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evertomorrowart · 11 months ago

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Best of YouTube 2023

Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.

What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!

But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.

For those who don't know, further is an explanation.

At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.

Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.

TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘

I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.

As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.

Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.

At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."

Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--

I. L o a t h e. Football.

But.

F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.

Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.

CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.

Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.

Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."

Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.

Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."

"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?

I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.

The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".

Watch. The damn. Video.

In fact, watch all of them!

Thanks for reading this if you did.

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islandofsages · 9 months ago

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HEYY!! I love your writing from what i've read and i was wondering if i could ask for a gn reader (yuu) teaching the housewardens about like classic fandom lore- like imagine them turning into matpat to explain fnaf and undertale!! 😭😭 feel free to not do this and have a good day!! Thanks :D

characters: housewardens x gn!yuu

tags: platonic, fluff, crack kinda, imagines format

warnings: swearing

author's notes: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG also all the fandoms mentioned here are all fandoms ive been in at some point :D fun times mhm

Riddle Rosehearts

He knows you’re very passionate about fandom culture but you never really had the chance to infodump about it to him

Until one day, you drop by Heartslabyul for a leisurely visit, when you see a not-so-clearly distressed Riddle sitting in the lounge

Not-so-clearly meaning he’s holding a teacup in his hand yet not drinking it, eyes closed as if he’s holding in all his emotions

You grow worried at this sight and slide next to him on the couch where he is seated, hoping you can help alleviate some of that stress

He sees you and he allows himself a sigh, then musters up a smile for you. He greets you and you cut straight to the point - can you help him with anything?

He releases a second sigh and shakes his head, telling you he only needs some sort of distraction. He just had a long day and needs to take his mind off things

You take a second to think of things that you can distract him with – that’s when a lightbulb goes off in your head. This is a prime opportunity for you

“Okay, I’m guessing you haven’t heard of Five Nights at Freddy’s since it’s a franchise from my world and all but the lore is crazy. So it starts like this…”

He wasn’t expecting to be paying much attention to the contents of what you’re saying but sooner or later, he ends up leaning towards you with his hand cupping his chin, mouth slightly agape at the story you’re telling

This inspires you to dump even more information about the media somehow at the rate that you’re going

By the end of it, he’s completely forgotten what he was so worried about. His head is full of creepy pizzerias for kids and haunted animatronics

He ends up having some trouble sleeping that night though. He’ll get you for that later.

Leona Kingscholar

He won’t lie, your interest in fandoms is too reminiscent of Idia for him – he doesn’t admit this to you obviously, since he hasn’t had the chance to

But on one particularly boring day, you decide to skip class with him and he lets you tag along for the hell of it

In the span of three seconds, he’s already off in dreamland. Sometimes you wish you had such a skill

Since you have nothing better to do and he’s way too deep in his sleep to even care anyway, you start rambling to yourself and a slumbering Leona

“Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about Undertale lately so I need to dump it all somewhere. So basically you play as this kid…”

Little do you know halfway through his nap, he wakes up from how much you’re talking. At first, he’s annoyed by your yapping but then he grows interest in what you’re saying

He’s almost tempted to try that game for himself and almost disappointed that it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland. Emphasis on almost.

When you’re done rambling, that’s when he stretches his arms over his head and yawn, commenting how noisy you were

You shrug it off. You're used to him complaining about you yapping instead of napping alongside him

…But then he asks you to tell him more about Undertale, if there's any more information you’re keeping from him out of the kindness of your heart

You smile smugly at this and his expression seems to say “don't make me regret asking” but oh, you definitely will make him regret even being friends with you in the first place

Needless to say, regrets were not the only thing he held at the end of that day.

Azul Ashengrotto

Similar to Leona, your fixation on fandom culture reminds him too much of Idia. not that that’s necessarily a bad thing - it’s more of an observation

And he gets more than an observation when you get the chance to show him what you’re made of: useless fandom culture and gaming knowledge

Speaking of Idia, he goes to you as a last resort to ask you to help him understand whatever the hell Idia’s talking about

You don’t know too much about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture just yet but when Azul explains the premise of a certain game and its fandom, it gives you an idea

“Sounds pretty similar to Yandere Simulator. Ooh, that one has a lot of history. Let me tell you about it…”

Unfortunately for him, he ended up unlocking your geekiness instead of having you address the things he was confused with

But at least your story makes it a bit easier to understand? He’s yet to decide that really but at least it sounds like you’re taking his lack of slang knowledge into consideration

Your infodump really gripped his attention though - it’s interesting to know another side of human culture, even if it’s not the humans of Twisted Wonderland

He would nod understandingly (or at least, politely) and thank you and your geekiness

He relays your story to Idia and finds it intriguing how similar fandom culture is in both Twisted Wonderland and your world

He would invite you to Board Game Club meetings so that you can rave and find out more about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture with Idia

He’d realize that was a big mistake and he may or may not have created the nerdiest pair in the world - but you guys are his nerdiest pair in the world.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s very curious about fandom culture - he doesn’t know too much about it nor anyone who knows a lot about it so almost all the fandom information in his head are from you

He really wants to know more!!! So of course that warrants a hangout session fabricated as a study session to get Jamil’s stamp of approval

So there you are in his room, books laid out in front of the two of you but most importantly, a laptop

You two watch about a dozen videos on Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture and as you absorb all the very-much-useful information, you sneak in tidbits from the culture of your world

“This one in particular is reminiscent of Danganronpa. Man, that one was a wild ride…”

It’s exciting to be able to talk about it with someone you trust wholeheartedly, especially Kalim, whom you know wouldn’t be so judging

He only nods in understanding at every point you made, his eyes sparkling with all the curiosity in his body

You were on your thirteenth video when you two are interrupted by a rap on the door and an unfortunately-familiar voice

So obviously you and your bestie hurriedly rush to close all the tabs on your laptop and open up something more academically-inclined

Which is obviously a…dictionary site

Jamil blinks twice at this, says nothing (but probably noting how it makes sense for you guys since you two are bumbling idiots) and walks away

If there’s any dictionary being read that day, it’d be a dictionary of fandom terminology, that’s for sure.

Vil Schoenheit

He doesn’t know too much about it - and doesn’t bother to learn much about it since he has better things to do - but since it’s you, he tries his best to be a good listener

The two of you sit down in the courtyard one day, the chirping of birds and rustling of leaves music to your ears; beauty truly is everywhere around you when you’re next to him

He’s talking about something. You’re not sure what because you’re entranced by the way his hair hangs above his eyes so elegantly. He notices this and calls you out for it

You shrug and excuse how you can’t help it - he’s like a dating simulator love interest in the real. He asks you what you mean by this. Now’s your chance to shine!

“Hmm, you know, something like Mystic Messenger? Hehe, let me tell you a bit about it…”

Unluckily for him, your “a bit” turns out to be a four-hour long ramble about the aforementioned dating simulator a little too reminiscent of Rook for his liking too

Despite his reservations, he really did enjoy hearing you talk so passionately about your interest; it’s a bonus that the topic itself is interesting

He tells you he wouldn’t mind trying out the game or at least finding out more about it though unfortunately it’s not available in Twisted Wonderland

You share his shame - until he says he’ll pitch the concept of the game to some authorities he know and perhaps make it a reality

Sorry, he’s going to what now?

You’re a little shaken. Sometimes you forget he’s a world-class model, despite his looks and mannerisms. You save your nerves for if a Twisted Wonderland version of Mystic Messenger actually ends up happening

He thanks you for enlightening him about fandom and video gaming culture. You use this as a cue to add another four hours of ranting about V’s route in the game.

Idia Shroud

You’re another victim for him to taint… or so he thought. You’re more of an ally than a victim at this point, considering how nerdy you are

He’d dump fandom lore on you and you’d reciprocate it right back. He’s genuinely so impressed with your knowledge, even if they differ by some degree due to being from different worlds

He gets more impressed when you pull up with knowledge about Twisted Wonderland’s fandom culture like damn, you really brushed up on your talking points already

Friendly rivalry aside, he really does enjoy talking about fandom culture with you and hearing about the things from your world - every story you tell adds a little color into his world

One day, the two of you are leaning on each other, on your phones because of course you are, even if you two are friends, talking still isn’t Idia’s strong suit

That’s when you blurt it out–

“Hey, wanna hear about this game called Persona? It’s a turn-based RPG and…”

Regardless of his response to your question, you ended up babbling away either way. It’s how conversations start between the two of you

You’re speaking so fast, he would have mistaken you for a rapper - or a doppelganger of himself even

Consider him entertained - he finds himself smiling by the end of your yapping and intrigued by your story

He then obviously starts to relate it to something from Twisted Wonderland, passing the listener baton to you

You don’t mind – you can stay there for hours and hours, just going back and forth with your fellow nerdy-ass friend.

Malleus Draconia

This man barely knows how to use a smartphone so you had to be a little patient with him when guiding him through the fandom culture trenches

He’s happy that you trust and cherish him enough to talk about your interests with no reservations or shame – and the feeling is mutual

On a certain weekend, the two of you are hanging out as usual. Chatting as friends would do

You don’t know why but the conversation reminded you of a certain fandom

“It’s kinda like Genshin’s community, I guess. They’re a riot, let me tell you that.”

Oh? What’s a Genshin and why is its community a riot?

You’re glad he asked – because you’ve prepared a 100-slide presentation on the history of the game and its fans

He asks you why and how did you find the time to make that. You tell him to shut up and that it doesn’t matter, he just needs to listen to you

You start and it feels like you’ll never stop – there’s just so much to say and Malleus has so much time in the world

Seeing his reactions to certain events makes you crack up and at times, you’d laugh at his shocked expressions (or sigh exhaustively, depending on the event you’re explaining)

When you finally stop, he gives you a one-man standing ovation. You blush a little at the attention and unexpected reaction but you appreciate his sentiment nonetheless. He tells you that your presentation has been very informative for him

You’re relieved to have been able to get that off your chest… and Malleus is more than ecstatic to relay the information to everyone he’s ever known. You obviously pretend that you had no involvement in his sudden investment of a game from another world.

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grandline-fics · 9 months ago

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Hi! Hope I’m no bother but I fell upon your blog and I couldn’t help but love it. I wondered if I could have a hcs, drables, one shot, any format who arrange you, with Shanks and Mihawk (Sorry if you aren’t comfortable with those characters, pick up other if you prefer) who meet their first love after years and years of no see? I heard a lot that you will forever love your first love, so I wondered how they would reacted to meet them/her once adults and mature. They stay with their first genuine love quite a long time, 5-7 years, and broke up for no real valid reasons, just because they were young and else, they met their first love maybe at 16-17 yo. Sorry my English is awful :,)

DESCRIPTION: You’re their first love and reunite after so many years

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Mihawk, Shanks

WORDS: 2,388

A/N: Sorry I've gotten so behind on these, it's been a rough few weeks but I'll hopefully be back on track soon. Thank you for this request. I really hope you like it!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

MIHAWK

Love wasn’t a word Mihawk considered to be heavily used in his vocabulary. Some would call him heartless and cruel but he was a realist. If anything he thought the world overused it to the point of it losing it’s depth and importance which was why he tended to rarely let it fall from his lips. Yes he had ‘lovers’ from time to time but were they ever considered someone he loved? No. None of them even came close to that. How could they when the one that had claimed his heart, the one that taught him the true meaning of the word love, was you.

Although it had been so many years, the memories he had with you were still so clear and sharp that they could have rivalled any blade. Your paths had crossed at the very beginning of his travels across the world in the hopes of training and claiming the title of the world’s greatest swordsman as his own. He had been pointed to your home by the locals after asking who the best sword fighter was, eager to add another victory to his steadily growing list. However when he appeared at your home he was a little thrown to find you tending to a small plot of farmland. Mihawk knew you were the only one living here as the locals had told him that much, so there was no confusing you were the one he was looking for. He wasn’t expecting someone who looked as young as him to be his supposed opponent. Still he was proof that age had no bearing on talent. So he challenged you.

Quickly he was thrown once more when you lifted your head from your work to fix him with a look he’d never forgotten. Your eyes were bright and silently assessing and whatever it was you saw in him made your lips quirk into an amused smirk that in his youth had made Mihawk skin prickle with an unfamiliar warmth. He could only watch as you rose with the basket of freshly pulled vegetables in your arms and firmly refused his challenge and walked towards your house. He’d never been refused before and demanded to know why, following you inside. “I don’t need to give you a reason.” Had been your cool reply before you looked over your shoulder at him. “I just don’t want to.”

“I’m not leaving until you fight me.” Mihawk had boldly declared, the intense sincerity of his words causing you to laugh. At the sound, he had originally bristled but it wouldn’t be long before he found that it was his among his favourite things in the world. True to his word, Mihawk had stayed on the island far longer than he had intended. Every day he came to your home and challenged you. Every day you refused and watched him storm away. Eventually though after your refusal you would invite him to stay; sometimes to share something to eat, or even to go on a walk, or to help you with your chores. At first he hadn’t understood why he so readily spent the time with you but then he did. He wanted to be with you more than he wanted to fight you. When he realised that, his time with you each day grew more and more until he didn’t go and stopped challenging you completely.

You loved him completely and never wanted to be apart from him, because even though you were both young you knew what you felt was real and unshakable. However you knew that it wasn’t right. He couldn’t remain on a tiny island when his ambition lay out in the large and unseen world. As much as it pained you to do so, you insisted it was time to stop things. Mihawk had to go and become the greatest swordsman and you had to stay on the island because as it stood, you were the only one that could protect the others living there. Your reputation kept many away but as Mihawk had proved, some would come looking for a fight or to cause harm to the innocent. Begrudgingly Mihawk saw the sense in your words and he left but you were never forgotten.

Now here he stood in some nowhere town on some random island, watching you talk to an elderly woman tending to a flower stand in the middle of the market square. It was you, he knew it was you. Time had aged you like the finest of wines, your beauty matured for all to see. Then you laughed and it proved what he’d already known. After all this time without you and even though any free moment he had he thought of you, to see you now and know that you were just a few feet away from his touch he couldn’t help but let his mind wonder about you beyond his fondest memories. What if you’d married? What if you didn’t remember him? What if you didn’t want to see him?

When you said goodbye to the woman and started to walk away, Mihawk found that his previous worries disappeared instantly, not wanting to risk losing this chance. Immediately he set off through the crowd in the direction you went in. Thankfully you hadn’t gotten too far and when he was close, his hand lightly touched your shoulder and took a step back when you turned suddenly to face him.

Your expression flickered from confusion to shock and then joy at the unexpected sight of your first love standing in front of you. It gave Mihawk a feeling of relief to see the smile light your face before your expression became playful. “Well? Aren’t you going to ask me?” Mihawk blinked in confusion but quickly he realised you meant a challenge and let out a small breath of amusement. Slowly he shook his head.

“No, I just don’t want to.” He answered simply, smirking when you finally stepped closer and slid your hand around his arm.

“In that case, I’m not leaving you until you do.” Mihawk chuckled and started walking down the street with you. Finally reunited with the only person he ever loved? There was no way he was going to let you go again.

SHANKS

When Shanks was young he never fully understood why Roger, Rayleigh and the other older members of the crew got so distracted and frankly stupid in his opinion when they were around ‘attractive’ people when they were visiting an island. It always went beyond just enjoying being off of the ship for a while and making friends. Curious one day as they sailed on a calm stretch of water, he turned the question to the vice-captain who laughed at the question. So Shanks pressed more. “It just doesn’t make sense. What’s so special about them that makes you all so goofy and red faced? The Marines would lower your bounty if they saw you like that, the Captain too.”

“Oh, you’ll understand when you’re older Shanks.” Rayleigh told him with another laugh and light clap on his shoulder. Still that answer wasn’t good enough for him and he stared at the older man. If he was old enough to ask the question, surely he’d be considered old enough now for an actual answer. Seeing that the issue wasn’t going to drop, Rayleigh relented just a little more and sighed. “Look Shanks, it’s a little hard to explain but it’s another way of enjoying life and our adventures. We don’t know how much time we have at sea before finding a new island so it’s best to enjoy all it has to offer. Company with attractive people who feel the same about you is another aspect of that.”

“Doesn’t it make you sad though? You never see them again. Don’t you miss them?”

“Not really. It’s not love and they know that.”

“Huh…” Shanks felt even more confused then. The older crew always had a sickly loved up expression during the encounters he’d witnessed before they disappeared with their new ‘friends’ for the evening. So if it wasn’t love what was it? More to the point a new question came out of his mouth. “So what does love feel like?”

“Love? What’s with the hard questions today, lad?” The vice-captain muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean it’s different for everyone. Sometimes it’s slow, other times it’s fast and comes out of nowhere. Still I suppose at the same time, love feels similar. It’s like lightning hitting you mind, body, and soul. It’s powerful. When you’re in love and know it, it’s like nothing else matters but them. It’s like their very presence can calm and excite you all at once.” Shanks slowly nodded. He could understand that in theory but one person being the only thing he could think about seemed dangerous to him. Satisfied with the answer given, he finally let Rayleigh continue with his day.

Looking back on that conversation now that he was older, Shanks would laugh at his own naivety as lust was certainly something he knew when he hit puberty just as Rayleigh had predicted and know it a lot. Love however, he only ever experienced once. Only a year after the conversation about love, the crew had docked on an island and headed straight for a restaurant in desperate need of plenty of good food and drink. Taking a seat, Shanks sat back and waited for the usual fun to start. Given the sudden increased size of customers, the owner called for you to help out the family business and take the orders.

You made your way to Shanks’ table and took the orders. Shanks was distractedly looking at the menu and had zoned out, only snapping out of it when your hand lightly pushed the rim of his straw hat up and leant in to smile at him. “Anything catching your eye or do you need more time?”

Shanks’ lips parted as he stared blankly at you, feeling like something shot right through his body. He was frozen in place and yet he felt warm, lost completely in your eyes. It felt like an age before his mind began to work again but really it had been only a few seconds. Quickly he managed to clear his throat and picked the first thing he saw when he forced his eyes back onto the menu. At the sound of you moving onto the next table, Shanks let out a breath only to wince when Buggy’s elbow caught him in the ribs. “Jeez, what came over you?” He’d asked, finding his friend and rival’s reaction to you funny but at the same time it was concerning to see Shanks so out of sorts. However the others at the table smirked, knowing the signs immediately.

It seemed like luck was truly on Shanks’ side when he was told they would be staying on the island for a few months to ensure they had enough supplies and preparation done before continuing on the next stretch of the journey. That meant he got to spend more time with you which was all he wanted. Luckier still, you seemed to be as equally taken with him. It had been just as Rayleigh had described love, you were all that mattered in his waking and sleeping moments and you brought him a sense of calm he’d never felt before but at the same time just being near you made his entire being feel restless and excited.

While he fell in love first you fell in love with him just as fast. Sadly it never got to last because in what felt like a blink, he and the rest of Roger’s crew were saying goodbye to those they’d gotten to know in their time on land. You’d done your best to keep a brave face and seem cheerful for Shanks’ sake. “You can always come back and visit some day, right?” You told him with a tight smile. “You’ll have plenty of stories of your adventures to tell me when we see each other again.”

“I promise each one will be more impressive than the last. The next time you see me, I’ll be Captain of my own ship.” Shanks promised with a proud puff of his chest that made you smile through the hurt of having to say goodbye.

True to his word, Shanks did become captain of his own ship and his great adventures took him over the world, some distracting him from the promise he had every intention of keeping. However as the years passed, he’d idly considered had time only made his feelings for you seem stronger than they had been through mere nostalgia. When he did finally manage to return to your island, he had been shocked to hear that you’d left many years ago. The disappointment he’d felt at the news told him that no, it wasn’t nostalgia; his feelings for you had been real.

Another handful of years passed and one evening in a tavern, Shanks and his crew talked and laughed as drink and food flowed freely. As Shanks drained the drink in his hand he faintly heard the sound of the chair beside him being taken. At first he thought it was Benn or Yasopp but when he glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw you there, his entire body locked. Choking on his drink, Shanks felt the painful burn in his throat as he forced his drink down instead of coughing it up. Wheezing he slammed his hand against his chest and could feel his heart beating rapidly and he knew it wasn’t because he nearly drowned on his drink. “Y-you!” He managed out, finally able to look at you, the same feeling he’d had in his youth crashing into him hard. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” You grinned, taking in the sight of how much the boy you’d fallen in love with had changed yet still felt the same. “So, got any stories for me, Captain?” Shanks laughed and turned properly in his seat to fix you with his full attention, his eyes set firmly on your face.

“I’ve got a lifetime of stories for you, just as promised.”

“Good, because I’m not going anywhere.”

#one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece scenario #one piece x you #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x you #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks one piece #red hair shanks #red haired shanks

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 4 months ago

Note

Hello uuhh.....can you make yandere twisted wonderland characters react to a female reader who hates/afraid love plss???

Prompt: He could hardly believe his ears when he heard you say that you didn't believe in love.

Pairing: Any Yan!TWST Boy of your choice x GN!Reader/ Yuu/ Prefect

Genre: Yandere

TW: I mean, it is like, yandere stuff so a natural tw for that. Other than that, if there's anything I've missed, please let me know ^^

AN: I've taken many creative liberties with this request, and I hope you don't mind. In my experience, most people who claim to hate live or be afraid of it typically do not believe in it or have been hurt too badly by a loved one to care for it. So I went with the reader/yuu/prefect not believing in love. I'm also much more comfortable with writing gn!readers than fem or even male, so I hope you don't mind me writing it in such a format. Hope you enjoy!

He could hardly believe his ears when he heard you say that you didn't believe in love.

The information was never actually meant for his ears. It was something you muttered in passing to one of your friends, shaking your head with a wry smile on your face. Those syllables were never meant to grace his ears, but they did, and now he found himself in a dilemma.

You, of all people in NRC. You, who helped not only him, but so many others with their problems, stopping overblots despite being magic less. Doing so much while you gained so little, empty promises made by those who were meant to help your vulnerable self in an unfamiliar world. Never asking for anything in return as you employed every trick, every last bit of strength to take care of those who had endeared themselves to you.

You were the very personification of love in his eyes.

You didn't believe in it?

He didn't know what hurt more; you not believing in the concept of true love, or the prospect of you never falling in love with him.

Love had never been his first priority. He was at NRC for his own reasons, educational and otherwise. So when you came and flipped his world upside down, with your unassuming smiles and freely given affection, with your gentle and helping nature, he was hooked. He was in love. And you didn't believe in it?

Would this mean that you didn't believe in him, in his devotion to you? Would you reject his care, his concerns, his love for you if he revealed it?

Perhaps someone hurt you before, he reasoned, pacing his room. Hurt you enough for you to lose any hope in the emotion, perhaps even despise it. His blood boiled in his veins at the thought that someone could hurt you so badly, so deeply that you would deny yourself love, and deny him the opportunity, no– right, to love you.

Love was freedom. Love was madness. Love had sunk its claws into him, sending his very soul into the depths of hell and the highs of heaven simultaneously. It was beautiful and ugly, kind and cruel, imperfect yet so heartbreakingly perfect.

It was you.

And yet you did not believe in it?

He should have let go. He should have been content with what little of you he could get, be content with sharing your attention with the many others who were your ardent admirers.

But he couldn't let it be. He couldn't let you go through life without experiencing what you did to him. What you made of him.

He would help you, just like you helped everyone you came across. Help you see just how liberating love could be, even as he shackled you to himself. Help you see how utterly devoted one could be, even if he went against your wishes. He would help you see just how high love could take you, even as he became the reason an angel like you fell from your place in heaven. He would sully his hands if the need arose to let you know how much, and how deeply you affected him.

He would help you feel and recognize love.

So that one day you could recognize him as a product of love.

Your love.

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader

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nanamiscocksleeve · 5 months ago

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A Sheath for a Sword

Warnings: MDNI, Crack fic, crude language, PIV sex, dirty talking, slight foursome A/N: This isn't an actual WIP, I just got a silly idea and wrote it out. Hardly took any time at all. Kind of a Victorian era goofy, crack fic. Not in y/n format, just felt right doing it in third person. Not proofread. Image credit Masson on Shutterstock

A young woman is crawling weakly through a field. The feeling of thirst claws at her body. It's been 3 months since she's had cock. 3 whole months and she's starving.

In a desperate bid to satisfy her hunger, she left her village, only to be overcome by her own weaknesses now on her knees, crying out in desperation.

"Cock...a bit of cock...anyone please...so thirsty..." Her labored movements drain her of the little energy she had, and she rests her head on the grass, panting, feeling her body succumbing to her basic needs. So this is how it ends, she thinks to herself. With a dry cunt and no prospects in sight.

She feels her thoughts becoming less cohesive, eyes becoming heavy and breathing shallow. She closes her eyes and waits for her ultimate end.

Unbeknownst to her, a merry order of knights were nearby and they had heard her pathetic cries of thirst. They march towards her aid, a trio of tall, strapping, gentlemen.

"The poor thing," murmurs Sir Geto The Long.

"Indeed," agrees Sir Gojo The Strong.

"I hope she'll recover," says Sir Nanami The Dauntless.

"Let's rouse her and see how she responds." Sir Geto rolls her onto her back and begins to pull up the various layers of skirts beneath her dress before he finally reaches the small strip of linen covering her pussy. He pulls it off and gasps in shock.

"I do say...look at it's state!"

Sir Gojo and Sir Nanami gather closer to see and they almost gasp in horror.

"I've never seen a cunt so dry!"

"Poor thing must be starving."

"She might have come from one of those old villages, the ones that took all the young men off to war!"

"She has traveled great lengths and gone without. We should put in our best efforts to revive her."

Sir Geto nods, gathering saliva onto his tongue. "I shall give it my best hawk tuah." With that, he brings as much as he can onto the dried pussy lips, spreading it onto her parched folds to offer relief.

The woman stirs, feeling something pleasantly lapping at her cunt, then shivers as her corset is undone and removed along with her chemise. Her eyes open a fraction, then she gasps as she sees two handsome men suckling on her titties, her poor, deprived titties, which would have been as dry as her cunt had it not been for the help of the salve the apothecary had made for her.

She clears her throat to get their attention. Sir Gojo releases her nipple, looking at her in apology.

"I'm sorry my lady, I hope you don't mind. You did look like you were in need of aid."

"I was. was looking for relief and must have passed out in the field." She gasps as she feels a tug on the womanly pearl between her legs. "Oh my! When I started on this journey, I was hoping to find at least one man to fill my venus cavern. I was never expecting 3! May I know your names, kind sirs?"

"Sir Gojo Satoru the strong." The white-haired knight introduces himself.

Nanami who had been licking her nipple this whole time lets go with a wet pop. "And I am Sir Nanami Kento The Dauntless."

"Dauntless?"

"He never backs down from anything. Never met a dame he hasn't satisfied, no matter how difficult she might be. Leaves the wildcats purring like house kittens by the time he's done!" Sir Gojo explains with a bark of laughter.

"And the chivalrous man between your legs restoring moisture to your cunt is Sir Geto The Long." Sir Gojo points the covered shape between her legs.

"Oh...long indeed, I can feel his tongue covering me all the way from the rosebud to the kitty cave!" she giggles and sighs as she feels her thirst ebbing away.

"That's not the only reason we call him that. You'll find out soon enough."

"Are you comfortable with us providing you with this assistance in a field my lady? We had no chance to ask since your condition was dire and you were unconscious. Would you prefer a room and a bed?" Sir Nanami asks as he tweaks her nipple with his calloused fingertips.

"Oh lord, no," she chuckles. "Outside is fine it's thrilling actually."

"Excellent! Well, we shall carry on. Please do not hesitate to cry out in pleasure when you have been thoroughly satisfied."

The woman lays back and lets them lick all her unused parts, feeling strength and vitality flowing back into her body with each flick and tickle. Sir Geto was doing an excellent job of bringing her withered petals back into health and she felt her moisture cavern growing even more wet in preparation for a meat sausage.

She cries out as her first orgasm in three months hits her, the noise echoing across the empty field, and Sir Geto emerges from underneath her clothes, grinning. She blushes as she sees his face, just as handsome as the other two that had been playing with her teats.

"I think I brought it back to life," sir Geto says confidently. "Would you like me to fill your glistening glove of love? Or would you prefer someone else?"

She considers, then admits. "I want Sir Gojo The Strong to break my abstinence."

"Yes my lady," Sir Gojo says with a grin. "Let me fuck thy fair maiden. And bring unto her a climax." With that he flips her back onto her hands and knees and begins to undo his armor. She makes small talk with the other 2 knights since removing armor single-handedly is no easy task. Sir Nanami and Sir Geto take turns lapping at her cave of wonders and pulling her breast pebbles to keep her moistened.

"In short, I thought I was going to die without ever experiencing cock again!" she was saying by the time Sir Gojo finished undressing.

"Quite fascinating my lady," he says, grabbing her hips and positioning them, before pushing his impressive flesh sword into her meat sandwich. She moans like a cat in heat, the exquisite feeling of cock filling her being. It was like being reborn, his erection bringing life back to her starved pussy like rain onto a drought-wrecked farm.

She groans and moans and giggles and sighs, enjoying the fucking of her pussy. "I would so enjoy a cock in my mouth as well sirs," she says looking at Sir Geto and Sir Nanami who begin to remove their own armor. Her eyes widen as she sees their forms.

"Now I understand why you're Sir Geto The Long," she says, measuring his dick with her fingers. "And Sir Nanami! Dauntless indeed! I would be too with that kind of sausage!" she looks at the veiny, glorious, monster cock on Sir Nanami's body.

"Well, feed me gentlemen."

Sir Nanami lets her taste him first, and she sucks him with enthusiasm, feeling her body grow stronger. Sir Geto plays with her nipples as he waits for one of her holes to get free. It takes quite an effort but she manages to get Sir Nanami to a climax, the salty cream from his cock sliding down her throat, an elixir to all her problems. At the same time, Sir Gojo also blesses her wet cunt with his cum, adding much-needed substances to her previously decrepit pussy.

Without wasting time, Sir Geto plunges into her as soon as Sir Gojo is finished. Cross-eyed and happier than she'd been in 3 months, the woman pants, tongue hanging out of her mouth in ecstasy.

"People talked about dry spells before. I thought they were lying. I thought it couldn't possibly be this bad," she explains between each gasp of air.

"Oh no, dry spells are not to be taken lightly. In fact, during the last one, they designated fuck bucks - young men with good vigor, to serve the women during the last war. But the crown's budget has become restricted with this war so they were unable to procure any fuckable men." Sir Nanami explains as he and Sir Gojo help each other with their armor, waiting for Sir Geto to finish.

Sir Geto growls like an animal, then plays with her clit, bringing her to her third orgasm and gives her another generous helping of seed to restore her parched lands.

She sighs in satisfaction. "Thank you Sirs. I really may have died here today."

"Tis no trouble at all my lady." They help her dress. "Would you like to come with us?"

"With you? Where?"

"We take our own quests and wander the lands keeping peace. Surely, you do not wish to go back to your cock deprived village?"

The woman considers, then shakes her head at the horrible prospect. "Indeed, no."

"Then ride with us. We will keep your cunt full, your belly fed, and your tits well suckled. Once our questing has ended you may wed us even."

"Wed? All of you?" The woman looks thrilled at the thought.

"Yes. All 3 of us. If it please you."

"It does!" She goes over to Sir Nanami who helps her onto his horse.

"Then off we go. For more adventures to cum!"

And they all ride away into the sunset.

THE END

@Aether-seawolf @Actuallysaiyan @Makingtimemine @snwvie

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danieyells · 5 months ago

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@2flowerz NOW I CAN POST THEM LOL HERE'S ED TO START WITH

PERVY OLD VAMPIRE IS AN ABSOLUTE GOOBER. . .he's also very very tired. But he has a very nice reaper taking care of him and a friendly dog that wants him to go outside more, so he has people who love and care for him even though he's. . .a little troublesome haha.

also I changed the format from previous posts and added the specific times and seasons and such for each dialogue! this should help lessen some confusion about how to get them.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Ah, there you are. I've a favor to ask of you— come to my room and I'll explain."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Oh? It appears we have some letters. Alas, my eyesight is not what it used to be. Read them out to me, would you?"

well maybe if you didn't stare at your tablet all day. . . .

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I have much to learn about the human world... Rui is teaching me a lot, but I cannot seem to divorce myself of careless blunders."

y'know, it's good he's trying to learn anyway. 400 years old is never too late.

"What did I do before Darkwick? I eked out a humble existence in Eastern Europe. Hm? The most powerful vampire? No, those are just rumors. "

didn't you confirm it yourself in the main story though--also if he was living in eastern europe for the past 400-ish years i wonder if he saw lyca when he was young, even if in passing? then again eastern europe isn't exactly small.

"I was taken by a sudden whim to travel abroad. I had heard good things about Japan so I came over to play, but alas, I was captured."

so he went to japan just to have a nice time for a while but the Institute decided to keep him trapped in Darkwick. . .and then they didn't listen to any warnings or concerns he had. . .no wonder he doesn't give a shit what's going on around here, why would he? They abducted him while he was on vacation--and for what?

"I have no interest in harming humans. After all, they die so quickly. They should enjoy their short lives while they can."

"(cough cough) Oh, it's you... I'm feeling worse than usual today. I don't suppose you could carry me to bed?"

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Good morning... What time is it? ...Still that early? Wake me up again at midday, would you?"

honestly Ed? Mood.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"If this is about a mission, I can't help you, I'm afraid. I leave such day-to-day duties to Rui, so I suggest you ask him instead."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm more or less confined to this house most days, for various reasons. I'm on my best behavior. But I'll do what I can to support you from the sidelines."

y'know, he's offering to help a little even at Affinity 3 and that counts for something in my book.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"My favorite channel should be posting a new video at any moment... Sorry, but could we continue this tomorrow?"

you have not yet reached the stage of friendliness where you're more important than a youtube video lmao

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't suppose you know where Rui is? How troubling... My YouTube video has stopped playing..."

well at this hour i'd check either the bar or his room???

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh, it hurts... I cannot seem to shake this ache in the place Rui touched me earlier... I think I'll rest a while."

so it seems like either his limbs pop off/part of him breaks open when Rui touches him, or he suffers a great deal of pain for an extended period of time, maybe his body actively fighting extremely rapid necrosis? Rui did say that he basically insta-kills anyone who isn't super strong, so Ed being in excruciating pain instead of dying or losing a limb now and then makes sense.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't survive much sunlight. Without my parasol, I can barely go outside... (sigh) It really is quite punishing..."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sounds like Lyca's having fun, from all that yapping. I think it's good for him to develop some temporary bonds with humans at this time in his life."

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I felt the urge to go stargazing, so I went to a hill nearby, but Towa was there already and he chased me away."

TOWA STOP BEING MEAN HE actually he probably would have bothered you and if he smells like a corpse to you that would have been annoying even if he didn't talk to you BUT STILL DON'T BE MEAN.

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You ought to be getting ready for bed. Me? Oh, I'll turn in soon... Just one more YouTube video."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Are you going for a walk? Take care not to spend too long in the garden. Humans are rather susceptible to the miasma there."

WE NEVER DID LEARN ABOUT THE MIASMA. WHAT'S UP WITH THE MIASMA WHY'S THE AIR IN OBSCUARY FUNKY.

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Do you realize that human society is controlled by a shady cabal of elites? There are many videos about it on YouTube."

I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING FOR HIS LAPTOP TO BE TAKEN AWAY OR TIME ON IT RESTRICTED. . .HE'S INTO CONSPIRACY THEORY YOUTUBERS HE'S GONE TOO FAR DOWN THE RABBITHOLE

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"The ghouls are rioting again? Ah ha ha ha, they certainly are full of energy. If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of a YouTube video."

he simply does NOT GIVE A FUCK lmao the ghouls could be dying out there and he'd probably shrug it off. Maybe keep an eye on things with his sixth sense or have some bats watch. Maybe that's part of why so many ghouls dislike him? he doesn't have any concerns for their plights and problems?

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"How strange... I can't find my other sock. I could have sworn I put it here... Have you seen it?"

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Lyca made a mess again? Ah ha ha ha. Try not to judge him too harshly—he's not human, after all."

i think even for non-humans there's some cleanliness to be strived for. . .even pigs are pretty clean animals from what I hear. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Rui? Is my lunch ready yet? ...Oh, it's you. You wouldn't happen to be feeling heartsore, would you?"

he's asking if you're sad because he feeds off of tears more than blood. . . . .he wanted to see if you'd cry for him. . . . . . .wait how does Rui usually go about doing this!? Does he cry every day for him???

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Rui has his tavern work at this hour. He made sure I had everything I needed before he left, though."

ed's all cozy in bed with a nice bottle of tears and his fully charged tablet, all the dirty laundry's off his floor and everything--and now you're here! everything is perfect.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Has night fallen already? Do keep in mind that my vitality returns at this hour. You really should be more careful."

i'm kinda getting Taiga vibes here where as his affinity goes up he kind of clearly wants to eat you more, except where Taiga kinda tried to keep away from doing it until Affinity 24 where he snaps and ties you down and starts hurting you, Ed just starts warning you 'you're in danger being around me right now' lol. When he tells you to be careful he makes the sadist face, so he is telling you to be careful around him specifically. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Come, close your eyes. I'll hold you in my arms until you surrender yourself to the land of slumber."

isn't Ed's skin cold. . .I feel like it may be hard to sleep like that for most people lol then again maybe he'd be perfect for temperature regulation?

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ah, thank you for coming so early. I slept even worse than usual last night... The cleaning can wait. Let me rest my head on your lap, would you?"

'the cleaning can wait' huh. . .is this another Jin situation where he's started to expect you to clean up his room all the time lmao I MEAN RUI ONLY CLEANS IT ONCE A MONTH SO A LITTLE SUPPLEMENTARY CLEANING WOULDN'T HURT. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How are you finding Obscuary? Anomalies live quite differently to humans, so you're adapting to it remarkably well... Perhaps you're predisposed?"

'hey i know you're probably scared about becoming an anomaly that will harm your loved ones and all but you may already be showing signs so you should just stop worrying and join us!' also do they really live so differently. . .so far the main difference is cleanliness lmao

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My, where did the time go? Talking to you is just so relaxing. Why? Perhaps it's because I know I could feast upon you at any moment."

in Japanese he says something like "The sense of security of being able to strike at any moment"--he's saying he could bite you and you're so comfortable with him you wouldn't even put up a fight before he could do it. He's making his 'sadist' face, but I think he means it in a 'you're relaxed around me, and it makes me feel comfortable to' way. . . .or not. He could just mean that he appreciates you as easy prey 8D

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Really. You became embroiled in another petty human dispute? How absurd you humans are. Come here."

he feels so bad for you and always getting involved in some shit. . .you know you wouldn't have to do any of this if you abandoned your humanity and just became an anomaly?

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"So, you've come sneaking into my room in the middle of the night? You really are a wicked girl. What were you hoping for? Go on, say it."

Do you want him to feed off of you? Or do you want him to feast upon you? Or were you just that starved for his company? I feel like he's willing to put aside his tablet for you at this point, especially if you're coming into his window late at night for a little tryst.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Being with you brings up old, old memories... Perhaps it's because you remind me a little of her."

well he is hundreds of years old, so of course he had lovers in the past. . .I wonder if she was also mortal, and if he refuses to see humans and anomalies as compatible because of heartbreak. Or maybe he doesn't get heartbroken like some humans do, and it's just nostalgia. But for someone who struggles to remember things sometimes to have old memories stirred up, I think that's a good thing. He must feel quite old at this point, but having someone around who reminds him of being even a little younger must be nice, even if he doesn't think it will last. . .then again maybe that's part of why he seems like he encourages you to become an anomaly in his character stories. Because he'll get to have you around for longer.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"The plants in our garden become rather lively in the spring. See? There's a little cannibalism going on over there."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"My favorite channels have been updating more frequently than usual of late. I suppose humans really do experience spring fever."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(yawn) I look more tired than usual? Must be the spring weather... Goodnight."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Cherry blossoms are fascinating organisms. Born carrying the stench of death and falling all too soon... Just like humans, really."

i don't think most humans smell like death(unless we're referencing the poem about sakura trees having corpses beneath them to make the petals pink again) but go off i guess--also it makes it seem like he wishes humans lived longer? funny thing for a guy who thinks humans aren't compatible to say.

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Obscuary is lovely in summer. It's so dark and cool, with a lovely miasma breeze. I've no desire to step outside its confines."

honestly living in eternal night during the summer doesn't sound bad aside from all the bugs. but the tentacle plant in the garden probably keeps most of them away, so. . .obscuary in summer sounds lovely.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"How the sun mocks me... Vampires across the nation are advised to avoid going outdoors unless absolutely necessary."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It was so hot this morning that Rui was walking around after his shower in just a towel. A sight for sore eyes, I must say."

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HE IS BISEXUAL. in Japanese he says that Rui was walking around soaking wet and that he's incredibly handsome but doesn't mention the towel--so Rui may have been wet and bare naked walking around Obscuary. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"My air-conditioner? I believe I have it set to 64 degrees. Hm? You're cold? Humans truly are such fragile creatures."

that is almost 18 degrees celcius for the non-americans! it's not that cold imo but it's definitely a little chillier than most people like their personal space.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Humans take extra delight in their meals during the harvest season, do they? Interesting. Perhaps I'll follow suit."

lap up your tears nice and slow and sensual--

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The stamina and physical strength of a vampire is dozens of times that of a human. We don't need to work ou— (cough) (wheeze)"

YOU GOOD BUDDY YOU STARTED COUGHING WITHOUT EVEN MOVING i mean i get it i have asthma but still--

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ah, the curtain of night closes. Now that the days are becoming shorter, my physical and mental health have much improved."

does that mean you don't need help getting dressed for a while--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How beautiful the moon looks tonight. Its light is such a comfort to us non-humans. You look rather lovely bathed in it too."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"(sigh) Even in the dead of winter, Lyca is so full of energy in the mornings... Just try to imagine waking to him barking in your ear."

that explains why you lock him out of your room lmaoooo

(between 11am and 4pm)

"What do you think of my dressing gown? Rui made it for me. It's surprisingly warm."

MOM RUI STRIKES AGAIN MAKING HIS BOY COZY CLOTHES FOR THE WINTER

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(cough cough) I only took a few steps outside, yet I felt as though my heart froze over... It's best not to leave one's room on days like this."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"They say that on cold nights like this, humans long for the warmth of another. Well? Shall I provide it for you?"

DO YOU POSSESS THE WARMTH OF ANOTHER SIR I RECALL YOUR SKIN BEING DESCRIBED AS COLD

His birthday: (November 10th)

"Having you celebrate my birthday makes all these long years of life worth it. How old am I? A gentleman doesn't tell."

given your estimate was 'idk 400 i stopped counting around 300' i think it's less you won't tell and more you can't tell lmaoooo

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday, is it? I'll have to give you a present. What do you want? Go on, tell me."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I heard it's a tradition in this country to impart small monetary gifts. Here, for you."

OTOSHIDAMA GET!!!!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"My, is this for me? I'm touched. I don't usually partake of human food, but I suppose I'll make an exception."

it's about the symbolism! it's the principle of the thing, even if the chocolate tastes bland to your vampire taste buds!

White Day: (March 14th)

"It seems that today those who received chocolates on Valentine's Day are supposed to return the favor. What a conscientious country this is..."

yeah but what'd you get them tho--

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Oh, I'm burning up... I'm not long for this world... Won't you grant me one last request? ...No need to make that face. I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. I'm a real vampire, you know. Give me your blood, or I'll play a trick on you."

probably the only time he's directly stated wanting to drink your blood lol

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. Rather amusing for a vampire to celebrate a holy day, don't you think? Let's fill tonight with magic and wonder."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"I'm going to lie down a while. If you need something, ask Rui."

(13 affinity and above)

"Hello? Oh good, there you are. It would be troublesome for me if you were to disappear. Let me know next time you decide to wander off."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'D BE TROUBLESOME. I guess it's because you clean up after him and help him and stuff. . .and at higher affinities maybe he feeds off of your tears and/or blood. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Well, hello there. It's been a while. Come over here—I've been looking forward to your return."

OUR SLOPPY LIL VAMPIRE BOY. Flirts, drinks tears, minds his own business, and is on his best behavior despite that he was abducted by Darkwick. They should be thankful he's not angrier, considering he's apparently strong enough to LEVEL A BUILDING ON HIS OWN. As his affinity goes up he seems to be more comfortable around you, although that comes with the concern that he expresses less human thoughts more openly. . .which isn't a bad thing, imo. He should be allowed to be an anomaly. He's not harming or preying on you, just saying he could and that he's dangerous. But he also just seems to like physical affection and flirting and having you do chores for him so he can be lazy. . . .

I love him lol he's stinky

#edward hart #datamining cw #tokyo debunker spoilers #danie yells at tokyo debunker #now i have to update the masterlist. . . .#tokyo debunker

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markrosewater · 5 months ago

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Hey Mark, I just wanted to say you've always seemed like a really cool guy. I've played magic for over 4/5ths of my life, since the early 2000s when I was only five years old, I even met most of my long time friends through it. But I think I finally feel alienated enough by it to drop it entirely.

I always enjoyed every aspect of this game, from the deckbuilding, to the flavor, to the color pie and the possibilities it presented. I loved the fantasy of it, of planeswalkers and wizards, dragons and castles.

Universes Beyond really was the end of it, all the way back then. When i heard the announcements I was terrified, I knew where it would lead even then. I loved the world of Magic, and it feels silly to say about a card game but I truly felt immersed in the world when I played, even with the different planes, everything cohered to an internal set of rules that seemed unbreakable.

For a while I continued, our local scene created a variant format that banned Universes Beyond cards so I was able to ignore them, but then came Neon Dynasty. It felt strange to me, like it was breaking what I had come to expect out of the game. Most people disagreed, said it was still Magic enough, but I wondered just how far it would be pushed before Magic lost any identity of its own, anything that separated it from Fortnite or any other crossover soup known entirely for the things it borrows rather than the things it is.

When I saw the first spoilers for Duskmourn, I think that was the straw that broke the camel's back. When I play at the table with my friends, I enjoy the fact that all the cards feel like part of one larger universe. And when I see cards with televisions and smartphones in them, with modern clothing and internet references, I just can't fit them together in my mind. It seems like a cool world, much like a lot of the crossovers are cool worlds, but I play Magic for well... Magic. If I wanted to play Fallout or Warhammer 40k, or watch Insidious or Walking Dead, then I would. But when I play Magic, I want to see magic.

And it's canon, just as canon as Innistrad or Alara. We can't excise it like we can Universes Beyond, and if we can't, then what's even the point of trying to "protect the tone" with those bans? What tone are we protecting, that's already been shattered from within?

More and more it feels like the game just isn't for me, doesn't want the kind of player that feels strongly about cohesion and immersion. And that's fine, it doesn't have to cater to me, and the current approach seems to bring in more people than it drives away. But it still just makes me sad, on a deep personal level, to give up on what has been such a major part of my life.

In all likelihood, I'm an outlier, and you could easily say that Magic getting even broader in what it covers is only a positive thing. Take my critiques only as the lamentations of a single person. But when you can put anything in a piece of media, when there's no unifying idea of what is and isn't possible, then it just starts to feel meaningless.

I'm sorry, I know you'll probably never read this, I mostly just needed to get it off my chest- and you're the closest thing to a human face Magic the Gathering has. Thank you for all the work you've put into it over the years, and I'm sorry that I can't enjoy it anymore.

Thanks for writing. From a big picture, Magic excels at creating variety and does poorly at consistency. The core idea of a trading card game is we make lots and lots of pieces you can play with and then you, the player, customize your game as you see fit. History has shown us, the wider we spread the potential of what Magic can be, the more people find something they enjoy and are attracted to the game.

Think of it this way. Each player has a different sense of what Magic is to them. There's no cutoff point where we make the majority of players happy. In fact, for many players, it's the ever-expanding quality to the game that they enjoy most.

This does mean though that we might make choices that don't connect with what you personally enjoy, and I respect that. If Magic isn't providing what you want out of it, that's okay. My only recommendation is don't get rid of your cards. Many Magic players rotate in and out of the game, and the number one complaint I hear from players who rotate back in is them having gotten rid of everything when they rotated out.

Magic might not be what you need right now, but maybe a few years from now you've changed in ways which makes it something you will enjoy. Or maybe Magic will evolve in a way that speaks to you. The only constant I know is you and Magic will both change. Just leave yourself the possibility of reconnecting.

Thanks for playing all these years, and I hope to see you again.

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esyra · 1 year ago

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These days, I have long debated what to write regarding Palestine-Israel, and questioned why I should write anything at all. The idea that celebrities and the loudest chronically online people you've ever met, blessed in their ignorance and indifferent to livehoods different than theirs, feel the need to opinate on social and geopolitical issues is absolutely insane. Most of the time, they do more harm than good—spreading misinformation like wildfire. Such opinions are what convinced me to ultimately talk about it.

Rest assured I'm not particularly qualified to talk about any of this, then again no one seems (or tries) to be. This is not a statement, simply questions about selected nuance. Full disclosure: I am of Palestinian descent. And I tried my hardest to be all-encompassing and empathetic; if I fail at any moment, my sincerest apologies.

All around social media I've seen only two kinds of posts regarding Palestine and Israel; they're either completely favorable to Israel and dehumanize Palestine or they treat Palestines as a footnote, in which it's made to assure its author doesn't endorse murder but also to point out that Palestine "deserve what's coming." There's a certain nuance required to support Palestine that's not asked when supporting Israel.

I've seen Jamie Lee Curtis reposting a picture of Palestinian children watching Israelis air strikes as if they were of Israeli children. There's no doubt it was a malicious-intended post considering she credited the photographer while deleting the original caption which explicitly explained who the ones pictured were. After being severely corrected in the comments, she simply deleted and made no mention of it. Guess children don't matter if they're Palestinian. I've seen way too many celebrities responding to the conflict with worries about how they might be affected by it, as self-centered and selfish as you can imagine.

I've seen a journalist claim that 40 Israeli babies were beheaded and multiple newspapers (many of them British, because what else can you expect from them?) and public figures reposting as a fact, only for the same journalist to later claim she actually "never said that" (she absolutely did). Also the IDF explaining they have no information confirming the allegations that 'Hamas beheaded babies'. I've seen people using statements from Sabra and Shatila massacre survivors and trying to rewrite Palestine, which were the victims of said crime, as the perpetrators. I've seen people using videos of Russian attacks as Palestinian ones. I've seen a British journalist fabricating a harmful statement from a Palestinian Ambassador to help dehumanize Palestine, and being proud of such. I've seen BBC using the nuances of language to their liking, reporting how Israelis were 'killed' while Palestinians 'died'. Always heard journalists avoid adjectives in favor of being unbiased. Again, guess that's unimportant when it comes to Palestine. Most of all, I've seen people equate supporting Palestine to anti-semitism.

If that belief steams that Palestine and Hamas are one-and-the-same, and the latter is a anti-semitism organization, then that's another concern I'd like to add the recently appraised 'nuance'.

Hamas first appeared during the first intifada, a Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation of the West Bank, Gaza, and East Jerusalem. The signing of the Oslo Accords in 1993 marked the end of the uprising—an agreement between Israel and Palestine meant to lay the groundwork for the formation of a Palestinian state alongside Israel. Instead, it has erased Palestine's recognition as a State. In its history, Hamas have equate the liberation of Palestinians with the destruction of Israel, likely the reason they're a highly divisive organization that has often been at oddens with more mainstream Palestinian politicians. However, Hamas backtracked on its aims in a 2017 proclamation, making it clear that what it wants is to end a “racist, anti-human and colonial Zionist project.” In its 16th topic, they state "Hamas affirms that its conflict is with the Zionist project not with the Jews because of their religion. Hamas does not wage a struggle against the Jews because they are Jewish but wages a struggle against the Zionists who occupy Palestine."

The description of the Israeli occupation as fascist most likely comes from the similarities of Palestine to an "open air prison". They have no control of their own borders (IDF controls who and what enters or leaves) and are deemed stateless. "In defiance of international law, Israel considers all Palestinians inhabitants of the occupied Palestinian territory as non-citizens and foreign residents." Meaning if they leave their territory, they won't be allowed back in. Their rights in the Arab World are uncertain, particularly in Lebanon and Egypt where they are denied rights to secure residency, employment, property, communal interaction and family unification. Procedures to allow non-residents to apply for naturalisation in Lebanon, Egypt and Saudi Arabia do not apply to stateless Palestinians. So while those asking for Palestinians to be evacuated for their safety certainly have noble intentions, I ask of you: where they will go? Can you imagine walking away from home knowing you're heading into nothing? What's the difference between living in the rumbles of their homes and being homeless in another country?

The ones who decide to stay (and the ones unable to leave) are likely not making it for much longer. According to the United Nations, roughly 6,400 Palestinians and 300 Israelis have been killed in the ongoing conflict since 2008, not counting the recent fatalities. Is it truly a war if one side is so overpowering in its resources and retaliations? I feel the need to point out these stats to question why the notion that "violence is never the answer" is only used now. When it has been the only response until now.

Then again, Hamas remains a polarizing force in Palestinian society. They're an organization that's slaughtering families and less than a third of Palestinians think the group deserves to represent them. There has not been an opportunity, however, for elections to change their representatives. Palestinians living in Gaza must endure an unstable political reality with an unrepresentative government implementing repressive policies against LGBTQ people and abusive policies against detainees. Israel's Prime Minister Netanyahu purposefully propped up Hamas and there has been speculation that Iran has supported them. I've seen many post as if it's a fact, so I'd like to reinforce that it's speculation. In essence, Hamas is a terrorist group with questionable history and even more questionable allies. None of which has the Palestine's best interests at heart.

This has been overly long, and I still haven't touched on all topics I wished to address. Some I probably couldn't express properly since it's such a complex geopolitical issue. Then again, no one seems to try while all seem very comfortable in being as biased as they wish to be. So I thought I add my compassionate two cents in favor of Palestine and all the years of oppresion they've endured. I still hope you'll read this to the end, and extended to Palestine the same sympathetic hand you've rightfully extended to Israeli citizens.

My heart aches for the innocent people murdered, Palestinian and Israeli. Settlers aren’t innocent, but people who were born there didn't really choose to be one. Jewish people following matters of faith don't deserve to die. No one has (or should have) the right to take someone's life away. People at the Gaza Strip that are either just trying to survive or attempting to protect their homes also don't deserve to die, as flawed as their logic and actions might be, and many are missing that nuance. The denial of food, water, and medical aid, violates the Geneva convention. And it's a kind of retaliation that Palestine in its entirety will never be able to match.

Currently, the Israeli government is preparing a ground invasion of Gaza. An anonymous Israeli official said they would turn Gaza into “a city of tents.” A parliamentarian said that Israel should not concern itself with the safety of any Gazans who “chose” to stay in the Gaza Strip, as if every crossing hasn't been blocked.

Soon, the 'war' will end. And when it does, I can assure you Palestine won't be the last one standing. They've never had a real chance. I'd like to remember everyone that, despite Netanyahu's claims that they are "human animals", Palestinians are human beings. People. All of which deserve to live, deserve compassion and deserve protection. They also deserve to be remembered.

#palestine #israel #hamas

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thir10th · 7 months ago

Text

2x20- Honor among thieves

Summary: Emily is scared to tell her mother about her relationship. This is a one-shot inspired by 2x20 because I love this kind of dynamic. It's a whole episode insert. TW: some suggestive content, fluff, coming out, I really can't think of anything else but let me know if I'm missing something A/N: I love making these, and I've realized there's almost no episode inserts for Emily in a one-shot format and why is that??? i love these sm please people write more like this. English it's not my first language and it's 4am so sorry for any mistakes. Enjoy, any feedback is appreciated, please like and reblog if you like it.

“Excuse me, agent. I need to speak to agent Prentiss and one of her superiors” a commanding voice can be heard from outside the room. You don’t recognize it, so you look at Emily, sitting next to you, her almost horrified face tells you she does know who the woman speaking is. She shoots up from her seat, and looking down you can hear her asking “Mother?” You had never meet Emily’s mom, but you had heard some conversations with her daughter over the phone. You could always tell she wasn’t in a good mood because her mom had called. In a way it reminded you of your own relationship with your mom. Emily and you were open about your relationship, everyone on the team knew and they supported you. Once you had promised to limit the PDA, even Hotch had let you share hotel rooms during cases, and change desks with Spencer so you could be next to each other. However, families were always a different area. You knew how strict Emily’s mom had been with her, and still was. She hadn’t told her about you yet, so to her mother’s eyes, Emily was still single, and hadn’t been in a relationship for a long time now. You didn’t mind it, Emily wasn’t close to her family, or any other relatives. The BAU was like your family, it was her choice after all.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

Whatever happened inside Hotch’s office convinced him to take the case. You kept an eye on Emily the whole time you were discussing the case. She stays by the poor woman’s side who can’t stop crying over her husband’s chopped off finger, Emily keeps trying to calm her talking to her in Russian. Hotch divides the team, sends Reid, Morgan and Gideon were sent to Baltimore, and you stayed there along with Emily and Hotch.

You knew your girlfriend and her mom weren’t exactly close, what you weren’t expecting was how her presence would affect Emily. You want to comfort her but you can’t do it in front of her mom, so you just keep sneaking to rest your hand on her thigh behind the table, maybe to caress her shoulder when no one is looking, she leans on your touch accepting it. Emily and you both walk up to Hotch when he gets out of his office “Your mother’s got feelers out. She’s confident she can get results” he tells Emily “Well, if anybody can, it’s Ambassador Prentiss” she answers “How is she doing?” Hotch asks referring to the victim’s wife, who is still crying in the chair Emily just left her “How would you be?” She answers JJ finally arrives accompanied by the translator, who she has already briefed, and takes her to talk with the family. “Thank god. I’m really not very good at Russian” Emily tells us, and even Hotch smiles “If it would be all right, I would like to go help my mother” Hotch accepts, but she just stands there, looking at you, almost as if trying to say something she doesn’t dare to say. You know she wants you to come with her, but doesn’t know if you’re ok with it, and won’t ask the question. “Hotch, may I-“ “Yes, go” you don’t even have to finish asking, he accepts and you see Emily’s expression change and relax “Thank you, sir” you say, but he has already turned around and you follow Emily

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

“Hey you” you say with a soft voice, entering the rest room, you were dying for some alone time with your girlfriend and it seemed like that was the only place you would find it “how are you coping?” You ask, as you stepped closer to her. She was standing in the mirror, looking at her reflection grabbing her hair with her hands “I’m great!” She says sarcastically, and made you chuckle, you wrap your arm around her waits, pulling her close to you, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek, she smiles weakly in approval.

"I know this is being hard for you Em" you tell her, running your hand through her back soothingly.

"It´s just... when I'm with my mom... It doesn't matter if it's at work, or at home, I could be anywhere and still feel like I'm 16 again" she lets out, resting her head on your shoulder and pulling you closer. "I can't be who i really am... i mean, we have to hide in the bathroom to even touch" she says referring to the current situation

"Wait, -be who you really are?- Em, you haven't come out?" you ask, feeling a mix of surprise and sadness, telling her mother about her relationship is one thing, but not telling her she was gay at all, it's a completely different business.

"No, I'm sorry.... it never felt like the right time to do it, and you saw her, I mean how am I even supposed to do it? Does this...change anything?" You would obviously never pressure Emily into comin out, you knew very well yourself how hard it could be, and everyone's case is different, even tho this only confirmed your previous worry on not being able to have a relationship of any kind with Emily's mother, you could also feel how frustrating everything was for her, how much she needed this.

"Hey, no, of course it doesn't, how could it? mph?" you tighten your grip around her waist to avoid her letting go, resting your other hand on her cheek, caressing her face with your thumb, she closes her eyes relying on the touch, moving her lips to kiss the palm of your hand, you bring her face close to kiss her. Her lips grazing yours softly, you caress her face with your hand, she touches your face with her hand, pulling you closer, deeper.

The sudden noise of the door opening surprises you, you quickly pull away from each other, you turn around to see her mom just entered the restroom. She mutters a soft "hello" mostly for Emily, more than for you. You try to play it cool as well as you can, finish washing your hands as fast as you can and leave, praying that she hasn't seen anything.

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

You try to keep quiet as you overhear a conversation between Emily and her mom on the other room. Emily seems upset at how her mom is -turning the conversation into an interrogation- as she just said, and you casually walk in which shuts them up suddenly. A call comes in for Ambassador Prentiss and she picks up right after the first tone.

"Gregor! My daughter Em's in the room with me" she greets the man on the other line "Ah! little Emily" he says. you can't contain the smile that forms on your lips, looking at Emily and mouthing the nickname to mess with her, she smiles back, mouthing you to keep it down, but she can't contain the smile that forms on her lips as well. Unfortunately, the man can't give us any new information, so he says goodbye to Emily, and she hangs up the phone in defeat.

"We should head back to the office and let them know" Emily says, and you rush to go with her, her mom makes you stay, she insists she needs to ask you a few questions about the list of names you had called Garcia to run earlier, and you tell Emily you'll meet her outside.

Your whole body tenses as you see the d¡way Emily's mom is looking at you, you can tell she's trying to decipher you, maybe she saw something when she entered the restroom earlier, maybe she'll tell you she wants wyou away from her daughter.

"Agent y/l/n, are you by any chance close to my daughter?" she asks, you can tell she's genuinely curious, it's not a rethorical question, so you try to answer with as much sincerity as you can.

"well, yes, almost since the first time we met, I mean, you could tell we are pretty close" it's the most honest you can be without saying -actually, we spend a lot of time together, mostly in bed-

"and would you say she's happy?" this one takes you by surprise, you can hear the concern in her voice, she's just a worried mother.

"from what i know Emily, and i believe i can say it's a lot, i would say she is very happy, but with all due respect, if you really wanna know maybe you should ask her yourself, just like that" she takes a couple of seconds to look at you, analysing what your answer and yourself, then, dismissing you with a "Thank you" you leave.

"what did she want from you?" she asked, you could read the worry in her eyes

"she wanted to know if we were close, and if you were happy" you tell her straight away. "and what did you tell her?" she asks, confused. "i said we were quite close, and from what i could tell, you were pretty content" she nods, accepting your answer. "She seemed pretty defeated, maybe she isn't infallible after all"

•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨•.¸¸.•´¨`•.¸¸.•*

It didn't take much longer to solve this case. The victim's daughter being involved in the kidnapping came as a surprise to all of you, but as always, you let it go, and finished for the day.

You and Emily went back to her apartment, there were very few nights you spent apart, and this was no other. You were specially happy tonight to have some alone time to spend with one another.

Emily was quick to flop on the couch as soon as you entered the apartment, it made you happy to see her as her usual self in the confort of her apartment.

"I'm so glad this one's over" she breathes out as she struggles to take her shoes off. You headed towards the kitchen to grab something to drink for the both of you, looking at Emily and chuckling at her efforts. "Need a hand with that?" you said suggestively as you grab two wine glasses of the counter.

She gets up the couch and heads your direction "Here you go" you say offering her a glass of red wine. She takes a sip and smiles, turning her head to look at you.

"I'm sorry if i was a bit frisky today" she says "It's ok, you had a rough one, we all do, you were also under a lot of pressure" you added, trying to take it off her mind, and taking another sip of your glass. "Well, I think i know how to make it up for you" she smirks and rises her eyebrows, taking your glass and leaving it along with hers on the counter again, she grabs you by the waist, pulling you closer and kissing you deeply.

You breath out in release, thankful to finally be this close after the stressful day. She grabs you with both her hands, leaving you on the countertop, moving to your neck, leaving wet, soft kisses all over the sensitive skin there, you wrap your arms around her neck and hers find their way underneath your shirt.

You pull your head back, allowing your girlfriend a better access to your neck, which she uses to cover all your neck in kisses, nipping at your skin there which would for sure leave purple marks by tomorrow. You moan when she finds your pulse-point, and run your hands through her body, getting rid of her shirt as fast as you can, going back to kissing her lips.

She starts unbuttoning your shirt, not wanting to waste any second. She pushes you further onto the countertop where she has a better access to your body, you wrap your legs around her waist, running your hands over her back, trying to reach every square inch of skin you can get to.

She's right about to start unbuttoning your pants when a knock on the door surprises the both of you

"Did you order dinner?" You ask her, she shooks her head. She grabs her shirt and rushes to get it on, when you hear the knock again, you start buttoning yours too.

"I'll go check it out" You say, as you get to the door and open it in a hurry. You were ready to make go away whoever was trying to interrupt your night, but instead your mouth just flew open as you saw who was knocking on your girlfriend's door. "Ambasador Prentiss?"

"Hello? Agent y/l/n I thought this was my daughter's adress" she says in confusion, you can't even respond, you've siemply freezed.

"Mom?!" Emily chokes out behind you "What are you even doing here?" she rushes towalk next to you, when you look at her you notice how she hasn't placed her shirt right yet.

"Well, i thought now that I'm here, i could pay my daughter a visit, but I didn't think you had guests, what is she doing here?" she asks, almost ignoring the fact that you're also there, and asking her daughter directly. However, and considering Emily's shocked face, you take it upon yourself to answer.

"I came in because i needed to return a blender i borrowed form Emily last week, i was almost in my way out tho, so don't worry" you say trying to save the situation.

"No, y/n, wait" Emily started, as she took a step closer to you

"Wait, Em, you don't have to" you say, trying to stop her from making a mistake

"I actually do" she says looking at you, her eyes full of fear and excitment reflecting on yours

"Mom, Y/n is, well, she is my grilfriend, we've been daiting over a year now, I'm gay" she grabs your hand, and you hold her tight, trying to clam her down, and showing her your support.

"And I am telling you because I don't want to hide, not anymore" she adds, and you can feel how her hand tights around yours.

"well... i don't know what to say" you both wait for an answer, but it takes a long time for it to come. "I mean, I can't say I'm surprised" she finally says, and Emily can't contain her impatience "how- i mean- what do you mean?"

"Well you really thought you could wonder around all these years without your mother knowing a thing?" nether of you could hide your surprise. "I don't care that your gay, Emily, could i please come in now? I could really use a glass of wine, I hope I'm interrupting something now, of course".

Your girlfriend and you look at each other in awe "No, not at all" you both say at unison, and you can feel yourself blushing when you realize your shirt was still open this whole time.

You let the woman in, and Emily and her move to sit on the couch as you go to the kitchen to serve her another glass of wine, and grab yours.

"Here, Ambassador" you say, offering her a glass

"Oh please, call me Elisabeth" she says to your surprise, accepting the wine. You and Emily smile at each other as you move to sit next to her.

You knew you were in for a long night, just not the kind you had expected.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x reader fluff #emily prentiss lesbian #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds 2x20 #emily prentiss imagine #bisexual reader

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catopoliscat · 7 months ago

Text

nail day / fem!reader/atsuya kusakabe.

you always had a way of catching atsuya off-guard in your relationship. you decide to take things to a whole new level with just your nails, and then atsuya's doing things he never thought he would be doing, in places he never thought he'd be doing them.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. afab!reader. established relationship (you've been together a few months). ‘get your nails painted the colour of his tip’. canon!verse. atsuya gives me heavy boomer energy ngl. sexting. semi-public sex (kind of, solo masturbation). mentions of edging (reader). shades of dom!reader but feels more like more sexually-open!reader lmao. shades of insecure kuskabe. man has feelings but don’t tell him. toge, maki and panda cameo at the start because i love them. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.

wc: 6.9k

a/n: a masterclass in how to stretch a 2k concept into nearly 7k for no reason ft. an overlooked side character, blegh

also tumblr keeps fucking up my formatting with the texts in this so,,, ignore that. i've tried to fix it twice.

mdni.

The ‘ding’, though faint, rings out through the quiet walls of the classroom, disturbing the languid, tranquil air.

Atsuya purses his lips around his lollipop, eyes slowly opening. He’s reluctant to move his body from its semi-comfortable position—feet propped up on the edge of the worn desk in front of him, hands behind his head. It was a favourite of his during the warmer hours of the afternoon on a slower work day, like today. From his spot, the soft sun filters in through the windows just right, warming his body and making him just the right amount of relaxed.

He doesn’t have to look at the clock above the dated chalkboard to know what time it was, his body told him that. Just another twenty minutes and then it was home-sweet-home.

Swinging his eyes lazily across his cluttered desk, he spots his phone amidst the ungraded papers and documents. The screen is lit up, lighting up the cracks on the glass he is still yet to replace. He can make out the faint outline of a text message, from you no doubt, but once again, he’s reluctant to move to check it just yet.

Astuya rolls his tongue around the sweet in his mouth once, then twice. The stick rolls from the left side of his mouth to the right.

His eyes flick up to his students across from him, his gaze moving across each one. Panda’s head rests in his large fist (paw?), his beady black eyes slowly blinking, clearly still trying to stay awake although his teacher was almost napping mere moments ago. Toge was reclined in his chair, feet kicked out across the aisle, fiddling with his phone underneath the desk where he presumed Atsuya couldn’t see it (he could, and he could definitely recognise the sound of Candy Crush when he heard it). His eyes finally meet Maki’s where she sits, arms folded, spear resting against her desk like a faithful dog.

She holds Atsuya’s gaze with a strength a sixteen-year-old shouldn’t have, something searching in her gaze. After a few moments of uncomfortable eye contact (at least on Atsuya’s behalf), she raises an eyebrow at him, the thin arch peeking above the rim of her glasses.

The ‘ding’ rings out again.

“Are you going to answer that?” she finally says. Panda jolts in his seat, straightening up, looking across the classroom as if expecting someone to come running in. Toge’s eyes do not move from his lap, ‘delicious!’ echoing through the classroom a second later.

“Get back to work,” Atsuya grumbles, shooting Maki a withering look before reaching for his phone anyway, pulling it toward his eyes.

pain in my ass sent you a photo.

He squints, just about making out the small icon of the photo in the corner of the notification. It looks like your hand.

Oh yeah, he thinks to himself, nail day. Even when you were away on a mission, you always seemed to make time for it.

Atsuya flicks his gaze across his students again and sees three sets of eyes trained on him despite his earlier order. Seems like he was the most interesting thing in this classroom right now.

Ignoring the expectant look of his students, he unlocks his phone with a swipe of his thumb. He pulls up the text thread with you, presses on the photo and low and behold, there’s your hand, nails adorned with a fresh new colour. A pretty kind of dark pink.

Atsuya exhales a gush of air through his nose, admiring the contour of your hand for a moment. You hadn’t sent a message with it, and for a moment he’s tempted just to leave a thumbs up on the picture and call it a day. After all, what the hell did he know about manicures? Your nails looked nice, he guessed, but you always looked nice, even without them.

But then he remembers the lecture you had given him about his ‘lacklustre’ responses once and he hesitates. Despite having a sister, he still didn’t get women. At all. And it showed sometimes. Sometimes.

He clears his throat and glances across at his students. “Woman sends you a nail picture, what do you say? Go.”

Maki raises an eyebrow at him again, her expression the definition of the question ‘really, idiot?’

Panda perks up a little though, scratching at his chin. “Something complimentary, maybe? How about… ’looks very nice?’”

Atsuya nods, pursing his lips around the lollipop in his mouth for a moment. It sounded good to him, at least.

Toge shakes his head, a small, negatory ‘fish flakes’ falling from his lips. Atsuya frowns at him for putting doubt in his mind—and for the fact that the speech-user didn’t give him any sort of clue as to what he should say instead.

“Is this really necessary?” Maki drawls at last, kicking one heel over the other, “She’s your girlfriend.”

A beat of silence passes in the classroom.

“Give me a good response and I’ll let you leave now.”

Maki holds his stare for a moment longer, before pushing back her chair with a loud scrape. She walks over to Atsuya’s desk and holds out her hand, even that small movement is somehow aggressive.

Atsuya hesitates for a second, glancing down at the girl's slightly calloused palm. His eyes flick to the message thread after, scrolling up a little, making sure there wasn’t anything… obscene, before handing her the phone.

He watches as she types something, both thumbs moving faster than Atsuya could ever manage before he hears the little familiar ‘woosh’ of a message being sent. She hands him back the phone a moment later.

She folds her arms across her chest again. “Well?”

Atsuya raises a finger, looking down at the message.

Gorgeous as always. I love that colour on you.

He keeps his finger raised as he stares down at the message, watching as the small ‘read 2:37 pm’ pops up underneath his forged text.

A little heart pops up a second later, and Atusya clicks his fingers before jabbing his thumb in the direction of the classroom door. His students waste little time in grabbing their things and filing out of the classroom, the door shutting a moment later.

Wow, who knew you could be so adorable, Cutiekabe?

Atsuya smiles, a touch smugly, to himself. He briefly contemplates how weird it would be if he got his students to write more of his texts to you. They clearly understood something he didn’t.

what can I say? I try

He slumps back in his seat a little more, pleased with himself. His pride quickly melts away, however, when you reply again.

So, who was it? Maki or Toge?

Atsuya mutters a small ‘shit’ around his lollipop, before pulling it from between his lips with a pop. He should have known better. You had always been freakishly… aware of things.

… what gave it away?

The correct grammar. idiot

Dumping his phone in his lap with a sigh, Atsuya scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he can try and salvage the situation. He knew you weren’t mad-mad, but still. It wasn’t exactly a good look for him—and he knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this for a good long while. A grown man having a sixteen-year-old write his message because he was useless with genuine affection and emotion? Embarrassing.

The phone dings again, and he picks it back up, shoving his lollipop back into his mouth.

Do you like them though? The colour’s special. Really special.

Raising an eyebrow, he scrolls up back to the hand photo to see what he just missed. Was pink your favourite colour? He couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so… but now he was doubting again. He had already messed up once, and now he was on a fast track to digging himself a deeper grave.

i like them a lot its a real nice pink

Atsuya cringes at his choice of words and wishes he could unsend the message, but he knows you’ve already seen it.

You should. You look at the same shade every day, you know.

…?

“…the fuck did I miss?” he mutters to himself, frowning down at the screen.

It’s the colour of your tip, Kusakabe.

He raises an eyebrow at his phone as his thumbs tap out another reply.

the tip of my what?

It takes Atsuya three heartbeats before he realises what you’re saying.

He almost drops his phone in his haste to scroll back up to the photo, his feet sliding off the desk as he leans forward in his seat. That pinkish shade on the tips of your nails glares back at him, and his eyes grow wider and wider by the second. Only now you’ve pointed it out, the shade is really fucking familiar, and it’s all he can see now.

His lips part, the lollipop falling from his mouth and onto the floor.

The tip of his dick. You got your nails painted the same colour as his fucking dick.

ur kiddingreally? why

There’s a pause before he sends another stream of messages.

is this some trend thing? or a prank? seems fucking weird u couldn’t have done my eyes or something? anything that wasn’t to do with my actual dick???

It’s as if he can hear the echo of your laughter in the room with him right now, even though he knows you’re a few hundred miles away. In his mind's eye, he can make out the crease of your eyes and cheeks as you take in his borderline shocked and repulsed expression.

Atsuya knew you were younger than him, though only a little—but sometimes it felt as if you two were worlds apart when it came to things like this. He didn’t know how you kept up with it all. Especially if the main trends of today were getting your nails painted dick-colours.

What, you don’t like it, baby? It’s like I have you with me wherever I go, now. Or your dick, anyway.

He rolls his eyes, your teasing tone heard loud and clear. He briefly contemplates letting the message hang, let you bask in your own foolishness while he heads back to the apartment—though he had been spending more time at the school lately. Home felt a little weird without you there, as much as he loathed to think about it.

Another ding.

It’s gonna be so much more fun touching myself later.

And just like that, Atsuya feels his whole world grind to a halt with just a few words. In a flash of smoke, all thoughts of his dick shade (was it really that pink though?) disappear out of the window, replaced instead with an image that comes as clearly to him as his own reflection.

You, sprawled out on some dusted futon in a rundown hotel, naked and flushed—thighs parted, pussy glistening and wet, ready for him; clit swollen underneath those pretty pink fingertips and—

Atsuya’s head whips over his shoulder left and right, clutching his phone a little tighter to himself, despite the classroom being blissfully empty. Still, he’s cautious—as he should be while at work. In a fucking school no less.

goddamn womanare u trying to kill me? im still at work

Atsuya’s hand drifts down, adjusting himself as discreetly as he can manage. He’s not fully hard, but his cock is definitely sitting a little heavier in his slacks just from the mere thought of your words alone. You always had that affect on him.

Well, that, and two weeks (15 days to be exact) without you was starting to drive him insane. His hand could only do so much—even with your panties wrapped around them.

Atsuya curses, trying (and failing) not to think about that as he feels himself swell a little fuller. Luckily, another ding registers before he can dwell on what he’s more than likely going to do as soon as he gets home.

Why? I bet you sent the kids out ages ago.

He purses his lips. There was that freaky-woman-sixth-sense you seemed to have. That, or he was just that predictable.

still!!!u know what u do to me…u really gonna do that tho?

Atsuya pauses, his thumbs stilling a moment, before he continues on.

send pics if u do

He hesitates again, his face pulling into some sort of grimace.

i really fucking miss you

Cringing a little, he locks his phone before you can reply, shoving it into his pocket and standing from his desk. He couldn’t deal with anything else right now, not while he was at work. Not with Satoru hanging around too.

The last thing he wanted in the world was for that white-haired fool to see him walking around with a goddamn boner.

Packing up his things in an even more harried and rushed way than usual, papers half-spilling out of his briefcase, he throws on his coat before heading out the door. All he had to do was pick up a few things from the store for dinner and then he was home free and he could… indulge.

Although the idea of another night fucking up into his fist imagining it was your hand around him wasn’t ideal, it would do for now. Maybe you really would send a few pictures to help him along. Hell, at this point he’d use that damn hand picture.

Continuing down the hallway, his mind a million miles away, he tells himself he won’t check his phone until he gets back home just in case you do. It was safer that way. You were… unpredictable sometimes. Especially when it came to sex.

“Not until I get back home,” he mutters under his breath as he strides down the hallway.

He tells himself that, anyway.

What Atsuya Kusakabe tells himself and what he actually does are sometimes two separate things.

Standing in a small supermarket an hour later, looking at the different packages of instant ramen (God, you’d moan at him if you knew he was eating ready meals instead of something sustainable, but what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you), he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.

His eyes move from the rows of brightly-coloured plastic packaging down to the square lump in his slacks. He chews on his bottom lip indecisively for a moment, telling himself it was probably just you goading him for actually admitting he liked having you close—and not the pictures he had already spent an entire train journey fantasising about.

Atsuya swallows, ignoring the vibration as he pulls a random ramen packet from the shelf and dumps it in the basket on his arm.

He’s standing in the beer and wine aisle when his phone vibrates again, reminding him about the notification. His eye twitches, but once again, he ignores it—dumping a four-pack of cheap beer into his basket alongside his cheap meal.

Again, his phone vibrates in the fresh-food aisle (he doesn’t pick anything up, just passing through on the way to the candy), and again, he ignores it.

Three more times it chimes, in quick succession, as he picks up a lollipop. His fingers twitch around the stick as he stares at the packaging—strawberry and sakura-flavoured!

Flushed pink colour, stick included.

Atsuya swallows, throwing the lollipop back on the pile quickly and instead grabs a watermelon-flavoured one. Bright green.

His phone vibrates once more on his way to the checkout, and Atsuya’s resolve breaks like a taut wire. Impatience finally wins out.

As he digs his hand into his pocket, fishing out his phone, he tells himself it’s because he cares. After all, you rarely texted him this much. What if you had run into trouble? Maybe you were asking for help? Burying the voice that tells him that if that were the case, then you’d at least call him—he swipes open his phone—

—and then he nearly drops the damn thing on the floor.

Phone opening straight back up on the message thread, he’s greeted by several photos of you—fully naked, spread out across sheets, just like in his earlier fantasy… but fucking better because this was real. Right in front of him. So close, yet so far.

Atsuya slams the screen against his chest so fucking quickly it makes a loud thump, and an older woman further down the aisle sends him a strange look. He offers a strained smile in return as he turns his back to her, his heartbeat thumping against his ribs.

Close the damn thread, Kusakabe, he tells himself, wait until you get back home.

What he tells himself and what he does, however…

Atsuya walks quickly, quicker than he ever did at work, until he disappears down an emptier aisle, heat prickling at the back of his neck. His footsteps draw to a stop right next to some laundry detergent, and with a quick look left and right, he peels his phone from his chest like a bloodied bandage, slowly, as if scared of the damage underneath.

He takes another peek at the images, and sure enough, there you still are. It might not have been some rundown motel or futon (thank fuck), but the white sheets underneath make the familiar flush of your skin practically glow. The first few images are of your face and chest, smiling up at the camera above you all sweet and saccharine like you have no idea what the fuck that look does to him. His eyes trail over your face, your lashes and the curve of your lips, before slowly dragging downward, down your neck and across your collarbone, until his eyes lock onto your breasts.

You’ve got one hand squeezing one of the mounds, freshly done fingernails digging into the plump flesh just enough to leave indents. The pink of your nails shines in the low light, and his mind snaps to the thought of his cock between your tits, sliding between the valley slick with spit and pre-cum as you looked up at him from underneath your lashes. It was something he hadn’t done yet but fuck if he hadn’t thought about it. Dreamt about it sometimes too.

“…oh fuck,” Atsuya mutters under his breath, glancing around him once more to make sure he was still alone. He was, but this was dangerous—he knew it. He became distinctly aware of the potential of cameras around, scoping out for thieves and delinquents. All it would take was one dedicated employee who was paying attention to see a grown man lusting at pictures of a naked woman on his phone in the middle of a fucking store.

Was it… wrong that Atsuya kind of liked that idea? Not the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, fuck no, but… the thought of someone seeing that this was the person he got to go home to every day. The woman he called his own. The woman he got to see like this in the flesh. The woman he got to touch, feel, fuck. He’s always been proud to show you off in his own way, but this was a whole new level.

Atsuya’s really glad he adjusted himself earlier, but fuck if the growing thickness in his slacks wasn’t uncomfortable. And embarrassing.

Glancing down at the photos again, he releases a shuddering breath. The POV of the pictures taken above makes Atsuya feel like he’s there, right above you, hips between your thighs like he fucking should be—not about to pay up on some groceries and go home alone to an empty apartment that still smelled like you.

Another picture comes through, this time of between your thighs, and Atsuya has to suck in his bottom lip to stop from groaning aloud.

Those pretty folds of yours, already glistening with arousal; underwear hanging off the soft thigh of one leg… the sight is fucking sinful. Your middle finger is already buried deep inside you all the way to the knuckle, the rest of your fingers splayed out around.

That fucking shade of pink is staring at him once again, reminding him of your choice, your reasoning, and Atsuya finally gets the prank, the trend, whatever it is. He fucking gets it now.

As his grip on his phone tightens, threatening to bend the already damaged plastic underneath his fingers, another message comes through.

I miss you too, ‘kabe. See how much? Two fingers deep and all I can think about is your cock instead.

Atsuya’s mind spins, clouded with lust and thoughts of you and you only. He feels like he might sway on his feet as the full force of his need and longing seems to hit him square in the chest, sending him dizzy.

Oh, how he missed you. He missed you so fucking much.

He leans up against the shelves, some of the boxes of powdered detergent rustling underneath him, but he pays it little attention. His eyes are locked on those photos, and the reminder that you missed him just as fucking much as he missed you.

Are you hard for me too?

Atsuya’s quick to adjust the basket hanging off of his arm as he brings both hands up to his phone.

u have no fucking ideaur so goddamn sexy you know that??i’m hard as a goddamn rock right now

Show me.

Atsuya’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead in surprise. He glances over his shoulders once more and sees a young couple walk past the aisle and onto the next one, giggling about something.

i canti’m in a storenot in the mood for getting arrested for public indecency

Oh? Opening my nudes out in public? Dirty old man.

Atsuya can’t bring himself to disagree with you, although the use of ‘old’ does sting a little.

Do they have toilets? Go there. I want to see you.

Oh, now you were playing with fire. Opening your messages in public full-well expecting what was in them was reckless enough, but if this was heading where Atsuya thought it was—and it probably was if his resolve was all that was holding him back—then this was downright idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. Gojo-coded.

And yet the sound of his shoes against the tiles rings out across the store anyway as he marches toward the public bathrooms, the half-filled basket abandoned on the floor.

He swings open the door of the male bathrooms a touch more forcefully than necessary, quickly scoping out the space. It’s clean, thankfully, although the scent of bleach and other cleaning chemicals hangs heavy in the air. Hardly the sexiest place, but it’s empty—though that’s always in danger of changing.

Striding past the sinks and urinals, he heads toward one of the stalls, pushing open the door and stepping inside before shutting it once more—and locking it too. He rests his back against the door with a sigh as he swipes open the camera app on his phone.

The fluorescent lighting isn’t the best, but it’s all he has to work with as he takes a slightly shaky picture of the swell in his dark trousers. His cock sits thick and proud against his zipper, the outline of it abundantly clear.

He sends it to you without a message and without a second thought, staring down at the screen intently as he sees those familiar three dots immediately pop up.

Fuck, you really are hard. Just for me?

Atsuya scoffs out loud, though the sound is weaker than usual.

who else???u think I’d send pics like this to anyone else? in a public bathroom??u drive me goddamn crazy

So cute.Take it out. I want to see it properly.

Atsuya freezes for a moment. Although getting your dick out in a public bathroom wasn’t exactly new, this was… different. For him, anyway. Sexting, sending nudes, let alone in a public place… he wasn’t exactly well-versed in this type of thing. It had always seemed a little young for him. None of his previous partners had done anything like this.

But he had no idea whether this was a regular thing with your past partners though…

…and the thought of that alone has his one hand fiddling with this button on his slacks, trying to tug it free of the hole. He just about manages, though his zipper requires a little more finesse, but eventually, that gives too.

He heaves a small sigh of relief as the constriction on his aching cock finally lessens, and inching his trousers and boxers down just enough, he lets it spring free. He shivers slightly as the cool, stagnant air of the bathroom hits his overheated skin, the flushed head (pink, pink, pink) shining up at him.

With a slightly shaking hand, he wraps his free hand around the base of his cock, twitching at the minute stimulation. He snaps another picture and sends it once more.

see what you do to me? god I wish u were herethe things I’d do to you right noweven in this fucking bathroom

Your reply is almost instantaneous.

Touch yourself and tell me.

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. He wonders if that would be too far for him right now considering his environment. He wonders how the hell he’s even meant to type one-handed. He can barely do it with two.

A second later, you’re answering his questions for him as he sees his phone light up in his hand, displaying your caller ID. A picture of you and him on one of your first dates stares back at him, the pair of you smiling together in a dimly lit booth, his arm around your waist, your head on his shoulder. You look so happy to be there. Atsuya still looks faintly surprised you turned up.

It’s one of Atsuya’s favourite photos. His students had teased him for it when he had set it as his lock screen, so he had changed it back to default and set it as your caller ID instead. It’s how they had found out you and him were even a thing. He still remembers feeling smug at his student’s surprised faces… before the questions had started. You and her?! Is she okay in the head or…?

Atsuya stares down at the vibrating phone in his hand, looking at your soft smile staring back at him. It’s a romantic picture. Doesn’t quite fit the vibe of what he’s about to partake in at all.

He answers the call, holding it up to his ear. He’s immediately greeted by your breathy purr, dispelling all doubts or hesitancy like wind on sand.

“Hey, baby,” he hears you say down the line. “You have no idea how fucking wet I am for you right now.”

Atsuya groans, his head hitting the cool door behind him with a dull thunk.

“Fuck, don’t say it like that,” he groans, before wedging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

Atsuya doesn’t doubt your words, because he can fucking hear it. Behind muted moans and breathy sighs, he can hear the sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your heat, the wet squelch so audible it’s lewd. His cock twitches at the sound, and he scrunches his eyes closed.

In his mind's eye, he can almost see himself with you, between your legs, thrusting into you like his life depended on it. Though your fingers are slower than what he’d do if he was there right now, he lines his imagination up with the audio queue you’ve given, and another guttural groan seeps past his bitten lip.

“Come on, baby, talk to me,” he distantly hears you purr into the receiver. “Are you stroking your cock for me? Just like I would?”

Atsuya spits a curse as his free hand curls around his shaft on instinct, giving the base a small squeeze before he drags his hand up to the flushed tip. He repeats the motion a few times, practically milking himself, trying to mimic those irritating fucking teasing motions you always worked him up with.

Not as if he needs much working up though, not now.

“Yeah,” he exhales shakily. “Fuck, ‘s pretty fucking s-sensitive right now.”

He hears a breathy chuckle in response to his words. “Aw, too worked up?”

“Pent-up, more like,” he replies, fighting back another groan as he feels himself leak. He quickly collects it with his fingers, smearing it down his shaft and lubricating the way.

“Been saving yourself for me, ‘suya?”

Atsuya huffs a breath that’s almost like a chuckle. “N-Nah, not really, ngh—“ His hips buck up into his palm as he grazes over the sensitive tip. “Just ‘s not the same without you.”

You coo down the line in response but the sound abruptly cuts off, replaced by a breathy moan instead. Fuck, those were amongst his favourite sounds of yours—almost as much as when you’d moan his—

“Fuck, Atsuya,” you moan, and his cock practically jumps in his fist. He hears the sound of your fingers working faster, and his eyes roll back underneath his closed lids.

He widens his stance and leans back further against the door, his hips jutting outward as he quickens his pace to match yours. He can feel his loosened slacks dropping lower on his thighs with every buck of his hips, his untucked shirt ghosting across his lower abdomen. His mind is trying to scream at him that this isn’t the place to be letting go like this, but it’s been so long without you, without hearing you, without touching you that he feels like God himself could break down the bathroom door and he wouldn’t care. Not while you were moaning his name like that.

“God I miss you so fucking much,” Atsuya groans, his voice thick and choked. He works his fist a little faster over his cock, focusing on the tip mostly—just like you would when you really wanted him to make some noise. “Are you close? God, tell me you’re fucking close.”

The urge to say ‘please’ is on the tip of his tongue but he just about resists for now—but his pride was quickly melting down into pure, unadulterated desperation as he felt his balls draw tighter and his stomach clench harder. He thinks this might be the quickest he’s ever cum.

“Mm, I’m so close,” you reply in a semi-strained whisper. “I’ve been close for days.”

Atsuya’s hand stutters on his cock, his eyes slowly blinking open. “…days?”

There’s a pause before you answer, and he can already picture the way your brow arches pointedly. “You should know me better by now, ‘suya,” you chuckle. “I don’t mind edging myself now and then, especially when I’m away from you. It’ll just make it all the more better when I finally do see you.”

Atsuya’s breathing is still ragged as he stares at the far wall of the toilet stall, his brows pinched in slight confusion. He realises that those wet noises on the other end have stopped too.

“You haven’t… cum since you left?”

“Of course not,” you chuckle. “You think I want to cum around anything other than your cock?”

Goddamn, does Atsuya’s cock throb something fierce at that. His breath hitches in his throat, his eyes widening at the wall. He immediately stops moving his hand, pinching his fingers around the base instead in the hopes of stopping the climax that just snuck up on him like a tornado in the dark.

Your words, fucking hot as they were, put Atsuya in a little predicament though. Whilst he liked (actually loved) the idea that you were waiting just for him… did you… expect the same of him? Was this just all a little fun? Because he was hard as a rock right now, throbbing in his own palm, and all he could think about was how close he was and how this climax was probably going to knock the breath from him. Not the little ports-in-the-storms he’d been having since you had left fifteen days ago.

“Did you stop?”

Atsuya blinks, feeling strangely awkward like some teenage boy on his first date all over again—exactly how he had felt on his first date with you, seeing you all dressed up for the first time, just for him.

He becomes distinctly aware of how loud his breathing is, how it carries against the cold tiles around him. “Yeah… I mean, did you want…”

“Don’t stop,” you say, saving him the agony of asking. “Just because I like edging myself doesn’t mean I expect the same of you.” He hears the rustling of sheets on the other side as you change positions. “Keep going, baby, let me hear how much you want me—and I’ll return the favour and then some when I get back.”

Words fail him for a moment, because all he can think about is how much he wants to kiss you right now, to cover your body, head to toe, in kisses that he hopes portray his gratitude for you better than his words ever could. For once, he wants to leave his cock neglected and bury his face in your cunt until you’re screaming out, clawing at his scalp as he shows you just how much he fucking loves y-

Slowly, his hand starts moving again; slow, languid pumps from base to tip. His eyelids flutter, a half-choked moan pushing out from the bottom of the chest.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles, his words thick and laced with something not even he knows. “You’re so fucking sexy, everything I want.”

“Mm, you’re always so sweet when you get worked up,” you purr into the phone, the words so breathy that Atsuya swears he can feel the heat against his ear. “Keep going. What would you do if I were there, right in front of you? Would I be on my knees?”

Atsuya’s eyes roll as his lids shut, his chin jutting up toward the ceiling as he picks up the pace on his cock. He can picture it so fucking clearly that the stagnant air of the bathroom fades away. The image of you on your knees, looking up at him from underneath those lashes of yours… you’d swipe your tongue over your bottom lip just to tease him, and it’d work every damn time.

He nods his head in eager, stuttered movements, as if you could actually see him. “On your knees, on your back—ngh!—I don’t fucking care,” he groans.

Through his haze of lust, he knows what you’re trying to do, what you always tried to get him to do. Dirty-talk. It wasn’t his forte, you usually took the lead with that (he much preferred actually fucking you rather than talking about it… that and his imagination wasn’t exactly the best), but you seemed to lap up whatever pathetic attempt he usually tried to give you.

Swallowing thickly, he clears his throat once. “Y-you’d be naked, just for me,” he mutters, his eyes fluttering open again as he gains a little confidence. “You’d use your mouth just how I like, y-yeah?” His grip around his shaft tightens, his pace quickening a touch more. His breathing grows ragged, harsh puffs slipping past his bitten lips. “F-fuck, you always look so goddamn sexy when you look up at me with my cock in your mouth.”

A resonant hum greets him in response. “Oh, yeah? What else do you like?”

“The way your tits bounce as I fuck you, s-shit.” Something scarily close to a whimper coils at the back of Atsuya’s throat as he feels himself nearing that precipice again. His thighs tense up and tremble, most of his weight supported by the stall door behind him now. “W-When you, mmf, dig your nails into my b-back like you’re trying to fucking kill me—oh fuck—“

Atsuya’s hand is working almost fervently now, the slick sounds mingling with his harsh breaths and low voice. He’s loud, far too fucking loud for a public bathroom, but he’s so close, so worked up that it barely becomes a concern anymore. If he focuses, he can smell your perfume instead of cleaning chemicals, feel the heat of your body against his instead of the cool door against his back—feel the heat of your pussy hugging his cock so tightly it’s like you’re begging him to fill you up with every stroke—

“I’m close,” he rushes out, his tone almost panicked as he feels the intense prickles working up the base of his spine. His skin feels like it’s burning, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention like there’s a storm coming. He knows this climax is going to be intense—intense in a way that only you can ever work from him, even if you weren’t actually here.

“Waiting for my permission?” you giggle, and Atsuya wants to snap at you but he can’t, not right now because… well, he is. He just wants to hear you say it, that you want it. That you want him.

“F-fuck, don’t joke right now I c-can’t hold i—“

“Cum for me, Atsuya.”

And just like that, Atsuya lurches over the edge so fierce it sucks all the air from his lungs.

A sharp gasp catches in his throat as his cock pulses in his hand, ropes of his essence shooting from the tip so suddenly it makes his back arch. A loud, guttural groan bursts from his lips, his hips stuttering, expression pinched into something almost pained as he cums harder than he can ever remember before. Thick, pearlescent ribbons land across his fingers, shirt and tie, some even hitting his collar too. Pitchy curses leave his lips in a symphony, his vision swimming.

Distantly, over the pounding in his skull and the blood rushing in his ears, he can hear you coo praises down the line as he continues draining himself of every drop he has, stiff grunts accompanying each stroke. His hand only stops when the sensation becomes far too much to bear, and he lets his hand fall from his cock back to his side with a ragged sigh.

His body slumps against the stall door, his eyes hooded as he tries to catch his breath. He can’t even bring himself to look down at the state he’s in, not right now—not while his head was swimming with endorphins and he finally felt sated for once.

Fuck that warm, sunny spot at his desk. That had nothing on this.

“Fuck, I wish I was there to see that,” you finally say after a moment of silence. “Feel good?”

“…you have no idea, babe,” he murmurs, a small, lazy smile tugging at the side of his lips. “God I needed that.”

You chuckle again. “Sounds like it, babe. I’m surprised the whole store didn’t come running to see what that groan was.”

Atsuya can’t help but chuckle in response, though his smile is a touch embarrassed. He makes a mental note that he should probably avoid this store in future. It was going to be awkward enough leaving.

And he still had to get something for dinner. He’d probably order takeout.

Fuck it, it was worth it.

Going to raise a hand to his clammy brow, he swiftly pauses, the sight of his soaked fingers making him curse. His eyes finally flick from his hand to his stained shirt after, the mess causing him to grimace, almost repulsed. “Fuck, it’s everywhere,” he grumbles, wedging his phone in the crook between his ear and shoulder as goes to grab some tissues.

This, of course, makes you practically howl with laughter into the receiver—but Atsuya can’t bring himself to be pissy. Not when he hears you like this, not after you just talked him through an orgasm so explosive his legs are still trembling.

Not while you were… well, you.

As Atsuya does his best to wipe himself down and pull his trousers back up, your laughter eventually dies down. “Now I really wish I had been there to see that… just a pity it wasn’t inside me.”

Atsuya pauses as he curses under his breath, his oversensitive cock twitching in his repsonse. “You and your goddamn mouth,” he mutters, dumping the soiled tissues in the toilet and flushing. “You’re the whole reason I’m in this toilet, you know.”

“Hey, you chose to open those photos in public, perv.”

He doesn’t argue with that. Though he would never admit it aloud, lest he give you the pleasure, he was weak for you. More than even he was aware of–and time away from you was only proving that.

“When are you coming back?”

“Tomorrow morning,” you reply easily, making Atsuya wonder just how the hell you were so relaxed after supposedly edging yourself for days. “The cursed spirit was dead before twelve today. Got my nails done afterwards as a little treat.”

Atsuya shakes his head with a snort as he steps out of the stall finally, making his way over to the sink as he continues to try and fix the damage he caused. He places his phone gently on the counter. “You’re strange, you know that?”

You hum in agreement, and he can already envision the way your lips pull to the side in that little smile he loves so much. “You love it.”

Atsuya washes his hand in the sink, glancing up to catch his reflection in the mirror. His face is still a little flushed, his clothes still dishevelled—he’ll definitely have to throw out his tie probably—but he realises he looks…

…happy.

“Yeah,” Atsuya mumbles, shaking his hands in the sink. “Yeah, I do.”

masterlist.

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk x y/n #atsuya kusakabe x reader #kusakabe x reader #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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valentiyne · 1 year ago

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𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 & 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 ��𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗌 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Famous!Reader Summary: Requested! After 4 years of agreed no contact, one phone call and song takes back all that you've worked for. Warnings: Mild Cursing, Slight of Explicit Content. Word Count: 1k (not rlly proofread lol) Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

"So, Y/n tell us more about Calum Hood"

A name I hadn't heard in exactly 4 years to the very date.

48 months, 1461 days, and 35040 excruciating long fucking hours.

My face immediately lights up at the name nevertheless, brushing my hair behind my ear nervously,

"Hood? I'm not quite sure what this has to do with my upcoming EP coming out at midnight", I breathlessly laugh out, my eyes locking with the interviewer in front of me. My new work titled, "Bittersweet" was launching at midnight, only containing 4 songs to go along with the 4 bittersweet years I've spent away from him. It was hopeless of me to write about him, but he was the only source of inspiration I could find.

"Well you two had a bit of chemistry as far as we know, is that right?"

Sure we did. We spent over 6 years together on and off, but always came back to each other. He was my rock, my everything, but ultimately we knew it wasn't going to work out.

"Sure we did, I mean it was nothing but a mere innocent crush", I cross my legs now, my shaky hands clasped on top of my knees. The crowd was silent as excited fans packed into the small room to hear the soft launch before midnight.

"Well it was surely more than innocent", she motions to the screen next to us. "This picture was taken four years ago in Bali during the second leg of their tour", I mentally roll my eyes but smile anyway. A few people from the crowd squealed as the iconic picture of us in cuddled up on the beach was displayed, the same one he posted himself as an excuse to have me on his page.

"Like I said- It was a small crush" I was trying to convince myself more than everyone else.

I watch as the slideshow continues on, the screen filled with every single moment in time that Calum and I were spotted together across the world. A few innocent ones of us walking next to each other, to one taken on the balcony of a hotel. We were just kids who didn't know what they were doing- lost in the moment together. He will always have a place in my heart. When things ultimately ended, we both agreed to never speak again- it was only weighing each other down.

"Well I thank you for your time, I hope everyone enjoys the album and finds some comfort in the chaos", I stand up abruptly, extending my hand to shake the interviewer's hand. The crowd cheered quietly as I walked off the stage with a slight wave. I needed to get out of here, I felt like a complete idiot working myself up over someone that I no longer talked to.

I slipped past the stage crew as I shuffled out past the backdoors and towards the parking lot, my fingers fumbling with my keys as I tore my driver's door open and plopped down dramatically. The door shut behind me and I sighed to myself loudly,

That was fucking ridiculous, they didn't even ask anything about me. Just about someone I never wanted to mention. Of course, I could talk about him until the end of time, but it wasn't my place to do so anymore. He was playing sold-out shows every other day and had no worry about a girl back home who happened to have matching tattoos with him, right? The tattoo we shared was of a small flower underneath our ribs, the same flower he gave me on our one-year "situationshipversary" as he called it. It was a silly gesture that I treasured, the California wildflower that he pulled over on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway to pick during peak traffic on the way to my house. It now lay inside a small glass bottle hung around my neck, all wilted like our history.

I pull my phone from my purse, scrolling down to the bottom of my contact list, and clicking on the "DO NOT CALL!!!!" number. I hesitantly dial his number and bring it up to my ear,

"Hey! You reached Calum, I'm away from my phone right now but leave a message!", He declined it immediately, either that or his phone was dead. Not quite sure which one makes me feel better. I roll my eyes at the stupid prepubescent voice and turn my phone off.

I tossed my phone down onto my lap and leaned my head against the wheel. I subconsciously wanted to log back into my Instagram and scroll down an update page to find out anything about him. I had no idea what he was up to or who he was with, it's been years since I've last heard his voice.

"You know this isn't good for either of us, Y/n", he rang through my head as I remember standing on his porch in late July.

"Calum, we've been through this so many times- why can't we just try?"

He runs his hand through his freshly cut hair and shakes his head, "It never ends well, I feel like a fucking lost dog who always limps its way back to you.. I just- Fuck- I can't do thi-"

The last thing I remember was the door closing in my face, leaving me all alone with no closure. I could hear him on the other side, a thump on the door indicating he was leaning against it. I tried for the handle, jiggling it a few times before banging on it, begging for him to talk to me. I couldn't stay mad at him forever, as much as I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him, slap him in his beautiful face, and kiss him all at once.

My phone vibrating snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked down,

DO NOT CALL!!!!

My heart skips a beat, staring at my phone on my lap buzzing away. I bit my lip softly, pulling it closer to my face as I accepted the FaceTime call.

The camera was pointing to the ceiling when I answered, his voice booming loudly as he spoke.

"Hello?"

I let let a breath I didn't know I was holding, trying to gather the right words to say. What was I supposed to say after all this time?

"Cal?", my voice is softer than I had hoped for, the word slipping past my lip like it's begging to finally be let out.

"Holy shit", the camera shifts and he props it up against the wall, waving at me with one hand. Calum sits in his studio chair with his old bass in his lap, headphones pushed back against his long curly hair. His eyes are wide as he raises an eyebrow, "Shit, long time no see."

I adjust the camera against my steering wheel and scoot my seat back, allowing for a better view of myself as I smile innocently with an awkward wave. "Hi Cal, how ya been?" I see his eyes travel down to the necklace around my neck, my fingers dancing around the bottle as I speak.

"Shit, Y/n if I'd known it was you calling I would've answered way faster, I just had deleted your number-", he stops himself, looking up with a sympathetic crooked smile before sighing. I raise a hand up to reassure him instead, "Calum", god saying his name tugs at my heartstrings, "It's okay, I get it... we don't have to dance around it.. now what are you up to?"

He was lying, Calum hood was bluffing to my face and I had no idea. After all this time, he still had my contact listed as "My wildflower", but he couldn't dare admit to me that he didn't answer sooner because he was scared.

Scared of what I was going to say

Scared id tell him I found someone new

Scared of seeing or hearing me again

"I'm actually working on a song right now", he laughs and holds the iconic bass up, a small spot right under the strings that once had a star sticker I placed on it- now scraped off.

I make a face, reminding myself that that was the past and I shouldn't dwell on it too much, but seeing him happier without me didn't make me feel like I thought it would. A part of me wished he was as miserable as I was, cooped up in my room writing stupid songs that were confessing my raw feelings.

"What's it about?", I chirp up as he bends down to play a few notes on the keyboard next to him, assuming it's the intro.

"It's about someone that was in my life, uh someone you don't know- she came around afterward", he says slowly, not meeting my eyes through the screen. I just nod in agreement, opening my mouth to speak.

"Would you like to come over for dinner sometime this week?", The words flow out before I had time to think about it. As I wait for his response, I pick at my nails- a habit he absolutely hated. He would smack my hand out of my mouth every chance we were together, telling me "I'd get worms in my belly" I did stop for a while, but my bitten nails were the only reminder he was actually gone.

"Yeah, I would love to!- Look I'll let you go but we'll keep in touch alright?", He speaks quickly, his hand flying down in one swift movement. With that, he ends the FaceTime call and I'm left looking at my reflection. I looked dumbfounded, smiling to myself as wide as I could.

I couldn't let myself fall for this again, for him- we both knew it wasn't going to end well for either of us. But hell it's been 4 years and I've changed as a person, and by the looks of it, he has too.

My phone buzzed once, twice, and then three before I looked back up at it to see three new messages from none other than Hood.

DO NOT CALL!!!!: I kinda lied, you do know the person I wrote it about

DO NOT CALL!!!!: mp3.wildflower.calumdemo.rec

DO NOT CALL!!!!: my wildflower ;)

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maximumzombiecreator · 1 month ago

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I started writing some city information for my rpg and I was wondering, how much is too much in terms of city info when the city is meant to be THE setting for the whole game

Well, Ptolus has 672 pages of city setting and I've heard nothing but good things, so I think we can conclusively say, "at least 673 pages."

More helpfully, I'd say when it comes to settings, there's two factors I'd consider for when information stops being useful. The first is how accessible it is. If a setting is just giving a bit of information, a tone, some vibes, maybe a few key characters and locations, then that information can be formatted in whatever way the writer wants. The GM will be able to hold all of that information in their head at once. The more information there is about a setting, the more accessible that information needs to be. In a big setting, the GM will not be able to memorize everything, so the material needs to be referenced during play. Ptolus is a good example here. As big as it is, it's all formatted into pamphlets, handouts, maps, it's heavily indexed, etc. Tremendous effort has been made to make this huge brick of information usable. So, the more info you have about your city, the more time and energy you'll have to put into making the information accessible.

The second factor is how unique the information is. This is a more general example of the prep rule that you shouldn't prep what you can just improvise at the table. I really dislike when a prewritten setting provides details and those details aren't any more interesting or compelling than what I would make up on the spot. Basically, if I'm going to look up who runs the barber shop, that character had better be worth looking up. But this also intersects with the question of how well the setting establishes its tone. A really evocative setting will help me improvise great NPCs, and thus any NPCs it does include need to be that much more interesting to be worth looking up.

I suppose there's a third factor, too, which is that you do want to leave enough space for a GM to put their own stuff. If you've detailed every single thing, it becomes harder to create a new adventure into the setting.

Overall, though, I'd say that as long as the information you're creating is interesting and accessible, there's never too much of it. It's just a question of how much interesting stuff you can come up with and whether you can win the battle against formatting to make it usable at the table.

#ttrpg #tabletop roleplaying #tabletop gaming #dnd #d&d #ask #advice

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rallamajoop · 2 months ago

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Queer lit of the 1800s: Two gay Victorian vampire stories you've probably never heard of

So, I have this post in the works tackling that all-important question: just why are there so many gay vampire stories? But in writing it, what was supposed to be a brief tangent about a couple of little-known m/m vampire stories from all the way back in the late 1800s era… started expanding into something not-so-brief, as such tangents are prone to do.

But what the hell, the internet tells me it's queer history month: clearly the only solution is to give those stories their own post, where my tangent can spin out as far as it likes!

Now, if you know anything about Victorian vampire literature or the lesbian vampire genre, you’ve probably already heard about Carmilla, by Sheridan le Fanu (1872), the world’s very first (known) lesbian vampire story. To this day, it's easily the second best-known and widely adapted tale in all the Victorian vampire canon (after Dracula, obviously) – and it probably deserves to be too.

But this is not a post about Carmilla, because Carmilla is not the only gay-vampire-story written way back in the Victorian era. It's not even the least subtle gay-vampire-tale.

There are (at least) two others, both featuring male/male vampire/human pairings. And whether or not they ‘deserve’ to be remembered in the same breath as Carmilla, they’re both fascinating works in their own rights: Manor, by Karl Heinrich Ulrichs (1884) – one of the world’s first gay activists – and A True Story of a Vampire, by Count Eric Stenbock (1894).

You can read both online. A True Story of a Vampire is long out of copyright and can be found on Gutenberg (Carmilla is too, if you're interested), and many other places. Manor has been translated into English only much more recently, but you can still get hold of it in pdf form, or buy it in ebook format. But if what you really want are some summaries, and/or whole lot of extra context and analysis to go with the stories themselves, I've got you covered below.

Manor (1884), Sailor Stories, and Karl Heinrich Ulrichs

We’ll start with Manor, since it was published ten years before our other example, and because I’m not quite cruel enough to leave you going "wait, did you really just tell me there was a legit gay activist writing vampire slashfic in his free time way back in the 1880s?" while I ramble on about the other story first. We'll start with the author himself, because his own story is at least as interesting as any fiction he ever published.

Born in Germany in 1825, Karl Heinrich Ulrichs knew from a young age that he was attracted to men. He trained in law, but wisely resigned before he could be fired in 1854 when his proclivities came to the attention of his superiors. Most in his position would've redoubled their efforts to hide; Ulrichs spent the next several years joining societies dedicated to science and literature and developing his own theories about non-hetero orientations, before officially coming out to his family in 1862.

He was just getting started. By 1867, he was ready to come out to the whole world.

Ulrichs is far from the first gay man to recognise his attraction without shame and find society in like-minded individuals ‒ but he may well be the very first to come out voluntarily and publicly, and advocate for the decriminalisation of homosexuality. And when I say "publicly" what I mean of course is, "in a formal address to the Congress of German Jurists." He was shouted down, but it was still a staggering act of bravery for a man of his time. It would still be a staggering act of bravery in many parts of the world today.

Undaunted by his reception, Ulrichs would also publish a dozen booklets advocating for rights for his community between 1864 and 1879, framing their sexuality as natural, inborn and wholly benign. In 1880, after multiple arrests for his political advocacy, he left Germany for self-imposed exile in Italy, where he would remain until his death in 1895. But it's during this period that he published some poetry, as well as Sailor Stories, a collection of four short stories inspired primarily by Norse mythology, including Manor (which we’ll get to, don’t worry).

Though Ulrichs saw little legal success in his lifetime, through modern eyes, his greatest failure might be only that he was so far ahead of his time. When he began writing and advocating, the word 'homosexuality' didn't even exist yet ‒ he himself used the term 'Urnings' for gay men, eventually coining terms for variations like 'Mannling' and 'Weibling' (gay male equivalent of 'butch' and 'femme') as well. He also came to recognise bisexuality, lesbian attraction, and even intersex conditions, theorising that all resulted from some combination of male and female characteristics developing in the same individual, as the available knowledge on embryonic development suggested might be possible. For a guy with only Victorian era science to work from, that's still remarkably close to the modern consensus today.

Nor did Ulrichs' work die with him. His writings would go on to inspire and be republished by gay rights movements that followed him ‒ including the work and advocacy of Magnus Hirschfeld, who created what may be the world's first trans-affirming clinic. Even in his own time, responses from his own readers show much his work meant to them, reassured at last that they weren't alone.

So how does a German activist from the 1880s find himself publishing gay vampire fiction based on Norse mythology while living in exile in Italy? I only wish I knew. My sources suggest his main goal with Sailor Stories was to publish something that would sell. Unsurprisingly, given the subject matter it seems to have sold very little. Manor is the third of four short tales, and by far the gayest of them all. It's also (IMHO) by far the best, and the most interesting.

Set in a Norwegian fishing village, Manor tells the story of the romance between a 15-year-old boy called Har, and the titular Manor, a sailor 4 years his senior, who rescues Har from the wreck which killed his father. In the days that follow, the pair become close, and Manor takes to swimming across the bay on summer evenings to visit Har at his home. And so they meet whenever they can, until tragedy strikes again, and Manor is killed in a shipwreck near the coast, leaving Har inconsolable with grief.

But this being a vampire story, in the nights after Manor’s death, something is seen swimming across the bay to Har’s home, just as Manor used to do. Har is visited night after night by the spectre of his beloved, who lies beside him in bed, strokes his cheek with cold hands, and kisses him with icy lips, draining his blood from his heart, "like an infant at its mother’s breast." Har himself awaits each night with mixed joy and fear, longing to see Manor again, even in such a form.

As Har weakens, the villagers attempt to trap Manor in his grave by hammering a stake through his body, but he continues to visit Har nonetheless, now sporting a gaping wound in his chest. The villagers return with a new stake, widened at the base like a giant nail, and finally, Manor is restrained in his grave. But it’s too late for Har: weakened and heartsick, he dies, begging only that he should be buried beside his beloved at last. Neither rise again.

Though I can’t speak to how it reads in the original German, in translation, Manor is relayed in largely workmanlike prose. Its tale is short, simple, and sad – but so much about it fascinates me all the same.

(Draugen, Theodor Kittelsen, 1891)

There’s the incorporation of elements you might better recognise from Norse draugr folklore – revenants more typically associated with deaths at sea, or charged with guarding their own graves ‒ but still far more closely related to the vampires of Slavic mythology than most people probably realise. Manor is also one of painfully few stories which clearly recognises what is surely the original purpose of hammering a stake through a vampire’s body: not to kill it, but to hold the creature down and prevent it from leaving its grave. As a hopeless vampire-nerd (I've presented panels at conventions about this stuff, it's dangerous to get me started), I can’t tell you how much I love those aspects of this story.

But above all, Ulrichs’ tale captures what might be one of the oldest and most traditional versions of the folkloric vampire: the spectre of a lost loved one, and the potent mixture of fear and twisted longing thus inspired, that the weight of their loss might drag you down into death to join them. Many ‘real’ tales of vampirism have been inspired by outbreaks of wasting diseases like consumption, working their way through a family, one member at a time. But in Har’s case, it is clearly grief as much as Manor’s physical visits that claims him. He loves Manor so much that he welcomes his lover back, even as a revenant. In his own way, Har too is cursed by Manor’s death to wander the world like the walking dead, until finally reunited with his lover once more.

Nowadays, tragic love stories like this tend to get an eye roll from a lot of the queer community. The old ‘bury your gays’ trope has been done to death, and we’re largely sick of being told that noble suffering is the best we can hope for. But it’s notable nonetheless that Manor’s sexuality has no bearing on his death, and little about the story would change were Har female. It's far from clear if the rest of the village even recognises Har and Manor's love for what it is, let alone whether they'd disapprove ‒ after all, vampires will often go after friends and acquaintances when lovers and family members are exhausted. As such, it’s hard to read the village’s attempts to keep Manor in his grave as a simple matter of prejudice. They're also genuinely trying to save Har's life.

And yet, the way Har keeps the undead Manor’s visits a secret, even begging for the stake to be removed so they can resume, echoes the real experiences of so many gay and lesbian couples far too clearly to be accidental. And however disturbing to a contemporary audience, Har’s willingness to follow his lover to the grave leaves little doubt of the depths of his feelings. To an audience in the 1800s, even the most cliched example of bury-your-gays would be revolutionary.

Did I mention that this story fascinates me? There are layers to this thing.

For completeness, I’ve also read the rest of Sailor Stories (and you can too at the same link). Only one of the other three tales contains any queer romance: the first, Sulitelma, where a boy called Erich falls for a handsome sailor called Harald he meets aboard a spectral storm ship. But there's no happy ending: his sister falls for the same handsome sailor, and shoves Erich overboard to his death to eliminate her competition.

Atlantis, the second story in the collection, is a direct sequel to Sulitelma, but it's even more bizarre. Erich is barely mentioned, and instead we find ourselves reading a tale which I can only summarise as like something I might have found on fanfiction.net back in the early aughts, written by some 14yo trying to straightwash the original material. Here, Harald and some of his fellows go on shore leave to the land of the phoenix, populated by Greek nymphs and Cupid, and mildly comedic hijinx ensue. It is fascinatingly bizarre, but not exactly satisfying as a read (or a sequel).

The final story, The Monk of Sumboe, tells of how two close friends destroy their relationship and themselves with their fixation on the tale of an alluring siren. There's a solid concept in there somewhere, but it's far too short and abrupt to do much with it, and all the characters remain strictly heterosexual. But if there's one thematic detail that ties it to the rest of the collection (beside the many Norse elements), it's that hopeless longing for something others would warn you away from ‒ whether that be a phantom ship, a visit from a vampire lover, or an elusive siren. None of these tales end well for their protagonists, but we're drawn to sympathise with them nonetheless.

I cannot guess what reception Karl Ulrichs expected in publishing this book. Sailor Stories is neither a work that could expect good reception from mainstream audiences or a defiantly-radical queer masterpiece. What did people make of it in its own time? Was it read and cherished by at least a few boys or men like Har and Manor? I’d hope so, but I’ll probably never know.

If you'd like to read more about Karl Ulrichs, I can recommend (among my sources) this New York Times article for a quick overview of his work, or the various work of Michael Lombardi-Nash and Hubert Kennedy (link 2). You can also read the first chapter of his published correspondence online for free.

A True Story of a Vampire (1894), and Count Eric Stenbock

Our second Victorian vampire tale was first published in English, though it was written by a Swedish Count. Like Carmilla in its own day (and quite unlike Karl Ulrichs), both story and author seem to have flown largely under the radar until many years after publication, the queer subtext little noted or commented upon (if at all).

If nothing else though, A True Story of a Vampire aptly demonstrates that at least someone of that era spotted what Carmilla was really about – because he wrote his own version, only about men. Stenbock’s tale is effectively a much shorter, gender-swapped version of Carmilla – but with a larger age gap between vampire and victim lending the story uncomfortable pederastic overtones.

"Vampire stories are generally located in Styria; mine is also," it begins – though I couldn’t name you any vampire story from the era besides Carmilla set there. The narrator, the surviving sister of the vampire’s victim, is called ‘Carmela’, if you needed further proof.

Much like in Carmilla herself, the vampire, Count Vardalek (a Slavic term for vampire) arrives at their house after being forced to seek local hospitality when some convenient ‘accident’ interrupts his travels. There, he bewitches and slowly drains the life from her brother, Gabriel – a boy described in terms variously angelic and fey, a wild thing who befriends wild animals and would rather climb a tree to a window than take the stairs to his own room, but who cleans up beautifully for church – a sublime, cinnamon roll of a creature, far too good for this sinful earth, too pure. Gabriel is a true male equivalent of the likes of Dracula’s Lucy, feminised further still by his youth and innocence. Had a vampire not got him, one can only imagine he’d have eventually have been spirited away by the fairies.

Gabriel and the mysterious Count are drawn to one another immediately. Even as Gabriel wastes slowly away, he greets Vardalek eagerly each time he returns by throwing his arms around his neck and kissing him on the lips. Count Vardalek himself seems to be a vampire of the psychic variety, gaining in health and vitality while Gabriel wilts, merely after spending time in one another’s presence. Vardalek himself seems to genuinely regret Gabriel’s inevitable death, but unlike in Carmilla, there’s no rescue at our conclusion. Gabriel dies, and we’re given no reason to assume he’ll rise again.

To the modern reader, the true horror of this tale lies not with the vampires or even the homoeroticism, but with those uncomfortably pederastic implications. Gabriel can’t be more than twelve years old, his youth and innocence emphasised in his every description. Pains are taken to suggest that Gabriel’s own attraction to Vardalek is as much responsible for his fate as the vampire himself. Gabriel’s father is similarly bewitched by this charming stranger, and never recognises the danger, or the reason for his son’s tragic death. Even the narrator, his loving sister, cannot truly hate Vardalek for taking her brother from her – even when her father dies of grief soon after. Gabriel’s fate seems sealed from the moment the Count enters their home.

But knowing how often real child molesters get away with it, their actions excused or downplayed by their family, their victims accused of ‘seducing’ their abusers and made complicit in their own misery… I can only say that, for my money, A True Story of a Vampire is a very effective horror story in ways the author probably never intended, once you start to question the reliability of its narrator.

It won’t surprise you to learn that the author, Count Eric Stanislaus Stenbock, was a (very) gay man, deeply involved with the gothic and decadent artistic movements of his day. Born to a Swedish Count and an English heiress, Stenbock seems to be remembered less for his writing than for his character. In The Oxford Book of Modern Verse, 1892-1935, W.B. Yeats describes him as a "scholar, connoisseur, drunkard, poet, pervert, most charming of men" ‒ naming Stenbock as an exemplar of the poetic zeitgeist of the age. Notably however, none of Stenbock’s actual poetry is featured in the volume.

Stories about Stenbock are so bizarre that it’s hard to know how much should be believed. Eric Stenbock supposedly travelled with a multitude of exotic pets and a life-sized doll he referred to as his 'son', dabbled in religions ranging from Roman Catholicism to Buddhism, and decorated his dwelling with peacock feathers, oriental shawls, a bronze statue of Eros and a hanging pentagram. One acquaintance once compared him to a 'magnified child': "very fair hair beautifully curled, and a blond, round, blue-eyed face," who paused at the door and "took a little phial out of his pocket, from which he anointed his fingers, before passing them through his locks." But by his thirties, he was already dying of liver disease after years of alcoholism. He passed away at only 35.

Stenbock’s surviving artistic legacy consists of three volumes of poetry and one of prose, with some of those poems including explicit references to Ganymede or male lovers. So how did he escape the same controversy that dogged similar works by other queer creatives of his day, like Oscar Wilde or Walt Whitman – let alone Karl Ulrichs? Well, simple: his work never attracted enough attention to generate real controversy. Stenbock may have been just as much a character as figures like Wilde, but he hadn't nearly the same talent or success.

One last minor biographic detail that may be worthy of note (discovered courtesy of some very poor-quality scans of his one proper biography) is that the youthful Gabriel of A True Story of a Vampire may owe his name to a real Gabriele ‒ a female cousin ten years Stenbock’s junior, whom he would've spent time with in his teens, and seems to have been especially fond of. Whatever the true significance of that name, he'd use it more than once in his fiction: another short story, The Other Side: A Breton Legend, also stars an angelic little boy called Gabriel, with a similar dangerous attraction to the strange. It features some lovely mood and imagery as it sets the scene, but (perhaps as a result of the lack of a suitable model story like Carmilla) it is, in my opinion, a much weaker story overall.

But again, the most disturbing aspect of Stenbock's biography are the hints about his own relationships with much younger men. His second book of poetry, Myrtle, Rue and Cypress, is dedicated to three people: Simeon Solomon (a gay painter of the pre-Raphaelite movement, whom he met at Oxford), Arvid Stenbock, Eric's cousin, and to "the memory of Charles Fowler" ‒ the son of a Clergyman, who died of consumption at only 16.

This enigmatic dedication is all we know about Stenbock's relationship with Fowler. We don't even know how the they met (Fowler seems to have had a relative at Oxford at the same time as Stenbock, but even this is speculation). But that dedication, in a book which will go on to feature poems about the beauty of Ganymede, or explicitly addressed 'To A Boy' (Tis ever a delight, dear, To gaze upon thy face, To love the life within thee, Fair fashioned, full of grace) makes it hard to read Stenbock's feelings as remotely platonic.

It doesn’t help that the same volume includes a poem about an actual vampire, published ten years before A True Story of a Vampire would ever be penned, but with very comparable subject matter:

With slow soft sensual sips Draw the life from the tender spray, And brush from thy soft lithe lips The bloom of thy boyhood away

It's worth keeping in mind that Stenbock himself would've been only 21 at the time of Fowler's death, and that we don't know whether he ever acted on his attraction (whatever form it may have taken). He may well, as I've seen suggested, have kept his admiration private, idealising the image of the beautiful, dying boy in his final days, in that classic Victorian-gothic way. But it doesn't help that Stenbock's cousin Arvid, from that other dedication in the same book, was 8 years his junior, and that their family apparently disapproved of their relationship as "unnaturally close." Or that another famous Stenbock-associate was Norman O'Neil, a composer whom he met on a London omnibus in 1891, when O'Neil too was only 16. Stenbock was apparently taken by his intelligence and beauty, and would go on to leave him a considerable sum of money in his will. By 1891, Stenbock would've been 31, but his fixations hadn't aged with him.

So how are we to take all this? This was an age where a marriage between a 16-year-old girl and a suitor of Stenbock's age would scarcely have raised eyebrows. Uncomfortable as it may sound today, for many queer youths of the era, a romance with someone older and experienced enough to play mentor may genuinely have represented the safest real option available. There are layers of complicated subtext, meanwhile, in the idea of any gay man of the Victorian era casting himself as a vampiric monster, doomed to ruin the object of their attraction with their very touch. There may be layers more in Stenbock framing his tale as "A true story" before telling us of the misery a foreign Count brought to an innocent family, with his helpless fixation on their youngest child.

It's worth noting also that even in Manor, by Legit Gay Activist Karl Ulrichs, our love story is between a boy of 15 and a man of 19 ‒ an age gap of only 4 years, but large enough at 15 to raise some serious eyebrows. His first story too, Sulitelma, involves attraction between a man and a boy (exact ages unknown). Though Ulrichs explicitly viewed relationships with prepubescent children as reprehensible, he seems to have had no problem with relationships between young teens and much older adults ‒ even printing a story sent in by a reader (details in this article), joyfully recounting how he (the reader) was initiated into the world of male/male love as a 14-year-old by his brother's riding master. Ulrichs saw no reason to disapprove.

To confuse things for anyone looking this up today, google Ulrichs, and you'll find a number of online articles claiming that his own first experience involved being sexually assaulted by a riding instructor when he was only 14. This is wrong on multiple fronts: not only is the story related by Ulrichs as a positive experience, it wasn't even Ulrichs it happened to. No, shit like this would not be okay if it happened today (and frequently wasn't then), but we don't help ourselves by distorting the stories told by our queer forebears to fit modern expectations.

But none of that surrounding context makes the youth of the day any less vulnerable to predation, or Stenbock's fixation on youthful beauty less creepy. Today, no evidence remains to help us guess whether idealising the beauty and innocence of youth was the greatest of Stenbock's actual crimes, or the least of them. Anything is possible.

In brief: welcome to the joy of trying to reconcile the complicated place of pederasty in queer history! I'm afraid you can look forward to seeing a lot of it from here on back.

A True Story of a Vampire is not a bad work of fiction by any means. There are some lovely descriptions and entertaining turns of phrase, and the horror is certainly effective. It may even be considerably more readable than Carmilla to many, simply for being so much shorter. But how you feel about it is really going to be up to you.

One last digression about Carmilla and Christabel

There’s one additional work that I’ve once or twice seen listed as an even earlier queer vampire tale: Samuel Coleridge’s unfinished poem Christabel (1800) – the only problem being there’s no vampire in the story (and how queer it is may be questionable too).

Like Carmilla, Christabel tells of a Baron’s daughter (the titular Christabel) who comes upon a mysterious stranger in apparent distress (Geraldine) and invites her into her home. We never learn what kind of being Geraldine truly is (three further parts were planned in addition to the two that were completed), but when she undresses, Christabel spies something that horrifies her, remembering it later with the words "Again she saw that bosom old / Again she felt that bosom cold." But under Geraldine’s spell, Christabel’s recollection of this incident comes and goes, and Geraldine has soon bewitched her father too.

All ‘evidence’ that Geraldine was intended to be a vampire rests on such details as Geraldine having to be carried past an iron gate into the house, much as vampires have to be invited in – but that particular vampire trope wasn’t actually codified until a solid century later (like most vampire-tropes, we have Stoker's Dracula to blame). The idea that Geraldine has the cold, shrivelled body of the undead and revives herself on Christabel’s blood is a perfectly valid reading, but the more obvious interpretation would be that she’s some manner of shapeshifting fairy creature, weakened by the iron of the gateway, not the entrance to Christabel’s home. The aristocratic literary vampire had existed for over 40 years and appeared in numerous works of fiction by Carmilla's day; but Christabel predates the origins of the genre a solid two decades. For Coleridge to have come up with the idea independently seems vanishingly unlikely.

I mention Christabel here partly for completeness, but mostly to bring us back around to the greater family of Carmilla, which is still legitimately the first known queer vampire story. Though far better known than any other story discussed here today, how it came about is perhaps the most mysterious.

Sheridan le Fanu was a prolific writer, but I don’t know of any other story he’s penned with subtext like Carmilla's (and I’m not quite invested enough to read all of the rest to check, though someone totally should so I don't have to). Le Fanu was married, and had children, and that's all I can discover about his personal life. Was he some shade of queer himself? Did he have connections to anyone who was? Did he even realise what he was writing with Carmilla? Nothing I’ve read about him provides any answers. Nor can I tell you how many readers spotted the subtext it the story was first published. In its own time, it caused no great scandal, nor even seems to have garnered much attention (by contrast, Byron & Polidori's The Vampyre caused an uproar when it was published in 1819, mostly thanks to Byron's established fame and debates over its true authorship). It took until well into the 20th Century for it to obtain the reputation it has today.

But I’m sure it’s no coincidence that it was Carmilla that spoke to Stenbock enough that he chose to retell it. And while A True Story of a Vampire is still the only other vampire story of the era set in Styria, there was almost another one: Dracula, at least Stoker’s early plans for the novel. Styria also remains part of the unused prequel chapter later published as Dracula’s Guest. The setting isn’t the only detail Stoker nearly-borrowed from Carmilla either, my favourite example being the weird schedule by which both she and Dracula seem to have to be in bed in their coffins at dawn each day, both apparently helpless and immobile in sleep, though both are also repeatedly seen up and about later in the day. Neither tale offers any real explanation.

Have I mentioned lately that Stoker, too, was almost certainly some shade of gay?

Now, the fact that two different queer writers both found Carmilla so very inspiring – and would even both publish their own works of vampire literature within five years of one another – isn’t much to go on, in trying to establish what a story like Carmilla might’ve meant to England’s queer population some twenty years after it was written. Maybe Carmilla was being eagerly passed around London’s own Uranian gothic societies at the time. Or maybe two different men happened upon it by chance in wholly different circumstances, and took very different things from reading it. Maybe Stoker didn’t even notice the queer subtext himself. But I can’t help but wonder if just maybe, there's something more than coincidence at work here.

Carmilla the vampire is an explicitly villainous character, her victim confused and unwilling. But she remains one of the most complex and sympathetic vampires of her era. And perhaps, to a community who had never seen Ulrichs’ writing published in their own language, and might never see themselves represented in fiction except as monsters buried in layers of protective subtext, that still meant something to readers like Stenbock, and Stocker, and who knows how many others.

In short, maybe old, gay vampire stories like these really are worth remembering. I'll leave that one up to you.

#queer history #vampires #Dracula #Manor #Karl Heinrich Ulrichs #A True Story of a Vampire #Count Eric Stenbock #Carmilla #gay vampire stuff

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