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#he’s also the one factor that I could flat out remove
kuroosimpurou · 2 months
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In which Astarion rejects Tav
or Tav gets hanahaki disease
dedicated to @bubblegumbitchs-world thank you for the request :* let me know if you’d like this written a different way i am here to please you sire!!
Warnings: Body horror, I got a little carried away with the idea of flower blooming in someone’s chest sorry sorry
Disclaimer: IDK much about the true order of events in the game sorry is all over the place!
Astarion had flat out rejected Tav. It had stung. He wasn't delicate with it either. Sneering at the idea of sex with them and then laughing about it. Tav had shrugged it off, hoping he couldn't see the tears starting to leak out as they realized their romantic feelings were not at all reciprocated. It was just a crush, it would pass. But then it didn't. It got so much worse.
Tav had tried to keep their relationship with Astarion platonic, pushing their feelings down. Every time he sat next to them they tried to ignore the way their skin flushed and their heartbeat sped up. He had to know what he was doing.
Astarion was fully aware of what he was doing. He was toying with Tav's blatant crush on him. It was useful to have the group's fearless leader develop a soft spot for him. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought of that before rejecting them with little tact. It hadn't seemed to dull their desires for him, thank the gods. He needed to be better about planning his schemes. He was lucky they still let him drink from them.
But things had gotten strained between them. Tav was behaving strangely and their was something off in their blood. It now tasted slightly, floral. Curious. He missed the sweet taste.
Tav had also been steeling off more for time alone. Astarion saw the pain in their eyes and feared he was taking this teasing a bit too far, he needed to reel them back in. Throw them a bone.
Something was wrong inside of Tav's chest. At first they thought it was just congestion, they'd been travelling in the cold for a while and it wouldn't be out of the question. But then the blood started coming. It hurt, ripped through their throat as they coughed and coughed hoping it would bring some relief.
They were going to go to Shadowheart, finally fed up with the unrelenting pain when a flower petal came out with the blood. Horror and embarrassment filled Tav. They knew what this was. It was a disease whispered about and used to make tragic romance stories more dramatic. Tav had never considered they'd get it.
Did they really love Astarion? It hadn't even been six months since they'd found him after the crash and he'd held a knife to their throat. Sure, they thought of him all the time and felt more alive than they had ever felt when in his presence, but was that love? The proof was staring at them in the blood covered petals they had just vomited up on the forest floor.
This disease also had another factor that didn't surprise Tav but still hurt to have confirmed so . . . viscerally. Unrequited love caused this. Astarion didn't love Tav back. Hells he barely even liked them.
Hunched over and away from camp, Tav took deep breaths to calm their racing heart as they weighed their options. This condition was deadly if left untreated and it could only be treated by the love being requited, out of the question, or surgery. Ok, surgery was doable. They could speak with Volo. He'd offered to remove the mind flayer through surgery, an offer Tav was still pissed none of their companions had allowed them to take, surely he could remove this.
With one last body racking cough, Tav wiped the blood from the mouth and stood up to make way back to the camp before anyone noticed their prolonged absence. Their chest still burned, they could feel the petals forming and pushing against their ribcage. Rubbing at the spot the pain was most prominent, they began to trudge back to camp.
Astarion had been eyeing the spot of forest Tav had disappeared to. He was sitting outside his tent trying to seem casual with a book in his lap but his gaze hadn't left the spot Tav was last visible. Worry began to worm its way into his chest, an uncomfortable feeling. Tav was slowly endearing themselves to him. They respected his rejection and never pushed him, something he had not expected. He hadn't thought his telling them he didn't want to have sex with them that night would quell any further advancement. It was nice that his no had been respected. He hadn't been respected in centuries.
Tav was also just so annoyingly kind and while at first it grated him beyond belief, as that kindness was turned toward him he saw its appeal. This friendship where they never pushed him for a spot in his bedroll was surprisingly nice. It was slowly making him want more, an ironic development.
His train of thought was halted by the smell of Tav's blood hitting him. Tav was bleeding. The thought rang out in his head as Astarion stood and practically sprinted towards them.
Tav was halfway back when Astarion ran up on them. At first their heart fluttered at the idea that he had noticed their absence, but then another coughing fit hit them. A bodily reminder that they didn't mean to him what he meant to them.
Astarion panicked at the blood seeping from Tav's mouth. He bounded to them, grabbing their facing gently as he tried to examine their face. Was it a cut in their mouth or internal bleeding?
"Tav what happened? Where are you hurt?" His voice filled with panic.
Tav meant something to him, a surprising revelation. He felt their pain in his own chest as they met his eyes. A tenderness Astarion had forgotten his was capable of came out as Tav's eyes filled with tears. His thumbs rubbed up and down their cheeks in an effort to catch the tear tracks and soothing noises came from his mouth. Astarion had no control over it, his body's desperation to comfort this person an uncontainable thing. But this wasn't just a person, this was Tav. Tav who was willing to fight for him, respect him, and care for him in ways he didn't even deserve before he was turned into a damned undead thing of the night.
"When did this injury happen dear?" Astarion's voice was a whisper soaked in a saccharine feeling he wouldn't name.
A cough racked through Tav and they ducked away from him. Astarion smelled the blood as it poured from their mouth. Tav doubled over moaning, "Please go back to camp, I don't want you to see me like this."
Astarion scoffed. They'd seen his fucking scars but he couldn't see them sick? How unfair and hypocritical. Tav knew nearly everything about him from how Cazador had tortured him to how he had been forced to use his body for his master's gain. He knew most of Tav's own story, but this mistrust in him and unwillingness to be as open as they had made him stirred familiar feelings of hatred and contempt in him. This was easier. He leaned into it.
"Fine," he spat holding up his hands and taking a step back, "die alone and in the forest for all I care. I just thought you'd allow me to help you after you pulled every deep dark secret out of me. I suppose gathering information of people while keeping your own secrets under lock and key is just how you manipulate us all into following you as our benevolent leader."
Tav looked up at him at that. He knew exactly where to aim his dagger to fatally wound their heart. Tav had never felt assured in their role as the leader of this ragtag group and him confirming their fears about themselves was the worst thing he could say to Tav.
Before they could respond their body was overcome by another bought of coughing. Something came out along with the blood and Astarion forgot his anger. Tav fell to their knees and clawed at their chest.
"Shit!" Astarion yelled as he knelt down next to Tav, once again reaching for them assessing for injury.
"Please tell me what's wrong, I'll take you to Shadowheart. Please Tav," Astarion didn't know what he was pleading for anymore.
Tav looked up at him again, blood pooling from their mouth. They coughed again and spit out a petal. What the fuck? Astarion went to pick it up and examine it but Tav grabbed his wrist. He looked into Tav's eyes and saw such desperation it made him want to vomit. What was wrong with them? He wanted his annoying yet charmingly cheerful companion back.
"Go away please," Tav begged.
"Why? Why won't you let me help you?" Astarion grabbed Tav by the shoulders to hold them up as he seethed.
Tav just shook their head and tried to hold in their cough. Blood began to dribble out of both sides of their mouth, running down their chin. Their eyes rolled back in their head. Tav finally coughed and opened their mouth, petals soaked in their blood sliding out.
Astarion had no idea what was wrong with them and that made him panic harder. Tav's body started to go slack. He easily caught them and lifted them into his arms. He cradled their head into his chest as coughs continued to rack through their body.
Tav wanted to apologize for getting blood and petals all over his shirt but their voice wouldn't come. It was getting harder and harder to breath. Their vision was going black around the edges.
Astarion felt Tav's body getting weaker and weaker. He sprinted back to the camp screaming desperately for Shadowheart. It wasn't his proudest moment, he completely lost his composure. At least it terrified everyone enough to get Tav immediate help.
Shadowheart couldn't treat them, nothing was working. She'd cast some spells that allowed them to sleep and made the coughing die down a bit, but they still looked deathly. No one knew what the petals they were hacking up were. Gale had taken one to his tent for examination. They deduced it must be some sort of fungal infection but no one knew how to fucking fix it. They were all useless and he told them as much.
Astarion was the only one who sat with Tav all night. Holding their hand, wiping the sweat off their forehead, and speaking soothing words whenever they stirred awake. They mumbled his name whenever that happened and it made his chest constrict.
He had vowed long ago to never beg, plead, or pray ever again. It had never done him any good. But tonight he broke that vow, pleading with any god he could with the same desperation he used to pray for release from Cazador. But now he was praying for Tav. Begging for salvation, for them to open their eyes and smile shyly under his gaze. He needed to hear their voice, he needed them be ok.
He needed Tav.
The realization hit him like a truck. He wasn’t supposed to care for them, hells he’d been planning to seduce them and manipulate their feelings for him. This feeling was never part of any of his half-baked plans. But here it was.
As Astarion sat having an internal crisis, the pain in Tav’s chest began to ease. The pressure on their ribcage began to recede. The blooming flowers began to curl inward and disappear.
Tav awoke gasping for air as the passage finally cleared. They clawed at their chest once more, spasming a bit on the bedroll as they searched for the pain that was no longer there.
Astarion was on them in an instant, hovering and assessing what was wrong. He’d shrieked again for Shadowheart fearing this was the end of this person he’d only just realized he held affections for.
But when Tav sat up with ease and laughed, Astarion lunged for them. He meant it to be more malicious, he was still furious with them, but his arms just engulfed them in a hug. Clutching them to his chest, Astarion didn’t even register the tears of relief falling as he was too engrossed in the sound of their breathing and steady heartbeat.
Tab gripped him just as hard as they realized they were completely cured. The disease was gone without a trace. Their lungs felt better than ever. And Astarion loved them. He loved them. What a magical thing that was.
A/N: This took forever bc my niece gave me the gift of illness for Christmas love her though! Let me know what you think, I’ve never read a hanahaki disease fic before this request so I hope I did the iconic trope justice. <3
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fanaticsnail · 3 months
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The Hawk and the Fledgling (P2)
Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.
Word Count: 3,365 (Yeah, it was meant to be a drabble but the words ran away with me again)
I ended the year with Mihawk, looks like I'm starting the year off with him too! Lets goooooooo.
Warnings: Kissing, pining, longing, fighting, mentions of illness, drinking, kissing.
Taglist: @whatthemonsterfuckisthis, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @alphaash99, @someobsessionrequired, @bookandstar
Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from  unrequited love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.
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You presented your thumb and index finger up to your swollen lips, chapped and coarse from the hoarse coughing while warm to the touch. You felt no remanence of the illness that once eclipsed your body and rendered it unresponsive and trapped beneath the curling vines. The only aspect that remained was a small flurry of pale flower petals atop your tongue, prompting you to reach your fingers inwards to pull them out.
You were still sitting atop the wooden table Mihawk had placed you on moments prior, shock falling from your every fiber. You felt warm, light and breathless. Even though you had no weight placed on your chest, you felt burdened by the knowledge that lord Dracule Mihawk thought himself not to be the harborer of your affections.
As soon as you pinched one of the soft petals from its place atop your tongue and held it up to your eyes to examine the almost innocent-looking harbinger of doom, the door swung wide and Zoro was shoved harshly onto the cobblestone floor. His heavy boots were thumping franticly against the stone with haste, his eyes wide and searching yours for any affliction.
“I’ve brought the oaf for you,” your mentor spoke, his eyes not meeting with yours as he hastily walked through the kitchen to the leather-bound wall displaying his vast collection of wines. The many bottles were laying flat, perpendicular to the floor in catalogued rows from whites, roses and reds. Selecting one without reading the label, he reached his hand down and found a corkscrew and began hastily, and almost aggressively, brandishing it to rid the cork from the bottle neck.
Zoro gasped, sauntering over to you with wide strides and taking your cheek beneath his palm. He rose your chin upwards with the angle of his wrist, eyes darting between yours as his thumb smoothed a small circle over your cheekbone. He circled his grip down, your bottom lip feeling contact from his calloused thumb atop it as he continued looking you over.
“Hanahaki, right? Love unrequited?” he whispered softly, leaning down lower to your face in a low stoop. His eyes were warm, soft and almost apprehensive – a painted triad you were yet to see atop the green-haired swordsman.
This was the fifth time you were rendered speechless this day: the first being the knowledge that such an affliction exists in this realm, death and withering away your body by the doomed flowers and vines strangling your organs. The second was the knowledge that your unrequited and intense emotional love for your mentor, Dracule Mihawk, was the factor propelling you into this dooming fate. The third, Mihawk assumed your doom was due to the fact you were infatuated with your peer and his fellow pupil – not himself. The fourth, Mihawk confessed he had held a certain romantic fondness towards you; your love not as unrequited as you once thought.
The fifth was the fact that Zoro was descending in his stoop; his face leaning closer and closer to you, his lips drawing ever nearer to yours as he closed his eyes. Halting his descent, he raised his unoccupied hand up to brush several strands of hair out from shieling your gaze from his. Your lips were almost brushing, you could feel the heat from his breath tinted with the flavor of green matcha-mochi and cherry blossom tea.
“I do not yet harbor love powerful enough for you romantically,” he whispered, moving his hand through your hair to cradle the back of your head, while falling his other to rest atop your shoulder, “but I am a fast learner.”
At that, your eyes widened further as he pressed his lips against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. You rasped out a small squeak as Zoro deepened the kiss, his brow furrowing as he deeply inhaled through his nose and circled his chin to rotate the open mouthed kiss he was pressing against you. He reached down, pulling your wrists upwards to circle his neck in order to bring you closer against him. His torso pushed flush against yours, he redrew his palms upwards to collect your face and lace his fingertips into the back of your hair once more.
He was passionate, deliberate and also cautionary. He was falling all of his desire onto you, along with the desperation that comes with the knowledge that one of his friends is ill – this embrace being the only cure, to his current knowledge. Hearing a small ‘pop’ of the cork being pried away from the green-stained wine bottle, the next sounds that were heard within the room was the glugging pour from the bottle into a crystal glass.
Continuing to remain unresponsive, and eyes perpetually unblinking and wide in shock, you brought your shaking hands down to Zoro’s chest and gave him a small shove to halt his movements. He apprehensively drew himself away from your lips, eyes first closed while his lips almost chased yours in response to his withdrawal. You pushed him a little harder to halt more deep and passionate kisses being pressed into your lips, while listening to a small whistled chirp sound indicating Mihawk was oxidizing his selected vintage over his palate and tongue.
Zoro received the message and pulled away from your lips, a frown prominent against his face and kiss-swollen lips partially parted. His eyes searched yours, leaning forward to press his forehead against your own to bring himself closer to you.
“Are you okay? Is everything okay? Was this okay-?” he began, halting as you pressed your four fingers against his lips to halt his words. Pushing your forehead against his in return of his physical affection, you whispered in a voice only audible for him to hear.
“Zoro, I adore you. You are my best friend, my peer. My brother in arms,” you removed your hand from his lips and caressed his cheek. Sighing out a deep breath, you shut your eyes as you spoke low your confession, “but it was not you that was holding me hostage to the disease.”
Zoro’s eyes widened, immediately seeking the gaze of his mentor who seemed to be looking bored and as disinterested as he could make himself out to be. His arms were crossed, him holding the crystal wineglass filled to the brim with crimson liquid and leaning against the marble benchtop with his legs crossed at the ankles.
“But you’re okay now. What does that mean?” he asked, his tone curious and almost frantic. He drew his gaze back to you and a warm blush tinted his cheeks as your confession dawned on him. “You haven’t spoken to Perona yet, so I doubt it was her. Does that mean- did he, did he-.”
“-Zoro, if you wouldn’t mind,” you winced out, a blush rising of your own to spread warmth over the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. Zoro immediately got the message, his nose scrunching up and shoving you playfully with his arm as his wolfy grin spread over his lips to paint his face with his knowing smile.
“A shame,” he chuckled, turning from you to make his way out of the kitchen, “I would’ve liked to see where this goes.” You laughed in response, looking to the ground as you swung your legs down from their position atop the table and jumped to place them on the floor. Mihawk’s unblinking gaze trailed after Zoro, scowling at the smirk his young apprentice offered. Zoro turned once more, arched his eyebrows up twice at you and closed the kitchen door behind him.
“What does that mean, Fledgling? Rabbit done with you so soon?” He arched his brow up as you approached. You steadied your breath and reached up to collect the wineglass from Mihawk’s fingers and placed it on the countertop behind him.
“I was drinking that, Fledgling,” he lazily disregarded you, turning away and bringing his hand over to collect the stem of the crystal glass from atop the counter. You immediately halted him by placing your hand atop his wrist, your eyes brimming with caution over how he’d receive such a touch. Keeping your gaze fixed on the hand clutching his wrist, you sucked in a slow breath and allowed the caution to remain steadfast in shielding your intentions from him.
“Sir,” you addressed him, his chin lazily snapping over to hold his intense and spiteful irises against your smaller form.
“Yes, fledgling?” was all he said in response to you words. You took a moment to syphon through your thoughts, attempting to relay what you needed to in order to confess your disease and the cure of it; only to have them halted as soon as they formed behind your lips.
“Little kiss fixed you up, did it? The rabbit and the fledgling, hardly a fit I would match. However,” he turned his gaze away from your face to fixate on his wineglass atop the marble bench behind him, “it is fitting, considering your age and stage. A match many would desire: similar interests-.”
“Sir,” you uttered a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his lazy and annoyed rant; but alas, to no avail.
“I should move your rooms closer together. It would be good to spur on your training: pit you against one another to bring more passion into your sparring-,” he continued, rolling his eyes and breaking his wrist away from your grip to reclaim his crystal chalice filled with the bitter taste of a darkened Shiraz. Your temper was hanging by a thread, your nerves shot alite under your emotional state.
You had nearly died of a broken heart, Mihawk had confessed his fondness for you – healing you with his words. Zoro had kissed you, something you neither needed nor desired for yourself – especially since recovering from the death-like illness. And Mihawk: your boss, your mentor, your love, he was continuing to absolutely dance around his own confession by continuing to drink, and talk.
“My lord-,” you attempted to draw in his attention to you by using his formal title, to no avail.
“-I shall send for a priest. Perhaps you’ll be married by the weeks end-,” he turned away from you and drew up the chalice to his lips. Agitation was growing within him, his lips curling up and eyes narrowing.
“Lord Mihawk-,” you hoped his name would bring some kind of sway over him, but he continued on his tirade of nonsensical theatrics.
“-I will have Perona be your witness. Considering no family for either of you present; it will be up to me to give you away, I suppose-,” his voice was increasing in volume, his anger rolling off him in waves.
“-Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you reached your arm to collect his shoulder beneath your palm, only for him to roughly shake off your tender touch.
He turned to face you, his brows deep in their descent against his forehead. He was enraged; understandable from his perspective. He not only witnessed his own unrequited love be cured of their disease by another, but willingly drew him in to present his lips against your own. All he could do was watch and wallow in his own rage.
“And where will you honeymoon, hm?! Going to make some strong, sword-wielding children soon, I presume! You’ll need to halt your training in favor of your-.”
You lunged forward, jumping high enough to grip his shoulders with your arms and wove yourself around his form: legs hooking his hips and joining together behind him by your ankles. You immediately circled his neck with your arms and dragging him onto you and smashing his lips against your own to silence his taunts. Your hands wove into his hair, his form immediately falling victim to your embrace with a small stumble. His right hand clutched the wineglass firmly, although the liquid spilt over the brim at the hastiness of your embrace.
His unoccupied hand drew itself up to hook itself around your waist and hold you flush against his torso. Opening his lips, he danced his tongue around your swollen bottom lip and joined it with your own with a low gasped moan. Sharing breaths, you continued to harshly reciprocate his almost violent and desperate collision of lips, tongue and teeth. If he pushed firm, you pushed harder. If he brushed his tongue with yours, you lightly bit the organ with your teeth.
As he trained you to continue to advance in brandishing your blade towards an enemy, never backing down for any reason; you continued this mantra as you wove your fingers into his blackened waves of loose curls atop his head. The actions, however, were absolutely reciprocated by the man woven between your thighs. If you bit his tongue, he pushed your face away and trailed a violent flurry of open mouthed kisses against your chin, jaw and neck – tongue swirling over your pulse before reclaiming his lips with your own.
You reached your hands up, removing his wide hat from his head to get a better anchorage against his body, prompting him to unceremoniously throw the crystal chalice against the polished cobblestone floor. The red liquid pooled at his feet, prompting a gasp to rise from your parted lips. Taking this small moment of distraction, Mihawk used both arms to hook beneath your legs and rotate you around him – pressing now your body against the marble countertop and burying his face on the exposed flesh between your neck and shoulder. His lips grazed over the skin, a tingle shooting up your spine and elevating the hairs on the back of your neck to stand to attention.
“M-My lord,” you stuttered out in a breathy whisper, your eyes glazed over and irises blown with lust. He growled in response, claiming a small portion of skin between his pearled teeth and biting your flesh gently. He moved his lips up, trailing and pressing soft and tender kisses against each area of skin revealed to him.
“If this be the only time I will ever be permitted to kiss you,” he whispered against your cheek, pressing a soft brush of his kiss-stricken lips atop the smooth area; his silken moustache scratching against the skin, “I won’t waste a single moment on words, Fledgling.” He pressed a slow and timid kiss against your lips, his eyes closed as he allowed himself this small tender moment to fall over him and onto you.
You shook your head into the kiss, arching your back against his torso to remove his latch on your lips. His strong arms held you firm, you feeling his arms grip you tighter in response.
“Mihawk,” you managed to utter, his name being the only thing to halt his advance at this stage. He fell his forehead against the base of your neck, feeling his dark curls tickle your chin, and his heavy breath fall against your chest.
“Forgive me, Fledgling,” he uttered, removing his hands from their grip beneath your thighs and placing them atop the marble beside your hips. He was not quite ready to fall away from your embrace, but did not want to push his luck further.
Gathering enough courage to finally break your confession through, the words flew from your mouth at lightning speed.
“My lord, it’s you. You were the reason I suffered in such a way. You were why I was pushing myself so hard in training. You were the reason I broke my body under your direction, daily. My lord,” you took his whiskered chin beneath your fingers and elevated his gaze to you. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown only a little while he held such sorrow behind their deep amber. You brought your hand up, tracing the manicured beard up and cradling his cheek within your palm, “It’s you.”
His eyes widened, reality of the situation finally dawning on him. The pin had dropped, finding below it’s descent a balloon of latex and puncturing it beneath its small prick. As a balloon would deflate from its air and dart all around the room with no rhyme nor reason, Mihawk began to place the pieces of the evening together.
“But the Hanahaki-,” his words were halted within his throat as he continued to place them together, “-was broken with my offhand confession.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head to rid itself of his own assumed stupidity.
You smiled at him, continuing to hold his face within your palm and take in a visual map of the man you had come to adore. Dark hair tussled, lips swollen and tinted with the bruising shade of red, great-cloak disheveled and hanging loosely over his shoulders - his bare chest more so exposed to you. He was so beautiful.
“I hold such a deep admiration for you, my lord Mihawk,” you shook your head as you brought your other hand up to his forehead and brushed his hair from shielding his face, “it fell into something deeper along the way. As the disease indicates, it has swelled into love. I love you.”
He sighed, leaning first into your palm before placing his forehead against yours. You both felt waves of emotion falling from the two of you in this one moment, both pausing to feel the rise and fall of one another’s breaths and the heat reverbing from your bodies’ proximities. He allowed himself one final moment before he spoke his own confession.
“I loved you from the moment you first came to me,” he drew his hand from its position on the counter and placed it over the middle of your chest, “your spirit was so strong. At first, I wanted to break you as punishment for drawing such weakness from me. But then,” he withdrew his forehead from yours and replaced his prior position with his lips, “I saw you soar.”
Withdrawing his lips from your head, he held such deep devotion in his eyes as he relayed his final words to you, “and that is why I love you.”
“Because I’m a glutton for punishment?” you quipped at him, withdrawing your eyes from its connection to his and falling to the pooling red wine and shattered glass on the floor.
“No,” he chuckled at you, hooking his index finger below your chin and pulling your gaze to return to him, “it’s because, Fledgling, you are not a fledgling at all.” You knit your brows in confusion, knowing that he gives names to all of his apprentices. Zoro, the rabbit. Perona, the ghost. You, the fledgling.
“If I am no fledgling,” you whispered, “then what am I to you?” He smiled deeper, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he revealed a rare and intimate smile with you.
“You’re a Formel,” he whispered, “My Formel.” You laughed a breathy giggle at this new title, placing a small kiss against the whiskered chin below his lips.
“Does that make you my Tiercel, my lord?” you asked him after pulling away from his chin. He chuckled at you and offered you one final utterance.
“Only in private moments, Formel,” he cautioned you, “which I hope we are to share more of together.”
Mihawk broke away from your embrace and looked to the mess he’d made on the floor with the wineglass. As you were about to hop yourself down from your seated position against the marble countertop, a strong arm hooked its way beneath your knees while another steadied itself around your back. You squeaked in surprise as he lifted you up and began carrying you away from the mess to exit the kitchen. You looked at the puddle of wine and glass on the floor before turning back to your love carrying you. His expression was almost playful, with his signature flavor of arrogance cascading over his face and posture.
“I’ll have Zoro clean that up,” he grimaced, lips pulling up in a sneer, “a fitting punishment for kissing my Formel.”
“On your orders, sir,” you uttered in return. He hummed, leaning down to press a small kiss against your cheek as he continued walking you both away from the kitchen and into the halls.
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I have a couple of question-headcanons-idea thingies about Yves appearance if u don’t mind. So would Yves wear more gold or silver jewelry? Like I can’t decide whether he would have cool undertones or warm undertones. Cool undertones because of his sometimes very icy nature, steely stare and almost vampiric aspects of his nature. But also could be warm because of the motherly warmth and comfort he gives off, he reminds me of a hearth.
Also we gotta talk about how tall this man probably is like legit. Like you always describe him as tall and slender but it didn’t hit me until today that this man is probably a beanstalk. So like he was a model at one point which lets me know that he’s at the very least 6-6’3 naturally, now imagine the heels along with it, I dunno I personally think with heels he may be taller than Monty which adds to the intimidation factor.
Omg and his HAIRRR!! I always wondered what his natural hair texture is like whenever he doesn’t do blowouts. Like does he have naturally straight, wavy or even curly hair, I personally think he would have straight or slightly wavy naturally but I dunno, what r ur thoughts (if you have any, it’s okay to keep these things vague if u want)
(One day I will draw him Omg as u can see I have completely hyper fixated on him if I was reader I would be in his walls fr 😔)
Ou shid i am the opposite of minding, PLEASE DO SEND MOARR it also feeds my brain rot
anyways,
Yves only wears jewelry if it completes his look or it can aid him in manipulating people somehow.
When it comes to his outfits, he would wear silver if his clothes that day have cool undertones, and gold if it's warm and deep-toned. Yves could be your thermometer, if he knew that you're most likely to overheat that day, he would stick to cool neutrals. If it's chilly, he would don warm colors. Likewise with his choices in jewelry. Numerous other factors will determine his fashion, but the strongest influence is the weather and how he could use it to his advantage, making him much more appealing to you.
Yves's fingers are generally free of rings unless you and he were married. Then the wedding band will only leave his finger during certain situations such as performing surgery on you or cooking your meals. When he was younger, one of his favorite rings to wear was the brass knuckle. It would be a determining factor whether he beats his opponent into a bloody pulp, or he becomes one. As he grew older, he swapped that out with a quieter, secret compartment ring. A dash of whatever poison he decided to fill up that day does wonders without the mess and effort of throwing repeated punches. Perhaps you're particularly rowdy that day and wouldn't listen to reason, a little sedative would do the trick.
He does wear earrings though, mostly Diamond studded earrings because large or hanging ones would be more likely to snag on his hair and something else. He learned the existence of earlobe reattachment surgery through the hard way when he forgot to remove his hoops before a fight. But it doesn't mean he would never rock bolder styles, just rarely. During periods when he would wear his hair up, you would most likely see him wear pendant earrings that elongate the appearance of his elegant neck. Yves's extensive collection of jewelry he collected over the decade means you never see him wear the same set twice.
His height was kept vague because it would give me a lot of freedom to play with how he holds you. But just remember that he could carry you with one arm under your rear, on his hip, like a child. And to get to your eye level, he has to kneel. The height of his heels definitely depends on his goal and your personality, perhaps you're intimidated by his height. So he wears kitten pumps around you. However, to everyone else? Stilettos with red bottoms all the way.
Yves can wear flats or shoes, but why should he have to? He has worn heels for so long that it's actually much more comfortable to move in those torture devices. If you handed him a 20-inch lobster heel, Yves would walk or even run around in it as if he were wearing a pair of comfortable sneakers. His footwear must have at least a minimum of 2 inches on its heels.
If you pay close attention when he's barefoot, he's walking on his toes; he would be completely silent when moving around. But he's barely seen without some sort of footwear, even his home slippers have some height to it. This is mostly to alert you of his presence, so you won't have a heart attack whenever he greets you with a kiss on the back of your head.
His hair is implied to be naturally straight; he needed to sleep in silk curlers to look effortlessly gorgeous the next day. For the longest time, he hated his hair for not maintaining shape whenever he tried heat curling it. He wore extensions and wigs, and Yves tried shaving it all off to 'reset' his hair- that was one of the rougher patches in life he went through, he has experienced it all. Yves spent a good fortune on hairspray back then, he probably contributed greatly to the puncturing of the ozone layer. He wanted volume, he wanted structure, but he either didn't have the knowledge or the means to achieve that. Eventually, though, he learned through trial and error, through endless magazines and even research projects on how to care for his hair to look like his ideal. It's much thicker, healthier, and shinier than that of his past.
You wouldn't need to be in his walls, it's dusty there and you would get electrocuted with all the wiring in it. Yves wants you to come out so you would be in his lap, while he types away on his laptop. It's much more comfortable there, he wouldn't mind staying in the same position for hours and hours on end.
Just as long as you're fed, cleaned, using the toilet enough, and sleeping well. Yves will let you hyper-fixate on him as much as he hyperfixates on you.
But he knew that you wouldn't be able to even come close to his level of obsession towards you. And that's fine with him.
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woozisruby · 1 year
Text
intertwined
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pairing: non-idol!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader
word count: 4.0k~ (0.6kish of general build-up)
warnings: reader is shorter than mingyu, but it isnt specified how much shorter. some body insecurity on reader’s behalf and discussions of that. mentions of like... an implied d/s dynamic some nights. oral (f receiving), penetration/intercourse (protection used), fingering. body worship. a lil bit of manhandling. a liiil bit of mingyu begging. also mentions of marking and hickeys and bites. some mentions of oral (m receiving) in other situations, but not present in fic. no proofreading, intentional lowercase.
wz.txt: this has been sitting in my drafts since november. also im still bad at titles im sorry :(
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despite what a lot of people thought about you, you’re far from insecure.
maybe it’s kind of a trope based in reality. you're familiar with the idea of bigger women being insecure over their stomachs, the fat on their necks and arms, and so forth. you, on the other hand, had worked on yourself to the point where you were happy with yourself, fluff and all. that was what attracted mingyu to you: the fact that you were so unapologetically yourself, you lit up every room you were in and the man fell hard and fast. he’d introduced himself to you, given you his number, and asked you out right then and there. that had been a little over two years ago.
and maybe, because you’re aware that your boyfriend is tall and handsome enough to be a model, you’re a little prone to... insecure moments. usually, you’ll see him with women that are conventionally pretty (petite and thin, or curvy in the ‘right’ way--a sentiment that makes you roll your eyes, because you’re happy and healthy and therefore ‘curvy in the right’ way because there was no wrong way if a person’s happy with their body), and you’ll get in your own head a little. most of the time, it goes away once mingyu comes back to your side and sneaks a kiss from you. but tonight is different, and you can’t figure out why. the feeling seeps underneath your skin and starts to find a home there, and it stays as the two of you finally return home after a night out.
“i don’t know what you see in me,” you say without thinking as you make your way to the kitchen.
mingyu stands in the doorway as he removes his jacket, watching you open up the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. “what?”
you close the fridge and then look up at mingyu, about to uncap the bottle when you realize you spoke aloud. and with mingyu, you know he’s not going to let it go easily. “i dunno,” you shrug, twisting off the cap, “you’re tall. you’re hot. you’re also cute and gentlemanly--you could... y’know... do better.”
“i am,” he says, “i’m with you.”
you nearly choke on your water as the sentiment makes the heat rush to your face. “mingyu--”
“did someone say something?” he makes his way over to you, and you look up as he towers over you. “what happened?”
you shake your head, “no one said anything. i just...” you shrug, “i dunno. i kept looking at all the pretty girls who were partying. the one who flirted with you--”
“i told her i have a girlfriend,” he says immediately, “and she stopped.”
“right, but she’s still... y’know. smaller than me. you can do the whole ‘throw her over your shoulder’ before sex thing.”
mingyu pouts at that, “are you doubting me? i could pick you up.”
“you can’t throw me over your shoulder,” you say. “or see the outline of your dick inside me, or--”
mingyu reaches up, clasping his hand over your mouth before your anxiety can take hold and keep you rambling. “i don’t care about that kind of thing. i love you.”
he drops his hand a moment later, and you sigh. “i’m just saying. wouldn’t you like someone... smaller than this?” you gesture vaguely to your frame with the other hand, all fluff and softness compared to the flat stomachs you’d been fixating on too much earlier. completely flat stomachs are rare, you try to remind yourself, genetics play a factor.
mingyu shakes his head, watching you for a moment. you can practically see the gears turning, and you sigh as you cap your water bottle and start to make your way past him. yet his fingers curl around your wrist barely seconds later, turning you back to face him as he kisses you hard. 
“what if i prove it to you?” he says as he pulls back, leaving you breathless for a moment. “what if i show you how much i love you?”
and you pout. “gyu, i’m not doubting that you love me. i know you do.”
“then let me show you,” he says, and his hands are at your waist. he draws you in closer, pressing against you, “just how much i do.” he smiles, “okay?”
the thought is far to appealing to turn down. plus you know mingyu: if you need to back out, all you have to do is say the word. you lean in and kiss him, and he already knows what it means. as if to show off all the time he spends at the gym (often showing off a little to you while you do your own workout), mingyu hoists you up and onto the counter with ease as he kisses you hard.
“gyu—“ you gasp out between kisses, “don’t wanna—not here—“
he kisses you again, pressing into you just enough so that you know he’s starting to get very turned on. “i won’t,” he promises you. “i just had to show you i can pick you up.”
of course he did. his fingers press hard into your thighs as he stays slotted between your legs. he mumbles a question against your neck that you don’t fully catch—but knowing mingyu, you have a pretty good idea of what it is when you agree.
he bites down into the exposed flesh of your shoulder, and you moan as you curl your legs around his waist to keep him close to you. mingyu doesn’t always mark you up (you know for a fact that you enjoy it more than he does—and he honestly enjoys being marked up by you more than he enjoys marking you), but tonight is different. he knows what you like.
he pulls you down off the counter, guiding you to your shared bed with a gentle hand. when he turns around to look at you, you see a man in love…
only for him to roughly shove you down, towering over you with a confident smile. his hands slip underneath your dress, already rolling your underwear down your hips. he’s teasing you as he slowly pulls the pair off of you, glancing down to realize you’d worn his favorite pair. he liked the look of lace on you, even if this wasn’t your laciest pair.
“cute.” he smiles to himself for a moment, and he plants a gentle kiss against your lips. he plants another, and then another before trailing them down your jaw.
it almost makes you laugh as his fingers graze the sensitive parts of you. this man knows exactly where you’re ticklish. “gyu,” you whine as he squeezes your hips, peppering kisses down your neck and shoulder. “i thought we were gonna fuck.”
“so impatient,” he jokingly chastises you. “i told you... i want to show you just how much i love you.” he finally goes for the zipper on the back of your dress with a soft “may i?” before he tugs it down when you nod. “you always look so pretty in everything,” he hums, fabric going slack around your body. “but i like you like this, too.”
he guides your dress down your body and off, tossing it aside as he takes in the sight of your plump frame. he always has this starry-eyed look that he reserves just for you, just for nights like these where he wants to take his time loving you. not that you don’t get glimpses of your soft boyfriend when he makes you beg for him (or in the times where you have him begging, his skin always littered with bites and hickeys to show off that he’s yours), of course--mingyu is a man in love and he couldn’t fight those looks if he tried. but this? the way he’s already eating you up with his eyes?
well. you definitely aren’t complaining over that.
his lips meet yours again as he presses himself against you, just so you could feel how hard he already was. “i love you,” he mumbles, leaning back as he undoes his belt quickly. he’s off of you for only a moment to kick off his pants, leaving him in his boxers and his shirt. “i love this,” he squeezes your hips gently again. “you’re always so soft--don’t you know how much i love that?”
“you don’t think i’m too heavy?”
“baby...”
he doesn’t even have to say anything else: you know mingyu well enough. “don’t answer that,” you say aloud. yet when mingyu, a second later, kisses your stomach gently, almost as if he’s trying to distract you from the fingers slipping between your folds. you let out a whine. “mingyuuu...”
“i love you,” mingyu says, his fingers gliding through your slick with ease. he finds your clit and already begins to slowly rub you the way he knows gets you off the fastest--just to tease you a little more. “you’re so soft and pretty... but you’re not underneath all of this, hm?”
oh. oh. mingyu, love of your life, knows your fantasies. “gyu--”
he chuckles, thoroughly amused with the position the two of you are in. “ah... i wonder what other people would think if they knew how much you love taking charge of me.” his fingers are tantalizingly slow, and you push against his hand to try and get him to do something more. “or how much you like this, too,” he smiles at you. “you always sound so pretty when you beg, baby.”
you whimper. “mingyu,” you draw out his name.
“hm?” he chuckles. “ah. this is supposed to be your night,” he says wistfully, before he gives you a gentle kiss on the lips. he moves back away from you with a cheeky smile, “i’ll tease you another night, then.” his fingers speed up only a little, stopping just long enough for him to plant himself between your thighs. his dark eyes meet yours as he waits, still rubbing your clit. “honey? can i taste you? please?”
oh. oh. he’ll beg for you if you let him. the thought sends fire through your veins, and you nod. “yes.”
“thank you,” he mumbles against your thigh. and then he dives in, tongue tracing your entrance as his fingers finally speed up. it earns a moan from you (although whether it’s coming more from pleasure or relief that he’s done teasing you, you can’t be completely sure).
mingyu changes things up almost immediately, knowing exactly how to get you off the fastest. he kisses around your clit gently at first, slipping a finger into you. only after you hum his name does he finally suck on your clit, and you swear you can feel him smiling cheekily at the sound of your voice. your fingers tangle into his hair, tightening only slightly as he sucks a little harder. he adds a finger into you, thrusting faster now. without thinking, you tighten your grip on his hair. ever since mingyu confessed to you that he's always liked it when you do this (always while he’s eating you out), especially the moments where you’re pushing his head rather than pulling his hair, you’ve found yourself doing it.
(mingyu thinks its your way of having a semblance of control, even in situations where you’re supposed to be giving in to his commands. he doesn’t stop you, though: there’s a little thrill in remembering that he’s yours, and underneath it all he knows that it’s another way for you to stop him if you need. truly, if he didn’t like it, he would bring up handcuffs just to see your pretty flustered face.)
you’re barely thinking when you push mingyu’s face further between your legs with a moan, his name slipping past your lips in broken syllables. the way he licks and sucks on your clit, the hard and fast way he’s fucking his fingers into you: he knows you. he knows your body too well. he can hear the way you pant, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge. your thighs shake and mingyu curls his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you cry out louder as he makes you come harder than you normally do.
he helps you ride out your orgasm, drawing back off of you while he continues to thrust his fingers into you slowly.
“that’s my pretty baby...” he sighs happily. he notices the way you paw through the air with one hand, and he slides his own into it with ease. mingyu smiles when you intertwine fingers with him.
you, the same woman who makes him almost cry while begging for you some nights, the same person who also blindfolds and handcuffs him happily... have the habit of wanting to hold his hand during sex. how cute. he always indulges you in that, no matter the scene. it’s cute to watch you reaching out for his hand, after all, but cuter to see how happy you get when he actually holds it.
mingyu’s careful when he kisses your clit again, gentle enough to make sure the shocks of overstimulation doesn’t hurt you (and if it ever does, he’ll always back off when you cry out--he’ll only ever continue when you ask him to). yet he can feel his cock twitching in his boxers, the need to be inside you growing stronger. he plants another kiss on your thigh.
“i mean it, you know,” he says, “you’re so gorgeous.”
your eyes meet his own, “mingyu--”
“i don’t just say that because i love you. i wish you could see the way you make others happy,” he squeezes your hand. “did you know that? do you remember the time seungkwan hurt his ankle,” he leans back, looking at you, “and you showed up with a ‘get well soon’ bear holding the little orange plushie that you made for him... he cried after you left and told me if i ever messed things up, he’d kick my ass himself.”
you laugh at that. you’ve only met seungkwan a few times, and you’d only brought him that bear early in your relationship, but that statement sounds like him from what mingyu’s friends have told you.
“don’t laugh! he could do it!” mingyu says, although he’s laughing, too. he told you once that he was the only one who could hold seungkwan back when he was angry. “i mean it,” he says. “everyone sees you as a beautiful person because you are one. i think i’m lucky,” he smiles, planting a kiss against your thigh again.
you reach your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes. ��mingyu...”
“and you’re mine,” he says, no dark tone behind it. “thank you for being mine.”
sappy mingyu is always so saccharine in your opinion. as much as other people like to comment on how handsome and chivalrous your boyfriend is, they’d probably never believe just how sickly sweet he can be when he wants to be.
“i think,” he says, fingers tracing your entrance again, “we fit together perfectly, too.”
“mingyu--”
“can i fuck you?” he says, and you swear you have whiplash. seconds ago he’s thanking you for being his, and now he’s still using that same damn tone to ask to fuck you. “please? i need you,” he pulls his fingers away from your folds for a moment. “honey... you always feel so good, too.”
as empty as you feel... you know how big mingyu is. “i need you to prep me for your cock, baby. can you do that?”
his eyes light up and he smiles at you, “yes, ma’am.”
the title admittedly has an effect on you, and when you nod for him to go ahead, mingyu slowly sinks two fingers back into you. he slowly thrusts them into you at first, soon to add a third.
“you’re so pretty,” he hums. “and you always take my fingers so well...”
you clench around them, and whimper. even with three of his fingers inside you, you still feel empty. not full enough, perhaps would be better. but he’s careful in prepping you to take him, coaxing you onward with gentle words while still holding your hand as he fingers you.
“gyu,” you whine, finally noticing that he’s still dressed. you bristle a little, a sudden chill running down your spine. “take it off.”
he’s clueless for a moment before he notices his half-unbuttoned shirt. he pulls his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth instead to taste you with a moan. the sight makes you whimper, and you watch as he tauntingly undoes button after button before tossing his shirt off elsewhere in the room. without a word, mingyu motions for you to sit up, undoing the clasp on your bra. when you breathe a sigh of relief, he chuckles.
“sorry, honey,” he says, “i should have taken it off sooner.”
“well,” you’re happy to tease him, “you do love my ass more--”
he laughs before kissing you, hands resting at your hips. “i like your chest, too, you know.”
“then mark me.”
mingyu isn’t one to turn down an order, especially one like that. even though you prefer doing it to him, there’s a thrill in going about your lives the day after and knowing that you’re hiding bruises and bites from the world. that he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. he kisses your neck gently, eyes falling toward your shoulder, and you can feel him smile against your skin. you turn your head to see the bite he’s left on you earlier, and it nearly makes you roll your eyes.
maybe mingyu does prefer being the one marked up... but god if he isn’t a liar sometimes about not enjoying seeing you the same way.
he earns a moan from you as he begins to bites a spot on your breast, and your head falls back in bliss at the feeling. being marked was a rare treat for you, after all, and it was always heaven when mingyu indulged you in it... always because he’d be so greedy. every bite and kiss and suck at your skin would make you moan louder and louder, and he’d always leave a series of bruises behind in his wake.
he draws back to admire his work, and his cock twitches at the sight of you. he speaks before he thinks, “do you think you’re ready for me? i want you...” he squeezes your skin, voice lowering a little more, “i need you.”
“then tell me what you want,” you find your voice. curse those pretty brown eyes: they always make you a little weak, especially when he’s looking at you like that, all needy and ready. “you can do that for me, can’t you?”
“i want to fuck you,” he says outright, opting to be more vulgar. more direct, too, in your opinion. “i need to feel your cunt around me.”
oh. mingyu smiles when he sees the look on your face, completely flustered at just how direct he’s decided to be tonight. you pull yourself together, reaching up to cup his face. you draw him in, kissing him gently before mumbling a “then fuck me” against his lips.
he reaches into his bedside table, already searching for a condom as he kisses you again. he stops long enough to tear it open with his teeth--always careful enough to not damage it. mingyu is quick to remove his boxers, kicking them off the bed before he slides the condom down his length. with one quick look at you (and your quick nod to tell him to go ahead), he pushes into your with a blissful sigh. mingyu fills you perfectly, and you feel content with him inside you. maybe that’s what he meant when he said you two fit together perfectly. like two pieces of a puzzle in more ways than one.
you wrap your arms around his neck, adjusting to the feeling of him inside of you. “mingyu... can you move?”
with a quick peck against your lips, he obliges, always slow to begin with--just in case. the roll of his hips is always a little teasing, too: mingyu knows that it’s only going to frustrate you a little because you need more from him. when you whimper his name, he kisses you again, his pace increasing as he mumbles countless “i love you”s against your lips like a prayer. he drops a hand between your thighs, fingers rubbing your clit again as he fucks into you harder. his other hand is in yours, though, fingers tightly intertwined with his body pressing against your own.
this, you think, is what being loved feels like. the way mingyu’s palm is tightly against yours, your kisses growing sloppier, his fingers edging you closer and closer to a release... something about the way he looks at you says “i love you” louder than words.
“come for me,” he mumbles against your skin, a quiet mantra of “please” tumbling past his lips. you know mingyu on nights like these when he’s begs for you. he’s not going to come until you do--at least once. you jokingly called it torture once, and he told you it was care. after all... he didn’t think he’d be happy if you didn’t come (that was why, even if you only sucked him off, he’d always return the favor as soon as he could: it isn’t fair in his eyes if he’s the only one who comes, whether that be the same day or the next morning when he woke you up). his fingers rub your clit hard and fast as he fucks into you hard, and you can feel his smile against your skin as you moan louder. you come undone around him, and almost as if taunting you, he chuckles against your neck.
“that’s my baby,” he mumbles, pace slowing and fingers leaving your clit as you spasm around him. his fingers ghost over your clit, already a little greedy, “honey? one more for me?”
“gyu--”
“please, jagi? for me?” his fingers are gentle against your clit, and it makes you realize just how sensitive you are. “just one more.”
you nod eagerly, and feel him kiss your neck before he thrusts into you again--almost as hard as before, and you realize he’s restraining himself to keep from hurting you. “it’s okay,” you say, head falling back, “you can--” you pause to whimper as his fingers rub your clit again, “fuck--you can fuck me, baby. wanna--wanna feel you come, too.”
it chips away at the self-control mingyu has, and you know it. his hips snap hard against your own, and you guide his face back to your own as you kiss him again. he groans against your lips, fingers rubbing hard and fast against your clit as he pushes you toward another orgasm. you whimper, writhing underneath him at the overstimulation. despite it all, you try to clench around him, and he groans louder at the feeling. you come around him for the third time tonight, and mingyu roughly grabs your hip as his movements begin to stutter. he grunts when he finds his own release, hot breath fanning your skin as he buries his face in your neck. his fingers are digging hard into your hip, but soon enough his grip goes lax as he collapses onto you, all while still holding your hand tightly within his own.
“love you,” he mumbles over and over against your neck for a moment, lost in that mantra as he peppers tiny kisses. exhaustion sets into his features already, and you know mingyu will fall asleep right there if you let him.
your legs feel like jelly, but nevertheless you nudge him awake. “gyu,” you mumble. “gotta clean up.”
“in a minute,” he punctuates the thought with another kiss to your neck. “i love you.”
with a blissful sigh, you hold him closer to you. “yeah,” you brush his hair out of his face. “i know. i love you, too.”
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writerfae · 3 months
Note
Hi! I am kinda having a writing problem and I want to ask if you can give me some advice. (It's okay if you can't!)
From the beginning Adél has been a character that I struggled with alot (perhaps directly because she's my protagonist, though there could be other factors).
I feel like she serves her purpose in the "book" part of the story well, but I am unable to put her in a situation outside of that, and I don't know how to fix it!
I just wanna be able to get excited about her! Because I like Adél, I really do, but sometimes I get stuck when I try to think about her and it makes me really sad!
Perhaps the best way I can describe the problem is that I am being too "strict" with her. I let the other characters kinda run around and do their thing, but I really struggle to do that with Adél. Like I don't know how to let her out of the initial box that I had for her.
Idk if you noticed it or not, but even when sending you crossover scenarios I talk  more about her brothers than her (or if not that, than the scenarios for her brothers are a lot easier to come up with for me). This is what I mean when I say I don't know how to put her in situations outside of the planned book.
The worst part of this all is that in canon Adél's worst fear is that one day all her fears and anxiety will grow so large that she won't be able to do anything, not even move, and I am litteraly making her unable to move in the situations that I come up with! I am unintentionally making her worst fear happen when I try brainstorming for her, and it's not in the good way!
I know how much you love Aiden and since he's your protagonist maybe you have some advice on how I can let Adél be a little freer? How to play around with her more?
Thank you in advance!
Also, I really hope this explanation made at least a little sense💀
It made lots of sense to me! I understand your problem and it’s pretty valid. I felt pretty much the same.
Because while yes, I love Aiden and I have him quite developed now, I had a really hard time shaping him. For the longest time he seemed flat to me, without much of a personality.
I think the problem with main protagonists is that sometimes we as writer focus so much on their task of holding up the story that we forget that they are a person, too, not story tools.
They have hobbies and feelings and plans and dreams outside of the story. Not everything about this character has to serve the progress of the plot. It can be hard to remember that.
To struggle with a character, a main character especially, is pretty normal. They need lots of time and care and constant work.
I think you might really be a bit too “strict” with her. Let her run wild once in a while, play around with her a little bit. A character needs to be removed from their story from time to time so that they can grow. I know it’s hard, but like you said, you have to get her out of the box.
Maybe you have a harder time to get Adél out of there because she as a character is really anxious and might not want to leave her box (which means she’s already a pretty much alive character with her “own will”, which is good!), so you have to nudge her a little bit.
Honestly the best way you can do that is with AUs. I know it sounds silly, but as someone with tons of AUs, let me tell you: never before did I learn as much about my characters as in AUs.
(A lot of oc development happened outside of my main story and in AUs. They made me grow more attached to my characters too, I feel like I got closer to them.)
Because those do exactly what I said earlier, they remove the character from their story and that’s pretty helpful.
The modern au helped me especially, because it confronted me with an important question, one you should ask yourself (if you haven’t already):
If Adél wasn’t the protagonist of your story, if she wasn’t even in your story’s setting but just a completely normal teenage girl, how would she be like? What would be her hobbies? Her passions? Her goals in life?
For example, I didn’t know a single hobby of Aiden beside archery before I had my modern AU, cause in-story Aiden doesn’t have time for hobbies all that much. What doesn’t mean he has none. But I only got ideas through the au.
I had to translate them to the old time / fantasy world a bit. Modern AU Aiden is a film geek, so canon Aiden has a love for stories, but not for written ones but told/performed ones.
Or alternatively, how about an AU where Adél isn’t the main protagonist? Think about how her life would be as a minor character or bystander. What would be different about her? Would something be different? Even realizing that she’d still be the same brings you closer to understand her.
I don’t mean that you should make up big and complicated AUs, just that you give some alternate scenarios (and how they would influence Adél) a thought.
Basically, just play dolls and dress up with her. Have some fun. Try to distance her from the story a bit. Because maybe the plot of your story blocks certain aspects of her that can only be unlocked by putting her somewhere else.
AUs are fun and help build the character. Plus if you keep changing the setting you can see what really makes a character themselves, which traits and such move with them from au to au and which don’t.
Something else that might help is do an interview with Adél in your head. Or on paper. Just ask her questions about herself. Or well, ask questions and think about what her answer would be.
Get to know her. Start small.
Little facts like her favorite food or color or animal or her favorite plushie as a kid or anything, really, can make her easier for you to grasp. (Maybe you already know those things, but if not they are worthy to consider).
Or you can get questions from character sheets or get to know me templates. Or more complex questions like “how would Adél react if [insert thing here]?” or “what would she take with her to a deserted island?”.
(Or yet again a different thing to ask yourself: what will Adél do after the story? Or, regarding your worries about her anxiety, work with that, too. Why does she fear what she fears? Since when? What if this fear actually comes true? What would she be like without that fear?)
What might also help is if you let her interact with the others more, let them drag her into their own “outside the story” adventures.
Like I said in that one post I made, Aiden only ever really talks to me if other characters are around. Maybe Adél needs a little help getting dragged out of the box. Next time you imagine a scenario for let’s say one of her brothers, let her join.
Letting characters react is sometimes easier than making them do something on their own.
And most importantly, take your time and don’t be too hard on yourself. You can’t fully know Adél yet. That’s completely okay. (I don’t know Aiden fully yet either). Tale your time figuring her out.
You will keep learning things about her as the story develops and progresses. She will grow along with it, trust me. If you adore her, that’s already enough. The rest will come to you eventually (maybe this answer helps you with it).
I’m really not good at giving writing advice, but I hope that what I said makes at least a little sense I was able to help you :)
And good luck with Adél! She’s lovely and I’m sure you’ll get to understand her better and help her grow!! ^^
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veliseraptor · 2 years
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mmkay been struggling with feeling like my writing tanks are empty but sometimes this helps. if nothing else maybe it’ll help me fuckin’...finish something, eh
so it’s a 150 words meme! send me up to 3 numbers from the following list and I’ll write 150 words in that project. twelve fics and some stuff in here is even not yi city centric if you can believe it
1. “I’m gonna be gone,” Xue Yang said, “for a little while.” 
He was sprawled across Xiao Xingchen’s lap, shirt rucked up in a decidedly distracting way. What he said, though, jarred Xiao Xingchen’s thoughts away from thinking about that kissable strip of skin, and not very pleasantly. 
“What?” 
Xue Yang’s nose wrinkled. “I have to go out of town. Work stuff. This one client, stupid rich…he wants to meet me in person, apparently. He’s got some big job and…” He shrugged one shoulder. Xiao Xingchen’s stomach squirmed. 
“Is that…unusual?” 
“Yeah, sort of,” Xue Yang said. “I mean, I’ve done shit for this guy before, but I guess he didn’t care about the personal factor or whatever it is. Or maybe it’s something illegal and he doesn’t want a digital trail.” Xiao Xingchen’s eyes widened and Xue Yang laughed. “You’re so easy. It’s fine, Xingchen. I promise if he tries to lock me in his sex dungeon I’ll run for the hills.” (Redux)
2. You summoned the other corpses. 
“Just one isn’t very threatening,” Xue Yang said. “All weak, and I didn’t tell them to kill anyone–” 
You lied. You said there were no puppets left. 
“There weren’t,” Xue Yang said. “I made new ones.” 
It’s disrespectful, Song Lan snapped, frustrated. You’re desecrating the remains of innocent people–
“Yeah, yeah, it’s an abomination, if you’re looking for an excuse to finish what you started then stop talking and just fucking do it,” Xue Yang snarled, his muscles bunching tighter. “I could do anything and you’d find something wrong with it even when it’s helping you–” 
You aren’t helping me. Just yourself.
Xue Yang’s mouth set. To Song Lan’s surprise he didn’t immediately snap back, eyes suddenly gone flat black. “Yeah,” he said after a couple moments, his voice darker and uglier. “Right. So are you going to kill me or just keep telling me everything I did wrong this time?” (Walking Far From Home)
3. “Accept Christ,” Lymond said, “and my deformities shall disappear. Deny him, and I am cast out of the body public. Is that it?” 
Gabriel knelt, beginning to remove the dressings. “You cast out yourself,” he said mildly. “If you refer to your convalescence…I am given to understand it is exhaustion and overwork that brought on your collapse. You drive yourself hard, my dear.” 
“I do what I must,” said Lymond. “Should I let my opponent set the pace, instead?” 
“Your opponent,” Gabriel said, setting the soiled bandages aside. Lymond made no move to pull away, head turned just slightly to retain view of him as he examined the wound, livid and angry. “Your metaphors are all of war.” He paused, leveling a clear gaze at Lymond. “Is it any surprise there should be casualties, when such is your approach?” 
“You made it so,” Lymond said, suddenly blunt. Gabriel’s expression changed not at all. (et ipsi sunt jacula)
4. He slid his fingers into my hair then and pulled my head back until my neck hurt and then said, “do you know what I am going to do to you now, darling?”
I swallowed and shook my head. 
“It is an old piece of magic,” Malkar said, and his voice was like velvet, but velvet with a knife under it or something, and I’d’ve sworn I could feel it all the way down in my bones. “It is called the obligation d’sang. Do you know what that means?”
I shook my head again. 
“It is also known as the binding-by-blood,” Malkar said, still in that voice, and he let me go and stood up. “You are my student now, Felix. Do you know what that makes me?” 
“My master,” I whispered.
“Yes,” he said, and I could hear him smiling. Then he let go of my hair and moved away. I lay still and took shallow breaths and shivered, my heart pounding in my stomach.
Malkar knelt straddling me and I arched up against him without thinking but he shoved me back down, pinning me flat. “Hold still, darling,” he said. “This is delicate work. Don’t make me start over.” 
Then he cut into me, and I put together that binding-by-blood meant mine, and all at once remembered a hundred horrible stories about blood-witches like Vey Coruscant. “Wait,” I said, but he ignored me, and then the magic took hold and I couldn’t say anything at all. (Pygmalion)
5. After a moment Xue Yang added, “what if you could bring them back? Like Wei-qianbei did with his Ghost General. Did you ever think about trying?” 
“No,” Jiang Yanli said. “Never.”
Xue Yang made a sort of ‘huh’ noise. “Would you want to?” 
“It wouldn’t work,” was, awfully, the first thing Jiang Yanli said. “A-Cheng and Zixuan both had Soul-Calming Ceremonies.” And a-Xian…there had been, she knew, official attempts to summon his ghost in order to destroy it for good, with no result. “And…it would be wrong, besides.” 
Xue Yang made a dismissive sort of noise. “Right, wrong, what does it matter?” he said. “It’s not like it makes a difference. It’s not like people are going around rewarding the righteous and punishing the wicked. So why not do what you want if you can get away with it?” 
“It’s not what I want,” Jiang Yanli said, even if it wasn’t entirely true. Of course a part of her wanted it. Of course a part of her wished…
But she knew it wouldn’t be the same.
“Huh,” Xue Yang said. “Well, if you ever change your mind…I’d be up for trying again.” With that, apparently ignorant of how it made Jiag Yanli’s stomach jump and twist, Xue Yang rolled up to his feet and stretched. “Okay,” he said. “I should probably go, I guess. But I’ll see you later, right?” and just like that, he was gone.
She dreamed about it that night. Dreamed that she stood at Lotus Pier, looking out at the water, and she could feel her brothers at her sides – a-Xian on the left and a-Cheng on the right. But she didn’t want to turn her head and look. A-Xian took her hand with skeletal fingers, bone worn smooth. 
Welcome home, shijie, he said, in a voice like a terrible cold wind. But she wasn’t afraid. (this world is gonna break your heart)
6. “Does Wei Wuxian know?” Jin Ling asked quietly after a couple moments of silence. Jiang Cheng set the letter aside.
“About this specifically? No. I imagine he’s well aware of the fact that he still has enemies.” 
“Maybe,” Jin Ling said slowly, “you should mention it to him?”
Jiang Cheng managed to keep himself from giving his nephew an incredulous stare, not sure whether to start with that would require us speaking to each other or you want me to make the first thing I say to Wei Wuxian after eight months of silence to be ‘someone is writing me letters to convince me to kill you’? and not really inclined to say either aloud. Even less inclined to try to express how it felt to wonder, with an unpleasant twist, if Wei Wuxian would take it as a warning or a threat.  (through thistles and thorns)
7. “Where?” He asked the Seeker wearily. There was no point in refusing her; Seekers got what they wanted, and Cullen suspected this woman more than most. 
“The Gallows,” she said, turning toward the door, clearly with the expectation that he would follow. Cullen stood, and did. 
“Did I get your name?” He asked as they walked into the street. 
“Cassandra Pentaghast,” she said, her eyes straight ahead. Cullen couldn’t help turning to stare at her. 
“The Dragonslayer?” 
Oddly, she didn’t seem pleased. “I have been called that, yes.” 
He couldn’t decide if it was a good sign or a bad one that the Seekers had sent the Dragonslayer herself to talk to him. Considering the trend of his life so far, probably a bad one. But that was rank self-pity, and he shouldn’t indulge in it. (Salvage)
8. “I don’t usually do this,” Xiao Xingchen said breathlessly. Xue Yang pushed his hips up, squeezing the tops of his thighs where he was straddling him.
“Do what,” he said. “Go home with strange boys you meet in bars?” 
He meant it as a joke, but Xiao Xingchen looked serious when he nodded. “Not really,” he said. “But you’re…” He reached out, fingers brushing Xue Yang’s cheek with sudden and startling gentleness. “There’s something about you.”
Xue Yang stared at him, knocked off kilter by how fast Xiao Xingchen had veered off script. (spin me right round)
9. “Hello, Chengmei,” he said, calm and even. It was always better to at least act calm, dealing with Xue Yang. He treated fear like a wolf scenting blood. “How are you feeling?” 
Xue Yang let out a series of huffs that might have been laughter. “What’s it look like,” he said. “Should’ve…should’ve killed me better the first time, a-Yao. Wouldn’t be causing you trouble now then.” 
“As necessary as it was at the time, I’m not unhappy to see you’re alive,” Jin Guangyao said, which brought back the expression of consternation. He knelt down and held out one hand. “Let me feel your pulse. Do you know what’s happening?” 
“Yeah,” said Xue Yang, after a pause in which Jin Guangyao thought he was considering lying. There was sweat beading visibly on his forehead, his expression tight with pain. Jin Guangyao had seen him shake off open, bleeding wounds as insignificant. Either that had always been pretense or what he was feeling now was worse. 
“If you tell me, I will be better able to help you,” Jin Guangyao said, when Xue Yang didn’t elaborate. “As it is…” 
“I’m fine,” Xue Yang interrupted. “I’m fine, everything’s fine, I didn’t mean to – I wasn’t supposed to–” Of all things, he glared over at Song Zichen.
“Of course,” Jin Guangyao said soothingly. “I know. When did Song Zichen-daozhang die?” 
Xue Yang’s expression did something strange again, somehow furtive and miserable at once. “A while. Doesn’t matter.” 
It very clearly did matter, but Jin Guangyao wasn’t going to push. Not on that, anyway. “Did you kill him?” 
“No,” Xue Yang said. “I mean. Sort of. I would’ve. But I didn’t. Not exactly.”
That clarified exactly nothing and raised a great many more questions. (these are our times (the end times))
10. There were the things about Jinlintai that Xue Yang expected to appreciate (good food, warm bed, consistent supply of sweets), and the annoying things that he might’ve predicted if he’d thought about them (the people, mostly). 
Then there was the shit that came as a surprise, like the performances that got put on sometimes. Plays of stories he sometimes knew and sometimes didn’t, some better and some worse and some just stupid as all fuck. 
“Was that supposed to be Liu Qiuyue?” Xue Yang asked Jin Guangyao, who paused, pulling his brush away from the letter he was writing, and looked at him. Xue Yang waved a hand. “Last night. The story. That’s what it was, right?” 
“I believe so,” Jin Guangyao said after another moment, setting the brush down. Xue Yang smothered a smile of triumph at the indication that he had his attention. “Why do you ask?” 
“Cause it was different than the version I’d heard,” Xue Yang said. “The story I knew she wasted away cause she wouldn’t eat after Prince what’s-his-name turned her down. But this one had her…” He wrinkled his nose. “Puking petals, or something. Unless that was supposed to be symbolic.” (xuexiao hanahaki au)
11. “I,” Anders said, “was thinking about the Hanged Man. I’d pay a lot of money right now for their piss-flavored beer. And that soup–”
Fenris raised his eyebrows. “The one with the chunks of unidentified meat in it?”
“Yeah, that one,” Anders said with a bit of a laugh. “I heard Merrill ask what was in it once and the barkeeper wouldn’t say. Hawke said one time she found a rat skull in her bowl but I’m pretty sure she was making it up.” 
An unwilling smile tugged at the corner of Fenris’s mouth. “Better than anything you’d find in Darktown.”
“Oh, well,” Anders said. “At least there they’d just give you the whole rat on a skewer. You knew what you were getting into.” 
Fenris’s laugh startled him. Anders grinned, looking pleased with himself, as wet and bedraggled as he was. It had been a while since the last time he’d laughed, Fenris realized. Probably since he’d left Hawke. 
That killed his laughter and he looked away from that grin, suddenly annoyed by its smugness. (the best all lack conviction)
12. The next morning Song Lan wasn’t certain he hadn’t dreamed the whole thing. But he wasn’t certain he hadn’t, either. It shouldn’t be possible - he’d been deliberately thorough disposing of Xue Yang’s corpse, and made heavy use of suppression arrays. There had been a part of him that thought let him lie like a dead dog in the street for his body to be desecrated as he did to so many but almost immediately he’d been ashamed, and the pragmatic part of him knew it was too great a risk. 
And some dim part of him, too, looked at Xue Yang’s empty eyes fixed on a piece of candy in one limp hand and felt a miserable sort of pity. Bitter and unwanted, but it lingered nonetheless. 
But the memory was so very clear. Xue Yang’s voice, precisely as he remembered it. The black feeling that had been plaguing him lately.
If anyone could somehow cling to the world of the living in spite of everything that said it should be impossible, it would be Xue Yang. (the poison in your bones)
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knyplotrewrite · 2 years
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Why Uzui Tengen (Rewritten) has a twin sister
(and other aspects of his character that I added or otherwise removed! This is just me putting out my own thoughts while writing Tengen)
Honestly, when I first started this, I didn’t really understand what made Tengen so compelling to viewers. Even in the first iterations of this rewrite I just didn’t care about him much if at all. Maybe it was his personality being so different from the other Pillars? Maybe it was all the weird questionable shit that Gotouge added in when it would’ve been better to just not have it at all? Maybe his inner conflict in his own arc doesn’t feel as fleshed out as other characters? A combination of all three?
I really took the time to examine his canon characteristics, decided most of it was bullshit or ill fitting, and essentially gave him the Rewrite Zenitsu treatment where he’s more a decent person than comedic relief (I really should talk about Zenitsu, huh?). Basically everything that is revealed about his character in Rewrite RLD contributes to some aspect of his deeper motives and philosophies, from him obsessing and being very defensive over his looks to joking about his tits, all of it.
Then there is his twin sister who I created for a multitude of reasons. I always felt like his tragedy regarding his past as a shinobi was rather flat and uninteresting, and his narrative connection to Gyutaro and Daki doesn’t even exist. Tenten kills two birds with one stone, with the addition of also offering a motivation for Tengen to become a Demon Slayer. Honestly one of my best literary decisions.
Tenten as a character is openly brash and rebellious, always one to challenge the status quo and the traditions that their family see as law. If it weren’t for her, Tengen easily could have just been another selfish ninja succumbing to the harsh and sexist practices of his clan. She is practically instrumental to his current worldview and his more obvious motivation in leaving the clan for good. Yes, Tengen already breaks so many societal ideas and norms in more ways than one, but she’s a factor in many of them.
Like makeup.
Tengen’s relationship with makeup and his appearance in general has always been a major source of internal conflict. Makeup is typically associated with femininity (no duh), and his identity as a trans man, even when he didn’t realize he was trans yet, very much conflicted with those ideas. But, when Tenten and him actively started to present themselves more flamboyantly as a “fuck you” to their clan’s traditional principles, he began rethinking his relationship to makeup as not a way to enforce femininity but a tool for self-expression. I find it quite significant that he wore the same flashy style of eyeliner, eyeshadow, and lipstick in the present day, almost as a nostalgic callback to his first journey into gender nonconformity with his sister.
It’s more than just makeup; its a major part of who he is. Really recontextualizes those scenes where Gyutaro and Tengen’s parents either tell him he would look better without it or pester him in cleaning it off respectively, don’t you think? (I’m sure Gyutaro didn’t mean to offend him since he’s got his own complicated relationship with his appearance, that’ll be for another post though.)
He became comfortable and proud of his own identity because of Tenten, so its really no wonder why hes so obsessed in trying to find her again. It’s not just the promise of them being “those permanently single white haired bitches.” It’s SO much more.
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englishstrawbie · 2 years
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Hi,
Do you think this is the final S19 writers had planned for?
It feels flat, not letting you wonder for much, a bit anticlimactic.
Also I think Jack is totally gonna come back for Marina baby in case the writers keep up with this bs storyline, hopefully not, but I do not trust them.
At the end all the storyline this seasos no matter the character, were done in a way to elevate the men and show them as heroes and saviors of women one way or another.
Jack exit doesn’t make much sense (even if I’m happy for Marina reasons) I wanted something different for him, but it’s interesting that even in this situation he comes up as the misunderstood hero, and get the pity of all the women that keep wanting to give him things he doesn’t not deserve.
Maya ended up sounding a bit like an ahole, in terms of the Sullivan situation, Bit was about time she spoke up, I wish it was more about ppl fighting against sexism and homophobia all together with some sense of justice instead of being the Gia kind of narrative, they really wanna put Maya in the wrong even when she’s totally right, it seems the same writers that lust over Jack are the same that dislike Maya…I wonder why???
So basically at the end the writers made Jack come off as the hero and Maya the work obsessed obnoxious lesbian that threaten her coworkers to get what she actually deserves…ok
I like how as soon as you remove “the man factor” from the wlw relationship, the character go back to be the real self, even if the Green Card part is not accurate it was still nice a part for a couple of takes that makes Maya look like an insensitive ahole like the sex trafficking thing (someone didn’t read the notes about Andrea on the big writers board lol)
I don’t care about Andy and it’s a mystery how it’s gonna work out cause all the bts drama.
Maybe have both Maya and Andy Captain but for different shift and never let them cross paths again just saying hi when there’s a change of shift…. I don’t see how they could pull it off otherwise.
Overall a terrible season under many aspect, let’s hope that hey will make some change for the next….
I think the finale was written this way on purpose - but what that purpose actually was, who knows! I am constantly confused about what it is that the writers have been trying to achieve with some of their storylines and arcs this year. Anticlimatic is a good way to describe it.
Maya and Carina's whole arc this year has been about having a baby, and then suddenly, with two episodes left, they throw in the green card interview. The timing was silly, when there are still so many issues around the baby storyline that are unresolved - and then to tease us with taking a pregnancy test and then... not. Why?
I have so many questions about Jack driving off - in the middle of a shift, no less. I want him gone, because I want peace around the baby storyline next year, but if Grey was leaving, wouldn't the cast have wished him well? So maybe he will be back next year but doing what? When there's (apparently) no space for him as lieutenant if the only reason Andy got a job at 19 was because he was leaving. And, as so many people have pointed out, we'll now have 4 lieutenants at 19 when back in season 2, it was an issue having 3. #makeitmakesense Unless one of them steps up to captain and he fills the fourth spot.
My take on Maya in the green card interview is that she just got to the point of having had enough. All season she has had to put up with the bureaucracy of losing her captaincy and now she's in an immigration interview, which is more bureaucracy, having to persuade a stranger that her marriage is genuine and real. She's never really dealt with her frustration over her demotion so when he asks her the question about why she lost her job, and accuses her of insubordination, she goes off on one. And then he's asking her what feels like pointless questions Of course it was the wrong time and place - but, let's face it, it was a plot device to get her to the point of confronting the Chief at the end of the episode.
And that has been a common theme of so many stories this year. Take Jack being the donor. My view of it at the start was that they were trying to tell a story similar to Danielle's personal experience, and I think perhaps it did inspire them, but it was also a plot device to further Jack's storyline - because being a donor meant getting a genetics test, which meant finding out he had a biological brother, which meant finding out that, after he was adopted, his parents went on to have a family without him.
That's why so many of the stories have fallen flat this year, I think.
I am curious about whether Maya's threat to expose Ross & Sullivan backfires. My gut tells me it will. But it's interesting to have Maya go down that path, really the only path she has left since she can't rely on justice and fairness. I don't think it reflects badly on her - or maybe it's my Maya-tinted-glasses talking. Again, I think it shows that she's had enough.
This season has generally been badly written. I hope that there is some reflection over the hiatus given how poorly the second half of this season and the season finale has been received.
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Evolution 2001
First movie. Evolution.
Bowl: Heart Eyes, courtesy of my friend Debz
This is something that I've seen a lot. Like I mean a lot a lot. I've watched countless times with my family.
One of probably the only things I have in common with my siblings is that we are part of an addiction, an addiction to movies. This happens to be one of the ones we watched on a semi regular basis and could probably repeat in my sleep.
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Something random, I named my hamster after David Duchovny's character in this movie. Yupp, his name was Ira Cane. I also named my dog as Ian Somerhalder's character in his earlier role of Boone in Lost. This one was longer, is name was Boone Ian Somerhalder *Insert my last name here*
Of course none of this really has to deal with the movie, but what do you expect from a blog starting with the word reefer lol!
And already munchie lol. Time for one of the chocolate Christmas tree cakes
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This is one of my favorite Orlando Jones movies also. He cracks me up! "God gave you two god damn hands for a reason!"
You ever wonder what some actors think about when they're filing. Like during a certain part, say when Orlando Jones walks behind David D shaking his hips all crazy. Like Orlando, my man, how did you not cry laughing every time?! Like I would be busting out! But I guess that's why you're the actor!
Insert fear factor candidate! Wearing open toe heels in a cave you know nothing about having flat worms just crawling around your toes. NO THANK YOU NADINE!
Side note, I don't think I would want to live around that much sand. I sure like grass, maybe not the bugs that come with it, but still. I really hate sand. Like almost Anakin in Star Wars level of hate of sand. Same thing he says, IT GETS EVERYWHERE, impossible to get rid of.
Oh Julianne, you're so goregous! And I love EVERYTHING you're in! 13 ghosts, love it. Crazy Stupid Love with Steve Carrell, another great movie!
I can't tell you how long it took me to understand why David D was saying fruit basket to the general, like wow 0.0 and then I couldn't tell it was his ass on the windshield also for a sad amount of time. I'd like to point out I was 9 when the movie came out and was raised in a very Christian household so I was/still am oblivious to some sexual innuendos and such. But I sure as hell make enough jokes myself! LOL!
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My favorite part is about to come up. Orlando is about to get a bug in his body and need to have it removed from his ass! "I'd like an ice cream please" -OJ, "Yeah, what flavor?" -JM, "It doesn't matter. It's for my ass" -OJ. As weird as it sounds, my husband quote that the most. It's also a favorite of his!
"There's ALWAYS TIME FOR LUBRICANT!"
Sean William Scott is great in this as well. Can't forget about him. Stifler, the man himself! He was in a movie with The Rock called The Run Down, also another family and hubby favorite lol!
Hope you can get the point now about what this blog is about, because this is pretty much what you're gonna get. I really am stoned and typing what I think while watching this movie.
Hubby is grinding me more bud, and I'm munching again, this time on some cookies.
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This lady about to get bit! like basically lose a finger from this alien. I couldn't imagine. OUCH! "We don't have a damn dog." He is nothing close to a dog, like at all lady. Fucking buzzard tongue looking mother fucker. Then it just deflates. Like wtf
So, you think that just saying to a cop "he shouldn't have touched it," several times he would just let you in?
The alien is about to give birth now, UGH its like a big loogie! Its oxygen tolerant and heads straight to a mall. How do you lose a 20ft bird in a mall? Well we sure know how to get it back, ask Sean William Scott to sing You are so Beautiful. "Rub some funk on it."
"So what do you want light meat or dark?"
My favorite song from the movie, Play Some Funky Music by Wild Cherry. Now I'm not as strong with music as I am with Movies and actors. I just had to google that so sorry if it's wrong, it was The Google! It lied to me!
Enter Dan Aykroyd! Love him too! Ghostbusters, of course another favorite, though honestly I only like the first one and the remake with my favorite Melissa Macarthy! "What the Fuzzy No Nose Chimp?"
"Haven't you noticed how shiny and flake free our hair is?" Who would have thought the solution to this movie was Head and Shoulders. Like so far off the wall am I right? And then using a fire truck to hose it down with. Feel so bad for OJ having to get covered in it and getting sucked up into a butt. Like who else can say they did that in a movie?
And sure, who wouldn't want to fuck after getting farted on by a giant ass hole lol! I mean I get the endorphins burning and what not, but they were still covered in shampoo and probably guts. I would not want to get that in my vajay!
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And this brings us to the end of our movie and review! Hope you've enjoyed my randomness!
Till next time
-RRR
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So I broke 2 molars about a month back. (Shout out to Indie the Chaos Demon's fat head.) I went to an emergency dentist because my jaw swelled & I could barely talk. The first dentist I saw there was a prick who was really condescending about the fact that these needed root canals & crowns ages ago, basically indicating that it's my own fault they broke. Then he saw my cane & said "What's that for? Are you under the care of a doctor?" Well yeah I just got done telling you about a genetic condition I have that fucks up my bones so I think that answers both questions here. I flat told him I couldn't afford the work & just need them extracted. He sneered & refused. The techs & office/billing ladies who had chit chatted with me before my exam were aware of my situation (genetic condition ruins structural integrity of teeth & left me disabled raising a kid on a little more than $900 a month). They came in to give me the info the doctor told them to, then got close to me & whispered that they were sending some antibiotics to my pharmacy & the other provider would be in the next day, so call in the morning & come in. (It's worth noting that I'm always very clearly embarrassed about the state of my teeth due to all those factors & am very upfront & apologetic about the whole thing with anyone involved. Sucks since I take immaculate care of them.)
The other provider with them was AMAZING. He looked at my xrays & chart & the notes about the situation at hand. Super lovely & understanding. However, after 8 cartridges of local anesthetic I still wasn't numb, aside from a little of my lip/cheek (which wore off within an hour). He was extremely apologetic about not being able to get it done & referred me to an oral surgeon. Bonus: he said the words "after looking at your medical history, I'd probably guess that the EDS is messing up how you're effected by lidocaine." What's annoying is that 3 years ago I had a crumbling molar removed & 2 hrs of them drilling infected jawbone out with just lidocaine so... that's fucking dumb.
The oral surgeon couldn't see me in the office closest until a week from today, so I set that up because with the antibiotics it didn't really hurt if I was careful.
Then yesterday Bailey got upset & hit me in the jaw with her fat paws. I've slept 2 hours, but not consecutively, had ice on my face since about midnight, and am genuinely wondering if I can just rip them out myself & what the consequences of that would be. So I called to see if they had any sooner appointments at literally any fucking office. At 130 pm I will be going under to get these taken from my head since apparently lidocaine doesn't work properly anymore.
Super fun fact: all of this is being financed via the bank of dad (which I hate doing) but overall cost is lower than I expected given that I need to be put under.
and AND 2 days after I initially scheduled with the oral surgeon, the back molar on the other side crumbled. It's missing the entire back half, but getting it out at the same time is an extra $525 that I just don't have the ability to conjure from any source right now. So this is just my life now. My teeth constantly breaking & me scrambling to sort it out. I also have a few front ones that are getting... sketch
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nathfiset · 1 year
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How to avoid SUID -Sudden unexpected infant death?
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What is SUID-sudden unexpected infant death?
Sudden unexpected infant death happens when a baby under one year of age dies of no immediately obvious cause. This means the baby was not injured or sick when put to bed. Sudden unexpected infant death account for about 3400 babie's deaths every year in the US alone according to the CDC (Center for disease control).
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SIDS which is short for sudden infant death syndrom is more related to the older terminology and accounts for the infants who died before the age of one year in their sleep of unknown cause.
How to prevent SUID of unknown cause?
Although 73% of unexpected infant death are of unknown cause, there are some factors that have been noticed to be associated with an increase rate of infant deaths. You cannot prevent SUID but you can lower the chances of it happening by: -Not smoking during your pregnancy and in the house when the baby is born. Second hand smoking is a factor associated with an increase risk of SUID. -Not using drugs during pregnancy. -Always putting your baby to sleep on its back. You can do supervised tummy time during the day to avoid a flat head. If your baby is strong enough to roll on its side or tummy, the odds are very low that he would suffer from SUID. It is not recommended in those circumstances to check periodically and turn your baby on its back again. -Not overheating your baby. -Breasfeeding has a protective effect on SUID -If your baby falls asleep sitting like in the car seat or swing, remove him and put him flat on his back in his crib. -Sleeping in the same room as your baby BUT NOT IN THE SAME BED for the first year is recommended
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What is ASSB-accidental suffocation and strangulation in bed?
“Sleep-related causes of infant death” are those linked to how or where a baby sleeps or slept. These deaths are due to accidental causes, such as suffocation, entrapment, or strangulation. Entrapment is when the baby gets trapped between two objects, such as a mattress and a wall, and can’t breathe. Strangulation is when something presses on or wraps around the baby’s neck, blocking the baby’s airway. Go around your baby's sleep environment and make sure that there are: -No loose objetcs in his crib, -no cords (like curtain cords) or necklaces that could strangulate your baby in his sleep. -no gab between his crib mattress and wall -no loose toys or objects that could get in your baby's face and suffocate him. -it is recommended not to use any blankets, pillows or toys in your baby's crib. -You can swaddle your baby but not too tight and never use a weighted swaddler. It is essential that you also have a good night's sleep. If you have taken all the necessary precautions to lower your risk of SUID and are still stressed-out, you need to consult your physician. Also, taking well-deserved breaks where a person that you trust will stay awake and check your baby might be a good idea. Using apnea monitors have been proven to cause more distress in the parents as the alram sounds constantly for wrong reason and have not been associated with a significant reduction of SUID at home. Always check the latest recommendations from the CDC and the American Pediatric Association Nathalie P.s. When I started med school in 1985, we were taught that putting baby on its side was the safest sleeping position. Times and medical evidence change. P.p.s. When I was searching for a cute images of a baby sleeping, the first 100s images where all doing something NOT recommended to lower the risks of SUID! like cute blankets, hats, feather beds, etc!
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Read the full article
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batchelorhahn2 · 2 years
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hermes pochette kelly 9
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henqtic · 3 years
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hi, i love ur writing! if requests r open, may I request this:
reader was looking forward to something (it can be anything) and it didn't work out or got canceled and she's disappointed. But Draco knows how excited she was for it, so he's there to make her feel better or cheer y/n up
Stupid Party
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pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader
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summary: you had to admit it, you were looking forward to attending slughorn’s christmas party more than intended— completely excited for the event and to get uninvited on such short notice for a factor you didn’t know mattered— made you sadder than intended, at least draco was there to cheer you up.
word count: 1.3k (1340). | warnings: angst (overall fluff), implications at the readers family being muggles, slughorn being an ass 
authors note: nonnie, i’m asking for your hand in marriage for requesting this. like i wrote the first draft and edited it in only five hours after you sent it in— hope you like it as much as i do and also have a good night/day/evening <33
masterlist. // taglist form. // request works.
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you let out yet another sigh, heavy and deep from within your chest. another wipe had just gotten filled, falling into the pitiful pile of the others. foundation and concealer shades, lip gloss, eyeshadow, mascara, it was all reduced to five sheets that you swept into the can on the side of the sink.
now more than ever, happy that your boyfriend was an utterly spoiled child— given a nice bathroom connected to his dorm so that you wouldn't have to go all the way down to the fifth floor prefects to remove it all.
it wasn't even like you were devastated about slughorn sending neville longbottom to find you in the hall minutes before the party started to let you know that maybe it wasn't the best for you to come after all— not knowing at the time of inviting you that you were closely connected with the only malfoy attending the school, that you were one of his closest friends for years and for a good amount of those, being his girlfriend.
it turns out that the old man was all about neutrality and you well, you weren’t that. you just wished he didn’t allow your hopes to become so high, even when you were first planning to decline.
draco was only a few steps behind you in sitting at the table when it happened, carrying your mugs of hot cocoa you were going to drink together. and when he approached you, slughorn, he didn’t even attempt to hide the fact he was trying to not make eye contact with the boy.
so that combined with you not wanting to make draco feel any worse about his position, being looked over for academic achievements that would previously be praised to the roofs, and the all too true rumors flying around about his family's name and himself— it wasn’t exactly something you were jumping to except.
but he wouldn't have any of that, giving you a stern but excited look that made you turn your words around.
he helped you pick your dress decorated in different silks of a darker yellow, not wanting you to go around looking like the one bird from a cartoon show your sister made him watch— most likely big bird but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of calling you that.
took you to one of the finest jewelry stores in hogsmeade, expecting to have you let him splurge on you but keeping him at bay with a simple but impeccably beautiful necklace that you had unclamped from your neck an hour ago.
even staying around to watch you do your makeup before remembering why he was still attending hogwarts in the first place, leaving you with a long apology, a string of kisses, and compliments before he left to the cabinet again.
so no, it was a lie— you were the biggest bit of devastated because you were all sorts of excited to go, looking forward to it even, both of you were. it held some hope that maybe it could make you happy unlike this past year had, staying up all night with wide grins and retelling stories of what happened, but nope. 
now you laid on his bed alone, flat on your back in a starfish position, letting his scent consume you completely— wrapped up into a tight ball that you didn’t want to come out of.
you were planning on just staying there until he came back, probably already exhausted from bigger things he was forced to deal with and not something as small as your emotions over some stupid party.
but you were surprised to hear the sound of the knob turning, door opening with a flash of light blond hair telling you that your hour or two you thought you had to get both yourself and story straight were non-existent.
a hand quickly came to swipe over your face, as to wipe off any look that didn’t give the illusion that you were completely happy, overjoyed even and decided to leave the event on your own terms.
“oh babe, you're back earlier than usual,” you beamed still with your arms and legs out, turning your head slightly to skim over his black attire— the jacket was riddled with wrinkles, visible as he removed it from his body.
he sucked in a breath at your voice, having noticed you not at the party when he accidentally crashed it but not expecting you to be in his room— rather off somewhere with friends.
“merlin, you scared me there, love. and that applies to you too, doesn’t it, why aren’t you off somewhere enjoying yourself?”
your face dropped at his concerned question, smile becoming less of that and sigh emitting as you looked away from him and to the ceiling above you. freeing up some space on the bed at his nudge on your side— allowing you to lay your head on his chest for some comfort.
“let’s just say horace slughorn is much more of a prick than he let’s show,” you grumbled, snuggling yourself closer into his warmth. 
“wanna talk about it?”
you gave him a limp shrug of your shoulders and a quiet not really in response— not at all in the mood to retell it.
“well, it was pretty boring looking if you ask me. cheap, petty decorations, drinks didn’t even look good enough for you to drink— goyle’s family’s thrown better,” he joked in an attempt to cheer you up, shaking your body and eliciting a laugh too small for his liking.
so he took the initiative, standing up from his spot under you on his already sore limbs— letting your body softly fall back onto the bed, soon getting up on your elbows to see what exactly he was up to.
digging up an old record player you bought from home in one of his dressers, clicking his wand to it a few times before it started to play a song, tunes of holiday woven into it.
“are you going to continue laying there or give me the great privilege of dancing with you,” he asked with his hand out, eyes filled with tiredness but overpowered with the look of adoration. 
rolling yours at his, you raised one of your arms in the air, allowing him to pull you up and close into his with a giggle that would soon become uncontrollable.
“thank you, this means a lot to me,” you whispered into his ear after a few minutes of swaying, leaning your head further down to kiss a spot on his neck before letting it stay there, resting on him as he led the way.
“no need, did you think i'd just let you stay there, sad over some man who smells like old couch? and either way, this is good practice— for the rest of our lives i wouldn't let you ever end up like that if i have something to do with it.”
“rest of our lives? we’re teenagers y’know.”
“and we’re close to falling in war, take this as a promise that once it’s all over— i'll always be there when you need it,” he hummed, not getting an answer just yet but the not so well hidden smile on your face.
“yeah, rest of our lives.”
you pulled away, keeping your arms wrapped around him and going in for a soft kiss— so overly appreciative of him and his skills at making you feel the way you did. heart welled up to amounts it had ever been, smile that took up nearly half of your face and completely delayed amusement.
“wait, old couch, since when?”
“oh, c’mon you know it, like cats, grandmother on my father’s side, general must—”
“ah, that's so rude!”
you hit his shoulder with a gasp as you both broke out in laughs, bouncing off of every wall in the slytherin dungeons that were usually vacant of the sounds, “i wouldn’t say it if he didn’t deserve it.”
“yeah right, you know you would.”
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🔖—!! @turn-to-page-394-please @clownybrit @callmesasha @aguamvnti @dracosathenaeum @maybanksslut @marrymetheonott @becgggg @gwlvr @oh-my-ronron-mphfpc-fanfic-heart​ @draco-malfoys-significant-other  @bella-lxhp @trashyvicks @Imtryingbutithurts @potterheadtwilighter @galimalfoyweasley @tomandjaebae @mrsmaifoy @riddleswh0r3crux @slvt4fakerealities​ @silverdelirium @dlmmdl @hogwarts-boys @akaaaaashiiii @writeandtranslate @fleursbabe @desiredmalfoy @badass-yn @ilygw @redheaded-hobbit @belladaises @yandere-marvel @dreamcxtcherr​ @lovelymalfoyy @hogwarts-102 @darlingmalfoy @dracmalf0y-dm @Natashaeverline @yoooespinosa @noellestrash @mrs-brekker15 @malfoysbiitch @mollysolo @haroldpotterson @samaraaaaa @nicofiliac @yiamalfoy @lieswithoutfairytales @jemimah-b99 @clearbolts @arabellelancastersstuff @i-love-scott-mccall @wolfstar-lb
[adding other tags in a reblog because i can’t edit on mobile with them all]
to be tagged in future draco malfoy works + other characters in the harry potter fandom and other fandoms i write for, fill out this form <3
or follow @henqticstudy and turn on notifications (works just like a taglist would) <3
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outercrasis · 3 years
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Sessions
Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Warnings: None (let me know if I missed something!)
Summary: Everyone is talking about the mysterious new guy on campus
A/N: I had a ton of fun writing this extremely self-indulgent AU and I have plans to keep writing more about these two. It won’t be an actual chaptered fic, but at some point I’ll throw together a masterlist with a chronological order to things.
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
Introductions
The semester had only started four weeks ago and he was already a legend around campus. Almost everywhere someone could be found whispering about him. You'd even heard faculty speculating, wondering about the rumors they overheard their students sharing.
You first heard of him in your literature seminar, some of your fellow classmates discussing a recent rumor about the now fabled man. Something about a motorcycle and a child caught your ear, prompting you to interrupt and the girls in front of you who they were talking about. 
The looks you received from the pair were incredulous at best. “You mean you haven’t heard about him?”
“Heard about who?” you asked, genuinely confused. It had only been the first week of class at the time and you were too caught up with your own busy start to check in on the rumor mill.
“Mando, obviously. He’s all anyone is talking about.” From there the girls had happily filled you in on all the latest sightings and rumors. 
Mando, as they called him, was shrouded in mystery. He'd popped up on Corellia University's campus when the semester began and no one knew a thing about him. He hadn't gone to Corellia before, internet searches turned up nothing, and even the skull-like symbol on the back of his leather jacket wasn't familiar to anyone. Any information on him was conjecture at best and there was plenty to go around. Once the rest of the class caught onto what you three were discussing, theories began to fly.
People discussed how he’d been spotted downtown, beating on some guys in a back alley. He’d also been seen uptown the same night though, strolling through Basalt Park. One girl was nearly certain that she’d gone to elementary school with Mando, but he’d mysteriously disappeared one day without explanation. Someone else was confident he was just a cop trying some weird shtick to go undercover. Then one person insisted he had a kid with him sometimes while another was trying to explain that he was actually a murderer. The rumors only became more ludicrous from there.
By the end of the discussion you only ascertained two things for certain. He went by the name Mando and he wore some kind of special helmet. Information you could have gotten by watching him pick up a drink at the Java Hut. Not nearly enough to warrant this level of fervor in your opinion.
From there, hearing about Mando was inescapable. You got home that night only to have your roommate and best friend, Layla, launch into theories about him. Within the week someone set up a social media page to try and track his location around campus via DMs fellow students sent in. That had struck you as invasive and unsettling, but the messages about him kept flooding in.
By pure chance, you had yet to actually see him for yourself. There weren't even any creep shots for you to look at. People had been trying to take photos of him, but he was like a ghost. In the time it took them to pull up their cameras he'd disappear. 
There wasn't even more concrete information about him beyond what you'd learned that first day. Just more and more speculation, a good amount of it made up purely for the shock factor. Another week slipped by, the semester picking up, and Mando news became standard in your day. There was always something new going around about him and as much as you tried to avoid it and focus on your studies, you couldn’t help but wonder about him yourself.
Who was this guy? Was this all some stunt or ‘social experiment’ that would be revealed by a sociology student at the end of the semester? Or was he a legitimate peculiarity, doomed to stick out like a sore thumb? You weren’t sure if you should hate him for making a big deal out of himself or pity him for all the unwarranted attention. Either way, you were sure that whenever you met this enigmatic Mando, you’d know.
×××××
You grumble looking at the submission form. The name and student ID information is blank again. You told Todd last week those fields needed to be made mandatory. How else were you supposed to know who to email when you end up with a no-show for the hour?
Looking further down you're pleased to note that they're at least a grad student. Despite the unfinished form, graduates almost never skip sessions like these. You're thrilled to have the opportunity to discuss something other than freshman composition for once. It's fun helping the wide-eyed freshies, but you can only go over basic comma rules so many times before you start to lose it a little.
There's a knock at the study room door and you look up only to be rendered speechless. It's him. Mando. With a kid on his hip. So Alissandra hadn’t been lying when she told you about the toddler she saw with him. Interesting. Continuing to take him in, you can’t help but focus on the obvious - the only thing you knew about him other than his supposed name, the helmet. 
It’s unlike anything you've seen before. You're fairly certain it's a motorcycle helmet, but it's been modified. Rather than the typical rounded shape, his is all sharp angles and flat at the front. It’s colored a sleek, shining chrome that gleams under the washed out fluorescent lighting. Most arresting is the way he's changed the face of the helmet. The cheeks dip inward at a sharp angle, creating deep, curved contours. His visor is a T of black glass in the center, entirely impossible to see through. It's intimidating and… kinda hot?
The little boy he's holding starts to wiggle in his grasp, physically demanding to be set down in the study room. Once his feet touch the floor, he immediately runs over and climbs into the chair next to you. He's a welcome distraction from his father’s? brother's? guardian's? commanding presence in the room.
The boy can't be older than three, smiling up at you with a wide toothy grin. His hair is covered by a green beanie with large floppy ears sewn onto it and he's wearing a little brown jacket with a sherpa collar. Maybe a bit too heavy for the early autumnal weather, but if the rumor that the kid rides on a motorcycle with Mando is true, it’s perfect. His eyes are large and brown, shining up at you with a slightly mischievous glint.
"Hello, what's your name?" you ask, smiling back at the child.
"Grogu," comes the reply, not from the kid, but from Mando.
You arch an eyebrow at him. He can't be serious with that name. "Grogu?" you ask.
He shrugs, placing his bag on the table. "I came home one day and he told his babysitter that was his name now. He won't respond to anything else. So, Grogu."
You look back to the bouncing toddler. He's still grinning, nodding along with what's been said about his name. They must not be lying then. Either that, or it was some elaborate prank between them and you would never be in on the joke. 
"Well okay, Grogu it is." 
You extend your hand out to Mando, offering your name alongside it. He offers a leather clad hand in return, giving you a firm handshake. You're pleased when he only gives your hand a gentle squeeze, not crushing it like so many other students have done. His gloves are unique as well, black with orange fingers, the leather well worn in. It's warm to the touch, his body heat radiating through the thick fabric. 
"Mando," he says, officially introducing himself as he takes the seat on your other side, across from Grogu.
"Mando," you repeat, cementing it as a truth from the rumor mill. "Got any other names?" You hope that comes across as casual and not intrusive. He hasn't even gone to remove his helmet, telling you he isn't a man who cares much for people prying into his business.
"No. Why?" Mando cocks his head slightly as he asks, the helmet adding an exaggerated look to the movement. He reaches into his bag, pulls out some crayons and a pad of paper, pushing them over to Grogu.
You shrug, trying not to think about how you heard his name might be David from someone in your composition course. "Just thought I'd ask. One hears many things around campus and it's hard to tell what's true or not."
"What do you mean?"
That question makes you pause. Surely he knows. Part of you is still convinced he’s doing this act on purpose, trying to gain notoriety for some reason. The way he asked though, something about it tells you that the poor man is clueless about the buzz he's caused.
"Mando, you're like the talk of the town right now. We only just met but I've heard plenty about you," you explain. It's hard to tell with the helmet on, but you're fairly sure he's shocked underneath. Grogu ignores you both, excitedly scribbling away on his paper.
"I'm fairly sure most of it's just rumor and speculation, but still. You're like a thing around campus," you add.
He's quiet for a moment, his laptop only half out of his bag. "Oh," he finally says. "I didn't know."
Grogu gives a happy shriek not a second later, breaking the awkward tension that had begun to creep into the room. He's beaming, holding up his crayola masterpiece. On the paper there is what appears to be a hastily drawn frog using every color in the box.
Mando returns to himself, pulling his laptop the rest of the way and continues to get set up. "Great job, kid. It looks good."
Most people would have said that dismissively, a platitude to get their child to stop bothering them. When Mando says it though, the authenticity is palpable. He said six words and you can hear the pride lacing them all together. It’s sweet, the obvious affection this clearly private man has for the toddler. 
You can’t help but wonder what his connection to Grogu actually is. The way he spoke just then, if you had to put your money on it, you’d say father. The kicker then though is if he’s biological or not. And if not, then how else does a grad student get strapped with a three year old? Thinking about all the potential scenarios is enough to make your head hurt.
You’re also left wondering where all the more violent rumors about him are coming from. His tenderness is so readily on display that it’s hard to imagine the man before you choking someone because they cut him in line at the local froyo shop. He’s mysterious and gives off a vaguely dangerous vibe, sure, but less than five minutes around him and the kid and it’s obvious he’s no threat to you. He’s just a guy trying to get his assignments done for class, same as everyone else.
Your stomach still catches in your throat as Mando starts unexpectedly tugging off his gloves. From what you’d heard, he never takes anything off: not his jacket, not his gloves, and certainly not his helmet. All anyone knows of his true appearance on campus is that he’s obviously male with rumors flying around about everything else including simple attributes, like the color of his skin. Now, here he is, casually revealing this groundbreaking information to you.
His hands move fluidly, pulling off each glove in just a few easy tugs. His skin matches the heat you felt from them just minutes ago, a warm golden tan, with a few faded lines of scars worn in. Watching him type, pulling his paper up for you to discuss, you feel a deep and sudden ache to have his hands touch you again. A simple handshake is no longer enough. Every stroke of the keys is measured, deliberate, and leaves you wondering how he would use those fingers on you.
“This is what I have so far.”
His voice snaps you back to reality, a quick wave of shame washing over you. Where did all of that come from? It was just a man’s hands for heaven’s sake, certainly not something you should be horny about at two in the afternoon. Not to mention that he came in here looking for your help, not wanting you to start fantasizing about his hands expertly working you over.
You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the offending appendages. “Great, let me just read the introduction here so I can get an idea for what you’re writing about.”
You settle into working with him easily. His paper is already well-written, just needing tweaks here and there to bring it to the next level. It’s nice working with him. He’s attentive, clearly listening to everything you have to say and taking it into account. He doesn’t even try to challenge you as some of the more macho male students are wont to do. By the end of the session, you can’t help but wish all of your time as a tutor was that easy.
“Thank you,” he says sincerely, tucking his laptop away. “You really helped.”
You smile at him, thrilled with his genuine complement. “Of course, that’s what I’m here for.”
He finishes packing up his and Grogu’s things, with you silently lamenting as his gloves slide back on. It still feels like a ridiculous thought, but he really does have beautiful hands. There’s a small tap on your arm and you look to your left to see Grogu patiently waiting. He’s offering something to you, paper outstretched in his little hands.
“Thank you,” you say, taking the sheet from him. You look at it to see a frog carefully drawn on the page. It’s not the same as the first one he showed you and Mando, this one more deliberate and thoughtful. The colors are still just as varied, but it’s obvious he took more time to think about where he was using each one. You can’t help but smile at his small masterpiece.
“It looks great, buddy. I’ll keep it forever,” you tell him. Grogu beams at your praise, excitedly looking over to Mando. 
Mando nods at the kid. “Yeah kid, I heard her too.” He turns his head towards you. “Thank you again. I’d take good care of that drawing. He’ll never forgive you if he finds out you got rid of it.”
“Does that mean I’ll be seeing you again?” Your own boldness takes you by surprise. You have no idea where that came from, how those words spilled without a second thought. Part of you is already cringing at Mando’s potential reaction.
He surprises you once again though, holding a hand out for Grogu to take. Shouldering his backpack, you hear an amused huff of air from under the helmet. “Yeah, mesh’la, I’ll see you around.”
There isn’t a chance to reply as Mando turns, escorting his tiny charge out of the room with him. You’re a little dumbstruck, now equally surprised with him as you had been with yourself. 
And what was that name he just called you? Mesh’la? You don’t even know what language that could have been, much less the meaning. Something about his tone when he said it tells you it’s a good thing though, that he’s not secretly calling you rude names in some unknown language. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever get to find out.
.
.
.
taglist: @honestly-shite
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esther-dot · 2 years
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I've been in a lot of different fandoms over the years, and what I have noticed is that there will always be that one character that a huge majority of the fandom hate to the point that they'd go to blogs that actually like said characters and harass them for it. They'd also flood tags of said character with how much they hate then when the anti tag works perfectly well for that purpose.
And it's always the female characters that get this kind of fandom treatment. The men could be doing massacres and other atrocities and the entire fandom would call them misunderstood cinnamonrolls.
It's weird. It's toxic. I just don't get it.
I haven't been involved in another fandom, but that's certainly true for the ASOIAF and GoT fandoms, and it is so weird. I don’t know what to make of it.
I seems like people have an instinctive, sympathetic response to pain, and since many villains have painful backstories, it makes sense we're drawn to them as characters, even if they do horrible things. That's certainly the case for Tyrion, the Hound, etc and in contrast, the initial introduction to Sansa is that she is beautiful, perfect at everything she does, and will have everything good that life has to offer, so people have no immediate "this poor thing" reaction. However, very quickly Sansa's life becomes hell—
This time the knight grasped her beneath the jaw and held her head still as he struck her. He hit her twice, left to right, and harder, right to left. Her lip split and blood ran down her chin, to mingle with the salt of her tears. (AGOT, Sansa VI)
"Thank you, ser." Knowing that Joffrey would require her to attend the tourney in his honor, Sansa had taken special care with her face and clothes. She wore a gown of pale purple silk and a moonstone hair net that had been a gift from Joffrey. The gown had long sleeves to hide the bruises on her arms. Those were Joffrey's gifts as well. When they told him that Robb had been proclaimed King in the North, his rage had been a fearsome thing, and he had sent Ser Boros to beat her. (ACOK, Sansa I)
Ser Meryn Trant seized Dontos by the arm and flung him brusquely away. The red-faced fool went sprawling, broomstick, melon, and all. Ser Boros seized Sansa.
"Leave her face," Joffrey commanded. "I like her pretty."
Boros slammed a fist into Sansa's belly, driving the air out of her. When she doubled over, the knight grabbed her hair and drew his sword, and for one hideous instant she was certain he meant to open her throat. As he laid the flat of the blade across her thighs, she thought her legs might break from the force of the blow. Sansa screamed. Tears welled in her eyes. It will be over soon. She soon lost count of the blows. (ACOK, Sansa III)
—and she is threatened with rape, molested, forced to marry into the family that murdered hers, had to watch her father die…she suffers a lot, yet most of the fandom fails to sympathize with her, many believe she needs to atone for some prior sin, and some hardcore antis claim she is beyond redemption. So the sympathy people feel that makes them excuse problematic actions doesn’t extend to every character.
It may generally be fans judging male/female characters by different standards, but during and after s8 we saw this happen with Sansa and Dany too. People seemed to draw a moral equivalence between Sansa breaking her promise to Jon and Dany burning KL. Obviously that makes no sense, but someone suggested to me that the reason this was the case is that those great big evils are (for most fans) so removed from our daily lives that we don’t have the same “muscle memory” that we do to say, a girl picking on us which is why some fans may never forgive Sansa for making Arya’s life hell (she didn’t, but in their minds she did), but can overlook a man slaughtering a boy. I guess we just see this kind of thought process over and over:
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I suppose another factor is that the people who are going to be involved in anything (fandom, politics, etc) are doing so because they really love something or really hate something, sometimes both (I adore Jonsa, hated Jxnerys). And on the internet vehemence gets attention so we feed into extreme views. So, rather than a problematic fav being treated with nuance, fans are rewarded for explaining away all those issues and acting like he is a cinnamon roll (“Dany was just a girl asking a boy to love her”) whereas the character they hate is painted in the worst light (“Sansa told Jon’s secret because she’s a power hungry bitch!”) and the fervor of love or hatred doesn’t allow the application of equal standards. The point is validation, rage clicks etc, not intellectual engagement.
We all have emotional reactions to things that transcend our criteria for good or bad, it’s just…I suppose it would be nice if we left it at “I don’t like that character” rather than formulating arguments why they’re responsible for other’s actions, or conversely say, “I know they’re evil, but evil has never looked so good,” rather than trying to act like there’s a moral good in mass murder. I like Cersei, clearly I enjoy evil characters too, but the way people genuinely convince themselves that atrocities can be committed for the greater good does worry me because I think some of that goes beyond fandom and moves into their real world thinking.
I’ll never understand the harassment and tagging stuff incorrectly to be offensive. If I don’t like the character or ship, why would I deliberately seek out ways to interact with their fans? Makes no sense!
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infernalrevenge · 3 years
Text
A Self-Made Man (Karl Heisenberg Trans Headcanons)
(CW: mentions of gender dysphoria, misgendering, unsafe binding, and other unsafe transition practices.
Also, PSA: DO NOT try binding with bandages or duct tape. Use a proper binder that is correctly sized for you. Do not be like Karl here, who will eventually learn from his mistakes.
Anyway, enjoy!)
Figured himself out around the time he hit puberty, more specifically when he heard about what AFAB people had to go through during it.
Basically his thought process about it was "What the fuck? What the fuck?? I don't like this, I don't like where this is going, mission abort, MISSION ABORT--"
Had to deal not just with gender dysphoria but also the painful Cadou experiments Mother Miranda imposed on him. HOW FUN.
Even when he wasn't on the table being picked and prodded, when it was time to "go home" and recover, he could barely even look at himself without feeling like himself.
It was pretty much only by the time he was (physically) 15 that he had had enough. If he was going to suffer under the bird bitch, he better at least be seen the way he wanted to be.
He insisted on being referred to as a man, and wasn't afraid to correct anyone who either made a mistake or deliberately does so.
If they did it on purpose -- and he knows if they did -- then he starts yelling. Just fucking screaming. Very loudly.
If they keep trying to talk without using the right titles and pronouns, then he would yell over them. Repeatedly. Without fail.
He doesn't have full control of his magnetic powers yet so this was the best he could do. And it's not like anyone would dare to try anything physically with him, not with Miranda on "his side".
As soon as they get it right though, he's just quiet and nodding, though with a seething glare that said "Don't ever try me again, fucker."
It was very effective.
The huge baggy coat that he still frequently wears was sort of just his version of a "dysphoria hoodie". It did the job.
When he was younger, he got his hair cut short every chance he could. He thought it made him look more manly that way, and people would take him more seriously as a man with short hair.
Did a lot of dangerous things (unknowingly) while trying to medically transition on his own. It was mostly because he was too impatient to do actual research then.
Tried binding using the tough bandages the Benevientos kept around their house because he wanted his chest to be AS FLAT AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE.
Moreau and Donna had to talk him out of it when they found out, only after he kept passing out during every family meeting since he started.
Donna instead gave him a proper binder when she did her own research on trans essentials. Karl thinks it doesn't get him as flat as the bandages did but at least he could breathe now.
He still wore it for days at a time though, which was also very terrible. He was incredibly lucky that his healing factor helped him not get fucked up in the long run.
Obtained testosterone from the Duke, who for some reason didn't question it, but without proper prescriptions so he just started injecting willy-nilly all because he did some cursory research about how it can masculinize bodies.
Once again had to be talked out of by the Duke and Alcina (back when she still cared about his well-being) when the former found out about what he was doing with it.
Was forced to see a doctor close to the village lest he lose his supply of boy goo.
Isn't afraid of injecting himself when necessary. One time he tried using his powers to do it with no hands. He almost missed and didn't do it again after that.
Has a few tattoos that inconspicuously also served as marks for his injection sites.
Definitely tried performing top surgery on himself. Alcina had to wrestle the scalpel out of his hands.
Like he was READY, he had an anatomy book on one hand, he had already marked on himself what and where to cut. He looked at a mirror and thought "okay titty go bye bye"
But alas, Alcina had to ruin everything. (She didn't ruin anything, Karl would've probably given himself an infection if he tried slicing himself open.)
In a way though, he found out that his "siblings" cared about him and how he approached his transition. It was kind of sweet.
Mother Miranda cares so little about Karl that him transitioning was no big deal at all. As long as she could still use him.
(He thought it was kinda funny but also sad that she had no regard for him whatsoever that she ended up indirectly supporting him instead. It was a weird way to look at it.)
When he finally did get surgery (safely and legally), his mutation helped him heal ridiculously fast. What would've been a few weeks of recovery and months of scar healing instead lasted just under a month.
Which was great for him because he wanted to get back on his feet as soon as possible. When he was up and running just two days after surgery and could remove the drains and post-op binder, the doctor was too bewildered to even speak.
Whenever he was alone in his factory, you bet your sweet ass he's shirtless 99% of the time. Dude didn't threaten a surgeon pay for surgery not to show off his nips.
Like most things in his life, his name was actually something he never thought of during his transition.
He didn't have that big of a problem with his deadname surprisingly, and he just kind of relied on everyone referring to him by his family name. Even Miranda only ever called him Heisenberg.
Though the thought of distancing his old self from his new self was appealing. Getting people to forget who he was before and being known as someone else, as who he was now -- yeah, that sounded good. So he decided on...
Karl.
Short, simple, and a name that pretty much no one could fuck up saying. It was perfect.
He rarely ever heard it when he was called, but finding it scrawled on Miranda's notes while he was snooping around one time almost... made him smile.
(Did she care? Or did she also just think it was easier to write than his deadname? Meh, oh well. Best not to dwell on it too much.)
Doesn't care for getting bottom surgery, but does want to get a hysterectomy. The potential for periods is always going to be a bitch.
Started growing out his hair when his beard was filling out. He thinks long hair is quite high maintenance though and he doesn't want it to get in the way of his work so it never goes past his shoulders.
Loves talking just because he loves how his voice sounds.
Proud of who he is and his journey to get where he is today. He only learned the term "transgender" recently, and once he did, he thought "Hey that's me!"
If anyone tries to be even the slightest bit disrespectful to him and his gender identity...
...they're getting thrown down the cellar with Sturm.
"It was your choice to be an ass, it was my choice to see you sliced to bits. Have fun!"
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