

She winced as she examined the shredded skin on her forearms, her knees. She hadn’t even fallen well: the most she’d done before splaying gracelessly on the street had been to land more on her arms than her hands. Not her first choice, or at least it shouldn’t have been, but at least she hadn’t broken her wrists. Or anything else, as far as she could tell, looking her latest batch of wounds over as she rose to her feet.

Holland hissed again as she gingerly flexed her left leg, which had borne the brunt of the impact and now sported angry red scrapes along her knee and halfway up her thigh. Just scrapes, but ones that stretched painfully when she bent her leg.

Swallowing another mouthful of curses, she pulled free the water bottle attached to her running belt, unstoppering it with her teeth before she squeezed a stream of water along first one leg, then the other, and then the smaller scrapes on her arms and elbows. They stung like all hell, but at least they looked slightly better with most of the dirt and grime rinsed away. Naturally, she’d forgotten to bother checking if she’d needed to restock the handful of bandages she usually kept in one of the belt’s pockets; naturally, she only unearthed one after fumbling through every goddamned pocket, the lone bandage too small to be of much use unless she fancied ripping adhesive off part of an open wound later.

She exhaled, sharp and impatient, and raked a hand over the sweat-dampened strands of hair that had broken free of her stubby ponytail and now lay plastered to her forehead.

No new scars indeed. She snorted as she recalled Nate’s words in that forest clearing, back before they’d even known what manner of myth hunted her. She doubted it had occurred to him that she’d likely continue to rack up scars earned through her own sheer stupidity. God, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

She drained the remains of her water bottle before slotting it back in its elastic holster at her hip. She toed the ground, wincing at her protesting kneecap, and considered. Depending on the route she took, she wasn’t that far from her apartment. The circuitous route she’d intended to follow was obviously out, but she could take a more direct one and be back relatively quickly. Walking, it would take…she did the math, frowning. Walking back, assuming she kept her regular pace, would likely take her the better part of two hours. She stretched her legs again, shifting experimentally from one foot to the other. She was hurt, yes, but it was definitely only superficial, and not so bad she couldn’t probably run home as well as she could walk. Running would be faster, even with what would certainly be a much slower pace. Would likely cut the return time in half, actually, though she knew it would hurt. Of course, it would hurt to walk home, too.

Holland’s shoulders sagged. Since she’d stopped moving, her body had started to register physical exhaustion, had begun to grow heavy with it, and she wanted to be home. Wanted a shower and her bed and a different kind of silence than the kind that felt like a scream.

She did have another option, some small part of her mind pointed out before she shut that thought out, too. Technically, the warehouse, where she had a bed and a shower and certainly less silence, was a bit closer to her current location than her own apartment. However begrudgingly, Holland had to admit the thought tempted her. Tempted her more when she thought of the magic-imbued salve, leftover from what had been her most recent batch of injuries, stashed in a bathroom cabinet. To say nothing of the vampire whose mere presence soothed her more than any medicine.

Her frown deepened. She was tired of showing up at the warehouse battered and bloody. Really goddamned tired of it.

She straightened, rolling her shoulders and breathing deep. Her apartment wasn’t that far, and it was only a skinned knee. Well, two skinned knees, actually, and her elbows, but…

Holland released that deep breath and set off, a tentative jog while she found her new pace, toward the town center and her apartment beyond.

She didn’t much feel like reminding anyone how easily she broke apart.

#this is so maudlin lmao sorry #she's not having a great time #katie writes things #twc book 3 spoilers #twc spoilers #twc fics #oc: holland townsend #ship: your entire heart

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namazunomegami · 18 days

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gosh i really love your geto stuff and i'm super glad i followed you bc then you put??? the heatwave fic on my dash?? and i???

like that's IT that's the VIBE that is MY BRAND that is my absolute favorite kind of yandere/dark relationship trope ever. so many people writing yandere!geto are locked into this exact frequency and i LOVE IIIT

so much compassion and affection and understanding. geto who knows you like the back of his own hand, knows how you tick, how to get any kind of reaction he wants out of you.

does he use this for good? for evil? YES!! all the genuinely well-meant gestures still come with a dose of condescending mother-knows-best and it's WORSE because the fact that he knows you so well, can tell you what you're thinking and how you're feeling, it lends all the more credence to the idea that he really is RIGHT.

you are his obsession. his little bug trapped in a terrarium and he is just so excited to see how you'll grow. you won't outgrow him; he controls your entire world, he will become your entire world.

the best cage is one that you don't want to escape. if you're trying to leave, he's doing it wrong! and he'll fix it right away but the dark terrible foundation will still be there.

augh. absolutely delicious. it makes for so much intensity and investment from the characters. even ordinary reactions leave you at the edge of your seat because both people in the relationship are hyperfixated and overanalyzing every last gesture, and they're RIGHT to!! it really DOES mean something because the other person is crazy obsessed, too!

like your fic where the reader runs away and geto just silently takes them back and you're just waiting for the hammer to fall... waiting. and that's exactly what geto is doing to the reader in the fic. absolute PEAK fiction. love this stuff!!! every word of it!!!

OMG!!

OH SHIT!

You have absolutely no idea how I just teared up reading all that! Honestly it means so much to me. Come here, let me give you a kith, mwah, mwah 💕

I suppose the heatwave fic is Mélange? Whatever, I'm glad you liked it and I plan to write more aphrodisiac/sex pollen fics in the future because I LOVE this trope so much. You can basically give me any character and I can come up with a plot where the character gets sex pollened lmao.

(Funny thing is, I didn't really read aphrodisiac fics before I started writing Mélange, it was my best friend who told me that I kinda subverted the trope because in most cases it's the reader who's affected by some horny substance. But I'm gonna keep my fics that way because the characters I simp for are a bit repressed emotionally and it's entertaining to write them feral.)

I think I mentioned this before, but I'm not deliberately writing Geto as a yandere. It just sorta happens. I finish a fic, reread the whole thing and "whoops, he's a yandere". But Geto cares a lot about others, sorcerers in general, Gojo, Shoko, Nanami, the twins, his makeshift family, he just wants to keep them safe but the execution of that... a bit radical, a bit absolutist, let's just say it's not the healthiest. But this aspect of his personality makes it easy to write him as a yandere.

I have some other wips where I try my best to tone it down but then the reader is the obsessive one in the dynamic lol. Like in my egyptian mythology au, he's just a guy (well, a solar deity), he's just there and tries to unravel reader's conflicting love-hate feelings towards him. And the dilf!Geto fic... oh boy, reader is borderline crazy.

In fact, I love everything you mentioned and let me add, reader and Geto in Into the Void + Atonement has a very detailed lore, enough to write a whole prequel fic but instead, I use certain elements and scenes I came up with in other fics. If I would've included the whole story it just hinders the buildup, disturbs the plot etc. But I share some important details with you 💕

Ofc, the reason they know each other on such an intimate level is because well... they know each other for at least 12 years if we look at the canon events and timeline. Reader is obviously not amongst the heavy hitters, their cursed technique is basically just tracking cursed energy. They're like a walking GPS, a locator app and... idk, I think they call them sniffdogs? Scent tracking dogs? Whatever... basically just give reader any kind of residual and they can track the source of it.

You may ask... why isn't reader using their cursed technique when they try to get away from Geto in order to know his exact location? The answer is plot convenience.

I can see several instances where reader was kinda mocked by others for being useless in battle (maybe by Gojo himself because at that time he has zero social awareness) and Geto had to intervene in order to explain that such a technique is actually quite valuable because it saves a lot of time and effort to locate a curse or a curse user. But that means that the heavy hitters must keep reader safe or at least very far from the battlefield.

Reader's parents are also non-sorcerers. So they had at least one thing they can get connected over. And in both fics I refer to that reader's parents were quite abusive and neglectful. It resulted in reader being starved for connection (hence the cursed technique's nature itself), a kind of inability to trust in others, receive and accept comfort and they’re very hyperaware of their surroundings. And Geto, who cares so much about his fellow students might have tried to change their perspective or offer some comfort and reader could have noticed when he was spiraling and do the same thing for him.

And then it just makes sense for me that reader was sent to track down Geto when he massacred the village to save the twins. And in that moment, reader is just head over heels, they view this whole mass murder as a sacrifice, revenge, a pay back for all the abuse that the twins have been through and instead of despising him, they find it comforting and even just. And then just dips with him and the girls.

So I guess their relationship had a promising start, but I believe that none of the sorcerers are capable to maintain a healthy relationship and it all boils down to the "hurt people hurt people" thing. And doing this whole cult thing makes them overmystifying each other, they no longer view themselves as regular people, more like ideas, mythological characters and such. The whole setting just twists them.

I know that culturally it would be more fitting to use characters from buddhism but there’s no such yearning and glorified suffering than in christianity.

And let me tell you, I like putting Geto into situations where he must fight for control with the reader. Like even in these fics, even during the smut they just want to control the other and willing to use anything for achieving it.

Btw, sorry for all the rambling. I just love seeing people trying to interpret my works and I like sharing some hidden details so you can come here anytime if you want to talk about them or my wips 💗 Hopefully I can start working on some wips soon, but currently I have to deal with a lot of personal issues and finals and all that kinda stuff so I'm just tired all the time. Big thank u for leaving this in my inbox, hope you have a wonderful day 💗

#asks #you’re just a wonderful person I hope you know that

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f0point5 · 8 months

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HELLLOOO IM IN LOVE W YOUR SMAU and also how you see the drivers is very similar to how i do too!

disclaimer: i do not know these people. how i perceive them is strictly my own opinion and the image of them in my mind is something built from what i’ve seen them say/do in public. i won’t ever pretend to actually know them. what i think of them are probably two dimensional characters in comparison to the real people. i just like profiling/psychoanalyzing people sometimes but i won’t actually say how i see them are how they truly are.

im a max and charles girlie (and oscar too, but i digress) and the way you’ve portrayed them or spoken about them is so much like what i’ve been thinking. what was it about charles you said? something along the lines of ‘he shows enough of himself so that people won’t actually know him’ and that the way people see him is how he wants them to see him. also how he stays neutral whether from his own need to stay ‘good’ or from self-preservation (or both). i’ve just never seen many (if any) people other than myself (and you) point it out. because to me it’s so very clear that he’s maintained this sort of image that’s so likable and lovable that it’s easy to buy into it. he’s a tough nut to crack i think, other than the other points you’ve mentioned (not being able to stay alone, etc). the way he approaches things, it’s actually so difficult to know what goes on inside his head when not in very obvious situations (ie disappointment/anger/sadness after a race). his perpetually ‘good’ and neutral persona makes it nearly impossible to see what he thinks about certain things. yes, he has his tells, but again he’s very self-aware and in control of how he presents himself, and he’s great at reading people too to top it off, and so he can decide which words best to use and which way to best avoid certain conversations. of course that is not to say he is manipulative etcetc, just that he knows what he has and he knows what people want.

this is a stark contrast to max, which is interesting because he’s much more private about his personal life than charles is. with charles he’s so lovely all the time that one might think ‘you can’t possibly be this way all the time can you?’. not in a way that doubts his kindness, only that he comes off as surreal and therefore untouchable/unattainable.

max on the other hand, while pr trained (bc ofc they all are) is very transparent, in a way charles can’t (or won’t) be. he’s venomous when he’s pushed to the limit and he bites his tongue constantly from holding back (which you can so clearly see when he does, because there’s an energy that surrounds him that makes you want to take a step back even though he says/does nothing to show agression). his kindness and the way he shows his love is equally as palpable. have you seen his hugs? the way he smiles and looks at other people right after telling a joke before he can laugh too? when he shows this side of him he gives it so freely, so openly, there’s no room for question whether it was genuine or cordial. when he shows love he gives it wholly. i don’t think i’ve seen it any other way. i sometimes think maybe that’s the only way he knows how to.

that charles, who spends more time in the public eye than max ever did/does/ever will, is more unpredictable than max, is all that more interesting to me.

about oscar, i think he’s so similar to max. they’re both direct and cheeky, they’re very witty and sarcastic in a lighthearted tongue-in-cheek way, they’re not caught up in any stories of legacy or image (next schumacher, next senna, next hamilton, etc). there’s no dream to be realized other than their own. and this separates them from quite a number of the drivers on the grid. they want to race and they want to win; anything outside of that like politics, media, well, they can all piss off. but while they don’t appreciate the extra elements that come in the formula one package (being in the spotlight, having to do activities that have nothing to do with racing, etc) they know how to have fun with it. they don’t gaf and that’s what makes them so entertaining. of course this is only oscar’s first year in f1, so we haven’t seen much of his personality when in circumstances that are less than favorable (which… i have to say max has had plenty of) and i’ve seen how he was during f2 and he’s pretty much stayed the same, coolheaded silly guy. we might just get to see him be more and more agressive though, because after japan, and also the several other times he’d ended up losing out on a podium. idk i mean how patient can one be before thinking ‘hey, enough of this now,’ (no hate to lando ofc thats the bff i love him). i’ll be seated for that day is all i’m saying.

oh and they have similar preferences too in food and neither likes to dance and it’s just so funny to me bc they’re such an unlikely pair?? the way they do media activities too for content is hilarious they obviously don’t want to be there, but the differing quality is that max probably thinks ‘okay, i don’t want to be here, so let’s get it over with and have fun with it too’ (ie. make the people making him do these things regret it. the menace.) while oscar just wants to go home or go racing. there may just be a change in that though, because we’ve seen lando help him get used to the environment and be more open compared to the start of the season when he was still quiet and came off as shy/boring.

okay that’s it i’m done sorry for writing an essay in your anon asks have fun reading.

i also have a blast just going through your answers bc you’re always so articulate with them and it’s easy to tell you spent time thinking it through!

I agree with you about Charles, except for one tiny caveat. I don’t think he comes across so nice that no one could be that nice all the time. I think they probably could be, I just think he probably isn’t. He is a pretty aggressive driver, has been all the way through, raced Max hard in karting and very hard in cars, no way that guy is the type to just say “it’s like this” and breathe heavily and go home and do the same thing there. And that’s not a bad thing at all, he should be allowed to have his work face and go home and be himself. The funny thing with Charles is that it seems like he doesn’t want to acknowledge that that’s his work face. He seems to want people to think that they’re engaging with his whole personality. As I said, I think he just feeds the para social relationship, which is partly why his fans are so passionate but also so entitled to his time and personal space/life (not all, but I do feel that his fans find him more accessible than other drivers eg. Touching, grabbing, crowding him, turning up at his home etc).

I agree about Max. He just seems like he won’t bother to hide how he feels unless he feels there’s a proper reason, PR or media be damned. And good for him, but I think he can do that because he is so used to shutting out everyone’s opinions except his own. In order for criticism not to completely break you, you have to shut yourself off from other’s people’s opinion of you, which means neither their dislike nor their praise will make any difference to you. I think you can see that’s Max’s survival mode, because a father like he had will crush you if you don’t start compartmentalising really fast. I think Max knows the he knows what he’s doing and everyone else can pull up a chair or exit the theatre, he doesn’t care which.

I feel like maybe Oscar is similar, but it comes from a different place. I just get the feeling that Oscar has been on his own a lot. I don’t know why I think that, but he carries himself like a kid who flew on his own at 8 years old. I think he went to boarding school as a teen as well which would make sense to him because he does have boarder vibes to me. Like, he’s used to putting all his ducks in a row in his own, he doesn’t need or want much attention. I feel like he doesn’t lap up the attention from Zak the same way Lando does because he almost doesn’t need that mentoring that most young men would. I just feel like he’s fully cooked as a personality. And I think his personality is just a straightforward, funny guy, probably the type to only come out of his shell with a few people, and those people are definitely not the Instagram followers lol. I’m interested to see if his racing personality becomes more outwardly aggressive, but I also think he/McLaren might know the game they’re playing and he’s just biding his time. If they’re still undercutting him in 2025 I think the gloves will come up but I also don’t think they will be. I think he’ll become a more spicy wheel to wheel racer in time but I also think he’s doing the right thing not making enemies (except Carlos) in his rookie season.

I hope you enjoy going through this one!

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vincord · 1 year

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I really love you TordMatt drawings! Do you have any headcaons for them?

I think that in my texts, which I published here from time 2 time, it was possible to discern my thoughts about them. But yeah! I think it will be interesting to write something else about them, given that there are thoughts in my head that I couldn’t find the right moment to voice :] ___

They are very tactile. Physical, touch, movement > abstract and non-physical, words, promises and so on. Even if in the early years one of them could be talkative, the main emphasis was still on the physical expression of feelings.

I like to think that Tord acts as support for Matt at times when it comes to looks. In adolescence, they would hardly communicate, because Matt would try to stay away from all people in general due to his worries about appearance. Later, this will turn into irritation, anger, aggression and misunderstanding. "Why do others live happily while I have to go through something like this"

I think he and Tord had a rather strained relationship at first, and Matt would probably have killed him at night, if only he had not had to report to Edd later and explain all this. But after a while, they still managed to find a common language. Like, desire for power or control over someone, "treasure?" which they once said. They sit on the porch or on the roof and smoke. The clock shows midnight and it's deep night outside. Both are dressed in black.

Tord really likes to watch anime, and Matt at this time sits next to him with an unhappy face, because he does not understand at all how someone can like this (he himself will become interested in anime as soon as he sees a lonely and gloomy character on the screen, which extols themself above and better than everyone, pushing everyone else away from themself, but in fact they are very afraid of loneliness and wants to be loved, but crushes these feelings in themself. Matt never admits this to Tord)

OOOOOOOOOOH AND WTFUTURE WTFUTURE YAAYYY!!!

In the future, they talk even less than they used to. I mentioned in one of my texts that this is due to Matt's artificial jaw, as because of it, he can no longer speak clearly and clearly, emitting something incoherent instead. I mean, it's just a metal artificial part from the skull. There is no skin or muscles there, which means that he will not be able to pronounce letters that require a certain position of the lips either. Therefore, the manifestation of feelings in a physical way began to be much more important for them than in their youth. Now it is almost literally their only way to interact.

And maybe Matt would slowly learn sign language so he could interact with other people without using speech.....

It can be said that Matt would return to the state in which he was at a young age (even before Tord left for the first time). He moves away from the outside world and bad thoughts into paperwork, spreadsheets, physical training and so on, which Tord, who remembers the past, doesn’t like at all. And if Tord is busy and cannot stop Matt in time by sending him to sleep, he asks Paul, Patryck or Tom (he doesn’t have the best relationship with Matt, but this post is not about that) to do it instead of him.

And, ofc, Matt is very clingy when he and Tord are alone. He just clings to his arm or hugs him tightly, snuggling up, afraid that he will be left alone.

Tord showers kisses on Matt's face while holding his hands, because those are Matt's most vulnerable spots. He just wants Matt to feel loved again.

And i would like to talk about cute nicknames/pet names too! They just don't use it :) Tord uses the full form of Matt's name in particularly private and intimate moments, or when trying to calm him down, or to show his affection. This is enough for Matt, because, as I wrote earlier, words mean little to him in wtfuture.

Tord is just happy when Matt calls him by his name, instead of "Sir" or "Red Leader". Matt tries to maintain an exclusively working relationship because of all his traumas, fears and worries that he is so desperately trying to suppress and ignore. He has gone so far from the outside world and himself into work that the moments when he himself breaks this wall between him and Tord a little, Tord appreciates incredibly much. ___

I didn't write anything about TordMatt in the "legacy" because I didn't think much of it. Nevertheless, according to the canon, Matt erased his memory and doesn't remember Tord at all, so Tord is forced not only to start everything from scratch (he sits on the bed, hunched over and covering his face with his hands, and thinks whether it is worth starting everything from scratch at all), but and start from scratch with a completely different person, because this is not the Matt he once left. I mean, Tord is trying and he's glad that Matt confided in him so easily, feeling comfortable around him, but he keeps hoping to hear at least something sarcastic from the redhead.

At times I like to think that they are married in the future, but let's face it, it's TOO sweet. They just aren't ready for something like that yet </3

Thank you very much for asking me about headcanons!!!!!

#eddsworld #ew matt #ew tord #tordmatt #mattord #wtfuture #vncrd's text

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welcometomyoasis · 4 months

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idk but like my standard is on thE GROUND so. anyone willing to understand me and still love me and give me cuddles and know like the basics abt me and im like gone. and this is gonna get really deep and shi but like honestly do you belive in like true romantic love? because i thought i did but i dont, because divorce and SA rates are at their peak and like yeah. :( thats why i love reading romance and watching romcoms. i can never do angst cuz there's enough angst in life so yk

sorry for the deep talk but idk you seem like a really cool person and it feels easy to talk to you!! but!!! i do believe in platonic love so!!! youre doing great!!!

-🌱

hello my dear 🌱 anon, my full reply under the cut because it's very long 😅 and also because warnings: talks about SA and toxic relationships.

same? because i'm so introverted that i really don't talk to anyone irl. it's just the fact that a person might be remotely interested and i'm just completely infatuated with them. really a terrible way of liking someone... just saying from personal experience...

honestly, i'm not sure if true romantic love exists. i used to think that it did, but now i'm kind of on the fence about it. you see, like you said, there's divorce and the SA rates are sky high, though i do believe that there are a whole bunch of other different factors that lead to those things besides love. eg. right time, wrong person or right person, wrong time. then there's toxic relationships and situations where people mistake love for obsession? and ofc there's that whole thing about lust vs love. like did you love the person because they made you happy physically? or did you love the person in their entirety.

in my opinion love (in general) is just a very complex thing. so on the other hand, when it comes to true romantic love, there might be very rare cases where it does exist. in those cases, to me there's a need to really pinpoint and distinguish what is it about the person that you love. and i do believe that true romantic love comes with selfless/ unconditional love, love that comes with the acceptance that you will need to make certain compromises and sacrifices. there's a need to just accept the other, flaws and all. it's not necessarily about pushing their flaws to one side and disregarding them? rather it's taking that those flaws are part of who they are and addressing them when necessary. that kind of love comes with being vulnerable with each other, revealing the aspects of yourself that you are most uncomfortable with. it shows how deep the trust is. it's also about working through whatever comes your way. idk whether this makes sense haha. but yea, that's my opinion of it.

i get you on liking the romcoms and stuff. i do prefer angst (in fact i'm writing angst right now haha) but yea, sometimes all we need is fluffy love stories to drown out whatever angst there is in real life.

ALSO PLEASE. I LOVE DEEP TALKS. you can talk to me anytime you want. 🤭 i'm literally smiling so much rn thank you for thinking of me. it's really easy to talk to you too! i have so many opinions on love honestly... idk... are you peaking into my drafts because i was looking into the 7 types of greek love for a fic...

side note: i absolutely believe in platonic love as well. i think the greek word for it is philia? yea i had a whole conversation about it with my friend the other day... it's about deep genuine connections and love between friends. people always confuse it with eros and stuff but that's a whole other problem.

anyway. YOU'RE ALSO DOING GREAT MY LOVELY 🌱 ANON! ILY!

#letters for shu ✏༝༚༝༚#anons ✮⋆˙#🌱 anon ✮⋆˙

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middleearthpixie · 2 months

Text

Brilliant Disguise ~ Chapter Twenty-Five

Both Sophie and Thorin are haunted by their pasts and are uncertain of their futures, but sometimes, chances must be taken…

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x OFC Josephine (Sophie) Asharm

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard

@legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being

@rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-mer-6195 @sherala007 @enchantzz

@knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell

@jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321

@dianakc @msjava1972 @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith

@asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

@night-ace

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Thorin heard the laughter coming from the paddock before he reached it and as he drew near and caught sight of Heather astride a pony on her own, he stopped in his tracks. Her silvery laughter rang out across the open field, mingling with Fíli’s and for a moment, Thorin envied the peace, the innocence, that surrounded Heather. She never need know what happened to her father, other than he’d not frighten her again, that he’d not ever lay another angry hand upon her again.

He only regretted that he had not been the one to let Asharm know exactly what he thought of men who raised fists to women or children. Still, not being able to do that was a small price to pay, since Sophie had taken care of Asharm for once and for all. He would never trouble them again.

With that, he crossed to the fence, where he found Dís watching as well and she looked up as he leaned on the rail alongside her. “Is everything all right?”

He nodded slowly. “It is now.”

“Good.” The beads in her braids clicked against one another. “Dwalin said you went into Esgaroth? There was an accident on the Long Lake?”

“There was, and that is all I will say about it.”

Another soft clatter of stones. “So, will Mrs. Asharm be remaining with us here?”

“I think so, yes.”

“And will you make an honest woman of her?”

“Dís.”

“That little girl needs a father.” Dís nodded in Heather’s direction. “Are you prepared to step up into that role?”

“I rather thought I already had.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do, and yes.”

“Kíli is planning to depart for Mirkwood in the coming days. He plans to formally ask Tauriel for her hand.”

Thorin bit back his grin. “And how do you feel about this?”

“An elf, Thorin. She is an elf.”

“I know.”

“But she’s also the reason he is alive today.” Dís looked over at him. “How do I deny him my blessing when I know she truly cares for him?”

“I don't suppose you can.”

“So, it seems I will have an elf daughter-in-law and a sister-in-law who is of Man. Our family is growing interesting.”

He chuckled, his gaze going back to Heather, who was listening intently to whatever Fíli was saying. “Erebor’s princess is also of Man.”

“I like her, Thorin. I like both of them.” She looked over at him again. “And I think they will both be happy here.”

“I hope so. And do not worry about Kíli. He knows what he is doing. And Tauriel is a fine match for him. They’ll be happy.” He glanced over at Heather, and then turned back to his sister. “Would you prefer it if I went with him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I think Fíli is going with him and they will be fine.”

“Have you spoken to Dwalin?”

“Thorin.”

“Oh, am I overstepping?” He turned to her, resting one arm on the topmost slat of the fence. “He’s miserable without you, you know. What did he do, that you’re angry with him?”

“He did nothing. And I thought we were discussing Kíli.”

“We were, and we’ve both come to the conclusion that he’s grown and of age to decide for himself who to take as a bride. And since we’ve straightened out my love life as well, that leaves yours as the only one in disarray. So, give over and tell me or at least tell him and put the lad out of his misery.”

“He told me about his outing with Mrs. Asharm, when she first came here.”

Thorin smiled even as his gut kinked as well. “It was nothing, you know. They shared not even a kiss.”

“I know, but…” She sighed softly, shaking her head. “She is stunning. How do I compete with that?”

“Dis, there is no competing with her. He is not interested in her.”

“Because of his friendship with you.”

“No, he knows who his One is, Dís. And it is not Sophie. So, now that you know this, will you at least talk to him?”

“I have spoken with him, Thorin. He wishes to marry.”

This was news to him. “He does?”

“Aye. He asked me last eve.”

“He never said a word to me.”

“I told him no.”

“Wait… what? The two of you have been dancing about each other since we returned here, both wanting the same thing, but neither one having the courage to speak up, and when he does, you turn him down?”

“I’m too old, Thorin. Too old and set in my ways and I have my boys to think of.”

“Nonsense,” he told her flatly, pushing away from the fence. “They are boys no more, Dís, and do not use them as your excuse. And as for being too old? You are an entire decade younger than me. Am I too old to think about a new life?”

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, you’re the king. Your duty is to marry and produce an heir.”

“Nonsense. Fíli is my heir since there is no guarantee Sophie and I will be blessed with children of our own. Again, stop making excuses.”

“Even so.”

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

He nodded. “Do you love him? Because I’m fairly certain he loves you, Dís. So, do you love him?”

“I—I don't know. Perhaps. It’s been a long time, Thorin. I don't know… I don't know if I can open myself to that again. Vili was—he—he was… I thought he was my One.”

“I thought Elmaya was my One,” he replied softly. “I think perhaps even Mahal might make a mistake every now and again.”

“You did not have children with her, though.”

“No. I did nothing with her, aside from a few stolen kisses. But, Vili also would not want you mourning him if you had a chance to be happy, either.”

Dís turned her gaze back to Fíli and Heather, now both trotting back toward the stables on their respective mounts. “She’s quite the horsewoman. It won’t be long before she’ll be asking for a pony of her own.”

“Yule is coming.”

As if on cue, the first snowflakes of the season began to fall and Dís smiled as she looked up at him. “I do love him, Thorin. But… it’s frightening.”

“It is,” he nodded as Fíli and Heather disappeared into the stable, then he turned to his sister, “but it’s worth it in the end. Go talk to him. Before too much time passes and you end up regretting your silence.”

“Now I know why you hate when I butt in,” she told him with a smile. “But, thank you. And will you be taking your own advice?”

“I will,” he replied. “But first I need to speak with a certain little girl and see how she feels about my asking Sophie for her hand.”

Dís’ pale blue Durin eyes sparkled. “What if she says no?”

“I’ll bribe her with chocolate cake until she says yes.”

She chuckled with him for a moment, but then her expression grew serious. “You will be a wonderful father, you know. To Miss Heather and to any children Mahal sees fit to bless you and Sophie with. I’ve always thought so, and now I look forward to seeing it.”

“Thank you, Dís. That means the world to me.” He leaned over to press his forehead to hers. “And I think you and Dwalin will surprise each other to no end when you finally both stop being so blasted stubborn.”

“Rather like you and Mrs. Ash—I mean, Sophie?”

“Exactly.”

“Mister Thorin! It’s snowing!”

He grinned, stepping away from the fence as Heather bolted toward him, catching her easily when she launched herself at him. “Mimûna, you will not be happy until to knock me over, will you?”

She let out a peal of silver laughter, wrapping her arms about his neck. “That’s silly! You’re a giant!”

Dís offered up a knowing smile. “You don't hear that often, do you, Thorin?”

“I do not. And it’s fine if Miss Heather thinks so.”

Heather leaned away from him to turn her pearly smile to Dís. “You look so pretty today, Lady Dís.”

“Why thank you, love,” Dís replied, tweaking one of Heather’s curls. “You are turning into quite the horsewoman.”

“Indeed she is,” Fíli replied as he joined them, tousling Heather’s hair gently. “I volunteered you to ride with her whilst I’m gone, Uncle. I told her you are almost as good a horseman as I am.”

“That was generous of you,” Thorin replied dryly.

“Kíli is going to the woods.” Heather turned back to him. “Where is that?”

“Mirkwood? It’s not far from here. Across the Long Lake and down the river a bit. Perhaps when you are older, we can travel there and I can introduce you to their king, Thranduíl. A fussy little wood sprite with leaves in his hair.”

“In his hair?”

Dís chuckled. “A fussy little wood sprite, indeed. Very well, Thorin, I will leave you and this lovely young lady to talk. Fíli, would you walk me back? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

“Of course. Until tomorrow, Miss Heather.” Fíli caught one of Heather’s hands in his and brushed the back of it with a playful kiss.

She giggled and drew her hand back. “That tickles! Bye, Fífi. Bye, Lady Dís.”

“Enjoy the snow,” Dís replied, tucking her arm through Fíli’s to allow him to escort her away from the paddock.

Snow swirled harder around them now and Heather blinked like mad as she peered up into it, her cheeks already rosy from the cold. “Can we play in the snow, Mister Thorin?”

“Perhaps later. There isn’t quite enough on the ground for playing just yet.” He shifted her slightly. “And there is something I needed to speak with you about. Something very serious.”

Her eyes widened. “Serious?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Am I in trouble?”

She asked it so earnestly, her expression suggesting she feared his answer would be yes. He smiled, shaking his head. “No, Miss Heather. You are not in trouble. I promise.”

“Good. I thought I was.”

“Not at all.”

She leaned away from him, bringing her hands up to curve against his cheeks. “Is something wrong? You look sad.”

“Nothing is wrong, mimûna and I am not sad. It is simply I am in a serious sort of mood at the moment.”

He carried her away from the paddock, toward the walled courtyard off the infirmary. Snow fell harder now, softly swirling this way and that to coat the trees, the ground, in a layer of pure white that glowed as if lit from a moon hidden behind the clouds. The silence accompanying it was some of the most peaceful silence Thorin had ever heard and for the first time since learning of Sten Asharm’s existence, Thorin felt the weight lift from his shoulders. Sophie was free.

He glanced down at the little girl in his arms. Heather was safe. They were both safe.

“Mister Thorin?”

“Yes, mimûna?”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You’re very quiet. Mama gets quiet when she is sad.” Heather leaned away from him. “But you said you aren’t sad.”

“Just the opposite, love. I’m not sad at all. I’m actually quite happy.” He drew several wayward curls away from her face and then traced his finger along her cheek. “What about you, mimûna? Are you happy?”

She nodded. “I like it here.”

“And I like having you here. You and your mother. Would you be happy living here?”

Another nod. “I would. I’d miss Gimli if I had to go. And Mister Fífi. And Lady Dís.” Her eyes grew serious. “And I’d miss you, too…”

“I’d miss you as well, you know,” he told her softly. “Might I ask you a serious question?”

“A serious one?” Heather’s eyes went round. “How serious?”

“Very serious.”

She thought about it for a moment, then slowly nodded. “You can.”

His stomach tossed slightly, and he would have laughed at his own nervousness, if not for the fact that he genuinely valued what this one little girl would think about what he asked. “You know, I’m glad you and your ’amad came here, right?”

She nodded. “And I’m glad we did, too.”

“Good.” He smiled, giving her a gentle squeeze. “In the time that you’ve both been here, I’ve… I mean to say that I… well… Well… I love you. Both you and your mother. Very much, in fact. And I’d like you to both stay. Would you like to stay here, Miss Heather?”

She nodded again. “You just asked me that, Mister Thorin.”

“Right, I did, didn't I? I’m so sorry, mimûna, for I am nervous.”

“Nervous?”

He nodded. “Nervous.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like scared.”

“But you’re a king. Kings don't get scared.”

“They do indeed get scared from time to time. And you would be amazed at the reasons why.”

“Why are you scared?”

He gave her another gentle squeeze. “Your mother has become very important to me, you know. But you are also important to me. And I was wondering how you feel, if I were to ask her to marry me.”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Would you be upset if I did?”

His heart beat faster as she stared at him for a long moment, but then she smiled and shook her head. “No, Mister Thorin. But—”

She clamped her lips together, her brows pulled low as if something very heavy weighed upon her mind. He held her away slightly. “What is it, mimûna?”

“Would that make you my… how do you say it?”

His heart sped up again. “’Adad?”

“Is that papa in dwarf?”

He nodded slowly. “It is, yes.”

“Would you be mine?”

“Would you like me to be your ’adad, raklûna?”

“Yes.”

She said it softly, but for Thorin, it was like being punched in the gut in the nicest way possible and unexpected tears pricked the backs of his eyes. “I’d like it as well, uzbadnâtha.”

Heather slipped her arms more tightly about his neck and hugged him and in return, he wrapped her tighter as well. When she whispered, “We’ll be a real family,” Thorin would swear he felt his heart actually melt.

“We will, indeed,” he told her, giving her yet another squeeze. “But, can you do me one very large favor?”

She leaned away from him again. “What?”

“I want to surprise your mother, so don’t let her know we’ve had this conversation until I’ve been able to ask her as well. Can you do that?”

“Keep a secret?”

He nodded. “Just for another day or so, though.”

“I can do that, Mister Thorin.”

“I knew you could.”

She beamed at him. “Mama will be so happy.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“She will. I promise.” Heather brought her hands to his cheeks, her fingertips moving lightly along his beard. “Bristly.”

“So you’ve said,” he chuckled.

“Mister Thorin, does this mean I can have a baby brother or sister?”

“Perhaps one day, mimûna. First, I need to ask your mother and we will take it from there.”

“I’d really like a baby brother.”

“We will see, love. We will see. But first, there’s one more thing I need to ask you.”

Heather’s eyes went wide. “What?”

He smiled. “Will you help me?”

She nodded, more serious than he’d ever seen her look. “I will.”

#The Hobbit #Thorin Oakenshield #Hobbit Fic #Hobbit Fanfic #Fan fiction #The Hobbit fan fiction #Thorin x OC #AU #Thorin Fic #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Richard Armitage

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ikemenomegas · 1 year

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Can I ask about Satoru kinks?

Ofc, answer when you'll have some more time 🧡

hi! yeah XD I got this when I was traveling so I did not have time. Thank you for your patience. I have been trying to answer this question myself for a very long time so you're finally forcing me to put words to paper T.T, we hate making decisions

Satoru isn't primarily "kinky" but he is adventurous and endlessly curious. In a way, it's easier to say what he won't try/hasn't liked...

Bondage is a no-go from a rational standpoint, Satoru also isn't that comfortable being in a vulnerable position he can't get out of. He does however like being able to get away and either being forced (read manhandled) or choosing not to.

Also not a fan of any kind of weapon play, they've just never struck him as romantic or sexual thing - he knows it can be sensual but he's always grown up with these kinds of things as tools to kill, it would make him uncomfortable for either him or you to put that next to one another's skin. Role playing something that needs a sword/other weapon dance though, that's hot and he'd be down to be either the audience or the dancer.

He likes for you to touch him, which means gloves are not a turn on for him, not unless they're coming off at some point.

Which leads into the first actual "kink". I think I've mentioned this before, but he likes the power dynamic of you wearing clothes and him not. It gives you access to as much of him as you can possibly reach. Even if he has to take a break and pull Infinity between you for a minute, it still lets him feel like he's present in an intimate moment with you.

I also don't think he's into degradation. He gets enough of people yelling and being annoyed with him in his work life. When he's with you, it feels good to be good for you, and to know that you approve, that there aren't wrong choices, there's someone listening to him and who he can listen to. He's kind of into dirty talk though - call him a messy boy, tell him what you're going to do to him right before you do it. Talking during sex also gives him a window in which to redirect things if he decides he needs them to go a different direction. Go along with him, he likes the push and pull.

If you start edging Satoru, you're going to find him trying to take control of the situation, unless you can convince him otherwise. Unlike at least one other certain character who prefers to ride the high as long as possible because he doesn't get a very acute sense of relief from coming, Satoru is not used to being denied, not used to waiting. Coming once makes him hungry for more, and even though he'll indulge you for the sake of listening to you, his obedience and patience aren't going to last long if you insist on bringing him to the edge without fulfillment too many times, and definitely not for the sake of torment. Satoru has found he rather enjoys overstimulation - the place where pleasure pushes even further into more, into more sensation, into finally sating his need for being both aware and comfortably drifting.

Other than that, I think he genuinely enjoys gentleness. It surprises him, the first time you are so delicate with him. He should be used to it, you're just like this. You wouldn't even hit him the first time he came at you telegraphing all intention to kill. But it's never denial. It's just a stepping aside, like the way you fight. It's parrying the sharp point of his wants, redirecting the force of him until you finally come at him head-on, meeting him and matching him. As much as he likes it though, the inherent vulnerability of allowing you to be gentle with him is disarming, often becomes too much.

When you're new to one another physically, he can latch onto the fact that your way of learning his body is also very much about you not wanting to do harm and wanting to make it good for him. Once you know him though, it's often uncomfortably overwhelming - he feels too exposed being "known". You learn to pepper in different paces and emotions so it's not always Satoru pulling away when you get too close to the underdeveloped, emotional part of him. He always wants it, that vaseline focus of yours, one of the few remaining places in your heart soft enough for him to lodge deep like a thorn, but he won't often let you give it to him. Sometimes though, just sometimes, that's the only thing he wants and needs and he finally lets you make love to him.

#ask answered #from the notebook #gojo satoru #nsft #io looking at another list going “what kinds of kinks exist in the world besides the ones I know”

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kats-kradle · 5 months

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hi hello hiiii 🥰 so... you wrote ze besstttt works on bouc/poirot stuff on ao3 and i remember we KINDA discussed with you in the comments upcoming movie SO hence the question:

your thoughts on A Haunting in Venice 👀👀

also thanks once again for your amazing works!!! truly the blessing 🙏

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEkabsmabamsbsn thank you for your kind words😭😭😭💖💖💖

I think the movie has been out long enough that I don’t need to worry about spoilers but just in case SPOILERS FOR A HAUNTING IN VENICE FOLLOWING

Short answer: eh. It was okay.

Long answer: (and I am sorry for the almost 1,000 words of an essay this is. I am sorry).

It’s been a few months since I’ve seen it which I think will be a good indicator as to what stuck with me and what didn’t. I immensely enjoy the way that Kenneth Branagh plays Poirot, so I loved that ofc. I knew nothing about Agatha Christie until Murder on the Orient Express came out so he was my first Poirot and I’ll always have a special place for him in my heart. I do think he plays some aspects of the character better than David Suchet, but David Suchet is a far superior Poirot. Anyways.

I was pleased with the tone of it because it was advertised more as purely horror but Kenny boy toed the line between extra creepy mystery and horror very well. I was also very relieved that there weren’t quite as many flashing lights as in the trailer😂 And of course since it’s Kenneth Branagh, the cinematography was AMAZING. Lots of Dutch angles tho which was strange. I thought it was interesting how Kenny touched more on Poirot’s PTSD, and as an angst/whump lover, it was delicious. The music was amazing. The story… not so much.

I think I’d have to watch it again to fully gather my thoughts on the story, but I went away with the impression that it moved too fast and was lacking a lot in certain areas. I didn’t see the twist coming at the end, but again, it was disappointing. Even my sister (who hasn’t read much Poirot) said that it didn’t seem very complex. And I love Kenneth Branagh but first and foremost Agatha is my girl. I have been known to reference her as my best friend at times. One of the things I enjoy most about Agatha Christie is that she puts like a minimum of 4 twists with the reveal, because she understood that once you reveal the killer, the story is over and most people will lose interest. And it tends to be underwhelming when the entire story has been building to a point that is over in three seconds. There were a few twists scattered through the movie, but ultimately if Kenny wanted to use a Christie book as source material, I think he should have stuck with her formula of hitting people with a bunch of twists at the end.

I did like how he kept the supernatural aspect ambiguous. I would have been foaming at the mouth in rage if he tried to make ghosts a canon part of the HPCU (Hercule Poirot Cinematic Universe). I didn’t like Oliver at all in this, which is a shame because I love her in all the Poirot books she’s in. I can tell what parts Christie is venting about writing through her which is really entertaining to me. But the actress who played her in A Haunting in Venice was… irritating. She had a lot of exposition to deliver, and while the script was tipping on the edge of having the exposition be clunky, I think a better actress would have been able to salvage it. She was so wooden. It was irritating.

For example, in Death on the Nile there’s this awkward introduction where Bouc is rattling off the names and motives of the wedding guests (which I have a problem with in itself. That movie is SO LONG and they introduce everyone in under 1 minute and then spend an hour getting to the murder part. Literally this clip is 53 seconds. Tom Bateman barely had time to breathe. Surely they could have introduced the characters in a better way with the HOUR of screen time they had before the murder). The scene is inherently clunky, and the writing is… not great. It sort of makes sense for Bouc to be telling Poirot who is who, but to give motives as well… not great.

youtube

But even with the awkward dialogue, Tome Bateman delivers the lines so smoothly that you can almost look past the weird writing.

Speaking of my boy Bouc, I was very disappointed that he wasn’t mentioned at all in A Haunting in Venice. He was a vital part of the other two movies, and up until this point in the HPCU, he has been in every Poirot movie. It’s my opinion that if you

1. Have a character appear in more than one movie

2. Have established that character as a very good close friend of the main character, in fact, the only person the main character can trust

3. You kill that character and show that his death had an impact on the main character

You should mention it in the next movie. And especially since it’s implied that Poirot gave up detective work completely after Bouc’s death (probably even because of Bouc’s death) and this is the first murder case he’s been involved with since… I just think it was a missed opportunity to not even reference him in passing. And especially since the movie was playing into Poirot’s PTSD; surely this is a scenario that would at least make him briefly think of his close friend who he lost the last time he was in this situation.

I am approaching the movie from the point of view of a diehard Agatha Christie fan and someone who enjoys critiquing any movie I watch, so I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as I make it out to be.

All in all, I would rank the movies as:

1. Murder in the Orient Express

2. A Haunting in Venice

3. Death on the Nile

I have so many issues with Death on the Nile that pretty much anything is going to be better than that. I wrote a whole essay about it for my English class.

Anyway if you made it this far congratulations😅😂😂 What were your thoughts about it?

#asks #poirot #death on the nile #murder on the orient express #a haunting in venice #I am sorry whenever someone mentions Poirot an uncontrollable urge to write essays about my feelings seizes me

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