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chococolte · 6 days

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Your sagau zhongli is my fave! Devotion is soooo good he's so good!! If he were offered a reward, what would he ask for? He definitely deserves good things for being such a dedicated worshipper

word count. 1.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, sagau + cult au shit, religious themes, g/n reader.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. hi guys......... sorry i took so long to write this, and im so happy you like my characterization of him!!!! it means so much to me!!!

Your praise.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted.

When he was young, still arrogant and born of war, Zhongli didn't want— he took. He had no need of envy or desire. What he could not have, he would get in time. Immortality comes with an infinite patience.

If he was still that god, flippant and self-important, maybe he would demand some sort of compensation. Some sort of recompense for past agony.

For as long as Zhongli's lived, he has never wanted; not in the way a mortal yearns for their lover, or the way a dog longs for its owner until it whines. Never in any way that mattered, never before he met you.

Zhongli has had eons to become used to the loneliness that so often encompasses him. And now, knowing that you breathe the same air as him, he's become rather acquainted with the ever consuming desire to nestle close to you, like ink caressing every pore of canvas.

His desire runs through him— barking and loud, rapid and frantic— but when faced with you, a whisper, whimpering in the dark crevices of his ribs. At times, he comes close to asking you to hold him, but decorum and propriety keep him in place, tight and tense.

Liyue was built knowing your gaze followed him. Its foundations set, earth molded, and its rivers bent, hoping they would be fit to your liking. His every breath spent chasing after your favor, desiring to be remade in your image, to be exactly what you want him to be. Afraid that, when finally met with you, you will not like what you see.

Zhongli has rarely ever wanted, and rarer still, has he ever feared.

It's a mortal's fear. The fear of their lord displeased with their harvest. A boyish fear, made up of desperation and the fear of disapproval; one he shouldn't feel, one he should feel no familiarity with. One he suspects many have felt when within his own presence.

When you ask him what he would like in return for all of his efforts— a reward, you say— Zhongli feels his breath seized from him.

Zhongli lived much of his early life against you. At every opportunity, he rebelled at what he thought was a cruel god. Imperious and charged with Guizhong’s death, he would have demanded answers.

For him to have lived while those he cared for perished without a moment's repose, for him to have survived every moment of cruel war when each breath was like a whip against his lungs— he deserved to know, if you were as real as Guizhong so staunchly believed, why he had lived in her place.

Yet, despite centuries of tempered rage, Zhongli has become content to live as nothing more than your servant.

He tells you he wants for nothing. That all he desires now is the simplicity of being beside you; the escape of your laughter, where there's no need to concern himself with anything other than you. He tells you he only wishes to know how to take care of you better, how to align himself with your tastes and desires.

"I insist," you say, and Zhongli realizes it's a command. His mouth turns dry, and every word settles on his tongue like heavy weights, dead and still.

You stare, and his breath hitches, his heart a swell in his chest. Zhongli thinks of every answer, how your reaction to any could either breathe life into him, or leave him broken. How, for a moment, he amuses himself with the idea of asking for your touch— the cusp of your palm on his cheek, your fingers against his spine; how he could ask, and how you might favor him enough to do so.

He then thinks of asking you for reassurance. For affirmation of forgiveness for the actions in his youth. To finally have the certainty that he hasn’t failed you, and maybe, the confirmation that you may care for him.

“Forgive me for my impropriety, Your Grace,” Zhongli begins, voice light and breathy. His hand rests on his chest, fighting the urge to dig into his skin, hoping to calm the pounding of his heart. “But… if I may, I was wondering if I had done right by you?”

You sit inertly in silence for a moment, and Zhongli wonders if it’s on purpose, some sort of punishment for daring to ask such a thing. You had no reason to reward him, and he had been blessed enough to hold your attention for longer than a moment. He had no right to ask for your thoughts, not so directly.

He thought he knew that. It was why he followed you, why he made sure your every request was completed to the highest standard. If you mentioned the taste of your tea being too bitter, or sweet, or that you’d rather he prepare something else for you entirely, he would rush to follow your word. Even if he had been the one to brew it, even if it was him who cultivated the leaves, even if he thought it would be to your liking.

All he needed was to be helpful. All he needed was you. Within you, was his salvation— within you, was love itself. Without you, the once great Lord of Geo was but a fragmented elemental wisp of energy, only ever calling your name.

A spike of adrenaline rushes through him, fear and anxiety denying any sense of hope. All he hears is the solitary sound of his heart in his ears.

“You have only ever done good by me.”

Zhongli’s heart lurches, heat rippling through his body. You say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and his mind feels dizzy at the implication. The ground sways, and his feet feel light.

“You deserve more than that, I think.” You step forward, and Zhongli is so lost within his own thoughts, he takes no notice of your sudden increase in proximity— but his breath still quickens, and red still coats the apples of his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you whisper, and though you say it so softly, it's as though the sky had been torn asunder with the speed he responds. Zhongli’s mind still feels far away, but he hears your orders as if spoken directly into his ear.

He drops to his knees, no care for whether he does so elegantly enough. All he can focus on is the weight of your gaze, and the way he's the only thing under it.

“Do you want me to praise you?” You trace his jawline with your finger, still speaking in a soft, unhurried tone. “Do you want me to tell you how much of a good boy you are?”

Zhongli inhales sharply, fighting every thought that screams at him to eagerly lean into your hand. He stares up at you, russet lashes fluttering and amber eyes swallowed by adoration and worship.

“Yes, Your Grace,” he whispers hoarsely.

Your thumb swipes over his lower lip, and a whine rises to the back of his throat.

“My good boy.” Zhongli’s entire body shudders, his chest heaving. A shaky breath escapes him. “You've been waiting to hear that for so long, haven't you?”

He whimpers, then nods in a way he hopes doesn’t come across as overeager— quickly bereft of any sense of propriety, or care for whether or not he’s making a fool of himself. All he can concern himself with is how close you are, how easily your scent renders him still, how quickly he borders on senseless.

You smile at that, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from whimpering.

“Do you want me to tell you how grateful I am?” Your fingers move across his neck, brushing against his Adam’s Apple, watching it bob as he gulps, trying to keep himself steady and not fall against you. “How you're my favorite?”

An ugly sound rips from Zhongli’s throat, and it's one he's instantly ashamed of. Every part of him feels bare in front of you, laid out messy and without decorum. The mask he’s worn for eons steadily breaks, and every one of his veins and bones scream out for your warmth.

The Lord of Geo wouldn’t have ever allowed himself to be so vulnerable. He never would have amused himself with the thought of pleading for anything, or kneeling and falling apart because he was treated softly— least of all, of being so desperate to know that you love him; that you favor him.

Zhongli, now without his Gnosis, is as mortal as the men he used to lord over. And perhaps it’s his newfound mortality that moves him to lean into your hand, frantically trying to meld your fingers against his skin until his flesh is like clay inlaid with your fingertips; hoping that you’ll rebuild him until he fits your desires, and tell him again that he’s proven to have done good by you.

Every thought is a prayer, another hymn, another psalm.

“Am I? Your favorite?”

His voice trembles, and breathes into a soft whisper. Zhongli doesn’t mean to sound so desperate— he doesn’t mean to be so greedy— but his soul has never felt so full before. His mind is so mired by your touch and voice that he doesn’t realize his lack of formality, or how he might come across as arrogant.

He wants only to think of you, and so he does. Nothing else matters.

“Yes.” You chuckle, and his heart speeds up at the sound, fervent. “Why would I want anyone else?”

Zhongli whines, and faintly, through the blur of fanaticism and worship, thinks that no matter what you asked of him, he would do it without hesitation.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin x reader #sagau #cult au #sagau zhongli #yandere zhongli #cult au zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere male #yandere male x reader #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #self aware genshin au #self aware genshin #gender neutral reader

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p1utofairy · 2 months

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PICK A CARD: “when i look into your eyes, i know it's real.”

★ which romantic tropes will you and your fp embody?

DISCLAIMER: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates leave what doesn’t. this was such a cute idea – thanks for requesting this anon. 💞 i hope you all enjoy!

— PILE ONE.

tropes → star-crossed lovers, forbidden love & opposites attract.

there’s a distinct polarity in you and your fp’s personalities & backgrounds, pile 1. you’re more reserved, cautious and patient and they’re more free-spirited and spontaneous. they say whatever they want and deal with the consequences later; this isn’t in a bad way either, i’m more so picking up that they like to stand up and fight for what’s right. they could be an activist of some sort. they’re confident and brave, and you’re really going to admire that. as far as finances go, this person has MONEY, like big money! they either come from money or they are in a profession that pays extremely well and that’s where i see the forbidden love trope coming in to play.

remember how allie in ‘the notebook’ comes from a wealthy, privileged background, while noah is portrayed as more working-class? the contrast in their backgrounds and personalities added depth to their relationship and created a lot of tension and conflict, but ultimately it made their love story more compelling and dynamic – that’s what i see here with you and your fp. you’re tired of over-working yourself for low pay and working jobs that don’t fulfill you financially, mentally and emotionally. you feel stuck…wondering when things are going to change. i see someone looking out of a window in a house, there’s a strong sense of longing and their eyes look sad. they’re waiting for someone or something to arrive, but when? you’ve been telling yourself to keep going and keep pushing through, and then you will see progress and reward in the long run – very saturn/saturnian energy.

it’s interesting because you’re looking for a way out of your situation and your person is looking for an adventure. your fp is very comfortable financially, but they’re lacking in their love life. right now they’re very much single and they’re fine with that, but that fiery energy that burns inside them can’t be dimmed for long. when they cross paths with you they’re gonna be awestruck like “whoa! who is that?” lol. your fp might have some sagittarius/fire sign placements, or they just carry themselves very pompous and matter-of-fact, which might throw you off at first. that’s why i was also picking up on that opposites attract trope because princess belle & the beast from ‘beauty and the beast’ immediately came to mind. belle loved her books and independence, which was a stark contrast with the beast’s initial gruff and hot-tempered nature. you might think they’re a bit arrogant at first, but once you get to know them you’ll understand that there’s layers to them.

their family plays a big part in their life, which ties into the forbidden love trope because i’m ngl their family lowkey can be a lot to handle. as i said before, some of your fps come from money so some of their families might be a little snooty and strict like allie’s mom from ‘the notebook’ but i think with patience and time – you and your fp will learn to not give a f*ck what their family or anybody else thinks. this relationship is destined and you’re meant to show each other the different aspects/complexities of life and love. the energy is very reminiscent of mr. darcy and elizabeth from ‘pride and prejudice’ like remember how much longing and yearning it took for them to finally be together?! it was sooooooo worth it.

additional messages → wealthy, 2 years from now, ego, aries, very lowkey, the blackest day by lana del rey & cultural differences.

— PILE TWO.

tropes → second chance & age gap.

your fp is dominant af, pile 2. they possess everything within reach, and they’re admired by many. you may establish boundaries with them from the very beginning and they will respect that, they value you and wouldn’t dare do anything to hurt you. however, despite the love, passion, and devotion that will be present in this relationship, there will also be a need for compromise. it seems that this relationship will fulfill your hopes and dreams, but it will also come with its share of responsibilities. in the early stages, both you and your fp will feel a strong urge to make your relationship official and commit to each other. whatever you need or want – they will provide for you. you may not have expected to fall for them, but you couldn’t fight the obvious chemistry between you two. i picked up on the age gap trope mainly because they have provider energy. for some of you, they might already have a kid/kids? your energy feels a little bit more flighty and young. you like to be in your own personal space most of the time, and not everyone understands that, but your fp will.

actually, i think the idea of compromise i was picking up on earlier has to do with your personal space. you might be a bit of an introvert and the idea of constantly entertaining someone 24/7 and not having a moment for yourself is a bit jarring to you. now i’m not saying this person is taking your autonomy away, what i’m saying is that there has to be some sort of balance with the give and take in this connection. it’s reminding me of olivia pope and fitz from ‘scandal’ like one minute he’s showing her the house he had built for them in vermont and then the next scene she’s crying that she needs space and they can’t be together – like OLIVIA what’s it gonna be?! it’s like your heart is saying yes but your mind is saying no.

you’re gonna have to use your discernment and figure out if this is what you want – true commitment. it’s gonna take trust and dedication to make this work, pile 2. it might get to a point where y’all take a break and you choose to see someone else, and then you realize how much of a greater difference your fp makes in your life. they’re your home. that's the second chance trope coming into play. wow, pile 2. this is a very dynamic and complex relationship, but that’s what keeps you two going and loving each other through thick and thin.

additional messages → infrunami by steve lacy, you will meet through friends, extremely dedicated, workaholic, ass kisser, there’s someone in your inner circle you need to cut off, moving abroad, younger sibling & love drought by beyoncé.

— PILE THREE.

tropes → high school sweethearts & enemies to lovers.

your fp is the life of the party, pile 3…sometimes to a fault lol. they’re capable of being responsible and making good decisions, but sometimes they just say f*ck it and wild out. they can be impulsive and unpredictable at times which is quite the opposite from you. i’m picturing haley and nathan from ‘one tree hill’ and kat and patrick from ‘10 things i hate about you’ AND no by meghan trainer just randomly started playing in my head. i’m honestly so amused by this energy cause you’re like “nope! you’re not gonna fuck my life up.” being all dramatic 🤭 and they’re like “what?! me? i would never!” lol there’s gonna be a lot of witty banter between you both. your friends are gonna encourage you to just give them a chance, cause it’s obvious that you do like them — you just can’t stand how “friendly” they are.

your fp is extroverted as hell and loves a good social outing, whereas you on the other hand, rather curl up in bed with a good book or binge-watch your favorite shows/movies in the comfort of your own home. there’s this energy of “been there, done that.” the party scene just isn’t it for you anymore, and you’re content with that. this connection will really help your fp mature and get more in tune with their emotions, instead of masking them behind reckless behavior and nonchalance. that high school sweethearts trope really comes through strongly, not in the sense that y’all are actually in high school, but that nathan & haley vibe – that puppy love! once y’all are together, nobody can tell y’all shit. you and your fp will RIDE for each other.

nathan and haley definitely had their ups and downs, but they always found a way to make it work once they put their egos aside. haley brought out a side of nathan that nobody else got to experience but her. sometimes butting heads is necessary, it helps you confront things within yourself that you don’t always want to acknowledge. you’re so nurturing pile 3, you bring water to their fire. i don’t see you immediately jumping into this relationship, but that’s the beauty of it. that’s where the enemies to lovers trope kicks in, you’ll have to warm up to them first before you truly understand who they are at the core. your fp is used to fast-pace, hot n’ heavy, fleeting relationships but this is stable. this is pure. they’ll realize you can’t rush true love like this, it’s the journey and build-up that makes it so magical.

additional messages → 1st house placements, sagittarius, very soon, get out of your head, nice and slow by usher & family feud.

— PILE FOUR.

tropes → friends to lovers & forced proximity.

your fp has very high-energy, pile 4. i feel out of breath like i just got done doing 8 different tasks at once lol they might be very athletic or they just like to keep themselves busy. you and your fp are opposites, but the more you get to know each other, you will begin to realize that you have a lot in common – i’m hearing that you two will have a lot to talk about. sometimes you might find yourself holding back from saying things that you want to say in fear of judgement but with this person that anxiety goes out the window. they want to hear your thoughts and ideas, because they truly value your wisdom and knowledge on certain topics that they might not have been aware of. i’m hearing that they want to know your lore lol this is too cute. maybe you’re really into movies? marvel? fashion? idk there’s something very specific that you could go on and on about for hours and hours.

that’s why i picked up on that friends to lovers trope because i feel like they will show immediate interest in you and want to pursue something more, but you’ll be like WOAH hold it there…let’s build on this and see where it can go, no rush. i’m ngl pile 4 they might have a bit of a reputation or vibe of being a player…which will make you hesitant as to whether or not you want to take this seriously. i don’t even think you two normally run in the same circles – this is more like a chance meeting. yup here goes that forced proximity trope, you’ll probably meet them in some sort of unconventional way and be “forced” to spend time together.

you and your fp kind of remind me of holly and eric from ‘life as we know it’ which is a very underrated but amazing rom-com. i don’t think you’ll initially hate them per se, you’ll just be a bit cautious of them and wonder if they’re actually being genuine. however, by spending time with your fp, you will develop a deeper understanding and appreciation for them; which will then lead to you falling for them and establishing a close bond. you two might’ve gotten off on the wrong foot and then after a proper conversation with them you’ll be like: huh…you’re not so bad after all. there’s this flirty energy that comes in the form of sly/sarcastic remarks, and you’ll come to realize that it’s their own way of saying “i really like you.” it’s giving 2000s rom-com lol hot n cold by katy perry just came to mind.

the sexual tension between you two will be palpable, your friends will be like just f*ck already!!! this relationship will have it’s fair share of ups and downs, but that’s what will make it worth fighting for; nothing and no one is perfect and you will learn that in this relationship. no one could ever compare to you in your fp’s eyes – they will always have love for you even in the moments where you two don’t see eye to eye. the difference in you and your fp’s personalities will be what draws you two together even more.

additional messages → jealousy, jealousy by olivia rodrigo, lots of traveling, you manifested this, different lifestyles but we’ll make it work, your angel guides got your back & when one door closes, another one opens.

#pick a card #pac #pick a pile #tarot reading #p1utofairy

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princessbrunette · 2 months

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just thinkin about pope n innocent!reader,,, and her calling him daddy while he has her on her lap stuffing her w his fingers :( just thinking…

also, could i please be 📝 anon? :) i loovee ur writing

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

pope liked to reward good behaviour. he found positive reinforcement worked well with you, and was happy to use that to his advantage as it kept the two of you content.

if you were to make a good suggestion to the pogues, you were rewarded with something small and quiet as acknowledgement to your deed, like a kiss on the temple or a reassuring smile and nod. if you were to go out of your way to do something kind or helpful, like bringing him food when he’d forgotten to eat — or sewing up his shirt that got ripped on a pogue mission, you’d be rewarded with copious praise and affection, calling you his ‘good girl’ which seemed to be your favourite, melting like putty in his hands each and every time.

now these were things he did naturally, for nothing in return, purely because he wanted to. but it didn’t go unnoticed that the sweeter he was on his girl, the softer and more vulnerable you’d become — stripping you down to your most true self. he wanted you, wanted all of you— so he’d keep going, keep praising to work you out. you were popes favourite thing to study.

when you’d been consistently well behaved through the entire day, even when odds were against you — he’d often help you unwind with your favourite type of reward, having you on his lap with his long skilful fingers deep inside.

“i know, i know. how’s it feel when it rub you like this, hm? can you talk to me?” he used his softest tone on you, not the voice he uses to sark at jj or argue against john b’s outrageous plans. he was his softest, most relaxed with you — and he loved that you brought that out of him.

“i—i like it, m’gonna cum soon.” you wail but it’s muffled into the smooth skin of his shoulder muscle, the plane that had been bearing all of your pleased tears and sounds.

“thats good, bambie. gonna keep rubbing that pretty clit just like this okay?” he lilts his voice gently, tilting his head when you don’t respond, too focused on breathing out heavy breaths against him. he noses at your cheek, craning down to try and get your eyes on him. “okay?” he repeats and you screw your eyes shut, nodding.

“‘kay, daddy.” you release with a held breath. he’s kind of glad your eyes were shut, because it catches him off guard for a second, blinking down at you as he continues to work his fingers inside you, thumb resting over your button.

daddy.

he couldn’t say he was surprised that you were into that kind of thing, infact — jj had in a way predicted it in once when the two of them were out on the boat fishing. something along the lines of “nah dude she’s real sweet. i see why you like ‘er. got the whole innocent, ‘daddy please fuck me’ thing goin’ on, ‘ya know?” now at the time, pope had been too preoccupied with scolding jj over being vulgar about his girl to entertain the conversation, but now it was coming back to him and he realised he was right.

it definitely made sense. bad relationship with your own father which had wound you up in his arms— someone calm, nurturing, enforces gentle rules and guidance, teaches you new stuff. even away at college before he met you he was a magnet to a certain demographic of girl, one who needed a gentle demeanour and occasional firm hand.

he wracks his brain for what to say as he drops a long kiss to your forehead, blinking rapidly as thoughts fire off. he wants to please you, wants to be that for you— and for once he hadn’t done his ample research beforehand to really support you through it. he decides on something simple, trying it out.

“daddies right here, let it go for me, pretty girl.” he’s more of a natural than he realised, and as if he flipped some sort of switch— you gasp, clutching onto him hard as he feels you gush around his fingers in a water-fall like consistency.

you slur a bunch of nonsense against his skin as he shushes you kindly, ears pricking up and heat rising to his face and cock each time the word ‘daddy’ comes out muffled against his shoulder. if daddy was what you needed, daddy was what you’d get. he better get studying.

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

#📝 anon #pope heyward prompt #deer!reader

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yandere-daydreams · 5 months

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tw - stalking, unhealthy relationships, mentions of masturbation, obsessive behavior, and medical malpractice galore.

Harper is the kind of man who can't help but study what he loves.

It's a bad habit - an unfortunate combination of natural curiosity and burning academic passion that always seems to end with a mess and a few broken toys. A childhood fascination with insects might lead to shoeboxes full of tattered wings and twitching bodies. A passing interest in hemogobular coagulation would be poured into a university internship that gave him access to more pints of blood than he knew what to do with, despite his best attempts to put it all to good use. A lasting fondness for hypnosis could, theoretically, earn him a small collection of pocket watches, a soothing timbre that often played underneath his passive speaking voice, and a few asylum patients too far gone to ever truly recover.

His research wasn't always destructive, but it could be. His love tended to veer towards obsession; the kind of burning infatuations that could leave more than a little devastation in its wake, if he wasn't careful. A measured amount of collateral damage was acceptable, compared to the alternative.

He studies you, too. Idly, at first - nothing more than an intrusive thought allowed to fester during your all-too-infrequent appointments, a quick jolt of excitement when he noticed your name on his schedule - then more consciously, in the form of an extra question asked at the very end of his time with you, a note tacked onto your file that doesn't strictly have to do with your health. His chances for observation are limited. You rarely make it to your therapy sessions, no matter how often he insists you should see him, and you're sturdier than he'd like, too used to being thrown around and mistreated to come running to him every time you scrape your knees. That's something he decides he doesn't like about you fairly early on. Part of a case study is deciding which parts of your subject will need to be adapted, and even you aren't beyond correction.

He records your reactions to his mis-prescribed medication with a religious sort of zealousness, reviews your symptoms and lab results while fucking his fist in-time with your pulse. He makes sure to visit your bedside personally whenever you find your way into his emergency room, and you're rewarded for your newfound attentiveness with a healthy supply of shots that leave you too removed from reality to remember your time on his examination table. Harper's always preferred the written word, but he find himself with a budding appreciation for film during his nightly evaluation of your records. His memory is keen enough, but there's nothing quite like being able to study your body detail by detail whenever he isn't fortunate enough to have access to the real thing.

He thinks, as he watches a pair of his nurses drag you through the asylum doors, that it might be time to start the next leg of his study. Studying is useful, but you've always benefited from more proactive measures, more personal attention. It'd be a discredit to his occupation if he was too preoccupied with his own little pleasures to see to the needs of his favorite patient.

It's far past time he moved on to more hands-on research methods, when it comes to you.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere prompts #yandere degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity x reader #dol #harper the doctor #harper x reader #yandere harper the doctor #dol imagines #degrees of lewdity imagines #yanderecore #yancore

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saylorsaysstop · 3 months

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Sleeping Together | 18+

also shout out to @joyful-enchantress because after she commented on my Grayson post earlier, this all came to my mind. 🤪

**underneath the cut**

DICK GRAYSON

Dick talks you through it. He wants you to be vocal and makes it his top priority that your needs are met first

"Tell me what you need, baby." - "That's it, just like that, baby. You're close, aren't ya? Yeah, look at you. Come on, grind a little harder. I know you can do it."

Giving head is a sport for Grayson and he excels at it. He eats you out like you're his last meal

The man is an acrobat. He's flexible. All the positions he can get the two of you in should be new entries in the Kama Sutra

Dick loveeeees head in return. He won't ever make you do it or ask, but he loves that you're so eager to pleasure him

"I've been good, haven't I? No other reason to explain why you're gifting me that hot mouth of yours, sweet girl."

Dick isn't afraid to moan either. He knows when the noises start coming out of his mouth, you get off quicker

Let's go back to that acrobatic thing. He may or may not figure out ways to suspend you in the air... He may or may not be such a kinky man that he's got a separate room in your house where he plays sports with you... I'm not admitting it, I'm just saying

Loves for you to suck him off when your head hanging off the edge of the bed. He also loves to eat you out simultaneously

Dick Grayson is a boob man. Both hands on deck, he squeezes and teases your nipples by plucking them between his fingers. Loves to suck on them until they're stiff peaks. Likes to push two fingers into you while he bites your nipple, stroking until he hits that sweet spot. You're a goner after that

Loves for you to take what you want

"Atta girl, ride it just like that. This dick belongs to you, right? Act like it. Pleasure yourself... Yeah, go ahead and play with your clit. Wanna see you come. You're so pretty when you do."

Dick treasures loving on you after sex. He rewards you for your good behavior and a job well done with baths, massages, you name it. He ensures you're taken care of and reminds you that he loves you dearly

JASON TODD

Jason likes it rough. He loves it when he sees your marks on him, whether it be teeth or nails. He collects each one like it is a kill

Ropes? Knife play? Any sort of bondage? Jason Todd is your man

Loves to bind your hands above your head while he rails you deep into the mattress. Loves the idea of you being helpless and unable to take it anymore. Gets him off real quick

Loves some dirty talk

"Take this dick like a good girl." - "You're soaking wet, babe. All this for me?" - "Not gonna waste a drop of this cum, you hear me? You won't let a drop leak outta this cunt - my cunt. You got that?"

Jason likes to get right by your ear while he grunts with each thrust, nipping your earlobe in between before trailing his tongue down your neck and sucking on your collarbone

"Gonna mark this pretty neck up, baby."

You two go at each other until you're a panting mess. Clothes strewn all over the place. Jason and you stare up at the ceiling, laughing like teenagers as you calm down from the high

"I think that was my new personal best. Ten orgasms. Ten!"

Yeah. Jason likes to place bets on who can give the other more orgasms in one night. Right now, he's winning

Jason loves your butt. Loves to slap your cheeks as he bends you over his lap as a warm-up. Carresses and bites the plump skin when he's kissing his way down your body before he hikes your legs over his shoulders and feasts

Likes to feel you breathe against him. He loves to feel your chest rise and fall when he's on top and you're panting for every breath while chasing your orgasm

He's a man who likes to edge that's for sure

"Uh-uh... That wasn't it. You can do better than that. Moan a little louder, that's it..." - "I'm being mean? No, you just need to work harder to come. You wanted this." - "Atta girl. I promise I'll let you come after this."

Jason's aftercare is you two taking a hot bath together where he can just hold your back to his chest and actually talk. You're his safe space

TIM DRAKE

Tim, albeit quiet, is a delectable switch. One day he's all soft and endearing, the next he's plowing you into next week (and blushing when you mention it afterward

He does a lot of studying on sex. What positions feel the best for you, different ways he can go down to ensure he has you screaming his name for all of Gotham to hear

Gets a little possessive during sex, especially when he's losing himself in it

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine, sweetheart. Mine." - "No one else is going to claim you. You belong to me."

He likes it when you pull his hair, especially when he's going down. Feeling you guide him further into you is like a bolt of electricity shooting down his spine

Tim loves to get you relaxed before sex too, especially if he knows it's going to be a long night. He'll run you a warm bath, pamper you with sweet-scented lotions, and get you nice and ready before he unleashes. Fun fact, those nights are when you know he's gonna get rough

Tim won't admit it aloud but he loves a good missionary position or where you two lay facing each other. He loves to caress your face and kiss you softly as he takes you

"Lift your leg, sweetheart... That's it. C'mere. Let me watch that gorgeous face of yours when you fall apart for me, yeah?"

Like Dick and Jason, he VALUES aftercare so. Freaking. Much! Takes a warm cloth to the mess he made between your legs and kisses along the heated skin, telling you how much he loves you

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swisccfinds · 4 months

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TODDLER Traits Pack V2.5 by Vicky Sims

I love this mod because this gives your gameplay more traits for toddlers which can be very realistic to toddlers traits that they would normally have in the real world!

Creator's notes-

查看更新進度 Check this mod's compatibility for patch

🐣 A total of 20 Toddler Age-Exclusive Custom Traits.

They are all base game compatible.

All my Custom Traits Packs are compatible with any other mods.

Provided with CAS Traits version and Reward Traits version that can be used together

To add the reward version to toddlers, you need to use my Traits Picker or AddTraitsMenu.

Traits name in a colored font is the reward version; Traits name not in the colored font is the CAS version

Mod Review by CindySims on YouTube

Mod Review by Kimikosoma on YouTube

Changelog July 16, 2022:

V2.5:

Added Russian translations by coregirl. Thank you!

Check Past Changelogs

👑 Full Details of TODDLER Traits Pack

💠 Check out All Custom Traits Pack by Me

❓ What's the difference between Original (CAS) and Reward Version?

Not Required but Recommended Mods:

My Lifetime Traits is a mod to assign corresponding personality traits when toddlers grow up to child age. You can still edit the auto-assigned traits in the aging-up UI if you don't like them!

My More CAS Traits is a tuning mod that allows your Sims to have more than 3 Personality (CAS) traits without script or changes to UI.

My Custom Traits in Club Filter let you set all Preferences, Lifestyles, Parenthood Phases, University Diploma/Degree, Ghost/Death Types, Rewards, and Aspirations Bonus Traits from the base-game and packs as well as custom traits made by me and many other creators' traits as the club requirement.

My Sorted Traits Picker allows you to add traits to your Sims categorized by game packs, cc trait packs, and their creators, without going through a long list of AddTraitsMenu.

My Mass Traits Remover helps you to remove traits from your Sims/Pets in bulk, without clicking on remove traits one by one with other cheat traits mod.

My Holiday Tradition Override makes custom traits affecting the Love and Ignoration (Does Not Care) of Holiday Traditions. E.g. Aromantic Sims no longer want to celebrate any love day tradition, Hostile Sims love the fighting tradition, etc.

All Chingyu Infos You Need:

👁‍🗨 Master-post for ALL my mods

👁‍🗨 Learn how to install a mod & FAQs

👁‍🗨 Terms of Use

👁‍🗨 Ask Questions/ Suggestions/ Bug Reports on Discord

▶ I need to see a screenshot or LE report to help you figure out what's wrong!

👁‍🗨 My Official Site

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Twitter

👁‍🗨 Follow me on Tumblr

If You Like My Mods, Please Consider:

🎁 Monthly subscription on Patreon

🎁 One-time donation on Ko-fi

Translations and Credits:

Icons are from icons8.com.

Brazilian Portuguese Translation by FlaSimsBR. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

Chinese translation中文翻译 by 小好 Lois. (merged in the mod) Thank you! 感谢！

Dutch translation by GothiqueAngel. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

German Translation by Capichan. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

Italian translation by Rahl81. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

Polish translations by rhevv. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

Russian translations by coregirl. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

Spanishtranslation by CindySims. (merged in the mod) Thank you!

French translation by Saki and Kimikosoma here. Francophones ? Vous trouverez chez Kimikosoma, dans la partie "Traits par Chingyu", les différentes traductions des traits. A mettre dans le même dossier que les mods concernés ! Thank you!

If you use a separated translation package, download the mod as usual and also put the translation package directly in your Mod folder.

-------Be sure to agree to my TOU before you download and use my mods -------

DOWNLOAD INSTRUCTIONS:

You can use both the CAS version and Reward version of Toddler Traits.

Put the package into less than FIVE folders deep in your Mod Folder.

To add the reward version to toddlers, you need to use my Traits Picker or AddTraitsMenu.

Download 下載 (You can use both or either one.)

(this one describes my toddler in real life LOL)

Thank you to Vicky Sims for adding realistic traits for toddlers that comes with moodlets! Show them some love and support before downloading!

download - patreon

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benisasoftboi · 7 months

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I am so happy with the conclusion of BBC Ghosts.

There were so many things I loved about the final series that I can't even keep it all straight in my brain, I'll have to rewatch it all (and the Christmas special, of course! Must remember it's the not the true end yet!)

But something I can immediately say I loved was what they didn't do. See, that line in the trailer that turned out to be from episode 5 - about there being a pattern to when they move on - worried me. One of the best things about the show, to me, is how there truly is not any reason at all to why the ghosts are there, or when they go. It's something the creators have said over and over, and that the show has always backed up; we saw so many times that, unlike in most ghost media, addressing unfinished business or achieving emotional resolution changes absolutely nothing. Pat hit some sort of emotional resolution three times. And Julian realised the importance of family, and Robin saved someone’s life, and Thomas discovered the truth of his death, and so on and so on. Finding closure isn't the end, and equally, the end isn't predicated by a climatic conclusion. It just happens. And the same is true for why people become ghosts. It just happens. And you exist, and fill your days, and then you’re gone. And no one knows why.

It's kind of the most agnostic television show I've ever seen.

I love that. Every other afterlife show I've ever seen has some kind of reward and punishment system. Or at least says that there's a reason for things, some kind of higher power at play, not necessarily a god but something like it. Even the American adaptation felt the need to bring Hell into it, which is why I need to specify that I'm only talking about the British version here. And I feel like a lot of fans wanted there to be reasons too, or felt like there simply had to be, that it wasn't even a question. I get why - it's not just because it's the standard for ghost narratives. It's really uncomfortable to think about the randomness of life and death. But Mary didn't go because of anything that happened before that day, and Cap was never going to go because he came out, and one day, when they've all gone, there won't have been a reason for it.

Because the real point of BBC Ghosts is that there is no point. You’ve just got to make it through the days, surrounded by people that irritate you, trapped in a confusing world where you’re mostly powerless. And it sucks, and you're angry, and sad, and bored as hell. And you also find happiness in the mundane chaos, and you get really good at chess, and watch the ants in the garden, and write bad poetry, and read terrible romance novels, and gamble money you don't have, and go camping, and play games, and learn French, and watch reality TV, and have sex with a decapitated Tudor nobleman’s body, and dance to old music, and look at the stars, and find that you actually really love all those annoying people after all, and that’s the point.

#bbc ghosts #bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts series 5 #but imagine if they prove me wrong by melodramatically killing them all off at christmas though lmao actually that would be hilarious do it #also love so very much that they finished on a gay joke they know who's on the front lines for them <3 #god it's a cliche but really do already miss 'em

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ghouljams · 5 days

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What Once Was

A perspective shift, a pause, a brief respite before doubt takes hold again. Android!Ghost feels his heart beat.

You grew up in Manchester, or at least you had a job out there. You don’t like thinking about “growing up.” As far as you’re concerned you’ve been doing this your whole life. Fixing things. You had a job, an apprenticeship, with a bot mechanic at one of the industrial plants. You’d taught yourself coding, but at risk of electrocution you’d found someone to teach you the rest. It was hard, but the work was rewarding. You were young, but unlike people, bots care more about the results than how long a doctor has been a doctor. They didn’t ask questions, they didn’t know they should have.

The area was rough, you always liked the industrial parts of town, but even you could admit the place had seen better days. There was this old butcher shop. Real old school, but people like that. Meat tastes better when it’s cut by human hands, you’d heard someone say once. And there was this kid working there, Simon, he couldn’t have been much older than you. You saw him on your lunch breaks sometimes. You shared your sandwich with him.

He smiled sometimes, more than you would have thought given everything you knew about him. He liked working with his hands, you got that. He liked being away from home, you got that too. He never called you crazy when you talked about bots like they were people. He was sweet, you liked that about him.

He disappeared one day, without saying goodbye. You figured that was just what happened to people who lived like you two did. You didn’t even bother with a police report. Maybe you should have.

You still sit with your knees pulled up to your chest when you’re working on small parts. Your brows still furrow the way they did when you were a teenager. Ghost watches you flip down your magnifier over your eyes and remembers teasing you about needing glasses from squinting too much. You still blow the dust out of old cartridges and stick them into your arsenal of wires just to listen to the technicolor drone of ancient video games while you work.

“Just the music,” you’d told him years and years ago, “it helps me focus.”

You’re exactly the same, and yet you’re so unfathomably different. Or maybe he’s different. Different in the ways that matter most, in the ways that mean you’ll never recognize him. It’s better like this. He’s been through too much to be the sort of man you deserve. Barely a man at all, really.

That doesn’t stop him from circling you, like a moth to a flame, or a weary soldier to the comfort of home. He finds himself in your workshop with repairs that aren’t repairs, with injuries that he’s never been bothered by before. Ghost sits and lets you run diagnostics, lets you poke and prod at his gears, and he never says a word. Never mentions that you still look beautiful in work lights, that you shouldn’t hold your tweezers in your mouth because you always pinch your lip, that you’re still you even when he isn’t sure he’s still himself. He never mentions that he has a million things he’s never told you, that he wanted to tell you but never got the chance to.

He thinks them sometimes: when he’s watching you work, when you smile up at a bot warmly, when you ask him what’s wrong, when you start walking towards him before you even know what he needs, when you lay your hands on him and he flips every sensor to try and feel your warmth. He thinks that he loves you, that no matter how little of him is left he’ll always love you. He could love you with nothing, with bare circuits and white matter, and that would be enough to keep him going.

It was enough to keep him going. It isn’t anymore. Not when you’re here, so close and still a thousand miles away. Not when you don’t recognize him, when you don’t see the scrawny kid from Manchester in the corded steel and dense circuitry.

Did you think of him when he left? Did you worry? It always felt melancholic, said as a joke that neither of you laughed at: it’s gonna kill me one day, this world’s gonna kill me. Was that what you thought happened? When you knew about his father, when he sat down for lunch with fresh bruises and a split lip, did you think that’s what happened when he didn’t show up the next day? Did you mourn him?

He should have taken you with him. Sixteen. Young enough to kill for a living, but still too young to save you. He couldn’t save anyone, couldn’t even save himself.

They shouldn’t have put him back together.

Not if it meant he’d see you again.

Not if it meant you’d look at him like this,

Like nothing.

Repairs that aren’t repairs. Injuries that never bothered him before. Diagnostics. Circling. He knows it will burn him, he can feel the heat, but he can’t stop. Androids aren’t supposed to feel. Men aren’t supposed to be metal. And you don’t love him.

Not anymore.

(If you ever did.)

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #android!ghost #cyberpunk au #gn!reader

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qvrcll · 12 days

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Warnings: mentions of political marriages, strangers > friends > lovers, kissing near towards the end, mentat at mind, lover boy at heart

The ordeal is simple — at-least on paper. You and Paul are meant to be wed on the single promise of a shared goal between the two of your houses, which come down to one thing and one thing only: security. Wealth, power and standing do not surmount to what, in Leto’s words, the Emperor has planned for the futility of house Atreides. He knows, Thufir knows, everyone knows, that Arrakis wasn’t branded to be some sweetly wrapped gift that fell into his lap when the time came to reward the duke. No - matters of this sort were much too systematic, especially at a scale such as this. Something must be done, to solidify the house of Atreides upon the rain-swept expanse of Caladan. Something to bind the Atreides to their mother planet long enough, so there might not be strife or conflict that sharpens whatever blade is held against them. So, wed Paul you must.

Simple doesn’t translate so easily against the obscurity that is the real world.

In the real world, the two of you are mere strangers. The only thing that binds the two of you is the responsibility bourne from the insignias that you wear, that are soon to culminate as two adjoining houses; whilst his happen to be two thick lines of silver against his collar, yours take on a different shape, a strange alterity between curves and striking lines, and shot through with gold against the sleeve of your garments. There is it — the mere tellings of your differences, as pure as day. He wonders how the symbols will look like, meshed together and serving as one. He wonders how he will appear next to you - frail boy or able man?

Half of the time, you catch his eye simply because you are there, sitting duly next to your father and ascertaining the weight of such a marriage past paper, when all is said and done. Other times, you are a blurring fragment in the hallways, swathed in your house’s colours and too fleeting to get a hold on, sometimes even flanked by your house’s livery. Mere strangers, he reminds the indiscernible feeling in his chest.

“Where is your head at? Focus!” Gurney growls out, more harsh tempered than his usual mood, as he crouches and takes Paul’s fair strike for what it was - a clean swipe that was meant for his chest, which now deflects smoothly off of the older, more haggard man’s shield, and sets the room abuzz with vibrations. And so the smell of ozone worsens, Paul calculates in his head, as he shakes his head thoroughly and shifts his grip on his weapon. Gurney isn’t impressed — not in the way he usually is. Paul knows he must answer.

“This is me focusing,” Paul offers, and doesn’t grit his teeth or possess a sudden candour with his strikes because he respects Gurney. But he cannot help the mood that has blanched him - voids, how he wishes he could confess those words, verbatim, to the older man who currently encircles his passes like a seasoned ring-fighter. But the word ‘mood’ had gotten him in line last week, when Gurney had simply upped his antics with the mere mention of it, “I’m just out of breath.”

“No, you’re not.” Gurney smiles, clenching his palm around the ragged hilt of the Kindjal. He knows, Paul thinks bitterly.

“No, I’m not.” Paul confesses. He tests a low swoop of his dagger - ill-advised - and reigns his laugh in when it catches Gurney off his feet, his back staggering against the training table.

Let’s see how you like this, lad, Gurney formalises in his mind, as he presses his defence like a bull and keeps his attacks slow and pulsing through the air, blinding all of Paul’s spots, “Is it the marriage?”

Cornered for tactics, and focusing mostly on not getting cleaved to pieces during training, Paul scoffs, “Of course it’s the marriage.”

“You’re scared.”

At this, Paul counters metal with metal, bounding back when it rings against his ears, rings against the room, “I’m not scared. I’m prepared to fulfil my duty, even if I am given options,” a dull parry, which still creates momentum, and thus space, between the two men, “I’m only uneasy because I’ve never actually met her.”

“You have. Several times. Or have you been asleep throughout your father’s meetings?”

Paul stresses a firm strike against Gurney, which repels off of his own shield by how close the dagger strikes the space between them. But he’s good at catching himself. Gurney, unused to Paul’s strange and newly learnt manoeuvres, falls short. He tries to counter, but cannot, but he is most impressed for it.

“Concede.” Paul breathes, low and attempting a threatening veil, as Gurney’s back meets the floor. The old man grunts, before nodding deftly as Paul hauls him to his feet with one palm alone. They settle in different corners of the room, silence beseeching both of them suddenly - they’re not two men for silence, but in Gurney’s head, Paul is undergoing a strange part of his life. He wonders if Paul fears it in the night.

Paul interjects Gurney’s thoughts.

“Do you - have you… met her?” his voice is meek. Uncharacteristic. Gurney smirks.

“Once or twice, in the hallways.”

“And? How is she?”

Gurney laughs. The boy is eager today.

The next time I see her, I will speak, he promises.

Better said than done. With no similar companions his age - a course of action being the very result of his heritage, his mother reminds him - he truly doesn’t know how to properly seek you out. You are more shadow than friend, more idea than person, and the more he sees you, the more he forgets.

“Something on your mind?” Duncan nudges him with the edge of some Fremen equipment, that bothers him well enough to dredge out Paul’s concerns. Not that he needs to. It is written on his face.

“Yes,” Paul confesses, readjusting for comfort, “It’s about my marriage.”

“You speak as though you will marry tomorrow. It is not set it stone. Not yet.”

Paul scoffs, “I know that. I just haven’t met her yet. And I want to.”

Duncan, in the midst of polishing some hardware and solar devices, that smell quite faintly of hot sand and the sun, pauses to glance away from Paul’s face. When his gaze returns, it is almost teasing, a smirk ripping across his face, “You’re in luck today.”

“What?” Paul swivels and —

Oh. Oh.

You’re standing there. Hands clasped behind your back, yes. Stoic, assessing expression, yes. Clothed in rich colours of your house, as you always are in his passing vision - only this time, it is a green so deep that it comes across as black. Suddenly, realising that you have been found out by not only Duncan Idaho, but by the Duke’s son himself, you uncharacteristically let slip your own embarrassment through wide eyes.

“Oh. My apologies — I, uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was just curious by the - er - gadgets.” you fumble for words at a rate that would be comical if not for the morbid embarrassment seizing you by the seconds. You’re shaking your head politely, smile strained and legs rooted where they are and ready to melt into the various corridors - back to your own duties, you assume. Away from company. Paul, however, stands linearly and full of purpose, face constructed of hard lines that all smile at you.

“No, please. Join us,” his voice is smooth - you’ve never heard him talk, even around those board room meetings - and his hand is extended to gesture within the space, “I insist.”

Duncan raises a brow in amusement and Paul wants to tamp his feet down with a neat blow. That pulls a chortle out of the man, which only further startles you. Paul invites you cordially to take a seat, where you fit awkwardly, like you were truly imposing. However, in a manner of minutes, that is all erased when Duncan lets the two of you weigh the objects in your hand – sand compactor, weapons, stinted devices that were far too aged to be still of use but gathering attention nonetheless. When Paul passes it to you, he feels your soft fingers pass underneath his own, where a warm feeling curdles as an afterthought.

“This—is a sand compactor?” you ask warily, tilting the device as though it would spring up on you and dissolve to bits. Duncan barks out a laugh.

“For sand compacting, yes.” he humours you. You, however, are too lost on the object, still swirling it around in your palms; eyes peeled downwards.

“Yes. I see.” you reply.

The two men dissolve into a fit of laughter. You look up, eyes helplessly trailing from one to the next. The day is easy.

Paul is thankful for the event, and so are you. It doesn’t solve all his problems, and his head is always probing with inquiries and worries, but he can count on the off chance of seeing you in the hallways. He can count on the fact that you will pause, meet his eyes and smile.

You’re walking the countless hallways of the estate - Caladan had so much water to offer, but no one on your native planet ever mentioned the striking architecture, the hollowed out walls and think-pieces painted across rooms. High domed ceilings, with absolutely nothing to offer but soft light. Some rooms contained scintillating glass, chairs of different shapes and mediums, tables too big for just a few affairs. Others were bound shut, but that didn’t discourage nor intimidate you, nor your entourage.

On one such day, you’re caught in your explorations by none other than the Atreides heir.

In actuality, it is you who catches him first, stood perfectly still at the end of the corridor and holding a terse expression. When he spots you, his shoulders relax and he manages to blink once, before his mouth opens underneath the realisation that you were really here.

“Hello.” his voice is strong, and carries well.

That was awkward. This is always awkward. He curses himself.

You smile, and it swipes at the ground beneath his feet, “I didn’t expect to see you here.

“This is my residence, yes?” more jest than anything else. You snort.

“I am aware. Your residence is quite beautiful. I like to wander,” you say, finding yourself fixing a meandering pace beside him, and he smiles softly when he realises that he, too, steps beside you at a similar speed, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. Never.”

It is quick work after that – by pure coincidence, that you joke to Paul that is it is methodical instincts and ground-work as a mentat that he is able to summon himself almost anywhere you are present from that point onwards, you two bump into each other more and more in the corridors, and from there, it extends to the rather large library, the training space with Gurney skirting its edges, the ever-blossoming gardens even, which held more water than shrubbery in retrospect. Meetings pertaining to your marriage held an element of amusement now, as Paul actually tries to catch your eye this time, drumming his lithe and smooth fingers against the table in a way that could’ve passed off as a wandering of his mind as his father droned on about security measures and fuel caps, but you notice.

You hadn’t, not before, but you did now. To his pleasure, you even respond in a tiny flickering of fingers against the age-old meeting table, the vibrations a blur against his obvious contentment.

“You look glad.” Gurney comments and Paul realises how uninvolved his attention had been on the room before him. He quickly assesses it and whatever lays within it; table, check. Light source, check. Scratchy walls, check. Gurney’s ever-gracing height, check.

When had his habits, trained and chained to duty, begun to sweep towards you?

“Do I?” Paul asks, keeping his voice as still as he can manage. He had swiped at his face to rid the itch off his brow, but he unwittingly catches how warm he is. Not uncomfortable, no. But enough to leave a mark on his consciousness. It was like he was simply losing grip on his own composure when he thought of… something. It was still fleeting in his own mind.

He is too afraid to retrace his steps and find a familiar pair of eyes staring at him in the recesses of it.

Gurney slaps a hand on Paul’s shoulder, seemingly articulate with the latter’s feelings. Old man, Paul would curse out in jest, but he merely smiles. It is strained, and strange. Paul never puts an effort into his smiles, Gurney notes.

“Something is on your mind.” Gurney clicks his tongue.

Paul blinks, swallows, “Something is on my mind.”

“Out with it.”

Paul hesitates, which is strange, because in all his fights he is the first to stoke the flame. He isn’t vengeful – at-least, he doesn’t think he is – that’s why his strikes lack a hunger for blood and instead, settle for calculation. Briefness. No means to an end just yet. Or ever, he thinks.

But with you, it’s different. That’s what he spits out, what he lets Gurney work with. How you were a supposed intrusion into his life – something he had assumed would be awkward, like a stab wound that had scabbed over and began to weakly throb in pain, always to remind itself of its own compromise to work around demise. He thought you would be that; but upon meeting you, you were anything but that. You were curious and brilliant in your own way – similar to him, yet miles apart so that you were the form of a friend he had always wished for in his youth. You talked about your interests and spent double your time inquiring about his. When your hands brushed, his own grew clammy – that’s the strangest one of them all, Gurney – And something was blossoming – was it friendship? Was it trust? Was it fear?

What was this spattering and gooey mess slipping over the swell of his heart whenever you appeared? What was it?

He talks and talks and talks until Gurney squeezes his palm over Paul’s shoulder in a way an uncle would do to his nephew who he might want to reassure. Or a brother would to his youngest companion, as if to say: I see you. I hear what you say.

“Sounds to me like there’s an awful lot of trust between the two of you,” Gurney clicks his tongue again, only this time, Paul scoffs. Ah, there he is – there is the Paul Atreides I know, Gurney smiles, “And something else too.”

“What is it?” Paul asks. His eyes are curious, brows furrowed. Gurney holds down the laugh building in his chest, and the emboldened words in red: you’re falling in love with this friend of yours, boy, and instead, pats him on the shoulder.

“Piece of advice, if you’ll heed to anything I say,” Paul straightens with attention, “Let the truth flow. Do not stop it. Do not push it back. To live with the truth, you must learn its ways and be one with it.”

That night, Paul walks back to his room with the truth beneath his skin, and listens to his own heartbeat against his pillow. The rest of him warms with the realisation of, oh, oh, oh.

The next time you see Paul, you think you’d done something to offend him. Or bore him. Or something other.

It had become a pleasant habit; meeting him at the Caladan gardens, opting for a spot and sitting with your backs to the grass, counting the stars as you talked. Before, conversation had tipped forth whenever. Now, there was something in the air – tension. And it is him that brings it.

Paul avoids your eyes, settling instead for the vast colouring of grey across the hallway walls whenever he caught you in it. He had stopped sending you the familiar drumming of his fingertips across the meeting table, and instead always froze up when you met his gaze, whereby he turned red with anger – or was it anger? What was it?

He’d always be staring at your face, and you would wonder if there was a piece of parchment stuck to it, or if he was merely bored around you; most days, you allowed it. It stung, yes, but you had nothing ill to hold against him. But it accumulated, unbeknownst to you, and for him to miss your question yet again made you sigh in defeat – disappointment?

“You seem distracted,” you say, not bothering to shield the hurt in your words, though you couldn’t begin to understand why and when you had ever begun to crave expect the attention of his earthen-dusted eyes, “Am I boring you?”

He straightens up, his eyes wide, which in turn surprises you, “Bored? Seven hells, no. ‘Course not.”

“What did I just ask then?”

He cringes, “I promise I’m not bored. Just…”

His fingers flex in his lap, before curling into themselves, and his cheeks warm slightly. Is it happening now? Is he doing it now? The weather was right; a typical Caladan breeze, heavy with the wetting of the sky from the day, and now shrouded with clouds and a darkness that was impenetrable. Even as the two of you laid against the bare grass, no one outside could tell either of you apart from the ground itself. In the moonlight, you were almost one with it.

“Just?” you ask. You were curious of this now, “Just what?”

“Just!” he sucks in a harsh breath, his sharp face now boyishly soft and pliant in a way you hadn’t seen it before, “I… Just promise you won’t take offence to this.”

How ironic.

“I promise, Paul,” you smile, shoulder bumping against his as you glance at the side of his face, the way his nose shapes perfectly against the dampness of the Calandan wind, “Tell me.”

Be one with it. Be one with it. It is a mantra in his head.

“I realise that I have begun to grow a certain, uh, affection for you. Yes, I like you. I don’t know how it had begun. And I know it’s foolish of me to even act this way when we are set to marry. But I know, in my heart, that—“ a breath, as he nervously glances at your now surprised face and oh, he shuts his mouth. He opens it again, panicked, “My apologies. I shouldn’t have—let me—”

“Paul.” you stop him, hands against his one arm that seems to be quivering ever so slightly – how much of it can he hold?

He waits. Bated breath.

You smile, shy and sweet and it whips against him in a way that the wind of his mother planet had never managed to. Here is my dear friend, he thinks, my dear friend who was but a stranger a long time ago and is set to marry me once talks have been concluded. Here is my friend who I have poured my stupid, ill heart to and who still looks at me with kindness.

“I like you too.”

He blinks. He looks at you when you speak and watches, really watches, how your mouth forms against the words. I like you too.

“As a companion? Or friend, at best? Is that what your ‘like’ refers to?” he asks, nervous in the face of your admission. It makes you smile, as he rambles slightly, and though his countenance is that of poise and grace, beneath he is a a boy of tender heart. Smiling, you grab the front of his thick coat lapel and watch his words die on his tongue as you place a feathery, warm and soft kiss against his mouth. It was so unbelievable, he thought he’d conjured it all up – that you weren’t here, timidly kissing him with a sheepish smile on your face, and the stars of his home glinting against your skin. He lets his finger brush your cheek, still dumb-struck.

“Again.” he whispers. His heart hammers at the sound of your breathy laugh, as you repeat the action, conviction in your palms as they lay upon his cheek, “Again, please.”

“Again?” you ask, voice soft and muted as he hoists you atop of his front, chest to chest, and gazing at him like he was everything. Within the action, your golden insignia brushes his own, silver ones so briefly that he can make out a shape bourne from the contact of either two, before they separate. You wanted him, as he wanted you. And soon, you would wed, and the image of gold upon silver won’t be so unclear anymore. Maybe, somewhere warmer and less unbelievable, he could let himself grow familiar with the reality of you. But for now, he could settle for this to be a mere dream he had grown to relish so very much. Even now, he could almost believe none of this to be real, just a trick of the mind. Maybe fatigue or delusion.

He says your name so quietly, a plea, and it has never sounded sweeter, “Please.”

And yet, the soft press of your mouth upon his convinces him that it is so much more.

i wanted to incorporate some inferences of paul’s character from the early novel (mentat, solitude in terms of companions, great fighter), as well as the film, whilst wanting to stray away from the destruction of house atreides after the gifting of arrakis, which would explain why the marriage needs to take place. sooo no one dies! HURRAH!!!!!!!!! enjoy :]

#paul x you #dune paul x you #paul atreides fic #paul atreides x you #paul atreides fanfic #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x y/n #dune x you #dune x reader #dune part two x reader

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highhhfiveee · 6 months

Text

safety net [p3] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! reader gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her.

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago."

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!"

"barely, claire."

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time.

you wouldn't be able to take it this time.

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike.

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him.

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this.

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth.

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea).

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy.

you could tell mike lived by that, too.

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?"

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all."

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months.

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles.

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it.

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work.

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design).

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms.

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you.

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew.

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle.

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?"

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things."

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby."

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you.

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick.

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?"

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack."

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation."

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you; you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her.

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come,"

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented."

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step.

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?"

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes.

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand.

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action."

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long.

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

#fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #josh hutcherson #faire is writing stuff #heat is coming #hehe (:#also to all the 'chase cox's out there #my b lmao

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mariowritesforyou · 8 months

Text

Make your margins wider in your writing

Writing what feels like a dozen pages only to figure out after that you haven't even gotten through half a page is a universal experience across all writers.

What I'm about to tell you is one way I've found helps getting through that psychological toll.

One day I was writing my novel (a-luchador-detective-versus-a-lady-vampire sort of affair) when I got a certain idea. I picked up my copy of Authority by Jeff Vandermeer that I had on the desk and decided to make the line length in my work the same as that paperback edition. Margins were widened and line spacing was adjusted, leaving me with a sort of narrow manuscript.

You've no idea how much my productivity went up.

Logically, finishing a line became much faster, which lead to quicker finished pages, which produced a longer-looking manuscript. Of course, this doesn't mean that my writing was immediately faster per se,

but the feeling of being faster placebo-ed me in a way that increased my output.

Now I'm hitting my daily word-count much more consistently and I believe this was partly responsible.

Humans like numbers going up, if we wouldn't both videogames and billionares wouldn't exist. Seeing my page count increase is a reward to my brain which gives me a boost to get to the next page. By decreasing the length between rewards I'm put in a more constant progression loop, no longer feeling the slog of going up a hill and being met with a thousand more.

And at the end, if I want to check my actual progress, the real gauge will forever be the total word count, which we shouldn't obsess over, anyways.

The journey to create a novel or other piece of long-form media will always be more of a marathon than a race, and should be undertaken with the mindset of a marathon. All progress is incremental, and you should not be emotionally punishing yourself for not finishing a quarter of your book in the last week, as if that were somehow possible.

The length of a novel is such that any time-saving and efficiency-increasing life hacks we apply would only be reducing our-time-finish by weeks at the most, so why the rush?

I believe the key to writing faster is to write constantly first.

Can't be fast without stamina. So go ahead; write and make writing easier on you.

#writeblr #writer problems #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #creative writing #writing #mariowritesfoyou

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rboooks · 10 months

Note

Can you write a dead on main? Something with a bookstore au please!

Now that I know the ship names, you bet I can! I'll try my best to get through the ones I got requested in the past few days.

Jason liked bookstores.

They were a safe haven for him as a child, even when the fancier ones chased him off when he became a street kid. He adores the various series, the smell of books, and the quiet of stores. Often he thought that they were a small pocket to escape reality.

He had always known he could escape between the pages when everything had been terrible.

Maybe that's what lead him to this store even if it was a bit odd.

It was out of the way by the old docks that Joker used to run, thus making it condemned to the rest of the populace.

An old warehouse turned into a three-story bookstore. The entire first floor was aisles placed in side-way lines with the main counter as its center. The second floor had cozy reading nocks, plush futon couches, pillows, and blankets, complete with a small cafe. The rule was that anyone could take a book off the second-floor walls to read for free.

Employees asked to be informed if any food or damage was done to the second floor since the second book only had one copy of each. The owner would pull one off the bottom floor shelves to replace it.

The final floor had various reading rooms, but Jason loved that each room was based on a book. The room was professionally decorated to the point it left visitors feeling like they actually stepped into the world of the book.

Sculptures, playable settings, phenomenal little details the hard die fans could spot, and even sound systems playing sounds that sounded like the world. Jason could only compare it to Disney World or universal studios. The fact that people could rent the rooms for an hour for only fifteen dollars made them much more popular.

The third-floor rooms- ten in total- would rotate between series after a few months. Hence, the rooms were always different, but inside them were recommended books with the same kind of theme that was always the perfect recommendation, or maybe people just wanted to explore a room of their favorites.

Jason had visited the strange little bookstore with Tim after his brother had gone on a date with Bernard there.

Tim and Barnard had rented the "Hogwarts common rooms" room for three hours. Jason had been amazed by how real the four standard rooms looked, how there were even dragons spitting fire in one corner, moving portraits, a sorting hat ceremony, a small teddy bear decorating corner, and even a wand building second. All for only fifteen dollars. Tim had practically been glowing when he came home with his Ravenclaw bear and his own wand.

And maybe Jason is a huge Harry Potter fan; perhaps it was one of the first things he boned with Tim over, so maybe his brother had taken him to have an experience that he compared to the first time Bruce took him to Universal Studios.

Then he ran into the owner while one of the employees had been helping him pick runes to have burned into his wand.

Jason started to come back for an entirely different reason.

"Hi, Jason!" Elle says when she sees him climbing the stairs toward the third floor. She's the store's co-owner and has gotten to know him on a first-name basis due to how often Jason has visited the store in the past year. If they made a reward points system, Jason knows he be the highest one on the chart.

She's sitting at a table that is decorated like a galaxy. The books for these quarters' room themes are on the table's surface, all with a door key under them and a clipboard for the various hours.

Jason's eyes land on Pride and Prejudice, and his heart leaps.

"Hi, Elle. What's the wait time for door seven?"

She smiles, flipping the clipboard to the time slots. "The Ball at Netherfield Park has a lot of openings today. I got a three, four, six, or seven. When shall I fit thee dance card in milord?"

Jason laughs and checks his phone, ensuring he doesn't need to do anything for a while before saying. "Three will be fine. It's only thirty minutes. I'll go get a coffee while I wait."

She nods, writing his name down for three. She then passes him some disclosure forms he has to sign, forgoes the long-winded explanation of the rules, and sends him on his way, promising to send him a reminder text.

"Just so you know, Ball at Netherfield Park comes with a unique costume option. Five extra dollars to go through our costume section, and you can dress up like Mr. Darcy for a full hour."

Jason shakes his head though it's a very tempting offer. "Thanks, Elle but I'm okay with my street clothes today."

The other shrugs and checks her nails- their asexual theme today, he notes- before nonchalantly commenting. "Too bad. Danny really wanted someone to cosplay with him. Jane Austin's books are less prevalent in Gotham than we thought, and he's been dying to wear his Mr. Bingley outfit. I thought you like to, so I told him to come over when you arrive, but I can text him to cancel-"

"Five dollars, you said? For the full outfit or just like a coat?" Jason ignores her smug expression and quickly places a twenty on the table.

"Full outfit. What do you take us for?"

He glares at her just as the man of the hour himself runs up the stairs. Danny Fenton, founder, and co-owner of Ghost Zone Reads. He's in a light blue Regency period man coat that makes his eyes pop. A pair of white pants that hug his hips and thighs in all the right places, black knee boots, and a black gentle top hat.

Jason's knees go weak at the sight of him.

Danny's face is flush from the run, but his whole face lights up when he sees his sister and her guest. "Jason! I'm so glad you choose the Ball at Netherfield Park experience. I can't wait for our dance."

"Dance?" Jason chocks. Elle chuckles.

"You can't experience a Ball at Netherfield without the ball part dingus." She waves a hand at her brother. "Told him Dick canceled on you, so he offered to step in."

Jason never even mentions Dick to her but he's not about to call her out on her lie. She's doing him such a big favor.

"I always wanted to go to a Jane Austin ball!" He says instead, mentally wincing at how lame he sounds. Thankfully Danny's eyes only light up even more as the other man starts explaining the instructional videos installed in the ballroom mirrors so they can learn the real moves of Contra Dancing.

Jason falls just a tad bit more.

(Elle watches with a fond smile as Jason and Danny get lost in Austin's most significant works. She quickly texts her allies in Wayne Manor under the table. This is a big step in the "Make us in-laws" operation; the Fenton and Wayne children started a few months back. They were all tired of watching Danny and Jason dance around each other. Damian's idea to use Jason's favorite author was working fabulously.)

#dc x dp crossover #Ghost Zone Reads #Dead on main #request #jane austin the way to Jason's heart #Danny and Dani run a bookstore based off the idea of Ghost Zone's magic doors #It's a huge success #(Yes Danny kills the joker off screen when the man tries to take his store)

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duskyvenus · 8 months

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Super Blue Moon: What you need to hear right now

This is a general intuitive reading meant for entertainment purposes. Take whatever resonates. I am still practicing my intuitive ability so feedback would be really helpful :))

Pile 1

You might be wanting peace, a quiet life. I'm seeing walks in the nature, consuming healthy unprocessed food, lots of fruits. You might like red or orange colored fruits (could be any). I'm sensing changes in lifestyle. Maybe you will relocate or renovate your home (changing your aesthetics and style). Your soulmate(romantic) or current partner or future partner(whatever resonates) is sending you messages of affirmation. Also they might like to stare at you and admire your features lol. I'm hearing: It's all about the little things. Maybe this is something you believe in or it is about to become a theme in your life in the near future. A short trip or holiday might soothe your nerves a bit, preferably somewhere cooler. Overall, I think change is coming your away; there's this picture of letting things go and relaxing in a lodge in the mountains while sunlight creeps in through the window. Yeah lots of sunshine imagery in this pile. It's about how the sun slowly warms you up. Slowly and surely you will be moving to the next stage.

Pile 2

Similar to pile 1, I think you might be in need of some sunlight lol. I'm seeing something about hobbies, so maybe you need to get back to them? You might not have completed a previous painting, book, blanket or whatever. I'm also seeing cakes which means some kind of celebration. It might be your friend's birthday soon. Yeah I'm hearing about a dear friend, someone you think is your soulmate (for some of you, they are :] ). Or maybe a connection where either person has romantic feelings and the other feels neutral. Some of you might be studying hard and preparing for your future job and you're trying to keep a positive mindset. I see so many drawings and scribbles in a notebook. This is the student pile. I'm also seeing baked food and the aroma of cafes. Maybe you like to do your work in a cafe with a cup of coffee and some cake. Also you might be secretive and like to keep things to yourself. Might be a homebody. You are working to chase a reward and you're feeling frustrated because the path is so long. Don't be too hard on yourself. Set small goals and reward yourself for finishing them.

Pile 3

Whimsical and airy vibes for this pile. I'm hearing that you might have witnessed something paranormal? Or something that just can't be real. Hmm existential crisis? Questioning the universe? Questioning yourself? I'm seeing wings. You might be wanting to just fly away lol. Or they could be angel wings. You might be feeling lonely. Recently you might have ended a friendship or relationship OR you might have lost someone so you feel empty. I'm really sorry for your loss :( A big phase of your life suddenly came to an end so you're feeling lost. Old memories flashing in your head. Though I also feel that someone wants to approach you with hopes of making new memories with you. They seem like a very doting person and also calm. 'Calm'; your head is a mess and you feel like you're not able to think clearly. You might be asking yourself, "Am I seeing/hearing things?", "Why am I not able to do such a simple task?" Maybe your spirit guides or guardian angel want(s) to communicate with you and for that I'm hearing lavender and mint. Meditation may also help you to sort out your thoughts.

Pile 4

This is the happy-go-lucky pile. I'm seeing you have so much fun with your friends! You seem like the type to uplift people's moods. It feels empty when you're not around. You might feel pressured to keep up this cheerful image. Lately someone might have been rude to you or accused you of something or just bad-mouthed you. You might have felt taken aback because of this and tried to reflect on yourself. Don't worry, they're just jealous. Maybe you started thinking about the time when your demeanor was very different from now; you were not a cheerful person to begin with, but you started acting this way because you wanted to be treated differently. Now that there has been a sudden rejection that is asking you to re evaluate your choices, you are considering reverting back to your old self. Or maybe you think a lot about your friendships and just feel overwhelmed by the love :( This is so wholesome. You feel deeply and often wonder about the outcomes of your actions. I think that's why you wanted change, you genuinely wanted to be of help to someone. Your friends really appreciate it even though they won't admit openly (for some of you, your friend is a tsundere lol)

Pile 5

An ethereal energy in this pile. Stargazing and being mesmerized. You know that feeling you get when you look up at the stars and wonder if someone is watching you? I think your guardian angels want you to know that they are always there for you. If not a guardian angel then a deceased loved one. You have big aspirations but you often feel intimidated. You may have doubts about the path you're choosing. I just want to say that you have the star quality and you're blessed. I'm hearing fate and good luck. If you have been manifesting, try using candles or star shaped objects. You can even use them as a lucky charm. "You drew stars around my scars" - this may apply to you and someone you know. Something about light at the end of the tunnel. 'Hope' ; someone or something gives you hope to keep going. You're working really hard, you just wonder if you'll get the results. This kind of reminds me of pile 2 so you might want to check that out. "Funny how all dreams come true"

Pile 6

You might be talking to someone and you don't really know where this is going? You can say it's a situation-ship. Or you're crushing hard on someone. Either way this is making you giddy. You might also be transforming yourself and so all the changes are making you feel giddy. A very new feeling. You're trying to look at things differently. You're trying to concentrate. You're craving some form of affection. The message I'm getting is that self care will help you get that faster. Also I'm hearing that you have a vibe that is easy to mesh with. People often find you attractive even when you're not doing anything. "Aphrodite's blessings" - you may get the glow-up you've been waiting for. Similar starry night vibes as pile 5. You're also really good at giving compliments and appreciating the beauty of the smallest things. You are a very loving person if you are given the space to do so. "Hang in there baby." - your future partner could be very devoted to you.

A channeled message for everyone: Please eat well !! And have some good sleep!! Take your vitamins!!

#pick a card #intuitive readings #psychic readings #pick a pile #pick a card reading #tarot #divination #tarot reading #duskyvenus

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piratefishmama · 11 months

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Nest | Part 3

A Steddie A/B/O ficlet

Steve never liked to admit it out loud because it was very un-Alpha of him. But he actually really loved building nests. He loved the back and forth, the cooperation, the trust an Omega had to have in him to let him into that space, into that inherently Omegan trait, to allow him to help build something that only a mate would be allowed to enter.

It was a deeply intimate thing to share.

Alphas weren’t supposed to find real joy in something so Omegan.

That was supposed to be just a thing Alphas did to make their Omega’s happy, something they did purely for their mate not out of their own enjoyment. Steve… Steve genuinely loved making them.

Loved seeing all the different styles, and when he built them with an Omega, he loved seeing how comfortable that Omega was just burying themselves within it when it was done, loved curling up in the final product with them and just relaxing until the next stage of their heat reared its ugly head.

Steve loved every part of it.

And Eddie was just, throwing pillows at him, that dimpled smile unwavering. He just seemed so happy, his scent as pleasant as a warm summer breeze through the mountains. Made him want to go camping. He hadn’t been camping in years, now he longed for it.

“Alright, we have the sort of shape” Eddie announced, staring down at what definitely was not a typical nest shape, his hands on his hips, pleased smile on his face. Steve was nothing if not extremely supportive. It sort of reminded Steve of a splat. Like a comic book splat shape, he loved it. “…We do, right? Is this—do you think—”

“I think it’s perfect” Steve didn’t hesitate, and Eddie’s beaming grin was his reward. “Now for the blankets, we gotta add some structure to it.”

“Ughhh I’ve never been good at that, nothing ever stays tucked in like it’s supposed to” so many assumptions as to what Nests were supposed to look like. Steve really had to look into just where Eddie was getting all these assumptions from, what his sources were, because they sucked.

“Dooooo you want it to be tucked in properly? Nests can be loose too, it’s all about personal comfort.”

“…Should I want it to be tucked in?” Steve felt his heart break a little. Eddie really just… didn’t know. He had no experience. For someone older than himself it was heartbreaking that nobody had ever just… helped him with it. sure, he said he had his Uncle, but how experienced was his uncle with Omegas?

Probably not very experienced if this was the result. Not his uncle’s fault, it wasn’t his fault.

“How about this, we tuck it in, and then we see how you feel about it. How’s that sound?” Eddie looked at him for a moment, then back down at the nest, then back at him, as if assessing whether or not it was a good idea, Steve just waited. He’d already told Eddie that nests were personal, were unique to the Omega, there was no sense in repeating it.

“… Do you think we have time for that?”

“Sure, you’re still pre-heat, should have enough time to get at least two nests built before your heat actually hits, plus… you have me here Eddie, you’re not on your own, there’s no rush, I’ve got you.” This could be just as much a learning experience, as it could be a helpful aid to the Omega’s mental state during future Heats.

He’d know what he wanted, he’d know how to build a nest he could be comfortable in, he wouldn’t second guess himself anymore. He’d be okay.

“Okay… tuck em in for me, big boy” for him. Do it for him. An instruction from an Omega to an Alpha, not a request, an instruction.

Almost a command.

Steve felt himself shiver in delight, the urge to please, to be good enough, to impress his Ome—

No. Not his. Eddie wasn’t his. He shook his head. He was his patient. Dammit. Control yourself he chastised himself. He was in control, this was a vulnerable Omega, not his Omega, he was at work, and he was doing his job.

Plus, it was Eddie Munson for crying out loud!! He distinctly remembered finding Eddie Munson irritating. Where was that irritation now? Dammit.

“Steve?” Shit, Steve looked up, startled by the soft, hesitant question, he was looking at him, eyes wide, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Right! Yeah, shit—tuck em in, got it.” He was fine. Totally fine, nothing to worry about. Not like he’d just zoned out around an omega in heat. Definitely not like he’d just done that. It’d be fine. It’d have to be fine, his scent was pretty much all over the room at that point, his hands had been on the base materials of Eddie’s nest, that Omega wouldn’t let any other Alpha near it now.

Steve couldn’t give his position up to another Alpha. It’d be a goddamn bloodbath if one tried.

So he tucked those blankets in, one by one he kept to the funky shape Eddie had laid out, he put that little slip up to the back of his mind, and made absolutely certain that every blanket would remain tucked in nicely until the nest had a nice lip around the edges, leaving little gaps here and there where things collected from Eddie’s pack could be tucked in without risking the structure.

He did all of that, then invited Eddie to sit in the middle of it with him, he spent all that time meticulously doing all of that, knowing deep down, predicting the moment Eddie looked at those walls and with a little frown pinched between his brows, said “…I don’t like it.”

Steve just laughed, not unkindly, just a soft little laugh, then tilted his whole body to the side to knock into Eddie’s shoulder “Alright, then let’s drape em. C’mon, I’ll show you how to do it, so it stays put when things get messy.” It was worth it. The time he’d taken to make such a sturdy base was worth it to make sure Eddie knew exactly what he wanted in a nest.

Even if it meant undoing and redoing all of his hard work, just knowing Eddie would know, would be okay building his nests during future heats without him, made it all worth it.

Part 5

#PirateWrites #NestFiclet #Steddie #CW: A/B/O #No Upside Down AU #Omegaverse #Omega!Eddie Munson #Alpha!Steve Harrington

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howtofightwrite · 11 months

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Just a casual question: What lightsaber style do you prefer out of one-handed, two-handed, double-bladed or dual wielding?

We’ll leave out the Lightsaber Forms from the EU, because they are inconsistently defined between sources.

No, no, no. You ask me what my favorite lightsaber is, you get the answer whether you want it or not. The answer may surprise you. It’s (probably) considered the second dumbest lightsaber weapon ever invented in the extended universe with the exception of the lightsaber nunchaku.

Are you ready? Do you have your guesses?

The Lightwhip.

The chosen weapon of Dark Ladies of the Sith and the Nightsisters of Dathomir back when the Sisters weren’t all dark side practitioners and rode rancors.

(This is my favorite. For reference, Starke’s favorite is single blade Form IV: Ataru. He’s boring.)

Now, I agree with the general fandom that the lightwhip is a dumb, impractical weapon that’s more likely to dismember its wielder than it is their opponent. Only someone with a high level of skill, prescience, and telekinesis could make effective use of a lightwhip’s dismemberment murder frenzy without killing themselves. Fortunately, that’s exactly the base level of skills most Force sensitives possess. Probably most important, the lightwhip is the exact sort of dumb we see with real weapons in the real world. This includes the more wild examples like the urumi, the chain whip, and the three-section staff. And, it should be said, I have watched living black belts concuss themselves with the three-section staff while trying to figure out how to use it. All for the Rule of Cool. So, while I accept its impracticality, I refuse the argument that the lightwhip being any more unrealistic in use or invention than the rest of the lightsaber weapon family. Does it have a high skill floor? Absolutely. Is it a safe weapon compared to the rest of its very dangerous family? Absolutely not. Would a student potentially dismember or murder themselves learning to use it? Yes, and that’s why it’s fun. (I’ll add a small caveat that the average student could also dismember themselves with a normal lightsaber, so this isn’t just a danger posed by the lightwhip.)

The lightwhip is a weapon of the Dark Side. Its battle style would be (and should be) wild, chaotic, and nigh uncontrollable. There’s no way to use it safely and it belongs in the hands of a wielder who is straight up thrilled to cut down both their allies and enemies in equal measure. This is the weapon of a murderous lunatic in black leather, and gets even more wild when it switches to a Cat o’ Nine to bring on nine weaving laser tendrils instead of just one. The lightwhip is the sexy Catwoman reference that transcends its genre when we really start to think about how intimidating it’d be to see that thing on the battlefield in the hands of a novice and, especially, an expert.

The standard use for a whip in the real world is as a support tool for your primary weapon, such as a rapier. The whip doesn’t do much damage on its own, leaving only small, painful cuts and lacerations so it transitions into a means of harassment. The advantage of the whip is that it attacks at odd, circular angles which are difficult (if not impossible) to block and will curve into a strike around the opposing weapon. The rippling movement makes it difficult to see and even more difficult to predict. If kept in constant motion, this difficulty triples because the disparate movements blend together.

Now, take this setup and add the lightshow. Instead of a weapon that does light lacerations, we have a weapon that deals massive burns if it doesn’t straight up dismember. It will cut through everything and everyone. Conventional fighting styles fall apart against it. More importantly, because it is a burning plasma ribbon, it doesn’t need to follow the standard rules of physics. The lightwhip is beautiful in its raw, chaotic brutality, it’s high risk, high reward nature, and I love the way it hard counters the standard philosophy of lightsaber combat with a literal curveball. Any opponent who faces it is forced into new, creative approaches for their very survival.

Lastly, I love what the lightwhip says about its wielder as an expression of their vicious, ferocious, highly aggressive personality. This weapon requires commitment and dedication. It’s absolutely fair to say the person who wields a lightwhip has a fanatical, if not suicidal, bent. After all, they’d willingly risk death to master it. They love destruction. They don’t care about outside consequences or property destruction. They go it alone.

I’ll admit the lightwhip’s true potential is too violent for most of Star Wars and, like most Star Wars weapons, it very much lives on the Rule of Cool. One of the sadder aspects with the lightwhip is that, while I love the weapon and its potential, any discussion of it gets mired in sexism. Every appearance of the lightwhip comes with the sexy NSFW Dark Side Dominatrix bent and leads to the lightwhip not being given the consideration it’s potential deserves.

My favorite saber is Darth Maul’s saber staff from The Phantom Menace, because versatility allows for use of both one and two. My favorite lightsaber form (which should now surprise no one) is Form VII: Vaapad.

All that said, I do enjoy a good Dark Side Dominatrix as much as I enjoy a moody and hooded Dark Side Goth. And I genuinely love dumb and, seemingly, impractical weapons when the reward justifies their risk. If there’s a general writing advice takeaway here, always consider the practicality of an impractical but cool weapon, address i’s rewards as well as its risks, and pair it with a suitable personality. The lightwhip is not a weapon that belongs in the hands of a Jedi or, really, any individual who possesses any degree of restraint. It’s for a character who merrily expresses raw, raging power at every opportunity and willing to risk destroying themselves along with everyone else for victory.

There’s a weird angle with the Star Wars EU where they tried to establish the lightwhip as weaker than the lightsaber (*cough* woman’s weapon *cough*) with less cutting power even when it doesn’t use a physical cord, which makes absolutely no sense. The lightsaber is the more versatile weapon, while the lightwhip is more specialized and circumstantial. Which fits with the patterns of real world weapons technology.

This a long circle round to saying that the weapons we choose for our characters act as personality tells. Which is why it’s important to give a lot of thought and consideration to any weapon’s historic use and purpose before attaching it. Weapons communicate more than we might expect, both via their situational viability and associated cultural myths. It’s important to choose whether you’ll address this, especially if you’re not planning to intentionally communicate that message or make those personality traits part of the character’s identity. Weapons are tools and, like with all tools, different tools attract different personalities. In fiction, we the authors often decide this from an external perspective. Once a choice has been made, always give yourself a chance to think about it from a character’s internal perspective. Why did Character X choose this weapon? Why do they want to use it? What does this weapon do for them that another weapon doesn’t? Or, what makes that other weapon less attractive?

You might find yourself with an answer or story beat you hadn’t previously considered.

Food for thought.

-Michi

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#star wars #lightsabers #michi answers #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #how to fight write

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