#wings fit on these objects so well

[berryicet]

More wings because I am soooooo normal

#inanimate insanity #ii clover #ii nickel #ii test tube #ii mephone4 #ii mephone5 #ii mephone4s #my art #wings fit on these objects so well #it's incredible

[fillinforlater]

On her jeans (Part 3 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Hanni Pham, Danielle Marsh

Length: 4606 words

Tags: Daddy kink, anal galore, blowjob, face fuck, blindfolded, 4some, pearly gates, spitting, spanking, cursing, humiliation, missionary anal, analpie, ass eating, rimming

TW: kinda rough, pure, stupid smut, ass eating, eating cum out of ass

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-

(A/N: the most likely final part of the On her series. This fic is very mindless lmao. Important announcement at the end.)

“Yes, Daddy, that feels so good!”

Hanni’s enthusiasm is almost limitless. No matter how often you’ve ordered her to your office or your apartment or some secluded bed and breakfast, she never let you down. No, the only thing ‘down’ is the momentum of her hips whenever she rides you on the couch, her beautiful ass turned towards you. She loves to make it wiggle when your cock fills her cunt.

You take delight in such a sight and give her the good-girl-spanks she deserves. Hanni craves them as much as she craves your eyes, seeing nothing but love in hers. There is nothing stopping her from leaving, you never demanded the same things from her then you did from Minji. But where Minji lacks endless love and desire for you, Hanni fills these gaps and then some. 

“Oh my God, Daddy, you-you’re gonna make me cum again!” Hanni’s throat is sore from her moans and screams (and the rough face fuck you gave her earlier). “I-I can’t hold it!”

“Why would you hold it?” you ask her and pull her back against your bare chest. “Ruin yourself all over me, you slut.”

You give her thrusts, quick, not too strong and that is all she needs. Her effort was remarkable but in the end she wants you to fuck her over the edge. Hanni’s pussy convulses around your cock, tries to milk it and you are about to give in when your cell phone rings. 

“Fuck,” you curse and pick it up while dropping a powerless Hanni to the carpet floor. “Who is this?”

“Yo, have you turned on the TV?” the person on the other end, some former manager of a group you were interested in, asks. “Today are the MAMA awards.”

“And? They’ve been the same for basically forever. And you know I don’t have any control over—”

“Oh no, another group has won.” You can hear the smirk on his lips. “I bet you’ve heard the song and the group—some of them are under your wings, I assume?”

For a moment you are confused, then it dawns on you brightly. “You could say that,” you respond calmly and look at one of those who are under your wings—though under your cock fits better. “Let me be honest, I did not think that they would make it this far.”

“Their success is unheard of, they must have paid you really well,” he continues knowingly. The kind of business you do is in a paradoxical state of infamously known and also a dark secret in the industry. It’s a tightly knit conspiracy where every wrong step, every wrong turn can cost you basically everything. 

“Maybe they have to offer me something new, a MAMA win does not come around very often.”

#

“Congratulations on your win. I bet this is part of every trainee's dream” Sent by you

“Thank you, Daddy~ It definitely is, but I’m certain we couldn’t have done it without you “ Sent by Hanni

You smirk and scroll through your gallery. There is a picture you’ve saved, a picture of something you want. Some people screenshot what they want from social media apps or shopping sites—you will do the same right now, though your picture does not include a product one can buy. 

“I found this picture of you and one of your friends. She is very attractive.” Sent by you

“I know, Danielle ist so damn pretty <3” Sent by Hanni

“Her prettiness equals probably two MAMA awards…” Sent by you

That should do it. Hanni is probably stunned right now. If Danielle is next to her, she probably looks at her—your terrible influence deeply rooted in Hanni’s mind—and she will see what you see: another object for your desire, another girl you can train to make your personal fuck doll, another idol sold by her bandmate. Unlike Minji, Hanni might actually like the idea. 

You wait patiently as she ponders, typing, then deleting message after message until she settles for a simple text that makes this unhinged, lustful being inside you lose any and all control.

“Daddy deserves his reward as soon as possible. We need just 20 to 30 minutes~” Sent by Hanni

With a victorious sigh, you throw away your smartphone. It audibly cracks on the floor, but you don’t give a fuck. Phones can be bought again, but what you will get, no one can buy. These next twenty minutes will feel like hours and every second beyond that will make you lose your mind. Atleast, that is what you would have to assume if it weren’t for someone suddenly sneaking into your apartment. 

Timid, quiet steps. The person is not wearing shoes. You hear the door fall shut, gently and suddenly, she stands in your doorframe. As if your life was a script, written by a higher being which, for some reason, likes your story to be filled with as much sexual fulfillment as possible, Minji has decided to come visit you. 

“Hello, Daddy,” she coos, catching your gaze with the way she presses her frame against the door frame. Her two piece outfit with all its white frays perfectly merges with said door frame, the warm light making it look like she could disappear in your walls. “I’m sorry for not announcing myself, but may I come in?”

“That depends,” you say, trying to act not-too-happy about her convenient timing. “It’s nice to see you barefooted and in this pretty outfit—but you need to approach the right way.”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Minji gets on her knees. She begins to crawl over your wooden floor and seeing her eager eyes has you riled up. Instead of waiting for her to unbuckle your belt, you open it on your own and let your pants drop when her face reaches your crotch. Minji moans gently and presses her face against the massive bulge in your boxers. She’s not really teasing you. It’s more of a ceremony, because Minji quickly proceeds to pull down your boxers with nothing but her teeth.

“Daddy, it’s so big and beautiful,” Minji says in all honesty, her idol persona washed away by her own horniness. “May I service you with my mouth?”

“Stick out your tongue,” you order and Minji follows. You slap your tip on the exposed wet muscle and watch her faintly smile at how excited you seem. “Looks really good, how could I say no?”

No warning and just a moment later, you are buried to the hilt in Minji’s throat. She gags violently, her head tilted backwards and her wide eyes quickly release a torrent of tears. You don’t comment on it, watch on with a cold, resting bitch face and begin to fuck her face roughly. It’s hard thrust after hard thrust; not too fast though, because you want to see the submission steadily grow in her eyes.

“Fucking good, so much better since you started taking my cock like a premium whore,” you hiss and reach for the sides of her head. She locks eyes with you and through a sea of tears, you can see that she is happy. Still happy. “But it won’t be enough. I need more, another hole, and I’m not talking about your pussy. I know that you are dripping from there, but I’m going to split you open somewhere else.”

You pull out and watch Minji try to catch her breath, shocked, weak; she gets no time to recover however. You grab her hair and slide back into her not-awaiting, but slave-like throat. She takes your pounding even as it forcefully removes her faint mascara and leaves her a drooling mess. It’s Minji’s masterclass in deepthroats—a fitting end, because you will fuck something else today.

After many harsh thrusts, too many to count, but enough to have Minji at your complete mercy, you pull out. She bends over, tries to keep her composure and breathe, but you won’t allow this. She has to look at you and understand what you desire. You slap her face and spit at it. “Don’t avoid me, look at me!” you shout and Minji is tiny. A kneeling tiny bitch who follows your commands. “I will fuck your ass, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Minji cries and puts her forehead to the floor. “Tha-Thank you for the award, Ma-Master. Please, a-abuse my ass.”

Not that it tugs at your heartstrings or anything—but instead of just fucking her in this state of complete devastation, you help her up, to her feet and cup her cheek firmly… almost gently. Minji still sobs, barely able to look up at you.

“You are here to thank me with your ass? That is actually adorable and very thoughtful of you.”

“I-I thought, because Master hasn’t fucked me th-there yet, and because he probably did with Hanni already, I—”

“Oh, I understand, but Minji—” You lean down to her ear and whisper, while your hand travels down her bare midriff into the dress and finds her folds, soaked in arousal. “—we are already past the Master stage. And you underestimate my greed, my desire for more, infinitely more. Don’t worry about that though. Get on the couch and show me your cute little asshole.”

“O-okay. Thank you, Daddy.”

As Minji lays down and wiggles off the bottom part of her dress, you get a bottle of water-like lube from a drawer in the living room table. These bottles are always nearby because situations like this have occurred quite a few times in your life. More than you can count, enough to make you the biggest villain for every girl group fan.

When you pour the lube on your cock, you inspect Minji and her cute posture. She is on her back, legs spread and in the air, while her fingers keep her butt cheeks apart. Her ring twitches and it twitches more when you rub lube all over it. Minji mewls, and mewls some more when you push a finger past the first tightness to lube the inside as well.

“You are a bit stiff, you need to loosen up or else it will hurt.”

“Isn’t it supposed to hurt?” Minji asks in all honesty. “I’m okay with Daddy hurting me, as long as he feels good.”

You have to hold back or else you would’ve laughed at her innocent expression and the confused fear in her orbs. You align your cock with her ass, not to immediately force yourself inside that hot, tight hole, but to teach Minji how to take you well.

“If you relax, Minji, I promise it will feel good. Weird at first, probably too big, but the more you loosen up and let your asshole become a source for pleasure, it will feel great.”

“Hanni probably already knows this,” Minji mumbles in shame. You quickly reach for her jaw and put a chaste kiss on her lips.

“To be honest, I haven’t even fucked her ass before, so stop worrying. Take deep breaths and stay re-laxed.” With those final words, you wait for Minji to follow your instructions—breathe in; breathe out—before you push your cock into her brown hole.

“Oh Daddy, fuck,” Minji groans, right into your face and you love how her hands start to hold onto your back, your arms as you push more cock into her. “You are so, so big!”

“There is still more, but you are doing a great job, Minji,” you respond calmly, lifting up her ass a bit to penetrate her deeper. “Soon, you’ll love this more than anything.”

“Daddy!” Your cock is fully inside her and Minji seems to go crazy, her head thrown back into the couch, her mouth releasing loud moans rapidly. Her anal cavity squeezes you tightly, tries to wring you and it’s insanely impressive. She takes you fully on the first go and slowly catches herself. “I-it feels weird but soooo—”

“Good, right? I can feel you relax, so I will start to fuck you for real now. Congratulations, you’re not a butt virgin anymore!”

Minji weakly laughs and then gasps when you drag your cock mostly out of her ass just to push it back in, deep, to the fucking hilt. You watch as her eyes open wide, then narrow, then close, all in the rhythm of your pumps. Her cunt drips more juice too, she cannot deny the pleasure.

“Daddy, why, why do you feel so good?” Minji screams. “Why, your cock—you made me your butt slut!”

“You’re a natural at this, most of your kind quickly become addicted.”

“Make me addicted, Daddy! Please, use this hole and make me—”

You reach underneath her frayed top and pinch a hard nipple, while your teeth go for her lower lip. You can feel her insides combust, her ass clenching around your cock, her pussy convulsing around nothing, yet it is enough to make her cum. Minji is orgasming from just her ass, but she tries to hide it. 

“There is nothing to be embarrassed about,” you laugh and begin to fuck Minji harder, her ankles in your firm hands. “Cum with your ass and be mine forever. You cannot escape anyways, so why would you want to? Don’t run from the pleasure, because I won’t stop fucking you until—”

Suddenly, you hear a key in the lock of your front door and someone whispering. Then quiet steps. Minji grows tense but you just smile at her, reassure her that there is nothing to be scared off. “Oh, you know these two, don’t worry~” 

“Huh?”

You look up and spot the first girl, Hanni, who smirks when she sees you. She puts a finger to her luscious lips and winks. You get her idea and press your palm on Minji’s mouth to keep her quiet while you slowly thrust into her tight ass. The young girl is visibly shocked that you just continue, but her shock grows even more when she spots the second girl.

“Unnie, this is weird. How long do I have to wear this blindfold?”

“Just a little bit longer~ We are almost there, just a few more steps.”

Hanni guides the blind Danielle, a beautiful, skinny girl dressed in what you assume is a stage or award show outfit. Either way you love how exposed her midriff and collarbone are. Danielle’s skin is flawless and her face looks even better than in pictures or videos.

The two get closer. Hanni is now behind the taller girl and guides her by holding her hips. The two seem familiar with this kind of intimacy. You quietly pull out of Minji’s butt and luckily, she stays quiet in this tense situation. 

“Dani, we have arrived,” Hanni giggles and wraps her hands around her friends’ tiny waist. “I have a present for you, but you have to get on your knees and guess what it is~”

“Unnie, if it’s your pussy again—we already did that! And if you want to fuck, you can just ask!”

You raise an eyebrow at Hanni who is clearly nervous and sweating. She got caught fucking with a second member of her group without your permission. You can’t really blame her. You can’t wait to stick your cock into that tight body and fuck Danielle’s mouth with your fingers. But for now, you let Hanni finish her game.

“This time,” she continues and kisses Danielle’s shoulder. “It’s something different. I have found the biggest, most beautiful cock because I know you would want to suck one of those someday.”

Danielle’s pale skin starts to burn with a deep red. All of her blood seems to go to her face. She starts to lose focus and whimpers a bit, especially because Hanni becomes more touchy, hands on her chest, her tummy, her ass.

“H-how did you know, Unnie?”

“You are really, really bad at hiding your dildo’s, Dani. I found like four of them. One still had your saliva around it~”

Danielle puts both hands to her face and lowers it in shame. Everyone in the room can still feel the glow of her blush through her fingers. You stroke your cock once, amused at the situation, but also tired of waiting. Hanni notices and continues her plan quickly.

“Look, Dani, I’ll show you how to do it.” Hanni lowers herself in between your legs. For the first time, you check out her outfit. Odd, you remember it from some performances a few months ago—does it really matter when she immediately goes to suck you, throat you even? “Oh my, it tastes so good! I wonder why that is?”

You point to Minji’s still exposed asshole and Hanni smirks knowingly. Poor Minji did not dare to move a single inch this entire time but now with Hanni’s loud gagging filling the room, she can stop being quiet and move her hands to cover up.

“U-unnie, are you really sucking it?” Danielle asks the obvious, still in disbelief. “Is it a real one, like, are you sucking a boy?”

Hanni pops you free from her perfect lips and makes sure to taste all of the lube and Minji’s ass from your manhood with her tongue. She cleans you passionately, from sac to tip until you finally give her a bit of precum. 

“Dani, he is a man, a Daddy. Trust me, he is very good looking and his cock is even better~” Hanni’s voice is so lewd, it feels cursed with her adorable visuals. You relish in her compliments and brush her black strands back behind her ear. “Kneel next to me and I show you.”

Danielle kneels down, her small frame taking the spot in between your legs next to Hanni. She is still confused though. “But Unnie, how can you show me if I’m not allowed to remove the blindfold?”

Hanni rolls her eyes and without warning, grabs Danielle’s face and pulls her into a kiss. The younger girl flails in surprise, finds hold on your thigh, but somehow she can’t hold onto it for long. Maybe the thought of a stranger really seeing her like this makes her lose grip on the situation—a good thing in your book.

“Ha-Hanni-unnie!” Danielle shrieks when their lips disconnect. “Why, why did that taste so good?” 

“If you want more, you need to suck and clean his cock like I did. Here, open your pretty mouth and be a good girl for Daddy~”

“You say weird stuff—ugh, hng!”

You groan softly when Hanni not-so-softly pushes Danielle’s face down your cock. A new, sensational throat engulfs you. Of course you expected violent gags and tears coming from behind the blindfold, how could you not. Hanni is literally forcing Danielle to deepthroat you for the first time. Her dildo training seems to have paid off however: Danielle is a lot more composed, measured even and makes sure to keep her teeth off of you. 

Soon, she finds her own pace and bops up and down your shaft, using her tongue from time to time without yet knowing where it actually feels good for you. It’s hard for her to learn when she can’t read your facial expression, so she just guesses and sucks and bops her head. It makes it all the more impressive how she can keep up with you and do a better job than Minji did on her first try.

“Hanni-unnie,” Danielle immediately shouts after getting her mouth off of your dick. “That was very mean of you, like, what the—”

You interrupt the young, angry girl by giving her blindfold a tug and watching it fall off of her dazzling, still flushed features. You smirk down at her as she watches up in awe, her eyes inspecting you like you did to her earlier.

“Oh, he-hello, sir,” Danielle says and tries to be formal while your cock is still on her lips. “I’m sorry we just walked into here and… about this.” She points at your hard shaft which you take in your hand and poke against her soft cheek.

“Don’t worry about it, you beautiful thing. In fact, I should be sorry about this right here.” You point next to you, where Minji tries to cover up her pussy. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“You, you had sex with Minji-unnie? Like, i-in her vagina?”

“Oh Dani,” Hanni coos and puts a hand into Danielle’s red top. “You don’t know how good a real cock feels in your pussy. Way better than a dildo.”

“Stop being so lewd, Unnie!”

“But you two are wrong,” you interrupt them and look at Minji, who valiantly fights through her embarrassment. There is nothing to be embarrassed about though; she did great taking your cock in her ass. “We had anal sex just now, and I think I speak for us both when I say that it was awesome.”

Hanni pouts at the thought of not yet having you in her ass while Danielle is both struck by horror and thrill when she cross-eyes your cock and then switches to look at Minji’s butt, which you uncover for her.

“Minji-unnie, was it really that good?” Danielle asks with wide open eyes.

“Yeah, how was it?” Hanni adds and involuntarily adds pressure for the leader to answer.

“I-it was… the best.”

A moment of silence and awkwardness for Minji until Danielle jumps up and pulls down her black skirt. Another unexpected turn, she seems to be ready to go asap. “Sir, can you—would you have sex with my butt too?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you try to play it cool and reach for the bottle of lube. “Turn around, we need to get you ready.”

“Here, let me help you, Daddy.” Hanni gets a hold of Dani’s ass as soon as she spins around and spreads the cheeks apart. Dani gasps at first, but then giggles when she finds her Unnie to be already naked. She starts to kiss Hanni’s skin while you put the nozzle to her beautiful, clean ring and push lube inside. Danielle shudders while Hanni looks on with jealousy. It will be her turn soon enough though. 

“You have a gorgeous body, Dani,” you compliment her before grabbing her waist and pulling her onto you. “You are so light, I think I need to try a new position with you. Are you down for that?”

“Sir, I—if it’s not too crazy, I think I can do it. But remember, this is my first time.”

“You have to be relaxed, Dani,” Minji suddenly adds and stands next to her, not covering her private parts anymore. “If you are tense, it’s going to hurt—when you are loose however, Daddy can fuck you so good, it will feel like heaven.”

“O-okay then, I think I’m ready.”

You nod and lay down on the couch, Danielle on top of you. She rests her back on your strong chest and your hard cock searches for her tight asshole. Luckily, Hanni is there to help align your tip with it (not before sucking it of course). Dani takes deep breaths instinctively and with your primal instinct to fuck, your cockhead disappears in her ass.

“Oh fuck, that looks so hot!” Hanni coos.

“Stop staring, please,” Danielle whimpers and you feel her incredible texture convulse around your aroused phallus. No, she definitely gets turned on by this, so you’ll make it even better.

“Hanni, keep staring,” you order. “Oh, and make your mouth useful on my ass. See it as punishment for having sex with Dani without my permission.”

“Yes, Daddy, I’m sorry Daddy.”

“Sir, isn’t this too lewd?” Dani asks while you begin to rock her thin body up and down your cock like it’s a fleshlight. 

“Minji, how about you lick Danielle’s pussy. Make yourself familiar with it.”

“Yes, Daddy, she tastes really sweet and is quite… wet.” Minji smiles and you get what she means. Her mouth is promptly on Dani’s clit and now the two are moaning in unison. Your thrusts into Dani’s ass become harder.

“Oh dang, so much in my a-a—, I mean butt,” she whispers and you look at her face. “Sir, you are one lewd bast— person. Making young girls do this stuff. Aren’t you a bit too old for us?”

“Maybe that is why they call me Daddy,” you respond, the humor lost because your expression remains stern even through the pleasure. “Don’t hold back, curse as much as you want. This is no tv show or live stage. Get used to this cock, because I won’t stop after this one time.”

“I won’t either, you fucking bastard.”

Your lips meet in a haze, then you decide to give it your all. You fuck Dani hard, force more and more curse words out of her good-girl-mouth. Her cunt is forced against Minji’s eager lips, while you make sure Hanni is covered in your musk—though she kinda seems to enjoy serving your ass. Even after all this, she might still be the best baby girl out of this trio.

“Yes, fuck, yes, you fill my tiny ass so good! Fuck me with your big fat cock, give me that cock, open me so wide until I—”

“You horny bitch.” You yank down her top to reveal tiny tits, jiggling a little at your every thrust. Her skin is glowing, she is in complete heat. Danielle is a nymph with a tight ass and a pussy so wet, she can save someone from dehydration. You want to test your theory, if her orgasm is as explosive as you want it to be.

“My Lord, I’m so going to fucking cum, I will cum! Make me squirt, make me fucking, ahh!”

Like a fountain, Danielle’s juices paint Minji’s face, cover her hair and even Hanni below. She also doesn’t stop, not with your endless thrust into her ass. She is like an infinite source, eventually filling Minji’s mouth and marking Hanni as a dirty, rimming whore covered in girl cum.

“That was so good, Sir—”

“We are not yet done!” You squeeze Dani to your chest so she cannot escape and start to violate her ass some more, to the point your entire cock stretches her in all directions. For some reason, you feel like you could breed this hole for two eternities, but for now, one massive load has to be enough. 

With your final, deepest of thrusts, you force all of your seed into Danielle’s tight ass-pussy, fill it up and make sure she is tight enough to keep it inside for now. Pulling out is hard but rewarding, and hearing, feeling her pant on top of you is heavenly. 

“It’s so deep in me, fuck,” she moans and you bite her cheek. 

“Push it out of your slutty hole, you naughty bitch. 

“Hanni, Minji! Get ready for your daily load!”

The two girls are under our spell, not questioning anything you say and stick out their tongue underneath Danielle’s butthole. You pull back her heels to give them more space and with an blissful, erotic expression, Dani lets her ass be gaped. Your creamy white cum oozes out of her and Minji and Hanni greedily eat it all up, even getting their tongues into the completely overstimulated girl and cleaning her butthole.

“Shit, this is so lewd,” Dani whimpers and you put a hand around her throat.

“After I fuck Hanni’s ass in a rough Doggy, my heel on her face because I know she loves that, you will eat my cum out of her ass too. And don’t lie; I know you will like it.”

Danielle grins, licking her lips in excitement. “You are such a nasty bastard, Daddy.”

(A/N2: here is the very short version, I'll release a longer announcement later this week probably. I have decided to quit for a while, maybe forever but that is still in the stars. I can still write and I kinda like it, but this endless cycle of horniness and unhinged smut is killing me. I also need to focus on life/studies. More on that later this week. Love you all, peace out.)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #newjeans smut #newjeans hanni smut #newjeans minji smut #newjeans fanfic #newjeans danielle smut #danielle smut #hanni smut #minji smut

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

Things I look for in history books:

🟩 Green flags - probably solid 🟩

Has the book been published recently? Old books can still be useful, but it's good to have more current scholarship when you can.

The author is either a historian (usually a professor somewhere), or in a closely related field. Or if not, they clearly state that they are not a historian, and encourage you to check out more scholarly sources as well.

The author cites their sources often. Not just in the bibliography, I mean footnotes/endnotes at least a few times per page, so you can tell where specific ideas came from. (Introductions and conclusions don't need so many citations.)

They include both ancient and recent sources.

They talk about archaeology, coins and other physical items, not just book sources.

They talk about the gaps in our knowledge, and where historians disagree.

They talk about how historians' views have evolved over time. Including biases like sexism, Eurocentrism, biased source materials, and how each generation's current events influenced their views of history.

The author clearly distinguishes between what's in the historical record, versus what the author thinks or speculates. You should be able to tell what's evidence, and what's just their opinion.

(I personally like authors who are opinionated, and self-aware enough to acknowledge when they're being biased, more than those who try to be perfectly objective. The book is usually more fun that way. But that's just my personal taste.)

Extra special green flag if the author talks about scholars who disagree with their perspective and shows the reader where they can read those other viewpoints.

There's a "further reading" section where they recommend books and articles to learn more.

🟨 Yellow flags - be cautious, and check the book against more reliable ones 🟨

No citations or references, or references only listed at the end of a chapter or book.

The author is not a historian, classicist or in a related field, and does not make this clear in the text.

When you look up the book, you don't find any other historians recommending or citing it, and it's not because the book is very new.

Ancient sources like Suetonius are taken at face value, without considering those sources' bias or historical context.

You spot errors the author or editor really should've caught.

🟥 Red flags - beware of propaganda or bullshit 🟥

The author has a politically charged career (e.g. controversial radio host, politician or activist) and historical figures in the book seem to fit the same political paradigm the author uses for current events.

Most historians think the book is crap.

Historical figures portrayed as entirely heroic or villainous.

Historical peoples are portrayed as generally stupid, dirty, or uncaring.

The author romanticizes history or argues there has been a "cultural decline" since then. Author may seem weirdly angry or bitter about modern culture considering that this is supposed to be a history book.

The author treats "moral decline" or "degeneracy" as actual cultural forces that shape history. These and the previous point are often reactionary dogwhistles.

The author attributes complex problems to a single bad group of people. This, too, is often a cover for conspiracy theories, xenophobia, antisemitism, or other reactionary thinking. It can happen with both left-wing and right-wing authors. Real history is the product of many interacting forces, even random chance.

The author attempts to justify awful things like genocide, imperialism, slavery, or rape. Explaining why they happened is fine, but trying to present them as good or "not that bad" is a problem.

Stereotypes for an entire nation or culture's personality and values. While some generalizations may be unavoidable when you have limited space to explain something, groups of people should not be treated as monoliths.

The author seems to project modern politics onto much earlier eras. Sometimes, mentioning a few similarities can help illustrate a point, but the author should also point out the limits of those parallels. Assigning historical figures to modern political ideologies is usually misleading, and at worst, it can be outright propaganda.

Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. "Big theory" books like Guns, Germs and Steel often resort to cherry-picking and making errors because it's incredibly hard for one author to understand all the relevant evidence. Others, like 1421, may attempt to overturn the historical consensus but end up misusing some very sparse or ambiguous data. Look up historians' reviews to see if there's anything in books like this, or if they've been discredited.

There are severe factual errors like Roman emperors being placed out of order, Cleopatra building the pyramids, or an army winning a battle it actually lost.

When in doubt, my favorite trick is to try to read two books on the same subject, by two authors with different views. By comparing where they agree and disagree, you can more easily overcome their biases, and get a fuller picture.

(Disclaimer - I'm not a historian or literary analyst; these are just my personal rules of thumb. But I figured they might be handy for others trying to evaluate books. Feel free to add points you think I missed or got wrong.)

#jlrrt essays #historiography #media literacy #critical thinking

[yandere-kokeshi]

Warnings: Yandere, Hybrid AU, male reader, anal sex, creampie.

This is not edited, I also got this idea from @konigsblog! Love her, sm /a <3

I can’t stop thinking about Dragon! Price using his strong tail during sex. Doesn’t matter where or how. His tail has to be involved in some way.

Of course, he uses it during cuddling. Different ways to bring you closer. Or how he grabs objects near you two, especially if it's portays your very cock.

He mostly uses it on your cock and balls, or his very own, or your tight hole.

It’s messy. But it’s how he likes it, no?

As of now, John is jumping on your cock, hands on your shoulders as he bounces up and down, his sharp teeth nipping and biting deep into your neck.

John lickes the wounds, sucking the swollen skin even more as you groan out; pain and pleasure were an odd thing to mix. Yet, he feels so good, so well fitted for your large cock.

Lost in the vast of pleasure, you never seem to notice his sly tail until it’s too late; curving around your muscled cheeks.

You gasp. Moaning at the continuous abuse of your beloved dragon and the fact of not expecting the cold scales against your naked globe or the warmth coming from John’s breath.

"What—" you begin, "Why– fuck...— the tail?"

John chuckles, slowing down his pace as his slitted, reptilian eyes look at yours. "It has its own mind, yeah?"

You made a small sound, a mix of a groan and eep before feeling the thick appendage begin to circle around your puckered hole.

It really did have a mind of its own, didn’t it?

John couldn’t help but smile, beginning to pick up his own speed while he’s perched up on top of you — hands still hooked upon and around your shoulders for balance as he leaned forward.

Dragging his erect cock against your tummy, he spreads his cum. His smell,

You’re such a good mate taking him so well, yet he decides to add something to the mix. Letting him add his other body – his tail – inside you. Curling your toes all handsomely as you adjust to its length.

You grit your teeth, heaving as a light layer of sweat litters both of your bodies.

"Lemme enter, hm?" John hums nicely, and you can’t refuse him. So you do, so oh gently.

He suppresses a sound – feeling even more heated. You, on the other hand, have your eyes tightly closed and moan so loud you’re sure the next door neighbors could hear the lewd activities.

You’re nearly crying, feeling the tail enter you to its full extremity where it wouldn’t kill you.

Price chuckles, nudging his face into your neck, feeding your sensitive neck with his scratchy beard as he resumes fucking you.

"Fuck– so pretty with my tail in yah," John hums, grabbing your cheeks before kissing you deeply; his tongue fighting dominance over yours.

Your eyes look at his — misty eyes. You seem to loose touch. Maybe with reality.

Everything clenches with friction. Your tight hole accepting the full him, sliding into you with the thinnest to the thickest part of his tail. Or how his own hole is so wet, taking your large cock with grace as he fumbles over his words.

"Fu–ucckk—" John breathes out, his right wing expanding, gripping your shoulder so unbelievably hard that you’re sure it'd leave bruises.

His hands drop down from your shoulders, beginning to glide over and down across your back, nails scratching at your redden skin.

"Oh– fuck, I love you."

With a single thrust upwards and John going downwards, you cry out loud as his rich cum releases all over your chest, staining your body as you also let yourself go.

Pumping pulse after pulse of thick cum deep inside him, you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling his own seed going at it.

"Fuck– ya' so amazin'".

And you don’t know if its the cock drunk, dragon behavior, or you pumping him full up his guts — but your cock pulses, eagrily telling you both that between his tight hole, and your own of his thick tail, you’re begging for a new round with this new added fun.

#kokeshi!! #yandere blog #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #x male reader #x male smut #yandere x male reader #yandere x male darling #yandere price #yandere drabble #yandere dragon #yandere hybrid #hybrid au #yandere mw2 #yandere cod #yandere call of duty #price x male reader #mw2 x male reader #cod x male reader #call of duty x male reader #x m!reader #yandere smut #dragon au #dragon price #price 🗣 #yandere x darling #john price #john price x male reader

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

#hazbin hotel #velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #my art #digital art #character design

[galedekarios]

minsc & gale

recently i've been doing a playthrough taking minsc along during the limited amount of time we do get to connect with his character in the game and i have to say he's growing on me in a way he didn't in previous titles.

i wanted to take the opportunity here to write a short post about his relationship with gale because that, too, is something i found myself enjoying despite the (too) few interactions that we have between them.

minsc's initial thoughts about gale

Player: How are you and Gale getting along? Minsc: I do not wish to speak of the wizard. Minsc: I could not have said it better myself. - Player Option 1: Gale's great - what's your problem with him? Minsc: He came to me one night with a little book of mischief - full of words and their meanings. Minsc: 'Posterior', he says. 'Can you say 'posterior'?' I refused! Minsc does not need to know the language of wizards. Player: 'Posterior' isn't wizard-talk - it's another word for 'butt'. Minsc: It is an inferior word. Far too long to use in a battle cry, which is where a 'butt' belongs. Minsc: Gale would do better to educate himself in the ways of sword and steel than to throw these pointy words at Minsc. Minsc: Ai, yes. Gale also owns a cat. A cat with wings! That is most unnerving for poor Boo. Player: You should give him a break - he's only trying to help. Minsc: Never! If he is not careful, Boo will shred his books and use them as bedding! - Player Option 2: Did you know that he has an explosive magical orb in his chest that could destroy a city? Minsc: WHAT? Minsc: That is a thousand times more interesting than anything that has ever been written in a book. Minsc: GALE! MY GOOD FRIEND! WHERE ARE YOU? MINSC AND BOO WOULD LIKE TO HEAR ABOUT THE EXPLODING.

they may not start off on the right foot, but with gale's genuine interest in other people's cultures as well as his perception and easy-going nature that changes:

sorcerous sundries

Minsc: Minsc has never trusted places such as this. Too much of a wizard's power can be simply packaged and picked up. devnote: Grumbling as we make our way through the shelves of Sorcerous Sundries Minsc: Well, picked up by all but Minsc. When he touches the many delicate little jars, oh how the wizards shout and stare! devnote: Revealing that his objection of Sorcerous Sundries is not in fact a deep philosophical belief that wizards have too much power - they just make him feel stupid and awkward when he pokes at their things Gale: Fear not, Minsc. You have a wizard at your side who positively encourages such curiosity. You'll fit right in. devnote: Reassuring Minsc: Obliged, wizard. Should we find our way to a weaponsmith, Minsc will rough you up a little - so that you too can fit in. devnote: Warm, comradely, would genuinely be doing Gale a favour

i feel like it truly speaks to gale's character that he doesn't dismiss minsc here - neither his feelings of inadequacy nor his innate curiosity about the things he perceives as wizardly.

it would've been very easy for gale - the wizard prodigy, the former chosen, to archwizard - to act the part of the haughty scholar, akin to the arrogant wizards that minsc describes in this banter, looking down on him, shouting at him, but gale doesn't.

gale reassures minsc, encourages him, telling him he'll fit right in. it reminds me of the way he treats karlach and fostering her interest in books and reading. another pair of seemingly polar opposites that still find a connection. i do think gale is quite natural at this, despite his long time spent in isolation.

and minsc does appreciate it - his tone changes to one of warmth, one of camaraderie - and i think this is also when minsc's perception of gale changes: from the annoying wizard to someone he sees as a companion and friend.

rashemi traditions

Minsc: Gale. Minsc worries you might send a fireball up his butt, with all of this stringy hair in your face. Gale: Is that why you keep your head shaved? I assumed it was a custom of some sort. devnote: Curious, referring to Minsc's origins Minsc: Oh, no! Most warriors of Rashemen wear long battle-braids, weighed down with stone. Minsc can show you, when next we camp? Gale: Thank you, but I'm more wizard than warrior. I'm not sure my scalp would stand up to such a plaiting. devnote: Very politely declining

i like this banter for several reasons: i think not only does it show the progression of their relationship with minsc offering to show gale the traditions of his homeland, gale also shows the same curiosity he shows many different cultures and ways of life, same as he does with lae'zel for instance and githyanki culture.

when he declines minsc's offer, he does so politely, without insulting minsc's traditions, putting the onus on himself instead. he's the wizard, not the warrior.

house of hope

Minsc: Gale! You will perhaps able to explain where Boo has not - what exactly is the difference between a devil and a demon? Gale: A fascinating question, one that boils down to which criteria we choose to apply. Are we speaking about the physiological? Theological? Etymological? devnote: In teacher-mode - up for an in-depth, intellectual discussion Minsc: Eh. Just how-to-kill... -ical. devnote: Non-plussed, echoing Gale's ending every word with 'ical' Gale: Oh. Then for your purposes, they are exactly the same. devnote: Disappointed

this banter genuinely made me laugh. again, i like how it shows the progression of their friendship, to the point of where minsc goes from finding gale annoying to imitating his speech. and gale doesn't put it beyond minsc to have an 'in-depth, intellectual' discussion... even if he is disappointed by the end of their banter, realising that minsc's priorities are... elsewhere.

wychlaran

depending on your party composition and who you take with you, minsc can also call gale his wychlaran.

The Wychlaran, meaning "wise old women" in the ancient language of Halardrim, also known as the Witches of Rashemen outside their lands, were the spiritual leaders of Rashemen, communing with the spirits and guiding the souls of the Rashemi people.

minsc does use it, too, to describe a special bond and a sense of duty and protectiveness to the people he ascribes this title to. he did so in bg1 with dynaheir and in bg2 with aerie.

elminster

Minsc: It must be difficult for Gale to imagine great Elminster a-courting. Writing poems. Doing... certain... deeds. Gale: Long before my time, thank goodness. That's not an image I care to dwell on. Minsc: Ugh. It is difficult for Minsc to think of, too. Let us speak no more of it. Minsc: ... Minsc: Of Elminster and the sex, I mean.

another banter that did genuinely make me laugh despite the seriousness of the situation, especially given the bond that elminster and gale share as well, which speaks of paternal feelings on elminster's part that come with a certain sense of responsibility, as well as gale's admiration, but also often exasperation with his former mentor.

on a more serious note, minsc offers great insights in his interactions with gale and gale's story:

mystra and the vremyonni

The vremyonni or Old Ones were an arcane brotherhood in Rashemen. Men that were arcane spellcasters in Rashemen had two choices, exile or to join the vremyonni. Many vremyonni were kept alive for eons by longevity magic. Vremyonni were expert weaponsmiths and magic item creators. On very rare occasions, vremyonni would fight in the defense of Rashemen. Vremyonni used secrets of magic that even the Witches of Rashemen did not use, destructive spells forbidden among the wilds of Rashemen, in case such magic was needed. The Running Rocks harbored secret strongholds of the vremyonni. All vremyonni wore masks.

Minsc: Gale reminds me of the vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rashemen. Minsc: While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. Minsc: It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth I thought it born of caution, after some catastrophe wrought by wizardly men-folk of old. Minsc: Now I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm? Minsc: Though this suggests that Mystra has never tempted a witch into foolishness. Not that I would blaspheme by suggesting otherwise. Minsc: I forget why I began this long and winding story. Yes Boo - we have been spending too long around the wizard.

i think this is a very interesting banter, especially since it's also only marked to trigger if gale agrees to return the crown to mystra.

it's easy to dismiss this banter, laugh it off as just another instance of minsc being minsc, but i think it's important to consider it within the context of game canon and what has been shown to us.

it's a story and everything within a story is there for a reason.

another great insight from minsc comes if gale is pushed towards the crown by the player:

gale and godhood

Minsc: Who among us has not been spurned by a lover? But a word of advice, if Minsc may be so bold: Minsc: Let the wizard lick his wounds. Write some rickety rhymes, and weep most manfully into his hamster's hide. Eh - his cat's hide. Minsc: But... his boasting is unbecoming. 'Claim godhood', he says? Will this make him any less a man with a half-mended heart?

again, minsc does at times share great insight into other characters and he does so here again with gale:

will this make him any less a man with a half-mended heart?

i think it quite accurately goes straight to the crux of what makes it so very easy to push gale towards godhood: he is hurt. he feels abandoned. by his goddess. by his former lover. both as a mystran and on deeply personal level.

he is drifting, seeking something to hold his head above the water. if it's not the protag's love or friendship, it will be the crown.

anyhow, i never expected to write this when i first learned that minsc would be a companion, but i truly did enjoy him and his interactions with gale in particular.

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #minsc of rashemen #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: minsc #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3

[papiliotao]

꒰ 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 ✩࿐

pairings: kazuha, scaramouche, and xiao x gn!reader (separate)

content: fluff, actor au, mutual pining, idiots in love (affectionate), kissing

summary: in which you kiss your pretty co-star for a scene of the new drama you’re filming. the twist? he’s head over heels in love with you!

a/n: also, this is very unlikely, but if you’ve seen this before, it’s because i messed up and posted it by accident before editing it one final time.

KAZUHA is a love interest straight out of the most euphoric of dreams and the most fantastical of fairytales. He’s sweet, gentle, and considerate, and each time the cameras start rolling, it almost feels as though nothing has changed. He’s the same charming and thoughtful boy you’ve grown to know and love. The only differences in his demeanor are subtle — hidden in the smallest of actions.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Kazuha asks you as he reads over his lines one last time. “If you have any objections, I can ask someone to revise the script.”

As a renowned actor, Kazuha has a considerable amount of power. If he was more selfish, he would have abused his position. However, he typically never objects to anything the directors tell him to do. He simply follows orders. Unless, of course, you’re uncomfortable with anything.

It’s funny. Whenever Kazuha’s told to do something, he has no complaints. He reminds you of liberating winds — able to blow on and persist in any situation. But when it comes to you, he doesn’t have any problems with telling the director to make subtle changes to scenes.

Somehow he’s even more charming than any love interest in a romance drama could ever be. In fact, working on set with Kazuha already makes you feel like you’re living in a fantasy formed in the mind of a hopeless romantic, so it’s no surprise that you’ve developed a bit of a crush on the sweet boy.

“No, it’s fine,” you answer your co-star. You try to act nonchalant, but in reality, your heart is fluttering like the delicate wings of the iridescent butterflies tickling the pit of your stomach. Every moment with him causes a hurricane of giddiness to well up within you. A kiss scene with Kazuha sounds like a dream come true.

“Alright then. Let’s get started,” the director interrupts your conversation — an exchange he was clearly listening in on. “Places, everyone!”

Both you and Kazuha exchange and glance and then get into position. You enter a house designated for the shooting of your drama while Kazuha stands outside in the warm streetlight. A singular call of “Lights! Camera! Action!” — followed by the beginnings of an artificial storm — are your only cues before the crew begins to film.

The scene starts with the ring of a doorbell. It’s a sound that reverberates in the face of overwhelming silence and melancholy, disturbing the peaceful waters atop an ocean of stillness. The sound summons you to the door, and as you twist and pull on the knob, a shivering figure is revealed. It’s Kazuha.

“Oh, hi,” you say, flawlessly adjusting your tone ever-so-slightly to fit the character you’re portraying. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

The droplets of rain falling from the false sky are bothersome, but Kazuha covers everything up with a perfect performance.

“Hi,” he whispers breathlessly. His voice is as gentle as ever, and the way he looks at you with eyes overrun with wonder makes your heart flutter. Stars glowing with a light reminiscent of Polaris seem to appear in his irises, beaming at you with adoration that appears just a bit too genuine.

“Why are you here?” you ask him, trying your best to morph your expression into one that conveys disbelief and concern.

“I just… wanted to see you,” the words fall from Kazuha’s lips effortlessly. His tone is warm, a soft blanket wrapping around your heart with the comfort of a thousand spring sunbeams. He’s so incredibly perfect.

“But you didn’t have to show up in the middle of a storm!” you insist.

Kazuha laughs sheepishly.

“I guess I just couldn’t contain myself,” he admits. After a long pause, he speaks again. “To be honest, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

Your breath hitches. Here it comes.

“I’m in love with you,” he finally admits. His crimson eyes burn with a passion that is unmatched, and although they are calmer than aquamarine waters on peaceful summer days, they also hold an intensity akin to the heart of winter’s glacial plagues. Even though his words are scripted, you can’t deny that the beating of your heart begins to pick up.

“You don’t have to say that you love me too,” he adds. “I just wanted you to know.” Kazuha sends a soft smile your way, his features morphing to convey nothing more than pure, everlasting endearment.

You let the silence that follows stretch on for a few seconds before speaking.

“But I do love you.”

Kazuha’s eyes widen, and somehow, his gaze softens even more. For a moment, he stands still, caught in a daze. However, it isn’t long before he recites his next line.

“Then… may I?” he glances at your lips as he speaks, and it’s clear what he means.

You nod. “I want this just as much as you,” you whisper. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.” Your voice comes out choked, trembling like an autumn leaf fluttering amidst inconstant wind. You mean it, but he’ll never know.

With that, he leans towards you. For a moment, all you can think about is him. His pale skin made cold by the rain, irises that appear as beautiful as lakes filled with the most precious of glimmering rubies, hair fashioned from guiding starlight, and a voice softer than the most touching of nature’s fantasias.

And when his lips meet yours, it’s like fireworks go off in the pit of your stomach, illuminating every bit of your soul with a joy that permeates even the darkest of thoughts. He’s sweet, gentle, considerate, and he treats you like you’re the most delicate thing in the world — as if you could break at any moment. Everything feels so incredibly warm despite the fact that his lips have been cooled by the ongoing storm.

He places his hand on your cheek as the kiss deepens and smiles slightly. It almost feels as though his feelings run deeper. But that’s just a delusion you’re forging in your mind because you’ve fallen for him, right?

Perhaps, but as you pull away and the director ends the scene with a loud “Cut!” Kazuha’s face lingers near yours for a few seconds, his eyes scanning your expression for something entirely unknown to you.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” he whispers in your ear, grinning at you cheekily before he quickly leaves, presumably to check in with his management team.

It takes you a minute to break out of the hazy stupor that Kazuha’s kiss induced, but once you do, you realize the implications of his parting words.

He wants to kiss you again!

SCARAMOUCHE acts indifferent. Apathy runs rampant through every constellation within the galaxies that are his eyes, and a permanent scowl seems to be etched onto his face whenever he’s not being filmed. It’s shocking how different he is when the cameras start rolling.

“Let’s get this over with,” Scaramouche mutters under his breath as he walks by you. The two of you take your places, slipping masks of infatuation onto your faces. Except unbeknownst to you, Scaramouche isn’t quite putting up a façade. The director gives you a cue, and then you’re off.

“Please don’t leave,” Scaramouche whispers, his personality and mannerisms changing up in a complete 180. He’s nothing like himself right now, and no matter how much of a jerk he is when you’re not filming, you have to admit that he’s a skilled actor. The way his voice breaks almost makes you believe that his words are sincere. Almost.

“I don’t have a choice,” you say, delivering the lines you have rehearsed too many times to count. You channel every ounce of raw emotion within you to pull off a touching performance, and it seems to be working. The director hasn’t stopped you yet, and he’s a man with rather harsh standards.

A silence ensues. You look up as practiced, meeting Scaramouche’s gaze. In that moment, you almost break character when you see his eyes. They’re watering. Oceans of grief pool up as he stares at you, looking at you as if he’ll never see you again. Right now, the inky depths of his indigo irises appear more captivating than ever.

Something about his pain feels real, as if he’s experienced the heartbreak that comes with abandonment before. It’s almost as though he’s simply tapping into a facet of himself that he hides. And despite the fact that you don’t always get along with Scaramouche, you feel the urge to hug him and shower him in affection.

“Will you come back?” Scaramouche’s gaze turns wistful as he speaks, his entire expression glittering with hints of hope and light.

“I will,” you say under your breath. “I promise.”

You take a step toward him and caress his cheek, relishing in the softness of his skin as you brush your fingers along his jawline. A light pink dusts his cheeks. If you were less professional, you would have imploded upon seeing his blush. The fact that he can elicit such a response on command is awe-inspiring, and plus, he looks incredibly adorable — nothing like the grouchy Scaramouche you’re used to.

With gentle movements, you take his chin in your hand and glance down at his lips with what you hope is a look of unadulterated passion and admiration. “May I?” you whisper. The softness of your voice surprises even you.

Scaramouche hesitates and then nods shyly — a perfect portrayal of the timid character he’s playing. He’s incredible.

Slowly, you inch toward him, watching as he narrows his eyes and parts his lips slightly. He’s so pretty, and in that moment, you can’t help but admire him. Messy strands of hair reminiscent of nightfall adorn his forehead, and his pale skin is tinted with the subtlest hint of colour.

For a second, as his face is hidden from the camera by the back of your head, he reverts to his typical self. He opens his eyes just a little wider, and exchanges a glance with you. A brief hint of emotion flashes through his irises. You’ve been working with him long enough to know what he’s trying to say. Don’t mess this up.

Things move in slow motion. Time stretches from seconds to millennia, and his expression reverts back to the picture-perfect look of a young man who’s innocently falling into the temptation of blissful love.

And when your lips finally connect in a kiss, you are fully immersed in the delusion of the scene. You wholeheartedly believe that he loves you. From your sentiments stems a warm feeling that bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. It’s soft and ticklish, and it only gets stronger as his lips move against yours.

He sighs into the kiss, and when you open your eyes in order to observe his face, you notice that his own eyes are closed, and he seems completely lost in the moment. At this point, it doesn’t even feel like he’s playing a character anymore. It almost feels as though everything is authentic.

However, when you part, reality hits you like the first snowstorms of winter — harsh, biting, and unrelenting in its pursuit. Scaramouche was only playing his part. Although everything had felt genuine, you know that it was just a mask he put on for the screen.

But as you finish up the scene, you fail to notice the way he walks away with a sunset pink blush tinting his cheeks. He touches his fingers to his lips in a daze and smiles the slightest bit.

“What an idiot,” he scoffs under his breath, but no matter how harsh his tone is, he is unable to conceal the hints of underlying affection in his voice. “Just how long will it take them to notice that I’m not acting?”

XIAO is usually extremely professional, and that’s more or less all you can say about him.

On camera, he is able to act as a charismatic, although slightly shy, love interest, but for whatever reason, things with him just feel so much more awkward when you’re not filming. Most of the time, he tries his best to avoid you as if interacting with you is a scenario straight from his nightmares.

And maybe it is, because on the rare occasions where you manage to catch Xiao off guard and strike up a conversation with him, his responses to your questions are always blunt. But it never really feels like he hates you. It just seems that he’s not the best at socializing.

Things between you are rather awkward, despite the fact that you’re co-stars. So when you’re told that you have to kiss each other for an episode of the drama you’re filming, you feel as though your world is ending.

Sure, Xiao is incredibly attractive with his golden eyes, tinted a colour reminiscent of the sweetest honey; seafoam hair that never fails to remind you of the mystifying ocean; and a pair of pink lips that look impossibly soft. He’s tantalizing, and a kiss with him wouldn’t be so bad — if not for the concerns that flood your troubled mind.

But unfortunately for you, there’s no way to retaliate when the director tells you that the shooting of the scene is about to commence. You just have to go with the flow and hope for the best.

As you pass by Xiao on your way to your places, you whisper a soft “good luck” so that only he can hear you. He nods in acknowledgement, and if your eyes aren’t deceiving you, the slightest smile appears on his face.

You sit down at the edge of a grassy cliff and wait. Meanwhile, you hear the sound of Xiao walking to a spot a short distance away from you. You take a deep breath, getting into character and gazing at the dazzling lights and countless galaxies in the night sky above.

Soon enough, the director calls for you to begin, and the atmosphere falls silent. The only sound you can hear within the stillness is the crunching of leaves under Xiao’s feet. You can’t see him, but you know he’s coming up behind you.

And after a few seconds, the sound of footsteps diminishes into nothingness.

“Hey,” Xiao’s voice rings out from behind you.

As scripted, you ignore him and continue looking ahead as if his presence is insignificant. The grass rustles as he sits down beside you, and in the edges of your vision, you can see him directing his gaze towards you.

“Are you alright?” he asks you.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying your best to emulate a tone that conveys nothing but the utmost irritation.

To your surprise, Xiao flinches slightly. That isn’t part of the script.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you?” he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears as he questions you.

You shake your head. “I said I’m fine.”

Both you and Xiao allow silence fill the atmosphere for a few moments, adding to the dramatic effect of the scene, before speaking again.

“I don’t believe you,” Xiao says, leaning closer to you to examine your expression.

Somehow, you’re able to remain calm despite the fact that the boy who makes you feel a plethora of emotions as numerous as the stars overhead is so close to you. It’s going surprisingly well so far.

And perhaps that is where you jinx yourself because the events that unfold afterwards are disastrous.

“Why do you even care? I thought you didn’t like me!” you scream.

Xiao jolts, and in that moment, the fear, confusion, and utter dismay flashing across his face act as a testament to his acting skills. He’s extremely talented.

Yet again, the night goes silent before Xiao utters, “I do like you — love you, even.” His words are soft, but you’re sure that the production crew managed to pick them up, and that’s all that matters.

Your entire world stops for a moment.

“I do care about you,” Xiao reiterates, “Because I love you.”

Your mind goes blank. Why do his words feel so real?

It takes a few seconds for you to recover from your shock, but when you do, your voice comes out softer than ever.

“I love you too.”

For a few seconds, you look up to meet Xiao’s gaze, losing yourself in the sunkissed dandelion hues of his irises. He smiles at you, and you smile back. His gaze shifts down to your lips.

“Is it okay if I…?” he trails off, and in addition, you swear that you can feel heat radiating off his cheeks. Is he too shy to finish the sentence?

That seems to be the case because for a split second, all he can do is stare at your lips as though he’s frozen in place. You decide to take matters into your own hands and play it off as intentional.

“Yes,” you whisper quietly. “Kiss me.”

With that, Xiao snaps out of his trance and takes both your cheeks in his hands before inching his lips closer and closer towards yours. The fact that the director hasn’t stopped you yet spurs you on because it means that this take is still salvageable.

Time seems to move in slow motion as the distance between you and Xiao closes. But although it feels like it takes forever, it’s only seconds before your lips meet Xiao’s in a gentle kiss that sends butterflies racing through the pit of your stomach.

The warmth of his skin on yours accelerates the beating of your heart, making you feel almost dizzy as the world around you seems to melt into a jumble of nothingness. All that matters at the moment is the two of you.

But unfortunately, you still have a role to play, so after a few moments of absolute bliss, you pull away from Xiao in order to continue on. However, when you do, you see that under the beams of artificial light that spill from around the set, his face is dusted pink.

“How was it?” you ask, grinning at Xiao. You hope and pray to the archons that he won’t mess anything up.

“I — uhm…” Xiao tries to speak, but all that comes out is a stutter. A stunned silence is all that follows. This is bad.

“Cut!” the director yells, breaking through the tranquility of night. “Xiao, what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Sorry,” Xiao mutters, looking down to conceal the last of the blush on his face.

The director sighs. “You know what this means, right? We’ll have to reshoot that scene, and yes, that means you’ll have to kiss [name] again. Can you handle that?”

You feel Xiao tense up slightly, but to your surprise, he looks up at the director and speaks. “I have no objections. I’ll kiss them as many times as it takes to finish this.” He says the words so eagerly. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that he wanted to kiss you more.

Needless to say, the night ends with countless kisses, each one sweeter than the last as exhaustion melts away the ice caging your hearts. And once and for all, your chemistry onscreen becomes undeniably perfect.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, please consider commenting or reblogging! It helps a lot.

#r.archives *ೃ༄ #favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons #kazuha fluff #scaramouche fluff #xiao fluff

[amoxicillin-tangent]

i am given birth to by my mother. i am brought home to a falling-apart trailer. i am fed and i am not fed enough. i am aged into a small being with opinions and some semblance of autonomy; my childhood is a video game and i am given three objectives: sit down, stay quiet, and cease to exist. i am made good at the last part; it is a god-like sort of art, and so i do. silence is suited for me as well as i am suited for silence. 

i am told, gently, by my third-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. the noun of the sentence should be the actor, the doer, the taker. i am not a taker. never the actor of my own consciousness, of my own unconsciousness, remember, now, i am ceasing to exist. 

i am uprooted like a wilting plant, no sunlight, chipped terracotta pot, placed, never planted. grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters, and i deny its case. i am made a masochist at all of eight-years-old, i am made for withering away. i am made mother, made martyr, made clever, made more, made machine. 

i am placed in a foster home and told the new rules. i will sleep at 2130 and wake at 0600. i will eat blueberries and coconut yogurt and i will make good grades. i will behave. i will sit down, i will stay quiet, and i will cease to exist. 

i am told, gently, by my ninth-grade teacher to stop writing in passive voice. like this, you are the subject of the sentence. i am brought home; i am subjected to my sentence. i am taught, i am created, i am embittered, i am disillusioned, i am ceasing. it is all i know how to do.

blurring letters litter the pages before me. maya angelou, oh pray my wings are gonna fit me well. oh, tell the hell-child to return to her cell. mangled beast, worthless mongrel, ceasing. perfect child, perfect victim, passive. the sentences are diagrammed by my expert hand and i am diagrammed as well, pages in a folder, problem child, trouble-maker, mentally unstable. infinitive, preposition, page-break. 

my eleventh-grade teacher is asked why was it okay for maya angelou to write in passive voice? she responds, because to write in active voice would take the focus from the corpse to the crew. i like that. i understand it. the pages aren’t so blurry anymore. i trace them with my fingertips, letter-by-letter. her bones were found//round thirty years later//when they razed//her building to//put up a parking lot. 

i am no longer still, silent, ceasing. i am no longer wilting, and no longer made, i am maker. 

grow, says the sunlight seeping between the drawn shutters. i am neither the corpse nor the crew. i reach forward with trembling hands,

and i pull the cord, and the light floods through.

#poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled poem #parentification #original poems #poetic prose #poetry community #poets and writers #foster care #tw: death #tw: neglect #tw: emotional abuse #passive voice

[scuttlingcrab]

So it's pretty obvious that Raphael would be a massive fan of luxury items. How would he react to Tav being able to make certain luxury items from scratch (such as lotions, massage oils, perfumes, soaps, etc.) and is really freaking good at it.

Maybe he learns this little fact about Tav when he receives a bundle of custom luxury items from one of his warlocks and it has a note which says, "To: Raphael. From: The mouse. A 'thank you' for the food." (assuming Tav filled a plate of food during the group's first encounter with the fiend)

Thank you for this awesome prompt. I took a liberty with this one, wanted to try something that maybe a writer hasn’t done before re: what luxury item Tav would make Raphael. I also referenced a few characters from my other stories. Marin, the composer from A Night at the Symphony and Dolofina, the warlock, from A Warlock is Born. I couldn’t resist! Hope you enjoy! And send on the next prompt if you haven’t already! :)

Summary: Raphael receives an unexpected gift from Tav.

Warnings: Mild violence/torture

––

A Perfect Fit 

(Image via violadesdragons)

The screams were like music to Raphael’s ears.

The torment that resonated from each shriek, every wail that echoed into his House of Hope, if directed well, could create a symphony that would feed Raphael for weeks. A melody almost as magnificent as Marin’s concertos. Raphael mastered what buttons to push, what minute threads to pull, to achieve perfection.

Every human was an instrument in their own right. They had a unique cord, an unsung talent, that Raphael knew how to excavate and mould. He had spent millennia fiddling with mortals, experimenting with different techniques to inflict pain or even less conspicuous means to really persecute his poor unfortunate pets. 

Nevertheless, Raphael despised it all. Torturing these creatures was so below his station, another idle role he had to play to keep up appearances in this never-ending farce to reach his objective, to reclaim the Crown of Karsus. He longed to see the players of his saga, his glorious ascension, leave the dark confines of the wings and enter the proscenium for all the planes to see.

Raphael listlessly looked up towards his current unfinished task, a withered mortal impaled on rusted spikes. No matter how hard Raphael stared at this rat, how tirelessly he worked his mind to calculate new methods to inflict agony, all Raphael could do was muster an apathetic groan in response. 

He was almost relieved to hear footsteps approaching the dungeon, identifying the bouncy gait of one of his warlocks almost immediately. Dolofina. 

Raphael smiled to himself, letting out a shallow breath as the doors slowly creaked open. He snapped his fingers, and another spike appeared, slowly lifting to meet the others.

“I do hope you have some interesting news for me. And think hard on your answer, or else I might swap you out with poor Boris.” 

Raphael turned to greet Dolofina, the whimpers of the tortured human slowly rising as he approached her. She stared back at him without any emotion, unmoved by the threat. He taught her well.

“Apologies for the intrusion, but a woman was insistent you receive this. She wouldn’t leave Korrilla alone until she confirmed we’d deliver it to you.”

Dolofina lifted the basket in her hands with a sigh, offering it to Raphael. 

“Pah! Which insolent creature is it this time? If it’s that damned–” 

“She only referred to herself as the, and I quote, ‘little mouse.’”

Dolofina seemed perplexed at the name, rolling her eyes as she waited for his response. Raphael’s mouth parted, his eyes instantly becoming more animated at the mention of her.

“Could she be crawling to me already?” So fast, and such a pity. He had been looking forward to a tussle.

Raphael gingerly picked up the basket, holding it in his hands and carefully inspecting every inch as if it was an ancient relic. What a simple little offering, merely a straw woven basket. Its contents were hidden under gold wrapping paper and held together delicately by a red bow.

“Don’t worry, we’ve already inspected it for traps.”

Raphael gave Dolofina a flat stare. 

“Do you think the creature would be so daft?”

Dolofina shrugged.

“I am merely a mortal, what would I know?” 

There was a hint of mischief in Dolofina’s eyes as she smiled back at Raphael, so pleased with herself. He growled, pointing towards the threshold of his dungeon. The skin on his human disguise hissed, verging on transformation. 

“You have overstayed your welcome. And might I remind you, I am your master. I can terminate our agreement whenever I see fit, be it from the smallest lapse in your performance. You know what that means for your future.”

“Yes, master.” Dolofina responded through tight lips. She promptly made her leave, but not without slamming the doors behind her. 

“Must every creature under my employment be so thickheaded?” Raphael whispered, taking a moment to massage the bridge of his nose. 

When Raphael was sure his boiling blood had cooled, he proceeded to focus his attention on the basket, now weighing heavy in his hands. It would’ve been a shame to have accidentally incinerated the gift with his temper, which was nearly uncontrollable in recent months, without even knowing what was inside.

Raphael started with the bow, carefully untying the knot. Once it was removed, he brought it to his nose, slowly taking in its scent. Cloves and roses. Oh how he relished it. Raphael placed the bow in his pocket and removed the wrapping paper. He discovered a small envelope sitting on top of a golden gift box. A sudden jolt of electricity shot through his veins as he opened the letter. 

To: Raphael  From: The Mouse  Thank you for the food. Please accept this gift in exchange for your hospitality. If the measurements are not sufficient, perhaps we can schedule a fitting. You know where to find me.

Raphael snapped his fingers, leaving the letter floating in the air beside him as he continued with the box. His fingers, usually so calm and still, twitched with excitement. 

Raphael gasped, removing a single doublet from the box, its red colour as dark as blood. The silk melted in his hands, the article of clothing sparkling against the roaring flames of the dungeon. Gold and silver markings were intricately embroidered throughout the jacket, infernal designs suiting Raphael’s tastes. The cuffs of the doublet were adorned with devil tails that swished and curled on a constant loop. 

“My, my, the little mouse has been busy indeed.”

And what artistry! It had been ages, no centuries, since his eyes fell on such an alluring piece. Is this what it would feel like once he held the Crown in his hands? 

Raphael snapped his fingers, the doublet now on his person. He sighed, oh it fit him perfectly, as if that creature knew Raphael’s body like the back of her hand. He raised his arms, bowed, did every possible movement that could come to his mind in that instant, and yet could find no imperfections. 

Raphael was a generous devil, perhaps often too generous. He wasn’t opposed to receiving such luxurious gifts on occasion, but it was dangerous to play with his food. He considered for a moment being harsher to his future clients. The little mouse had a long road ahead of her if she was to help Raphael get what he desired. She needed to focus. No more distractions. No more gifts. 

And yet… 

Raphael clapped his hands and a mirror appeared before him. He gave himself a little spin, grinning. It was a suitable doublet. Cursed creature! Perhaps he could make other uses of these tadpoled yet. What was that mortal saying he heard so often? Ah yes, all work, and no play… 

Raphael was pulled from his thoughts at the howls of the tortured mortal, still impaled above him. Raphael’s cheeks burned, he had been sloppy, overlooking that he was not alone.

He angrily snapped his fingers and the mortal combusted. Their screams died with the flames, leaving no signs of their previous existence as the ashes fluttered away. A waste of a soul, Zariel be damned. She’d never even notice it was missing. 

And with that, Raphael stormed out of the dungeon, proudly wearing his new doublet. 

#bg3 raphael #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #tav x raphael #bg3 tav #tav #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #raphael the cambion #writing #fanfic #asks #writing prompts #raphael #cambion #new doublet who dis #raphael bg3 x tav

[b1rds3ye]

Task Force 141 but it's Battlefield's Bad Company - a unit of disgraced soldiers who are valued no higher than cannon fodder but who are also too skilled to simply get the boot. Despite being thrown at the most devastating threats, they are low on resources and lack respect from the rest of the military. No one bothers learning their names, they're not expected to last more than a week. But a small unit of them always manage to pull through.

Captain John Price says he only took up Bad Company because he was given an offer of early retirement if he survived leading the dredges of the military. In truth, he's gone off the books one too many times, his last mission had him temporarily A.W.O.L. as he pursued what he believed was right. If the military can't silence him with retirement, they'll silence him with Bad Company where they'll throw every mission under the sun at him until he inevitably falls. He doesn't comment on how his last official mission went, but if you ever bring up General Shepherd he says he has a special bullet reserved for that bastard.

No one knows exactly why Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley got into Bad Company, he doesn't say. In fact, no one knows shit about him. All anyone knows is that he's a damn good soldier, the longest lasting in Bad Company - he transferred even earlier than Price. Simon says he willingly transferred here because he thrives with the freedom and informality compared to the standard military and no one dares comment on how utterly unhinged that sounds. Still, his personality seems to fit the story; he's not afraid to go off the beaten path to reach the mission objective which seems to have taken out everyone but him.

Sergeant Johnny "Soap" MacTavish is just a menace, but a crafty one which is a problem for the military. He enjoys being demolitions expert and one day got too bored and a little too curious. Destroying physical objects would be too obvious but he may or may not have infected the military system with a virus to see what sort of information he could extract. He learnt the hard and very expensive way that he has a knack for hacking. Perhaps that's why they transferred him to Bad Company, with trash-quality guns, outdated tech and precisely negative ammo, there's not much destruction he can wreak. Well, that was likely the thought process but Johnny's always loved a challenge.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick was framed - he presumes. He excels in all the drills, his performance is promising, he follows all the orders, and yet he's here. What he doesn't know is that he doesn't have the personality superiors desire. He questions too much, he's far too open minded, he can't be molded like other soldiers. He's stubborn - they transferred him because he filed one too many complaints of inefficient directives that could be boiled down into polite military speak of "screw you and your orders, I have a better way (P.S. may your tea always be lukewarm)". He's annoyed the big bad men at the round-table and now he's paying the price. Fortunately, those are the traits that thrive in Bad Company and the exact traits that prompted Price to take him under his wing.

And that just leaves you, the newest member on the brink of promotion to sergeant until you were transferred into Bad Company. You're jittery, you've heard of the nightmare that is Bad Company, how it contains the worst of the worst (and yes you are aware that it apparently includes you now). When you step off the helicopter, you repeat your simple goal - to survive this one mission with Bad Company so that you can go back to your squadron and get your damn promotion.

But as the mission progresses you find yourself getting closer to all the members of Bad Company. You look back fondly at the memory of Price forcing the rest of you to run back into gunfire to retrieve his stupid bucket hat, the same hat he plops on your head if you're ever too on edge. You can only feel thankful for Ghost's unconventional medical advice - you have to give it to him, this discount Bear Grylls has saved your life more times than you can count. You look forward to the new creative ways Soap will blow up an enemy cache, or watch as Gaz hilariously tries to mimic your direct superiors with an overly high-pitched voice as Price begrudgingly talks to them over comms.

And that's when you realise that there will be a day where the mission is inevitably over. And instead of looking forward to your transfer back, you find yourself wanting to risk your life every day with your beloved bunch of military misfits, the group of you against the rest of the world, than whatever stuffy perks come with being sergeant.

Call of Duty Masterlist

#battlefield bad company 3 WHEN??? #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #task force 141 x reader #call of duty #john price x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #/*avery actually writes*/

[communistkenobi]

I always get a little annoyed at posts saying “btw did you know conservatives don’t know what they’re talking about? did you know that they’re incorrect about x?”. And it’s not because that’s wrong per se (conservatives don’t know what they’re talking about and they’re almost always factually incorrect, which is a significant part of why their politics are awful), but focusing on the factual substance of their claims tends to obscure the reason why they’re being incorrect in the first place. like yes they sound ridiculous when they say “I don’t believe in pronouns” but its not because they don’t understand how grammar works. The purpose of that statement is to argue that gender should not be negotiable through language, that to use “pronouns” is to attempt to alter someone’s god-given ontological gender and is therefore morally wrong. And because this discussion is dominated by English-speakers (gendered pronouns are not universal) living in imperial countries, a deeper claim is being made, that trans people are perverting the most enlightened language, the language of the West, the language that dominates all others. This also very neatly fits into right wing antisemitic conspiracies about the oncoming death of western civilisation, which is not an accident!

So conservatives are latching onto a word that has been recently infused with fresh political meaning in public discourse and using it as a rhetorical platform to be disgusting. They know how language works - language is contestable, it is both subject to constant change and a medium through which that change is negotiated. Trans people are making a claim (gender is partially mediated through language and therefore gender is reinforced and expressed linguistically) and conservatives are making a counter claim (no it isn’t). “I don’t believe in pronouns” is not an argument about the technical structure of language, it is an argument that trans people are so perverse that we infect and degrade the base components of language itself.

So yes, point out that they’re incorrect, but they aren’t incorrect because they’re stupid or ignorant, and being incorrect is not the primary problem with their rhetoric. That is a strategic statement which is deliberately inflammatory, can fit neatly inside both tweets and headlines, and makes a very grand conspiratorial claim about reality (any mention of pronouns is evidence of a transgender plot to destroy western civilisation and indoctrinate children), and this is all accomplished with a 5-word sentence that can be repeated ad nauseum. So the issue at hand isn’t a failure to observe the basic components of language, it’s a violent call to action to remove trans people from public discourse, and eventually public life entirely.

Conservatives are incorrect for a reason. They are incorrect on purpose because they don’t care what the truth is. They are politically savvy and incredibly successful at gaining and maintaining power. They know what they’re doing, and if your only critique of them is that they don’t have their facts straight, I think that’s just a really weak position to hold. What happens when they saying something factually correct? What happens when they know more than you? What happens when they’re well-spoken, well-read, and reasonable? What will you object to then?

#effortpost

[captainfern]

141Rugby!au - Introductory and Definitions

141 x fem!reader, rugbyunion!au [18+] intro

hi! below the cut is an introductory to rugby union if you know absolutely nothing about the sport (and it's completely okay if you don't!)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Rugby [a somewhat simplified explanation!]

rugby union (i’ll be referring to it as simply rugby) is a very physical, high-contact sport played by many different countries across the world. if you want an idea of how intense the love for rugby can be, search up rugby culture in south africa, ireland, or new zealand - 3 very strong rugby nations!

the main objective is to score tries by getting the ball to the other end of the field and touching it against the grass in the end-goal. to stop the other team from scoring a try, players try to tackle their opposition and attempt to steal the ball back.

also important to note, many rugby players are fine as hell. ok anyway

on a rugby field, each team has fifteen players numbered 1 through to 15. each team also has players on the bench that can be "subbed" on if a player on field becomes tired or gets injured. each player (and their number) has special skills, simplified here:

1 & 3 (prop) - the strongest guys on the field. usually pretty beefy as they are positioned at the front of a scrum (explained later). example player: joe marler, england. 2 (hooker) - a bit less beefy, but still strong, sometimes a bit taller than 1 & 3. this guy throws the ball in lineouts (explained later). example player: malcolm marx, south africa. 4 & 5 (lock) - the tallest guys on the field. they are lifted during lineouts. example player: eben etzebeth, south africa. 6 & 7 (flanker) - are very fit, quite fast and are good at commanding the field (many captain's have been flankers). example player: siya kolisi, south africa. 8 (number eight, eighthman) - typically very strong and can lift and/or be lifted in lineouts, as well as add extra weight to scrums. example player: ardie savea, new zealand. 9 (scrum-half, half-back) - usually the smallest on the field, and are often quite quick. they put the ball into the scrums. example player: antoine dupont, france 10 (fly-half, first five-eighth) - are usually fast, fit and are often the kickers of the team that kick conversions (explained later). example player: handre pollard, south africa. 12 & 13 (centre) - strong passers, have a good kick and create space when they run down the field. example player: reiko ioane, new zealand. 11 & 14 (wing, winger) - the fastest men on the field. they run near the outside lines of the field and can often be difficult to tackle (explained later). example player: james lowe, ireland. 15 (fullback) - catch high-balls, kick far distances, quite fast, fit and can run long distances. example player: damian willemse, south africa.

there are certain "events" that happen in rugby, as mentioned in the previous segment. the basic, fundamental ones are simplified and explained a bit here:

scrum - a method of restarting the game. players pack closely together with their heads down and attempt to gain possession of the ball by pushing each other. the props go at the front because they are the strongest, and the 9 puts the ball in for the players to "fight over" lol. like this:

lineout - is another method of restart when the ball goes out, and involves the ball being thrown in and players lifting up the 4 or 5 so they can catch the ball and give it to their team. each team lifts their lock, and the locks fight for the ball in the air lol. like this:

conversion - done after a player scores a try (a player touches the ball against the grass at the end of the field, worth 5 points). the kicker has to kick the ball between the posts to "convert" the try. it's worth 2 points.

now, here's some quick definitions of words you might see in my upcoming fics. also, if you're ever confused, just ask me! or, you know, search it up on the internet lol.

tackle - when the player with the ball gets "tackled", another player has grabbed them and brought them to the ground. some tackles can be pretty tame, but others can be very intense and cause serious injuries (you are not allowed to tackle near the shoulders, neck, or head. if a player does, they are sent off with either a yellow-card, or red-card). like this:

yellow card, and red card - if a player does something illegal (rugby term for bad or against the rules lol), they can either get a yellow or red card, depending on how bad they are. a yellow card is if you break a basic rule (example, you accidentally hit your shoulder against another player's head in a tackle) and you get sent off for ten minutes and have to sit in the naughty chair :(. a red card is if you do something very very bad (example, you straight up try to scrape someone's eyes out with your sprigs aka the pointy things on the bottom of your boots). you get sent off for the rest of the game, and could get a suspension from playing for weeks.

penalty - if you do something a bit bad, not enough for a card, then the other team get's a penalty (if the other team does something wrong, you get a penalty). the team can choose to either take the ball back and do a scrum/lineout, or kick for goal (a penalty goal is worth 3 points).

forward pass - can't do that!! when you pass the ball, it must always go backwards, just by a little bit!! like this:

ruck - when a player is tackled and goes to ground with the ball, other players join in to try and either steal the ball or take the ball out and give it back to their team. the guy with the ball has to get the ball out otherwise the other team gets a penalty! like this:

maul - exactly how it sounds lol. can be pretty brutal. when the player with the ball is held up, other players grab onto them and basically wrestle each other LMAO. other plays can join in to keep play moving if they want. it can happen a lot after scrums. it can also lead to fights if the players are particularly rough with each other. like this:

try - the method of scoring points. a player takes the ball and puts it over the line at the end of the field (call the end-goal most of the time) and it's worth 5 points. like this:

that's basically all you need to know to understand the references i might make throughout the fics (in between the literal porn of course LMAO). if you're curious about anything else, consult the internet or feel free to ask me :)

and yes, try celebrations are common. you know that tiktok audio "and they're both boys *smooching sounds*". that's literally mens rugby like half of the time

ok first fic out soon hopefully x

i’m aiming to write 5 parts but we’ll see how far i get lol

#captainfern #call of duty #141rugby!au #141 x reader #task force 141 #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #johnny soap mactavish #cod smut

[haggishlyhagging]

Another way to solve the paradox of depressed wives reporting their marriages as happy is to view the socialization process as one which "deforms" them in order to fit them for marriage as now structured. We cut the motivational wings of young women or bind their intellectual feet, all the time reassuring them that it is all for their own good. Otherwise, no one would love them or marry them or take care of them. Or, if anyone did, they would be unhappy and feel caged if they had wings and could not fly, or unbound feet and could not run.

There may have been a time when this made sense. It might well be asked if it still does. But whether it makes sense or not, we are quite remarkably successful. We do not clip wings or bind feet, but we do make girls sick. For to be happy in a relationship which imposes so many impediments on her, as traditional marriage does, a woman must be slightly ill mentally. Women accustomed to expressing themselves freely could not be happy in such a relationship; it would be too confining and too punitive. We therefore "deform" the minds of girls, as traditional Chinese used to deform their feet, in order to shape them for happiness in marriage. It may therefore be that married women say they are happy because they are sick rather than sick because they are married.

There are some researchers who believe that this is indeed the case. They note that our standards of mental health for men are quite different from those for women, that if we judged women by the standards which we apply to men they would show up as far from well. A generation ago, Terman could judge women who were conformist, conservative, docile, unaggressive, lacking in decisiveness, cautious, nontolerant to be emotionally stable and well balanced. They were the women who had achieved an adjustment standard of mental health. They fitted the situation they were trained from infancy to fit. They enjoyed conformity to it. They were his "happily" married women.

But modern clinicians see them in a different light. Inge K. Broverman and her associates, for example, ask whether a constellation of traits which includes "being more submissive, less independent, less adventurous, more easily influenced, less aggressive, less competitive, more excitable in minor crises, having their feelings more easily hurt, being more emotional, more conceited about their appearance, less objective"—a constellation of traits which a set of clinicians attributed to mature adult women—isn't a strange way of "describing any mature, healthy individual." These researchers conclude that we have a double standard of mental health, one for men and one for women. We incorporate into our standards of mental health for women the defects necessary for successful adjustment in marriage.

We do our socializing of girls so well, in fact, that many wives, perhaps most, not only feel that they are fulfilled by marriage but even hotly resent anyone who raises questions about their marital happiness. They have been so completely shaped for their dependency and passivity that the very threat of changes that would force them to greater independence frightens them. They have successfully come to terms with the conditions of their lives. The do not know any other They do not know that other patterns of living might yield greater satisfactions, or want to know. Their cage can be open. They will stay put.

-Jessie Bernard, The Future of Marriage

#jessie bernard #marriage #female mental health #female oppression #female socialization

[piratefishmama]

Crashed the wedding, Part 7

Eddie had no grand speech prepared, he had nothing, his whole job was to wing it, which was probably a good thing because anything he’d have prepared to say, would have flown right out of the metaphorical window when he saw Steve.

He’d only just managed that witty quip as he Aragon’d his way through those doors, all the breath just taken right out of him god he was still as beautiful as the day Eddie left, nine years hadn’t touched him at all. His hair still impossibly perfect, even though he’d clearly not put much effort into it for the day, his glasses still made him look like the cutest pre-school teacher ever, and the moles.

Lord have mercy on his poor soul, the moles. He was too gay for this. He just wanted to skip everything, get directly to wrapping Steve up in the cosiest of sweaters, and handing him the tastiest mug of hot cocoa like he deserved, and just cuddling him for the rest of his life.

“E-Excuse me sir, we hadn’t actually gotten to that part yet” The reverend’s voice hesitantly cut through the silence that seemed to carry on for way longer than intended. The man choosing not to mention that the senior Harringtons had instructed him to remove the offer to the guests to object from the ceremony speech citing that they wouldn’t need it.

“Yeah well, it’s not like I had a damn invitation to sit in and wait, did I?” Eddie snapped right back, shaking himself up. He had a job to do, a love of his life to rescue, and no goddamn idea as to how he was supposed to do that if Steve wasn’t reacting in any way other than just staring at him with wide-eyed, open-mouthed surprise.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Steve heard from his left, turning to find his father’s face had turned a curious shade of red in apparent anger. The man quickly turning his eye onto his son hissing “did you have something to do with this?” At him. God Steve wished. He’d have given anything to have had the courage to just pick up the damn phone and call Eddie before all this shit went down.

Nine goddamn years, he wished he’d have picked up the phone each and every single day, but he hadn’t, too many missed calls, too many excuses for him to keep trying, he’d been so sure that Eddie had just… moved on, convincing himself more and more with each failed attempt to stay in touch that maybe… maybe it was just for the best.

Eddie was famous, for something good… besides the shit that happened during Vecna’s little bitch fit, Eddie hadn’t stepped a toe out of line in nine whole years, no scandals, no drug addiction stories, no compromising paparazzi shots in the papers, he sang his songs, played his nerd games, he showed up as ‘Metal Santa’ at Children’s hospitals with the other bandmates dressed as goofy elves, giving out toys all out of his own pocket, he helped out at soup kitchens on the weekends when he wasn’t busy, did charity auctions of random shit for troubled youth charities, he was good. The only time he’d had an issue was early ’88 with a mild drinking problem but Dustin knocked some sense into him on that one and he’d cleaned up his act by September the same year.

He looked mean and scary sometimes, but nobody, not a single person could ever accuse him of being anything but good. Steve was just… Steve.

A man going nowhere, stuck in his hometown with nothing to offer him. It’d been so easy to convince himself to just stop trying. Eddie didn’t need him, Eddie probably didn’t want him, he could have anyone, why would he want him?

Steve didn’t answer his father, instead turned back to the intruder, a smile fighting at the corner of his lips as he witnessed the man telling one of the bride’s huffy aunts to pipe the fuck down. “Eddie? The hell are you doing here?” How could he let his mind force him to doubt when Eddie was right there as if he’d heard that one wish Steve had spoken only in his mind.

“Rescuing you, sweetheart, can’t say I’m the most impressive of cavalry but at least I look good, which is more than I can say for your bride, yikes ma’am you just faceplant into a cake made up entirely of makeup this morning? Not a good look, I can see where the foundation meets the rest of your neck. One word, blend.” Liar, she looked flawless, but the outraged gasp of an offended bride was worth it. The shit stirring little fucker. “It will change your life.”

“Steven—” Harriet huffed, turning to her groom expectantly “aren’t you even going to—”

“No.” Steve immediately cut her off with a short, snort of a laugh, eyes still on Eddie as the man approached, his bride immediately turning to her parents to loudly complain about the interruption, Steve tuned her out completely, he’d tuned everything out, focusing entirely on Eddie “you could have worn a shirt, man.”

“And miss the warm Indiana breeze on my nip? I think not Steven.” Steve scrunched up his nose in distaste “Stevie? Steve-o, Ooh, ooh… Estebe?”

“That means Stebe and you know it means Stebe.”

“I know but you always thought it was cute.” He was within reaching distance now, so close he could touch him, could touch him to ensure he was real, that he hadn’t just hallucinated his way through his forced vows.

“I only thought it was cute cause you actually thought it meant Steve.” He reached, Eddie’s smile widening, only for it to drop, his eyes sharpening in barely concealed rage as Harrington Sr. grabbed the arm reaching out toward Eddie.

“Don’t even think about it, Steven. You will inform your brief, and unfortunate lapse in judgement that you were mistaken, that it meant nothing, and you’re marrying Miss Reid, do not make me remind you—”

“Sit the fuck down Harrington, nobody pulled your string.” Eddie snarled leaning in close enough for the man to release his grip in surprise.

“Eddie… he’s right, I—I have to.”

“No, no you don’t, I see nobody we know here Steve, your friends, your family they’re not here… why? Why aren’t they here Steve… on what should be the happiest day of your life, why did Nancy have to shoot a security guard in the arm just to get me in?”

“Nance did what?” Was that what that noise was?

“Surprised you didn’t hear the gunshot. Karen wheeler practically shoved this monkey suit on me and shoved me out the damn door in hopes I could get you out of this, the only reason the others aren’t here is because these assholes did well enough to have it clash with everything going on in their lives.” Not him though, Eddie would have abandoned a whole damn tour, he’d have cancelled mid-gig, if necessary, Steve needed him. He needed them. “What’s stopping you from walking out of that door right now, baby? What’s doing that?”

He saw that crack in Steve’s already crumbling resolve at the soft use of an old pet name, such a simple, generic little name but it always made Steve just a little weak hearing it from Eddie. “Eddie—Eddie I’m… I can’t…”

There were whispers, people had stood up to get a closer look, nobody in that church recognised Eddie, as famous as he was, he wasn’t their kind of famous. Eddie paid them no mind, taking those last few steps, using what little courage he had left to reach up and skim his calloused fingers along that perfect jawline, thumb caressing the soft cushion of his cheek just below where his glasses perched. “You can, baby boy… my sweet little prince, you can walk right out of here with me… whatever it is Steve, we can deal with it, money? Baby I have more in pocket change than your family’s entire net worth combined, including the shit in those offshore accounts ol John here doesn’t think anyone knows about it.” Steve’s father leaned a fraction backwards in surprise, how the fuck did Munson know about that? He could move all he wanted, Eddie wasn’t paying attention to him, his soft eyes were on Steve, watching as the man let his own drift shut, leaning into the palm cupping his cheek. “Hawkins? Sweetheart… I got here in a day, I flew first class, very fancy, if anything happens, we’ve got it, we can be back here so fast whatever that freaky-ass place throws at us, we’ll be ready for it same as always… so what is it, big boy, what’s stopping you?”

Steve let his eyes open halfway, taking in the man in front of him “I’m not worth it Eddie… just… just go, it’s okay… I’ll be fine, m’always fine” so why did that smile look so sad “…I’m not worth what you’d lose if I were to leave.”

Part 9

#Steddie #Crashed the Wedding #Ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #all aboard the pain train! #Merry Christmas!! #im aware aragon did not do the door thing in the books #i'm using creative freedom to say HE SHOULD HAVE. #Eddie Aragon'd his way through those doors #you enjoy that mental image

[kiyoomi-levin]

No Sense (Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader)

summary::: sakusa has never encountered a clean object, much less a clean human being. so why is it that you, the first-year new manager of Itachiyama's volleyball club is? word count::: 3.4k music rec::: love 119 - riize warning?::: sakusa's kind of an ass & can't communicate

This really isn't like him. It really isn't like the one and only Sakusa Kiyoomi to find someone attractive at first sight. More alarmingly, it really isn’t like him to find someone clean. 

He's always known he was different. While other kids chased each other and rolled around the dirt pavement of the playground, Sakusa refused to step into the sandbox or touch the playset. It was disgusting. Couldn't they see? It was only when he entered elementary school that he learned he was the only one with this ability: being able to physically see germs.

The dirtier something was--and unfortunately, most things in this universe are really fucking dirty-- the darker the glow around them became. The subway seats, the door handle to his classroom, the reusable utensils from restaurants were all surrounded by darkness, so dark he felt sick. His backpack, the clock hanging above the chalkboard, and Motoya Komori, his closest friend and cousin, all classified as semi-dirty, with a light gray surrounding them. In his life, he's only seen two things without a ring of germs. His body after a nice, long, 40 minute shower and… you.

It doesn't make sense. Even newly bought scissors still inside their packaging are slightly dirty (from being exposed to the particles of the factory they're from, duh). So why? Why is it that a random first-year didn't have that dark glow around her? New people (whose hygiene habits were a mystery) were always especially dirty, surrounded by a shadow composed of gray and black.

It just doesn't make sense.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, they're introducing the new manager today!" Ito Asahi, the 2nd-year outsider hitter, calls out as Sakusa and Komori walks in. 

Sakusa takes a glance around the gym. Today, it’s especially clean, uplifting his sour mood from being touched intentionally by some girl from class 2-B. Komori notices and smiles playfully.

"Looks like you can forgive and forget Nakamura now, right?" He murmurs. 

"Who?"

Komori sighs, feeling sorry for the short-haired girl in love with his brainless cousin. 

"Never mind."

"We're welcoming our new manager. She just transferred," Iizuna, Itachiyama’s captain, says as he rolls out the volleyball cart from the closet.

"Be nice,” he says, glaring at the club’s center.

Sakusa frowns under his mask, forehead wrinkling.

"You're the reason why Azuma-san quit. I'll be watching you." 

Sakusa grimaces harder. Nothing escapes Iizuna's line of sight, unfortunately. It pays off during matches, but outside the court it’s nothing but a hindrance.

Besides, it wasn't his fault that the grubby-handed manager had repeatedly mixed his jersey with everyone else's, loaned his water bottle to the new first-year players, and, worst of all, used his phone to make a call.

The final straw was when the 3rd-year girl had handed him a used towel. Less than 30 seconds after the exchange, Sakusa had her pressed against the wall and whispered some not-so-kind, germ related insults that led to her filing for her retirement the next morning.

"Who is it?" Komori asks, flopping onto the floor and beginning his stretches. Iizuna grins, rolling a ball in his hands. Iizuna knew you well as a distant family friend, and knows you'll fit in well.

"She's a first-year with a ton of experience as the former manager of Ushimi Middle School," Haga, the backup setter, cuts in, leaning over to help Komori reach his toes. 

Iizuna’s response fades out as Sakusa's mental encyclopedia goes to work.

"Ushimi Middle. Bokuto Kotaro," He says, taking off his mask. Haga smirks, knowing the wing spiker had memorized the magazine introducing the top Japanese high school players.

"Yeah, she's close with Bokuto. They apparently dated," Hirota chimes in, emerging from the stands. Hirota, never one to shy away from gossip, watches as Sakusa raises his eyebrows.

Disgusting. You dated that energetic, owl-freak who looks like someone who doesn't wash their hands after eating? You must be at his level of contamination. Internally groaning, Sakusa can only hope you'd wear gloves around him.

"Relax," Komori says, “we don’t know if that’s true.”

"That means she likes older guys, huh... think I have a chance?" Asahi says, promptly being slapped on the back of the head by Iizuna.

"Group up!" A shout from their coach, Hirata-sensei, gets the boys to line up in three rows. Aces and third years at the front, first years at the back. Iizuna walks next to the coach, holding a new manager jacket.

It's silent for a moment, and the door swings open as Sakusa picks at his thin cotton shirt. Why is there lint on it? He should get a new lint roller, this brand wasn't cutting it. And switching detergent brands was also a mistake, this new one makes his skin itch…

The first years begin murmuring behind him.

Sakusa refuses to look up, though. He's not ready to see the grime surrounding you.

"Hello," a voice calls out. "I'm l/n y/n. I'm a first year, and I transferred this semester. I previously was manager of Ushimi Middle. I'll try my best... If you have any concerns or special requests, please don't be shy to talk to me."

Cheers, and Sakusa hears Iizuna welcoming you and passing you the jacket. Coach suddenly calls him out.

"This is Sakusa Kiyoomi, our ace. Be wary as you approach him and his belongings." 

Sakusa looks up to glare at his coach and the newbie.

He blinks. Once. Twice. Three times just in case.

You're clean. Clean. There's no ring of germs floating around you. It's what he sees after getting out of the shower. It's not possible.

"Kiyoomi?" Coach says. Sakusa blinks. What?

"Uh. I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi." He hears his teammates behind him whispering and giggling, no doubt misunderstanding his shock.

You smile, and he feels his gut twisting.

"I've heard a lot about you, Sakusa. I look forward to working with you! I'll take care of your things."

You're kind of cute. He doesn't know how else to describe you, he's never examined a girl. He's seen many girls in his life, more than a dozen have approached him in just this past year-- all quickly rebuked. He's not a virgin (thinking about his past experiences makes him gag), but something makes him feel like a shy boy experiencing his first love.

Your eyes are bright and your smile is almost blinding. When has he gotten so cheesy?

As coach introduces the other aces, Sakusa can't take his eyes off of you as you giggle at Komori's stupid introduction (he suddenly feels a surge of anger towards his innocent cousin). 

It doesn't make sense.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's been almost a month since you've begun your duties as manager, and it's going great! You couldn't have asked for a better group of players. 

And yet, despite the easy-going attitude of the overall team, one thing (yes, he doesn't even qualify as a human) always messes with you.

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

The only student who you were not able to warm up to. Everyone else on the team was incredibly friendly, requesting you call them by their first names. Tsukasa takes good care of you, Motoya purchases the always-sold-out cafeteria sandwiches for you, and Asahi helps you prepare for exams. But Sakusa refuses to even look your way and snaps when you touch his towel or water bottle (even with the disposable gloves you purchased at the mini-mart). 

It hurts, being shunned by someone who you admire so much. You've known about him and his skills since middle school, and when you were accepted into Itachiyama, you were thrilled at the prospect of supporting someone so dedicated to his passion. But this player (who you curse internally) glares at you, watching as you head towards the benches.

I won't touch your stuff, relax, you think to yourself as you pick up Haga's bag. What more could you do? You've tried different methods to approach him, washing your hands more often than usual, using hand sanitizer as you approach him, and even changing your shampoo and body wash to a brand he prefers (thanks to Motoya’s intel). 

And yet, he still stares at you like you’re a freak.

“Hey, be careful.” You jump as Sakusa presses up behind you, staring at his sports tape in your gloved hand. You frown. For a germaphobe who despises you, he sure gets close sometimes.

“I am!” You snap, and despite your anger, you gently place the tape into his bag. With that, you turn away quickly, running off to refill his water.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Yeah, you’re an asshole.” Komori says, sighing. “You’re acting like a fucking first grader, Kiyoomi, one of those kids who teases the girl they like.”

Sakusa nearly drops his sandwich. 

Really? Is that how he comes across? 

“Is it obvious?” 

Komori’s mouth drops. He had simply been teasing. Who had replaced his cold and calculated cousin with this honest and socially-conscious Kiyoomi?

“Wait, really? You really like her?” Komori leans in. 

Ugh. Sakusa pulls away quickly, packing up his belongings as the bell rings. 

No. He’s just interested in why you’re clean. 

That’s the only reason. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“y/n!” Sakusa barks. You flinch. He’s in an especially prickly mood thanks to the upcoming practice match with Nekoma. 

Without hesitation, you begin to sanitize your hands as you rush over to where he’s sitting.

“Wipe my face for me,” he demands, much to your shock as you near him. His gorgeous face (sculpted by God himself, no doubt) is covered in a light layer of sweat.

You gape, eyeing the towel folded perfectly on top of his bag. Never in the past three months have you seen anyone touching Sakusa, not even with gloves on. Even Sakusa himself rarely touches his own face, only to put on and take off his mask. 

“Hurry up,” Sakusa breathes impatiently, placing his bottle on the floor. 

Wait, are you really allowed to touch him? What’s going on? Are you in an alternate universe?

“Uh–” you fumble as your scattered mind tries to collect itself. “Let me get my glov-”

“Shut up. Just wipe it off,” he says, closing his eyes and bowing his head. 

“Idiot,” he murmurs. That snaps you back, and a rush of adrenaline fills your body as you gulp.

Time’s moving in slow motion. 

You carefully pick up his towel, a soft, red item that always smells of Sakusa’s laundry detergent and is free of lint. 

You reach up, gently patting his face. Starting from his chin, then above his thin lips, the sides of his nose, his forehead where those adorable two moles lie. 

“Done,” you whisper, taking a step back. You let out a huge sigh of relief, realizing you’ve been holding your breath this whole time. 

Sakusa’s eyes slide open and he peers down directly into yours.

Again, time stops. 

As he wordlessly turns away, you feel your stomach fluttering. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Why does he treat you different?

Your friends can only think of a few logical explanations to his strange behavior over this past month. 

“He’s warmed up to you,” one of your friends proposes. 

Another one scoffs. 

“He probably got scolded by the coach for being rude to you.”

Your best friend, Yuyuka, has the most realistic theory. 

“He was replaced by aliens.”

Yes, that must be it. Because wiping his sweat for him, refilling his water bottle gloveless, and handling his club jacket and jersey has become your responsibility. 

You so badly want to ask Sakusa–no, Kiyoomi, which he casually demanded you to refer to him as, why. 

Why does he let you do these things? Why does he allow you to use his precious phone to make emergency calls? Why do the corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles at the sight of you scrubbing his favorite volleyball clean? 

Why did he hug you secretly after the team’s victory against Aoba Johsai last week?

You still can’t forget the way his slightly damp body held you for one, two, three seconds behind the gym before he gently shoved you away.

 “What could it be, Komori…” you breathe aloud, head clouded with thoughts of Kiyoomi and his gorgeous face. 

Your trusty informant, Komori, internally gags. While he loves you and Kiyoomi, it sure is irritating to have you gush about Kiyoomi to him in one ear and Kiyoomi ranting about you in the other. 

Could you two just confess already? Komori thinks, sighing. 

“Honestly? You’re basically dating already,” Komori retorts, glancing through the door to make sure his gossip-hungry teammates are out of range.

“Just ask him out. I swear it’ll go well.”

Your head snaps up towards the talented libero. 

“No! I mean, I just can’t be sure… It’s just so weird! Like he hates me and sometimes he’s nice, but then he just pushes me away…” 

Komori rubs his temples. That stupid ass tsundere. 

“Oh! By the way… y/n, are you also… a germaphobe?” You frown. 

“Of course not. Why? Has he asked? Does he ask about me?” You ask, eyes brightening. Komori shakes his head. 

“It’s just weird. I mean, Kiyoomi said that you’re clean.” Your eyebrows furrow. 

What does that mean?

As if reading your thoughts, Komori begins to explain. 

“That guy… he can see germs. It’s weird. I mean, he thinks even I’m dirty, but he said from the start that you’re–”

“Komori!” A furious Sakusa shouts from the court. “Break’s been over for 29 seconds!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen, I’ve figured it out,” Yuyuka says in a whisper. The two of you are hiding at the top of the stairwell, plotting the ‘ultimate Sakusa Kiyoomi x l/n y/n plan.’

“Men… they require a push-and-pull. You’ve always been at his mercy, right? Since the beginning you’ve always admired him.” You nod intently. 

“Exactly! So now you’re gonna ignore him.”

You squeeze your hands together. Could you really do that, though? Wouldn’t that just irritate him? But more importantly, you didn’t want to do anything to hinder his athletic performance on court–

“Stop overthinking!” Yuyuka scolds as you pout. 

“But…” 

“You got this! I swear, this’ll work. If he likes you, he’ll ask you directly what the problem is.”

As you head down the stairs and towards the volleyball gymnasium, you can’t help but wonder why, despite her romantic wisdom, Yuyuka has never been in a relationship. 

–-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since you’ve talked to Sakusa, touched his face, handled his water bottle and ball and had your hands on his sports tape. 

Since you’ve begun this ignore-Kiyoomi-until-he-confesses nothing has happened, other than him glaring at you from across the court every moment you’re in his sight.

Yuyuka’s words ring in your mind. See, he doesn’t like you. You’re always the one to initiate! He doesn’t care about you, girl. Just let him go. 

You feel tears welling in your eyes as you mop. Seriously, why are you even this upset over a situationship? Pathetic. He never liked you in the first place. It was just a one-sided misunderstanding. Even when you had walked home together, after all, it was at Komori’s insistence. 

But then why had he purchased a Christmas gift for you?

Wait, it couldn’t have been that he had just received those chocolates from other girls and pawned them off to you, right? That sounds like something he'd do.

Fucking asshole. 

“I can find someone else,” you mutter to yourself. “Yeah… I can find anyone else, stupid Kiyoomi…”

Lost in your thoughts, you envision yourself dumping him into a pit of mud. That makes you smile.

“Watch out!” 

You don’t get the chance to react as a blue volleyball flies towards you at what looks like 500 mph. 

“Oof!”

The ball collides with your left shoulder, sending you backwards. You stumble and fall on your butt, humiliated and in pain. 

Stupid Kiyoomi!

Now you know he really hates you– no one on the team hits this hard!

“y/n!” The team is rushing towards you as you clench your shoulder. 

“I’ll take you–” Iizuna calls out, but he reaches you first. 

“Kiyoomi.” You whimper.

Sakusa’s panting, and bright red, but without hesitation, leans down and sweeps you into his arms, bridal-carry style.  

“Here we go,” he mumbles as he takes you away, towards the back of the gym. 

You close your eyes, burying your head in your hands, shoulder throbbing. God! Anyone but Kiyoomi would have been fine, why’d it have to be him, and why’d they all have to see you being wiped out by a single ball, so embarrassing…

“You’re a dumbass, huh,” Sakusa says as he lowers you onto the bench. Your eyes burn. It’s his fault, and he’s degrading you? 

“Seriously. How many times have we told you not to fucking stand there, it’s dangerous, and watch your positioning on court–” 

“It’s your fault!” You shout at him. The loud gym awkwardly goes quiet.

Sakusa’s eyes widen, but you just can’t stop yourself. 

“You hit it! Why’s it my fault? You’ve been ignoring me!”

Now tears are really streaming down your face. 

Your bottom lip is quivering, and Sakusa hates himself that even in your vulnerable state, he’s only consumed with thoughts of biting it. 

“But it wasn’t– I didn’t–” Panicked, he looks around wildly, making eye contact with his cousin, who shakes his head as he ushers the rest of the team out of the gym. 

Now, in silence, it feels like for the first time, Sakusa can really see you. Not as just the strangely clean manager, but as a confused and heartbroken girl. 

“Sorry.”

You take in a small inhale, wiping your eyes. Sakusa reaches forward, grasping your hands. He gently taps your tears away with the sleeve of his sweater. In a shift motion, you suddenly find yourself in his lap, to your surprise. 

“Kiyoomi! I’m not clean,” you mumble, “I fell on the floor of the gym, in a spot where I haven’t mopped yet–”

“I don’t care.”

You sit here awkwardly, relishing the feeling of the body heat radiating from his chest. 

“Um… ” you start, squeezing your hands into fists.

“I like you. Sorry. I’ve– well, I’m an asshole. I know. And I’ve tried really hard to be more open. But it’s really hard. Not that that’s an excuse, Komori already chewed me out, so I know already. I fucked up, but since the start–” 

You can’t help it, you’re pressing your lips against his. 

“Wait, y/n, I–” You lean in again, twisting your body carefully so you’re sitting sideways.

You reach up, taking his face into your hands. His curly hair is even softer than you anticipated, no doubt thanks to his carefully selected conditioner. 

Sakusa takes a deep breath, looking into your clear eyes. It’s like you’re seeing into him, through him, at the real him– a socially restricted germaphobe riddled with flaws. 

But it’s as if you don’t care. 

He’ll tell you about his problems later, but for now, he closes his eyes and lets you steal his lips again. 

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“Ooh, it’s so loud,” You whisper to your boyfriend, grasping his hand tightly. As you glance over, you can’t help but smile as you study Sakusa masked up and wrapped up in his hoodie. 

It’s the Spring Tournament opening ceremony, meaning that there’s a hell ton of dirty, dirty people. He feels like throwing up, typically he stands in the corner, away from the masses of excited athletes and viewers, but he just doesn’t want to leave your side, especially because who he knows is here– the team’s first opponent, Fukurodani, that boasts a dirty simpleton who also happens to be your ex. 

“y/n, I feel sick,” he groans, slumping against you. You giggle, massaging the top of his head with your fingertips. 

“y/nnn!” A loud shout rings down the hallway. A familiar silhouette– 

“Kotaro!” A grin spreads across your face as your ex and trusty partner in crime, Bokuto Kotaro, skips down the hall towards where you’re standing with Sakusa. 

“Aw, it’s been so long, y/n, I’ve missed you!” Bokuto shouts, excitable as ever, inching closer. “Seriously, why’d you have to switch districts? Lemme get a hug!” 

You’re shaking off your boyfriend’s arm when Sakusa suddenly shifts, creating a barrier between you and the owl-headed athlete. 

“Gross.” 

Bokuto looks taken aback, frowning as he identifies the grumpy man on your shoulder. 

“Sure, sure, I’ll go wash my hands before touching her,” he grumbles, spinning on his heels. 

“No need,” Sakusa says, pulling you closer as Bokuto marches away, arms folded. 

“You can ask for a hug when she has to console your loss.”

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a/n urgh i give up. sorry this is so shit. i give up. i've been working on this for so fucking long and it's just so bad. so cringe. but hope you liked or this helped you pass your time LOL this is probably the worst thing i've ever written

*i hate this so much i just skimmed thru it in my final read-through so there may be errors if there are just lemme know pls*

#haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x reader #hq kiyoomi #haikyuu kiyoomi #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu x you

[foxglovebells]

Lost Star (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader!Sister Reader

Summary: Rhys’s mother and sister, Y/n, were kidnapped and murdered by Tamlin’s family centuries ago. Everyone mourned their deaths but especially Azriel. His mate’s death had changed him and he was never truly the same, he still held onto the hope that you were still alive. Turns out he was right.

Warnings: Trauma

Notes: This ones a bit shorter, but I wanted to put out Y/n’s POV separately. Also ignore any typos😅Enjoy:)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

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The room was cold. That’s the first thing you thought of every morning before every single memory leading up to that very moment rushed back to you. Lingering between dreamland and reality was the only peace you were offered.

The room wasn’t large by any means, but it wasn’t the usual cramped space that a cell normally would be.

It had a bed shoved into the corner of the metal chamber. The cold from the walls radiated throughout the entire room, not even the small stove on the opposite wall could warm it.

The room was similar to a studio apartment. There was a bed and a kitchen. A bathroom the size of a closet with a shower that hardly had enough room to turn around it, let alone produce any hot water.

If you hadn’t been able to magic your wings away before you were trapped in the magic less cell, you wouldn’t have been able to fit in your bed, and definitely not the tiny bathroom and shower.

There was a single blanket, thinned and filled with holes after centuries of use. A book shelf was there as well, filled with ancient texts that had been placed there by generations of spring court high lords.

You had read each one front to back, hundreds of times, memorizing the words on each page as if they were permanently ingrained into your mind. One book it particular had ancient spell magic, used by witches before they had been wiped out.

So you studied it, it was your only reprieve. That and training your body to exhaustion so that you could pass out and fall asleep, sleeping passed time much quicker. You sat and practiced the magic, trying desperately to break though the magic binding walls. You could feel it humming within the room, but never seeping out.

For years you tried, you tried astral projection, meditation, astrological magic—which was ironic considering how far beneath the surface you were. You tried strumming the string of your mate bond. Attempting to reach out for him, because the box blocked even soul magic.

You not only tried magic, but also force. You tried to find a door, nothing. A crack even, indicating a hidden exit. You tore off the carpeting. Moved the furniture, tapped every object for at least a hint of the exit, but you came across blank every time.

So many times you wanted to just give up. He’s forgotten you. It’s been too long. He’s moved on. I just want him to be happy. The repetition of thought clouded your brain. Should I just give up now?

That mindset never lasted for long though. By the next morning you were back to trying. Even if your mate moved on, you wanted to see him happy one last time. You wanted to see your brother, had he finally found his mate? Had Cassian?

The thoughts of your friends encouraged you to try harder. One day, you had a breakthrough.

It was just a simple hum of magic, hardly anything. But to you it was the biggest piece of hope. Because the hum wasn’t coming from your magic attempts inside the box like normal. No, it was coming from the outside, you could feel magic from outside the box.

So you ran with it. You conjured the words of the spell in your mind as you lay on your bed.

“sicut me somnus vincit, spiritus surripiant me, surgam et appaream in mente alicujus prope.”

You repeated it over, and over, and over, and over again. Until you feel your mind drifting, falling into a slumber.

And then suddenly you’re looking through someone else’s eyes as they walk down a hallway. The spring manor hallway.

“Help me!” You bang against her mind

“Help me!” Again.

“Help me!” You push your magic harder to get through the walls of magic confined by the metal.

And then you’re no longer looking through her, you’re looking at her. You’re begging her, telling her to help you. The girl is human. How can a human help you?

You don’t question it for longer than a second, someone knowing is better than no one. But you feel the magic inside you fading. Turns out it takes a lot of power to get through a box made to contain powerful magic.

You panic and try harder to stay. When you realize you won’t succeed you try to say one last thing, “I’m in the—”

“—back estate.” But you were awake now. And your message hadn’t been delivered.

“The back estate! Through the trees, behind the manor! Down the stairs, beneath the basement!” Your voice cracks as you scream, tears pour down your face, you bang your hands against the metal walls until they’re bloody, as if somehow she would be able to hear you.”

“Help me, help me, help me.” You keep repeating as you curl into a ball and sob, rocking yourself back and forth, trying to imagine Az’s arms around yours, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as he sends love and reassurance down the bond. The bond that is gone, the bond that you can’t feel anymore.

And so you cry yourself to sleep on the floor. You don’t get up the rest of the day, or the day after that, or the one after that. The last of your fight is gone. Centuries you had spent trying to get someone to help you. If someone didn’t know by now, they probably wouldn’t know ever.

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel #rhysand sister #magic #spring court #Acotar #night court #foxglovebells