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kanna-banana · 6 months

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Ok, serious talk, I know nobody wants to read this but I'll feel better posting somewhere as opposed to vomiting my feelings all over my friends again, they've had enough, please feel free to ignore this and I'll be back to being silly in no time

Ok so, I know my blog is uncomfortable to read, I understand that my negativity and constant venting is at best annoying and at worst upsetting, i am aware of that but I also know that bottling up is worse to me and i feel like a liar if i just pretend everything is fine and just post silly stuff here.

My friends keep telling me I'm not a horrible person and am pretty funny actually and I think that is because they've know me for years and I was like that but things have not been going well im the last few years.

Yes I am not a bad person and I can be funny sometimes, but all of that gets overshadowed by the numerous mental issues I have and cannot cope with properly.

English is not my first language language so this gets a bit confusing because this nuance is pretty tricky in the language but as you all know is that "i am" can mean either "i am like this at the moment" (example "I'm cold" or "I'm hungry", those are not things that are inherent to you, they are temporary states) or "i am like this PERIOD" (example "I'm human" or "I'm Brazilian", they are permanent states about yourself)

Now

I know I AM (inherent) creative, funny sometimes, alright at drawing, and a bunch of other nice things people say about me when I'm crying, but you have to understand that i also am (temporary) completely fucked up mentally and emotionally, I'm not saying I'm going to be "cured" from being autistic btw, I'm counting not being able to handle my issues "being a bad temporary thing", like, i will never stop having ADHD symptoms (cannot afford a diagnosis so I'll just call them symptoms for now, or signs if you thing the word 'symptom' is a bit tone deaf) but i know i can learn how to live with it and function, even if my functioning looks very different from what's expected from a neurotypical person.

I am, at the moment, NOT DEALING WITH MY SHIT PROPERLY, and THAT is the issue I believe can be fixed. I will never have a good knee again, even after the surgery I just feel less pain, but i can learn how to adapt to my limitations, you know?

So, I am not, inherently, a failure, i know I'm not stupid or ugly or boring, but I'm so full of debuffs that basically I'm a piece of shit right now.

Yes, I did quit my job and tried to become a web developer and it went catastrophically bad, but I can't even count that as a failure because i NEEDED to quit that job either way (it was destroying my mental health) and if you're gonna quit going to live with a friend so dear to you she's basically a sister for a while and learning a skill you always wanted to at least start learning, isn't it worthy?

Yeah I "failed", but the happiness i felt along the way was worth even if it didn't work out in the end.

I know that, my mind knows that, but my feelings are absolute chaos and I sometimes fall into a deep self hatred spiral that makes me believe lies about everything around me, it even makes me believe everyone secretly hates me, which is OBJECTIVELY not true, if there's one thing I am in this world is loved.

I know it's sad, annoying, or even upsetting to see my posts and I'm not going to pretend they're inevitable, I CAN stop myself and I should have better restraint, I'm failing at that and I apologize for all the negative feelings I might have caused.

I know it's a pretty hard goal considering how my life is a huge mess right now, but my goal in life is to be the trans person i needed to meet when I was in the closet.

I want to be the type of happy, mature and intelligent person that my friends were when I met them 6? 7 years ago?

The people that completely shattered an entire lifetime of prejudice and fear that was forced into my brain since i was a toddler, the type of people that made me look at transphobic posts and go "that's not true, I've met trans people and they're some of the best people i know", the type of people who made me realize living as who you really are is both possible and achievable.

I want to be that person, someone who, just by being themselves, can melt away prejudice or at least be that kink in the armor of an angry reactionary that one day will help shatter the barrier of lies they protect themselves with and help them see that this hate was manufactured to use them as paws in a stupid made up culture war.

I got out of this horrible place with the help of wonderful people i will never be able to thank enough, and my dream is to help others out too.

I'm not saying i want to "trans" others, obviously, just to show that we are not the weird monsters thet so many out there want you to believe we are. To destroy the prejudice with the power of a honest, happy existence.

I want to be the person I needed when I was younger, lost, depressed, considering suicide, and constantly angry at anyone the liars and grifters who I trusted told me to hate.

I want to become the person who would have saved me back them.

I know it's going to take a lot of work, I have many barriers ahead of me, some inside of myself, some external, but neither way I have a LOT of work to do, and if there's one thing i can never do is give up.

I don't even know what "giving up" means at this point, I have to keep going, not only for myself but for those I might help in the future.

I can't change the past. I can't erase the harm my bigoted ignorant words caused, but I can grow into a person who heals as much as i used to hurt.

I know I'm a handful right now, and I am trying to control my words until i have the means to work on myself and improve as a person. Just, please be patient with me. If my posts upset you in the past please for your own sake unfollow/block me, I'm sorry I hurt you while trying to hurt myself, but unfortunately it will probably happen again, and there's nothing wrong with distancing yourself from someone that hurts you, even if they didnt INTEND to hurt you.

I am NOT (inherent) a failure

I am (temporary) failing

But I will get better.

I don't know how, I don't really have a plan, but I will figure it out somehow.

Life is not a game. I am not in a "doomed run", I can and I WILL live and be the best person I can be.

Thank you.

#kannablogiguess #kind of positive?

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magnoliawitchcraft · 2 years

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HOLD A FUNERAL FOR YOUR OLD HEART

I have been thinking a lot about grief. Probably because I have been doing it pretty consistently. Sometimes I feel as if I am getting worse. Other times I feel as if I am getting better. But it sits like a cannonball on my chest. It caves in my ribs and hollows me. But that's part of my practice, learning to sit with it. Letting time pass and heal with people I love and devotion to my practice. A victory only won through patience and the gifts of others.

That being said, I am also crazy.

So I did what any stellar, big bosomed, dramatic woman of my stature would do. I threw a party. If you're still reading, you might be interested in throwing a fun'eral for your old, broken heart too. I know I did. Fuck it, that bitch will be back in a week. Here's how I did mine. You're going to need:

-empty box (make it small, like a cardboard jewelry box or a matchbook)

- piece of paper

- something to draw with, but the more time you put into the drawing, the better.

- Something to light this on fire (don't be stupid, stupid. It's not witchcraft if it's not fire safe).

THE PROCESS

Draw your heart. Make it however you want. Runes, sigils, art, secrets. Something worth devotion and time, literally put your heart into it. For easy prompt, write down what you feared and what's worth acknowledging and letting go of.

Put that shit in the box (if you're Yzma from the Emporer's New Groove, put that box in another box. And then mail that box to yourself. And then smash it with a hammer.)

Now here comes the fun part. Throw yourself a party. Just for you. Alone. Get all dressed up in your best goth outfit. There are musts in witchcraft, but theatrics for this spell is a mist. Play the most over dramatic funeral music you can. Like "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban. Or "Wind Beneath my Wings" by Bette Midler. Lean into the silliness of the whole event. Make sure that you are along and have a genuinely nice time by yourself. And when you're done putting on this show for yourself, read the person who you were a eulogy. This is the one serious part of this entire endeavor.

-THE EULOGY-

This is the hard part because you have to be kind to the person who you were. You have to be kind to the part of yourself that feels yucky. Self love isn't always accessible, but you're by yourself. This is a good time to practice one action of self kindness. Depending on where you are emotionally, you might not have the practice and strength to be able to perform self kindness. If not, you're more than welcome to base yours of mine.

For me I wrote something like this:

"Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today to honor the passing of me.

From one point of time to the next, I will move and transform. The person who I was is honored here. They are at rest within the casket of time. You have taught me much, but I no longer wish to be ruled by you. Thank you for serving me well. May your rest be sweet and warm. I ask for your guidance and protection cares and informs me."

This concludes the eulogy.

-THE BURIAL-

It's time to bury your heart! This is an important step because the earth heals all that is returned to it. There are lots of ways to give your old heart a burial. The traditional way of burying it in the earth is most conventional (if it's not biodegradable like plastic or glass, don't put it in the ground, we share the earth with critters). However you can also:

- burn it

- let it down a stream

- put it deep in the garbage

- scatter it to the wind

- take it to a park and leave it underneath a bush and then when you try to get on the bus you realize you were late to the bus and then wait 20 minutes for the next bus because you're not psychic just a witch

Regardless, there is one final offering that we leave for the person that we were. That is the joy of living now. Before leaving or releasing your heart in its coffin, thank your heart and tell it a story. Sing it a song. From your body and breath, speak words of promise for tomorrow. While the old heart might not be able to come with, the new heart will experience enough joy for the person you are and the person you were.

Now get on the bus and listen to some 70s disco. Congrats on the fun'eral, go celebrate.

May the gifts of the earth be ceaseless at your hearth.

<3 Magnolia

#death witch #paganblr #folk witch #the morrigan #spellwork #death magic #coping with grief #griefjourney #magick #midwest gothic #liminal spaces #irishwitchcraft

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bananakarenina · 1 year

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For the fanfic ask!

our hearts can speak our selves unseen + 3,4,5, and 6

oooooooohhhhhh thank you for asking about this one!!! i'm excited to talk about it bc it's my first collab with @where-you-go and it was unbelievable amounts of fun to write. all of these answers are from my POV obviously; if jay has something to say i'm sure she'll say it XD

our hearts can speak ourselves unseen

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

okay this was hard! it's always hard for me, i love the things i write (and the things that jay writes, lol) so much that it's difficult to choose. but i will try.

from chapter 3--i love this one because of "candle-flame green" honestly, it's so romantic and intense

Luke looked up at him, hoping Reg would approve of his first attempt at directness—and the breath caught in his chest. Reggie was staring right at him with the most serious look Luke had ever seen, eyes candle-flame green and just as heated.

from chapter 5 and i'm pretty sure this one was all jay because the inner monologue is hilarious, she's so good at that. i reread "damn, alex, good for you" just now and still laughed

Alex was standing in the middle of his living room glaring right back at Luke, which would have been more effective if he hadn’t looked so thoroughly ravished. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, his t-shirt was crumpled and askew, and he’d clearly only buttoned his jeans and forgotten the zipper—not that Luke was looking at that particular part of his friend’s anatomy no matter how, um, prominent it was right now.

Luke quickly averted his eyes only to find Alex’s—date? hookup? friend?—hot guy lounging on the couch, watching Luke with playful eyes and an amused smirk. Clearly, he was in less of a rush than Alex, because he hadn’t bothered to do more than tug his jeans up over his hips, and was still lying there shirtless, which—

Damn, Alex, good for you.

also from chapter 5 (these are all from luke chapters which is interesting but also this part has him drawing from reggie's advice and reggie's everything, which i love):

For a second, his mind grasped wildly for the right turn of phrase that he could use to tell Julie just how he was feeling about her, about Reggie—like every puzzle piece in his life had just fallen perfectly into place, all the circuits closing and sending a shower of sparks running through his every nerve ending, lighting up his heart like a million fireworks all going off at once.

And then, cutting through the noise of all his thoughts about imagery and poetry and songs he could write, he heard Reggie’s voice: not everything needs to be a metaphor, Luke.

He could see Reggie’s green eyes, bright and burning in the fading light of evening as he said I want to kiss you.

He wanted to kiss her so badly his chest ached with it.

Sometimes it’s that simple.

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

this was incredibly difficult; it's always difficult for me to pick favorite dialogue mostly because that's what i'm trained in so i tend to love what i write, and also the dialogue in this whole fic is fire, like seriously, it's all so good. plus the texting!

i reread the whole damn thing and i still do love the entirety of chapter 2 for its dialogue--the back and forth between reggie & luke was something i had written before we officially started the collab, and the part involving reggie jackson was so silly but made me laugh so it stayed hahaha

also from chapter 2. i specifically love this because it says so much with so little. reggie is trying so hard to be Okay with luke having a crush who's not him, and luke turns it right around on him so casually. you're not allowed to meet her because she'll fall for you so fast, reg, and reg is so poleaxed by that! and it turns out luke was right hahahahahaha

“Bye! Say hi to your friend from work,” Reggie said, and threw Luke a wink.

“No way, man. You’re not allowed to meet her; I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

this is from chapter 5 and it is another jay special, i'm pretty sure. luke is so earnest about 'game respects game' and of course alex is like 'are you kidding'

Luke also had to laugh at that—it was pretty funny, after all, even if he’d never said it. “That sounds like something Reggie would say, that dork. He loves Dolly Parton, which I mean, she’s a pretty rad musician, even if it’s not really my personal style. Game respects game, you know.”

“Oh my god, Luke, your game is nowhere near Dolly Parton’s level of game, you moron,” Alex groaned, but Luke ignored him.

and i would be remiss if i didn't include a text portion; jay and i went back and forth about the formatting so many times to make sure it was readable (which is not going to translate directly here) and then trying to make text sound like texting and not like spoken dialogue--it's a similar thing to write but also completely different, you know? and people have different styles of texting. julie uses capital letters and decent enough grammar, while reggie uses emojis and lowercase all the time and interrupts himself more often with line breaks.

one of my favorite text chains is when luke (and alex and willie) are discovering the backlogged texts. i would copy/paste the entire thing here but this is already so long LMAO. but i love this section because again i love the layers here.

i remember going off of the thought that the recordings we have of the julie & the phantoms soundtrack are just Not It when it comes to bringing out the bassline which i feel is a huge oversight (stand tall especially stands out, like dude wtf who mixed that shit okay i'm turning into my husband help) and so i asked my audio engineer husband about the challenges of recording/mixing a bassline, hahaha. so i love this section because of the character layers and also author layers LOL

AND THEN the last part with the asterisk. that asterisk is extremely very purposeful. "i think i might be" is reggie almost confessing that he's in love at that moment and he swerves at the very last second because holy shit what is he doing he's known her for like a week

he covers but it's very very close lol

....okay clearly this section might be my real favorite, i just wrote a 5-paragraph essay about it:

/@ julie_woken_up: And you not being able to write it

@ julie_woken_up: It’s not that you’re a bad writer at all

@ julie_woken_up: Hm

@ julie_woken_up: It’s like—recording a bass line, right?

go on :eyes emoji:

@ julie_woken_up: lol how did I know you’d respond to a music metaphor

@ julie_woken_up: Okay

@ julie_woken_up: So recording a bass line is hard, right

@ julie_woken_up: Or...mixing one, I guess

@ julie_woken_up: Because the melody takes center stage

@ julie_woken_up: And the drums pierce through

@ julie_woken_up: But like

@ julie_woken_up: With the bassline

@ julie_woken_up: Lower pitches

@ julie_woken_up: You have to make sure you’re hearing it correctly

@ julie_woken_up: Some engineers and producers get lazy

@ julie_woken_up: They don’t pay attention

@ julie_woken_up: They’re too focused on the flashy stuff

@ julie_woken_up: But with bass

@ julie_woken_up: If the bass is off the whole song is off

@ julie_woken_up: So you have to get the mix just right

@ julie_woken_up: I think you’re the kind of person who is trying to get the mix just right

I think I might be*

you might be

too perfect to be real

5: What part was hardest to write?

hilariously enough, i think it was writing the resolution--like we knew julie and luke and reggie would end up together as a triad but we were like "wait, oh shit, of course julie would want an explanation, how do we make what reggie did worth forgiving?"

we touched on it a little bit with willie getting riled up about it in the previous chapter (your friend catfished my friend!) but luke (and alex, more importantly) were like no, that's not reggie, we think we know what happened but there has to be some explanation

and then we were like oh fuck we have to write that explanation

congratulationsyouplayedyourself.gif

in the end reggie explained and said there was no excuse and that he was sorry--the most direct route, which is what he was preaching the entire time hahaha

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

well, it was my first true collaboration, with another writer having Opinions and entire Scenes planned out, so learning both each other's writing styles/editing tendencies/comfort zones/favored phrases was part of writing as much as the actual writing was. like i did not have total control over this fic, you know? that's definitely a learning experience. a great one, because jay is amazing, but certainly something to get used to.

for example, just planning the fic itself, starting the fic was the first decision we had to make. the fic was the two of us discovering we had some overlap in terms of AU ideas--ie a cyrano retelling, though mine was canon-compliant or at least canon adjacent with ghosts still in play, and jay's was the alive!20s!AU you see in the finished fic. hers was way more fleshed out than mine so we started there and retooled my scenes to fit the universe, haha

WHEW okay that....was a lot drink some water kids

ask me things!

#jesus i didn't even go into the songs #i love the songs especially the country one we wrote for reggie #i was like holy shit this slaps #thank you for letting me go on and on about this #i had such a great time writing it and it was fun to look back #myfic #our hearts can speak ourselves unseen #ourfic #ask games #jmrothwell

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lady-fey · 1 year

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When Adapting, Ignore What the Character Does, Focus on Who They Are, Find Their Core

Adaptation is a fine art and one that's heavily practiced on this site through fanfiction, fan comics, and fan analysis. While it's always fine to be extremely "literal" in your interpretations of a property, if your goal is to be true to who a character is instead of how they're portrayed, then I strongly encourage you to take a step back and look at the character as a whole. What role do they fill? How are their actions treated by other characters? What genre is this piece media?

All of these things can tell you who a character is supposed to be (and what draws fans to them) even though the media might not portray them perfectly.

For an example of this, let's go extreme and look at Phineas and Ferb, a show that is so over the top and charming that I don't think that there's any controversy surrounding the characters like you might find in more serious, realistic shows that arguably have the exact same "issues".

Let's say that, for some reason, you want to take Phineas and Ferb and adapt it into something super realistic. Maybe a live action show?

There's two ways to do that.

The first way is to take exactly what the text shows, two neglected children whose parents are so inattentive that the kids are able to risk their lives on a near daily basis while their older sister begs the parents to wake up and see what's going on.

Way two is to acknowledge that this is a silly kids show that uses over the top humor to encourage imagination, which means that characters are exaggerated and what you see should not be taken literally. To make an adaptation that will be both more realistic AND true to the show, you'll have to find the characters' cores and restructure the story around those.

I'm not gonna go character by character for this, but let's do Phineas and Ferb's mom Linda as a real quick example to show you how this works.

As I said before, on the surface, Linda is neglectful. She remains oblivious to the downright dangerous stunts her kids pull off on the daily. However, her neglect is needed for the show to work, so we have to ignore it and look at how she's portrayed when she's allowed to interact with her kids AND how her kids are portrayed as thinking of her.

When you look at these elements, it's very clear that she loves her kids and that they have a positive relationship with her. Meaning that, to stay true to her, a more serious adaptation would figure out how to make the boys activates something that a normal parent could ignore so that Linda isn't seen as in the wrong. Maybe feats of imagination instead of real, death-defying rollercoasters?

Like I said, this is an over-the-top example for a show that I don't think anyone would want to see as more serious, but the principle holds true for any piece of media that you want to play with. Characters are just that, characters. Their actions are controlled by writers and production teams who don't always get things right. Plus genre can warp stuff even further. We've all seen a non-funny joke before and, sometimes, a questionable act by a character is nothing more than that: a bad joke. I can personally think of several examples of characters who I've seen people get mad at while I sit there thinking "yeah, that was not a good thing to have them do, but you do realize that was very clearly done for laughs, right? If you made this a serious show, that either wouldn't happen or it would be extremely toned down."

While there's nothing wrong with expressing your frustration through salt and discussions of the literal text, when you're upset, I strongly encourage you to step back and look for the core. To find the person that the character is supposed to be and let them shine. It's my go-to move when I write fanfiction because I only write fanfiction for pieces of media that have potential in my eyes. Media that I want to enjoy. If there's nothing enjoyable about the media? Then I just move on.

#writing advice #phineas and ferb #character development #character analysis #writing fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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vannahfanfics · 1 year

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Vannah, my wonderful friend! I've got all my oh-so exciting info for that match-up commission!

They/he pronouns, I'm a nonbinary trans masc. gremlin. I'm a very short boy, a whopping 5'3, and am definitely on the curvier, fluffier side when it comes to body types. (I like snacks. I regret nothing.) I've got real short brown hair that likes to stick up like crazy and golden brown eyes, which I'm told can look hazel in certain lighting. I put comfort over fashion with clothes because nothing is better in life than an oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Cozy heaven right there.

Being neurodivergent tends to make people think I'm odd or strange. I like it though. I like being different! It can be a little lonely though. Since social skills aren't my strong suit, I usually try to put people at ease with humor! (I follow the Mirio Togata theory that laughter makes everything better.) I also like complimenting people and letting them know they're doing a good job. Everybody needs to be appreciated sometimes. Overall, I'm told I'm too nice for my own good, but my family knows that only goes so far before my temper slips and I get sneaky. I'm not above using people's assumption that I'm naive against them. Mama Star didn't raise no fool.

For interests, I'm a nerd that loves learning. In true hyper introvert fashion, I bury myself into books on everything from revolutionary history to human zoology. I spend way too much time on Duolingo learning as many languages (Spanish, French, German, Russian, Japanese...) as I can and grew up reading books on medical terminology and emergency first aid. You already know this, but creative stuff is essentially my life though. I constantly have stories floating in my head and like to draw, paint, sing, play piano and voice act. I'm hoping to pick up guitar or harmonica next. I always have music playing on my phone. 24/7 at home.

The things I value most in people are kindness, a good sense of humor, and a mostly laid-back attitude to offset my anxious little ass. I would want someone that makes me feel safe to be myself - quirks, oddities, flaws and all. I like someone who can bounce back and forth between silly, light-hearted shenanigans to more serious, borderline philosophical discussions. (Intelligence is sexy, yo!) That's more of a bonus though. Someone that can be a friend and fellow adventurer in life is the more important aspect.

Thank you, Vannah! Hopefully I did this right. I've never been great about talking about myself. Sorry if this is too long or too much info! I really appreciate all your hard work and good luck with your medical studies!

Ahh, thank you so very much, Starry—for both your commission and your appreciation! <3 You're so kind! And not to worry, all of this information is great (I learned so much about you in one little message, hehe!) and will be put to good use for your match-up. Speaking of, let's get to it!:

I match you with...

Red-Haired Shanks from One Piece!

How could I match you with anyone but your great love in life? It would be simply blasphemous! LOL, real talk though, I think there are a lot of qualities about you that make you a good fit for Shanks, so why don't we dive in, hmm?

Shanks definitely strikes me as the type to be far more attracted to someone's personality than their appearance, but make no mistake—you're his little cutie patootie of a gremlin! He honestly enjoys the fact that you're over a foot shorter than him; he can just pick you up and carry you around and through you over his shoulder with ease (this is Shanks, though; he could do the same if you were a foot taller than him, LOL!). If he had to pick a favorite feature about you, it would probably be your wild, untameable hair. It speaks to his own wild and untameable nature!

Don't worry about your neurodivergence. Shanks likes that you're different, too! In fact, it would probably be the thing about you that catches his eye—that special spark that makes you, you. You can feel safe in your uniqueness with Shanks; he'll love every aspect of you, whether you consider it a flaw or a strength, simply because it is a part of you. And in the moments where you're less than appreciative about a part of yourself, you can count on Shanks to swoop in and tell you all the reasons why you should appreciate that part of yourself. He always knows the right things to say, especially because he one hundred percent feels that he's just speaking the truth! He'll definitely appreciate your love of humor, too. Shanks loves to laugh and have a riotous good time, after all, and he'll most appreciate somebody with wit to match his. Life's best when it's full of laughs and good times, as far as Shanks is concerned, and you just fill his life with that much more!

He'll also appreciate how ready you are to praise and compliment others. You're right; everyone needs to be appreciated, and he admires that you have no qualms about doing that. He recognizes that you aren't naïve, but, ever the mischievous fella, he'll definitely let people think that just for the entertainment of you one-upping them!

Shanks adores how hungrily you pursue knowledge! He's not as avid a learner as you, but he's got his own pockets of knowledge to share with you. Honestly, though, even if he doesn't have the faintest clue about what you're talking about, he'll happily learn and discuss topics with you just because he knows it makes you so happy. And, of course, he will happily provide you with anything you need or want to help you learn something new!

He also appreciates your creative streak. It's just so amazing to him, the fact that you can just... come up with these ideas and stories, all from your own mind! Shanks would definitely appreciate the musical aspects of you the most, I think; this guy is a partier, after all! He loves nothing more than to drink and dance and sing and have a grand ol' time! He's not the best singer, but the zeal with which he belts out shanties is enough to be infectious. Dance and sing with him, please!

Seriously, I cannot stress enough how much this man likes to have a good time. Here's some more in-depth headcanons about him exploiting your musical talents so you both have some fun:

Once you show this man that you like to sing, it's over. Any and every opportunity that arises where a song can be involved, you can be he's dragging you into it.

Y'all are out drinking at a bar? He's dragging you to the dance floor to start shamelessly dancing goofily with you, not satisfied until you're screaming the songs playing around you at the top of your lungs right along with him.

Gatherings with friends? It's inevitable that a guitar or some kind of musical instrument comes out—or, if one's unavailable, making a beat with clapping hands, stomps, etc. so you can all dance around and sing like drunken fools. Some of you probably are drunken fools, because there is no party that Shanks throws that doesn't alcohol, and lots of it.

Trying to do chores around the house? Shanks doesn't get much down with the way he waltzes around with the broom or pretends the duster is a microphone. And if you walk by while he's in his fun mood, watch out, because he's dragging you right into his antics and not letting go until you make his solo performance a duet!

He will definitely look for jaunty piano tunes for you to learn. You don't have to sing along if you don't want to, but he will! Badly. More badly than usual and totally on purpose because he wants to break your intense concentration with laughter. You can never finish a song on the piano because Shanks will have you busting a gut laughing before you even get halfway.

The point is, Shanks just uses your musical interests and talents to make his spontaneous and fun lifestyle even more so! You'd better buckle up, because you're along for the ride!

And, finally, the third part of your Tier III match-up: the drabble! For this, I decided to take inspiration from your love of learning. Enjoy!:

"Fascinating..." you murmur appreciatively to yourself as your eyes sweep down the page of the thick, heavy book in front of you. You're hunched over the library table as if your posture will make you that much more absorbed in what you're reading—as if you can get more absorbed than you already are. You're only dimly aware of the spacious library around you, too busy digesting each and every factoid presented in the astronomy textbook that you've had your nose buried into for the past hour. When you turn the page, you hunch forward a little more, your nose nearly brushing the crisp-smelling pages—and you hear a snort of laughter that yanks you out of your intellectual rapture like a yo-yo being jerked back into someone's hand.

You glance up to see Shanks sitting in the seat across from you. He's got his crossed arms propped up on the table and his chin resting atop them, and he's watching you read with an expression so full of dreamy, starry-eyed adoration that you reflexively blush. You don't know how long he's been sitting there, either, which makes you flush even more. Last you recall, he'd wandered off into the stacks to find something that might occupy his own attention. Of course, that was right before you'd buried your nose in this textbook. There was no telling how much time had passed.

"You didn't find anything to read?" you ask, taking note of the absence of a book in front of him.

"Nope," he quips, and his serene smile widens. "I'm much more entertained watching you."

A shy smile blossoms on your face before you can stop it, and you shyly wiggle in the chair.

"'M not that interesting," you mumble bashfully. You slide down in your chair a little at the crook of Shank's brow.

"I beg to differ," he retorts. "You don't get to see the expressions you make when you read something. But I do, and I like them."

"Shanks..." you start, but you don't know what to say. Not that you could say much with the big, cheesy grin on your face—and you certainly don't know how to stop smiling. The fact that Shanks found your rapturous pursuit of knowledge so captivating made you downright giddy.

Still...

"I hate for you to just sit here and watch me read," you pout. You know that he is more than content to do so—it was he who brought you to the library for your date, after all—but it was still a date, and you didn't want him to sit there without being acknowledged at all. It just didn't seem that fair.

Shanks knew that it would bother you even if he argued otherwise, so he didn't bother. Instead, he waved a hand toward the book before you and said, "Then tell me about what you're reading."

You, naturally, were more than happy to oblige.

"Okay!" you cry delightedly, instantly growing giddy again at the notion of sharing the fascinating things you'd learned. As you began to babble about the various classification of stars, you almost drifted off into that state of being totally unaware of everything around you again—almost. Because you made it a point this time to stay aware of the handsome man listening intently to your excited rant, and you were glad for it.

If you hadn't been paying attention, you would have missed how totally lovesick he looked just listening to you.

Interested in a commission? Check out this post!

#commissions #vannahfanfics commissions #match-ups #one piece match-ups #matchups #one piece matchups

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this-is-where-i-hide-my-bullshit · 1 year

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hey, im the anon that sent the (other) long ask. the stuff on your other blog is fun! and you can definitely see your improvement from then to now. I especially love your sculptures and the potion box you made is so cool.

I second what another anon said about adding lyrics, or maybe some story in the caption to make the art come alive. for example, drawing frank in some speedos would be hot, but adding 'he only goes swimming to stare at lifeguards all day' or something dumb like that turns the art into a character, instead of just frank in speedos. it adds personality to an otherwise flat 2d character. it leaves things to the imagination.

I understand the pressure that wanting to make money from your art puts on you - I want to make money from my writing one day, but I know that in the creative industry it's mostly about luck. I know you've tried Instagram, but have you tried other ways to broaden where you post/the audience you're trying to reach? try posting to twitter for a month, or try making progress posts on tiktok. I know it's shitty, but if you're serious about making money from it you have to throw a lot of shit at the wall and see what sticks. I think looking at what has been successful for you so far and replicating elements from those pieces would be helpful too - what did people say in the tags? what kind of blogs reblogged it? what are other 'popular' artists in the fandom doing?

I know it's so easy to get worn down, and it sounds like you're having a really hard time with this. I'm not your therapist, but I strongly recommend taking some time out of posting if it's affecting you a lot. draw some stuff that you have no intention of anyone else seeing, stuff that you want to keep all to yourself, and see how creating that makes you feel.

you ARE good enough, your art is truly incredible and you've clearly worked hard to get your skill level so high - maybe your posts just need tweaking, or maybe you just haven't found your audience yet. I wish you all the best, and I hope you take this all as constructive ❤️❤️

Thanks.

I don't know about Twitter for the mcr stuff, because the idea of Frank stumbling on all my drawings of him is terrifying. But maybe I could try it with my other stuff, if Twitter doesn't completely fall apart as a website. I've never actually posted on Twitter before so I'd have to learn how exactly it works. And how to avoid the kinda stuff I saw last time I tried checking out mcr stuff on Twitter.

My stuff that does the best seems to be the stuff with some sort of joke or punchline, but I don't know how to be funny on command. I didn't sit down and try to come up with silly ideas, the silly ideas just happened on their own and then I drew them. So if I'm going to try to do more of that then I need to learn how to be funny, without it looking like I'm trying to be funny. Also there's no guarantee that any joke will land, it's a gamble every time. But it at least gives people more motivation to hit reblog.

My problem with comedy is that to be marketable I'd need to be a silly birthday party clown, but I always end up as one of those sad black and white clowns.

I want to try new things, but also there's the fear of "what if this doesn't work? What if I try everything possible and still fail? What do I do then?"

People don't really say much of anything in the tags besides a vague "this is great!", if they even say anything at all. It's hard to guess what they liked about it, if there was even anything in particular they liked and they didn't just reblog it to be nice. It's usually the same few blogs that reblog my work, and I do appreciate it, but sometimes I wonder if I'm not really that good and that's why there isn't a lot of different blogs or blogs that don't already follow me who reblog my stuff.

The popular artists are all drawing Gerard, but I don't think that there's anything I could draw of just Gerard that hasn't already been done better by someone else. I drew Joan of arc Gerard but nobody was all that into it. Probably because I was trying to emulate a specific style from one of my favorite comics and I don't think I did that great of a job. But yeah I don't have any Gerard ideas for drawings, and I'm not a Gerard centric blog so anyone who follows me for that would be disappointed.

I've done little comics with multiple band members but I don't know if doing more of those would help or not. Maybe, but I'd have to come up with ideas. Also it's hard for me to draw Ray and Mikey without accidentally turning then into my brothers because they look similar.

I need to make my drawings less stiff and polished and I meed to be funnier. If that doesn't work then I'll officially be out of ideas.

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scary-senpai · 1 year

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hi dear, Weird Questions for Writers - 26, please??

Hello, wonderful Anon! Thank you so much for your ask—I love talking about characterization. It’s probably the thing I love the most about writing, aside from making jokes.

(Weird Writing Asks is still open--so feel free to drop me a question if you are so inspired! Seriously, it is my love language.)

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

I like to think of myself as a theater kid, even though I don't have any professional training and the bulk of my experience was in high school (although I started taking classes again recently), but I tend to approach written characterization the same way I would if I were putting on a play: I'll revisit the source material, identify and analyze the scenes that the character appears in (as well as other scenes/events influencing those ones), and then work out any gaps in my knowledge and how to fill them.

I don't think of myself actually being the characters, though. I think of myself as a director coaching/negotiating with actors, and these actors sometimes vehemently disagree on how the scene should play out. In writer's rooms, when you're working with a team of people to develop a sitcom or something, it's not unusual to incorporate role-play as part of the brainstorming process (even if it's just the writing team and not the actors who play those characters), especially if the room is deadlocked on how a scene should go.

I have a little bit of experience directing, normally my own pieces written for specific IRL friends, so I guess it follows that I would do something similar with my beloved imaginary friends/fiends. All of my editing notes are written as if I'm working on a team, even though it's honestly just by me, for me. ^_^

Sometimes as a warm up, I'll write a dialogue between myself and the character where I'm asking questions about the choices they've made (usually in canon), and how they feel about them, what the implications are for this that I'm writing scene, etc. Part of this became a very silly fanfic, although occasionally it gets incorporated into the actual work in a more serious way--as actual dialogue, for example.

If I'm stuck on something, I'll go through this exercise a lot. A good example is Collateral Damage--I was having a difficult time getting Charanko and Garou to talk together, but I needed them to have A Moment (TM). So my editing process looked a bit like I was giving rehearsal notes to petulant performers:

Me: okay, so the heart-to-heart scene between you two feels forced and a little stilted. Garou: that's because it is forced and stilted.

Charanko: I'd never cry in front of Garou

Garou: he'd never get the opportunity, because I'd just leave.

Me: hm.... okay, so what if... Garou finds Charanko sobbing alone in the pantry, except this time, Charanko, you immediately hold your breath.

Charanko: why?

Me: because like you just said, you don't want Garou to see you cry, and you can't cry if you're not breathing. Garou is so intrigued by your stupidity that he forgets to be uncomfortable

Garou: I guess that checks.

Charanko: how long do I hold my breath for?

Me: until you pass out. that way, Garou has to catch you--so he just, like, leaves you against the wall and continues doing whatever he was doing in the pantry. and then Charanko wakes up and Garou talks to him--

Garou: nope.

Me: but feel a little bad for him, deep down, and you want to encourage him somehow.

Garou: yeah, but not out loud.

Me: what if... you draw a smiley face on a can of soup and hand it to him?

Garou: what if I throw a potato at his stupid face?

Me: we can work that into act 3. but there's no act 3 if you walk on Charanko, the scene just ends.

Garou: deal.

So I don't really ever fully enter a character's head, because I'm always thinking of them as a separate entity. I do often feel like they're with me, and that impacts how I experience the world--like I'll buy a lot of bananas if I'm thinking about Saitama and Genos, when I was writing the Genos Builds A Gingerbread House part of Holiday Hijinks, I dragged my partner to a baking exhibit, writing scenes with Garou makes me want to practice yoga because it's similar to martial arts, etc. Writing--particularly writing fic--is an escape and a joy for me, so the experience is usually lighthearted and fun.

On very rare occasions, I do get sad--like when I think about Garou's parents, who are my OCs... I think that was the only time I ever made myself cry as I was hashing out a scene. I tend to juggle a couple different projects and if one is bringing me down or putting me in a weird headspace, I'll cycle to a different one.

#ask games #asks #answers #kind anons #my writing

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wigglebox · 2 years

Note

Are you aware the noses on your characters look like gaping mouths? You can barely see the real mouths underneath. The whole clown nose aesthetic is cheap and stupid looking. Your art would look so much better without it.

Okay sorry it took me so long to answer this nonny, I know you submitted it this morning.

The TLDR for you is: I don't care, move along.

However, I have a longer response. I wasn't going to answer this, however, I'm reminded that a younger me would have been very self-conscious over a comment like this. When I was younger, a comment like this would have prompted me to try and change my style to be 'liked' by people who were seeing it. Note, I would try to do this without realizing that I'm changing it for one person, despite many actually liking how I was already doing things.

You ask me if I'm aware my noses that I draw look like mouths, and that you could barely see the mouth? Yes, I was aware of that. There were two people two have made small jokes about that while also saying they liked the art overall.

Indeed, I'm okay with some constructive critique. I have been to art school, film school — schools where critique is needed to help you get better.

So, through this nasty little ask of yours, I did glean that yes maybe I should make the mouths more defined in some instances. I also need to work with color more to make certain things pop and blend. That's a perfectly valid critique, had I actually asked for it.

If you had a concern, worded it differently, "I like your art, it's cute — but I struggle sometimes to see the mouth" then that's not in my face, rude, and telling me that maybe I should adjust.

That's a good little critique.

But for the rest of your comments — you're asking me to care about your opinions, which I don't. Not when presented like this.

Do I have as many notes as other fan artists? No. But I also haven't drawn this much fanart in like, 5 years. And, I have seen other comments about my artwork that makes me smile. It makes me happy knowing that others find my artwork cute and soft. That's what I care about. I'm a fan artist, and the fandom's reaction is really all I care about, the notion if I'm making them happy or feeling emotional while looking at something I create (or write, in other cases). I'm not trying to get into the Louvre Museum.

Some artists want to be serious gallery artists. I do not. I like making art for characters I love, for a fandom I love, for a show I love. That's it.

"The whole clown nose aesthetic is cheap and stupid looking. Your art would look so much better without it."

I had comments like this when I used to draw like this [2015]:

“Why are the noses so red, why are they so skinny??????”

And when I was growing up, I had the same comments because I drew very long necks [2009]:

And then even recently, when I was doodling the last couple of years, I would see tags on reblogs of art like this, wondering why the bodies were so big:

Every style I wandered through throughout the course of my life has a story. Maybe one day I’ll tell you them if you ask nicely and not like you did in your ask right now.

You’re asking me to change how I want to draw to fit your own silly little parameters in your own silly little head. That’s not fair to me or any artist you disapprove of.

Noses are weirdly important to me with art. You say my art would be better without the big honking clown noses I’ve been drawing, but I disagree. It’s the key feature of this style I’ve settled into and having fun with. I like drawing noses. I’ve also always colored them different than the skin tone. Noses sit at the center of the face and I often found it was sometimes the first thing I’d notice in a piece of art while growing up. Any style changes that I went through over the years always saw the noses change first [and always colored them red or pink! except that one example up there but that was a piece with limited color].

You want different options?

I am the artist. It’s my style. It’s my choices. I’m not looking for feeback.

If you have a personal problem seeing the face and not seeing the nose at first, then that’s your problem, not my problem. And the reason why I know it’s your problem is because only two people since I started drawing like this commented and thought they thought the noses were mouths at first, but then happily moved on. Everyone else has been supportive, and I’m grateful for their comments. But no one else has raised an issue. If they had, then I would re-evaluate how I went about things while trying to stick to a style that meant a lot to me.

And, I would hope if there was a deeper problem with my art, people would approach me in a kinder way than you did.

For any and all artists out there who have self doubt and receive comments like this: ignore them.

I know I did not, lol, but I wanted to discuss this for others who may get comments like this and then get very self conscious about their art.

If everyone drew in the same way, created in the same way, did everything in the same way, then the world would be a very very dull place. Draw how you want to draw. It will resonate with the audience it finds. And if some people don’t like it, then I’m hoping they just scoll past and don’t piss in your inbox like this anon did.

I’m going to keep drawing my noses. I’m going to keep drawing the snuggle pictures and other little cute things because I can. It gives me joy. Others have smiled at it.

I suffer from enough self esteeem issues when it come to my writing, but I’ve been drawing way too long to care about someone like you, Anon.

#long post #sorry for the long people #I was going to ignore this #but Lordy #I’m sick of asks popping up every couple of years making fun of how I draw

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seollenda-moved · 2 years

Note

I enjoy reading your content 😁 Would I be able to request twice x reader? Reader gets their wisdom teeth removed and they're still affected by the medication so the members have to deal with chaotic antics?

Alternatively, it could be how the members handle their s/o when they're drunk?

i love the laughing gas idea LOL this ended up kinda more like laughing gas + postop caretaking hcs because twice is soft and definitely takes care of their loved ones with diff love languages

CW: just fluff, brief mention of surgery healing

nayeon:

thinks you’re the cutest and funniest ever, gets extra cuddly because she can’t get enough of you

kinda feeds into/encourages/plays with ur silliness and confusion a little bit (but in like, a responsible way)

records everything to laugh at later

feeds you applesauce and ice cream and sweet smoothies off a spoon, all the definitely healthy wisdom tooth foods (and definitely isn’t taking advantage of the situation to have some of it too)

jeongyeon:

clowns you but also like takes care of you…but yeah totally clowns you as she does so

is concerned about your healing and makes you sleep even though you aren’t sleepy anymore and kinda bored

lets you play games on her phone

generally stays by your side because she doesn’t trust u to like. function responsibly, gets a bit frustrated when your poor judgment defies her advice

momo:

just finds the whole business/dopey you hilarious

is recording and sharing all of it in the member group chat

finds it a great reason to stay home all day with you

won’t let you walk from room to room alone, as if you had surgery on your legs and not your teeth

sana:

thinks you’re the sweetest thing ever, babies you even though you might find it a bit over the top

constantly asking if you’re okay and if she can get you anything

is clingy almost more for herself than for you

is sweet about making sure your morale is up but also gets very serious about taking care of you

jihyo:

ultimate mom mode activate, she thinks you’re silly in like a warm and “oh y/n” kind of way

chases others away from bothering you

her caretaker instincts mean she usually knows what you need (cold pack, warm pack, painkillers, nourishment, sleep) and you don’t dare defy doctor jihyos orders

is very stringent about keeping you on the painkillers scheduled regimen

mina:

did all the careful research ahead of time, read the entire thirty page recovery packet front to back

cant help but laugh at you when you’re dopey, tries to fruitlessly remind you of what reality is

is very gentle about waking you up for your meds and meals and everything to keep up with

plays minecraft pocket edition with you when you’re bored

dahyun:

goofs off with you and generally clowns herself along with you to keep the mood up, indulges all your laughing gas nonsense

gets fussy over you and insists you’re bedridden

is constantly googling answers to questions about how to help you and kinda freaks herself out sometimes because webmd

finds it pretty gross but also demands to check on your surgery site regularly to make sure it’s healing properly

chaeyoung:

just constantly giggling at you, cannot stop laughing at you, has to assure you that she’s not laughing at you (but she definitely is)

has her mellowing effect on you, she’s a good soother just to be around

will do whatever she does in the same room as you, crocheting or drawing or scrolling her phone and listening to music quietly while u doze next to her in bed

wakes you up regularly to keep you hydrated and medicated

tzuyu:

has her game plan immediately on picking you up from the surgery

is kinda taken aback by how silly you get but finds it really sweet and funny

tells you off sharply if you’re not doing the right thing to recover properly

feels bad for your misery and buys your favourite food, cuts it into really tiny pieces so you can enjoy it

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fett-djarin · 3 years

Text

Anything

this bitch done YEET

anyway this is Boba Fett x f!Reader! I had this idea kicking around for awhile and shit finally came together and i was able to get it done!

Rating: 18+

Length: 4.1k

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, canon-typical violence (not in the smut), PiV intercourse, unprotected sex, fingering, riding, throne sex come get yalls juice, multiple orgasms, creampie, spanking, slight cockwarming?, pet names, swearing

NSFW BELOW THE CUT!

Boba Fett was an enigma. He intimidated you, intrigued you--but he didn’t scare you. Boba could be violent, occasionally cruel, but only to those who had earned his ire. You had nothing to fear.

You still remember the day he stormed into Jabba’s palace, a wrathful spectre on a mission. You had been afraid you would be caught in the crossfire, an exchange of possession through violence. But then your chains were blasted apart, scum of men dying around you instead of finding your own demise. Instead of fleeing like the other girls, you dove towards a dropped blaster and levelled it at one of the smugglers putting up a fight. This particular one had been a thorn in your side for a long time. You’d be lying if you said you felt no satisfaction watching him fall lifeless from your well-placed blaster bolt.

“Nice shot,” the woman--Fennec, you had come to learn--commented. You had turned in a panic, pointing the blaster in her direction, her own rifle coming up in an instant, aimed squarely at your head.

“Easy, girl,” the Mandalorian--Boba--had said. “We have no interest in fighting you.”

“If you mean to sell me again,” you spat, “it would be easier to kill me now.” Your fingers flexed on the blaster, and you tried to steady your shaking hands. Fennec’s aim hadn’t faltered.

“Stand down, Shand,” Fett directed the sharpshooter, who immediately lowered her weapon. He then addressed you again. “I don’t deal in flesh.” You slowly dropped your arm. “What’s your name, girl?”

That had been...a few standard months ago, now. Boba ran his syndicate under a tight fist. He had no use for slaves, and had told you you were free, even offered you credits to return home. Some of the others took his offer. You had opted to stay--your birth planet had nothing to offer you, and you did not want to try your luck as a newly freed woman with nothing to your name on Tatooine. You didn’t even have a name, really. You were called something different each time you moved; your birthname was no longer you. That person had died long ago.

“Call me anything,” you had told Boba. “I don’t mind.”

He thought for a minute, and then decided. “Mayen.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of you. The gruff, seemingly serious man had a sense of humor. Mayen--Mando’a for ‘anything.’ His lips quirked in a sly smirk. You liked it. Mayen it was.

“You know Mando’a?” He had asked.

“I’ve picked up things here and there,” you smiled in return.

He later on told you that you could pick your own name, you had no obligation to go by the silly pun he called you. But you had a sense of humor, and actually liked how it sounded. It was a new beginning. You decided you would keep it.

You knew quite a few languages, or bits and pieces you heard over the years. Boba had hired you as a translator, and you accompanied him to meetings with traders, smugglers, and pirates. He didn’t allow any of them to harass you. If they so much as leered in your direction, they tended to lose a few fingers or teeth, either by your hand or his. At Boba’s insistence, you now carried a blaster and a vibroblade. Fennec had been showing you how to properly aim and shoot so you could better protect yourself. He had gifted you the vibroblade as part of your payment.

Yes, Boba Fett was a hard man, but you appreciated his kindness.

His scars added to his imposing figure, and you often found yourself wondering about their origin. What he must have gone through for his skin to be marked so. You also wondered about how stupid some people could be--Mandalorians were legendary warriors, and Boba Fett had some infamy connected to his name, yet fools still picked fights they were destined to lose. His armor impressed you--and the dark stare of the T-visor when he looked your way always had something low and warm stirring in your belly.

It didn’t help that sometimes he would watch while you practiced with your blade. Your heart thundered in your ears the first time he came up behind you, chest to your back, and moved your arms into the correct defensive position. His boot also nudged your stance wider, centering your weight. It’s part of training, you told yourself. You prayed he didn’t notice the heat in your face or the way you refused to look at him. Stars, if you turned your head you could kiss him--

What could you say? He was a handsome man.

Occasionally he offered to spar with you, which was laughable. The first time you had outright refused. “I don’t want to die, thanks,” you said.

“You’re gonna have to face people bigger and stronger than you sometimes, princess,” he said the endearment mockingly.

“Most people aren’t Boba Fett.”

“You’re right about that. Still, come on, show me what you’ve learned.”

Your first fight ended miserably in about three seconds. You gave him a pointed look that said I-told-you-so, and he just shrugged. “Not bad for your first time.” Sparring became regular.

“You’re quicker than me. Use that to your advantage, stay out of my reach. Strike and retreat.”

“Arms up, but keep ‘em close--protect your body.”

“Stagger your stance, distribute your weight. Make it harder for people to knock you down.”

“Move with confidence--this is not the time to falter.”

His words of advice came with each session and stuck. After a few weeks, you could hold your own for a minute against Fett. Then five minutes. Then your sparring was like a coordinated, aggressive dance, blades flashing and deflected, ducking, dodging, weaving, spinning around each other. Once, you had even managed to disarm him, knocking the blade from his hand--you both froze in stunned surprise before Boba recovered and had you pinned to the floor in an instant.

“Very good.” He said from his place atop your legs, pride curling darkly through his voice. “But next time, press the advantage. You freeze, you die.” Now you froze for an entirely different reason--his weight on top of you caused something hot and wanting to smolder in you, his thumb gently stroking the hollow of your throat making your breath hitch. And then he was off you, pulling you back to your feet with ease.

You still couldn’t beat him--you don’t think you would ever be capable of that. The best bounty hunter in the galaxy against you? You much prefer being on his good side.

Boba had just returned from a recent bounty hunt alongside a fellow Mandalorian, having left you and Fennec at the palace. You had been helping her sort through the datalogs and contraband left behind from the previous occupants when he appeared, moving surprisingly silent for such a broad, imposing man.

“Mayen,” he called you, and you looked at him over your shoulder, having been preoccupied cataloguing the contents of the crate in front of you. He was still in his armor, adding to his bulk. The green-painted beskar gave nothing away. “I’ve got a meeting. You’ll be needed. Fennec, I sent you scouting information on the next bounty.”

You nodded, and with your acknowledgment, he turned and strode back towards the throne room. Fennec stood, brushing sand off her pants. “Careful,” Fennec warned. “Keep your blaster close. You never know how these meetings will turn out.” She patted you on the shoulder.

“Got it,” you said, adjusting your tunic so she could see the holster on your hip. It would be the first time she wasn’t there alongside you while Boba arranged deals with crime lords. Sometimes Boba would go in alone, or the both of you would attend. “Trained by the best.”

She cracked a smile at that. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to track down our next target.” She exited the storage room opposite of the way Boba went.

You gathered yourself, then followed after Boba. Entering the throne room was daunting, as the traders he was meeting with were already there and turned to stare. A few of them openly looked you up and down. Your eyes were fixed solely on Boba lounging on the throne, legs spread, seemingly completely at ease and exuding power. You strode past the group of men come to bargain, refusing to look away from the void of Boba's visor that tracked your movement. One of them muttered something as you passed that you couldn't make out, but it had not sounded pleasant. You took your place at Boba's side.

"Boba Fett, the legendary bounty hunter back from the dead," a wiry human man stepped forward, rubbing his hands together. His grin was more of a baring of teeth. "Now that you run this joint, I have a few propositions to consider--"

Since he was speaking Basic, you have to admit, you tuned out. You watched the two Twi’leks that had accompanied him, who kept throwing glances your way, murmuring to themselves. Something about them put you on edge. Of course, you never trusted the people who came to do business with Boba, but you liked this group even less.

You translated for a Rodian bounty hunter when it was his turn to speak. You noticed the Twi'leks and the first human had been getting antsy, shifting from foot to foot and continuing to eye you and Boba. The Twi'leks had never come forward. They spelled trouble. You were tense the entire time, but they reached an agreement and left without trouble.

Boba on the throne was a sight. Your mind wandered, wondering what it would be like to sit on his lap, straddle his strong thighs. You shook your head to clear it as Boba cleared his throat, drawing your attention.

"Go get some rest, little one." And with that, you were dismissed.

You touched yourself thinking of him that night. Imagining it was his fingers instead of yours bringing you to your peak. You bit your fist as you came, muffling your moans and preventing you from calling his name out into the night.

The next day, he had gone out once again. When he returned, you noted his armor had some new scratches, some of the fresh green paint chipped away. He beckoned you forward with a wave, following him to the throne room. He sat with a heavy sigh. You stood before him, waiting for his direction, when he removed his helmet and set it aside. There was a new cut on his cheek, dried blood sticking to his skin.

"You're hurt," you said, stepping forward. Boba grunted noncommittally in response, reaching into a pouch on his belt and pulling out a small container of bacta.

"Use this," his voice was gravelly and he tossed the container to you. He...wanted you to put the bacta on him? Your pulse kicked up. But you would do as he asked.

You unscrewed the lid, swiping your finger through the gel. "What happened?" You asked as you spread it as gently as you could over the cut.

"Those hunters from yesterday," he sighed. "Thought they could catch me unaware out in the dunes. Their last mistake." He chuckled. "This was really the only hit I took," he gestured to the cut along his cheek. You had finished spreading the bacta, but your hand still lingered. You were entranced, being this close to him. Your thumb mindlessly caressed his cheekbone.

"Mayen," he said your name. You met his eyes, the heat in his gaze taking you by surprise. He always had fire and fight in him, but this wasn't like that. It was wanting. Boba grasped your wrist of the hand that still held his face, his other coming up to cup the back of your head.

Then you were kissing him.

You don't know if you leaned down or if he pulled you down or if he leaned up or if it even mattered, all you cared about was his rough lips against yours. When you gasped into it, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. Boba's kisses were all consuming, overwhelming--he demanded all of you, and wouldn't accept any less.

He leaned back, bringing you with him so you had no choice but to straddle his lap or be pulled off-balance. You settled along his thighs, sighing as you could now grind your center against his stiffening member. He nipped your bottom lip, breaking away to press kisses down your throat.

“Tell me, sweetheart…” he murmured, worrying a mark into the delicate skin of your neck.

You whined, rolling your hips against his. His hands clamped down like durasteel around your hips, stilling you. “Tell me. We stop if you say so.”

“I want you, Boba,” you gasped, and he rewarded you with another hickey sucked into your neck. He guided your hips back into a slow grind, thrusting up against you. The layers of clothes between you dulled the sensation, but warm waves of pleasure still radiated through you. You cradled his jaw, bringing his lips back to yours, before trailing your palms down his chest. You pawed at his chestplate and robes, making him chuckle.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he teased you lightly. You squeaked when he pinched your ass. “Take this off, princess.” His hands slid up under your tunic, running up and down your sides before caressing your breasts.

You lifted your arms, helping him slide your shirt over your head. Instinctively, your arms came down to cover yourself, but Boba tutted at you. “Don’t get shy on me now, mesh’la. Let me see you.” He murmured in your ear before lightly nipping the lobe, sending shivers down your spine. He encouraged you to put your hands back on his chest. You whined against him, need building in your core as he undid your bindings and continued to guide your hips in a deep grind.

Boba’s fingers crept along the waistband of your pants before diving inside. You moaned as they landed on your clit. “This wet already? Someone’s a needy little thing.” You felt your face heat at his teasing accompanied by his rough fingers circling your clit built you up even more. You hid your face in his shoulder, grinding against his hand for more of that raw pleasure. Boba suddenly pressed hard against your clit in a tight circle, making you cry out loudly and grip his robes for dear life.

“Boba, please,” you whined, lips tracing his throat, his jaw, wherever you could reach. You brought your own hand down to cup him through his pants, running your hand along his bulge. He cursed lightly in your ear as you gently squeezed him.

“Up,” he said, patting your ass. You stood, taking the opportunity to shimmy out of your pants and panties. He lounged back against the throne, taking in your form. You didn’t cover yourself this time. “Good girl. Come here.” You stepped between his spread knees and he took you by the elbow, pulling you down and turning you so your back was pressed to his chest and your legs were spread by his own. His touch returned to your clit, sliding through your slick folds to tease your entrance. You pressed your ass back against his hardness and he groaned.

His arm banded around your waist as he finally slid a finger into your dripping entrance. You gasped, head falling back to rest on his shoulder. When he introduced a second one, you began to squirm. The stretch was so good as his fingers slid within you, curling and pressing into that perfect spot that sent you soaring. You were practically riding his hand, your hips circling as his fingers moved faster and faster.

“Oh,” you gasped as he added a third, legs trembling. Your hand shot to his where it was locked around your middle, holding you against him, while your other curled up and back, turning his head so you could kiss him. Boba found that spot in you that made you clench tight around him and zeroed in with deadly precision. You felt him grin smugly against your lips as your breathing stuttered. “Boba!”

“Look at you, so desperate for my fingers. Squeezin’ me so tight, sweetheart, can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

You found yourself teetering at the edge of release. You turned your head, burying your nose in Boba’s neck. “Please, Boba, g’nna cum, please--” you gasped out. It was a good thing he held you to him, else you would have been bucking off his lap.

“Cum on my fingers, cyar’ika.”

Your mouth opened in a silent moan as you tipped over the edge of orgasm, cumming hard around Boba’s fingers. Your cunt flooded with wetness, the lewd sound of his fingers thrusting into you becoming even wetter. If he hadn’t been holding you to his chest you would have doubled over with the devastating pulses of pleasure rocking through you from your center. He continued working you through it until you whined, pushing at his hand that still moved between your thighs, need building up in you again.

Boba brought his fingers up to his mouth and you moaned at the sight of him sucking and licking them clean of your arousal. “Taste so sweet,” he said. “Open.” You opened your mouth, and he slid his fingers inside. Obediently, you sucked on them, swirling your tongue around his fingers like you would his cock. Boba groaned. "Dirty girl."

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and you begged. "Want your cock, please, Boba--please fuck me, please--"

"Hush, needy pet. You'll get what you want." He bit your neck, the sharp pinpricks fading into a warm buzz that made you squirm, wiggling your hips on his lap. Boba reached down between you two and shifted himself out of his robes, sliding his cock against your soaked folds. You looked down and Maker, he was thick. You were suddenly glad he made you take three fingers--you hoped you would be able to take his cock.

He rutted against you, his cock sliding through your folds and pulling breathless little gasps from you each time his head nudged your clit. Each slick drag of him against your lips coated his cock in your wetness. Boba evidently grew tired of teasing you, because he urged you up and took hold of the base of his cock, guiding it to your dripping entrance. You moaned at the feeling of his thick tip splitting you open, sinking down the first inch.

Boba's hand came around to rub little circles on your clit, making you jerk against him, his other hand caging you in by your hip. Slowly, he encouraged you to sit back on his lap, the thick drag and push of his cock working inch-by-inch deeper into you. Stars, you felt him in your fucking guts. Your thighs trembled, and when your ass touched his lap you nearly sobbed from how full you felt.

"Look at that," he murmured into your hair. "Takin' me so well, princess. Feels fucking good, doesn't it?" You clenched around him at his words, making him choke off a moan. He rubbed your clit a tick faster just to feel you spasm around him again and he laughed at your high gasp of pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it was too good--that ache, the raw sparks shooting down your legs and up your spine. Shifting the slightest bit pushed him right up something devastating inside you and you couldn't stop the wrecked moan that tore from your throat. Boba gave an experimental thrust and you nearly shrieked and lurched off of him, if he hadn't grabbed a hold of your hips and held you on his lap. You babbled senselessly, too overwhelmed as every ridge of his cock pressed your walls just right. "B-Boba, Boba, move, please--"

His big hand slapped your inner thigh and this time you did wail, the hot sting fading into a pleasant, buzzing warmth. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh hard enough that you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers come morning. Then he lifted you slightly off him, cock sliding only a few inches out, before pulling you down in time with a thrust upwards, burying himself in you with a deep grind. You let out a choked moan, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

"Ride," he demanded. Your breath hitched as you scrambled for purchase, hands going to his strong thighs for support. It was sort of an awkward position, your feet barely touching the floor, requiring you to go on your tiptoes to pull a few inches off his cock. Boba's thick fingers cupped your pussy in a V shape, so every time you rose and fell they rolled against your clit. You couldn't tell if you wanted to push your hips back away or forward for more stimulation.

He slapped your other thigh this time, rubbing to soothe the sting, encouraging you to bounce on his cock faster. Your breath was coming in high, moaning pants as each drop of your hips buried him deep inside you, reaching places you never had and lighting up your nerves like a star gone supernova. Paired with his touch teasing your clit with every thrust, you weren't going to last long.

Boba's hands on your hips guided you faster, rougher--each downstroke hitting deep and holding you there for a second just to feel how full, how stuffed your pussy was of him. His thrusts up as you dropped down allowed his cock to hit your g-spot dead on, over and over. You felt yourself rhythmically clenching around him, heard his groans as your cunt strangled his cock, and you were so close to cumming again. The feeling coiled up at the base of your spine, the pleasure winding tighter and higher and ready to burst.

And then--then Boba hooked his hands under your knees, pulling your legs up so all your weight rested on where he was buried in you, and he slipped another inch further inside. You couldn't stop the sob of pleasure as he held you like this, open for him to take, and he set a punishing pace. The dull slap of skin-on-skin paired with the wet gush of your arousal around him, dripping down his balls and onto the throne, made your head tip back onto his shoulder and wrenched moan after moan out of you.

You were talking, babbling nonsense--begging, pleading for him to make you cum again. Boba tilted his hips just right and you keened as it pushed his cock right against the soft spot along your walls. Each thrust shoved you closer to the edge right until that coil inside you snapped. Your legs shook and your pussy clamped down so hard around Boba's cock that it stunted him to short, shallow thrusts as you rode it out. You distantly heard him groaning, praising you, telling you good girl, good fuckin' girl--you were spasming around him, each jolt of pleasure like a white-hot knife radiating from your core to your toes. Boba kept fucking you through it and you nearly begged him to stop--it was too much, the bite of overstimulation burning your nerves--when he pulled you down, fucking into you as deep as he could and he came with a groan of your name, cock throbbing as his release coated your walls.

Somehow, you ended up turned, face buried in his neck and legs wrapped around his waist as you trembled and caught your breath. His hands trailed up and down your spine and thighs in soothing motions as you came back down. You sighed and cuddled closer to him, the hard beskar plating cold against your bare skin, but it felt good on your overheated body.

"Made quite a mess on me, sweetheart," he said, deep voice rumbling in his chest under your ear. You just mmm'd and clung closer to him while he chuckled. It was true. Your arousal coated your thighs, dripped down onto the throne, soaked Boba's cock where it was still buried in you. Boba pulled his robe around you and stood, supporting you with his hands under your thighs. "Come on, little one, let's go to bed." You closed your eyes as he made his way out of the throne room and through the palace. He didn't drop you off in your bedroom, instead taking you to his and laying you in the spacious bed before stripping off his armor and joining you.

#boba fett x reader #boba x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandalorian #reader insert #no y/n #boba fett x you #boba x you #my writing

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blackwidow-bby · 3 years

Text

By the Poolside - Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Hiya~~ have a little summer fic as a ✨treat✨

I also don’t own Marvel or their characters

Warnings: it’s not too crazy, maybe some suggestive language but keep it 18+

Today had really been a sweltering day. One of those days where you weren't called on a mission and the pool at the tower looked too tempting. When the situation allowed, you loved to sunbathe during the summer. Unfortunately it was your job that rarely allowed it, being a S.H.E.I.L.D. agent. Luckily, you took residence in the Avengers tower where, of course, Tony had to have a pool in place for everyone.

Sometimes you think he had it installed just to make his famous parties more fun, but who doesn't enjoy a nice cool swim from time to time.

As you laid in bed, the temptation continued to call out to you. Your skin buzzing to be outside. What could it hurt to relax the whole day? You got up in search of a good bathing suit that would assure the most sun exposure. Finding an almost revealing black strapless bikini would do, you shed your pajamas and grabbed a towel.

-----

The sun was a lot stronger than you thought, having already began sweating before you finished applying your tanning lotion. Delicately you pulled your hair back into a tight ponytail and and twisted the length into a bun securing it in place.

"Good to see another face. I was starting to think I was all alone in the tower today."

Her voice caught you by surprise, obviously thinking the same, but had immediately comforted you knowing who it belonged to.

"I didn't take you for the sneaky type, Wands, but I guess there's a first for everything."

Wanda had been the object of your desire since you first laid eyes on her. She was visually stunning with her high cheekbones and full lips. Green eyes that practically bore into your soul every time they found your gaze. Her voice was borderline angelic to you, and her accent adorable.

Turning around to look at her caused you to quickly compose your growing desire. She was wearing an all white one piece swimsuit with a low dip in the back and a little cut out on her chest. You had never seen so much of her body before, it really took you by surprise. Wanda's usual fashion sense mostly consisted of t-shirts, pants, and a zip up jacket from time to time. Seeing her in something that hugged all of her curves the way it did, hit all new nerves in your body. You silently held back a groan at the sight.

"Considering I wasn't even trying to sneak up on you, really shows how good of an agent you must be Y/N." she looked you over with a smirk. All you did was give her a playful roll of your eyes.

"Well maybe you can make it up to me by putting some of this tanning lotion on my back. I'm not flexible enough to reach it myself." you gave her a little wiggle of your eyebrows that you doubt she saw as she didn't respond to your playful gesture.

"It's the least I could do." Wanda took the bottle from where it sat on the lounge chair. You watched closely as her nimble fingers gently squeezed the bottle to obtain as much as she thought was enough. Your eyes followed every single movement she made with her hands. Putting the bottle down, rubbing the lotion on her palms...

"I can't put any on your back if your front is facing me." Your face flushed, but you were willing to blame the heat as quickly as possible if need be. You turned your back to her and maneuvered yourself backwards to make it easier for her to apply.

You could've sworn your body almost failed you when you narrowly avoided whimpering when she placed her hands on your shoulder with the lotion that was way too cold for how Wan-...the sun made your skin feel. Her thin fingers worked your skin so slowly and professionally it was as if she took the care of your body more serious than you did. Her electric touch made chills a long term placement upon your arms. When she started to inch lower down your back you almost coughed when she slipped her hands under the band of your bikini top. You had been so enthralled with the young woman behind you that even simple ministrations sent sinful feelings between your legs. You silently thanked both Wanda and your attraction for the lack of thoughts in your mind. The redhead creating a lack of any thoughts or commands to enter just by existing. Certainly drawing a blank with every small touch and rub and dragging of fingers.

Your poor heart was bounding out of your chest as Wanda's fingers got awfully close to the sides of your breasts. Silly Wanda, that's all covered by bikini top, no need to apply lotion there. Controlling your breathing became harder and harder but eventually she moved away from your ribs and ventured to your lower back. A small part of your brain was thankful Wanda cared so much about sun exposure, because she was definitely taking her time and making sure every spot of your back was touched. You let your eyes fall closed for a brief moment until you felt her lean forward.

"Now it's time for you to do me." Wanda whispered very close to your ear, you felt every bit of her words on the shell. The shakiest breath fell from your lips at the abrupt closeness that you fully missed when she backed away to turn around.

It's like your brain was short circuiting at the entire exchange, no thoughts crossing your mind, just trying to find the motor skills so that you could return the offer back to Wanda. Amidst trying to squeeze out some of the lotion on your hand, your eyes caught sight of Wanda lowering her straps down her arms to give you better access to her back. She didn't have nearly as much skin exposed as you did, but the sun is a wrathful star and would fully take any opportunity to burn all those that bare themselves to it.

Your hands were shaking with desperation to attach themselves to her bare back. Any opportunity to touch your crush was enough experience to fuel the thoughts that would come later in the night when you wanted to wind down and imagine a future that may never come to fruition.

Finally your hands landed. You started at her shoulders just as she did you. Her skin was much softer than you expected. Even though she had been exposed to the sun, her back still felt unfairly cool under your touch. You focused on trying to move your hands as gracefully as Wanda had earlier. It must've worked since you heard Wanda let out the softest sigh at your movements, lulling her head to the side like you were rubbing sore muscles. When you thought you applied enough to her shoulders you worked your way down. You couldn't help but notice Wanda leaning her back into your touch, everywhere your hand hit. You also couldn't help slipping your fingers under the hem of her swimsuit, only to cover every inch in tanning lotion, you know...to help Wanda out. But whenever you did, she would shudder and let out a light sound, like she wanted you to hear but was concerned about it happening too often.

"That felt so relaxing, maybe I should make you give me back rubs regularly." Wanda was smirking again at you after she got up from your lounge chair. "You're very good with your hands."

That last comment made you choke. You could swear she was doing everything in her power to fluster you, but why? Could she be interested?

"I don't think it would take much to force me to rub you." Wanda's eyebrows shot up. Did you really just say that? "I- I-I mean rub your b-back or l-like your arms or something is what I meant." Nice save Y/N. You truly thought you saved that situation until Wanda suddenly busted with laughter. It wasn't that funny was it? She must've noticed your confused face cause she started walking up to you very slowly. She took your hand from your side and pulled you flush against herself, snaking her arms around the back of your neck.

"Won't take much for you to rub me, huh?" Oh you were really short circuiting now. Was she into you? Like...really into you? While you were struggling to take in what was happening, Wanda was leaning closer. The closer she got, the wider your eyes went. Her lips came so close to yours but stopped just short of the kiss you only thought of in your dreams.

"You're cute but I like you much better when you're nervous like this." Your brain was still malfunctioning. Not yet caught up to what was perspiring before you. Only one thing playing on repeat, "You think I'm cute?" Wanda giggled against your lips and tightened her hold around your neck finally bringing your lips together. The kiss could've knocked your legs from under you had you not already been leaning forward on Wanda. Her lips were soft and cold against your heated face. She smelled sweet like strawberries and banana boat.

You felt her start to pull away, so reluctantly you followed suit. Her arms remained wrapped around you.

"What do you think?"

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #mcu fanfiction #marvel x reader #reader insert #wanda maximoff

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