#sometimes the things i write aren't 'as good' as other things i've written because the point is just to put ideas somewhere

[maggot-monger]

the difference between writing for my own highest standards of quality and writing because i need the ideas to exist somewhere...unsure how to qualify this difference but it is a decision to make every time i start writing

#just interesting to consider what matters most in different writing contexts i think? #when i got back into this fandom i reread all the fic i wrote back in 2013ish #it was very interesting and fun to see what past!me was thinking about #and sad to know that i used to have a lot of thoughts i never wrote down back then that i can't remember the details of anymore #a big part of why i started writing spn fic again in 2020 was to have a record of as many of my thoughts on it as possible #in case i ever leave and come back again #(*fic and meta/passing thoughts) #sometimes the things i write aren't 'as good' as other things i've written because the point is just to put ideas somewhere #not to make them as stylistically polished or internally consistent as possible #i wish i had the energy/motivation/time to make all of them perfect but there's a trade off of not writing as many as i do #and for the sake of a lot of what i'm doing here the quantity matters more to me than the quality #there are exceptions (sometimes quality is indispensible for conveying the ideas even) #and i'm still me so i rarely am going to put out something i'm not at least mostly happy with #but sometimes the point is just for it to exist and be readable rather than for it to meet standards i'd otherwise hold myself to #i'm still not getting all of my ideas written down but it's more than it would otherwise be ig #but also there are some fics i have on ao3 from the last year and a half that i wish i'd sat with longer #and that i would consider rewriting if those ideas become things i want to revisit enough long enough to hone more #anyway #long tag musing while working on writing something that absolutely isn't fic lmao #personal

[fernshawart]

How to write a cane user character

(Written by a cane user)

A few months ago, I wrote a small guide on good disabled characters and why they were good that gathered quite the attention, and I thought that doing another more specific guide this time would be interesting for writers or just people that are curious ! This guide will include general informations, some things to do, some things to avoid and some ideas that might revolve cane users's lives.

Things to know about cane users

Cane users are pretty diverse, and putting us in little boxes usually isn't the best idea if you want to make a character that has substance and isn't just "the disabled one". Here some infos about cane users that might be helpful knowledge !

Canes don't have ages. Most cane users in media are portrayed to be old, but truly, anyone can have the need to wield a cane ! I've been using mine ever since I was 17.

Can users can have a large variety of problems for their canes. Some canes are used to avoid pain from effort. Some canes are used for balance purposes. Some canes are to make walking less exhausting (works the same as walking sticks !) And sometimes, it's multiple problems at once.

Not everyone needs their cane 24/7. Some always need it, some can make small efforts without it but overall often need it, and some people, like me, can spend quite a lot of time without it. I almost never use my cane in my house, and mostly take it outside !

People with canes can run. We're not necessarily slow, I'm even faster than a lot of my friends.

Not using a cane can come with consequences, but not always. Some people might be able to walk without a cane but then suffer horrible consequences, but for others, canes are just a commodity for specific occasions.

Canes don't have to be looked down upon. Look at some characters with canes that look cool as hell ! Arsène Lupin, Roguefort Cookie, Brook ... Their canes serve their style !

We can be pretty healthy. Some people can have canes just because they were born with a bent leg and that's it. Our cane doesn't define our health status.

Canes aren't a curse. Think of them as something positive. It's a tool to make our lives better. You don't see someone sitting on a chair and think "awh, it's sad that they need a chair". It's more something like "hey it's cool that this chair is here so they can sit down"

Things to do

Make them use their cane. And when I mean use, I mean that canes are just funky long sticks usually made out of metal. Have fun with it ! Let them use it as a weapon ! Trust me, one hit in the knees with a cane and you're DOWN. Use it to reach stuff that's too high for everyone ! Have fun. Be creative.

Let them decorate their cane. It's an extension of their body ! You usually put on clothes that you like, don't you ? It's the same for a cane. If they like cutesy stuff, let them paint in it pastel colors ! If they like a more flashy style, add some stickers on it ! If they're a fancy person, give them a beautiful crafted cane with jewels on it !

You can make them a little shy or uneasy about their cane. Some people don't feel worthy of confident enough to wield one. It's not rare to see people think they're "not disabled enough to do so"

But on the other hand, you can do the complete opposite !! Make them proud of that cane ! Make them act like they're feeling pretty and more confident with it ! One thing i like to think about with my own cane is that I look like a cool gentleman. That boosted my confidence immensely.

Things to avoid

Don't make it their whole world. And by that, I do not mean that their cane shouldn't be a defining trait of their personality. Think of Toph from ATLA. She is blind, and you usually can't think of her character without describing her as blind. However, that isn't her entire personality trait. Make cane users have a goal in life, friends who enjoy them for who they are and not just pity them, have fun ... Don't just make them the disabled one.

Don't try to make the character's life just a plain disaster unless it's the focus of your story and you really know what you're talking about. Having a character who's always in pain, who feels bad about relying on their cane and/or who's angry at the entire world for being disabled is a REALLY tricky subject to use if you don't want them to be either a mass of unhappiness and angst for no good reason or some inspirational porn of the character who inside is deeply tortured but outside keeps up a facade because they shouldn't cry to avoid making others uneasy.

Do not, and I repeat, do NOT try to heal them, especially in a magical way. Bad idea. A lot of disabled people's goal isn't to be healed. It's to live a normal life. Making it so the ultimate goal for them is to be healed makes it as if they were worthless as long as they were disabled. Making their situation better physically or mentally is one thing. Curing them completely is really bad. "But some disabled folks want to be cured !" True, true. But if you are able bodied, I'm not sure if you can have the right mind to understand all of the complex details about this situation that leads to someone's life choices and the end result may look like you think the only thing that can make disabled people happy is being freed from their condition. I think it's best to just avoid it altogether. If you need a more nuanced idea, try to give them a solution that still has a few downs ! For exemple, a prosthetic that feels like a real arm, acts like a real arm and basically replaces it perfectly is a full cure. But a prosthetic that takes time to adjust to, needs repairs sometimes and doesn't look 100% like an arm can be a better narrative choice

Smaller thing, but don't make the handle uneasy to wield if you draw the character design. You can decorate most of the cane, but if you have chunky spiky decorations on the place you're supposed to clench your hand over, you're gonna hurt yourself. I've seen quite a lot of jewel handles or sculpted metal handles and usually their not good. If it's detailed metal, your hand will end up cramped in little parts and it can hurt. If it's a jewel, it's so easy for it to slip out of your hand it's unpractical.

List of tropes/ideas of scenes/details about canes to help you write new situations !

If you walk with a cane during winter, you can't put your hand in your jacket to get warm and there's a high chance your hand will get freezing. So after a long walk, you get an excuse for another character to hold their hand and warm them up.

If the handle is metallic, you get the opposite problem during summer. You can burn yourself so easy ! Easy accident if you want someone to help and get closer to the disabled person without it necessarily involving their disability.

Canes are SUPER useful when you're walking upon heights. They make things really easy, just like hiking poles on mountains ! I live on volcanoes and whenever we clim on a harsh slope, I'm always the first to get up there. Good moment for your character to get a boost of confidence if they get all the way up somewhere before their friends !

The first time using your cane feels magical. If you have chronic pains, it makes you feel like your pain disapear. If you can't walk right, it feels like everything is suddenly alright. The moment where a character chooses to wield a cane can be huge for character development. It's a moment of fear because of the impact a cane has on their appearance, but also a moment of confidence and relief.

Canes fall. All the time. And after a while, it becomes fucking comical. Trust me, putting a cane against the wall, seeing it fall and doing it three times again in a row while it doesn't want to stay up makes you embarrassed but also makes you want to laugh because of how stupid it looks.

When you get a cane, you stop being invisible. When you walk outside, generally speaking, people don't look at you. They don't care about you. But when you get a cane, people start to stare at you for no other reasons that you have a cane. Half of them are just curious, especially if you're young. The other half has a very specific look. The "oh, you poor thing" look. Which is, trust me, particularly awful to get, especially when you're just existing and doing nothing special. How does your character react to this ? How do they feel about it ?

I believe that is all I had in mind. I may add some more details in the future if I get other ideas, but this should already be a good start. I would be thrilled to answer questions if you have some, either in my askbox or through DMs.

I will tag this post with characters holding canes that aren't necessarily considered cane users but that some people may be interested in writing as such. Feel free to tell me if you'd like to see tags being added !

Edit : I'm highly encouraging everyone to look at the tag section under this post where a lot of other can users are sharing their experiences !!

#disability #writing #writing prompt #writing guide #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #roguefort cookie #gingerbrave #Brook one piece #writing tips #writing advice #archive of our own #long post #spoonie #handicap #cane #cane user #kaz brekker #capn cuttlefish #cap'n cuttlefish

[marthawrites]

could you write smut for Aemond like prompts 1, 15, 11, 52, 49, 25, 13, and 26? They are all so good 🥹 Reader could be his betrothed (Targaryen would be perfect but if you aren't comfortable then Stark is great) and Aemond didn't want to wait until the wedding

Hello dear nonnie! You requested this back in September - I apologize for making you wait so long for this story. If you're still around I hope it's what you want, and that you enjoy this rendition of Aemond and his (fanon) niece!

Shadows, Beastsong, and Dragonblood

Aemond Targaryen x niece reader

Word count: 7.6k+ (whoops)

About: Growing up you and your uncle Aemond always shared a special kinship. As you grew older, tension between your family and his rose. Moving to Dragonstone led to long years of not seeing each other. When you and your mother visited her father, King Viserys, yours and Aemond's relationship changed. It changed further, years later, upon your final visit to the capitol.

Includes: Fluff, angst, tension, and smut. Featuring incest (uncle x niece), mentions of Aemond's virginity loss at the brothel, mentions of minors sexually experimenting, male receiving oral sex, vaginal fingering, adult reader's virginity loss, and unprotected vaginal sex.

Note: Hello lovely reader! This story follows canon events. HERE is the prompt list used. Reader is technically a Velaryon!Strong bastard who personally identifies as a Targaryen because she looks just like her mother, Rhaenyra. Reader is implied to have pale skin, silver hair, and purple eyes - everything else is entirely up to you. Rhaenys has her canon black hair in this fic. I heavily debated about breaking this into three parts but decided to keep it as a single story. This fic has many firsts for me and it's different than those I've written in the past. It took a lot of effort and I hope you enjoy it!

I.

The years following Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon’s marriage bared fruit after fruit. It wasn't long long after Jacaerys’ birth that Rhaenyra began to show signs of another pregnancy. A woman’s body goes through tremendous changes during, for, and after childbirth, and sometimes her moon cycle can take half a year to return to normal. The princess’ first moon’s blood after his birth hadn’t the chance to appear before the maester’s deemed her pregnant for a second time. 

Another boy, Laenor hoped, to help strengthen the Velaryon line. A healthy babe, Rhaenyra hoped, to love and grow.

Their second child was pinker and paler than Jace upon entering the world. Unlike your brother who had a fine covering of dark hair over his head, yours was so pale it looked akin to winter’s first snow upon your head. A tiny, sweet, healthy baby girl who would grow into the very image of your mother.

And, again, after you came into the world, Rhaenyra showed signs of pregnancy soon after. Laenor got what he hoped for with their third child: another boy, Lucerys, with a splattering of dark hair over his head, too.

Another three years would pass before your little brother, Joffrey, was born. Dark of hair and dark of eyes just like his two older brothers.

As you all grew, none of your brothers showed any signs of Targaryen or Velaryon features. They all had rich brown eyes, dark curly hair, and were quicker to tan than you. Whereas you were a copy of your mother. A true Targaryen beauty: silver hair, pale skin, and eyes the color of amethyst. If Rhaenrya was the Realm’s Delight, then you were the Charm of the Realm. The only thing you lacked as a Targaryen was a dragon. Disappointingly, the egg that was placed in your crib never hatched. The older you grew, and the more you learned of the world, the more you hoped to have a dragon of your very own one day. Rides on Syrax with your mother–thrilling as they were–left you sad. You wanted to be in charge of the reins. You wanted to speak and command a dragon. You wanted the power of your Targaryen ancestors; a conqueror like Queen Visenya or Queen Rhaenys.

You and your brothers grew alongside your uncles, Aegon and Aemond, and your aunt, Helaena, in King’s Landing. As young children you all, for the most part, got along well. You and your uncle Aemond shared one profound thing together: neither of you had a dragon. It was a topic of extreme sensitivity for him. And because of this, sadness, anger, and even embarrassment hung around him from a young age. You wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t carry those emotions in your heart, too, because you did, but Aemond’s was heavier. Suffocating. 

Shameful. 

When everyone else trained in the dragonpit you and Aemond were known to stay in the library together. You bonded quickly through tales of your shared ancestry, love of philosophy, and the histories. Much to Aemond's annoyance, your penmanship surpassed his own. When you told your mother you wanted to be a scribe when you grew older she laughed. “Princesses aren't scribes. You will do much more wondrous things than live your life by the quill.”

You nodded, ever sweet to your mother, and still practiced your writing. Your septa and parents praised you–and Aemond scowled in your retellings. It made you giggle. It was harmless and the extra attention (however negative it seemed to be) from your uncle who was barely older than you made your heart soar; emotions you couldn’t quite name soared too.

He surpassed you in everything physical. If it happened in the training yard, he had you beat by a league.

You surpassed him in subtlety. At first, you were the one who snuck up on him. You were the one who showed him secret passageways in the Red Keep, as well as hidden nooks and crannies that had surely been forgotten.

It didn’t take Aemond long to exceed your skill, however.

Time went on and life continued. With each passing year the innocence of childhood melted like candlewax. You all stopped playing as often until play happened no longer. When once there were shared sweets, games of tag, and exaggerated stories of ‘grand adventures’ to the stables, now there was gossip. Whispered words, sniggers behind hands, and an air of aloofness that had never been there before took over.

“Why do you and your family treat me and my brothers like this now, uncle?” You asked Aemond with flushed cheeks and eyes filled with unshed tears. Whether it were anger or hurt he could not tell. Your heart couldn't, either.

“They look nothing of their father. Or my sister,” he answered plainly with an edge of something you couldn't quite decipher. 

“And what of our cousin Rhaenys? Hm? The Baratheon blood runs strong in her for she is black of hair. No different than my brothers!”

“‘Tis different,” Aemond answered curtly, still refraining from speaking bluntly to you about what his mother gossiped about.

“It's not!” You proclaimed.

Not long after that confrontation did Laena Velaryon suffer an unfortunate death. Her funeral was memorialized in King's Landing with the closest of her kin. And, as the God's would have it, it was that fateful night Aemond gained a dragon–Vhagar, the largest and oldest in the world–in exchange for his eye.

A small price to pay for the way the young prince would bloom beneath her wings.

Rhaenyra’s family, as well as Alicent’s family, were all summoned by King Viserys to make sense of what happened to Aemond and why it happened. Tension swelled and crackled through the collected room like living storm clouds. You stood quietly behind your mother, purple eyes wide and scared as you surveyed the chaos. Even as all the kids yelled over one another trying to make their side of the story heard, you didn’t utter a peep. How desperately you wanted to ask Aemond himself what happened. How terribly you wanted to hold his hand through the pain of his slashed face being stitched up. How awfully you wanted to kiss him if only to let him know he could still feel something–to see if he could still feel something. 

The King seemed to hold no love for his son as he asked him–ordered him–to tell the truth. You felt your heart breaking as you witnessed father and son hold a stare off that could alight the entire room aflame. Two dragons, one old and one young, challenging each other, daring each other, their teeth seconds away from rending into the other.

The following moments were a blur and you didn’t realize what was happening until Alicent ran to your mother with her husband’s dagger clenched in her hand. You screamed and were pulled away in time to not get pushed or stumbled over. Blood spilled and the tension broke in a devastating clash of emotions. Emotions you, as a child, couldn’t understand, not fully. 

Kings Landing was no longer safe for your family. 

During the following days, before departing for Dragonstone, you were able to sneak to Aemond a handful of times. He didn’t talk much. You never pressured him to. Often, it was only silence and your uncle’s soft sobs that filled the otherwise quietness of his bedchamber. It was at the peak of those times, those heart wrenchingly raw moments, that you would sing to him. Admittedly you were no singer–flat most of the time and awkwardly sharp at others–but neither of you cared. You weren’t even sure if the song you sang was proper in its pacing and pronunciations. It was a song you both deemed secret: learned from the pages of an Old Valyria history book, paced to your own tune, the ancient words were sung with all the wonder of adolescence. 

Vhargar and Aemond’s bond had already been forged by grit, determination, and a kind of stupidity that only young boys held, and it grew by the day. You weren’t sure if Vhagar’s roars were louder while Aemond quietly sobbed into your comforting embrace, or while he was utterly silent. You wondered what brewed beneath the surface during those times. Part of you was afraid of what that silence might gestate. There were many tales of beasts being soothed by music, and so you sang and hoped your ancient song might keep his beast at bay.

“We’re leaving for Dragonstone at first light, uncle,” you said to him a little sadly. You hadn’t ever been away from Aemond. Would the libraries at Dragonstone offer the same respite as the ones here at King's Landing? Would you see hopeful glimpses of him from the corner of your eye only to realize it a play of your imagination?

While he acknowledged your words he didn’t say anything in reply. 

“When do you think we’ll see each other again?” You asked softly, tentatively.

“Likely when we are grown and free to make our own decisions,” he answered, words flat. 

It stung. It hurt. “Then I shall tame one of the wild dragons and fly to visit you.” Aemond’s single eye, that lovely hue so similar and so different to your own, glittered at you for the briefest second. So he can still feel things, you thought to yourself. The corner of his mouth twitched in tandem, and before you could stop yourself you learned forward and pressed the gentlest kiss to the outside of his mouth. You didn’t stay to catch his reaction for you turned on your heel and walked down the secret passage from whence you came; naught more than a whisper of silken skirts.

Such affection would be improper by Gods and men alike if you were born of a different bloodline. The Targaryens were closer to Gods than men, however, and so you did not have to play life by man’s traditions. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and your heart pulled to Aemond. A surge of energy rushed through you and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him properly. But when you turned to look over your shoulder, you only saw darkness. He was already gone.

II.

Dragonstone’s libraries were much different than the big library in the Red Keep. Over the following years, you finally, slowly, began to feel peace akin to what you and Aemond shared. Similar, but not quite.

Rhaenyra married her uncle Daemon and they had given you two more little brothers: Aegon and Viserys. Part of you missed life in King’s Landing with its bright sunshine, lavish gardens, and wide populace. Despite the grimness of Dragonstone, however, this place truly felt like home. An ancient seat of Targaryen glory, the the Targaryen's of old spared nothing while crafting this castle with arcane arts, dragonfire, and sorcery. The fabled magic of it sent your veins thrumming. If it weren’t for Aemond you might not ever want to go back to King’s Landing. Aegon’s garden was your favorite place in all of Dragonstone with its tall dark trees, wild roses, and thorny hedges. You wrote diary entries as well as letters there. You and Aemond wrote back and forth a few times over the years, but just like in childhood when games of chase were played no more, your letters, too, stopped. Still, the garden with its piney scent and tart cranberries remained your place of solace.

A letter from King Viserys arrived some time after you’d turned fifteen. Rhaenyra pulled you aside that same day, away from your brothers, and said, “father’s health is beginning to fail. I'm going to see him. Daemon said he will stay here while I visit on dragonback. Would you like to come with me? I’d love for you to. And I know Syrax would too,” she smiled hopefully, giving your forearm a gentle squeeze in annunciation.

You blinked, slightly taken back, before beaming a bright smile. “Of course, mother! I miss my grandfather and would love to see him.”

“I’ll send a raven. Perhaps he will have a belated nameday gift for you,” your mother answered with one of her playful expressions. 

A return letter was indeed sent and over the next few days Rhaenyra and Daemon made plans for the upcoming week. It wouldn’t be a long stay but that didn’t stop excitement from crawling up your spine and settling in your belly. How would uncle Aemond be? It’d been so long since you two had seen each other! It'd even been a long time since you wrote to one another. Would he remember you as you remembered him? Would he even care to see you?

You donned your warmest wool and most comfortable leathers for the flight to King’s Landing. Gray clouds broke to open blue sky and the brisk salty air had you feeling like you were in charge of the flight. Syrax knew the way well and flew right where she knew to–the dragonpit.

There wasn’t a grand welcome for your arrival and yet somehow it felt more comfortable than being paraded around for hours on end and being forced to entertain a grandiose feast. Viserys–he did look ailing, much more than you last remembered–and Alicent welcomed Rhaenyra and yourself. Ser Criston Cole and Aemond stood with them.

He did want to see you!

“Father! I’m sorry we haven’t been back sooner. Daemon and I–”

Excited hugs were exchanged between the three of you, and the conversation droned out as pressure built behind your ears; dull ringing taking over as anxiety, excitement, and something else unnamed thrilled along your spine. Aemond, only a short time older than you, was no longer the boy you remembered. He’d grown tall and sharp. Any softness of childhood melted away during the last few years. Placed over his damaged left eye was a simple black leather eyepatch. It stood out starkly against his pale complexion–though, it matched the rest of his black leather attire. His slash healed well, you thought privately, but a gnarly scar remained. It looked painful.

Aemond peered at you looking at him; keen. Something simmered beneath his eye and you were reminded of singing to him all those years ago–how you’d hoped to soothe any beast that might be growing in the shadows. The corners of his bowed mouth quirked.

“Darling?” Your mother asked, her voice finally making sense in your head as she turned to regard you closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

With a quick flutter of blinks you looked up to her. “Sorry. Yes, I’m feeling alright. A bit tired from the flight is all. May I have a snack before supper?”

“Of course,” she replied with a reassuring squeeze of your hand.

Alicent smiled. You always thought her pretty. A part of you wondered how none of her children shared her brown eyes or auburn hair. “Check with the kitchen. I’m sure there’s breads and cheeses available at the very least. Wine, too, I imagine.” She looked between you and Aemond before adding, “let Aemond take you. He’s been quite excited to see you since Rhaenyra’s letter.”

“Uncle,” you breathed, surprised by your lack of breath upon saying his name. “I daresay I barely recognize you.”

“I could say the same, niece. It's been many years,” he said with an inclination of his head. “You are looking a little faint. Let’s find you some food, hm?” He asked. 

At first, conversation proved to be sparse. Before, things had always been so easy with Aemond and silence had always been comfortable. Now, it didn’t feel easy nor did the silence feel comfortable. Anytime you looked up at him, or over to him, he was already looking at you. His attention barely seemed to wander elsewhere. You ate until you felt better while Aemond pretended to eat. Slowly, with effort on your part, conversation picked up. Before too long the air of awkwardness lifted and your shoulders relaxed.

Aemond seemed to notice, too.

Three days followed and each proved to be more eventful than the last. You’d met up with your aunt and uncle, Helaena and Aegon, and happily–even if Aegon's jests were more perverse than you ever remembered–caught up with them. They were married now. Though, you saw no sort of physical or emotional connection between them. You liked Helaena; you wondered, privately, if life was treating her well, and if she found any enjoyment within it. The faraway look in her eyes suggested not, but you remembered her always being a peculiar child. She didn’t always have both feet in this world, you realized, and you didn’t feel any sort of jealousy for her otherworldly gift. Did dreamers fall into a silent abyss while slumbering? Or did they even dream when they slept, resulting in a never ending barrage of sight and madness?

On the fourth day Aemond introduced you to Vhagar. Sympathy–or perhaps pity–shone in his eye when you told him you still hadn’t bonded with a dragon. “And here I remember you saying you would tame a wild dragon so you might fly across the sea to visit me?” He proclaimed with an arch of brow, snark and jest in equal measurements.

“It’s not quite so easy. I enjoy my skin and my hair. I have heard many tales of brave men trying to bond with those dragons only to end up as a pile of ash. Or forever scarred. Or–” you lowered your voice and tipped closer to him, adding with a whisper, “–lacking of limbs.” You tilted your chin, purple eyes glittering with playfulness; teasing, testing.

“Hm,” he stifled a laugh with a press of his lips. “Both of those are a marvel. It would very much be a shame to scathe the beauty of Old Valyria.”

Your heart jumped and you blushed. Surely he was only being kind, right?

He flew you on Vhargar until the spilled watercolors of sunset mottled into gray. Upon returning to the Red Keep, tucked away in one of your secret childhood places, Aemond dared to kiss your lips. Stunned and exhilarated alike, you returned the affection with fervor. He wasn’t your first kiss, but the things that sparked and webbed through your body were much more intense than any before. “Aemond…,” you whispered against his mouth. “We shouldn’t be doing this, uncle.”

“You can stop any time,” he rasped in reply, eye dark.

In a shuddered breath you admitted, “I don’t want to.”

“Me either.”

You kissed until voices and footsteps filled the nearby corridor. Hiding your giggles behind a hand, you slunk away in direction to your chamber leaving Aemond behind. You turned to see where he might be going. Already he’d turned on his heel and strode in the opposite way. He didn’t follow. That night–with a thundering pulse– you dreamt of wild roses, flying, and your hands on your uncle’s chest while he kissed your neck.

The following day was yours and your mother’s last day in the capitol. She intended to leave after lunch, and until then she let you do as you please. Requesting, of course, to be back in time to leave on time. With how much you missed the rest of your family you could only imagine how much she missed them!

“Come to Dragonstone with us. I don’t want to leave you so soon. I can show you all my favorite places at home. At the ancient seat of our family,” you added the last bit with bright eyes in hopes of seducing him away with you.

“My place is not there,” replied Aemond. “I am to stay here with my mother and siblings. ‘Tis my duty as second son.”

You knew, as second son, that Aemond would have to carve his own path with fire, blood, and teeth–heavy emphasis on the latter, most likely.

“Daemon can train you. Our castle yard has an impressive training pit. It’s different from the one here. Everything is different there. There’s some nights when the magic in the walls makes my blood sing. There is no magic like that left here,” you tried to coax him further, stepping close so you had to look up at him with soft eyes. Eager eyes.

Instead of accepting or denying your request he leaned down and kissed you like he did yesterday. And just like yesterday you warmly accepted the affection. The blood of the dragon runs thick, and dragonblood runs hot. Despite your relation, and despite yourself, you found yourself wanting. Needing. He was too. You could tell by the tightness of his pants. Two young dragons hidden away amongst sparse candlelight in a secret passage perhaps only Maegor the Cruel knew of. “I’ve always wanted to try something. Will… will you let me?”

He pulled back to peer at you curiously. “What is it?”

Slowly, running on an instinct that any wanton young woman harbored, you sank down onto your knees before him. “You can tell me to stop at any time. Okay?”

Aemond wasn’t an idiot. He nearly spent in his pants at the very sight of you lowering like that. Aegon had taken him to a brothel on the Street of Silk for his thirteenth nameday, and he lost the last innocence of boyhood within those perfumed walls; a secret not many knew. And, perhaps less knew how much he despised it–how it disgusted him. The thought still made his stomach turn.

But you? His beautiful, perfect niece, with your epitome of Targaryen beauty?

He never asked you to stop as you sated your curiosity. The rush of sensation that blazed through his body was more intense than anything he’d yet experienced. At the peak of his pleasure he swore he blacked out.

He returned the gift as best as he could with his fingers. 

You barely made it back in time to your mother to fly back home. You sincerely hoped she didn’t ask any questions about where you were or why you were running late.

III.

As the Gods would have it, it would be another few years before Rhaenyra and her family were summoned to King’s Landing for, perhaps, an even more dire situation than the first: the legitimacy of Lucerys’ claim to Driftmark and its throne. It was a matter already settled many years ago by none other than King Viserys. Yet, still, conflict stirred with Vaemond Velaryon and his proclamation.

A never ending political headache for the King who’s health was in such despair it was a miracle he lived to see each new morning.

Similar to when you and your mother arrived three years prior, there wasn’t a grand welcome awaiting your family. In fact there was… nothing. Tension sparked to new heights and you wanted nothing more than to crawl into yourself and disappear. While not entirely disappearing, you and your brothers made way to the private guest bedchambers; Rhaenyra made sure to have rooms arranged for all of you prior to arriving. Before leaving, she told all of you that she would summon you later once things were settled. Or supper. Whichever came first.

Truthfully you had no plans to eat with everyone. Uncaring of any potential consequence it might bring you loosened your hair, stripped down to your shift, and plopped in bed so heavily that a plume of dust rose from the sheets. If you were less exhausted–mentally and physically–you’d be repulsed by the dust. Right now? You cared little.

Slumber washed over you like the waves you were so used to at home.

You didn’t wake until hours later when a servant rapped over and over upon your door. “My lady? Hello?” 

Coughing and turning to face the doorway, you asked, “what is it?”

A young girl stepped inside and bowed. “Your mother has summoned you for dinner.”

“Bring me a plate, please. I have no wish to eat with a crowd tonight.”

She twisted her hands a few times as if in disapproval but said nothing. Instead, she simply nodded, bowed again, and left with a click of the door.

That night you ate alone and silently hoped Aemond would come find you. Surely he knew ways around the Keep that would lead him to you... But, he never did. After eating your fill you slept like the dead.

Sunrise gently woke you and gradually you began to prepare for the day. Once ready to get dressed, you were confused to see your dress on the floor instead of on the back of the chair you hung it over last night. Strange… you thought to yourself, scanning around the room for what might have caused it. A section of curtain fluttered with morning breeze and when you walked to inspect it you realized the window had been partially cracked. You laughed a short sound and rolled your eyes–how silly to be paranoid about the breeze. You couldn’t remember any strong gusts last night, but you did sleep very hard.

Fully around, now, you made your way to find breakfast. Eventually you did and broke fast with your brothers. For a few moments it felt like you were all children again. Talking, laughing, stealing bits of food off each other’s plates, it felt… good. Homey. Lighthearted in a way only they could make you feel. Once finished, they departed for the training yard and you went to explore the gardens. There might not be any wild roses here and the hedges might be considerably less thorny than those at Dragonstone, but that didn’t stop you from missing it. 

Flowers, shrubs, and trees were in full beautiful display and their fragrances sent you right back to childhood. You lost track of how long you wandered. At least a full hour, surely. Likely more. It wasn’t until you heard your name spoken behind you that you snapped back to reality. Turning to look over your shoulder, you stuttered, excited and surprised, “Aemond!”

He stood taller and sharper than he did three years ago. He was a man grown, now, just like you were a woman grown. Gone were any traces of awkward lankiness. He was slim, yes, but judging by the width of his shoulders he had a strong back and arms. “Niece,” he replied. “Your brothers graced my training session earlier. As did Vaemond Velaryon and his entourage,” he paused to inspect a bit of dirt on his sleeve before folding his arms behind his back. “I thought perhaps your strong brothers might grow into their Velaryon features as they aged. But, alas, they haven’t.”

Prick.

Was he really going right for your throat? Immediately?

“Do you have so little faith in your sister’s lineage” You asked, hands folding behind your back, mirroring him, as you slowly closed the distance between yourselves with deliberate steps. “Myself and all my brothers were grown in the belly of a dragon. Birthed into this world by a dragon. Tell me, uncle, how is that any different than being seeded by a dragon?”

“It is not my sister’s lineage I lack faith in, dear niece, it’s the roots she climbs.”

Fury heated your face and for a moment you considered punching him in his stupid, sharp, beautiful nose. Or perhaps kneeing him in the root he no doubt made reference to. In the span of three heartbeats you settled for neither and instead gave him a disappointing quirk of mouth. “And here I was upset that you didn’t come to say hi to me last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I saw you plenty last night.” he said, tone making it seem like everyone watched you sup together even though you ate alone.

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Did you come find me to be rude, or was there another reason you graced my company?”

“We recently received a collection of books from Myr. Would you like to look at them with me?” Hopefulness briefly lit his features. Idly, you wondered what his deal was. He was an outright asshole only a moment ago, and now he offered to read with you like you did so often as children? The library always had been a place of solace for both of you. Mayhaps he was simply nervous today, on edge, and let the ugliness of anxiety guide his tongue. It would be quiet in the library–the perfect place to, perhaps, connect once again as adults.

You continued to look up at him, attempting to read his features, before replying, “sure. Only if we can have tea and scones too.”

It was his turn to squint at you suspiciously.

That made you laugh; tension began to ease around both of you. “I won’t get crumbs on the pages. Promise!”

And so, walking shoulder to shoulder, you both made way to the library. Tea and scones arrived shortly afterward. As soon as you began reading from different tomes conversation began to flow more freely. Nerves might be flying wild everywhere else in the Red Keep, but here? Safely within these walls? You relaxed. Aemond relaxed. There were no more subtle jabs at bastardry, nor Driftmark, nor anything else. Every now and then you’d laugh and Aemond would smile. Other times it was perfectly silent. When you thought him engrossed by something he read, you eyed him carefully through your peripheral vision–and sometimes with your full vision–trying to keep rising sensations at bay. Despite his sharp tongue and rude quips, he was horribly handsome. You thought he was the last time you were here, too, and now those same feelings intensified to new heights. You caught him doing the same to you. Though, he didn’t coyly turn away when caught. Tension of a different sort heated the air around both of you. 

Hot-blooded. 

Dragonblood.

You ate supper with your mother that night. She and Daemon discussed things from earlier in the day but you paid it little mind–yours was still on Aemond. 

After supper you had a quiet night in your bedchamber. You requested a bath, and it didn’t take the servants long to prepare it for you. Soaking in the hot water was exactly what you needed–complete with your favorite oils generously added to the water until sweet florals and subtly spicy scents lingered around you. By the time you were done your fingers and toes were wrinkly and the water was tepid at best. Sitting in front of the vanity, you dried and braided your silver hair for bed. The day’s events–Aemond–proved to be mentally exhausting. Conflicting emotions warred in your mind as you laid in bed and started up at the neat lace underlay of the four poster bed’s silken drapes.

A noise at your door startled you from whatever daydream danced in your head. How was it opening? You triple checked the lock! Who was coming inside? Frozen and wide eyed, you couldn’t move from your spot upon the bed as someone silently intruded. As the figure stepped out of the shadowy frame you took note of their height, body shape, and silver hair… “Aemond!?” You asked shrilly. “Seven Hells what on earth are you doing?”

“Coming to pay a proper visit to my little niece, of course,” he answered with quiet amusement. Standing at the side of your bed, now, he tilted his head and continued, “I requested a specific guard for this duty tonight so I could slip past him.”

You looked up at him as he looked down at you, regarding you closely. Something shone behind his eye and you couldn’t quite put a finger on it. A rush of emotion rose and settled in the pit of your belly as Aemond gently dragged his thumb across your lower lip. Down the curve of your chin. You swallowed thickly. “You could have just as easily knocked like any regular person would, uncle,” you said.

“What's the fun in that?”

Silence followed as you both took each other in, that unknown expression behind his eye becoming more clear. Lust. 

Did your own gaze mirror it too? The sound of your blood filled your ears.

“Do you remember the last time you were here? When we were in that passageway all alone?” He asked, tracing the backs of his fingers along your pretty face. 

Of course you did. You smiled–coy–and tipped your head into his touch. “Quite well.”

A soft satisfied hum accented the curve of his mouth. “Good.” His fingers pressed against the underside of your chin as he tilted your face up to him, embers sparking through the eye contact. “I've searched for that type of release again and again and have yet to find it,” he said; desperation and intensity so evident you knew he meant it.

Shivers took over your entire body and your spine arched forward, curving as if to seek the sensation of his body against yours. “You have?” You asked between parted lips. 

“I have.”

A hot rush of excitement overcame you and before you knew it both of your hands pulled on the buckles of his tunic, pulling him down to you. You kissed him fiercely and he returned it with ferocity. There wasn't anything tentative about it; lips, tongue, teeth, all meshing until you whimpered into his mouth.

Aemond pushed you back on the bed and fell atop you, one arm holding him up for support, as his silken hair draped along his face. He was so warm, and felt so good over you, that you moaned into his kiss again; he swallowed it whole.

You whined, voice raspy and sweet alike, as you tugged on the front of his belt, “again. I want to do it again,”

“Look at you, so needy for my cock,” he rumbled against your neck, kissing and nipping along the sensitive flesh. He grinned warmly into the crook there and you giggled.

Pushing yourself up on your elbows you turned your body so you could push him onto his back. The startle of his angular lovely face was more than enough reward. With the new position you could feel how hard he was inside his pants, and you wondered if he could feel your heat through the thin material of your smallclothes. You slid down the front of his body until you knelt delicately on the floor. Looking up at him as innocently as you could, your hands ran up the lean length of his thighs while you nestled between them. “You left my window open last night,” you whispered at him as your fingers began to unlace the front of his bottoms.

A low, restrained sound came from Aemond at the combination of your touch and words. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied with cool indifference, supporting himself partially up with his elbows so he could watch you.

A knowing smile spread on your pretty lips as you answered, “you're a bad liar, uncle.” Kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, you tugged the front of his pants down until he was fully freed; hard, solid, and already blazing with heat. You moved those same kisses lower–placing them all around the base of his need until your nose tickled with his scent. His length twitched, the velvety smoothness of him bumping your face.

Above you, he hissed an inward breath, head tilting to the side. “Go on then, this cock isn't going to suck itself now is it?” He crooned, doing his best to appear in control even though his heart thumped wildly with anticipation and the clawing ache to be inside of you–any part of you–had him going mad.

If the slick between your thighs wasn't already unbearable you'd have retorted his taunt. But, you wanted this nearly as much as him. Lifting one of your hands you gripped around his length, pumping slowly, as you rolled your tongue beneath his tip; tasting him, teasing him, coating that part of him with saliva so you could more easily take him into your mouth.

Aemond could have lost it there–would have lost it if he hadn't already fucked his hand to release prior to visiting you. “Did I tell you you could use your hands?” His eye glittered like dragonglass.

Without having to be told again you released your grip and instead held onto the tops of his thighs with both hands, the wholeness of your expression feline. You licked up each side of his cock, circling your tongue around his head, again and again, coating him to your satisfaction. And then, just when you saw Aemond's hips twitch and flex beneath you, you took him into the fullness of your mouth and consumed him.

He groaned, head tipping back. Countless times had he tried to recreate the pleasure you gave him first; no woman ever made him feel the same way and he hated them for it. 

You bobbed, and sucked, and savored the hot solid length of him in your mouth. You dragged and worked your tongue against him, too, lost in the heady sensations of him. The quiet sounds he made coaxed you further and soon you became uncaring of the slobbery mess you were leaving on him. Relaxing your throat, you swallowed as much of his cock as you could. When you gagged at the intrusion you pulled your head up, only to do it again. And again. You moaned around him; wanton.

It was too much for Aemond. Somehow he grew even hotter, even harder, and soon one of his hands pushed your head down while his hips bucked up into your mouth. He panted. Peak was so close. Looking down at you, then, he saw how dazed and desperate you were as he fucked your mouth. The knot of pleasure at the base of his spine exploded and he groaned, guttural, as his balls tightened and cock released down your throat.

You about peaked with him. Breathing through your nose you did your best to take all of him, the hot pulses of his length making you clench around nothing. 

“Swallow. All of it,” Aemond said down at you, slowly easing the pressure of his hand on your head.

Panting, you did. You showed him your empty mouth with pride. “Dragonseed is never to be wasted, uncle.”

If Aemond had anything intelligible to say it didn’t leave his mouth properly. Both his hands gripped around your upper arms and he yanked you up, maneuvering you atop the bed once more. Reaching to the open belt around his waist he unsheathed his dagger with a whisper of leather and steel. It glinted orange in the chamber’s lowlight. “My sweet, lecherous niece…,” he said darkly, sweetly, pinning you down to the bed as he loomed above you. “I know how to make you a true Targaryen, bastard,” he hissed the last word into the shell of your ear and reveled in the way he saw your throat tighten in defiance.

You tensed beneath him and he laughed.

“My favorite bastard,” he crooned, trailing his dagger up the front of your body. “I will make you my wife.”

Goosebumps pebbled your skin as he teased you, taunted you, thrilled you with the edge of his blade. He never drew blood. It only grazed your shift. “I already am a Targaryen,” you proclaimed, voice strong despite its softness.

“I’m going to ruin you tonight and you will let me. Mother will have us wed by the turn of the new moon.” He tilted his dagger just slight, just enough, and the delicate material of your shift stood no chance against it. He sliced it open to reveal the fullness of your lovely body; your shape, your form, your clean floral scent… all of it made his mind feral. “Marry me, niece.”

A hundred–no, a thousand–things ran through your mind all at once. You saw and felt him already fully hard once again, and the hot press of his cock against your flushed skin had you losing sanity. “I will,” you breathed, nodding. “I will marry you.” 

Aemond tossed his dagger away to instead pull your smallclothes down your legs. “My darling betrothed,” he growled, shouldering off his tunic and undershirt as you lay completely bare beneath him. He didn’t even bother kicking his pants off the rest of the way before he moved between your spread thighs. “Let us promise our union now before any Gods that are watching.”

It was wrong. You knew it. And yet… Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and between your thighs. Madness. Surely this was madness. “We can’t,” you protested weakly.

He laughed another dark sound. “Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. We don’t follow the same rules as everyone else.” One of his hands moved over your breasts, sliding and squeezing over them with reverent affection. His other lowered between your legs and the tips of his fingers brushed over your budded pearl. He nearly snarled at the wetness he met there. He circled that bud. Slid over it. He worked your bundle of nerves, watching you all the while.

“A-Aemond!” You gasped, stuttering. Your nipples pebbled firmer as tension built in your belly, tightening in a way that only you were able to make happen. You needn’t any more convincing to give him your maidenhead. So wrong. But, with Aemond? So, so right. Your thighs spilled open wider for him; inviting him.

The rasp of his thighs pressed against the smooth undersides of your own and slowly, carefully, he lined himself up with your dripping entrance and began to press forward. 

Your body yielded and the fullness of him was a sensation unlike anything you’d experienced before. His heat seared into you as he sunk, cautiously, through your opening and past your body’s unmarred barrier. It pinched and you winced, blushed face staring up at him with doe eyes. 

Full. 

You were so full. 

You whimpered a little sound as Aemond’s jaw clenched and a groan rumbled deep in his chest. “You’re doing so well,” he mumbled, the intensity of his eye making you dizzy.

Finally, he was seated all the way inside you. With a heaving chest he held the position for a long moment, knowing you needed the time to adjust just as much as he did. He pulled back and eased back in, testing you. Testing himself. Fuck. He wasn’t going to last long. You were absolutely fucking perfect around him. You breathed his name again, gripping onto any part of his body that you could. 

Aemond’s movements became a little more sure with each moment. It didn’t take much longer until he was taking you fully. The softness of your breasts rocked with the motion of his thrusts, your face loosening as pleasure began to take over any pain there might have been. His greedy eye raked down the front of your body so he could watch where you were joined. Each time he pulled out his cock glistened with your slick, and each plunge sent you gasping at the pressure. Never had he seen anything that made his cock, and gut, and chest ache with such need. “You look so pretty with my cock inside you,” he said lowly, barely able to make words.

“Feels good, Aem,” you simpered in reply.

His mouth crashed to yours in a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth so your tongues slid against one another. The soft sound of skin slapping on skin began to grow louder as both of you worked into and against each other’s thrusts. “I’m going to mark that pretty little neck so that everyone knows your mine,” he rasped against your skin as he kissed over your chin, your jaw, until he reached your neck. He nipped there, biting harshly, kissing over each bite mark to soothe any lingering sting. He did it over and over, sucking the sensitive flesh into his mouth until he knew he’d leave a mark behind.

You trembled beneath him, squirming with pleasure, as he fucked into you at an angle and pace that had you soaring. The balance of pain and pleasure was more than anything you’d felt before and you were wholly at its mercy. You scratched his skin as you squeezed your fingers against his lean muscle, marking him as he marked you. “‘S too much,” you whined, breathless.

He only continued. Panting, he said, “I want to hear you scream my name when you come. Understood?”

You nodded, desperate. “Yes, yes yes yes..!” 

His pace grew sloppy, frenzied, as his own high threatened to push him over the edge any second. “Give it to me,” he moaned, pleaded. “Come with me.” One of his hands squeezed over your breast again, pinching and tugging the nipple, while the fingers of the other worked your clit. 

“Aemond!” You gasped thinly, covering your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that no doubt released with the intensity of your peak. Aemond’s mouth replaced your hand as climax took him, too, cock twitching as spurt after spurt of his seed filled the deepest parts of your body. You both rode it out together, senses buzzing and fuzzy, while the wonderful post-climax bliss sensations intoxicated you more than any wine. 

He carefully slid out from your body and nearly grew fucking hard again as he saw the evidence of your maidenhood upon your clean bedsheets. 

“You will be the loveliest bride,” he said, relishing the sight of you glowing from pleasure.

Pulling the top quilts back, you beckoned him in, asking, “stay awhile longer?”

He did.

You laid together, limp and blissful, and for the first time in over three years Aemond found himself fully sated.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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Masterlist

Main Taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond Taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

[reggies-eyeliner]

OKAY AN EXTREMELY SELF-INDULGENT SENSELESS RAMBLE ABOUT JWCT REGARDING GRIEF AND EMOTIONS AND FOUND FAMILY AND COMPLEX CHARACTERS COMING UP AHEAD WOOP WOOP !!!

i cannot stress to you enough. how much i love the way they write processing trauma. like yeah trauma is all silly and angst and whatever but it's a real thing like genuinely and it's exhausting to see shows just dismiss it over and over again but THIS SHOW I SWEAR IT'S JUST. EVERYTHING IS DONE SO SO WELL AND I AM ETERNALLY GRATEFUL LIKE

and not to mention that the animation SERIOUSLY DOES IT JUSTICE like the expressions are SO GOOD OH MY GOSH LIKE IT'S I'M THEY'RE YEAH THE EXPRESSIONS. ARE INCREDIBLE. that looks darius got in his eyes when he KNEW the password to brooklyn's phone and kenji didn't??? so good SO GOOD and just the way their eyes all shine before they start crying is actually done so well that if you listen carefully you can feel my heart breaking

also i love how like emotional processing is also written so much. all of them aren't afraid to cry and i feel like that's just. yeah it's beautiful. they cry soft they cry loud whatever it is they're comfortable enough to do so and if they're not they at least know they won't be judged for it ARE YOU KIDDING ME I'M GOING TO BITE A TABLE?????

the characters have flaws. i love that so much. the characters are not perfect but they're still likable and it's executed so well. darius' grief is PALPABLE and kenji's anger, albeit sometimes annoying, is so understandable that you can't actually be angry or annoyed with him because the story writing makes you understand. that's incredible. yasmina struggles with anxiety and ptsd and she gets frustrated and that is !! okay !! sammy ignores her emotions and struggles with toxic positivity but we understand *why* she talks to yasmina that way (because she's worried and scared and concerned for her girlfriend, but she's also just as worried of truly addressing what she's been through) so it's so hard to get mad at her. ben is THANJ GOODNESS not mischaracterized as a cinnamon roll and is actually a complex character with complex emotions and i can't get enough of it. he's like a pain he's so annoying sometimes but it's endearing because he reminds you of that one classmate from elementary that makes you go ohhh yeah no it's him that's fine

okay paragraph was getting long but I do have more to say about kenji. the relationships in this show are executed SO WELL and I'm beyond relieved that Kenji and Daniel's relationship was written INCREDIBLY WELL

like. okay first off the asian rep YEAHGHH IT EAS GOOD !!! WOOP WOOP YRAHAHDH HONK HONK the part about kenji saying he should get his violin after daniel was like telling his sob story was SO FUNNY OH MH GOSH

and just. kenji and daniel kon. im. like his dad was never perfect. far from it and yet kenji just he loves him so much and wants to make him proud and it makes me sick because the writing helps you UNDERSTAND why

daniel keeps giving kenji ultimatums and kenji standing up to him for once just. yeah. that was done incredibly well. and then not even ten minutes after daniel started to change and gave his son something without expecting anything in return other than his presence daniel gets eaten alive in front of him.

okay now this show holy moly i was NOT expecting daniel to just. get ripped apart but um YEAH THAT HAPPENED and the grief was written so well I cannot stress this enough. I loathe in movies and shows when they skim past traumatic deaths and just act like the grief is just non existent and this show does an incredible job at showing that it is VERY MUCH STILL THERE and it makes people out there who are struggling feel a little less crazy and that's so beautiful

i've been a benrius enthusiast since day one and honestly at this point i just hope everything goes well for them moving on. brooklyn's death and Darius coping with her grief was done SO SO WELL and honestly okay as much as i love sibling-type dinostar i think rewatching scenes with the lens that he was in love with her just makes it hurt so much and it's just. yeah. it's written well.

I will say that I think the story could have gone on without Darius confessing his love to Brooklyn, and the scene where Kenji asked Darius about the voicemails could have been used solely as a chance to highlight grief. another way the scene could have gone was if kenji sifted through the voicemails and just heard Darius's voice shatter in a way he's never quite heard it or listened to darius blame himself and that could have been a moment for kenji to realize that grief isn't something people should deal with alone, that *he* shouldn't deal with grief alone

regardless i really do think the idea that Darius was in love with Brooklyn was done really well. I don't know a better way for kenji to have figured out the truth, and for that I am grateful :D!! I hope the hardcore shippers don't get too mad though 😭

also I absolutely loved the lady with the whistle. she's cool. her character design is terrifying and the way she treats the dinosaurs reminds me a of a queen that is very fond of her workers like 😭 she's cool but also i would never want her within a 100 mile radius of me

the found family in this show is actually. yeah. it makes me cry because it's just done so well because it doesn't idealize perfect relationships. there are awkward moments, there are sad moments, characters still feel broken and alone despite having people who've actively said that they'd go to the moon and back for them. it's realistic and it's written beautifully

I think Darius might actually be the character with The Writing ever. his grief and his nostalgia, his awkwardness and fascination with learning and his kindness are all things that exist together and I am so so grateful for that. he's allowed to laugh and make jokes while feeling constant, looming guilt. he is fascinated with learning while also struggling to feel like he deserves to be happy, he enjoys learning about dinosaurs while also being terrified of them on the worst days. he feels guilty and feels like a bad person. but he's loved and he's cared for. can you tell he's my favorite now because

enamored with yasmina and sammy as always. they are just the girlfriends ever and i love so much how openly they communicate with each other. sammy apologizes when she makes mistakes, yasmina doesn't hold it against her. they're always at each other's sides and their love isn't conditional. i love them SO MUCH

okay sorry im making this about darius again but this guy actually is The character ever. I don't think I've ever felt so seen in a character and i just yeah the writers are incredible because all of the characters are written to feel relatable, and if not that, to feel real. it was just a huge comfort to me to know that okay im not crazy for feeling this way because of a character, who was written and animated by dozens and dozens of creators was allowed to be written this way, i'm not messed up in the head, im just processing emotions and it's okay that I need help for that

THIS SOUNDS SO CRINGE I AM SO SORRY

but yeah i. i love this show.

#jwct #jwct spoilers #Jurassic world chaos theory #jwcc #jwcc Darius #jwcc Ben #jwcc yasmina #jwcc Kenji #jwcc Sammy #benrius #dinostar #Brooklyn #Jurassic world chaos theory spoilers #ben Pincus #Kenji kon #darius Bowman #Brooklyn nolastname #yasmina fadoula #sammy Gutierrez #yasammy #daniel kon

[mochinomnoms]

Lmao poor yuu being the mate of the twins you just woke up crazy stuff happened last night, and you are greeted by the twins in "Lets be productive with this" mode so even if you have the most confused look on your face the twins keep talking about wedding plans and please you just woke up too much information to analyze and come up with an answer to, they are so focused on "What are we going to do with the family introduction" that they forgot that you aren't someone that was raised with mer customs or traditions and maybe they should explain what is happening to you.. Maybe after breakfast you are still a bit cranky

-Vaquita (hkKkaksksmsuiaksbs domestic tweels hehe *blushes like a whore*)

dis u:

The twins are so strange to you sometimes. You like them a lot (like a lot, what's wrong with you), don't get it twisted, but they are weird. How you managed to make it out of their room and into Azul's office is a question within itself. Azul is looking up at you from his desk, fixing up a contact of some sort, with an unsurprised look on his face.

“Oh good, I take it the twins are also finally awake? Can you bring them over so we can discuss—”

“Azul, they're acting strange.”

The octomer blinked at you, raising a brow as if your statement as obvious.

“Okay?”

“Stranger than usual!” You opened the door behind you, peeking out before slamming it shut and covering it with your body.

“They woke me up with things about meeting their parents, about if they want to live on the surface or give me a transformation potion, and Floyd kept talking about wanting to be in charge of the wedding reception. What wedding is he talking about!?”

“Oh, they must have forgotten you wouldn't have known. Eelmers mate for life, and based on the sounds the entire dorm heard last night, the twins, err…mated with you.”

Azul cringed at the thought, shaking his head. “I've taken the liberty of writing an engagement contract for you three.”

“Huh?”

“Of course, Jade and Floyd will take a look through it, as well as Mr. Leech, or your new father-in-law, if I may say.”

“Wait a sec—”

“Don't worry, morays have a low divorce rate, but even then I've written you a solid prenuptial agreement in the case that one of them does something you don't like. This way, you'll be set for life if you have to go off on your own.”

“Hey! I didn't—oh actually that's really nice of you Azul, wait no! I didn't agree to any—”

The door slammed open as you removed your body weight to walk up to Azul's desk. You're positive that if they'd really wanted to, they could've mowed you down to open the door. But you're their mate now, so they have to take care of you!

“There's our little shrimp! I turned away to getcha another snack, and you managed to sneak away, come 'ere!”

You yelped as Floyd scooped you up in his arms and gave you a loud, wet smooch on the cheek, loose shirt hanging so that you could see the bite marks you left during the night. Jade was wearing more form fitting pajamas, but you could see in the way he cautiously shifted his back that the scratches you'd left on his back were still stinging.

“See Floyd? I told you they'd be with Azul, who looks like is working on a new contract. Am I safe to assume that's the marriage contract I asked you to work on last week?”

Jade kissed your other cheek and chuckled at Azul's deadpan face, the latter darting between you, Floyd and Jade as the twins cooed at your distress. Azul cleared his throat right as you opened your mouth to start cussing them out for acting weird(er).

“It's an engagement contact, actually, which now I'm glad I switched to, because I do believe your little mate there isn't aware of the commitment you've both bound them into. Maybe you three should go back to one of your rooms to discuss before they turn you down and leave you lonely and single forever.”

The twins blinked owlishly at you, then at Azul, and then back at you. You gave them an unamused glare. The two shared a look of worry before rushing back to their bedroom to explain and convince you why being their mate was a good idea (and to please accept them, they only want you).

(It took them nearly three hours of explaining and convincing you to accept the proposal for their anxiety to go down. To be honest, it only took them the first 5 minutes of explaining to make you want to stay as their mate, but you needed some petty revenge for the confusion they caused.)

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #jade leech #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #vaquita anon

[flowerandblood]

ONE YEAR OF FLOWER&BLOOD

✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙✨🎉🌙

Exactly one year ago I posted my first chapter of the My Best Friend series. Nowadays I think it's something awful and I don't even try to edit it because I'd have to write everything from scratch, but I've left it for people who feel attached to the story. I remember getting about six likes and one comment on the first day and that huuuuge interest made me eager to create chapter 2 and then all the others.

I remember the excitement with which I waited and then replied to comments, not believing that people were actually waiting for the next chapter. At the time I was literally not following anyone, which was good because I wasn't comparing myself to anyone.

Eventually I felt I was ready to try writing other series and a few were successful enough that I decided to stay here permanently and create because it made me happy. Up to that point, everyone had been very kind to me and I started following more and more blogs, wanting to feel part of the fandom, to make friends with everyone. Now I know that was the biggest mistake I made.

Seeing things that didn't interest me, fanfic's whose way of writing couldn't draw me in, I felt frustrated, while at the same time fearing that if I stopped following someone, that person would see it as an affront. At the same time, The Impossible Choice, my biggest project until The Fall from the Heavens (which I'm currently editing and re-editing, while inserting on AO3), began to be written.

Just when I thought I had reached the pinnacle of my abilities (which wasn't true), I also started to clash with anonymous hate messages, probably the worst of which were those vilifying me and my husband, and those regarding my one-shot with Micheal Gavey. I know now that taking it personally and getting involved was my big mistake, and the fandom was shaken by drama that got out of hand.

I was a few steps away from deleting my blog at the time, but my husband talked me out of the idea (thankfully, as my stories aren't saved anywhere else − I'm only now moving them to AO3).

That's when I first realised that some people here I don't even like, and they probably don't like me. I wondered, why are we following each other then? Why are we pretending to have any courtesy? It was only later that I realised that to be considered someone's friend, you have to reblog their work and preferably agree with them even when they write hurtful things.

Since I've depleted my circle of those I follow to about 20 people, since I've blocked dozens of people and tags, there's been blissful silence (with the exceptions of when I write about behaviour in the fandom that I find toxic and someone accuses me of causing drama, but I'm used to it now). I've also never written happier than I do now.

Ideas come to me on their own, I don't feel uptight about what other big people will think of me, whether they reblog it, approve of it or not. I don't give a shit and life is beautiful! Although I can be emotionally unstable, I'm only 70 people short of crossing the next milestone of 3,000 followers, and that's BIG for me. It amuses me that I keep getting messages that someone is going to block me or stop following me, and you guys keep coming. It's gratifying.

I'm going to keep writing for you guys, and I'm sure during season two you'll also see my posts describing my impressions after the episodes in which I hope to involve my husband. I'll also keep you updated here on how I'm doing with my book I'm creating in my private life.

Apreciation

@ewanmitchellcrumbs

Ange. I know that sometimes I'm fucked up, but I want you to know that you've made this place so much more bearable for me that I can't imagine it without you. What I appreciate most about you is that you can talk and discuss, that you always try to understand the other side, that you are empathetic, warm and kind. I feel that, like friends in everyday life, we can also tell each other about things we disagree about, and there are not many people like that here.

On top of that, you are very talented and your stories are always a pleasure to read, even when they are short, you are able to build the plot and atmosphere perfectly, something I have always admired. Thank you for every kind word and understanding.

I still remember your first message to me via ask, referring to the fact that I didn't want to write a pairing with a mermaid because someone else was writing about it at the same time. My heart melted then, it was so nice!

@targaryenrealnessdarling

Liz, Queen of Angst! Your calmness and composure puts me in awe. You're disgustingly talented when it comes to writing and you have a super-sweet personality. When you started following me I began to squirm with delight, and when you started reblogging my stuff? My goodness!!!

@persephonerinyes

You've been engaging and reblogging my stories for as long as I can remember. Always involved, your thoughts make me smile. Thank you for being with me for so long!

@zenka96

You've been here with me since the dawn of time. You know that I love you. Your support from the very beginning really makes me feel like I have a friend here.

@huramuna

I am so proud of you! I remember your asks when I wrote Glass Cuts Deepest, your illustrations for me and your uncertainty about whether you should start writing yourself. I'm so happy for you and that you are so successful! You deserved it.

@black-dread & @aegonx

You are my favourite gif makers. Your work always leaves me in awe, you are amazing! I know how much work you put into it and somehow you make even the worst lit scenes look wonderful!

@summerposie; @0eessirk8; @melsunshine; @immyowndefender; @bellaisasleep; @kckt88; @thedamewithabook; @happinessinthebeing; @queenofshinigamis; @travelingmypassion; @mefools; @fan-goddess; @toodlesxcuddles; @ammo23; @troublesomesnitch; @mariahossain; @out-of-life; @apothe-roses; @heavenhatesme; @whitearemydarkestnight; @liv-cole; @blackswxnn; @echos-muses; @watercolorskyy; @at-a-rax-ia; @tssf-imagines; @snh96; @hiatuswhore; @exitpursuedbyavulcan; @darylandbethfanforever9; @the-dendrophile-bookdragon; @opheliaas-stuff @zaldritzosrose

Your comments and reblogs make me want to keep writing. You make me laugh, you comfort me and you support me. I know I'm definitely forgetting someone, but I want you to know that I love everyone who comments on my stories and there is nothing better for me than responding to your reactions and questions! I have known some of you for so many months that I truly consider you my good friends!

lottie-blue-star; aveatquevale-; aemondtargaryenwifey marvelescvpe; alphard-hydraes-blog; herejusttostan; li0nn3stuff; alexandrawho; vilmakamunen; angelinap09; theloveablestargirl; rose-blue-19; xxxkat3xxx; flosaureum; mandiiblanche; librawh0re; jasminecosmic99; ivvypg; rojocarnation; killmanduh; tokkiiidoll; wolfdressedinlace; angelofvivianne; nina2697; starwarsgirlsimmer1; katsucker; ipostwhtifeel; aemondsdelight; ilswemoon; tigrigri; pasta-rask; roselibrary; lystargs; gemini-mama; nikstrange; tempo-rary-fix; coffeeobsessedtrencher; gwuinivyre; dreamerbythewayx; diiickbrainn; mothmankit

And everyone else I missed and whose icons I would recognize from afar. I know that you have been with me for many months, often in silence or communicating anonymously. Your silent support and presence is something wonderful for me, knowing that you have been with me for so long and read all my posts!

Thankyouthankyouthankyou!!!!

#one year anniversary #celebration

[olderthannetfic]

As a 50K person, I get how it sounds, but honestly, it is exhausting because a lot of it is rereading and hating the flow and having to add more to make it feel better as a piece and never feeling finished.

It's a difference in style and the way people write sometimes, I think.

I always appreciate short pieces and the authors ability to put together a story with a small amount, and it hit like a punch or just linger on my mind for years. A lot of them are genuinely beautiful or very funny or very hot and have very good pieces that get to the heart of things engagingly. But that is a skill to be able to do.

I can't do brevity, and it's genuinely not fun all the time. I've tried to write something smaller, and it just felt unfinished to me no matter how much I tried to force myself to not add more and made me so unhappy with it that I just left it. I can't do a story without it being more involved and full of details, which always expands. Otherwise, it feels barebones and not done.

Mor tangential the length of fiction doesn't reflect anything on quality or investment into the project either. Shorter pieces aren't any lesser for a smaller amount of words (and certainly aren't easier to write) and longer works aren't necessarily well-written just because there's a lot of words. And sometimes people lean into one or the other as easier to write for them.

--

[adventuringblind]

The Edge of the Knife

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Sometimes, pain is the only sense of control she has. So, she gives that to Daniel too.

Warnings: SH is mentioned but not described, fingering, bandage, knife play, branding, dom/sub dynamics, gentle Daniel, PinV, everything is consensual and very safe

Notes: Listen, y'all, this is probably the best thing I've ever written. I fell in love with this so fast. Also, I promise I'm working on requests! I just also have to find time to write things for me as well 😁

Masterlist

She wouldn't say Daniel is possessive. He doesn't care if she talks to other guys. Hardly gets jealous. Only intervenes if he can see she's uncomfortable.

He does, however, like to show her off. Show people she's his in the more unconventional ways. Hickeys and bite marks are the way he normally claims her. It wards off the unwanted attention and he gets to be smug about showing people she's his.

She loves it. Bathes in his adoration and want of people knowing she's his. He's always telling people how amazing she is to the point where Max even gets fed up with him because he's so smitten.

She is really his everything. Would give her the moon and stars ig she asked. He wants to show everyone she's his in every way.

The problem is, hickeys and bite marks aren't permanent and a tattoo is nice (he has many) but it's not as personal. It doesn't feel the same.

Now, on her end, she feels the same way. But she'd never say this to him. The fear of rejection outweighs the desire for him to make her his in a permanent way.

Her past isn't an easy one. It's not something she talks about often. It's heavy and she doesn't like thinking to much on it if she can help it.

The edge of the knife has been her attempt at regaining control. A pain she chooses in a life that hasn't ever given her a choice. It's not a good habit and she's aware of it. Daniel has done a good job of keeping her mind occupied enough. Even helping her find other healthy habits.

Yet her mind still wanders back to that place. That desire to choose where and when she feels pain. That desire to retain control over at least that one thing.

It's on a particularly hard day when she finally goes to Daniel. She'd been stressed beyond what she could handle. The weight of the world sitting uninvited on her chest.

He'd noticed this; Daniel is an observant person.

Her mind had wandered to distant and dark places. The depths she shouldn't wander to. She walks gently over to Daniel where he sits absentmindedly flipping the switchblade in his hands. Most likely double checking he still had it and it hasn't fallen into her bored hands.

When Daniel takes notice of her just standing in wait, he puts the knife away safely in his pocket and opens his arms to her.

The tears flow freely then, soaking into his shirt like it's a towel. His fingers run along her spine, shoulder, arm, and her legs. "What's wrong, baby?"

"Life's just hard right now." She admits through choked sobs.

Daniel hums into her neck. "Do you want something specific to help?"

She hesitates. This could be to her detriment. But she wants the knife on her skin so badly she's willing to beg for it. So, she takes a deep breath and prepares herself for whatever happens.

"I want you to mark me. Permanently." She cringes away from him. Though it's pointless, Daniel simply drags her gaze back to him with a hand layed gently on her cheek.

"I want you to be very specific. Do you want me to brand you with the knife?" He sounds serious, but there is a look of excitement in his eyes that betray his calm demeanor.

She shakes her head yes, assuming that will suffice.

"Words baby." She assumed wrong.

"I want you to carve me with your knife. I want you to mark me permanently. Want you to make me yours, Danny."

They eye contact he holds with her is gentle and considerate. She can see him mulling through his thoughts. His hand moves to her left hip, his fingers tracing things against it.

"How you you feel about the number three? Make you the only lucky charm I'd ever need."

She almost falls out of his lap. "Yes please." It's something like a whine mixed with a beg. It's desperate but she could care less.

"Now, I know this might be scary, so do you want me to have complete control over you? Or shall we skip that for tonight?"

"No please, I need you to take the control away. If you do it then I can't anymore. It'll be like ruining something intimate after."

"Then give me a few minutes. I want you waiting on the bed when I come back."

It doesn't take long to strip of her clothes as asked. Her mind wanders to what he could need that not in there bedroom already. She runs through a mental list in her head, but her thoughts are cut short by Daniel sneaking back into the room softly.

"Fuck love, you're sitting so pretty for me. My beautiful girl."

He's beaming at her. She can feel the blush on her face rise to her ears. Mostly because of the compliments, but also because of what he returned to her with. Daniel places some darker colored towels, water, and first aid supplies on the nightstand. It makes her swoon. Seeing him care so much and so willing to do this for her.

"I'm gonna tie you up now, okay baby?"

"Okay."

"Color?"

"Green."

Always attentive. Always checking in with her.

He takes his time securing her wrists to the headboard. There is no escape now. Daniel reassures her many times that she can back out. There is no shame in that. Then he kisses every inch of her body. Praises her for being so brave. "My beautiful girl, being so brave for me, letting me show the world your mine."

She's no longer in the darkest portions of her mind. She's given up to the voice of Daniel. Submitted her mind and body to him, letting him take car of her how he deems fit.

Her legs are not secured. She assumes that it's something to do either future plans. For now, he spreads her legs and places wet kisses and small bites around the space she needs him most.

She cries in relief when his tongue flicks her clit woth kitten licks. Her moans grow as he laps at her like a man who's starving. She repeats his name like she's praying to give her the release she desperately craves.

Its messy, but it's amazing. Daniel's hands place pressure on both her knees to keep them down. The tremors shaking through her body make her legs want to cage him there.

The rapidly building release stops suddenly. She bucks her hips I'm utter disappointment. She wants more of him. She needs more of him.

"You're doing so good for me baby. You'll get to cum, Just not yet." He winks. It makes her fall into that fuzzy, floaty headspace even more.

Daniel maneuvers their bodies into an odd position. Her left side is facing the ceiling but he has her looking at him. Her left leg is bent so he can still have access to her aching a needy heat.

His fingers are slow to fill her. Two, but with his rings on it feels like more to her.

"Are you sure you want this love? You're sure you want to show off that you're my girl?"

"Please Danny. I want this. I need this. Let the world know I'm only yours." She moans out. It's mildly slurred but she knows he understands. There is a glint in his eyes that it excited. His pupils are wide with arousal. His lips twitch up in that award winning smile she loves so much. It doesn't help she can feel how hard he is through his shorts.

Daniel loses his shirt, but his shorts stay on for the moment. Then he curls his fingers back into her, capturing her lips as he does. It's a sloppy and wet kiss that he spends dominating her lips. It's filled with love and passion, which is normal for them, but this one feels different. There is something primal about it.

His fingers do a number on her. He knows her body so well that his fingers work on autopilot. Daniel pulls away from the kiss and pulls out the switchblade in his pocket. He holds eye contact while gently tracing the outline of the three he plans on carving into her skin.

The cold of the metal against her skin pulls another breathy moan out of her. "You like how the feels baby? You like knowing I'm gonna make you mine?" If she could moan any louder it would alert the whole of Monaco.

"Danny I'm-"

"Shhhh, it's okay baby, let me take care of you."

It's startling, being three seconds away from the plunging her body and soul into endless pleasure and having the knife press deep into her flesh.

Three seconds becomes zero and the cliff falls out from beneath her. She scream his name as his fingers work her endlessly into overstimulation and the knife continues its path.

She can't hear. She can't see. Her mind is overrun with emotion. Her muscles contract as her nerves catch fire.

She can vaguely hear the man she loves talking her through it. The contrast between the filthy but loving words he uses only sends her further into submission.

Finally, his fingers slow and the knife is no longer touching her. She can hear in click closed an set on the nightstand.

She's just crying at this point in a writhing mess of pain and pleasure.

Then Daniel does something she's not expecting. His tongue hits the area of her hip that's now leaking crimson. It's animalistic the way he licks the wound clean. It's aggressive the way his fingers leave her just for his hand to find the wound and make her cry out ad he applies pressure. It's primal how his red coated lips find hers. His free hand wipes away her tears as he sings her praises. Her mind can only find him in the fog as he claims her as his over, and over again.

She watches with intrigue as the rest of his clothes fall to the ground. As his hands are wiped off on one of the towels that he then places under her. The goal to catch the excess blood running down her side.

Is a mix of gentle and possessive as he fucks her into the sheets. Her body and the mattress becoming one.

It's loving and beautiful. It sparks every positive emotion in her. The sting in her hip numbed from the feeling of Daniel flush against her skin. His hips rocking rhythmically and hitting every place she needs him.

She's lost by the time he finishes. His voice the only thing making sense in her head. She almost cries when she can no longer feel his skin of hers. The feeling of him gone more painful then the ache on her side.

"I'm here baby. We have to clean you up now, okay? Gotta keep my mark from getting infected."

He's gentle with her body as he cleans it. Though, she still hisses in pain as he works through disinfecting everything and plastering medical tape over it.

"You're so beautiful baby. Can't believe you're all mine. My everything. The love of my life. And now the only lucky charm I'll ever need."

The next morning is filled with sweet kisses and gentle looks. Daniel has to stop her from just ripping the bandage off and staring at the mark for hours. He simply keeps her hands busy in other ways.

When Daniel deems it safe to pull the bandage off, he's the one to do it. Nothing but lobe and adoration fills both of them as they see the, currently stabbed, mark on her hip. He places small kisses down the length of it.

In reality, the mark is only visible to them. But Max had invited them to swim and Daniel wasn't going to let the opportunity go to waste.

Did he get her a bikini that revealed more then neccecary? Yes. Is she wearing it and basking in his attention? Also yes. Something about the way he hypes her up just drives her confidence levels up.

Is everyone a little concerned when they see a very obvious scar of the number three on her hip? Again, yes. That concern quickly dies down when they see how happy she is when Daniel traces his fingers over it.

Max comes and asks teases them about it eventually. "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing!" He laughs.

Daniel looks between him and a certain Monegasque. "Mhmm, like you would do the same with your whole name to a certain someone." Her and Daniel laugh as Max turns a bright shade of red.

#x reader #fanficion #formula one #f1 fic #formula 1 #racing #f1 fanfic #angst #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #Daniel Ricciardo x y/n #dr3 #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #daniel ricciardo imagine #Daniel Ricciardo 3 #redbull racing #red bull f1 #red bull racing #redbull #redbull daniel #redbull f1 #red bull formula 1 #f1 smut #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo smut

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being in a music duo behind my friend's back?

<3 <3 <3 (So I can recognise it) I (18M) have this friend I'll call A I really appreciate (19Gender Complicated) and we've both wanted to be in a band forever. I can sing, but I've never been in a band before. This friend wants to write lyrics and maybe play keyboard. I like writing lyrics, but I figured he could do keyboard, I could sing, and writing could be collaborative. I gave him my keyboard to learn on but I don't think he's touched it due to pathological demand avoidance, which I get.

I have this other friend I'll call B (18M) who can play guitar and drums and is pretty good. He wants to be in a duo with me partly because fun, partly because art, and partly because he needs any extra money we might get from busking or gigs. I'm super down, and the band me and A tried to start just never really worked out so I was super excited. We've written a couple songs and it's been amazing! Our flaws as musicians really balance out, as I've never been good at the chords and instrument of things, and B doesn't sing or write lyrics.

But I feel like I have to keep it a secret from A. A has been feeling left out of the friendgroup at large for a few months now. Because I'm the closest to him out of our friendgroup, he sometimes blames me for not inviting him to hangouts with the others, even when I'm a guest at someone else's house and don't control the guest list. It's like, a whole thing. I know that if I try to tell A about my duo with B it will NOT go well. A will take it as a rejection, and me leaving him out again. But truely, I want to make music with both B and A, it's just things with A never got off the ground and things with B are. B and A aren't super close and probably wouldn't want to all be in a band together for several reasons that don't matter much to the ask past explaining why I don't just make a band with both of them.

AITA for being in a duo with B behind A's back? I really don't want to hurt A, but I don't know how to tell him and realistically I can't hide my duo with B forever.

#aita #am i the asshole

[veliseraptor]

Top five spiciest untamed opinions!

man, I've been in my own little corner of fandom for long enough that I feel like I struggle a little to parse what is spicy of my opinions and what isn't, but here's a go at it

The Untamed is a show with complex, morally grey characters that's telling a slightly different but not inherently inferior story. Maybe I'm just a bit defensive about this, and I have with time come to appreciate a lot of things about the novel over the way they play out in the show, but The Untamed was the first version of the story that I fell in love with and I think at least some of the criticisms of it overstate the degree to which it morally simplifies the story. I think, whether because of requirements of censorship or other reasons, that the moral messiness of the story is subtler, I don't think it's absent, and while Jin Guangyao in particular falls victim to a pretty intense villain edit the narrative still has plenty of sympathy for him (even if the audience, all too often, does not). I think it's telling a slightly different story (as others have discussed), but I think it's a strong adaptation that still works with the underlying themes of the text.

However, that being said, The lessening of Wei Wuxian's culpability, as in the introduction of the second flautist, weakens his character. I feel like the character of Wei Wuxian as we see him in The Untamed still has the recognizable flaws of the character from the novel - I think the degree to which they're sometimes claimed to be toned down is overstated, which I think I've written some about before. He's still at least a little arrogant, causes problems, has a definite temper, and doesn't always respect other peoples' choices, among other things. But what The Untamed does do is remove some of his culpability, or at least temper it - both for Jin Zixuan's death and the massacre at Nightless City, which are two moments that contribute to a strong tragic arc in the first life, which makes for a more powerful (imo) arc in the second life. Removing, or at least lessening, Wei Wuxian's culpability for Jin Zixuan's death and Jiang Yanli's death makes him more a victim of circumstance than of his own human flaws, and at least for me, a character who is doomed by their own flaws is a far more compelling one than one who just happens to fall victim to outside forces. It makes him, I would argue, more passive and less of an active force, and I think the culpability for those two deaths - and the loss of control that causes it - makes for a more powerful narrative than that of a man who is victimized by someone else's actions.

Jin Guangyao was a good Chief Cultivator. I see people talk about him as though he was corrupt and evil and just plotting all the time, but the Bad Things™ he does mostly happen before his tenure as Chief Cultivator and, even taking those into account, have a limited impact on the world at large (with the exception of Nie Mingjue's death, but even that I would argue has more personal repercussions than broader political ones). As far as his responsibility for the cultivation world at large, we have no evidence prior to his downfall that he is negatively perceived by people, except for the fact of his birth/origins.

this is more MDZS-related than Untamed specific, but: MXTX deserves praise for writing "problematic" and messy queer sex, but it's just not hot. I don't have a whole lot to add on this one, but one of my least favorite parts of some corners of The Untamed fandom are people who are thoroughgoing MXTX antis who are quick to cry about the ~problematic~ aspects of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian's sex life (which, honestly, I think are overstated a lot of the time, as is the weirdness of the sex scenes); however, in my opinion, the sex scenes as they stand just aren't very sexy, and I don't think that's intentional (as it arguably is in SVSSS). The sex scenes may be a shortcoming in the text, perhaps, but not the one certain people think it is.

this is again a stronger argument in the novel but I think it's present in the show as well: Jin Guangyao and Wei Wuxian are "there but for the grace of god" foils, but not in the sense of Jin Guangyao being "Wei Wuxian if he made bad moral choices" but in the sense of "who Wei Wuxian could've been if his circumstances were different." I've definitely written about this before and how much it drives me nuts the way people treat narrative foils in this story in general as Goofus and Gallant style duos, but this is a specific one. I think Jin Guangyao is an example of a story that runs alongside Wei Wuxian's, but ends in a different place, and I think the story isn't saying that he ends in that place because of something inherently worse about Jin Guangyao, but because of the way his circumstances happen to diverge from Wei Wuxian's in specific key ways. In some ways his ending is even a near beat-for-beat rewrite of Wei Wuxian's death, and Wei Wuxian receives the grace of a second life not because of any inherent merit, but actually because of his bad reputation. I think this goes for Xue Yang, too, actually.

I absolutely know I'm forgetting things and there are probably things back in my bitchy opinions tag that I could dig out, but here's at least a few that came to mind.

#conversating #maester of spreadsheets #lise has opinions #none of these feel so bitchy they need to go in the bitchy opinions tag but just in case i think i'll #lise's aggressively bitchy opinions about irrelevant and unimportant matters #lise memes #top five meme #the sad queer cultivators show

[writingwithfolklore]

Hey there, wanted to ask some advice for writing. Apologies if you've written this before. I searched your posted links, but didn't find quite was I was looking for. (I may have missed it!)

Let's say you're revising a scene, and something about isn't working, but you're not 100% sure what's off.

What steps do you take to try and understand why the scene doesn't work? What should we be looking for?

Thanks!

Hi! This is a great question, and something I don't think I've really covered yet.

How to Fix an "off" Scene

There are so many things that can make a scene feel 'off' so it might be helpful to begin to narrow it down or try to pinpoint the part that isn't working.

So first, I would read it out loud.

Stop to take notes if you need to--notice where you're running out of breath, where you stumble or stutter, sentences you read wrong the first time or that aren't making the sense/impact/feel you want them to. Sometimes a stutter is just a stutter and doesn't necessarily mean anything is wrong, but sometimes a stutter is from odd word choice. Little things like that can have a big impact on how the scene feels.

The problem may jump out at you already. If not, there are 3 big things to watch out for:

The pacing

I just did a post on controlling pacing here, and here so I won't go too in-depth now, but a good 70% of the time when I rewrite an off scene with pacing in mind, it fixes it. Try rewriting the scene a few times--make different choices, change the weather, change the room, change the people who are there. These little details might just jog something loose here.

2. Intention

A scene may also feel off because the characters are acting strangely or the events are propelling without a propeller. Ask yourself why the characters in the scene are there--both in their purpose to add to it, as well as the 'narrative sense' it makes. Would Character A drive half an hour to join in on this conversation in person? Does their presence add something unique/essential to the conversation?

If it's a dialogue heavy scene, the problem is likely in the dialogue. Think about what each character wants out of the exchange, and how they're going to try to convince the others to give it to them. (Check out more dialogue tips here, here, and here)

3. Placement

It may just be a bad time in the story to have that specific scene. Maybe the flow is a bit off--the last chapter was super intense and now they're suddenly sitting down for tea and the momentum had to screech in its tracks. Try going back and reading what just happened and feel out the transition between scenes--they should have a similar but evolving feel to them. If they are starkly different, that's probably the "off" that you're noticing.

Otherwise, leave and come back to it. There's a chance a scene feels off because you've written it too much and you're looking at it from the lens of the author who knows all, rather than the reader who knows very little and is learning on the fly.

Good luck! Let me know how it goes!

#writing #writers #writing tips #writing advice #writing inspiration #creative writing #writing community #books #film #filmmaking #screenwriting #novel writing #fanfiction #writeblr #scene SOS #how to fix an off scene

[misc-obeyme]

I really debated with myself about posting this lol. I don't often write headcanons from my own ideas because I get so many good requests for them. But I was feeling inspired to write this. It's pretty personal. I've been wanting to write some headcanons for a fat MC for a while, so here it is. I wrote something similar about beauty standards, but this is more specifically about weight.

They were getting wayyy too long, so this is just the three older brothers. I haven't written the others yet, but maybe I will. We'll see!

older brothers x fat GN!MC - NSFW MDNI

Warnings: discussion of weight and body image, suggestive content

Lucifer

He notices almost right away that you're insecure about your body. He can tell by the way you move, how you often avoid anything that you feel will call attention to parts of yourself that you don't like. He won't say anything to you about it at first. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, especially in the beginning. But in a quiet moment, away from the others, he will deliberately compliment the things he knows you struggle with. You'll probably catch on and tell him to stop, but that will only make him do it more.

Lucifer always pays close attention to you - he wants you to be happy and comfortable as much as possible. If you're in a relationship with him, he spends even more time around you and sees you in more vulnerable moments. He sees the way you might look in the mirror with a frown. The way you grab hold of your round belly or your thick thighs and sigh unhappily. He finds this very upsetting.

Unsurprisingly, he actually scolds you about it, but he softens it with kisses, touching you gently in every place that you seem to dislike. His scolding turns into whispers of how perfect you are, how much he loves every inch of you. He hates the way these words make you teary. He hates that you feel that way about yourself in any capacity. Don't you know that you're his? Do you not trust his judgment, MC?

Be careful what you say. If you continue to disagree, he's going to make sure you understand exactly how he feels. You're insecure about the size of your body? You're worried that it's too big, as if that even matters? You think you might be too heavy? Picks you up just to carry you to his bed. He's going to show you just how glorious that body of yours is by having you ride his cock so he can watch every part of you jiggle.

Mammon

Doesn't even realize that you might be struggling with this at first. You're perfect, everybody knows that, even you. It doesn't even cross his mind that you might not think about yourself the same way he does. But he figures it out. He starts to notice the way you act sometimes, the way you won't do anything too physical, like you're afraid of the way your body will look while you do it. Doesn't say anything, but might try to coax you into things. For example, he might grab your hands and get you to dance with him if he hears one of your favorite songs playing. Feels like he's succeeded if he's made you laugh.

It bothers him a lot, but he won't say anything, especially in the beginning. He doesn't like that you worry about something so unimportant. If you're in a relationship with him, though, it bothers him even more. Mammon knows that you feel like you're not good enough because of your body size. You may have even mentioned it briefly in passing. You aren't saying it to him directly, but he can still tell. And he doesn't like it at all.

Not going to beat around the bush. He calls you out on it. Asks you exactly what you're feeling, why you think he cares about your size. He wants you to be honest, so if you try to avoid the discussion, he won't let you. Gets unusually serious, even honest, tells you that you're everything to him, that he loves you more than anything. Maybe you can't feel that way about yourself, but you can at least trust him on this, right? He wouldn't lie to ya, MC. Not about this.

He's going to deliberately worship parts of you that you complain about. Stretch marks on your belly? He's peppering them with kisses. Don't like your love handles? He's holding onto them while thrusting into you slow and sweet. Worried that you're too heavy? He's absolutely going to make you sit on his face. No, you won't suffocate him. You'll be too distracted by the heat of his mouth unraveling you to worry about that.

Leviathan

Insecurity solidarity. He knows he's out of shape, but he's a shut in otaku! That's just how it goes! At first he doesn't realize how difficult it is for you. He's unaware of the way you've been treated by human society because of your weight. He figures it out the first time he wants to make a cosplay outfit for you. When you tell him very clearly that most things don't fit you, so if he wants you to wear them, they'll have to be altered first. The way you won't look at him when you say it. Then he's quick to reassure you. Don't worry about that, MC! He's really good at making outfits, so of course he'll be sure it's the right size for you. It'll fit perfectly!

He notices the way you react to fat people in media the two of you consume together. You point out how fat people are always the comedic relief or the villains. He never noticed this before, but you're right. Starts trying to find media where that isn't the case. Where there's some representation of your body type that's positive. Loves the way you grin at him when he shows them to you. Hates the way you sometimes cry when you actually experience the story.

In a relationship, Levi won't push you to talk about it in general, but he'll say something if he thinks you're worrying about it. He doesn't want you to think that your weight has an impact on how he feels about you. When you're getting down on yourself about it, he takes you swimming, just the two of you, in a secluded place. You're comfortable enough with him to wear a swimsuit, right? Holds your hands while you tread water. See how light you are? The water can hold you no problem and so can he.

Absolutely loves to bury his face in your soft body. Tummy, thighs, chest, anywhere there's rolls, he's snuggling in happily. Grips every part of you because he just loves the way you feel. Worried you won't fit in his bathtub? He's more than prepared to make you feel good even in a tight squeeze. But if you're uncomfortable, he has no problem bending you over his desk, too.

part two with the younger brothers | part three with the dateables

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me headcanons #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me smut #misc naughty times #misc writes

[searchingforgravity]

Have You Been Good (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Elvis gives you a call while he's away because he receives a rather bold letter from you in the mail.

TW: Dirty talk, smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, slight masochism

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1441

A/N: I was inspired to write this fic when I listened to the recording of Elvis and Anita's phone conversation. At one point, I thought I heard him be a little suggestive and wanted to explore that...enjoy!

"Hey Baby."

Elvis' soft mumble into the phone lulls you further into your sheets. It's silent in the background, so you assume he's back in his hotel room.

"Hi honey. Are you back in your hotel room?"

"Yes."

There is a slight pause. Sometimes, he's not much of a talker, but you don't mind. You like tell him about your day, and he hasn't complained about hearing it yet.

"How was your day?" you ask, playing with the cuticals on your fingers.

You hear him sigh as he adjusts his position on the hotel bed.

"It was alright. I uh- I got your letter in the mail today, little" he whispers into the phone, making you blush.

This letter was a letter you had written when you were particularly needy for him. You had written brash and explicit things in that letter.

"Oh. Y-You did?" you squeak, your previous confindence now gone.

"Mhm," he mumbles on the other end, hesitating slightly.

Your cheeks are burning. You hadn't thought about what would happen after he'd seen your letter. You are about to change the subject when he speaks up again, his words making you catch your breath.

"Have you been a good little baby?"

He had never talked to you this way on the phone before, but you aren't oblivious to what he's trying to do. You blush as you try to think of a response, completely tongue tied.

"W-What?" you stutter, nerves coursing through you.

"Have you been a good little baby?" he asks again, a hint of desperation in his voice, and it's impossible for you to mistake what he's trying to do.

A surge of pleasure courses through you at his words. You can't help the nervous chuckle that slips from your mouth.

"Elvis," you breathe, not sure how to respond.

"I'm excited for you," he mumbles, almost inaudibly, making you suck in a breath.

"Elvis!" you say louder, though you're now sitting up in bed, hanging onto his every word.

"Please, I've been a good little baby," he breathes, quite desperately, making you bite your lip involuntarily.

You hesitate slightly as you try to think of a response.

"Have you been?"

He groans at your words.

"I've been so good, baby. Been touchin' myself to your letter all damn day. Have you been thinkin' of me? Been a good baby?"

You gasp at his confession, arousal pooling to your core. You don't know how to handle the turn of this conversation. He's never tried to do this with you. But then, you've never sent him a letter like that before. You're glad now that you had.

"Y-Yes," you whisper, your cheeks flushing furiously.

"Yes what? Tell me, mama," he groans, making you suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Yes, I've been a good little baby," you say, making your voice sound airy the way you know turns him on.

You hear him groan louder, and it's not hard for you to guess what he's doing on the other line.

"Elvis! A-Are you...?" you start, but can't finish, your cheeks flushing at the realization of what he's doing.

"I can't help it, little. Want you so bad it hurts," he mutters, his words slurring together as pleasure courses through his body.

"I-I want you to touch yourself. Can you do that for me, baby?" he mumbles, his baby voice coming back.

"Elvis.." you whisper, embarassment coursing through you, though the arousal is stronger.

"There ain't no one listenin', sweet one. I-It's just you 'n me," he groans, and you envision him touching himself the way he would sometimes while you two would be intimate.

He loves when you watch him, says it gets him all hot. It honestly gets you all hot too.

"Oh God, Elvis," you groan, embarrassment flooding through every inch of you as you look to your bedroom door at Graceland, making sure you remembered to close it firmly.

You and Elvis have almost been caught with him kissing on you more times than you'd like to count. The rumble of Elvis' moan echos through the phone as he hears your voice and recognizes resignation in it.

"W-Well slow down! Let me get comfortable," you hiss into the phone, hearing him already getting carried away with himself.

"M'Sorry, baby, just hurts so bad. I miss you, honey," he slurs together, whiny and breathless.

Your head lulls back as you hear his voice, the tone doing things to your body that you sometimes wished you weren't so privy to. Trailing your hand down your stomach, your mind goes back to all the times Elvis would press against you in pure desire, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear.

"E-Elvis, I need you so bad. I'm aching for you," you whisper, not trusting yourself to raise your voice much higher as your hand reaches your throbbing core.

The moan on the other end of your phone makes you suck your bottom lips between your teeth, a whine threatening to escape your throat.

"Oh, little, say it again."

You do as you're told, causing a slur of hushed profanities to escape his lips.

"Are you touching yourself? Oh baby, I was missin' you so much, t-then I get that damn letter. I can hardly stand it, not bein' with you. Wanna touch you so bad. I wanna make you feel good, honey. Wanna do all those things you wrote in that letter. D-Didn't know you liked some of those things."

You finally let a weak moan escape your lips as your head leans back against the pillows, your finger circling your swollen nub. Your face flushes the slightest bit from the memory of some of the things you had written in that letter. One of them being a fantasy you had for quite some time; one that you were a little worried to tell him.

"You wanna do...everything?" you whine out, your eyes closing at the pleasure your hand is giving you.

"Yes, mama, so bad. I-I'd never hurt ya', you know that right?"

"I know, Elvis. You don't think it's-"

"I think it made me painfully hard to think of. M-My hand 'round that pretty throat of yours. Fuck, little..."

The mere thought of him enjoying your fantasy causes you to groan out, your movements on your core becoming more frantic.

"God, Elvis..." you whine, your eyes now squeezed shut as you think of how good it would feel having his hand around your throat.

"You'd like that, baby? My hand squeezin' ya? Tell me, mama. Fuck, tell me how bad you want it," he groans out more urgently than before.

"I want it so bad. W-Whenever I see your hands, I think about how they'd feel around me. I think of it so much, Elvis. I-I want it to hurt...just a little."

"Baby," he whines, his breaths coming out in soft gasps.

He seems to be getting off to this fantasy just as much as you are.

"I'd never hurt ya' though. Y-You know I couldn't. Couldn't hurt my baby..." he trails, lost in pleasure.

You bite your lip harshly, your pleasure close to it's peak, the soft groans from your boyfriend only urging you on.

"Just want you to take what's yours," you whimper into the phone.

"Fuck, mama. Goddamn, I'm close. Shit, baby, the things you're doin' to me."

"I need you, Elvis. Need you so bad."

"Gonna give you everything you need, baby. Everything. Promise," he grumbles.

You feel a snap as your pleasure reaches its peak, overflowing as a soft cry leaves your lips. You hear Elvis following suit as a muffled shout rings through the phone, followed by a string of profanities. You softly ride yourself through your orgasm before removing your hand from your heat, your chest heaving and your mind buzzing from the exertion. Your mind is so fogged for a second that you don't hear Elvis calling to you on the phone.

"Little, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sorry honey, I'm just..." you trail, slightly embarrassed in the aftermath of your orgasm.

You hear a soft, tired sounding chuckle from him.

"Feeling good?" he questions, his tone a little teasing.

"Elvis," you sigh, your hand coming to pull the covers over your slightly exposed body.

"Sorry, I was sayin' I love you, honey."

You smile.

"I love you too."

"A-And, I'm really turned on now. Wish I could feel ya'. I'll do everything on that damn letter. I'll do just about anything if you tease me like this."

You smirk to yourself. That is good to know for the future.

"I can't wait for you to come home, Elvis."

Masterlist

Tag List:

@flowersofcement @looloolily @tantamount-treason @horrorgirl4life @peaceloveelvis @goldobsessionsworld @father-of-2cats

#elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis 2022 #elvis presley smut #elvis fanfic #elvis the pelvis #elvis fans

[borderlinereminders]

This is an article I've shared before that I've written, but I wanted to share it again so that I could post the text below the read more for those that aren't comfortable clicking to an external site.

This is a post about how to work on avoiding giving into harmful urges.

Something that comes up a lot in BPD, but also a number of other disorders, is impulse control and urges.

It can be so hard to not give in. For example, when feeling angry, we might have an urge to scream at someone, say something hurtful, harm ourselves or any number of things.

It’s really important to learn how to cope with harmful impulses and urges.

One way to do this is what is called Urge Surfing. Urge surfing is about “riding the wave” of an urge. The longer you resist an urge, the stronger it seems to get, much like the building of a wave. If you do give into an urge, that teaches your brain that giving into the urge is the only way to make it go away. However, research has shown that urges generally last for 20 to 30 minutes. It may feel like it’s going to keep on getting stronger and stronger until you give into it, but much like a wave, it will break and go away if you can avoid it.

Trying to directly stop an urge can be difficult. If you have ever tried to swim directly against a wave, you know that it can be exhausting. Especially as it gets stronger, it can feel like a wave will overwhelm you. On the other hand, if you swim to the side or otherwise do not work directly against the wave, you can move out of its power or give it time to break and dissipate without using nearly as much energy. Working with urges can be exactly the same.

One way I resist an urge is the “not now, later” approach. With this approach, I tell myself that, “Okay, you want to do that thing? That’s fine, but it has to be later.” I find this works for a lot of things because when I outright tell myself, “no,” I find it harder to let go of the urge. By telling myself I can give into the urge, but do it later, I find I can ignore the urge in less discomfort and usually by the time later arrives (I like a “sleep on it” rule for later, depending on the situation), the urge has passed and I can move on. If I do this repeatedly, I teach my brain to understand that the urge will go away whether I act on it or not.

Some things that can be useful to do when Urge Surfing:

Recognize and acknowledge that you are having an urge

Notice and describe the thoughts and feelings you are having, without trying to change or suppress them. This may be uncomfortable, but that’s okay. Discomfort while feeling an urge is normal.

Remind yourself:

There is nothing wrong with having urges. They are normal and natural parts of having addictions, habits and desires.

Discomfort is okay.

An urge is a desire, not a need. I can have an urge and choose not to act.

Urges are temporary. They will pass, whether I give into them or not.

Some other things you can do are focus on distracting yourself whether that’s by activities you like, grounding techniques or just overall keeping busy.

Remind yourself that you are in control. As hard as it is, you can choose not to act on your urge. It may feel impossible, but you can do it, and reminding yourself of that can help.

If it helps you, you can journal about your feelings and urges. Sometimes writing them down can help us realize why the urge isn’t good to give into. With that said, you can also spend some time thinking about why you shouldn’t do the thing you want to do. For example, you don’t want to yell at your friend because you know the feeling you’re experiencing is temporary and you don’t want to cause them unfair hurt which can also have lasting effects on your friendship. (With that said, if after you are calmer and you rationally think that cutting a friend off is better for your own mental health, then you should do that.)

And as time goes on, the urge should get less. This can help us because we are aware the discomfort we are in won’t last. If we feel like the discomfort won’t go away until we act on the urge, we are more likely to act on the urge to make it stop. Remind yourself that it will pass on its own.

Over time, Urge Surfing can help your brain learn that it doesn’t need to react to urges. It can help to make urges easier to avoid giving into, in the long-term.

#my blog posts #urge surfing

[bonni]

I've talked before about how I think hisoka's reputation as a "well-written villain" is undeserved and I still stand by that for reasons I'll get into at the end of this post. but I think the most frustrating thing about hisoka as a character is that I understand where that reputation comes from, because sometimes his character really works and thinking about what he could have been compared to what he is is infuriating.

hxh is, at its core, a shounen deconstruction, and one of its major themes is how the blind ambition of hunters is damaging on both an individual and interpersonal level. this is specifically reflected in gon, who's ambition and stubbornness hurts himself and the people around him (this post isn't about kurapika but obviously he is a prime example of this as well and the two have major character parallels). both ging and hisoka act as foils to gon, harboring the same blind ambition as he does but in increasingly twisted ways, with ging becoming so easily bored he can't treat a single human being with basic respect, and hisoka literally fetishizing ambition itself; gon, as a child, also finds himself facing abuse and assault at the hands of both of them, and they both use their twisted world view as a justification, with ging neglecting him for his entire life, grooming other vulnerable people in the process, and instructing them to hurt gon, and hisoka literally molesting him.

people sometimes get offended when you talk about the similarities between gon and hisoka, because yeah it feels kind of icky to compare a 12-year-old kid to the adult pedophile who's assaulting him. but the parallels exist for a reason, and that reason isn't to say that gon's going to turn out like this guy, it's to illustrate that hisoka's path is one potential outcome to prioritizing your own ambition over the lives of others. hisoka doesn't have a single relationship that isn't grounded in his own selfish worldview, and neither does ging. these are the people that gon admires and wants to surpass.

gon finally landing a punch on hisoka is an awesome moment, but in retrospect, it's upsetting. it reminds me of utena's duel against mikage; instead of confronting the ways in which they're unhealthily similar to their opponents and maybe doing some soul-searching, our protagonists celebrate the progress they've made towards their own destruction. gon's march towards a self-inflicted doom is a slow and steady one, and the chimera ant arc is the climax. gon can't be a great hunter like ging or hisoka. he cares too much about other people, and it destroys him.

so, yeah. as a foil to gon and as a source of commentary on the way a traditional shounen world encourages child abuse (not unlike our own world, hm?) hisoka is actually a good villain. the problem is, he isn't written consistently. togashi seems to like him too much and is fixated on making him some sort of anti-hero, which completely detracts from his supposed role as a villain! and, elephant in the room, he's still a homophobic stereotype. if you're going to write a predator, don't make him effeminate, and also include gay characters in your work who aren't predators (I do believe killua is intentionally gay coded but let's be honest, it's not enough). and when we look at the way gon's history of grooming and characters like palm are handled, it just becomes increasingly obvious that togashi doesn't really care about making any commentary about csa in a respectful or appropriate way. at best, it's there for shock value, and at worst, it's literally a joke. I will never respect the way that hisoka's character is handled in the series, but I do understand his appeal as a villain, and I really do wish he was written in a more respectful and consistent way.

#chatter #hunter x hunter #hxh meta

[johaerys-writes]

Would you be interested in sharing some of your fav books/scholars/academics/papers on The Iliad?

Hello! And thank you for this ask!! Basically, my research on Homer focuses a lot on Achilles and his relationship with Patroclus; I sometimes read works that are about the Iliad in general, but most of it is with Patroclus and Achilles in mind. But I do often come across interesting works on the Iliad as a whole, so I'll list some of them here. I have a lot of stuff to share, I'll keep it as brief as I can because I don't want to overwhelm anyone lol.

Books

As far as books go, I have several different translations of the Iliad, and most of the time each translation has its own introduction, sometimes by another classicist. Those are a great place to start. My favourites are Caroline Alexander's Iliad translation, and the introduction she wrote herself. I like Caroline Alexander's work in general, including her book on the Iliad The War That Killed Achilles (which my pal Baejax sent me bc I couldn't find it anywhere here <3 <3), because her writing is clear, straightforward and informative. Her translation is my go to translation at the moment because I like how faithful it is to the original Greek, it's the one I keep next to my bedside and which is full of bookmarks and notes LOL.

Another favourite is Robert Fagles' translation, with an introduction by Bernard Knox (who also wrote an excellent introduction to Robert Fagles' translation of the Aeneid). Even though Robert Fagles' translation isn't as close to the original as others, I love it because it is just so beautiful. It is definitely the one with the most staying power if you ask me, some passages are just chef's kiss. Bernard Knox's intro is also super informative (although he doesn't really go into Patroclus' and Achilles' relationship), and when he supplements his analysis with Fagles' gorgeous text it's just a wonderful experience.

Another translation that I recommend to anyone who can read modern Greek is the one by N. Kazantzakis & G. Kakridis, I think it's THE iconic Greek translation if you ask me. It has a lot of idiomatic language and expressions and it might not be as easy to get into as other Greek translations are, but it's truly beautiful and lyrical and it is entirely written in 17-syllable lines in iambic metre, adapting Homer's dactylic hexameter to modern Greek. Verse translations aren't really a thing for most English translations, which is a shame if you ask me. I think it's pretty much the only translation I've read so far that really invites you to read it out loud, as the original work was intended.

I do have Emily Wilson's translation as well but I haven't read it yet (I KNOW, SHAME ON ME), I really want to give it my full attention and I just haven't had the time yet. But I've read bits of the introduction and also parts of the translation and so far I love them. I hope to be back with a more informed opinion once I've actually read it LOL

Scholars

I have to admit that I don't follow any specific scholar religiously. I tend to read whatever catches my interest. That being said, I do love Emily Wilson's work and I've read several of her articles and papers, I think they're really informative and well-written. When she was doing the promotion for her Iliad translation on Twitter I read a lot of the stuff she posted and they were all great. My favourite was her interview with Madeline Miller which you can read here. I also liked this review of her Iliad translation that I read recently, written by Stephanie Mc Carter. Basically, I follow her on Twitter and read the articles she posts, and some are very interesting. I also went to see her in person when she gave a lecture in Athens in October, it was really good but unfortunately it isn't online anymore so I can't link it :(

I also really like watching Madeline Miller interviews on Youtube, I think I've watched every single one that's out there and even though some of them are brief or repetitive because interviewers usually ask her the same questions, I do think she always has something interesting to says both related to her books/writing but also the Iliad and the Odyssey that have inspired her. There are two interviews in particular that I like, this one which is more about TSOA and the Iliad, and this one which is more about Circe and the Odyssey. I genuinely enjoy listening to her a lot, I find it very calming.

My friend @darlingpoppet recently introduced me to the work of Celsiana Warwick, and I've really enjoyed reading her stuff!! Particularly this one which is about conjugal bonds and the homoerotic subtext of the Iliad, and this one which is about gender and kleos in the Iliad. Good stuff, and I look forward to reading more!

Papers

There are a few papers about Achilles and Patroclus that I really like and that I go back to from time to time. I have far too many in my jstor account and can't go through all of them right now, but these spring to mind:

Achilles and Patroclus in Love by W.M. Clarke, it's a very informative analysis of the homoerotic subtext of the Iliad and tries to "prove" in a way that Achilles and Patroclus are in a romantic/erotic relationship. Super interesting!

The Relationship between Achilles and Patroclus according to Chariton of Aphrodisias and Was the Relationship between Achilles and Patroclus Homoerotic? The View of Apollonius Rhodius by Gabriel Laguna-Mariscal and Manuel Sanz-Morales are two very interesting analyses of Achilles and Patroclus' relationship in relation to other ancient works, they're not too long and I found them very fun to read.

Euphorbus and the Death of Achilles by Roberto Nickel is super interesting and has some really cool takes on the deaths of Hector, Achilles and Patroclus and how they are all related.

Some more stuff

Some more videos I've watched and find rather interesting are The Contemporary Relevance of the Iliad by Erwin Cook, Why Homer Matters which is a talk between Adam Nicholson and Paul Cartledge (whose work and lectures on ancient greek history are always super informative!! I love watching his stuff even if they're not directly Iliad-related) I don't vibe with everything that's said in this video honestly nor do I agree with a lot of Nicholson's takes but they did make some interesting points about Homer's relevance and the emphasis on honour/glory in a world without justice and in a war without good leadership, so it might be worth a watch. Lastly, another series of video lectures that I really like is Homer's The Iliad and The Odyssey, it's five lectures in total and a great introduction to the Homeric works which also goes into the historical context a little bit, very informative even for someone who is well versed in Homer.

I hope this helped! I can't think of any more off the top of my head now, and I really should get ready to leave for work lmao, but if I do think of anything else, I'll add it here :D Also, if you're reading this and have something to add feel free to do so!

#patrochilles #achilles #patroclus #the iliad #homer's iliad #greek mythology #greek literature