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griseldabanks · 1 year ago

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Rosie Runs to Rivendell AU: Eavesdropping

(I'm not posting this on AO3 or FFNet yet, because I wanted to get feedback on the direction I'm taking with it, and see if I need any course-correction. Also, I have no idea what the title should be, because "Rosie Runs to Rivendell" just doesn't quite sound right ^^' Please give me any constructive criticism you have!)

It was a beautiful April morning when Rose Gamgee's life changed forever.

The day had begun splendidly. After several dismal, drizzly days, the Sun had finally poked her head out from behind the clouds, drying out the grass and warming up the flowers all along Bagshot Row. Sam had plenty of trimming and pruning to keep himself busy, and Granny Gamgee had taken Elanor off Rose's hands. “It's a fine day for dancin' on the grass and pickin' flowers, and we'll have a picnic by and by, won't we, my dear?” Granny had said, leading her granddaughter by the hand as the little girl stumped along on her chubby little legs.

Rose was grateful for the reprieve, for she had a busy day ahead of her, and as sweet as Elanor was, she was only two, and had a tendency to get underfoot. That was the last thing Rose needed today of all days, for Mr. Frodo had company. Important, surprise, last-minute company—though, the way Sam told it, one learnt to expect the unexpected when said company was Mr. Gandalf.

Rose knew that most folk looked askance at Mr. Gandalf. Not only was he one of the Big Folk, he was a wizard. Who knew where he came from, or what unnatural magic he might bring with him. Some said he might turn you into a toad or a snake if you looked at him funny. A troublemaker, they called him. A disturber of the peace.

Sam didn't hold with such nonsense, and wasn't afraid to say so, no matter who brought it up. “He can't help that he's big and from foreign parts, and he's a great friend to Mr. Frodo. Besides,” he would always add, as if it sealed the deal, “he's a friend to the Elves.”

Normally, that wouldn't be enough to convince Rose not to want to hide anytime she saw that pointed grey hat appearing over the hill. But her Sam was the stoutest Hobbit she knew (except perhaps her own father), with a sensible head on his shoulders. Perhaps he was a little more enamored with Elves than was wise, but if he said Mr. Gandalf was all right, then she trusted his judgment.

“Well, I had better, hadn't I?” she said to herself with a toss of her red curls, the few times the subject had come up. “If I'd married someone I couldn't trust, I'd be as silly as Daisy Bellweather's chickens!”

So, when Mr. Gandalf showed up in the evening, unannounced but not unwelcome, in the well-tended garden of Bag End, Rose had rolled up her sleeves and gone straight to work in the kitchen. After all, how else was she to repay Mr. Frodo for his generosity in letting her small family live with him in Bag End, if not by seeing to it that everyone in it had the finest food in all the Shire?

This had been the first time Mr. Gandalf had come to visit Mr. Frodo since Rose had married Sam and moved into Bag End. So if her hands shook a little as she carried in the tea tray, perhaps she could be excused. But Mr. Gandalf and Mr. Frodo were deep in conversation about far-off lands Rose had never heard of, so they paid her little mind except for a brief word of thanks. And when Mr. Gandalf had accepted the teacup she tremblingly offered him, she caught the hint of a smile beneath those bushy eyebrows and long beard.

Now, the next morning, Rose stood at the kitchen table, up to her elbows in flour, kneading the last of three batches of bread dough. Big Folk had big appetites—though not as big as a Hobbit's, Rose thought with a smile. After the bread, she'd get started on some seed-cakes, then see what sort of greens could be gathered in the garden for lunch.

The windows were thrown open to let in the warm, fresh breeze. She smiled at the wet, green scent of cut grass as much as the sound of Sam's tuneless whistling as he strolled back and forth past the window. From the next room, Rose could hear the low rumble of Mr. Gandalf's voice, which had been going on for a while now. Rose had been tuning it out for quite some time, like the drone of a bee in the background. But suddenly, her attention was arrested by Mr. Frodo's raised voice.

“Gollum! Gollum? Do you mean that this is the very Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!”

Rose remembered when Mr. Frodo had told Elanor bedtime stories of Mr. Bilbo's adventures—made to sound cheerful and unthreatening to a little lass's ears, of course. But even Mr. Frodo's watered-down recounting of that horrid Gollum had given Elanor nightmares for weeks. And then Sam had told Rose the points Mr. Frodo had glossed over, and she had been the one starting awake in a cold sweat in the middle of the night.

Despite the chill running down her spine, Rose found herself inching closer and closer to the doorway as she listened to Mr. Gandalf's story about how he had traced Gollum's steps since Mr. Bilbo had escaped him. There was a lot she didn't understand about their conversation, but one thing she did glean was that the ring Mr. Bilbo had won in the riddle-game was very dangerous—dangerous in part because there was someone who wanted it, wanted it even more desperately than Gollum, and would stop at nothing to get it.

And so it had to be destroyed. Mr. Frodo had to take it to someplace called Mordor, and throw it into a fiery mountain where it would be destroyed before it wrought things too terrible for words.

Rose's fingers clenched around fistfuls of her apron. This wasn't a bedtime story. This wasn't a nightmare that she would wake from and let fade away with the sunrise. This was really happening. Mr. Frodo was going away—farther away than Rose could even imagine.

But suddenly Mr. Gandalf grew still, poised like a cat eyeing a field mouse. And then, just like the cat, he sprang upon his prey. His hand darted through the open window and pulled Sam to his feet from where he'd apparently been crouching just out of sight. Rose stifled a gasp in her apron, but no one seemed to have heard her.

“Well, well, bless my beard!” Mr. Gandalf exclaimed. “Sam Gamgee, is it? Now, what may you be doing?”

“Lor bless you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!” Sam said. Rosie could see him trembling all the way across the room. “Nothing! Leastways, I was just trimming the grass-border under the window, if you follow me.”

“I don't,” Mr. Gandalf snapped. “It is some time since I last heard the sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?”

“Eavesdropping, sir? I don't follow you, begging your pardon. There ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.”

“Don't be a fool! What have you heard, and why did you listen?”

Rose couldn't bear to stay silent any longer. “Begging your pardon, sirs,” she said, stepping into the room. When Mr. Gandalf spun to face her with bristling eyebrows and eyes glinting like coals, her heart quailed inside her chest, but she stood firm. “I'm sure my Sam meant no harm, only...only please don't turn him into anything unnatural. I don't know what I should say to Elanor if she come home to find her papa's become a toad!”

Sam shot her a glance of mingled fear and gratitude, while Mr. Frodo brought his hand away from his mouth as if he'd been stifling a laugh. “Don't worry, Sam, he won't hurt you. But just you up and answer his questions straight away.”

“Well, sir,” Sam said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “I heard a deal that I didn't rightly understand, about an enemy, and rings, and Mr. Bilbo, sir, and dragons, and a fiery mountain, and—and Elves, sir. I listened because I couldn't help myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless me, sir, but I do love tales of that sort.”

Rose knew all too well the gleam that entered Sam's eyes any time Elves were mentioned. He could talk about Elves till his tongue fell straight out of his head—but she loved him even so.

“And you, my dear?” Mr. Gandalf turned his keen gaze back upon Rose, but this time she thought she detected a twinkle of humor in their depths, and took courage from that.

“Aye, some of them tales are very pretty indeed, sir, though some are mighty sad—“ Then she realized Mr. Frodo was grinning again. Her hands flew up to cover her face. “Oh...you mean, was I listening too, sir? I'm sorry, Mr. Frodo, I didn't mean to, only I heard raised voices and then you started talking about that horrid Gollum creature, and....”

To her immense relief, Mr. Gandalf began to laugh, and Mr. Frodo soon joined in. Hoisting Sam straight through the window, Mr. Gandalf set him down beside his wife and looked upon them both, hands on hips. Sam's warm hand clasped around Rose's, dirt mixing with flour under their fingernails.

“Well, well,” Mr. Gandalf said, eyes twinkling. “So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away, did you? Now, what are we to do with the two of you?”

“I did, sir,” Sam said, looking earnestly across the room at Mr. Frodo. “And that's why I choked: which you heard, seemingly. I tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me, I was so upset.”

Rose could see the tears building up in the corners of his eyes, and squeezed his hand in comfort. She loved their kind master dearly, but it was nothing to how Sam felt, she knew. They'd grown up together, and for all that Mr. Frodo was a gentlehobbit, he never put on any airs nor looked down at the common folk. She knew Sam admired him for that, as well as for his wisdom and his connection to Elves and other magical beings simple hobbits could scarce imagine.

Frodo was almost like an older brother to Sam. It felt presumptuous to even think, but it was true. He didn't treat them like servants, though he allowed them to serve him. It as almost like they were family. Elanor even called him 'Uncle.'

And now he was going away.

Going...alone. Going from danger to danger, meeting with Elves and Dwarves and goodness only knew what else. Going away like old Mr. Bilbo, perhaps never to be seen again, leaving the three of them with nothing but memories....

Mr. Frodo sighed, a weight seeming to settle on his shoulders as he fingered something in his pocket. “It can't be helped, Sam, Rosie. I shall have to go. But if you really care about me, you will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of what you've heard here—“

“You needn't fear, Mr. Frodo,” Rose found herself saying. “You needn't fear my Sam letting anything slip, for he's going with you.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #rosie runs to rivendell au #rose gamgee #samwise gamgee #frodo baggins #gandalf #this is actually the first time i've ever even ATTEMPTED lotr fanfic #took me 20+ years to get my writing ability halfway decent i guess #also...it feels wrong to criticize the Professor #but...i disagreed with some of his punctuation choices and changed them accordingly when copying out dialogue #*hides under desk*

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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years ago

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okay so, first of all, i want to say I'm sorry, I didn't know you were going through shit all this time, and hurting your feelings was truly not my intention. I really mean my apology. I never meant to kill your muse either.

second, I truly meant that I love your work and your writing and that series, I wasn't trying to sugar coat anything by saying that. and I agree that writers don't owe us anything and are rather doing us a favor by sharing content for free. I've been a fan of yours ever since I found out about you, interacted with you on anon, reblogged your fics as well and I think it's only fair to do that for the time you take out to write fics for us, and I swear, hurting you was not my intention. I should've known that you might not like an ask like that. you decide what to do with your series, and how to write it. you do you ❤️

honestly, I'm surprised at the comments wishing me a shitty month ahead and people calling me a bitch, a cunt, entitled and whatnot. as long as i was supporting you and all of the other writers in the comments, and dropping lovely comments on their fics, i was a nice person. but for once when I said how i felt about a fic, I got all that hate. imo, when people create content, they need to be prepared to receive criticism along with appreciation, they both come hand in hand, they can't ask for appreciation alone. please understand, that i know the difference between criticizing and hating or bullying someone. I didn't mean to come off as hateful or rude or entitled, but I get it that you never asked for criticism, and I shouldn't have given that, especially since it wasn't constructive criticism. I'm no writer myself and I failed to provide a solution with the criticism, sorry.

and people who want a reason to hate will hate this ask as well, they'll call me names and find a problem with this as well.

thank you for everyone who wished for a shitty month for me and everyone who called me names. i hope you all have a great month ahead, and sending you all a hug 🫂

Listen, I do feel bad about how aggressive my answer to your last ask was, and for the name calling on my part, so I want to apologize for that portion of it. I do stand by the overall message I conveyed, but it could have been done in a softer way. I’m not going to apologize for all the other authors, because I did set the tone of the post, and I also don’t believe in censoring other people’s emotions, and I think the notes on the answer provide a little bit of context for how the writing community on tumblr is getting constantly bombarded by criticism they did not solicit.

The reason you didn’t know about the stuff I was going through is because I try to keep this place fun and light, and honestly when I’m having a tough time, I prefer to privately reach out to friends and mutuals to get through it rather than broadcast it to the masses. But that’s another reason why everyone should consider how something they plan on sending could come off, because so many of us don’t share all of our lives here, and you never know what someone else is going through.

I do appreciate that you love my work, and the point of my last answer wasn’t that you need to love every part of it. You are welcome to skip whatever parts of it you want to, and if something doesn’t resonate with you for whatever reason, that’s okay. But once something is posted, that’s kind of it. I’m not going to go back and make changes, so unless I have explicitly asked for criticism, it is going to come off as unwelcome, no matter the context.

And I’m going to ask you this because I am genuinely curious: what were you hoping to accomplish with your previous ask? It’s very hard for me to come up with a scenario where that wouldn’t have been poorly received, but I’m on the other side of it. So I really would like to know what the overall intention of the ask was.

Wishing you a good day, and I do appreciate you reaching out again, because you didn’t have to do that and I know it was hard with the response you got.

#natalie answers #fandom discourse #anon answered #asks are always open

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greatwyrmgold · 2 years ago

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Internet news:

About a month ago, popular VTuber Pikamee was planning to stream Hogwarts Legacy. There was a backlash to this, though how much of a backlash is now unclear because some of the obvious lightning rods for backlash (e.g. Pikamee's Hogwarts Legacy tweets) were later deleted.

During this backlash, Pikamee canceled the Hogwarts Legacy streams, then decided to take the rest of February off. It's unclear whether this is related to the backlash, but many people have assumed it is, because it's the simplest explanation that can be constructed from available evidence. I think it's a reasonable assumption; riding out the storm was probably a major contributing factor in the break, though other considerations (like stress or IRL issues) may have made it a more appealing solution.

Recently, Pikamee announced her "graduation". For my mutuals that don't follow VTubers, that basically means the retirement of a VTuber persona. Graduation has many possible causes; disagreements between talent and agency, scheduling problems, the talent losing the interest/time/etc required to be a VTuber, etc.

It should go without saying that a lot of people blame the Hogwarts Legacy backlash, because it's the simplest explanation that can be constructed from available evidence. This assumption, I think, is less reasonable. Graduation is a big decision, most controversies are (or at least are assumed to be) temporary. If the Hogwarts Legacy thing played a part, I suspect it's a secondary consideration, e.g. the Discourse around it made Pikamee more cognizant of how her gaming preferences would by publicly analyzed if she kept streaming on such a big public platform.

To my knowledge, the VTuber group Pikamee worked for (VOMS Project) has not provided a specific explanation for Pikamee's graduation or responded to questions about whether it was Harry-Potter-related. For some reason, they're reluctant to touch this controversy made of smaller controversies and plugged into a much larger one with a 10-foot virtual pole.

Anyways, the Internet reacted typically. By which I mean that marginalized groups (in this case mostly trans VTuber fans) worried about their safety, a vocal minority proved them right, and most people don't care. A lot of Pikamee fans have blamed trans people, their allies, and the broader LGBTQIA+ community for Pikamee not streaming any more, which is ridiculous.

Even if the Hogwarts Legacy controversy is the only reason Pikamee graduated, it's not necessarily related to trans stuff. JKR has other questionable political beliefs, many of which leaked into her work. There's also the fact that alt-right/GamerGate figureheads played leading roles in the game's development. Put this together and you have a game whose primary sin is not being connected to (and directly supporting) a transphobe, but having an antisemetic plot.

And even if it was just the trans stuff...blaming all trans people for the actions of Pikamee's critics is just...pointless, unjust, and dumb. Also a form of bigotry in and of itself. I doubt these people would react well to all white women being blamed for the shit JK Rowling writes. And for that matter, I'm willing to bet real-world money that more of the critics were VTuber fans than LGBTQIA+. If you're going to blame unrelated people for the backlash, shouldn't you focus on people who share demographics with an overwhelming majority of the critics?

The transphobic shit being done in Pikamee's name covers the whole spectrum of Internet activity. On one hand, some people are doing things like drawing Hatsune Miku burning a trans pride flag, which would be charmingly lolrandom if it wasn't also transphobic. On the other hand, there's the typical harassment and slur-tweeting and shit, either trying to make queer people feel unwelcome in their communities or expressing anger at them which achieves the same end result.

Pikamee is as eager to address the controversy as VOMS is, but most fans (including the ones that don't really care about the controversy) agree that the anti-trans backlash is not how Pikamee wants her community to act. They think that fans should adopt Pikamee's generally easygoing attitude to her graduation.

But some people are angry, and won't let things like that get in the way of lashing out. And contrary to what certain pundits imply, trans people make a very easy target.

(Most of this information comes from a Kotaku article which alerted me to the situation.)

#amano pikamee #vtuber #hogwarts legacy #discourse #transphobia #social media #news

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larsheidenreich · 11 months ago

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Navigating the Palimpsests of Rome: Renzo Piano and Zaha Hadid in Flaminio

Stepping into the historic heart of Rome, one is immediately struck by the city's layered tapestry of history, a testament to its enduring legacy as an epicenter of human civilization. Amidst the grandeur of ancient ruins and the Renaissance artistry that graces its streets, the Flaminio district emerges as a vibrant contemporary hub, where the past seamlessly intertwines with the present. This harmonious coexistence is embodied in the architectural works of two visionary architects, Renzo Piano and Zaha Hadid, who have embraced the concept of palimpsest to create buildings that both respect the city's rich heritage and boldly assert their own unique identities.

The term "palimpsest" originates from the ancient practice of reusing parchment by scraping off the original text and writing over it. In architecture, it refers to the creation of new structures that retain traces of the past, creating a dynamic dialogue between the old and the new. This approach is particularly evident in the works of Renzo Piano and Zaha Hadid in the Flaminio district, where they have masterfully integrated their designs into the surrounding historical context, breathing new life into the cityscape while preserving its architectural heritage.

Renzo Piano's Auditorium Parco della Musica epitomizes the palimpsest concept. Inspired by the ancient Roman use of concrete and the traditional red brickwork of the surrounding area, the Auditorium's design incorporates Roman-style handmade bricks and features a section of the site dedicated to the ancient Roman ruins that were unearthed during construction. This respectful integration of the past with the present creates a sense of continuity and authenticity, while also allowing for the creation of a vibrant and modern cultural center.

In contrast, Zaha Hadid's MAXXI Museum takes a more transformative approach to the palimpsest concept. Hadid's design for the museum is characterized by its bold and futuristic aesthetic, which stands in stark contrast to the traditional buildings of Rome. This contrast has been the source of much debate, with some critics arguing that the museum is an unwelcome intrusion into the city's historic fabric, while others view it as a bold statement of the city's forward-looking spirit.

Those who argue that the MAXXI Museum is an eyesore often point to its undulating concrete facade, which they say clashes with the smooth lines of the surrounding buildings. They also criticize the museum's interior, which they say is too dark and labyrinthine.

However, those who defend the MAXXI Museum argue that its futuristic design is precisely what makes it so striking and memorable. They say that the gallery is a welcome addition to the city's skyline, and that its interior is a unique and inspiring space for art viewing.

Ultimately, whether or not one appreciates the MAXXI Museum is a matter of personal taste. However, there is no doubt that the gallery is a significant architectural landmark, and that it has sparked a lively debate about the role of contemporary architecture in historic cities.

As I continue my architectural journey through Europe, I am eager to see how other architects have grappled with the challenge of creating new structures in historic settings. I believe that this is a crucial issue for the future of architecture, and that we need to find ways to preserve our architectural heritage while also allowing for the creation of innovative and inspiring spaces that nod to the past but also embrace the future.

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realjaysumlin · 11 months ago

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The unwelcome revival of ‘race science’ | Race | The Guardian

"The unwelcome revival of ‘race science’ | Race | The Guardian" https://amp.theguardian.com/news/2018/mar/02/the-unwelcome-revival-of-race-science

The damaging derogatory of dubious science is still harming Black children at a growing rate and yet Black parents are not fighting this harmful effects on their own children. Many of these Black parents are not aware of scientific racism or they seem to not care.

This is something that no human being should allow or condone without absolute rejection of this false and dangerous idea. There's no such thing as race but the effects of white domination and white supremacy needs to be stopped dead in it's track because it leads to take toll on innocent children who have done nothing to a people who think they are superior to all humans.

Many school teachers and other professionals believe in this fake science and without any knowledge of how the so call white race is just a myth and the reason behind this harmful construct. You can't call yourself a parent if you don't protect your own children.

You can't feel hopeless in situations like this because it's the same as taking your own child to a slaughter house to be slaughtered right before your own eyes.

I'm glad to be a part of the Black on Black Love Movement because we are doing the parents job for them because they seem to be unaware of what is going on and we can see this in Florida and other red states where they are rejecting teaching critical race theory as it's something to make so call white kids feel guilty and my counter argument is what about our Black children?

Who is fighting for them? Who is caring that they are being harmed? This is something that every Black Indigenous Parents should be combating this by any means necessary because their Black Children should matter.

#black love #black positivity #black africans #black history #science #evolution #science side of tumblr #atheism #african atheism #black women #global black solidarity #global black on black love #global black women love #global black unity #global black children education matters

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jejuboo-s · 2 years ago

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PRESS YOUR NUMBER.

PAIRING: Jeonghan x FEM!Reader

GENRE: Smut

A/N: PLEASE reblog, if you’re a fic writer you know better than anybody else that likes don’t do alot in the algorithm. PLUS give constructive criticism please, I am very open to it :D

CONTENT INCLUDES: “Inexperienced” reader, blowjob, swearing, mention of knife (don’t worry, nothing kinky just washing dishes), pet-names mentioned, nothing too hard/more vanilla

SUMMARY: Seeing Jeonghan coming to your house unwelcome after a run manspreading on your couch, sweating, must’ve really turned on a switch inside of you.

Explicit content under the cut, please proceed with CAUTION.

Letting water pour on your figure, you lathered soap all around yourself, sighing, letting the hot water take you somewhere far away.

Zoning out in the shower was one of your favorite things to do. Well, it was an enjoyable habit of yours when things were silent, snapping out of your daze after you hear keys jingling in the distance.

‘Must be him again.’ You cried. Turning off the shower head followed by the water while stepping outside of your shower, grabbing a towel to dry both your hair and body.

“Hey, Y/N, you in there? If you are, I’ll treat myself to some water—I’m practically dying from thirst.” Sighing again, seriously, this guy was so frustrating.

Wrapping the towel around your body, dropping it down your cleavage slightly, you unlocked the door before stepping out to see Jeonghan drinking water, his head looking up at the ceiling showing his adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Fuck, was he so hot. Sweat running down his body, softly panting, chugging a bottle of water. And of course, he seemed to note this thought too from the way you stopped to stare at him—a towel still being the only thing covering your body.

“I know I’m hot, but I don’t think I need to be reminded, pretty girl.” He mused. Face becoming the same soft pink color of your ears, he snickered while watching you run to your door to open and slam it shut.

“Seriously, your teasing is getting out of hand. Not everything’s about you.”

“Your staring was saying otherwise.”

“Listen— why do you even—”

Everything that came out of his mouth was nonsense til’ you looked up at him from your kitchen, manspreading on your couch, taking up all the space.

About to find another thing to scold him on, you looked again admiring how his blonde hair stuck to his forehead, how the hem of his sweatpants fit so snug on his body.

‘Fuck.’ You thought. A pool of heat started forming near your thighs, fantasizing yourself kneeling before him, sharp eyes looking down on you begging for you to go on.

Your thoughts went too far though, biting your lip hard enough to snap your self out of your little fantasy. He probably wouldn’t mind but you guys had only been together for 10 months, would he really not mind?

Of course you felt guilty, you were someone who wasn’t as experienced so you’d probably feel guilty even a year, hell even a year and a half.

Watching how you were about to wash a knife without the sponge and cut your hand from being so deep into thought, Jeonghan called out your name in panic.

“What’s the matter ‘Hannie?” You asked, subconsciously setting the knife down into the sink.

“Would you mind coming to sit next me, baby? Do the dishes later.”

Grabbing a paper towel drying your hands and the cold sweat you had broken out into while day-dreaming, you went to sit down next to your boyfriend.

“What’s wrong love? I know I’ve been joking around but—you seem to be blanking out a lot, I’m just concerned is all.” You gulped hearing him say this so innocently, no thoughts but keeping you safe mentally and physically.

“‘Hannie. What if— hypothetically, let’s say that I, hypothetically, were feeling more sexually attracted to someone and wanted to engage in something sexually with said person, what would you say if you were that person?”

His eyes widened slightly, slowing the caressing of your face, of course he knew right off the bat that it wasn’t hypothetical all and it was just a facade but he never expected something like this from his oh-so innocent girlfriend.

“Babe, if you needed some attention you didn’t need to be so shy about it.” He said, you waved your hands in denial you then began to reluctantly explain how you wanted him inside of your mouth, not vice-versa.

“Oh? Is my baby going to please me? How thoughtful of you.” Stroking your face again, he kissed the top of your forehead before tapping the inside of his legs motioning for you to kneel.

You untied his sweatpants followed by taking off his boxers revealing his proud and hard dick, your mouth gaped a bit. How had you never noticed how thick your boyfriend was?

“Just a little tip, be careful with your teeth. Wouldn’t want you to bite anything off, yeah?”

Licking your lips to ready yourself you took most of him, gagging when trying to take the rest.

“Don’t force yourself to take all of me, we can get through that together, it’s only your first time after-all.”

Listening to his words you used one hand to jerk off the rest of his length, and the other as support, grabbing onto his thigh.

You got used to having him in your mouth and after not even a minute you started bobbing you head up and down—hand following the same movement all while your tongue swirls against his tip.

“What the actual fuck— how the hell are you.. this good for your first— shit.” He panted. This is exactly how you wanted to see him. Instead of looking down you decided you wanted to look up at him and that’s exactly what you did.

That simple eye-contact made everything 100x better, your big doe eyes looking at him just made him gape his mouth slightly more open, eyes rolling to the back of his head—nails scratching the couch.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I think I’m gonna come—please just—”

Speeding your pace, he couldn’t take it anymore and took a handful of your hair, using your mouth to his own needs. You choked a little yes, but you got used to it—that was until he released in your mouth.

“Mmh, I’m sooorrrrrrrry baby. You just felt too good.”

don’t claim as yours © jonghour

#🌪️ jonghour #💗 lee’s svt works #jeonghan #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #seventeen #kpop smut #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x reader smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen x reader smut #jeonghan fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader fluff

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queerwolf79 · 3 years ago

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Tips from a Creative Writing grad student: Concrit on Fanworks.

So you want to leave critical feedback on that fanwork? You're under the impression that because it is posted for free on the Internet, that gives you the right to throw your opinion out there?

Alright, say I buy that. Say we look at Archive of our Own as a big ol' open workshop. Something writers use, by the way, as they're writing/editing their manuscript (the workshop not AO3 lol). For fan authors, this usually comes in the form of the fierce, powerful beta.

Here's some tips on how to give constructive criticism from someone who is literally a term away from having their Master of Fine Arts in creative writing.

First: authors who are wanting/needing feedback will seek it out, usually by participating in workshops or enlisting others to read and give said feedback.

None of which happens in already posted fanfic world unless the author otherwise specifies in their notes. But like I said, let's pretend it's a big open workshop and it is your job to help your fellow writer improve.

So now it's time to leave that feedback! So, in every single one of my classes in which we had to provide and receive feedback on original flash fiction, or pieces of our thesis, the number one rule? Be kind!

Yes, you are absolutely allowed to voice your opinions on parts that rubbed you wrong! But there are ways to frame it without insulting the author or the work. And if you have an issue with a line, or a scene, or a character, what that criticism MUST be accompanied by is constructive actionable feedback.

That means, if you're going to tell the author what is wrong with their work, you must absolutely recommend ways to fix it. You don't get to just say, "this doesn't make sense." Nope. You have to delve deeper, why is it confusing? And what could the writer do to clarify things? A little more descriptive narrative? Changing the dialogue? What?

If it bothers you enough to voice it, then clearly you know a better way to convey it and must share that information, otherwise you're literally just filing a formal complaint.

Most concritters would get an F in my classes.

Next: for every negative comment, there must be a positive one. "I didn't like X, but I loved Y." Most of the time, the unwelcome concritters will claim to have liked the work, but rarely do you see any commentary on the bits they did like.

Anyway, my personal rule of thumb is the Oreo method, two compliments for every critique.

At the end of the day though, if the author isn't asking for said constructive criticism, it is not your job to provide it. Trust me when I say, every piece of fiction goes through some sort of workshopping process, whether asking a friend/partner/family member to look it over, or dutiful betas. The fact of the matter is, through the writing and editing process, everything is looked at under a microscope and do things get missed? Absolutely! But by the time the piece is published, or in this case, posted to AO3, it is done. Finished.

Now any commentary given is either a good or a bad review. So if you have nothing nice to say about that fanfiction you just read, you aren't providing concrit or feedback, you're leaving a bad review.

Because the thing is, the story is finished. You aren't capable of providing constructive feedback because it's no longer in the editing or writing phase. It is done. I mean, Neil Gaiman isn't rewriting Coraline because someone who read the published book had issue with buttons for eyes: "How do you see?!! Explain the biology here!"

And that fanfiction author you accosted is not going to rewrite what they just put love, sweat, and free time into.

But just for fun, let's give you an idea of how much time writing and posting fanfiction can take:

I wrote a 1900 word short fix it fic for OFMD the other day. Less than 2k, and you know how long it took me? Writing it took 3 hours, editing it took an additional 30 minutes, double checking lines by rewatching certain scenes took another 30 or so minutes, and then setting it up to post on AO3 and share on SM took another 40 or so minutes. Almost 5 hours for a less than 2k fic. Imagine how much longer it takes for a fic that is 40k? 60k? 100k+??

So, what's my advice, if you're just dying to leave concrit on someone's fanwork?

Don't. Got nothing nice to say? Then move along. Your commentary doesn't make an author better, writing does. And we are much less inclined to write if all we get is negativity and "constructive" criticism.

#constructive criticism #fanfiction #unsolicited criticism #how to give feedback on free fanworks:#Don't

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

Text

just a little downhill.

mickey x reader

summary: after a hard day of work, mickey comes home to a very unwelcome and unexpected guest: his little brother.

word count: 4.5k

a/n: mickey and his brother goodness! as briefly discussed, kevin’s face claim is pete davidson (: and if you’re curious, here is another discussion of mickey’s parents. i hope you enjoy and if you do, i’d love to hear it (:

Although Mickey had been out from under his parents order for years now, he never seemed to shake the responsibilities they had assigned him.

When Mickey was old enough, with a high school diploma under his belt and not much else, he escaped two towns over to flee his parents and their needs. To, at the time, do his best to escape their overbearing asks and assumptions of him. He took very little when he fled in the night; a few articles of well worn clothing; his box of drugs and corresponding paraphernalia; an envelope of mementos of his relationship with you; and you, as well. You both escaped your grim situations with wild eyes and hearts, between flurried kisses and giggles, you made your way to your new lives.

Now, all these years later, you both were still shacked up in your cozy ground floor apartment, with it’s warped tiles and shag carpets, and Mickey had never been happier. Sure, he worked a demanding manual labor job and he had few future prospects, but he was on his own and living with the woman he loved. To Mickey, there truly wasn’t anything better than that. He suspected he could be forsaken to any living conditions, demands or labor, but as long as he had you by his side, he would be happy as a clam.

You were the one who kept him sane. The one who taught him how to float instead of thrashing in the water. The one who taught him the gentle caress of love. The one who was the only salve for any and all problems that were thrown his way.

And when it came to his chaotic life, he needed your healing touch more often than he would like to admit.

Because while the distance between him and his turbulent family offered excuses for why he couldn’t invariably swoop in and save the day, the milage didn’t often deter his parents from calling on Mickey whenever they needed something. Their expectations still held true no matter the separation.

Mickey was expected to come over and soothe tensions when their fights reached a volume to where the neighbors got involved.

Mickey was expected to drop everything, no matter the circumstance, to help wrangle their old mutt whenever he escaped and began to terrorize the neighborhood kids.

Mickey was expected to drive the hour to their trailer whenever there was an appliance that needed fixing. Usually after his father had stormed off in frustration when he couldn’t do it himself.

Mickey was also expected to fix a litany of other things that his parents refused to call in an expert about, but had no problem pawning it off on their son (even if he was no more qualified to fix things then they were).

But above all, Mickey was expected to look out for his little brother. To watch out for him, and to take care of him when he couldn’t take care of himself. This had always been his most fervently requested task, and possibly the one he resented the most.

And when he came home to find his fuck to of a little brother with his back against the brick siding of Mickey’s apartment building, a joint between his lips and his head angled toward the sun, he knew his everlasting duty to care for the kid was about to rear its ugly head once more.

Today was just an exceptionally bad day for this to happen.

Because before he even saw Kevin’s face, it had been a day where he had just wanted to come home, lay his head on your lap as you pressed delicate kisses to his skin. He needed to be enveloped in your soothing smell and coaxed into relaxation by your voice. He just needed you, because today had been awful. The last thing he needed was to deal with any member of his fucking family.

The day started off with the buddy he carpooled with burning a hole in his brand new seat cover on the way to work. Then it was announced that OSHA would be monitoring their site they were at for the morning, which meant nothing got done and the crew was way behind schedule. When lunch rolled around, Mickey dropped his sandwich on the ground, which caused his coworkers to start an uproar of teasing and laughter whenever he was around. And, of course, after he was already in their crosshairs, his drill decided to stop working, which only fueled the other mens mocking.

And to make it all worse, his mother had been calling on a loop since noon. He refused to answer, not wanting to deal with her drunk ramblings or vicious criticisms, which just meant that the calls kept coming. Now that he thought of it, he was sure the sudden vibration in his pocket had been the reason he had dropped his sandwich in the first place.

Thanks mom. Fuck you.

“The fuck are you doing here, Kev?” Mickey grunted from around his cigarette as he approached his front door.

“Didn't Ma call?”

“I don’t answer her calls sober,” he shoved his key into the lock and pushed the door open with his shoulder.

As the door opened, Mickey cringed as Kevin quickly sprang to his feet and pushed past him into his home. He had expected it, but it still made his stomach drop as it happened. When Kevin planted himself somewhere, he was often hard to peel back up. Last time Kevin had come over to beg for money, he didn’t leave for four days, leaving a permanent lanky body print in Mickey’s couch.

“Can’t really blame you for that,” Kevin chuckled as he collapsed onto the living room couch in a huff, “we didn’t invent The Scale for nothin’.”

The Scale referred to the made up increment system the two invented in middle school on how high they had to be to pleasantly deal with their parents. Their mother was usually a Bill and Ted and their father was always at very least Cheech and Chong. The brothers sometimes would still refer to The Scale when they were going through a spurt of getting along. But this was not one of those times.

Mickey hadn’t seen Kevin on an unencumbered social call in over two years. Kevin used to visit every weekend; to party, play video games or just spend time with his older brother; but now it was only under the guise of extorting money (that Mickey really didn’t have to give) or in a search of a place to crash while he was on the outs with their parents or whatever girl he was currently seeing.

Because of his mother’s incessant calls and Kevin’s mention of her, he assumed it was the latter this time.

“Yeah, well clearly you’ve already started,” Mickey grouched, as he tilted his head to the blunt that was still between his brother’s lips.

Mickey was anything but a prude, but when his deadbeat brother came swaggering into his home with no humility or shame, smoking pot and bogarting his couch, Mickey suddenly turned into a stuffy Christian mother, sticking his nose up and huffing at the mention of any illicit substance.

“Oh, I’m sorry man, you wanna hit?” Kevin asked, completely oblivious to his brother’s annoyance.

“What are you doing here, Kev?”

Kevin’s eyebrows raised at Mickey’s bluntness and whistled low under his breath, before settling back against the couch.

“Take the stick out of you ass, Jesus Mick,”

“I’m serious, Kev. What is it? Spit it out, I had a long fucking day. I don’t have the patience to deal with this.”

“You sound like dad,” Kevin chuckled, smoke billowed from his mouth as he propped long legs onto the coffee table.

His tolerance for Kevin running thin already, Mickey marched over to the couch and shoved his legs from the coffee table with haste. Kevin’s eyes grew wide with surprise and slight betrayal when he looked at his brother again.

“I’m not fucking around, Kevin! (Y/N) is gonna be home any minute and I want you gone when she gets here,” Mickey raked a hand through his tousled locks and went in search of his work coat to find a new cigarette.

“(Y/N) loves me,”

“Yeah, because you prey on her kindness. Now tell me what it is or I’m calling dad to pick you up.”

That seemed to scare him enough to reveal the reason for his visit.

“I need a job.”

And there it was. Mickey let out an encompassing sigh as he turned his back to his baby brother. This wasn’t the first time Kevin had asked for a job, and Mickey doubted it would be the last.

Others might applaud his brother’s initiative to better himself and search for personal contacts to find him work, but Mickey knew better. He had tried to help him get a job more times than he could count, and Kevin always did something to fuck it up.

Whether it be never showing up, being high on the clock, failing drug tests or fighting with customers and coworkers, something always went wrong. Mickey had burned many a bridge to defend his brother from these employers, because no matter how insane Kevin made him, he was still his brother and he would be damned if anyone said a bad word about him. Other than him, of course.

“Yeah? And what the fuck am I supposed to do about that?” Mickey challenged.

“Talk to Stephen,” Kevin replied simply.

“Fuck no!” Mickey almost laughed, “Man, I need this job, I can’t have you fucking it up for me.”

“I won’t! I won’t fuck it up!”

“Yeah, ok. Whatever you say, Kev.”

“I’m being serious!”

“No, no way, dude. No, Kev. I can’t lose this job. I got bills and shit, now! Did you know you have to pay for garbage pick up at a place like this? Because I sure as shit didn’t! We can’t even bury it like dad did,” Mickey lectured, “and y’know what? I got a girl, one I’d really like to fucking keep. Which means actually keeping this stupid construction job to keep paying for fucking garbage. I can’t have you gettin’ us both canned.”

“I’ve changed, Mick. I have!” Kevin reinforced when his brother rolled his eyes, “I’m twenty four now. I got like, perspective on stuff, and shit.”

“Kev, -“ Mickey started, but didn’t continue as he heard a key in the front lock.

Seconds later you appeared, hair piled high on your head and still adorning your work uniform. Even with his brother pissing him off and the weight of an awful day on his shoulders, Mickey couldn’t stop the goofy smile that spread over his face when he saw you. Worn from a hard day and in your boxy hotel maid get up, you were still the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hey, baby,” Mickey said as he crossed the living room quickly to greet you.

“Hi, baby,” you looked up at him, a similar lovesick smile on your lips as Mickey wrapped you in a crushing embrace.

You craned your head back to capture his pouted lips in a kiss. They will tinged with more nicotine than usual, and you knew something was off before you pulled apart. Your hands had begun to inch toward Mickey’s nape when you heard movement on the couch. When you pulled away, you saw him

“Oh, hey, Kev. I didn’t see you there, honey,” you offered him a kind smile as you moved to rest your cheek on Mickey’s chest.

Mickey tried to keep the scowl off his face as his brother grinned at you.

“How ya been, (Y/N/N)? Man, it feels like it’s been ages!” his brother charmed, pushing up from the couch to come meet you for a hug.

When you pulled away from Mickey to do so, Mickey swore you were taking a part of his resolve with you.

“It has, you don’t come ‘round like you used to,” you said, parting from Kevin to smoothe your hands over his broad, boney shoulders. As you inspected Mickey’s baby brother, you spied something new, “this a new addition?”

You poked the ridge of black ink peeking out of his t-shirt, just below his collar bone.

“Awh, yeah. Yeah it is,” Kevin pulled down the collar of his shirt enough for you to see the tattoo that joined the ranks of his many others, “it’s the Brooklyn Bridge.”

“Oh,” you said, a little surprised by the choice, but admiried it nonetheless, “I like it. It’s nice linework. Can’t say the same for the rest of ‘em, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, very funny!”

You winked up at him before you removed yourself from his orbit to return to Mickey’s. Though, on your way back to your man, you saw the firm look of displeasure on his face, and that face was directed firmly at his brother. You stopped in your tracks and traded glances between the two boys, one angry and one bashful, before you spoke.

“Alright, what’s goin’ on?”

“What do you think is goin’ on?” “Nothin’.” the brothers spoke in unison.

You turned your gaze hard at Mickey. He let silence hang in the air for a long beat before he spoke.

“Kev is lookin’ for a hand out. But what’s new?” Mickey scoffed. He planted a swift kiss to the crown of your head before he walked past the both of you to the kitchen.

“Hey, fuck you man! All I was asking for was help!” Kevin shot back, he turned quickly on his heel to face his brother.

“I can’t give you any fuckin’ help, Kev! Look what I got,” Mickey waved widley, “there ain’t shit here to give!”

“You could give me your contacts, I could start sellin’ the shit you have left from -”

“You aren’t taking my contacts and you’re not touching the shit I got from Georgia. That’s mine to do what I please with,” Mickey bellowed, yelling louder than you’d ever heard before, “I don’t need you fucking up the relationship I have with my clients, either.”

“Clients,” Kevin said in a mocking, posh accent, “their fucking drug addicts!”

“Yeah? And what the fuck are you, again?”

“What the fuck am I? What the fuck are you, man?”

The two had slowly begun to advance toward each other in their squabble, and now were only a pace apart. You knew if they were to get any closer, fists would be thrown. It wouldn’t be a good fight, neither boy had ever been good in physical altercations. The fight would likely consist of misthrown punches and cheap shot kicks, but that didn’t matter. You didn’t want either to get hurt or take anything too far.

“That’s enough!” you shouted over their bickering, “Mick, c’mon. Come talk to me in the bedroom, please.”

Mickey’s angry expression faltered the moment he looked over Kevin’s shoulder at you, “Baby, I can handle this.”

“Mickey. Bedroom. Now.” you had already started to head that way, and Mickey knew if he wasn’t right behind you, he’d be in deep shit.

With a petulant sigh, he followed you down the hall to the bedroom and shut the door behind him when he entered. You had sat on the edge of the bed and Mickey found his place to slouch against the opposite wall.

“I can’t deal with him, baby. I can’t deal with his bullshit anymore,” he said, defeated.

“He’s your brother, Mick. You love him. And sometimes the people you love need more help than you do.”

“But that’s the thing, he needs so much more. He takes and he takes and he takes, and somehow, he still needs more. I can’t give him anything else. No one can. He’s more of a fuck up than I am, and that’s saying something,” Mickey puffed.

“You’re not a fuck up, Mick,” you frowned, your brows peaking with heartache.

Mickey gave you a pointed look, “I kinda am. You don’t gotta sugar coat it.”

You stood from the bed and crossed the short space between you two. When you reached him, you wrapped your arms around his waist and nestled close to his chest. Mickey accepted your embrace easily and gratefully.

“You are not a fuck up, baby. You have a good job, you have a good life. You provide for me, for our little two person family. And you make me happier than I ever thought possible... you simply aren’t a fuck up because no man I love could be,” you smiled at the tail end of your sentence.

You propped your chin on his chest like you had minutes earlier and looked deep into his green eyes, both soft and brimming with adoration.

“I fucking love you so much, you know that?” he smiled, little crow's feet growing by his eyes as he did.

“I do. And I love you, too.”

Mickey sighed, relaxation soothing his muscles at the sound of your confession. He gently pressed your cheek back to his chest and reveled in the feeling of your body against his.

“But really, baby, what are we gonna do about Kev?” you asked after a moment of calm.

Mickey’s brows furrowed, the pressure behind them intense and blaring.

“He’s not our problems, baby. He’s an adult.”

“He is. But he’s also a sweet kid with a good heart, and he just needs some extra help. And I think we should try to help, at least the best we can.”

Mickey’s head made a thud as he collapsed to the wall behind him, “baby, we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep bailing him out. We can’t keep bailing them out.”

The image of his parents popped behind his eyes, both fragile and gray and somehow even crueler than ever. He didn’t want to spend his life being their eternal whipping boy, cleaning up their messes when they couldn’t. And that included the mess they had made in his brother.

“This isn’t about them, alright? Fuck them, you know precisely what I think of your parents,” you frowned, and Mickey felt his heart pick up with pride at your protectiveness, “but you also know what I think about Kevin. He really is a good kid deep down. He’s talented. He just needs a little more support before he’s gonna feel comfortable jumping out on his own.”

“He still drives me fucking insane…” Mickey retorted.

“He’s your little brother, of course he does.”

“Baby, he really does. You have no idea how much that little shit gets under my skin.”

“Oh, c’mon! You love him! He’s like, sad, high, tattooed Big Bird,” you giggled as you heard a grumble vibrate in Mickey’s chest.

“Yeah? Well, then what am I?”

You pulled away from him once more, but only far enough to look him in the eyes.

“You’re like, strong, sexy, smart Big Bird,” you said, your voice a seductive purr as you placed a few chaste kisses to his jaw, “or Snuffleupagus.”

Mickey’s face twisted in confusion and slight disgust, “why?”

“Because he was always my favorite when I was a kid.”

And his expression instantly extinguished into one of warmth and tenderness. Emerald eyes bathing you in liquid love.

“You just never stop being cute, do you?” he grinned.

“Nope,” you said, letting the work pop from your lips.

He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and took a deep breath of your pheromones; your sun bathed skin and your sweet smelling hair. And as he let his lips stay perched on your skull, he realized that he would do anything for you, no matter the request. He had had this feeling many times before; of his overwhelming and striking devotion to you; though it never ceased to rattle his swelling heart in his chest, and remind him the exact reason he was put on this earth: to make you happy.

So, if you wanted him to try and help Kevin, then he would. It was the least he could do for all the happiness and love you brought to him.

But, if he was being honest with himself, there was always going to be a part of him that wanted to nurture his baby brother in any way he could.

Somewhere in his mind and his heart, Kevin would always be the small blushing bundle handed off to him in a dingy hospital room. It was one of his first formative memories, his little brother wrapped in a white blanket as his mother’s groggy eyes looked upon both of them. Mickey had never held a baby, let alone a newborn, and the tiny writhing creature looked very strange to him, red and angry and crying.

A month before Mickey’s mother would give birth to Kevin, their father had stormed out of the house, and by the time her water had broken he had still yet to turn. So pained and afraid, his mother had piled Mickey in the car after her and drove them both to the hospital. A cigarette in one hand, while her other gave the steering wheel a death grip. As she groaned with contractions and cursed at the traffic, she said something to him that he never forgot:

“You are the real man of the house, Mickey-honey,” she said in her graveled voice, “this little boy is always gonna look up to you. You gotta live up to that.”

And that message had bounced around between his ears as his mother, alone and in extraordinary agony, gave birth to his brother. Who as he had held him in his tiny spindly arms, Mickey knew that he would keep him safe forever. No matter what.

A part of that soul promise to his blood now seemed to be finding Kevin a job to keep him afloat. To keep him out of trouble and away from falling down the path their parents had. He honored past his past self in that moment, continuing on with the pledge to keep his brother safe.

“Fine,” Mickey muttered to your skin, “we’ll help ‘im.”

“Really?”

Mickey simply shrugged.

You moved your hands from where they had been secured behind his waist to come and cradle his cheeks, “you’re a good man, Mick.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he played off, eyelids fluttering.

“The best man I know,” and you kissed him tenderly, the soft feeling of your lips electrifying him.

He hummed when you pulled away, but with more anguish than pleasure.

“Let’s get this over with,” Mickey said. He quickly untangled himself from you and exited the bedroom before you could even process your post kiss haze.

“Kev,” Mickey called, finding his brother laying down on the couch now, the television remote in his hand as he flipped channels, “get the fuck up.”

“Hey, woah, listen Mickey, alright? I’m sorry! I am, I’m sorry,” Kevin began, stammering nervously.

Mickey could tell that his brother was trying to save face. That he was trying to bargain for his help, and that he believed that Mickey was coming back to tell him to leave and never come back. But he didn’t stop him, Mickey thought Kevin deserved to squirm a bit.

“I know I’ve fucked up, like really fucked up over and over again. But I got this this time, ok? I’m like, I’m ready for, I don’t know, a fresh start. I’m ready to do better.”

Mickey simply crossed his arms as his brother stared up at him with heavy set brown eyes. They were flickering around the room, scared to look at his older brother who loomed over him. Mickey was sure he was searching for you, knowing he could always grovel at your feet for sympathy.

“Fuck! What am I supposed to say, stop being such a-“ but Kevin stopped himself before he finished, knowing it likely wasn’t smart to start name calling the person he was asking a favor of.

“No, no, continue. What am I being? Hm?” Mickey raised an eyebrow.

Kevin’s jaw tightened, “.... a really, good guy.”

His pained voice would have made Mickey laugh if he wasn’t wearing a stoic persona. It reminded him of when Kevin was forced to apologize as a child, their dad’s hand pulling up his ear as he spat out an apology.

“Imma ask around, alright? Been hearing about some landscape work a buddy of mine has been talking about. I’ll call you tomorrow.” he finally said, putting his anxious brother out of his misery.

“No shit?” Kevin asked with a suspicious lilt.

“No shit. And if you get the fuck out of my house in the next five seconds, I might even put in a good word for you.”

“Fuck,” Kevin exhaled, his body deflated like a balloon against the cushion, “you have no idea-“

“Nope, I don’t,” Mickey interjected, “and I don’t want to. Now fuck off, dude. My lady is home and I don’t need you here.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, alright!” Kevin said as he was shooed off the couch and to the door, “thank you, (Y/N/N), you hear me, babe?”

You heard the commotion from the bedroom and popped your head out to watch Mickey escorting Kevin out. Stripped down from your uniform and now bundled in a pair of Mickey’s thread bear sweatpants and his favorite Scorpions t-shirt.

“You look gorgeous, by the way! So good, does Mickey tell you enough?” Kevin had widened his gangly limbs in the door frame to keep his brother, who was shoving him quite hard, to stop him from leaving.

“He does, Kev. I promise,” you grinned at the brotherly exchange as they threw jabs at each other, “I’ll see you soon, honey.”

“Bye, (Y/N/N)!” was the last thing Kevin got out before Mickey slammed the door in his face, not worrying about if there were stray fingers left behind.

“That fucking kid…” Mickey said under his breath, locking the deadbolt with a resound click.

You pushed away from where you had leant against the wall and walked toward him, “my man… my sweet, strong man who has such a big heart and helps out his family.”

You plastered yourself to his back, bringing your hands down to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, “my man who provides for me,” you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “for the people he loves,” one to his trap, “who is the best person I’ve ever known,” one to his neck.

Mickey whimpered under your ministrations, caught up in the whispered pleasure of your lips and nimble fingers that greedily took inventory of his torso.

“You’re really tryin’ to start something, huh?” he chuckled as you began to suck on his pulse point.

“And if I was?”

As soon as the last syllable left your mouth, Mickey had twisted around to take handfuls of your thighs to hitch you up around his waist.

You couldn’t hold in the excited giggle that bubbled from your chest as he marched you both back toward your room in quick succession. His long strides getting you both back between the sheets in no time. All thoughts of dropped sandwiches and burn holes and faulty equipment and pesky little brothers, gone. Now, there was only you, and that was just the way Mickey liked it.

if you follow me you know that i have been going through a major writing block and a creativity dry spell, so while i don’t think this is my best work, it is fun and silly and soft and nice to write (: if you enjoyed, i would really love it hear it <3 ‘til next time!

#mickey x reader #mickey villains #mickey villains x reader #mickey villains imagine #mickey villains imagines #mickey villains fanfic #mickey imagine #mickey imagines #mickey villains fanfiction #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard fanfiction #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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bowldeepfannish · 4 years ago

Text

A Fandom (N)Etiquette Recap In 4 Points Based On Experience By Yours Truly. (Take it with a grain of salt - or many -).

This was sparked by some recent unfortunate events involving both me and some people close to me. While it started from/with fanart it can be applied to all kinds of [fan]works really, and not just fanworks tbh...

1) Rules [of anatomy/characterization issues/characterization/themes choice/lore of choice]: friendly reminder that even if/when there are guidelines and popular takes or types, seeing someone not following them by some degree can be due to a variety of reasons, including being a beginner to experimenting to making a specific point, to projecting part of self onto a character/representation for whatever their reasons, to just knowing the ‘rules’ (they might have a degree about said rules even *hint hint*) and still DECIDING TO BEND DEM RULES AS THEY PLEASE IF THEY SO DECIDE it's entirely up to the author(s) because that's also - google it up - artistic license. It’s - to use an euphemism - extremely rude to presume that whatever different take from one own opinion must stem from ignorance and bad faith and double standards or being unfair or committing crimes against fictional characters if not against humanity by just daring to share for free and for fun a personal rendition - of whatever the source work/medium is - that does not align with your oh-so-superior-holier-than-thou perception. No one is harming fictional characters or is out to ‘misrepresent’ a character ( = your preferred and by nature subjective view of a character) on purpose and/or doing it as a personal attack to you.

2) Realism is not the only legit aim of fanart or of art in general. Neither is morality.

3) Fanworks can run the whole gamut from Word Of God to ‘Death of The Author’. They are fanworks. Incidentally if one is not the Author nothing said random person says can be considered ‘canon’/better/truer per se and even if said person were the creator or their PR... Death Of The Author, baby. You oh fellow fan and fan creator do not get to police or ‘allow’ other fan&creators’s thoughts and opinions or to ‘fix’ them, because they are as valid as anyone else’s experiencing and/or creating fanworks about the same character and issues/themes. Relatedly...

4) the only opinion that matters to me on how to make a piece or alter it is mine and my partner's and the mods/curators in case of collabs, commissions, or zine and events that have terms/guidelines. As long as the involved parties *agree* and *consent*/are on the same page to reach an artistic outcome that feels true to the agreed upon vision that’s all that matters to me. Outside of that any negative or policing opinion especially if uninvited and unrequired are unnecessary and unwelcome when not outright harmful to *real people* for which said oh-so-offensive fanwork can as easily be a source of empowerment, catharsis, or solace.

--- Golden rules: - constructive criticism is only good when you are requested to give it by the author and it’s actually constructive instead of dressing personal differences in opinion as anything more than personal and subjective opinions or use them to make uninformed, disingenuous and harmful to real people assumptions of the other party’s culture, awareness, mental capacity, fairness, or morality. - backhanded compliments are not concrit. If you have nothing nice to say better saying nothing. - you can be supportive, create, finance/commission of the kind of content you like to see and are passionate about, without demeaning other people’s preferences and work in the process. It’s not that hard. Like for shipping characters, squicks, triggers... don’t like do not read/watch/listen to. Just do not engage with the content you don’t vibe with, and curate your own experience by revelling in what you enjoy and gives you joy. One person’s trash is another person’s treasure. This also includes you. Your beloved kind of content could be seen as trash by someone else, and viceversa. If you wish for respect then you have to give others the same respect in return. - the more condescending and pushy you come on to other fans and creators the less those people are going to respond favourably to create the kind of content you desire, btw. You are self-sabotaging hard. Educate yourself, have a good look at yourself/selves in the mirror, and DO BETTER. Be kind, be respectful. Love begets love. Heavens know life is already hard enough as it is without actively making other people miserable.

#fan wank #ethnocentrism #wake up and smell the antis #fandom netiquette #don't like don't read #censorship #art censorship #in defense of fanworks #beauty is subjective #art is subjective #salt

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oingo233 · 5 years ago

Text

By The Lake* Part One

Summary: A family friend offers you a place to stay to get away from an abusive past. Her home is a place that you are familiar with, an old town with a large lake you spent many days in. You went there years ago for one full summer, where you became close friends with a very young Daryl Dixon. You two were inseparable until you had to leave. But now you’re back, escaping from a past much like his. You will need to weave your way through the town's problematic people, your own problems, and above all the confusing Dixon. Will you two find your way back to each other again? Or will he push you further away? And above all, will your past cease to haunt you?

Part Two * Part Three * Part Four * Part Five

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and violence(potential triggers), cussing, more mature themes(not smut or anything tho), slow burn romance

Authors Note: Daryl Dixon is a character from the amazing show The Walking Dead, but this story is modern AU so not with all the walkers and everything. I don’t own and I didn’t create his character. Also this story is in no means meant to romanticize abuse, that stuff isn’t romantic. It is such a terrible, terrible thing, but it is sadly a very common thing as well. Throughout this series I only hope that I can spread awareness about the matter, and let people know that they aren’t alone, things will get better, and that no one is deserving of any kind of abuse. Ever. Anyways, I’m done with my rant, I hope y’all like it, and if not please send in some constructive criticisms I’m always looking to improve.

Word Count: 1.7k

*******************************************************************************************

I can’t help the dumb smile that spreads across my face, and I can’t help but think of all that is changing. It felt like I could breathe again, that maybe everything will turn out alright. It has been weeks with nothing bad happening, weeks of trying to stop the burning question of “but for how long?” from ruining my mood.

“What are you smiling so big for?” Cherry, my moms best friend and my god mom, stared at me from the drivers side. Before I could answer she cut me off. “Excited to see Daryl again?” She sent me a large wink, and her smile almost matched mine. I shake my head with a loud laugh, and turn to look out the window again. Hopefully she won’t see me blushing.

“God Cherry, we were 13.”I say. She laughs too, her shoulders lazily move up into a shrug.

“Whatever you say.” I glare at her jokingly, and she pokes my side, the car moving dangerously close to the right. She laughs nervously and a small “oops” slips from her lips, before she continues on torturing me. “Well, he is real cute now. A bit quite though, but then again, he always kind of was huh?” You nod silently, watching the tall trees pass in a blur.

Daryl always was so quite, it took you nearly the whole summer to get him to string together a whole sentence. But once you did, nothing could stop him from being with you. Sure, he’d never rant to you or anything, but he’d hold good conversations and what he didn’t tell you, you found easy to pick up on how he acted around you. But this was years ago. You wonder how much has changed, and if you’ll ever be that close with him again?

“Mark ask’s him over sometimes, to work on this old car he bought, ya know just for some help. He’d always ask about you.” We share a look and I stare at my lap soon after, a blanket wrapped around me for the long drive. She must have noticed my behavior because she quickly kept going, enjoying making me blush. “Cute lil thing he is, he’d always work up a blush. ‘How’s (Y/N) doing?’ or ‘(Y/N), she alright?’” She shook her head with a wide smile, but I stare at her with something like horror on my face. I try to calm myself before asking.

“What did you tell him?” He smile drops, her grip on the wheel tighter than before.

“Not the truth. Said you were doing good.” It was silent, her knuckles turned white. “He’d ask about you and Carter...” Her voice trailed off venomously, before giving me a comforting look. “We tell him it’s nothing he has to worry about.” I nod my head. It felt weird for me to thank her for lying for me, but I do anyway. Daryl knowing bout everything, when we haven’t seen or been close to each other in years seems weird, like it would be a burden.

I’m 18 now, Daryl would’ve just turned 19. You blush of thinking of how good looking he must be now. You always found him cute, but 13 was too young to do anything bout it. Although you’d never admit it out loud, you always liked him. He was good to you. Better than your actual boyfriend...

“You okay, honey?” Cherry’s voice breaks the silence, and thankfully your thoughts. You run a hand down your face with a tight smile.

“Just tired, that’s all.” Her smile faded faster than you would have liked it too. You looked into her eyes just in time to catch the glistening pity in them before she faced the road again. She knew your situation, everything you’ve been through.

“I’ll tell the kids not to bug ya then. Let ‘cha rest up first, yeah?” I thank her but decline and face the window once again. I hated sleeping in the car, always preferred watching out the window and thinking bout things instead. But maybe I should try, I wouldn’t want to make the kids sad. I loved those two boogers. Cherry had two little kids with her husband Mark. One little boy named Monty, and a little girl they named Rosie. I don’t even know how old they are now. When I was there for the summer with my family so many years ago, Rosie was just born.

“How old are they now?” I blush, almost ashamed of not knowing. But I can hardly keep track of my life, let alone everyone elses. She puts a hand on my knee, and squeezes it. Instantly, I feel better, and talking about her kids obviously made her feel better too.

“Monty is 8, and Rosie is 5! Monty just got super into dinosaurs, and we can’t keep Rosie out the lake. She just learned how to swim, she got so big...”I listen to her drawl on about her kids with a sweet, unbothered feeling. My excitement grows as she continues to tell me about them, and we are getting closer to their house. Finally we pull into the familiar town, only about 15 minutes from her house now, which would mean we are only 26 minutes from Daryl’s. I try not to think of him, or how nervous I am to see my old close friend, or what goes down in that house.

I knew about what his father did to him, or I think I did. He never told me about it but sometimes he’d stop by the old cabin on Cherry’s property where my mom and I stayed, and he’d be crying. We’d sit by the lake in silence, sometimes I’d be hugging him and tracing the lumps and scars under his clothes, other times I’d catch a glimpse of a bruise on his face in the moonlight. But whenever I’d ask, he’d push me away and I wouldn’t see him for a few days after, or until he seemed alright and I was dumb enough to believe that. At my age and time in my life I never knew how bad it was. Not until the same thing happened to me. I never should have left Daryl there, knowing all that I did. How can I face him again with all this guilt? I was a terrible friend...

I feel an unwelcome burn in the back of my eyes and throat right as we pass the ice cream parlor, the car pulled into the parking lot and I smiled brightly. Wiping at my eyes for a brief second before looking at Cherry with raised eyebrows.

“Thought I’d treat ya.” She chuckles at my expression.

“Giving me a place to live isn’t enough?” I laugh out, she laughs too and we climb out of the car. I leave the blanket in the seat, I’d rather die than have anyone here see me with a baby blue fuzzy thing wrapped around my waist.

We step inside and Cherry says a few quick hello’s, and introduces me to some of her friends in there. We grab our ice cream but I recognize an older couple from that blissful summer.

“Mr.Henderson right?” I stop a older looking man from walking out the door, I put my hand out and he takes it with a hint of uncertainty. His eyes scan me for any familiarity. They land on my hair, and then deep in my eyes, his face lights up, before I could tell him who I am he beats me to it.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” He pulls me into a hug, careful not to get chocolate ice cream in my hair. “I don’t believe it! Look at how grown you are! Sharron get over here.” He waves his wife over joyfully from the car, she gives him a loving smile before shaking her head at me.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t reco-” She gasped mid-sentence and pulled me into a hug. She looked back at Mr.Henderson. “This is (Y/N) honey!” He nods at her and she looks back at me grabbing at my hair and twirling it around her finger. I flinch when her fingers first reached for me but she didn’t seem to notice, I’m glad. “Look how beautiful...” She hugs me again.

Mr. and Mrs. Henderson are Cherry’s neighbors, about half a mile out. I used to drag Daryl over there with me so we could grab some of their infamous lemonade every afternoon. We’d stay there for hours and hang out in their tire swing, and their side of the lake has a huge flat rock by the shore. Daryl and I used to lay on it in the hot sun. Mrs.Henderson used to joke that if we weren’t careful we’d cook like eggs. I haven’t seen them since that last summer day, when I went looking for Daryl to say goodbye.

Cherry politely pulled her off me, and gave them a stern look.

“(Y/N)’s a bit tired, I was just about to take her home.”She said. Mrs.Henderson looked at the empty ice cream cup in my hand and frowned.

“Well she can’t sleep with a tum full of ice cream. See Cherry, this is why your kids never sleep on time. You ain’t feedin’ em right.” Cherry raised an eyebrow and looked at her wordlessly, lips pulled tight.

“Well, it was so nice to see you again. But we really should be going, and Mrs.Henderson, this ice cream never gave me any problems before.” I wink and pull Cherry away from them before they start brawling. Mom always got along better with the Henderson's than Cherry did, and they weren’t even our neighbors. I guess that could be why.

Mrs.Henderson grabs my elbow making me tense up. “oh but don’t go. Daryl just got here...look.” Her hand left my elbow and she pointed down the street to a young man that I don’t recognize, walking stiffly towards us. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and arms that looked good in his sleeveless shirt.

As if sensing our eyes on him, he looks up. My mouth slacks as I stare back into his startling blue eyes, the same ones that belong to Daryl Dixon. Daryl stops walking and stares at me, his eyes trail slowly down my body, and back up to my eyes. His face wide with shock, quickly morphs into a scowl. He shakes his head bitterly, brown hair falling on his forehead, and turns around, walking away from us in quick strides.

Out of all the ways I imagined us meeting again, that was not one of them. I can’t help myself from wondering what the hell that was all about?

#daryl fanfiction #daryldixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #twd #romance #angst #teen romance #young norman reedus #young daryl dixon #daryldixon fanfic #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon & reader #daryl imagine

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magic-fluffie-boyes · 4 years ago

Note

i’m in a mood rn. can i have the undateables (-luke ofc hes baby) dating a guy? (maybe trans if u can!)

The Undatables and their Trans male MC

I’m not sure if you wanted them to be transitioning or not, but I plan on putting them in the process of transitioning. So warnings for everything below!

TW: Implied references to gender/body dysphoria if you squint really hard, vague mentions of people being awful to a trans male reader

Diavolo

Gender doesn’t matter for the prince, literally why would it? He just finds all humans fascinating no matter their gender or sexual orientation. He loves him for him, not what’s underneath his clothes.

When MC tells Diavolo he’s trans the demon lord’s curiosity is peaked. He doesn’t exactly understand this part of human psychology and he wants to.

Asks a million questions about it, because this big scary puppy just wants to learn and make sure his exchange student is happy and safe.

100% accepts him and his gender identity and will help him with his transition if he wants it -- be that helping pay for surgeries and treatments (we all know he can afford it) or just simply finding safer ways for binding or appearing more masculine.

Will absolutely game end any demons that harass him or makes him feel like his identity isn’t valid. Like, sir isn’t going to have that.

Outside of that, Diavolo doesn’t treat him any differently than he would anyone else. He’s still his big goofy oblivious kissable self.

Everyone needs their own personal Diavolo to validate them honestly.

Barbatos

Is educated on this shit, the smart boy knows all the basics about transitioning and being transgender. He’s actually very proud of all those humans who have the strength to go through that, so it’s needless to say this sort of thing doesn’t bother him.

He wasn’t expecting MC to be transgender himself, but it wasn’t unwelcome, in fact, it opened the devildom up to be even more progressive than before and helps his Lord’s mission even further.

He is the go-to guy if there is anything MC needs to talk about, be it related to his transition, or just any random topic he feels like talking about. He’ll listen to any of his problems, and be happy to try and help soothe his worries if he needs it.

Speaking of, this man can give a killer massage, and if Barbatos sees that he needs something to help him calm down he’ll happily offer to grab MC some calming tea and give him a nice massage while he just thinks.

Barb makes him feel valid about himself all the time without even saying much, calling him handsome and strong. Just subtle little things that reassure him that his thoughts and everything matter.

If someone is bothering him Barb remains calm with that trademark smile on his face as he corrects them once before they apologize and quit.

Just is always, always there for him when he needs it and treats him as no higher or lesser than himself because of their gender identity. They are equals and that is that.

Simeon

People expect him to be ignorant about the topic and be against the transition, but that isn’t true. Simeon is an angel, sure, but he knows that it’s not right to shame someone for something they can’t control.

Much like Diavolo, he doesn’t know too much on the topic, but he’s more than willing to learn and ask questions even if he could never understand what makes someone realize they are trans.

He’s always there for MC to listen to his problems and learn what troubles him so he can help support and understand him even more. Reassures him that what he feels isn’t wrong if there is even a semblance of doubt or self-hatred and that if this is what he feels he was meant to be, it is meant to be.

Does a lot of independent research to better understand the things that trans people may be feeling and why they transition in the first place and is surprised at how simple it is.

He uses this to help deepen his relationship with MC and avoid unnecessary conflict that could come from being ignorant of these things.

If someone bothers him Simeon takes the route of trying to calmly educate them on why MC identifies in the way he does. If that doesn’t work he just calmly removes himself and MC from the situation and calms him down if need be.

All around a very good angel boyfriend, and while he might not be perfect with somethings all the time, he has the heart and spirit to improve and change.

Solomon

Less educated than Barbatos, but more than Dia and Simeon, and is generally way more tolerant than the others around him because he’s more used to seeing this in the media.

Since he’s the only one who can fully understand the more human emotions he’s going through Solomon is pretty good at understanding how hard it is to talk about it -- even if he isn’t the most empathetic person around.

Will listen to his issues and present more… human(?) solutions to most of them… though he has offered to cast a spell or two if he wanted him to.

Probably has already befriended or knows a few transgender people and has experiences with them. He’s learned not to treat MC any different than anyone else because at the end of the day he’s just a person too and his gender identity doesn’t really matter to our favorite sorcerer.

If he really needs help with understanding something, but he doesn’t want to press anything that might hurt MC he’ll ask Asmo for some advice. Which, I need to say, Asmo and Solomon are a package deal -- so he gets double the love and support with Asmo :)

Will turn bigots into toads, fucking test him, he’ll do it. Solomon will not tolerate anyone hurting his boyfriend!!! Even if he tells him no turning people into toads, he’s still going to send Asmo after their ass after everything is all said and done.

He’s just chill about it like he is with pretty much everything else, if not a little teasing sometimes.

A/N: SO! I’ve never written for a transgender reader, so I really hope I did okay. I mostly focused on their reactions to a trans male reader, and how they treat them, so I hope this is good? Once again I am very new to this and need constructive criticism! I also need to say the reason this took so long was because I was reading/watching a lot of things about Transitioning/being Transgender. And of course, I have to give props to my friend @queennerd-love who helped me read through and make sure this was not offensive (as much as two cis girls could do at least...) I hope you enjoyed it!

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thebirbiest · 5 years ago

Note

What did ozpin-defense-squad do?

I would think one look at their blog would be enough to ascertain my reason for making that post? But just in case you’ve been sleeping under a rock, don’t recognize the name, or can’t see her malicious personality beneath the fake kindness she continues to use only for those that kiss her ass– let’s dive in.

Recently, an anon asked that they tag their self-insert ship posts. They expressed that such posts made them uncomfortable, and as someone who has their own triggers and who has also had those same concerns laughed at or mistreated because people don’t take the time to understand, I can say with all sincerity that ODS handled the situation poorly. More than poorly, really. How she still has followers is beyond me.

Instead of simply asking where these posts were, what exactly was concerning the anon, she took the question asked as an open, hostile attack despite it being a simple question, and lashed out on the anon. For like…no reason. She made a post prior to this anon about people tagging their ships because it made her uncomfortable, but couldn’t extend this same courtesy to her own anon simply because she “thought that it was passive aggressive.”

As it turned out, said anon was new and was hoping to blacklist posts that made them uncomfortable.

As someone who suffers daily from anxiety and depression and my own triggers, I can tell you right now, the vicious and angry response given to that anon and then repeated toward them later on when an “explanation” came through, is not how you treat people. That would have set me off in more ways than I can express, and it legit would’ve sent me into an anxiety/panic attack, had I been the one asking the question.

THIS is not how you treat someone; regardless of how sensitive you are, regardless of how you “perceived” the question. No one owes you an explanation of any kind when addressing their own discomforts and triggers. As a decent human being, you are to simply acknowledge these concerns and respect them. It’s not hard. At all.

I am not in support of guilt-tripping by any means, but what else was the anon supposed to think when she blatantly and un-apologetically made that anon feel unwelcome?

She’s also known to make other Ozpin shippers feel uncomfortable simply because they’re enjoying their own ship, and not feeding her self-insert delusion that Ozpin belongs to her and only her. She’s gone so far as to attack these shippers, specifically those involving LGBT ships, and has done so on many occasions with several close friends of mine.

She also had some sort of discourse about stickers(??) Which I know very little about, aside from the fact that she willingly encouraged her “fans” to go after and attack the anon that had some concern about them.

She does not take constructive criticism (clearly), she has no patience for anyone else’s emotional/mental concerns (aside from her own), and she is just not someone I want to be around or see on my dash. Her open hostility and negligence in regards to anyone outside of those that support her no matter what she does is, honestly, a little scary. She sets off most of my triggers at just the mention of her URL and after what I’ve seen today, I’m done staying quiet. She reminds me very much of my ex-girlfriend with her delusions and insistence that it’s ‘her way or everyone else can perish,’ and I will not stand for someone treating others so poorly.

So yeah.

I don’t want anyone @’ing me in the comments. You’ll receive an insta-block and your comments will not be heard. If you can skim through her blog and not see that her behavior is concerning, that it’s not how we treat those within fandom, that it’s not right in any way, shape, or form - then leave.

Everyone deserves to have their concerns heard. Everyone deserves the right to be treated with respect when their mental health is a concern. If you can’t do that for people, then block them or throw the ask away. It’s that simple.

I have very little patience for people like ODS, who sets off people’s triggers with little to no concern because she doesn’t try to concern herself with anyone but herself, and her behavior is toxic in ways that I am not comfortable being around - even among my followers.

Make your own assessments. Follow who you choose and agree/disagree wherever you please, but unfollow me now if you’re going to support someone like that.

#I'm tired of people treating other people like this #and I'm tired of the need to support people like this #it's not that hard to be a good person #you just have to take the stick out of your ass #and see a little further than your own world #Everything in regards to this topic will not be addressed #I'm asking you all now to simply unfollow and/or block #I will do the same accordingly #Thank you #Anonymous

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howtodrawyourdragon · 5 years ago

Text

Changing

Summary: Hiccup has changed throughout the years since meeting Toothless, but nobody but the dragons really know how much. The changes are physical too. Post-RttE.

Rating: General

Words: 1 261

Author’s Notes: I don't know how vague the summary is, but the tags kinda clears up the mystery?

Anyway, enjoy this one-shot!

Constructive criticism is highly appreciated!

"Hiccup, for the sake of Odin's beard, get up."

The exasperated voice of his father and a rough hand shaking his shoulder is what woke Hiccup up late that morning. It was almost in the afternoon.

Stoick stood by his son's bedside as Hiccup's head shot up from his pillow, still neck-deep within the covers. His eyes were firmly closed.

"What?" He asked sluggishly, barely able to open them and look up to his father. His hair was more of a mess than usual.

"It's late, son. You should've been up hours ago. Gobber's been waiting for you in the forge and Toothless already went and got breakfast for himself because you were taking so long. Now get up." Stoick replied curtly and pulled the blankets away before turning and leaving Hiccup with the unwelcome cold that usually hung around all day on Berk.

Hiccup released a sigh and dropped his head back down again, arms stubbornly taking hold of his pillow and curling up with the chill that now replaced his warmth.

"And it's time you went to bed earlier!" He heard his father call out to him as he descended the stairs with heavy footsteps befitting a mighty Chief.

"Hmm." Was Hiccup's simple response. No way Stoick heard him, but the man wasn't pressing for an answer it seemed. The front door closed, signaling that he'd left the house.

Finally managing to open his eyes after a little while longer, Hiccup noticed that the stone slab was indeed empty. Toothless had already left, just as his father had told him.

Sitting up against his will, he felt like he could do with a few more hours in bed, Hiccup couldn't help but groan and rub his neck due to the discomfort it brought him. At the same time he brought a hand up to shield himself from the sunshine as it came in through the window in the roof. The sun was already high in the sky, telling Hiccup how late it already was.

He was sore. He was so sore. In his neck, his back, his shoulders, his limbs... There wasn't a muscle in his body that didn't feel stiff and like he'd spend all of yesterday running from a stampede of dragons.

And his skin felt so itchy in certain spots too. It was maddening. On his back and neck especially.

He wondered absentmindedly whether he was getting sick or not. This wasn't the first late morning he woke up feeling this was, not the first morning he found that he was still tired either. He did go to sleep on time, or more so than he usually did when he and Toothless had their nightly flights, and yet, he felt so fatigued as of late.

And he felt kinda hot too. A little feverish.

Swinging his legs over the edge of his bed, he rubbed into his eyes and briefly combed with his fingers through his hair before retrieving his prosthetic. The haze over his mind was slowly dissipating. As it did, Hiccup noticed something small and black on his pillow from the corners of his eyes.

Looking over, brows furrowing, he noticed there were several of them. Tiny little specks scattered on his pillow and the furs he slept on.

Curiously picking one up, Hiccup found that the drop-like shape was familiar. Dragon scales. Toothless' scales. Except not nearly as big.

The haze over his mind cleared, but even so, Hiccup couldn't quite figure out where these could be coming from. Toothless sometimes dared to sneak into his bed at night, but he would've known. Unless his exhaustion was so bad he didn't even notice anymore.

Subconsciously, he rubbed over his neck again and wondered.

He wondered if he was imagining things.

Or if the back of his neck, covered by his hair, truly felt different than it did the day before.

A crooning drew his attention before he could think too much about the matter, followed by the snout of a Night Fury ruffling through his hair distractingly. Turning, Hiccup smiled when Toothless greeted him with a puff of warm fish breath.

"Good morning to you too, Bud." Hiccup coughed, attempting to escape the foul scent.

Another puff.

"Or afternoon."

While his Rider scratched his chin, Toothless decided to settle happily on Hiccup's bed. The piece of furniture creaked underneath his weight.

"And I'm also sorry it took me so long to get up, Bud. Don't know what's happening to me lately." Hiccup apologized and Toothless replied something that sounded almost suspiciously close to "excuses, excuses" before dropping his heavy head on the other's lap.

As a chuckle left him, Hiccup let his hand run over the head, neck and back of the Night Fury. Mind drifting back to the scales he found, he took one of them to compare with Toothless' and saw that there was a considerable difference in size between his black scales and the ones he'd mysteriously recovered from his bed.

Vaguely, a memory from his time on the Edge ran its course inside his head. The memory of a certain male Thorston who believed he was about to turn into a half-man/half-dragon after being bitten.

Hiccup felt like an idiot for even thinking about it. The last time he'd gotten a bite was from Sharpshot when he'd become a little too playful months ago. And no dragon bites had the power too... Maybe he really was getting a fever. His cheeks felt warm.

"Say, Bud..." Hiccup started and Toothless replied. He gave an eloquent "yeah?" so to speak.

"If something was going on. With me. You'd know and you'd tell me, right?" He asked and stroked the top of his Night Fury's head.

Toothless looked up to his Rider and grumbled. Hiccup could only make a disgruntled "yes, of course" out of that. As if the dragon was insulted by the mere notion that he wouldn't tell his Rider about something this important.

Well, he'd tell him in due time at least. When he was ready.

Hiccup huffed, smiling down at Toothless, who momentarily closed his eyes to enjoy his Viking's affections.

"Anyway, dad's right. I should probably get up." Hiccup decided and grabbed his prosthetic again, which had been left on the bed next to him after he made his strange discovery.

As Toothless pulled his head back, only briefly mourning the loss of the scratches and caresses, Hiccup strapped his metal leg on and then searched for the boot that was without a doubt haphazardly thrown away the night before.

"I should probably check up on Gobber and apologize to him too."

A disapproving grumble.

"Okay, first lunch and then I'll check up on and apologize to Gobber."

Toothless was much more satisfied with this plan. And Hiccup's stomach agreed, growling in protest.

Once the boot was found and subsequently put on, Hiccup left his room with Toothless following closely behind. While descending the stairs, dressed in only one layer of tunic as he felt simply too hot for a double one, Hiccup couldn't help but scratch at the back of his neck again and sigh in agitation. Maybe he should visit Gothi later that day. Just to be sure.

Risking his health by not going was one thing, but to live with this horrendously itchy feeling?

Toothless watched him silently and noticed the frail beginnings of tiny black specks under his hair.

He should tell him and soon. What was happening to him was inevitable. The sooner he knew, the sooner he could prepare himself.

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cupofcowboys · 5 years ago

Note

Hi, I'm so sorry but I'm about to dump a million asks on you. I really wanted to reply to that post about writing for Javier but my anxiety is destroying me. I don't mind if you wanna post these in a reply on there instead, or just keep them to yourself. It just means a lot if someone listens. Okay here i go:

Please don't take this as me being mad at you, I just wanted to share a perspective that was missed in that writing for Javier post. Your advice was good, but it was kinda only written for people who don't write about Javier because they don't want to be called racist. I don't write for Javier because there are still "bad apples" in the fandom. If I block them they can still see my posts on other people’s blogs and just the idea of them reading my writing makes me so upset I feel sick because I can’t control the lense they view my writing with.

And I’m really not trying to be shady but I’ve seen you and some other people in the replies for that post be kinda supportive of some of those “bad apples”. I don’t judge you for it, I follow you and I think you’re great. Maybe you just don’t know they’re bad apples, either because tumblr moves fast and it’s easy to miss things or maybe you just genuinely don’t understand why what they do is wrong.

But if you see people of colour, especially Latinx people, upset about Javier content they’re probably offended for a good reason. They’re also being made feel unwelcome in their safe space. And the fandom might be really important to them considering a lot of other media is literally talking shit about them constantly. It may seem like they’re upset about something “small” to you, but they’ve learned to notice the “small” things because they’re often the tip of a racist iceberg.

In some contexts being able to notice that stuff can literally be life saving, it pays to be hyper vigilant. But if they’re reaching out asking you to make changes instead of avoiding you, it’s because they think you can do better. And usually they’re not asking for much, just for people to be more aware when they’re writing for Javier. Like you said, just try to write for his character traits and not because of stereotypes you might have absorbed.

It’s a challenge though because Javier’s character was founded on stereotypes, the entire original game was. It pays to put a bit more effort in, just like rockstar did the second time around. He IS passionate but I don’t think they ever used the word passionate to describe him in rdr2 (maybe I’m wrong) I kinda wish writers would avoid it too when they write for Javier.

Even when it’s a perfectly fine use of the word, I just automatically slam the breaks when I see “passionate” used to describe latinx people. I can still get back into reading and enjoy the fic, but I’d enjoy it even more if I didn’t have the abrupt pauses. And it’s a pretty small change to make that can make a huge difference and also be a good creative exercise.

The other thing I wish writers would avoid is peppering “Mexican” all over the place. Like don’t erase his race where it’s relevant, but when someone throws in a random “the Mexican sat down” or whatever it almost always comes across as fetishising. There are so many adjectives in the world, ask yourself why you automatically go to that one. Or just use his name a lot, it might be “annoying” for some readers but it’s not gonna legitimately hurt someone like coming across as fetishising might.

-♥-

I just want to say thank you so much for reaching out to me about this. I deeply appreciate your perspective and insights, especially on enlightening me to things I hadn’t thought about. I want to give you the prior understanding that I am not American/Mexican, I have never been to America/Mexico and I’m not educated on American relations/media/perspectives relating to Latinx people. At least, not in the way that people who live and experience that are. Please understand that when I express my thoughts, feelings and opinions. I only have my perspective as a British woman.

For this reason, I am more than happy to listen to constructive criticism and insights from Latinx people, especially if what I’m doing directly harms them or makes them feel unsafe. Fandom is a safe space, especially my blog. I will never be offended or defensive about it so long as I’m treated with mutual respect. I’m in a position only to learn and better myself as much as possible. That’s why I’m here.

As for “bad apples” in the fandom, I admit that I don’t know who they are. If I do something supportive of them, please don’t be afraid to let me know! I will listen to you. I try my best to be vigilant and thoughtful, but I’m not as educated as I should be. I’m aware of that. Any enlightenment is appreciated by me. I’ll just state that I’m not, and never will be, interested in drama or attacking anyone.

I agree that Javier’s character was based on stereotypes. I actually omitted that point from my original reblog post because I didn’t want to draw too much attention to it. He’s still got a lot of stereotypes attached to him in RDR2. But I don’t like to view him through the “lens” of a stereotype, I try to expand on his character as much as possible to counteract that and I think that’s what writers should do. We don’t have to lean into the stereotypes we’re given. But he is the character they wrote, and we can only do so much while staying “true” to him.

The “mexican” descriptor is a thing I’ve also learnt to avoid (by digesting posts I’ve seen about that!) and think it should be applied to every writer. It’s ok only in contexts where it matters. I also hate the use of slurs in fics, especially when they aren’t given the weight they actually carry. Always puts me off. It’s rare, but I have seen it and I hate it. I will also omit the use of the word “passionate” in my fics/conversations about Javier, thank you for telling me about that!

I have no issue with people expressing their thoughts/feelings/opinions about how people write/interact regarding Javier. In fact, I wholeheartedly encourage and support it! I will always reblog posts like that. What I do have an issue with, is how those posts are worded. I’m never going to support, like or reblog a post that is aggressive, demeaning or offensive about any topic. Even if it’s coming from a good intention.

As for your reluctance to write Javier because of “bad apples” seeing it through the wrong lens, you are never going to be able to control who sees your posts. I see posts from people on my dash who I don’t like and who make me unhappy any time I see them - even though they are blocked. Tumblr has an awful blocking system. I completely understand why you feel that way and wouldn’t want to do it.

But I think you should do it for the “good apples”. You should do it for you. There is no way to stop people interpreting what you create differently from your intentions. That’s just one of the laws of creating. Don’t let that hold you back. If anything, set the example that you want to see. Be the “good apple” and to counteract the rot the “bad apples” bring. You have that power and you should actively embrace it.

Thank you again for speaking to me about this, I hope my response was okay. If you like, I can post your asks as a separate post on their own. Please just let me know ♥

#anon #ask #javier escuella #long post #I care a lot about this #It's extremely important to me #Please never be afraid to tell me if I make a mistake #I value your happiness and opinions

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