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mr-president · 11 months

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i think one of my favorite o’saa character moments (other than the confession booth scene ofc) is the bookstore scene bc there it becomes incredibly apparent how close-minded someone supposedly seeking enlightenment can be, especially regarding emotion/compassion

i say this bc it a) shows just how much of an sad pretentious bitch he actually is (karin LITERALLY calls him a “sad man”) and b) it serves as criticism to those in academia/scholarship in an “apply your politics/philosophies to people sort of way”

like, he criticizes a fucking bookstore as a method of “escapism,” as if the fictional world writers create is completely removed from reality, when in fact fiction and stories have always been a tool to help people understand their reality better. fiction can be raw escapism but it often helps us understand our emotions, other people/cultures, and what’s wrong with a little escapism if it even helps you a little bit? that’s not to say he’s wrong—if you want to understand the world then perhaps it is best to see it for yourself—but o’saa doesn’t consider how not everyone had the same options he did, has his willingness to abandon everything in pursuit of a greater goal.

o’saa wants so desperately to understand the world better than anyone else that he completely forgoes the fact that emotions are just as much a guiding factor in the world as any “magic”/science he studies to further his understanding of it. what he views as “reality” is just one aspect of it; yes, gods do in fact control the world and influence it, but that’s only on the most macro scale. but the mundane, arguably, affects peoples lives even more, and isn’t it worthy to understand that as well?

the confession booth scene shows that he’s capable of understanding the emotions of others, but the bookstore scene reveals that there’s a level of elitism to his beliefs and philosophy.

in other words, though he’s a genius, o’saa lacks compassion.

this can be said for a lotta the enlightened souls that we’ve seen actually—nas’hrah’s a complete bastard, valtei can suck my balls, and enki’s a bitch. only nosramus is quite friendly, and he’s also the only one to figure out true enlightenment on his own.

anyway back to o’saa and the bookstore. all of the other playable characters call him out on his bullshit because stories have the power to help people, change them, or even save them. o’saa, in his mad quest for enlightenment, hasn’t really changed as a person, has he? he himself says in his intro that ever since he left home, he hasn’t felt a genuine emotion. that allows him to see how religion manipulates masses of people, to relentlessly pursue enlightenment without worldly ties—

but the bookstore scene shows that you kinda need “worldly ties” to achieve enlightenment because as nosramus said, the world is constantly changing and enlightenment is not one sudden change. rather, it is continuous, and you have to consider everything.

and i like to think that in that moment, getting shat on by his party members about his shitty literary opinions, he maybe realized something like that.

he doesn’t have a nosramus to anchor his pretentiousness like enki did, but i think a lotta the themes of funter (fear & hunger: termina) is how relationships formulate and change people.

o’saa didn’t need nas’hrah, he needed someone to tell him that he’s a stupid pretentious little shit and to stop drawing himself as a mary sue. and then be his friend anyway and listen to his batshit insane conspiracy theories (that are true).

tldr; he’s like me when i was 11 basically.

#actually i haven’t changed much since i was 11 other than becoming even more gay and annoying #fear and hunger termina #o’saa #mr president’s state of the union address

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gramarye · 3 months

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really really long post where i just talk about johan from yugioh gx thank you

im thinking about johan tonight bc i was drawing him and i wanna talk abt him. bear with me. I REALLY LIKE JOHAN . TO START THIS OFF WITH i have an official licensed johan "WHERE AM I" shirt and i adore it its really funny also i used to have like a johan pin i bought from a german anime store and it was like 8 euros but i shipped it off to my friend who is really really crazy about johan

^johan where am i shirt

anyway johan. jessejohan. i like johan so much believe me he is my nordic scandinavian brethen i just think his writing has issues mainly that he has like no real relationships outside judai and like. i know as a gay person -- i am literally a lesbian In A Lesbian Relationship In Real Life -- that characters will become more likeable when they're queer coded bcuz its Different and its relatable. however i think his writing is kind of really weak and i quote this thing my friend said in 2022 like a lot

HARD TRUTHS TO SWALLOW jesse is a beautiful damsel in distress and his personality outside jaden and crystal beasts is kind of nothing. i love him tho

but the most offensive thing abt it writing wise is like in season 4 when they duel against trueman sorry it was fujiwara. okay i was rewatching gx ages ago and my ex was watching it with me and it was her first time seeing it and shes a literature major and when the whole. "what is the darkness in johan's heart" scene, AFTER IT WAS ESTABLISHED EVERYONE, EVERY STUDENT INCLUDING MANJOUME SHO ASUKA O'BRIEN ETCETC has darkness in their hearts,

my ex goes "if they reveal that he has no darkness in his heart because hes such a special boy im going to be so fucking mad because hes already a mary sue" (HER WORDS NOT MINE she was so mad about johan its funny.) AND THEN THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY DO

like he is literally too perfect. his only flaw is his one (1) time thing about getting lost which is never really brought up again (also its more of an endearing haha funny thing and yes i like it i have a shirt referencing that scene.) and the fact that.. he gets taken over i guess.

i do think the switch around where they bamboozle fujiwara is really funny. it is a funny scene i just wish they literally didn't do it at the cost of "johan is a perfect person without any mental weaknesses when literally every single other character has some flaws" I DONT GET IT!!!

maybe he can just photosynthesize his worries into strength i dont know. does anyone remember that meme

but really like WHAT IS JOHAN WITHOUT JUDAI!!!! why is he literally perfect and above other characters also. why could they not give him any darkness like What possible reason does that serve except me think he is BORING!!!! i do like johan btw as i said i really do. i just think his writing kinda sucks and people are way too nice on johan because he is queer coded but the fact is his writing is really weak. this isnt exclusive to johan ok i also dislike some aspects of jadens writing and asukas and so forth (naming characters i really like to prove my point) I AM CRITICAL this is just. about johan. ok.

and this brings me to the weirdo youtube essayists who only care about s3 and think its the peak of gx and yugioh in general and also. ONE SUCH YOUTUBER. WHO SAID IT IS "HOMOPHOBIC" THAT JESSE IS SOUTHERN IN THE DUB WHICH. WHAT?

you think all southern people all homophobic??? im sorry but i know so many goddamn queer people in thhe south. are you out of your mind. please blow up. LET HIM BE A GAY TEXAN you are just showing your own prejudice literally why did so many gx fans eat up "umm it was homophobic of 4kids to make him southern" they give like everyone accents. he has cowboy boots in his design. its not homophobia hes just southern and southern gay people exist. watch brokeback mountain or something

anway

i think johan is a much more interesting character if you incorporate his manga counterpart into it. like combine him with his anime self and it'd be really fun. his bug enthusiasm in the manga is fun like he has an actual hobby and personality. ADHD bug king

also i think personally they should lean into him being scandinavian more. ITS FUNNY. i think he should try to feed manjoume blodplättar because he looks anemic. he should open a can of surströmming around asuka (canonically very much hates food with strong smells) and she gets so upset she has to like leave the building entirely. she should get into a cultural dispute with o'brien because he thinks carola's swedish cover of mickey is better than toni basil's original

youtube

i think this and like. septembers mikrofonkåt is what he should listen to. swedish pop baby

anyway. i like johan i just think Some of his fans are insane and thats why i need to take him down a peg every now and then . in a loving bully way. also hes very gender to me dont worry about it. also TWO different people have said some variation of the "fuck danganronpa and its fans i hope komaeda marries a woman" post about him to me in different years which is so funny.

anyway yes i love jessejohan. send post

#everyone quoted in this post has been censored for WITNESS PROTECTION #i think i she/herd johan at least once in this post by accident well freudian slip?#anyway come listen to carola's cover of mickey with me right now. ÅH MICKEY ATT DU INTE FATTAR VAD DU FÅR JAG VILL AT DU SKA STANNA VARENDA #tess talks

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fivequartersoftheorange · 2 years

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Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Emily)

Warnings: • DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT • Somnophilia • Non-Con • Implied kidnapping • Drug use • Breeding Kink • Lactation Kink • Daddy Kink • Oral sex • Penetrative Sex • Creampie • Knife play

Summary: Sherlock is pent-up and agitated. Luckily he knows exactly what to do to blow off some steam.

Author’s note: My first foray into dark fic! Will it sink or will it swim? Who knows. Honestly I've been plugging away at this for god knows how long that I'm not even sure if it's good. At this point, everything is just a blur of words.

I would like to thank Anne Rice for inspiring this little trash piece. Have any of you ever read the The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty? No? Well you should. Definitely fucked me up.

I also would like to thank @littlefreya for encouraging me to write this and helping me figure out some things. You're the best babe!

Please Anne Rice's lawyers don't sue me. This isn't a fic of her works. For God's sake I was inspired by it.

Anyway, enjoy! Or not. I can't tell you what to do.

Sherlock took the stairs two at a time. He was on edge, every muscle in his body wired with tension, frenetic energy coiled deep in his belly begging to be released.

He stood at the threshold of her room and admired the delectable sight laid out before him.

Her dark hair spilled over the pillows like ink bleeding onto paper, and her nightgown of loose, gossamer fabric revealed her rounded breasts and the shadow of her nipples. He pulled the heavy damask curtains that shrouded her room in darkness. The late afternoon sun trickled into the room and - he gasped - she was as lovely as a painting, tender eyelids that gave way to long lashes that swept down to her rounded cheeks and dusky rose lips.

She was perfection and she belonged to him.

Depositing himself beside her, he traced her delicate brow with his tongue and the bridge of her nose and made his way to the shell of her ear.

Curious. For she did not stir.

He drew out a dagger he kept hidden within his boot and slipped the blade between her breasts - oh no, he had no patience with these laces and ties and strings - letting it rip through the fabric.

Her breasts were wonderfully plump and firm. And his rough hands pawed at them, cupping each breast, moving them about, almost as if he were weighing fruit at the market.

Her brows drew together into a frown.

Curiouser and curiouser, he thought. For she still did not stir.

Carefully as to not draw blood, he ran the tip of his dagger round and round her nipples until they hardened like berries ripe for the picking. He latched onto them like a suckling babe, and a sudden thought flashed through his head.

Her perfect breasts, round and heavy with milk, her stomach swollen with his seed.

He inhales sharply.

Yes. He should put his baby in her. Stuff her tiny cunt with his cock; fuck her full till she's leaking. Fuck her till everybody knows who she belongs to.

He palms himself through his trousers, knows he is already thick and throbbing with need. But he can wait. He's always been a patient man.

He cut away the rest of her gown and threw it to the floor. Her body was now bared to him, a smorgasbord of delights.

Sherlock ran his hands all over her body, marveling at the young, supple flesh. He caresses her dainty feet with kisses, worships at the altar of her milky, white thighs before his tongue debauches her center.

Like a man starved, his lips latch on to the sensitive nub between her lips. Sucking and lapping at the wetness like it was ambrosia from the gods, skillfully working his tongue until she arched her back and rocked her hips on his face.

A smirk grew on Sherlock's face, satisfaction heavy on his mind at the needy whine that spilled forth from her lips. Even in sleep, her body responded to his ministrations, trained her little cunt so well that she needn't be awake to feel pleasure.

He doesn't waste time undressing, mounts her, parts her legs, grasps himself at the root and runs the blunt head between her lips, coating it in her slick. He sheathes himself to the hilt, growls at the wet heat that engulfs him.

"What a perfect cunt, my Emily. So hot and tight, my darling girl." he rasps, snapping his hips, watching as his cock disappears into her drippy cunt.

Obscene squelching sounds fill the room as he begins to pick up his pace. He places his thumb at the nub of flesh between her puffy lips and draw figure-of-eights. Her reaction is instantaneous; she mewls, mouth in a little moue of distress.

"You like that, my darling girl? Like it when Papa fucks so deep into you?"

He almost wishes she were awake, just so he could gaze upon her face, half-crazed with confusion, terror and pleasure. Sherlock knows he is a wretched man, but the rush of power he feels at her helplessness is a powerful aphrodisiac.

As he feels her cunt tighten at every thrust, Sherlock watches her tits bounce. Soon they'll be swollen and leak milk. A growl rises from him as he envisions his tongue swirling over her nipples, the cloying taste of sweetness at the back of his throat.

"Fuck, Emily. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Her cunt clamps vise-like against his cock, it drives him over the edge. He spills into her; the force of his climax leaves him light-headed. Panting, he thrusts slowly one, two, three more times before he withdraws. He catches his spend pooling out of her abused cunt, scoops it and tucks it back inside.

Sherlock wipes at the sweat gathered at his brow and drags a hand through his curls, fixing himself to a semblance of decency. He gets up and pushes a pillow under her hips, to ensure that he takes root.

He putters around the room, dips a washcloth in the creamware bowl at her vanity, and wipes away their combined fluids on her thighs.

Sherlock looks at the assortment of bottles on her bedside table, picks a bottle and holds it up against the fading light of the sun. Ah, he's almost out. He uncorks it, and five drops of reddish brown laudanum disappear into the glass of water.

It'll calm her when she wakes up.

It'll steady her hand and keep her his pliant, little girl.

#sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x original female character #sherlock holmes fanfiction #sherlock holmes imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill sherlock holmes

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drunkjaked · 2 years

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DAZE ft sim jaeyun

no real plot + smut + 996 words

2nd lo-fis fic.. sue me.. also warning that idk how much sense this makes, love me and the fic anyway please <3

He’s always polite enough to ask, even though he knows you’ll never turn him down, and his eyes burn holes into your own as he looks up from between your legs. “Can I?” Sleep coats his voice when he speaks.

You nod, letting your hand run through his hair, heart full at the way sweet Jake nuzzles his head into your palm.

He’s not sure how he’s gone so long (maybe a minute) without tasting you, though he could look at your pussy all day and he supposes with the folder in his camera roll, he kinda does. He craves it, craves you. So pretty, wet, glistening in the low light of your shared room - the sight enough to make his cock ache between his legs.

The first lick is always his favourite, the taste on his tongue, warm, familiar, you. The first moan he draws out of you - always loud, always Jake. His tongue drags a circle over your clit, slow, teasing, and you can feel him smiling against you as you roll your hips towards him. You take a little longer to talk than he’s expecting but the way you whimper more, makes his heart dip in his chest.

His shoulders are broad between your legs and the sheet is soft against your palm when you bunch it up. Body squirming, consumed in pleasure as he murmurs a sit still, baby against your inner thigh, sucking on the skin there - definitely leaving a mark.

And when those plump lips you love so much wrap around your clit, it’s as if he’s the only thing in the world. There’s a desperation in the way he eats yo-and you didn’t even realise your eyes were closed until he begs you to: watch me - the words burning into your skin as he says them.

The look in his lidded eyes is so overwhelming, and so Jake. He smiles against your slit, looping his arms around your thighs to pull you impossibly close - eating you the same way he loves you: slow, gentle, and sweet, savouring your taste on his tongue.

He pulls away to catch a breath, and he feels his heart rate pick up in his chest when he sees the string of saliva (and your wetness) that connects his mouth to your pussy, the sight almost too much to bear as he grinds against the mattress. And the fitted sheet is soft on his bare thighs, groans slipping past his lips as he ruts against it.

Staring up at you as your body writhes under the ghost of his touch, his hand leaves your thigh to link his fingers with yours - he’s the picture of sweetness with his teeth pressed against his bottom lip, a grin spreading on his face as he lets out tiny giggles.

“I love you.” He whispers. “So much.”

You love him more. And how could you not with the smile on his face? The sheen of your cunt on the tip of his nose. On his plump lips. His chin. “I love you.”

When his lips touch you again, it’s hard to imagine how you’ve ever gone without them.

From your seat at the top of the bed, there’s no missing the way he thrusts into the linen, earnestly rolling his hips and you moan despite yourself when you recognise the way his legs spread slightly as he fucks down hard into the bed. The added sensation only spurs him on and he watches as his spit slips past your clit before pulling it into his mouth. He groans as he sucks lightly, before halting to let his tongue poke at your slit.

The first time makes you gasp, hips stuttering under his hold. The second time, he pushes the tip of his tongue into you, and you flinch at the feeling of his nose nudging your clit when he moves. And the third time makes your back arch off the headboard as his whole tongue slips int-Like that? He asks sincerely.

The sounds in the room are filthy as he laps at your hole, fucking you with his tongue and loving every moment. Desperate whines falling from his mouth and into you from the way the mattress feels underneath him. He grinds down harder, faster, head resting between your legs for a moment as his whines increase in their frequency - hanging in the room like your favourite decoration.

Your thighs twitch around his head as you get closer, and closer, and the way he hums against your skin only drags you towards finishing. There’s not much more to focus on than Jake’s finger pushing into you, and it doesn’t feel like you’d be able to move if you tried. Senses overcome by his hot mouth, his wet tongue, thick fingers, all unrelenting - all you can bring yourself to do is whimper from the stimulation.

He licks you through your shuddering orgasm, lapping at your cum and the taste of you on his tongue undoes him, his hips stuttering against the bed as he leaks into his underwear.

Jake hums in approval as he licks you clean and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue pressing flat over your hole. It’s obvious he’s completely spent with the way he pants against you, face buried in your pussy as he tries to catch his breath.

While he sits back on his heels, you take the opportunity to shift on the bed and lay down, asking him to join you. Under the covers, he rests his head on your chest, humming softly at the feeling of your hands playing with his hair. “My Jakey’s such a good boy, hmm?” You coo though it’s an understatement because he’s perfect.

He agrees with you, words getting lost in a yawn as he rocks his hips a little, the wet patch in his boxers grazing your thigh, and your heart tugs thinking about how in love you are with him and everything he does.

masterlist | other jake fics

#jake smut #jake hard hours #enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #jake sim smut #enhypen jake smut #drunkjaked: daze

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orphanedwolfandfriends · 5 months

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So fellers, I can't promise that this'll be the last post I make about them. They don't fucking listen when they're the reason why nothing's going their way. I may be petty, but blocking, reporting, and IP banning them with the handy dandy statcounter is STRONGLY recommended (if you can afford to anyway, statcounter has a monthly payment thing).

I personally suspect that they have an alt account that none of us are aware of, and I'll say with full confidence that I could be wrong.

I started knowing they existed on account of their dry writing and their godmodding, and after, they'd start to ask a mutual some intrusive and condescending messages on why they're so kind to me. Not my character apparently, me. They don't bother to learn character names and just use URLs to shit talk. They'd ask why there's fanart of my woof child and their muse, which lmao, why's that a fucking problem? Mind your own beezwax. They would also bombard that mutual with asks about their shadowban issue, why can the mutual see other people's asks instead of theirs, and the most the mutual could do was tell them what it means and how they can fix it (which they never did). And as you might've seen earlier, they said me drawing fanart of fictional characters was "weird" and talked about it like it was self insert art I was doing. Self insert art's not even an issue to begin with but yet they took it personally lmao. Perish. Also I wouldn't make my self insert be a fucking child, and the art wasn't even shippy in the slightest.

It got to the point where my mutual blocked them, and they moved onto a Vegeta blog, and really milked that cow dry for how long they'd keep messaging them and whining about them not jivin' with the godmodding, along with complaining to that Vegeta and someone else about everyone making bad comments about their oc. If you look into their blog, you'll see that this person does not have a bio what so ever. Not even in a separate post. So quite clearly they're just expecting everyone to submit to her Mary Sue powers despite the fact we know nothing about them. They even info dumped the same Vegeta through an ask which, dude. Limited text. Look it up.

And then, they would bombard a Raditz rper and bitch about how he's not submitting to their random stranger shit while Raditz accepted a fucking BLT from one of my adult muses, bombard an oc blog like "you're flirting with Raditz, I can tell, your oc's not any better than MINE", AND, try to act like they're such a hotshot at writing, which as you might've guessed, they're not. And they're actively painting themselves in a bad light instead of listening to people and accepting boundaries. They also bugged the shit out of a Beerus mutual, and another mutual who writes ocs, just 'cause the other's muse was just vibin' and giving Beerus food. There's literally nothing wrong with that, yet they'd keep bugging the other mutual with shit like "oh beerus is only keeping you around 'cause you're giving him food, beerus isn't nice blahblahblah".

Do you see a pattern here? They'll get pissy when they don't get any attention from all four of those characters, and send jealous, petty bitch-sounding messages over two friggin children that are just being nice. Imagine being jealous of a fucking child. Actually suck in that shame like a juice box, 'cause that is PATHETIC. Jealousy is legitimately not a healthy thing to have, especially over something like roleplay, and when you actively guilt trip or shit talk them just 'cause of that, that's even more pathetic. And hella possessive. Good luck being possessive when the muns aren't interested in your oc to begin with lmao.

They also chased off somebody after stalking them for a full on year, as I've been told, which from people saying "that explains a lot" when I said who they were, that's...unsettling. Not surprising, but unsettling. And they're suspected to be another individual named Skye. I dunno if that's true but that's why I say "suspected."

TLDR; Please for your own sanity, block @phoenixissims and report them for their harassment. Do whatever you can to keep them far away from you as possible. The Dragon Ball side of the RPC is not the only RPC they've harassed over the years, so it isn't their first rodeo with being annoying and creepy. Do not waste your time with a message.

Now with all that out of the way, phoenixissims, go fuck yourself with a pitchfork, and everyone else? Have a nice rest of the month. I'm going back to my usual tomfoolery.

#outofpuppups #{Negative}#{Callout tw}#Like I said in musecheerios; not sugarcoating shit for this person.#I'll only delete if friends 'n moots ask me to.#But if phoenix tries I'll just laugh. You brought this upon YOURSELF.

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helixol · 11 days

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I like clip studio but MAN does using mobile suck

just rambling/vent about my current irl situation below re: doing art

tl;dr I broke a bone in every limb and my pelvis real bad (7 bones total) from a car hitting me and the US healthcare system sucks. and I'm bored

I finally am able to do more stuff on my own but my bf is still mostly taking care of me 😕 apparently with my wrist injuries I should be able to draw but I won't really get much more flex in my wrist for another 1 month. possibly up to 10 months. which sucks ass

on the bright side my ankle is healed and my knee is feeling better, just not much flexion because my experience trying to get physical therapy has been a nightmare 😑 I should probably be standing assisted atp but it's impossible without the help I'm supposed to have. there's so many stupid rules and stipulations dealing with lawyers and healthcare they just don't tell you about. what I assumed would be "I am proven at no fault so everything is billed to the car that hit me" turns out not to be true when the other party isn't cooperating with their insurance 🙄 but she HAS insurance so we'll probably end up having to sue her directly anyways. cuz my medical bills were well over 500k.

lastly im bored as hell and ordered a tablet to do my art since my fingers feel okay enough to do so. and it got lost in the mail 😑 Amazon said no delivery date so i just asked for a refund. but now I have to figure out what else to do. probably will use my drawing pad at my PC now that we got it set up after moving (since we had to move to a ground floor apartment for my injuries)

like I'm glad it wasn't worse but it was literally one idiot cutting me off at 35mph. literally crossing an area that's over a $300 fine and points on license for even crossing it if you get caught. she didn't even look in her mirror at all before slamming the wheel to the right idk I'm just pissed. rightfully

#helix.txt #sowwy i just needed to type this somewhere I'm still so mad.#this was supposed to be a good year for me.#:|

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arosebyan0thername · 2 years

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im currently hyperficated on other people's ocs. please tell me abt ur ocs 🦉🐔

Hi! I have no idea when you sent this as I’ve been talking about my book on here for a while, but I am happy to oblige, whether or not you are still interested!

So! First is Ella my heart and soul, and honestly kind of a doozy to write about. She’s trans but she spends a lot of the book not out to the people in her life, especially her family, so she’s deadnamed a lot and misgendered even more, which sucks, but the narration will never ever do it. True to the cinderella trope, she’s very nice and sweet and very very very strong and brave. She doesn’t have the typical cinderella story father figure to teach her values, though, she just knows that that is how the world should be. She is doubted by a lot of people and overcoming that and the self-doubt it leads to is a big struggle, but she gets shit the fuck done, don’t you worry. Animals aren’t quite as big a deal with her, she doesn’t have any mice friends or anything, but she does care about animals and the environment more than the average person and it does help her. She’s pretty naive because of the way she was raised (although she has, of course, Seen Some Shit), but very quick to pick up on things, and she adjusts pretty well. I really cannot give a lot about her away without spoiling things, because most of her personality comes from her particular backstory and much of that isn’t revealed until later on.

Ian is my good good boy. He’s the younger of the two princes but first in line for the throne (more on that later), and he is very proud of his role and eager to become king and clean up the messes his country is still dealing with from his shitty grandmother. He is also very proud and defensive of his older brother (not that andrew has much trouble defending himself, physically or verbally). He meets Ella when she’s at a low point in her already troubled life. He is in fact a straight man, so with her not yet out and certainly not passing, it’s not love at first sight, but he does immediately want to help because, again, good good boy. He’s the kind of royalty who knows the names of every single member of the castle staff and he treats them with kindness and respect (I do not endorse monarchies irl but this is a book with magical fairies so I get to make the rules here). His love language is 100% acts of service, which I love for him as the future king, and, once they get there (it’s a slow burn for sure), he practically worships the ground Ella walks on (but in a healthy way. eventually). One of the first things to really draw him to her is that she’s very outspoken about her disapproval of the former queen (aforementioned shitty grandmother) in a way which he just doesn’t normally get to hear. She’s very open and earnest, but not just hostile for the sake of it, you know? Like she actually has opinions and reasoning and isn’t just “fuck queen genevieve because I said so.” She’s also open about her opinions of the current royal family in a way he never ever hears, since she doesn’t know he’s the prince right away. I’ll be honest, most of Ian’s characterization revolves around Ella, he’s almost kind of a mary sue. He does have flaws he’ll address tho don’t worry.

Andrew is maybe my favorite possibly, he’s very great. He’s the colonel fitzwilliam to Ella’s lizzy bennett, they’re absolute besties and I can’t get enough of it. I’m in fact very very defensive of their relationship and its platonicness, and I know i cannot avoid people shipping them but I need it to be very clear that that is distinctly not my intention. They’re very very close, definitely at least almost as close as she and Ian, but like andrew is ella’s man of honor at she and Ian’s wedding, you know? And anyway, he’s gay and she’s a woman so you can’t really ship them without invalidating at least one of them. They spend a few days pretty much alone together when ella first gets to the castle and she really just opens up to him right away; there are things she feels more comfortable telling andrew than ian, and she’s known Ian longer and also is in love with him. Being the older brother, it is his divine right and duty to bully the hell out of Ian, but in a way that they both always know is just joking - he knows very well how to not take things too far. He and Ella actually frequently tag team and just shit on ian relentlessly (bur affectionately, of course), it’s great. He’s also not at all afraid to actually call ian out on his bullshit in ways that no one, not even their father or ella will do. He doesn’t do it in a mean way, but a very flat out and honest way, without sugar-coating. if ian is in the wrong, andrew will tell him “you are wrong and you have to stop.” The position of royal heir was taken from andrew by force, but he grew to learn that he would not want it anyway. He sees how hard it is to have political power and not become corrupt or let it completely break who you are as a person and he wants nothing to do with that; he could never take himself seriously and would never want the pressure of an entire country’s fate on his shoulders (although he would be good at it and he frequently acts as advisor to his father, and later his brother). He is very very proud of his brother, though, and has absolute confidence that Ian will be the best king their country has ever seen.

Madame Louise Bouchard would have been on Dance Moms for sure, and honestly that’s an understatement. I also can’t say much about her without spoilers bc she’s the main antagonist and the driving force for most of the plot, but i do think dance moms sums a lot of it up. She would definitely be a republican; she’s for sure homophobic and transphobic but honestly that’s not even why she’s so awful to ella, shes just a horrible person all around. She has two daughters (who I genuinely have not given enough thought to yet to warrant their own section), Vivienne and Camille, and she loves the image of them :) she loves when people think she’s a good mom :) does she love her daughters? :) good question :) she is a single widow and she does everything she can to make sure she and her daughters have enough money to look good and be seen in high society. She grew up with money and honestly her parents were pretty good to her so idk how she came out the way she did but sometimes people just suck and there’s no reason and thats like,, a major moral of the story. Her husband was like a minor politician iirc?? idk i wrote his backstory a while ago, but he also moved in high society until he mysteriously died of being poisoned disease but that’s never confirmed. and her daughters do love and trust her and follow her lead, not questioning why shes so awful to ella and instead playing along, as they grow up and far past the age where they should be able to recognize basic morality. Like i said I’m not sure of a lot of their specifics bc they haven’t come into any of the parts ive written yet, but basically they have draco malfoy syndrome very bad. Louise also does everything in her power to hide how she treats ella from the public so as not to besmirch the buchard image, but that relationship is very complicated and, again, half of the plot.

Queen Genevieve isn’t even alive by the time the story takes place so there’s not a lot to say about her, other than that she was a bigot and a colonizer and pretty much everyone in the country, regardless of general political views, hated her. She caused a lot of really bad things and also stirred up a lot of distrust in the royal family.

I don’t think I’ve given the king a name yet, but he’s. he tries. He’s not the very best father on account of having been raised by genevieve who was awful, and also having to spend so much time and effort making up for the shitstorm she left the country with when she died, but he does truly love his sons and he wants them to be happy and successful. He’s not a bigot but he’s not exactly like, fresh with the times, either, so some things are a little bit of a battle to get him to accept and be normal about. he’s generally fairly liked, although a lot of people think he’s maybe a bit too much of a pushover, overcorrecting from his mom. He's not an A+ dad, more like a B average probably.

There will be a few more principle characters who I know the general idea of but haven't actually started writing yet (ella has a handmaid, who I've been referring to as Tiffany for the time being, and she's very sweet and 100% rooting for ella and Ian endgame), but those are like the main main cast. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

#personal #ask #anonymous #3lla #ive been working on this for months now #i dont think ive ever spent this long seriously engaged in a writing project #makes me very very hopeful that ill actually see it through and get it finished someday

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whatvflaotsurgoat · 2 years

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Anakin flipping the bird after delivery what Mace believes is single-handedly the worst mission report he’s ever had the misfortune to read in his entire lifetime.

*me shouting at a distance to no one in particular * : GIVE 👏 MACE 👏 WINDU 👏 A 👏 SKYWALKER-FREE 👏 VACATION 👏

(Click for better quality 😚)

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1kook · 4 years

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skirt chasers - drabble iii

this a skirt chasers drabble in case u couldn't tell uhhh here’s i and ii lol

summary; “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?” warnings; alcohol mention, tit sucking, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, uhh making out??? ratings; mature (18+) misc; educational abolitionist!jungkook, drunk jk, mentions of throwing up lol, jk is an anatomy frEAK, more skirts, more jk has questionable kinks wc; like barely 2k

notes; i wrote this in like 40 mins bc i couldn't stop thinking about STIMBO jk from skirt chasers and how cool he is enjoy xxxx also i barely rmr shit from anatomy bc it was the worst course of my life so pls bear with me

His first mistake is getting drinks with the boys. You like to think you know your boyfriend pretty well, know what he’s good at, where he excels, where he thrives, and well. Drinking doesn’t rank too high on the list.

Jimin calls a little past midnight. “Kook’s on the table,” he slurs into the phone, too loud and too sloppy for a Wednesday night phonecall.

“Ha?” you mumble back, rubbing your eyes until you see stars. The room is dark, practically spinning from how out of it you are. Chaeyoung is dead asleep in her room, so even whispering feels like a crime. “Where are you guys?”

Some bar on the south side of town, that strip where all the newly turned twenty-one year olds go to get wasted. Jungkook’s supposed to be studying for some big exam he has on Friday— at least, that’s what he told you —so it takes a few minutes of convincing on Jimin’s part until you’re shrugging your coat on, blindly navigating through your apartment for your keys and wallet. You briefly consider taking an Uber, but ultimately decide you’d rather get stabbed to death on a public bus so at least your family can sue the city afterwards.

Jungkook is indeed on the table, except the table has long since tipped over. So now he’s just sprawled across some dirty bar floor, puppy-soft head of curls spilling over his forehead. He’s so cute, so adorable. You want to kill him. “Up,” you command, channeling the strength of twelve football players to haul your beefy boyfriend off the ground.

“Baby,” he beams, looking at you but not actually looking at you. “I think the alcohol broke my amygdala. Your epidermis looks pretty today— did you use that toner I told you about?”

You don’t even know what that means, can’t even question him, because then Jin is angrily yelling at you to cover his tab. You pay with a stiff middle finger, flail the three dollars in your wallet at him, before sweeping away your poor damsel in distress. “You’re supposed to be studying,” you huff, can’t even be mad when he stops to throw up in a bush outside the bar. You’re so embarrassed, pretend you don’t know him as you pull up the bus times on your phone.

He’s huffy by the time you get on the bus, sniffling against your neck as he cries about his common hepatic portal vein thing— you don’t fucking know.

Chaeyoung isn’t too impressed with you when you bring him home, dump him on the couch while she steals your AirPods from your room. “Explain yourself,” you demand, and his head rolls back.

“I hate school,” he complains, slaps a hand down against his forehead. You’re certain he’s concussed himself this time. Then he’s bending over, head held between his hands. “Wanna cry.”

You sigh, kneeling in front of him. “You’re almost done,” you comfort him, hand on the back of his head. He’s so sweaty, and smells like all his friends colognes at the same time. “You’re smart, baby, you can do this.”

Your words have the opposite effect, because then he’s rocking forward childishly, nearly rams your skulls together and kills you. He’s reached the point of his insobriety where he’s too sad and huffy to think, sadly leaning against your shoulder as if that’ll somehow solve all his problems. You doubt it will, but there’s really nothing much you can when Jungkook reaches this point, so you settle on softly patting the back of his head until the fool is fucking snoring against you.

Chaeyoung blesses you with her divine retribution the next morning by using up the last of your body wash, and then you’re left to deal with a hungover Jungkook on a Thursday morning. You’re pretty sure he had a class that morning, but he wakes up too late for you to even try to convince him to still go, and then he’s moping on your couch in last night’s clothes. You’re getting ready for your internship, blouse half buttoned, pencil skirt wiggled up to your waist.

“Abolish exams,” he mutters, numbly staring at the ceiling as you wipe his face with a cleansing towelette. He doesn’t seem remotely interested in the shower or the pancakes you made, which lets you know this is a much more serious issue than just a drunken episode. “Aren’t they stupid?” You nod. “Sure, test me on every damn thing we’re learning right now as if science isn’t always changing and I’ll have to keep learning anyway.”

He looks over at you, under-eye bags absolutely horrendous. “Tests are stupid,” you agree, and it seems to be exactly what he wants to hear as he sinks into your arms, face buried in your chest. “Too stupid for smarty-pants Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook groans, flops over you on the couch all smelly and gross. “They test you for memorization and not comprehension,” he adds, finally wiggling out of his stinky clothes.

With Jungkook, you can never tell where things are going. One minute he’s cursing the education system and the next he’s kissing along your neck in his rambling fury. “As if I these materials will somehow become nonexistent once I’m working,” he huffs, hands on your thighs. Your breath hitches in your throat, fingers digging into his biceps as he mindlessly kisses down the valley between your breasts. “Shit’s so fucking stupid,” he spits, bunching your skirt around your waist.

“Jeon—“

“I’m just trying to be a fuckin’ pediatrician, for fuck’s sake,” he growls, hastily undoes the front buttons on your blouse. Your black bra comes into view, heart pounding in your chest as Jungkook makes quick work of reaching behind and undoing it, pushing it away, and cupping your breasts in his palms. He guides one of your legs around his waist, tucks it around him as he gets to work raining down kisses on your tits. “So pretty, doll,” he murmurs, pretty pink lips leaving smooches down your chest.

You bite down on your lip, watch through hazy eyes as those big doe eyes flick up at you, tongue swirling around your nipple. “N— Not tired anymore?” you pant, hands in his hair. It’s still dry and knotted from last night’s adventures, but you don’t mind. Not when Jungkook’s hard cock is flush against your thigh.

“Nah,” he confirms, rolling his hips forward against your core. Oh he was horny horny this morning. Or was he angry horny? You don’t care, either way you were winning. “I serenaded you last night, y’know?”

You snort, but it morphs into a whimper when he captures your rock hard nipple between his perfect teeth. “Not a serenade,” you whimper, fingernails running along his scalp, “if I’m not there.”

Jungkook leans back, lets you breathe for a second as he unbuckles the front of his pants, jeans pulled down around his thighs. And of course he’s hard as fuck by now; this was Jeon Jungkook you were dealing with. He could get it up and going in two seconds flat at the mere sight of your collarbones. “You were there,” he insists, capturing your hand in his all romantic like until you’re flustered and shaking him off. He levels you with a cheesy grin, presses your palm against his chest. “Here.”

You gag. “That’s disgusting.”

Jungkook laughs, all squeaky and airy because he’s never given a fuck about looking cool in front of you. His next words only prove your point. “Why? Don’t like being nestled against my left lung and esophagus, all sexy like?”

You roll your eyes, tug your panties aside to give him a full view of what his dorky anatomical talk has done to you. “Dick me down or go away,” you say, pointer finger nudging his chin up when he stares too long

He snaps his teeth at you, almost bites your finger, the fuckin’ weirdo. “Sassy today,” he teases, presses the tip of his cock against you. Both of you groan, watch as he glides himself up and down your folds, angry mushroom head pushing against your clit. “Always so wet for me,” he mumbles shakily, eyes zeroed in on your wet folds and how slick they feel against him. “Didn’t stretch you out again.”

“Yo— You’re mean about that anyway,” you pant, pulling him closer by those firm ass cheeks of his. “I can tell when you’re using me as a reference model.”

Jungkook gasps as if he’s genuinely scandalized by your claim, follows your wordless command and finally lines himself up with your quivering entrance. “I’m a hands-on learner,” he offers, his cheeky smile still on his face until he finally sinks into you and his features twist up all pretty. “Your pussy’s just so pretty, baby,” he grunts, hand on your hip.

Your face feels warm, from the pleasure that rolls over your body and the vulgarity of his words. “Shush now,” you say, try to sound strict and in command, but he’s got his other hand cupping your jaw, looking at you like you’re a goddess and not some dorky college student in their even dorkier internship uniform.

“Temptress,” he mumbles, pushes past your clenching lips until he’s flush against you, your walls spasming around his cock because he just feels so good. “Tried to sneak past me in that tiny skirt.” He draws back, lets his swollen head catch at the entrance before sliding back in, pace slow and sensual, too intimate for some random Thursday morning. “Little doll just needs to be fucked in the morning, doesn’t she?” A pitiful whimper catches in your throat, eyes rolling to the back of your head with every glide of his dick back inside of you.

“N- Not my fault you have naughty eyes,” you whimper, hand coming up to bite at your knuckles as Jungkook continues to fuck you so sweetly. “Fuck.”

Jungkook ducks over you, wavy hair tickling your forehead as his hot breath fans across you. Smells like the mouthwash you made him take and hints of last night’s alcohol. “Can’t help it,” he husks, capturing your lips in his. Sloppy and wet, tongue clashing with yours as he guides you along, hips slowing to rhythmic ruts that have you moaning after each roll.

A few drawn-out thrusts later and you’re coming, body so sensitive this early in the morning, and it certainly doesn’t help that Jungkook looks like that (sweaty and worn, dark eyes watching you writhe beneath him). Surprisingly, it takes him a few more rushed thrusts before he follows, barely managing to pull out in time before his sparkling cum is splattering over your tummy and the skirt bunched around it. “No,” you whine, melting into the couch. “Jeon, this is my only one,” you complain, rubbing a hand over your eyes as if that’ll somehow make your legs work again enough to push him off.

Jungkook says nothing as he tucks himself back into his boxers, chest heaving from exertion as he crashes back onto the couch. “Liar,” he responds after a moment, out of breath and half asleep again. He’s still technically hungover. Hand lazily drawing circles on your knee as you sit up, wiggling your skirt back down. He gives you this indecipherable look. “I hid the other one under your dresser.”

You smack his arm. “Why the hell would you—“

He tackles you back into the couch, presses the stain into your skirt. It must feel gross against his naked tummy, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. “Makes me too horny,” he announces, pout pressed against your neck. “I had a teacher fantasy the other day. Did I tell you?” You roll your eyes, resigning yourself to this new life squashed beneath your boyfriend. “You were my high school anatomy teacher and I failed, so you made me stay after school for supplemental lessons—“

“That’s an abuse of power,” you point out, back to carding your hands through his now sweaty and greasy hair. “And you would never fail an anatomy class, that’s literally your comfort area of study.”

“Listen,” he stresses, lifts his head until he’s peering at you with these humongous Bambi eyes. “You spanked me and—“

“Go get my skirt.”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook fic #bts smut #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #sc universe #skirtverse #mine #skirtfic

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jennagrinsoverml · 3 years

Text

The Closest Thing to Love - Chapter 1

Summary: When Gabriel tells Adrien it’s time for him to learn about the brand internationally, Adrien knows he can’t leave Paris - or Marinette. The two concoct a plan to allow Adrien to stay and finally achieve his independence from his father. They’ll just get married.The only problem is...they’re not actually dating.But that won’t cause any issues. After all, they’re just friends, right?What could possibly go wrong?

Read it on AO3

"Marinette, my lady, bugaboo, light of my life, will you marry me?"

Marinette looks down at Adrien where he kneels at the foot of the dress form she’s working on. She spits out the pins she was holding in her teeth and sticks them back into the pincushion at her wrist.

"That's not funny," she says flatly.

"I'm not joking," Adrien insists, trying to ignore the pang of hurt, even though he knows she has no reason to think he’s serious.

"Right." Marinette rolls her eyes and resumes pinning.

"I'm not!"

"You want to get married."

"Yes."

"To me."

"Sure," he says with affected ease because he can’t very well admit that he’s been dreaming of exactly that for years.

She sighs. “Get up,” she says, and he gets to his feet, feeling foolish. She turns away from her work, giving him her full attention and crossing her arms. "We’re fresh out of lycée, we’re not even dating, and you want to get married?? Adrien, what's going on?”

"It's my father," he tells her, swallowing uncomfortably.

Her face hardens instantly. "What did he do?"

"He doesn't want me to go to university. He wants me to continue modeling and learn the company better and...and he wants me to travel around the world to do it."

"You're leaving?" she asks in a small voice before gasping and grabbing at her hair. "But if you leave how will you be Chat Noir? This is a disaster! You'll have to give up your miraculous and then I'll have to choose a new Chat Noir and then you won't be my partner and we'll never see each other and the new Chat won't be experienced enough and I can’t even imagine being Ladybug without you and Hawkmoth will win and—"

"I'm not leaving!" he bursts in, grabbing her arms and cutting her off mid-rant. He curses inwardly. He knows better. He should've led with that. Gently, he disentangles her hands from her hair, and she allows him to lower them. “I’m not leaving,” he repeats as he gives her hands a squeeze. She squeezes back and he knows that she believes him. "I won't leave Paris—or you. Not with Hawkmoth still attacking. I told Father that I wanted to go to university and stay in Paris with my friends but..."

"He didn't care."

"He thinks I'm exhibiting poor decision-making by prioritizing staying with my friends over my future," he recites. Even though he's not sure the fashion world is his future. Modeling is fine and he's good at it, but he can't do it forever. And the business side of it doesn't appeal to him at all. But no one has ever asked what he wants and Father has never appreciated his desire to go to school.

She gives his hands one last squeeze before letting go and going to sit down on her chaise. "You could just tell him no? You're 18 now, Adrien."

"I'm still just a dumb kid to him,” he says, sitting down next to her.

Marinette's mouth twists unhappily. "But you’re an adult. He can't force you to leave if you don't want to."

"He can cut me off. How will I pay for school or food or a place to live?"

"What? Adrien, you've been modeling since you were a kid. You don't have anything saved up?"

"Some money since I turned 18 but everything from before... I can't touch it," he explains, swallowing uncomfortably. "It's in a trust and inaccessible until I turn 25. Father says it’s for my own good. To keep me from squandering it."

"That - that can't be legal."

"I don't know," he admits, "but what am I going to do? Sue my own father?"

He knows from many years of friendship that that particular expression means that she wants to do a lot more than sue Gabriel Agreste. The thought that she cares enough to be angry and protective on his behalf warms him as it always does.

"How does getting married fix this?" she asks instead of commenting. "Is he suddenly going to care about what you want because we got hitched?"

"Yeah, no." He huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually I think he'll be really angry about it. Maybe enough to get akumatized again." Adrien pushes down the guilt that bubbles up at that thought. As much as he tries telling himself that it's not his responsibility to sacrifice himself to keep his father happy... old habits die hard. He clears his throat. "Maman's family… they're old money . Very old fashioned about it too. A husband should be able to take care of his wife, you know? When Grandmère passed, her bequests to her grandsons were set up as trusts that vest upon marriage."

"So your plan is to marry me, get your money, and tell your dad to suck it?"

"Pretty much."

"Not the worst plan you've had."

"So you'll do it?"

"Why me?" she asks, sidestepping his question.

"Because I trust you," he answers. It’s the truth, anyway, or at least most of it. And the last thing they need right now is his unrequited love complicating things. “Who else would I marry? Who else would even understand why it’s so important that I stay? And besides there’ll be advantages to you too! I’d pay for our housing and living expenses and - and I’ll give you a payout when this is done.”

She sighs. “I don’t want your money, Adrien.”

His heart drops. “You won’t do it.”

“I didn’t say that. This is a lot, okay? I’m trying to figure it out. But you know it’s you and me against the world, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

"What other options have you looked into?"

"What do you mean?"

"Adrien! Don't tell me that getting married was the first and only idea you considered? What about taking out a loan or - or moving in with Nino or, I don't know, getting a job??"

Embarrassment burns his cheeks, but he’s not willing to admit that once it had occurred to him, he’d thought it was so perfect that he’d raced over here without considering anything else.

Besides...

"My contract with Gabriel still has another 3 years in it. It's pretty draconian with the non-compete." He draws idle circles with his finger in the fabric of her chaise.

"Were you even an adult when you signed?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes! This sounds very, very illegal!"

"I don't want to end up in a legal battle with my father. I don't want to keep doing what he tells me to but I don't want to publicly fight with him either."

She sighs. "What about working in a different field? Waiting tables or something like that?"

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and she glares.

"You think he'd sue you for that?"

"Maybe."

"Kitty, that's ridiculous."

He shrugs helplessly. It's not like he doesn't know his father is over the top. Ever since Maman disappeared...and of course after Nathalie... Adrien knows his father is just afraid of losing him too and he's tried so hard to be supportive. But he can't live like this forever and now... his father is forcing his hand. No matter how much he loves him or how understanding he wants to be, he can't leave Marinette to fight on her own.

(Or leave her at all , the little part of him he keeps pushing down whispers.)

(He pushes it down again.)

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, let's get married," she says and he doesn't try to suppress the smile that breaks across his face. Marinette's just agreed to marry him! It won't be real and she doesn't feel the same way about him that he feels about her but she does love him.

"Now if we're doing this, we need a plan."

"You know I always leave the planning to you, my lady."

She rolls her eyes. "As you should. Okay..." she trails off, clearly thinking as her face scrunches up in what Adrien has always thought of as her Lucky Charm Face TM. It's one of his favourite sights in the world and he can feel himself relaxing as he looks at her. If it's one of Marinette's plans, he knows they're going to be fine.

After all, when have any of her plans not worked out?

She meets his eyes. "Anything I need to know before I plan this out?"

I'm in love with you.

"No."

Keep Reading

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #ml love square #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #gabriel agreste's a+ parenting #prpr #fake/pretend relationship #multichapter #wip #accidentally posted this to the wrong tumblr first whoops #jennawrites #closest thing

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neverdoingmuch · 3 years

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now hear me out,,, an au where lan wangji is an editor who works for an erotica publisher and wei wuxian is essentially chuck tingle. (also lwj writes romance novels on the side)

wei wuxian didn’t plan to write erotica he wants to make that really clear, he was actually studying like biomed or something equally “oh wow my parents can brag to the other parents about this”

but, as frequently happens in wwx’s life, he got drunk with nhs, like really drunk and they woke up the next morning with a laptop on the floor beside them and loose paper strewn everywhere

they don’t really remember what they were doing or thinking last night but they’ve both drawn a bunch of really shitty and weird porn (the less said about the anthropomorphic version of wen chao’s pet turtle the better) and wei wuxian has like 20,000 words of an erotica story on his laptop

when he starts reading it, at first he’s like haha what the fuck this is so weird but then it turned out to be really good??? and nhs blushed at some of the ~sexy~ scenes so that’s how wwx knew he was writing the good stuff

anyway they’re sitting there, eating their hangover food and wei wuxian goes so uh my story was good right? and nhs is like yeah it was, top stuff i would buy it and wei wuxian goes what if i actually wrote it,,, haha just kidding,,,,, unless?

and in his defence he doesn’t actually write anything for the story for another like three months but then he finds himself in the middle of exam season and he’s like fuck it stress relief let’s write some erotica

he finishes the book and his exams (which he does well in but whatever) and then spends his summer holidays editing the book

when he comes back, he slaps down a paper copy on nhs’ desk and is like i finished it. nhs, thinking he meant his latest lab write up, opens it up to a random page and starts reading it out loud which was a Mistake

he trails off mid-sentence, and whips around to glare at wwx with all the wrath he can muster. it’s raunchy nhs says and just read it wwx tells him so nhs does

like 2 hours later nhs turns to him and says if it wasnt for you and the librarian staring at me the whole time i definitely would’ve felt something and wwx is like so it’s good? and nhs is like fuck yeah it is but i dont get what you want from me?

pretty much wwx passed out after exams, slept for like 20 hours and then woke up and went i should publish this and decided that nhs should draw the cover art.

nhs agrees of course and a month later wwx self-publishes bc there’s no way he can walk into a publishing house with his porn and not just combust on the spot and he decides to go by the name yiling patriarch

wwx clicks the final button to upload the fic and nhs just toasts him and goes yknow what,, this is the closest you’ve ever gotten to having sex and i’m proud of you

wei wuxian is the man who guarded his first kiss for the first twenty years of his life for someone special,,,, wwx definitely wants his first time to be special and there’s no way he’s putting out for someone he doesn’t think is important & despite having dated before, he’s never gotten close enough to someone to go yeah let’s do it so our boy is still a virgin

so wwx’s entire erotica writing inspiration comes from porn, nhs’ way too in-depth answers as to how his latest date went and uh more porn

wwx blusters about a bit bc how is he meant to respond to that and nhs is like maybe you’ll finally move on from reading those trashy romance novels and read something more exciting and wwx is like how dare you call them trashy!! hanguang-jun is a master of the romance novels!! he understands the heart in a way that no other person has ever!!

and nhs just chugs a bunch of wine and is like yeah hon okay, do you still blush when the main characters hold hands? and wwx is like no! of course not! (it’s a lie, he blushes a lot)

so nothing really happens with the book at first and wwx forgets about it for the most part but then he wakes up one morning and he’s got an extra like RMB 1000 (i dont actually know much about currency so it’s roughly $200 if my quick interneting is legit)

wwx is like wtf? and once he finds out it’s from his novel he’s doubly like wtf? but then he finds out that someone had purchased his book and did a dramatic reading on youtube bc wwx decided that regular erotica was boring and decided to make it satirical or whatever and people loved it??

he’s got nothing better to do so he just goes hm yeah remember that Author i dated who had an “incredible idea that would absolutely amaze The Critics and helped explore his own convoluted mind” let’s make something of that and he writes another book kinda mocking that idea in a very horny way.

he publishes it and someone writes a review of his two books on their blog and now he’s actually starting to get popular - he’s got more money from those two books than he did by working at the local cafe for the whole week

wwx is poor and broke and semi-disowned anyway by this point so he goes fuck it and spends every moment he’s not studying writing erotica.

he publishes another like five books by the time the year is out (i know the maths isnt working here but this is a book world where wwx can just do that via the power of loneliness and friends who egg you on)

also?? he varies his books. some of them are porn parody things a la chuck tingle and some of them are genuine porn and one book was just him writing a recipe book but making it sound as horny as possible

by the time he’s published his like 8th book or so he starts getting reviews that are critiquing his book and most of them boil down to the fact that he needs an editor or something

he ends up asking nhs for help and he’s like oh sweet my brother’s boyfriend works for a publisher who does that sort of thing

cloud recesses actually specialises in erotica and i hate the idea that lqr has spent years reading and editing erotica but sacrifices must be made

(side note that i know nothing about the writing or publishing process so pls don’t judge me too harshly)

wwx goes in with his latest manuscript and ends up arriving like ten minutes late, he rushes into the room sweaty and hot, takes one look at the guy sitting on the other side of the desk, flushes an even brighter red and runs back out of the room. he checks the plaque on the door and walks back in slowly and goes hm i didnt expect you to be so hot

cue lan wangji

lwj has always enjoyed being an editor. what do editor do specifically? idk? edit? regardless, he enjoys it.

while most of the time he’s happy working from this side of things he also likes writing

lwj fucks. he deserves it tbh. but, while he’s had a tonne of one night stands and fuckbuddies, he’s never actually dated someone. so the fact that he’s writing romance novels under the pseudonym hanguang-jun makes his friend jzx laugh a lot

he tried writing porn once and he just couldn’t do it. it was always too clinical or vague and lacked any actual passion bc he was always going oh okay mc sucks a dick but the guy i slept with last week was like a 6.4/10 when it came to sucking dick so maybe mc should also be bad at it or whatever and it just ends up falling apart,,,, but romance he can do

as an editor lwj has pretty high standards for good erotica but he’s really found himself enjoying yiling patriarch’s work even though he’s clearly just been editing himself so when the guy sent cloud recesses an email asking whether they’d be interested in his latest book lwj was ecstatic.

he also didnt expect wwx to be so hot

anyway,,, we now get to enjoy a week of lwj thinking that wwx is super hot but even more annoying and then him deciding that annoying is hot and now wwx is just absolutely amazing and wwx is just panicking the entire time

i want my publisher to rail me so hard wwx texts nhs and nhs just responds has he read the bdsm scene with the alien who has a tentacle dick and a knot yet? and wwx is like no??? nhs just goes shame, it will give him so ideas for if you ever grow a backbone and just ask him out

they publish one book together and nothing happened between them the entire time other than yearning and horniness,, of the heart and body.

when wwx realises this means that he won’t get to see lwj again he immediately writes a new book and like a month later he’s back in lwj’s office, lying on his couch while whining about the cafeteria prices at university

lwj is very enamoured by the fact that wwx is writing erotica and studying biomed bc wow

they do this for like another three books and wwx’s eroticas evolve from here’s a dinosaur man fucking a politician while a mary sue watches on to be like here’s a dinosaur man with black hair and golden eyes and a stern look to his face fucking a politician while a mary sue watches on

and hanguang-jun’s latest book?? i dont want to say that this au’s version of wangxian is hanguang-jun finally finding inspiration to write porn (his muse is wwx of course) and writing the most amazing porn with feelings and plot novel ever,, but it is.

wwx read it five times in the first week and when nhs finally tried to read it he was like uhhh wwx are you a narcissist, the love interest is exactly like you? and wwx is like ??? no???? he’s nothing like me??

anyway one day wwx gets called into lxc’s office and lxc is like so i’ve read your latest book (not the dinosaur man, a serious one with like normal people and not overly humorous thank fuck but still full of lwj yearning) and wwx is like okay? and lxc goes yes, see i was worried that you didn’t care very much for my brother but after reading your book i’m not so sure and wwx gets the weirdest shovel talk ever which is interspersed with like compliments for his porn writing skills

anyway lxc accidentally mentions that lwj writes books too and before he can take it back wwx is like who??? and lxc is like are you fucking stupid?? you told lwj to his face that you loved his books,,, he broke his theme of tender romance to write kinky sex with a character that’s a lot like you and wwx is like .,,,,,,,,, hanguang-jun??? HANGUANG-JUN???!!

lxc barely manages to confirm it before wwx is sprinting out of his office and across to find lwj.

regretfully for everyone else, lwj is in the lobby so thirty people get to hear it when wwx comes in and shouts LAN ZHAN!! back then, i really wanted write porn about you! ... i think i have actually? but i want to write porn about you and i want to be able to do the research to make it accurate! and i also want to go on dates and hold hands and feed each other food! and i love you a lot!

lwj is dying inside bc his brother’s bf is there, his uncle is currently waiting for the elevators and a whole bunch of staff are also there but also wwx likes him??? dinosaur man was lwj??

he goes over and they make out for a really long time right there in the middle of the lobby but no one wants to get between them when they’ve been pining for so long

after that they start dating and they do all the romantic stuff but also,, let’s just say that the next book wwx publishes is a lot more creative than all of his previous books

and they become some writing power couple with horniness of the heart and body and sometimes wwx will be like hey lwj i don’t really know how the logistics of this sex scene will work and lwj will be like we could try it out ourselves? and wwx just pats him on the head and is like im sorry but you dont have enough dicks for it to work ),: better luck next time

#mdzs #modao zushi #wangxian #wei wuxian #lan wangji #im so sorry everyone #i just got the idea and it wouldnt leave me alone #cql #the untamed #mo dao zu shi #have i read any erotica? no. have i read any chuck tingle? also no. am i an editor? no #so this is gonna be very shit #this is why people should be sending me prompts instead of me just writin shit myself #nsfw-ish?

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ljbrary · 3 years

Text

Sicktember Day Three: Chicken Pox

uhhhh yes i know im late sue me

just kidding please dont

aNYway ive already lasted longer than i thought i would doing this so i count this as a win

link to ao3 :)

from this list of prompts

Day Three: Chicken Pox

Title: i’ll watch over you (but who will watch over me?)

Word Count: 1207

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi left the Jedi Temple as a padawan with a master, and came back as a master with a padawan… minus a master. (That small little addendum turned out to be just like the little stones that dig into hands when one falls — it cuts deep enough to draw blood. And, well, perhaps that was a bit of a simplification, but Obi-Wan would rather deal with blood and bruises than the deep ache eating at his heart.)

After being one himself, Obi-Wan was under no illusions that having a padawan would be easy, per se.

He just never thought that it would be this hard.

And maybe it wasn’t -- Anakin Skywalker tended to be an exception to many things, and whether it meant he was exceptional or difficult was anyone’s guess -- sometimes it was both.

And so Anakin Skywalker was difficult -- but he was also exceptional.

Because he was as kind-hearted as he was wild, and unfortunately Anakin Skywalker had the biggest heart of anyone he knew; he was as bright as a supernova and as intense as the cresting wave of a tsunami; he was determined to be better, whatever that happened to mean, and he was persistent enough to stand up even after falling down countless times.

And so little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was many things, and unfortunately little nine-year-old Anakin Skywalker was sick.

“You can’t keep scratching, Ani,” Obi-Wan chided for the umpteenth time in the last hour.

Master Che will have my head, he thought as he once again swatted poor Anakin’s bulkily bandaged hand away from a particularly nasty looking sore on his arm.

“But it itches, Master,” he croaked, sinking back into the sterile sheets of the Halls of Healing in defeat. He’d been stuck like this for the past week, and Obi-Wan could tell that the sores crisscrossing his arms and face weren’t the only thing itching him; the need to move, to do something and to take action seemed to be just as in need of a scratch as the chicken pox torturing him was.

Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, the burning hole in his stomach that had become a permanent resident since Naboo and all that it entailed seemed to sink a little deeper. This was his fault, of course; not much wasn’t these days, it seemed.

Of course Anakin had not gotten his immunizations. He was a slave for kriff’s sake! How could Obi-Wan have been so stupid as to not take this into account? Of course Anakin would get sick; Obi-Wan should have predicted it, should have prevented it. (It was starting to seem like he wasn’t very skilled in the art of preventing things; especially things that hurt other people.)

Obi-Wan released the hand wrapped loosely around the wrist Anakin was slowly but surely inching toward his face before his grip tightened and hurt Anakin any more than he already had; Obi-Wan didn’t think he would be able to bear it if that happened.

Though, then again, he didn’t think he could bear this either, and well, perhaps bear wasn’t quite the right word, because to bear something one has to acknowledge and accept it, and Obi-Wan couldn’t quite bring himself to do that. The only thing he could bear was the stress of a Padawan and all that it entailed, and the tight knot of stress happened to be a great filler for the burning hole sinking through his stomach.

“Come, Ani,” Obi-Wan coaxed. “Drink some water; hydration is important if you want to fight this off, young one.”

Anakin grit his teeth. “I wish I could fight this off, Master,” he lamented, voice scratchy and cracking. “I’d love to take a lightsaber to this.” He cleared his throat. “This is almost as bad as a virus I caught on Tatooine once, but at least that one didn’t itch,” he groaned, shaking his hand out of Obi-Wan’s grip for the umpteenth time as Obi-Wan once again foiled his plans of scratching at a blister.

Quickly, before Anakin could get another go at giving himself scars from scratching, Obi-Wan snatched the glass of water at his bedside table and brought the sloshing liquid into Anakin’s line of sight.

Anakin obediently opened his mouth when Obi-Wan brought the cup of water to his lips, liquid dribbling out the sides and dripping onto the sheets, Anakin unable to hold the glass himself due to the unfortunate addition of bandages wrapped around his hands to prevent him from scratching at his blisters; (they hadn’t worked very well, in Obi-Wan’s opinion; Anakin was a very determined and persistent child, after all.)

Anakin’s energy, although fiery and lively despite his circumstances, was noticeably waning, and soon enough the flickering of his eyes and lack of energy to fight Obi-Wan’s policing of his scratching had him sinking back against the sheets and pillows behind him; until the only thing that told Obi-Wan that Anakin was awake was the loose, bulky grip around his hand.

He looked so… peaceful, on the verge of sleep, Obi-Wan thought; he looked just like Qui-Gon, all serene and a pacified but with the faint undertone of something heavy that was threaded through the muscles of his face and through his aura in the Force.

Obi-Wan’s chest constricted, and he suddenly understood Anakin’s need to scratch his sores all that more vividly; understood the need to get the pain to stop, no matter how, no matter what, even if it just meant more pain in the future, because at least it was satiated for the moment, no matter how many times it came back for more.

Obi-Wan sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head.

Qui-Gon was gone, simply and with no strings attached; no amount of scratching at this searing hole would bring him back, no amount of satiating the sharp sting of loss would ever fully seal the wound it left behind; Obi-Wan had crashed to the pavement, pebbles imbedded in his palms and jagged stone to tear at his knees, and no amount of bandages and bacta would ever heal the scars.

Obi-Wan bit down hard on his lip. Stop this thinking at once! He commanded himself.

He gazed down at his dozing charge.

There are more important things to lend your worry to, he chided himself.

And yes, maybe Anakin did share some resemblance with Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon was not here, and Anakin was; and Obi-Wan was no longer the padawan, Anakin was.

And so Qui-Gon’s memory would always be the scars on his knees and cuts on his palms, but Anakin might just be the bacta to seal the open wounds until they scarred over. And so Obi-Wan might not be forgetting the pain of Qui-Gon’s absence any time soon, but he had a duty to Anakin to make sure this dreadful hole in his chest didn’t eat him any more than it already had.

Obi-Wan glanced back down at the young features of his student’s face; the Qui-Gon-like features.

(He ignored the sharp burn at the backs of his eyes, the tightening of his throat.)

“Sleep well, young one,” Obi-Wan told his sleeping Padawan. “All will be alright, I promise”

(And oh, if only he could promise that to himself.)

#star wars #star wars prequels #Anakin Skywalker #obiwan kenobi #obiwan and anakin #hurt #low key hurt no comfort #quigon #sick fic #sicktember

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damienthepious · 3 years

Text

[a small gentle shout] happee lizz kis tues

could stay right here

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Damien (but only asleep)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Sleep, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, (yes two in a row. SUE ME.), Kissing, Singing, Banter

Summary: He isn't used to sharing a bed, just yet.

Notes: this was. supposed to be like... six hundred words, maybe? (sigh). enjoyy????? I hope? I don't know why i'm suddenly obsessed with Early Relationship One-Shots, but!!! apparently I am??? Heck. Title from the song Cement and Sunshine by Morningsiders!

Arum jerks awake as the bed shifts, a flash of panic gripping his lungs and squeezing-

Attack, he thinks, and then, won't let anyone hurt them. How- who-

Amaryllis.

She makes some small noise, presses her hands against his collarbone on either side, firm and sturdy, and he manages to suck in a breath that does not feel so strangled.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a breathy whisper by his ear as her hands keep him anchored, her thumbs rubbing soothing arcs against his scales. "Sorry, sorry- didn't mean to-"

Arum remembers. Remembers Damien curled against his left arms. He remains an unbothered, unconscious weight as Arum becomes aware of him again, and he remembers Amaryllis waving them off to bed before returning to her pile of five or six books and her recorder, an unmoveable fountain of determination, remembers awkwardly managing to ask- to ask that she join them, when she at last reached a stopping point, remembers her small, fond, knowing smile-

"It- it's- it's alright," he manages in a hiss, lifting one of his hands to curl around her wrist. "I'm alright. I-"

She leans back in the dark, beginning to draw away, and the panic moves, squeezing his heart instead. He grips her wrist more tightly, still careful of his claws despite his muddled awareness.

"Wait," he whispers, and the only reason he does not lean up to follow her is because he refuses to risk waking Damien beside him. "Don't- don't leave, I-"

She stills, and though he knows it is too dark for her vision she looks towards his voice, blinking against the black. She rests her weight on him again, her palms warm on his chest.

"I'm not leaving," she says, very gently. "It's alright, I promise. Let me just grab the blanket, that's all."

Arum has the sense that he should bristle at that, at her gentleness, her comforting tone, but his heart hasn't slowed yet, and his relief is too large to deny. He makes a noise, hopefully enough of an affirmative for her to interpret, and then he releases her wrist so she can lean back and gather the sheets from where he and Damien must have kicked them in their sleep.

She tugs them up over her shoulder and settles against his side with a small sigh, arranging the cloth to cover him as well, and then she leaves one hand over his heart, brushing slowly up and down.

He tries to slow himself down, to settle, to match his breaths to the motion of her hand, and after a few heartbeats it starts to come more easily.

"I'm sorry," Amaryllis says again, her voice a careful whisper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His chest rumbles quietly, a helpless almost-growl, and then he cautiously curls his arm around her, pulling her just the littlest bit closer. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he echoes, low and uncertain. "Jolting awake like that."

"You aren't used to this," she says. "It's okay."

"Used to-" he cuts off, frowning, trying to focus on not letting his rattling growl grow loud enough to wake Damien as well.

"This," she says, her palm pressing down on his scales. "This," she repeats, and then she presses her lips so, so gently to the scales at the crook of his neck.

Arum freezes for half a second, and then his body relaxes all at once, as if she has cast a spell over him with her kiss alone.

She isn't wrong, of course. It had been difficult enough for him to slip into slumber in the first place. Damien had positioned himself draped along Arum's side with a sigh and a kiss and Arum had laid utterly, exquisitely still until the poet drifted to unconsciousness, and then for what felt like rather a long time afterward. When sleep did find him, it must have been a rather fragile thing, considering how easily and violently it broke at Amaryllis' entrance.

"I... I suppose..."

"I mean, I get it. It took me a long time to get used to sharing a bed with Damien, actually," she says, her tone mild, and Arum blinks, glancing down at her musing expression.

"Why?" He frowns, unable to imagine a time- unable to imagine the pair of them at all separate, at all misaligned. They fit together so easily, without any apparent effort, enough so that at times he can hardly believe there was a time he did not know how intertwined they are.

"Because I was too used to sleeping on my own?" Her mouth curls, almost wry, as she traces nonsense shapes on his scales with the tip of her pointer finger. "I spent a long time alone in my hut, and even when I found people to fool around with I didn't usually spend the night. And I'm a really light sleeper in the first place, so it was a big change for me." She shifts slightly, readjusting the arc of his arms curled around her. "He rolled over onto me once, like, the third night we spent together, and I woke both of us up socking him in the nose."

Arum snorts, then holds his breath to keep from cackling a proper laugh. He gulps in a breath after a moment, feeling Amaryllis smiling against his shoulder, and he controls his voice carefully low as he responds. "A rather rude awakening for the poor knight, Amaryllis."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "I felt awful about it, but- you know Damien. He apologized almost as many times as I did. Dummy."

Arum's heart does something unhelpful and twisting beneath the warmth of Amaryllis' palm, and he buries some rather embarrassing thoughts about the spun-sugar sweetness of their poet before he shakes his head.

"Completely absurd," he mumbles, and then, because he knows Amaryllis cannot see him do so, he tilts his head enough to press his snout gently to Damien's curls. Not quite a kiss by their human measures, but... he feels warmer, regardless, when Damien shifts almost imperceptibly closer at the contact.

"What I mean is..." she tilts her head, kissing his jaw this time. "It's alright. It's alright if it takes a while for you to adjust to things, or- or if you decide eventually that you'd rather not share a bed at all, for actually sleeping. That's fine too, that's an answer that's on the table."

"Don't be foolish," Arum grumbles, resisting the urge to tighten his grip. She's as close as she could possibly be, he reasons. The instinct to pull her closer regardless is nonsense. "I want- I would much rather-"

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything just because you feel like you should, that's all."

Arum presses his lips together, torn between gratefulness and indignation, and then he sighs. "I appreciate the... the effort towards clarity. It is not that I don't want the both of you here, beside me, though. I only... I cannot seem to... I am rather vividly aware of you. It is difficult to find rest, while my mind... lingers upon you."

"Ah," she breathes something like a laugh. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I want you here," he says, trying to round off any ambiguity on that subject, and her breath flutters with another subtle laugh. "Clearly I managed sleep eventually. I'll do so again, I'm certain."

"Well," she says, her voice tilting breathier, richer, more warm with sleep, "if you're certain. Saints know I'm too tired to get antsy about it anyway."

With each moment, her weight settles more heavily against him, a more-than-welcome echo of the pressure of Damien's body on his other side, and he feels heavier as well as her breathing begins to slow. She'll drag him down into slumber with her, he thinks muzzily, and he can't suppress a subtle purr as her fingers continue to trace light, tingling lines on the scales above his heart.

"Just want you to be comfortable," she murmurs, and then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You don't get enough sleep. And yeah, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, before you even say anything."

He cuts off his retort before it begins, chuckling low, and he must truly be half asleep again already, because his next words come before he can think better of them, and he is halfway through his next murmuring sentence before he realizes that he is speaking.

"I can't understand how much you both... how..."

Amaryllis waits, drawing her fingers over his scales slowly, slowly, her eyes closed, but eventually when he fails to continue she makes a humming, questioning noise against his shoulder.

Arum swallows, shoring up his nerve since he has already begun to speak- he may as well say this now, while Damien sleeps soundly in his arms and Amaryllis cannot see whatever look is on his face.

"I cannot understand... how much trust you place in me. To... to sleep like this. It feels so... you are so vulnerable, Damien out of his armor, and you- it is so hard to- to understand- to reconcile that- that vulnerability and- to settle my own mind, while you both lie helpless and sleeping beside me. I want to pr- I can't- I cannot shake my awareness of your breathing, your heartbeats, and-"

Her hand stills above his heart; he wonders dizzily if she can feel the way it beats, faster with each passing word. He feels ridiculous- of course he does, he can hardly unravel his own thoughts while they still tangle, only half drawn into his waking mind, and he cannot even say if any of this coalesces into something that makes sense.

She turns in the darkness, unseeing, aiming her face towards his own, and then she trails her hand up from his chest, up his throat until she finds his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and then she turns his face towards her own. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, since she still, obviously, cannot see him, but then she- she angles his head, presses a kiss against his mouth, and then she tilts both of their heads until their foreheads press together.

"You... you're saying you can't fall asleep because you're worried- you're worried about us? About- making sure we're safe."

"I don't-" Arum swallows roughly, nervously, his breath clicking at the base of his throat. "I don't know. I don't know what- what worries me, truly. I know- here in the Keep I know- obviously we are safe, but-"

Amaryllis kisses him again, gentle and warm in the dark, a tender press of lips against scales until his heart slows. She tips their foreheads together again, bites her lip, exhales a long sigh, and then she smiles so, so terribly softly with her palm caressing his cheek.

"And here I was worrying that you couldn't sleep because you weren't used to being so vulnerable," she whispers, and Arum resists the urge to flare his frill in embarrassment. "You- Saints. I- fuck, I could say so many different things right now, but I feel like every single one would embarrass you. I-"

Arum clamps his mouth shut, shrugs very gently with the shoulder beneath Amaryllis, and then he risks nuzzling forward again, gratified when she graces him with another kiss. "Save it for the morning, then," he murmurs. "You can embarrass me plenty when Damien is awake to make that precious wide-eyed expression about it."

Amaryllis shakes with silent laughter against him for a moment, kisses him one more time, and then resettles at his side with a warm, contented sigh.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep again?" she whispers, her breath tickling at the crook of his neck. "I'd hate to think that I..."

"I'm certain that I'll manage, Amaryllis."

"I can... I could sing for you. If you want me to."

Arum glances towards her, a little surprised by the hesitant note in her voice, the hint of something like shyness. "You..." he pauses, swallows, thinks better of simply announcing how utterly enthralling he is by her voice in song. "That would not wake our little knight, you don't think?" he hedges instead.

"I can sing quietly," she complains, her lips drawing together into something like a pout, her nose wrinkling almost too adorably to stand. "And besides, our little knight sleeps like a fucking rock, anyway." She curls closer towards him, nuzzling her nose into his neck, beside his frill with a sleepy growl. "Do you want a lullaby or not?

"Well..." Arum trails off, taking a moment to force the breathlessness out of his own voice. "Well. If my choices while in bed with you are a song or a punch in the nose, I certainly won't complain about the former-"

She gasps, scowls in mock offense and swats at his side as he bites back the urge to chuckle, and then she settles her hand over his heart again, pressing down.

"Oh you just wait, you complete brat-"

"Are you going to sing or not, little doctor?"

"Hush," she growls, pressing her face into his neck. "Hush up and I will. Absolute brat."

Arum breathes another laugh, helpless against it, and then he settles, and after a moment her fingers start drumming a little pattern against his scales. With the rhythm of his heart, he realizes, and then a moment later she begins to sing, soft and husky and mostly breath, close against his neck.

He doesn't expect it to work, truly. She is so present, they both are, his awareness of their heat and their proximity such a vivid tether in his mind, impossible to ignore. Her song, her voice- everything about her is ethereal, stunning, gorgeous, of course, but he does not expect that even that could draw him down, pinned between their fragile resting bodies.

In the morning, though, he will not even remember the second verse.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #aaaaaaaaaaaaa

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 3 years

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Paint My Spirit Gold

Dukeceit Week Day 2: Green/Yellow

Fans of the YouTubers "Deceit" and Remus "The Duke" Sanders start to suspect that maybe, just maybe, the two of them are more than simple internet pals.

AO3 Link: [here]

Word Count: 2187

Warnings: n/a

@dukeceitweek <3

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a watercolor-style painting of a snake. The snake appears to be made of melting chocolate, and there is a large bite taken out of its tail. Cherries and jam are leaking out of the snake at the bite wound. The snake's expression of horror is overly-exaggerated to the point of comedy. The caption reads: "liked your snake boi, @SerpenThyme. thanks for the inspo." /end ID]

A notification ding cut Janus off mid-sentence.

“Wow, someone left their cell phone on, so professional,” he said, giving the camera a dramatic eye roll. That someone was him, of course, because he was the only one in the apartment- just him and the running livestream- but that was no excuse not to be a drama queen about it. He finished wiping flour off his hands and grabbed his phone to silence it; but the notification made him pause. He flicked his eyes up toward the camera and gave a slight smirk.

“My goodness, I’m famous,” he drawled. “The Duke himself has graced little old me with some fan art.”

Most of the comments in the chat wanted him to show it, so Janus opened up Twitter to see the full post he’d been tagged in. It was a watercolor painting of the coiled-snake chocolate sculpture- lovingly named Jake by his viewers- he’d made for his YouTube video last week; it was wearing an expression of such comedic horror that Janus had to stifle a laugh. He flicked his phone screen toward the close-up camera on his counter so his viewers could see.

“How kind of you, Remus,” he said. “All of you should go scold him for what he’s done to poor Jake here.”

Most of his viewers would know he was joking- after all, they were the ones to nickname him Deceit when he provided neither a real or fake name for his online persona. They knew full well what he was like by now.

The oven timer dinged. Janus silenced his phone and set it aside.

“And our first batch of cookies is done. You know, why don’t we show the Duke some appreciation?”

[ID: An Instagram post by user @SerpenThyme. The photo is an artistically-framed shot of a stack of sugar cookies with green, yellow, and pink icing. Propped up against the stack is another cookie, with an intricate icing-drawing of an octopus. The photo appears to have been color corrected to have high contrast, low saturation, and a dark vignette at the edges. The Instagram user @OctoDukie is tagged. No caption. /end ID]

“You know, I have often been accused of actually being a little old lady, what with my fondness for knitted jumpers, rocking chairs, and incredibly fucked up murder mystery books. Today I am doing nothing to dispel this accusation, by making soup.”

The studio was dark and empty aside from Remus' workspace. Everyone else had left long ago, even his own brother, which meant that it was officially ass-o'clock in the morning (or, as most people called it, somewhere between 1 and 2 a.m.) But Remus was stuck in hyperfocus, honed in on putting the last touches on a commission that he'd been putting off for weeks. It's not that it was a tough painting- once he'd gotten started, it was actually a very creatively satisfying piece- but man, executive dysfunction could go suck a dick

“French onion soup, specifically. Because while I do like to pretend I am a classy bitch, I am also, regrettably, a lazy bitch with a distaste for anything that takes longer than one bottle of wine to make.”

Remus hated working in silence. It was stifling, almost suffocating. His brain needed noise like his lungs needed air. So when the studio had grown still and silent, Remus had flipped open his laptop and queued up some YouTube videos.

“So we have here three pounds of onions that we need to slice up, pole to pole. You’re going to cry no matter what, so if you have any memories you’ve been repressing since middle school, now is an excellent time to dredge those up.”

And if it happened to be 90% SerpenThyme videos, well. Sue him.

“Now the first rule of caramelizing onions: fast and sloppy is always better than slow and thorough… at least, that’s what every man I’ve ever slept with tells me.”

Remus choked and glanced over to his laptop screen just in time to catch Deceit's trademark smirk directed at the audience just for a moment. It was the deadpan delivery that always got him. Remus could barely hold onto a joke long enough to get through it without cackling mid-punchline, but this fucker could say the funniest shit like an off-hand comment.

He wiped his hands off on his jeans (what use were clothes if you couldn't use them as paint rags?) and pulled his laptop across the table. He typed out a quick comment, citing the timestamp of the joke, and after it was posted, he shut his laptop.

'Cause ass-o'clock was short for "get-your-ass-home-or-I’ll-kick-it" o'clock.

[ID: A screenshot of a YouTube comments section. The first comment is by user TheDuke, and reads: "10:42 wow, rude." The second comment is a reply by user SerpenThyme, and simply reads ";)" /end ID]

Janus plopped down on the couch with a slight groan. He didn’t need to stream today, but he really hated missing days. Besides… he was fine. Really.

He adjusted the camera until he was happy with the framing, and then checked the settings on his streaming software. Satisfied, he started the stream, and watched as his usual viewers rolled in.

“What do you mean I’m not in my kitchen?” Janus drawled, addressing the chat. He glanced around with an expression of faux-shock on his face. “My goodness, when did that happen?”

He chuckled, and then gestured to his surroundings. “Yes, we are in my living room today. If you must know, my closest and most trusted friend tried to murder me today- yes, Virgil, it was attempted murder and nothing less- and I survived with nary a scratch… and a broken foot, but that is beside the point. Anyway, I’m not allowed to stand for long periods of time, and I may or may not be somewhat inebriated by pain pills and couldn’t stand even if I wanted to. So we are cooking from my couch today.”

Janus paused for a few moments to read the chat messages as they popped up. A few get well soon’s, a few theories about the “attempted murder,” Virgil- who moderated his chat for him- vehemently denying the “attempted murder” but otherwise refusing to clarify the event, and a large volume of wtf why are you streaming today, take care of yourself comments, which made him smile. But one particular comment caught his eye, almost lost amid the torrent of an active chat: wait this kinda looks like the Duke’s living room?

“Oh, VampSuga,” he said, addressing that commenter in particular with a slight smirk. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Anyway, since I can’t reach my oven from here, I thought some no-bake cookies were in order. For these you will need-”

[ID: A screenshot of a Discord conversation. The text reads:

“VampSuga: Ok ok hear me out. Dukeceit.

Starstruck96: who?

IneffableSnek: lmao

FeralBeauYasha: lol

VampSuga: Deceit and Remus Sanders! They’re totally dating. I will die on this hill.

FeralBeauYasha: Isn’t the duke w/ PatPat?

IneffableSnek: no thats his brothers bf

FeralBeauYasha: ohh

VampSuga: Did anyone see Deceit’s stream today? I swear that’s the Duke’s livingroom.

StarStruck96: idk that seems like a stretch

IneffableSnek: no wait i kno what u mean

IneffableSnek: im watching the duke’s old videos and that one where he shows off all his old weapons he’s in a living room kinda like deceit’s

FeralBeauYasha: They were acting all cute on twitter too

VampSuga: DUKECEIT” /end ID]

"Hey guys, been a while since you've seen my face and not just whatever my hands are busy with, when it's within YouTube's terms and conditions I mean. They used to be way more lenient…" Remus trailed off for a moment, then shook his head sharply and plastered on a grin.

"Anyway! In June me and a few other creators did a fundraiser for the Trevor Project, and y'all smashed the goal, so I let you decide what video I'd make this month." He paused, and gestured to the mountain of clothes piled behind him on the bed. "And you had so many juicy ideas to choose from, but you decided to dress me up like a Barbie instead."

Remus paused to scroll through his phone for a few moments. "Ah, ok, here we go. Twitter user YoonIsMyCat- oh, BTS, nice- sent in this first outfit. Uh… future Remus, put up the post here somewhere." He gestured vaguely to his right. "Y'all went with either a fuckton more clothes or a fuckton less clothes, which I respect. Apparently this outfit is called…” He squinted at his phone. “Amish chic? I take it back, no respect at all.”

Remus cycled through the outfits his viewers sent in, which ranged from the aforementioned “Amish chic” to “2008 rave attire” to “ok now you guys are just fucking with me” (which consisted of one of those big puffy snow coats, lime green in color; booty shorts with the shrug text emoji across the ass; fuzzy pink boots; and a yellow cowboy hat to top off the whole thing. It was awful. Remus loved it.) The mountain of clothes on the bed gradually became a mess of clothes spread across the floor instead, until there was just one outfit left.

“Ok so Twitter user VampSuga sent me this outfit that I’m gonna call ‘sexy librarian.’ I couldn’t find this exact sweater online, but-” he paused for dramatic effect, before brandishing a sweater toward the camera like a bullfighter. “My boyfriend had something that was close enough.”

Remus hopped up from the bed and switched off the camera so he could change.

“They’re going to lose their minds,” a voice drawled from the doorway. Remus threw his shirt at him.

“Shoo, I’m getting naked.”

[ID: A Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It features a selfie of YouTuber Remus “The Duke” Sanders, a Hispanic man with his hair dyed green and styled into a spiked mohawk. He is wearing a yellow knitted cardigan over a black button-up shirt. He is grinning widely at the camera. The caption reads: “my viewers pick my outfits! now live on youtube. go see what i look like as a sexy librarian!” /end ID]

DukeceitStan

first and only dukeceit shipper ig

DukeceitStan

wow there’s so many of you now! Hi!!

DukeceitStan

i want this to be canon so bad omg

DukeceitStan

i mean just look

[image]

how

[image]

cute

[image]

[ID: A series of three gifs featuring Youtubers SerpenThyme, aka Deceit, and TheDuke, aka Remus Sanders. Deceit is a black man with long, dreadlocked hair, and vitiligo patches along the left side of his face. Remus is a Hispanic man with green-dyed hair styled into a mohawk, many ear and facial piercings, and tattoos covering both arms. Each gif is edited so that the highlights are tinged yellow when Deceit is seen, and tinged green when Remus is seen.

The first gif depicts a close-up shot of Deceit’s hands as he carefully decorates a cookie with green and yellow icing. The cookie art he is working on appears to be a half-finished octopus. The gif then fades into a mid-shot of Remus, with his back to the camera, facing a canvas. The canvas is blank, and Remus appears to be laying out paints on a table to his left.

The second gif depicts Deceit seated at his couch, facing the camera. He has many ingredients spread across his coffee table (including oats, cocoa powder, and butter) and appears to be in the process of laying out several more. The gif fades to show Remus seated at a similar couch with a similar coffee table in front of him. The camera is angled slightly downward to better show the myriad of knives spread out across the table. Remus is gesturing wildly with a morning star held in his hand.

The third gif depicts Deceit in his kitchen. He is pulling on a bright, yellow knitted cardigan, and smirking toward the camera. The gif fades to show Remus in his bedroom, seated on his bed. He is holding up a similar-looking cardigan toward the camera and grinning. /end ID]

“Remus, it’s almost two in the morning. Come to bed.”

“I’m coming, sorry. Twitter distracted me.”

“Mm. I can’t believe the bird app is more distracting than I am.”

“You should try harder.”

“Come to bed and maybe I will.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming. Hang on though, is it cool if I post this?”

“Sure. They figured it out anyway.”

“Sweet. Ok, Jannie, I’m coming.”

[ID: A screenshot of a Twitter post by user @CallMeDukie. It reads: “Dukeceit is canon.” /end ID]

#dukeceit #dukeceitweek #remus sanders #janus sanders #sanders sides fic #kye writes

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hazelandglasz · 3 years

Text

Nothing To Write Home About

@lilyvandersteen once upon a time you tagged me in a post, saying that I should draw some inspiration from it

Here it is after God knows how long

On AO3

Usually, going grocery shopping with Dan is nothing to write home about.

Well, except for Dan, who seems particularly excited to talk about the “cocoflowers” and the “fissies” he saw in the supermarket to his grandfather, who usually listens far too intently.

Anyways.

This time around, though, Kurt thinks he will definitely be the home telling the story to his father because one minute, Dan was by his side, sucking on his pointing finger while holding the hem of his jacket, and the next, Dan is not there anymore.

All it took for this disappearing act to occur is Kurt reaching up for the good box of mac’n’cheese.

Damn you, Annie’s.

“Dan?”

At first, Kurt is not particularly worried. It’s not unusual for Dan to just wander around, particularly this close to the snacks aisle, and he returns to Kurt’s side the minute he hears his name.

But as the seconds feel more and more like leaded minutes, Kurt feels a cold sweat covering his back.

“Dan?!”

The basket lays somewhere on the floor, and now Kurt is running through the supermarket, slaloming between bewildered customers to find his son.

“Excuse me?”

Someone approaches behind him and Kurt twirls on his heel. A stranger carries Dan on his hip, a small smile on his lips.

Now let’s pause for a moment here, as Kurt’s brain fries just a little bit at the sight of said stranger.

The part of his brain that is not rushing on adrenaline, coffee and worries anyway.

Kurt may be a parent, but he has eyes (and hormones): the man holding his kid looks …

Good.

Very good.

That jacket, which is the same one Kurt is wearing, what a man of good taste for sure, does wonder for his shorter but sturdier figure.

Daddy likey.

Speaking of Daddy, back to our tale.

“Dan!”

Before going to Kurt, Dan pats the stranger’s cheek in a gesture so reminiscent of his own father’s goodbye that he has to bite his lips to keep from laughing.

“Where have you been?” Kurt asks as he pulls Dan close to him. “And who are you?” he adds, turning to the stranger who is, damn him, still smiling at them with a smile Kurt wants to taste.

Since things can and will get stranger, the man holds up his hand like he rescues lost children for a living. “Blaine Anderson,” he introduces himself.

Kurt blinks. And blinks again.

Until Dan whispers in that not so discreet whisper, “Daddy, you’re supposed to fake the mifter’s hand.”

“Oh, right,” Kurt says, going back to his senses, shaking Blaine’s hand.

That’s a nice hand. Kurt likes that hand.

“Kurt. Hummel. And this is Dan.”

“So I gathered,” Blaine replies, his smile widening as Dan wiggles his fingers at him.

Shit, his son is better at flirting than him.

Though Kurt is not sure him grinning and waving at a stranger would be as cute.

“It seems that Dan confused me for you because of our jackets,” Blaine continues, finally--alas--letting go of Kurt’s hand. “I didn’t even realize he was following me out of the store until he pulled on it.”

“Thank you for bringing him back,” Kurt says, rubbing his cheek on top of Dan’s head. “It’s the first time I meet someone wearing the same clothes as me.”

“Not as well though,” Blaine replies softly, his voice warm and melodious.

If there is such a thing as a siren in human form, then Blaine Anderson may be one of them, and yes, Kurt is waxing poetics about a man he literally just met, so sue him.

“Oh.”

“Daddy, you need to fay fank you to Blaine for faying fomefing nice.”

Dan is frowning at Kurt as he chastises him.

“Right, fank--I mean, thank you.”

Blaine’s cheeks turn a discreet shade of pink, no doubt no match for Kurt’s red ones. “No need to thank me for simply stating the truth,” Blaine adds, fidgeting with his grocery bag. “Um. I should--I should get going. Now,” he adds, tapping his finger lightly on Dan’s nose, much to his delight, “you stay with your daddy from now on, okay?”

“Otay.”

Blaine chuckles before looking up, straight into Kurt’s eyes (and heart and soul, and oh, fuck you).

“And you, Kurt Hummel, have a nice day,” Blaine says, his voice seemingly dropping as he, the adorable fucker, winks at Kurt before leaving.

Two thoughts cross Kurt’s mind there and then.

I hate to see you go, but sweet it is to watch you go.

And

Who the fuck winks?!? And why is it so effective???

“Daddy.”

“Yes, mijo?”

“Blaine is weally p’etty.”

“Yes he is.”

“Much more p’etty than Adam.”

“Dan, we agreed not to say his name anymore.”

Dan nods wisely, looking down at his t-shirt before clapping his hands.

In that moment, he looks far too much like Santana when she has one of her master plans for Kurt’s liking.

“We should invite him fo’ a playdate!” Dan exclaims, his smile going from ear to ear.

“A what?”

“A playdate!”

Kurt focuses on not thinking about what kind of games he’d like to play with Blaine--it bears repeating that he doesn’t know a thing about the guy beyond his name, his taste in clothes and the fact that he is not a kidnapper.

Though he wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.

“Get to know him biblically,” his inner Santana cackles, and he hates that she is right.

“You know what, mijo? That’s a great idea.”

“I know.”

“Go get him.”

Kurt lets Dan down on his feet with a little pat to his back.

Dan takes off running, a dimple in his cheek as he focuses on his mission as Kurt picks up the basket and follows him.

Maybe something to write home about after all.

(Santana doesn’t even give him hell for turning their son into a “dark golden retriever”, but she never lets him forget.

Not even at his and Blaine’s wedding.)

#lilyvandersteen #sometimes i write #klaine au #meet cute #dan hummel #fluff

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