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lvnatiq · 3 years

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Random Relationship Headcanons | Felix Escellun x gn!reader

a/n: Hey ! On todays menu I am serving you modern au relationship headcanons. I know for a fact that I can’t write headcanons AT ALL yet here we are, out of spite I will keep trying until I can manage to write good shit. I’m going through a chaotic time in my life so please be patient with me 😭

I’m currently working on tattoo artist! reader x Felix headcanons and college!enemies to lovers one-shot. Knowing that Felix’s fav trope is enemies to lovers, I will post it hopefully before his new chapter drops. I used most of the hcs that were sent to me but if you couldn’t see yours, then it will probably be used on the other works.

No beta we die like men.

warnings: curse words, nsfw under the cut, random sage moments, felix being a ‘the neighborhood’ song basically.

You persuade him to start an Instagram account, and because of his family's popularity, he quickly gains followers. His account is practically empty because he would rather spend his time stalking your account on Instagram. You noticed the emptiness and wanted to take him out and take some photos for his account, which turned out amazingly. He is a little camera shy, so be patient with him.

You like to watch him apply his eyeliner but he finds it so stressing to do under your gaze. He used to be able to do it easily, but it has now become one of his most difficult tasks. You wanted to ask for his assistance in applying eyeliner to you in the hopes of making it simpler for him; he agreed but quickly regretted it when he realized how near your faces would be. You with your eyes closed, waiting for him to drag the line as he was only thinking about how bad he wanted to kiss you.

Felix has a Polaroid of you and stella in his wallet I said what I said.

When it comes to himself, he can be a pessimist, but when it comes to you, he is the most loving and positive boyfriend you could ever ask for. You have a dream ? He is ready to help you achieve it. Do you want to change in your life ? Go for it, He’s more excited than you are.

He can be quite insecure at times when it comes to your relationship because he feels like you deserve the world but the world is too big for his tiny hands. Will his cuddles be enough ? God he hopes so.

He almost cried when you told him you loved him for the first time. He's also baffled as to how you might feel the same way about him.

Drunk Felix is really clingy and honest. Whatever he can’t say sober drunk felix can and definitely will.

“May the stars let my death be between your glorious thighs amen-“ “Felix-”

Felix is weird but it add to his charm. It’s not unusual for you to wake up in the middle of the night and find the pillow besides yours empty. In the dead of night, you will find Felix munching on some weird ass food combinations.

He also has a habit of doing things that are extremely adorable without even noticing it. Like walking around the house in his oversized shirts, his hand clutching at the cuffs whilst the other one sheepishly rubs his eye.

“Can I lay on your lap ? I promise I won’t fall asleep. I just need to rest for a little.” His voice is so soft and hushed. “Of course, come here.” He throws himself onto you as he comes hopping on his tip toes.

He falls asleep on his desk too often, so you have to carry him back to his room, where he snuggles against you while you lead him there. Once he's in his room, he insists that you stay with him, so you wait until he falls asleep as you play with his hair, and he wakes up thinking it was all a dream.

I firmly believe that Felix’s love language is acts of service. Like making you coffee and bringing you random snacks as you work or wrapping you up in fluffy blankets whenever he catches you slacking on the couch.

He's been romanticizing anything and everything since he met you. When he sees beautiful flowers, he wants to bring them to you, but he also believes that their beauty stems from the fact that they are alive, so he argues and stresses a lot when deciding what to do in simple situations like these.

His edginess belongs to his impulsiveness and his style only at any other situation he's a complete softboy.

And I'm certain he knows a variety of card tricks. He enjoys showing off, and he enjoys it even more when you become fascinated and beg him to share the trick.

If you're a morning person, you'll probably spend your mornings alone in solitude, finishing work before the day begins, but if you're a night owl, you and Felix will go out for night walks and Felix would go out for night walks, sharing headphones to play some music, enjoy each others presence and develop a habit of watching the sunrise together.

Felix makes you playlists at the most random times and with the most random names. Until one day he sent you a playlist at around 4 a.m called “you”, filled with his favorite music. He usually sees music as a safe space for himself and now that you are his safe place too it’s only appropriate for him to do so. This only further proves how he spends his time thinking about you.

I feel like Felix would have what most would call "attachment issues" but it’s mainly because of his protective tendencies. This is not to say that he’s this "overly jealous toxic" character; rather, he has never had anyone to truly call his own in his entire life so he would do anything to protect it.

Felix is also big on astrology, so if you want the perfect birth chart, he'll give it to you. Also he owns a lovely deck of tarot cards, and if you ask him for a love reading, he can't manage to keep his words and feelings to himself so he modifies your reading according to him and his desires. Let the boy abuse his powers for the sake of love.

His style could be described as dark academia, his wardrobe mainly consists of dark colors, lots and lots of blazers and a lot of oversized shirts. He also loves jewelry so he owns a lot of rings and chains. Just so you know, if you're wearing any of his rings, his heart is doing cartwheels.

Is it obvious that he loves it when you place your hand in his and play with his rings with your fingertips.

Spoil him. Buy him that baby blue hoodie with cat ears.

“Ah, you look adorable.” “Isn’t it a bit too b-big ?” “You could say that. Do you mind ?” “No, I like it that way.” “I would know.” You smirk followed by felix’s gasp. “If you so desperately wanted a cat boy you know you have me right ?” Nudging your shoulder, Sage leapt into the conversation. “What is he talking about ?” Felix grumbled, only to notice two fuzzy triangular fabrics on top of his head as he brushed his fingertips over it.

He’s obsessed with your hands, kissing your knuckles, drawing circles in your palm. At a certain point it became an involuntary gesture he does it quite often without realizing.

He’s also canonically extremely blushy but he would never admit it. You’re convinced he uses some sort of make up because it is not possible for the pink dusting his cheeks to look this good.

He insists that you’re cold even in the warmest weathers because he wants to see you in his coat.

Sage forces Felix to take his thirst trap Tiktoks.

He really appreciates it when you add to his herbal tea collection without him noticing and he considers it a sign of affection because he takes his tea very seriously.

He loses it when you call him baby he gets flustered and frustrated but it’s all because it rolls off of your tongue so nicely that he can’t get enough of it.

Felix owns a broad collection of scented lip balms some of them are tinted. You didn’t hear this from me.

He never once took anything the Sage says seriously until he saw how well you two got along. He never thought that he would be standing there taking relationship and flirting advice from the frat boy.

Felix is a complete asshole when he wants to. He’s very verbal about it too. Consistent sarcastic remarks and eye rolls. I mean it runs in his blood, look at Escell.

You love it when he suddenly whips out the confident Felix, it’s not a daily occurrence you know.

When Felix is concentrated, he’s lost and there’s almost no way you or anything else can distract him. So it’s time to grab some colorful hair clips and ties to fuck around with his hair.

Felix is not the best at verbally expressing his gratitude towards you. He doesn’t know what he would do if you weren’t there for him at the lowest points of his life where normally he would close himself and bare the weight of his family problems and personal life issues that he can’t seem to get out of. Now he has you, someone who’s willing to listen to him and offer him a warm embrace when he needs the most.

While you to play games together, when he wins he wears that iconic shit eating grin of his with pride looking at you through the corner of his eye. “Shit, what do you want me to say to that felix ? Perhaps I should call you master now that you won ‘one’ fucking round.” He is praying that the screen light is covering the fact that he is a blushy mess after hearing you say that.

NSFW

I cannot stress this enough but he is extremely vocal in bed. Whining, trying to restrict himself from making too much noise but failing miserably.

Muffled pants, choked sobs and lots of pleasure infused tears.

He loves getting praised during sex but what he loves more is to get praised after it’s all over. Like you telling him how great he was, how well he behaved, how good he made you feel. He experiences sub drops a lot so please assure him that he did well :(

He’s into power-play but not in a submissive or dominant kind of relationship, it’s more of a psychological thing where the fact that he can see how good he makes you feel gives him a rush of confidence and adrenaline.

I believe that this motherfucker is a masochist, pain makes him more excited than getting an update on his favorite author who went on a year long hiatus and that is saying a lot.

Bite him. Scratch him. It is so stimulating for him he can reach his high just from those actions.

Fuck do anything to his ears bite, lick, pull, blow on it. He is extremely sensitive so anything you do will basically drive him out of his mind. It will most definitely lead to him trembling beneath your fingertips.

You must think that you are the only one who is such a tease but you’re wrong. Felix teases you quite often mostly to direct your attention towards him or to keep your attention on him. He’s quite greedy when it comes to you and your hands on his body. Unbuttoning unnecessary amount of buttons on his shirt to show a little skin that he knows you’ll notice. Playing with his necklace placing the chain between his lips dragging it towards the inside of his bottom lip teasing the metallic charm with the tip of his tongue. He definitely ain’t oblivious he knows exactly what he’s doing and he makes sure that you know exactly what he’s doing.

When he’s in the mood he will tug the hem of your top meanwhile his eyes are glued to the floor or graze the temples of his glasses between his lips, his teeth lightly nibbling the pointy edge. He loves to play dumb too. When you question him, he acts like he doesn’t intend anything and that you need to get your head out of the gutter.

At the end of the session Felix looks divine. Drool leaking down from his bottom lip to his jaw line towards his neck, his bangs sticking on his sweat coated forehead, his chest rising up and down quickly. His eyes rolled at the back of his head, his hands still clutching tightly to the sheets. Faint whimpers and deep breaths filling the air.

Leading up to the after care, his shy self returns. He buries his face to your chest hiding his blushy cheeks beneath the palms of his hands.

He likes to experiment a lot and you are his favorite subject.

It shouldn’t be surprising to find random kink definitions or role-play ideas on the search history of your laptop. After all Felix just asked for it to write an email, that’s all there is to it. That’s until you offer to try them out.

He doesn’t act upon his jealousy, what he does instead is that leaving marks on you especially around your neck and your chest where he knows it will show. Don’t cover them up if you don’t wanna deal with him.

“People just don’t appreciate art anymore.” “Felix these are, hickeys.” “Oh so now you are judging my art medium ?” “Since when proving Sage that I got railed by you is a form of art ?”

I didn’t see anyone point this out but whenever he is in the sub space he tends to be more on the bratty side. He starts of shy but his confidence builds up as the tension rises. Meaning that you should be ready to get your patience tested.

When you two are in separate places your suggestive words and tone leads up to phone sex, which Felix secretly fantasized about a lot. What made everything even more dirty was the fact that you didn’t know that he was laying on your bed surrounded by your scent and humping your pillow. Once you come back home you are greeted with a fresh pair of sheets on your bed. Apparently Felix decided to do you a favor and clean your room as well as the the whole house. He’s crossing fingers that you don’t notice because he knows that he’ll never hear the end of it.

Felix knows a lot about sex but his knowledge is based upon fiction rather than experience. So, naturally, he is more interested about learning specifically how your body responds to certain actions, what you enjoy and what you’re interested in so teach him. He’s a good student and oh well he’s a quick learner.

Pull his hair pull his hair put his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair pull his hair.

When he settles between your legs as he ties his hair, he places the hairband between his lips and looks up at you with half lidded eyes. It’s his definition of torture.

Even though he doesn’t give off that vibe, he is very freaky if you would’ve known what his AO3 tags consisted of you would agree.

Tag list is open

#felix escellun #felix #fictif felix #last legacy #fictif #fictif last legacy #nyx hydra #felix escellun x reader #felix x reader #mc #felix fictif

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enchantedblackrose · 3 years

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All the Pieces Pt 2

Sirius Black/Fem Reader

Warnings: light swearing, kinda long, unedited. I broke canon and will probably continue to do so in other parts now?

Part 1|| Part 3|| Part 4|| Part 5

Part 2 of ?

No more secrets from you I would lose to love you And I have never felt so Like a man that's been set free I can spread my arms now - Pieces, Dan Powell

Your questions wait longer still as you watch Sirius step hesitantly into your living room. It's not completely conscious, but you can't stop looking at him. He's so skinny and looks defeated, but then that fresh morning sunlight dances across his face. For a second you see glimpses of the boy you knew years ago.

Sirius clears his throat. The sudden noise startles you and you nearly jump.

"Shower!" You yell, though you're not sure why it comes out as a shouted demand.

"'m sorry, what?"

"I mean, you must want a hot shower?"

Disbelief creeps onto his face. "I would love a hot shower so don't take this wrong, but you must have a hundred questions for me?"

"A thousand actually," you smile, "but they can wait."

Your compassion causes a warmth to fill Sirius that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your presence. He nods his gratitude, not trusting himself to speak.

You direct him to the top of the stairs and inform him of the fresh towels in the linen closet and the second bedroom he may use. Before he closes the bathroom door, you tell him you'll see if you can scrounge up any other clothes for him.

"And then if you want," you say, "we can set those damned robes on fire." Sirius laughs as you walk away.

Never being one able to throw anything away, you know for certain you have some old clothing belonging to Sirius. Not trusting the old rickety steps of the pull down ladder, you apparate to the attic.

"Lumos." The tip of your wand illuminates enough of the storage space that you easily find the light fixture and gently pull on the chain. You put out your wand.

Immediately you spot the desired trunk and the sight of it causes you to draw a sharp breath. Your habit of saving everything while at times like this is beneficial, it often brings you some pain. You sit in front of the trunk, opening it slowly.

Photos and a small midnight blue velvet jewelry box sit on the very top. You pick them up and hesitate before setting them aside.

Next you pull out a large leather jacket, followed by men's pants, several shirts, including tees with the face of David Bowie, another with the Stones, and even one with ABBA. You throw your head back in laughter; you really do keep anything and everything, but this is why. Even these mundane items hold precious memories.

You set the clothes beside you and thumb through the photos: Sirius kissing you on the cheek, Sirius kissing James on the cheek, you and a very pregnant Lily at her baby shower, you and Remus laughing with a pink haired, confused Sirius in the background, Peter attempting to rollerblade, Sirius in his dog form, the marauders near the Whomping Willow at school, you and Sirius slow dancing at James and Lily's wedding. You sigh before gently placing them back in the trunk. You pick up the little box, the delicate fabric still plush and smooth in your hand. But you decide to return it to the trunk without opening it.

Sirius should be getting out of the shower soon and you want the clothes ready for him when he is. You turn off the light before disapparating to the guest bedroom. The clothes were well preserved and a few incantations later they are freshly laundered. You leave them at the end of the bed.

You retreat to the kitchen to prepare brunch. The food is mostly done when from above you hear the water stop, squeaks of doors opening and shutting, the creaking of floorboards and then Sirius barking a hearty laugh. You smile to yourself.

"You always were a pack rat," he says, appearing after a minute. You see he opted not to wear any of the muggle musician shirts, but instead he's in a solid black t-shirt and dark jeans. Both hang loosely on his thin frame. You say nothing about his playful quip, mostly because it's true. You indicate for him to sit in one of the wooden kitchen chairs. "That said where's your engagement ring?"

Your heart sinks as you think to that blue box upstairs.

"Sirius," you warn, your voice low.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't fair. Though you not wearing it was the second thing I noticed about you." He offers a smile, but you don't relent, refusing to dive into this conversation when there's still so many answers he owes. Seeing your hardened expression, he holds his hands up signaling he still means no offense.

You sigh. "What was the first thing?"

His grin widens into a full smile. "Your eyes of course. They're just as I remember. Beautiful, full of goodness and emotions. I could always tell what you were feeling."

Despite yourself, you feel heat rise to your cheeks, blushing over Sirius Black's words like you were still a schoolgirl. It's mortifying to adult you and you take a large sip of orange juice to avoid eye contact.

Sirius smirks slightly, but begins to eat. The array of food mimics a small buffet: chocolate chip muffins, pancakes, bacon, toast, oatmeal and scrambled eggs. A glass pitcher with orange juice sits beside jams and butter.

Sirius takes more than a bit of everything. A mostly comfortable silence falls over the table as two of you eat. Even when you have finished, you refuse to bombard Sirius with questions, allowing him to enjoy the meal.

Finally, getting his fill, he peers at you across the table. It's finally time for you to learn the truth.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," you reply without missing a beat. And so Sirius starts with Peter's betrayal ("literal filthy rat! How could he?" you cry) and ends with knocking at your door.

Your eyebrows furrow. Sirius told you his story and you're still left with questions.

"What's on your mind?" He asks knowingly.

"How did you know where I was? Remus stays here once in a while, did you know that? What's Harry like? Merlin, Peter escaped? He's out there free and you're...do you think he knows where You Know Who is?" You rapid fire questions without thought or pause, but Sirius chuckles.

"I can only answer one at a time, darling. Slow down. Breathe, maybe. I'll answer them all." He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly. "Dumbledore came to that tower where I was held and told me, in his way, that I may have a friend here. That he would send an owl to that friend explaining my innocence. Remus and I had little chance to chat dealing with that treacherous rat, and Snape," he sneers "and the full moon, of course. But I am glad to know you and Remus maintained your friendship," he pauses as if wanting to say more, but thinks better of it.

Both a sad and happy smile plays on his lips as he answers your next question. "Harry is a carbon copy of James, with the same knack for trouble, though he has Lily's eyes. I'm hoping he has her common sense, too. He's got a good head on his shoulders and the right sorts of friends surround him." Sirius's expression goes dark. "Peter will go wherever he thinks he'll be protected. Voldemort is out there, and I'm willing to bet Peter will do anything to get to him."

Another silence falls over the two of you and you shudder at the prospect of Voldemort returning.

"I'm sorry if I asked too many questions," you finally say after a long moment.

"You didn't."

"You're welcome to stay here. For as long as you need."

"I'd like to. I'm not sure how long, but a couple nights at least if it's no trouble."

"It's no trouble. Er, does your hippogriff need anything?"

"Buckbeak? Nah. There's plenty for him to hunt and he's free to roam a bit, right? I'll introduce you two later."

You laugh. "I'll show you to your room. You must be exhausted."

He catches your wrist before you walk away. His touch makes you feel as though you're on fire. You ignore the sensation and look Sirius in the eye as he speaks. "Thank you. Your kindness is truly unmatched, y/n. Always has been." You don't know how to respond. As if on cue, he yawns and then frowns. "I haven't asked anything about you."

"There will be time for that later. C'mon." You smile reassuringly but mentally you're thankful to prolong any more heavy conversations.

Sirius follows you up the stairs into the bedroom. Your eyes scan the room and you frown. The pale green wallpaper accented with tiny pink rosebuds and the bed donned with oversized blankets and half a dozen throw pillows is a stark contrast to Sirius. You mumble something about not being able to redecorate this room just yet. But Sirius just smiles. You draw the curtains shut in an attempt to block the midday sunlight.

"I think you should have everything you need? Of course help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I'll head to town to get some things."

His face is solemn. "Y/n, stay with me?" He clears his throat. "I mean...will you. Please?"

Wordlessly you nod. You let him climb into the queen sized bed first. Once he's settled, you get in, laying next to him. He moves you closer. Your head rests on his shoulder. He breathes in your scent as his arms wrap loosely around you. You drape an arm across his chest, assuring him his touch is welcomed. His grip tightens slightly as his breathing slows. You watch the rising and fall of his chest until your eyelids flutter shut.

Light tapping on your front door pulls you out of your dreams. Confusion hits first as you're heavy with the weight of a man's arms around you. Sirius. You smile as you become more awake, remembering the moments just hours ago. The knocking grows louder. Urgent, even. Panic sets in.

You shake Sirius awake. He bolts upright in bed, his breathing labored. You place a hand on his chest to calm him. For the moment at least. "Someone's at the door." You tell him in a harsh whisper . Sirius's eyes widen. "Transform," you urge. "And for Merlin's sake stay here." He wants to argue, but knows you're right. You wait until he becomes a large black furry mass of a dog. You close the bedroom door behind you, earning a low whine from Sirius in the process. You hurry down the stairs, clutching your wand in your dominant hand. Fear courses through your veins. You feel your heartbeat quicken with each step.

Drawing a deep breath, you swing the front door open. The sight nearly stops your heart.

"Finally y/n. Is he here?"

Taglist: @oingo233

#sirius black x reader #sirius x you #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfic #adult sirius #sirius x reader

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nordleuchten · 3 years

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are there any sources that say how lafayette reacted to the death of washington and his other friends from america??

Hello Anon,

yes, we do know La Fayette’s reaction - pretty exactly actually. George Washington died on December 14, 1799 and La Fayette wrote to Washington’s widow, Martha Washington, on February 28, 1800. The letter is today hold by the Digital Collection from The Washington Library.

Dearest Madam

My Heart Has for So Long a time and So throughly Been known to You, that I Need Not, Nor indeed Could I Express the feelings Which Over Whelm it—While the world is Mourning, and Mankind weeping Over the irreparable Loss, What Must it Be to You, My dear Madam, the object of His Love, the Companion of His Life, the partner of His Sentiments, the Happy witness to All His private and public virtues? What Must it Be to me, Who from My Youth Have Been Blessed with His paternal Adoption, and Who Ever Have deserved it By the Most filial Affection for Him and for You, Who United in Every thing were particularly So in Your kindness to me? - Continue, I beseech you, to Honour me with this Maternal Predilection, the more necessary to me, as in you, dearest Madam, I Both Love and Revere What Remains of My Respected and Beloved General - My Mind is so wed to introduce Him in every thought, every Sentiment, every Concern of Mine that I Hardly Can Believe that, While I am Living, He Has left us, Nor Could I forgive Myself No to Have personally received His Last Blessing. Had I Not the Remembrance of the Advice By Which You know He Has Repeatedly differed My Departure for America - the Circumstances are Coming on Which Had appeared to Him to proper- for Our Meeting - But Alas, in this World We Can No More Meet! I would think it for me a Sacred and Staeing[sic] Duty to Go Over and Mingle My Tears With Yours, Had I not Lately Reentered My Native Country Where, although I Live in perfect Retirement, and With not Have Any thing to do With public affairs, I am Bound to forward the Business of My friends, Several of Whom, Who followed me in 1792, are to the paine[sic] of Being Restored to their Homes and families - I owe it also to My Creditors and Children to pick up the Remains of My fortune - My Son, not Less a partaker in My Grief than in My Obligations and Gratitude, Has the Honour to write to you, and would Have Gone to Mount Vernon, Had Not the Continuation of the War engaged Him in the Military Senite where He expects to Be Soon employed - But we Both Live in the Hope to present You Again, dearest Madam, the personal Homage of our Respectful Love; and everlasting Regrets Shall ever Make us worthy of the parental affection which from the Greatest and Best of Men, which from You, Dear Madam, we Both Had the Happiness to experience - My Wife, With a Mourning, affectionate Heart, joins in My Sentiments, and as well as the Rest of My family Beg to Be More Respectfully, tenderly Remembered to You - Be pleased to let me Hear from You as often as You Can - permit me to Hold with You the Correspondence I Had with My Beloved General and think often of that adoptive Son of His who with dutiful Respect, and warm, Grateful, filial affection Has the Honour to be

dear Madam

Your obedient Servant and friend

Lafayette

Martha Washington replied to La Fayette on October 31, 1800:

Mount Vernon October 31st 1800

Dear Sir

It was not until very lately that your sympathetic and affectionate letter of the 18th of febary reached my hands - The feeling manner in which you have expressed your sense of the loss which I have sustained demands my greatful acknowledgement. The tribute of respectful veneration which has been every where paid to the memory of my dear deceased Husband, and the tender sympathy which my friends have expressed for the irreparable loss, excites my warmest sensibility, -- But my consolation arises only from that source of infinite wisdom and good help which alone can mitigate our grief and lessen the poignancy of the keenest affliction -- To his will do I resign my self for the few remaining days of my life - Knowing the strong ties by which you were bound to my departed Friend I can readily conceive of your feeling upon hearing of his decease, and I am sure it was not among the least of the manifold afflictions which you have of late years undergone.

To the amiable partner of your heart and the rest of your deserving family I pray you to have my sincear and greatful thanks for their tender sympathy; and be isured that you have my ernest prayers that your and their future years may be freed from that cloud of suffering in which you have been so long involved -, and that every blessing which heaven has in store for the virtuous may be showered upon you,- should you or they visit this country - I need not say how happy I should be to see you under my roof - and it will always afford me the highest satisfaction to hear of your welfare

The kind letter from your son came in closed in yours, for which I pray you to return him my best thanks and issure him that his friends hear hold him in affectionate rememberance and sincerely wish that his career in life may be glorious and happy - with esteem and regard

Im dear sir your friend and obedient(?) servant.

Martha Washington

There is something special about this letter. Martha received at least 55 letters of condolences that we know of, more than 40 of the people who wrote her received a reply - but most of these replies were not written by her but by others, Tobias Lear for example, in her name. La Fayette’s was one of fife identified persons who received a reply written by herself. Martha also send La Fayette two pistols, that Washington bequeathed to the Marquis in his will. Washington wrote in his will:

“To General de la Fayette I give a pair of finely wrought steel Pistols, taken from the enemy in the Revolutionary War.”

La Fayette’s son, Georges Washington de La Fayette, also wrote Martha. He enclosed his letters in the letter written by his father. Beside these letters, there is also an earlier account that illustrates La Fayette’s thoughts about Washington’s demise. Shortly before La Fayette sailed for France in 1784 after his third visit to the United States, Washington wrote him the following on December 8, 1784:

“In the moment of our separation upon the road as I travelled, & every hour since—I felt all that love, respect & attachment for you, with which length of years, close connexion & your merits, have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our Carriages distended, whether that was the last sight, I ever should have of you? And tho’ I wished to say no—my fears answered yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, & found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill, I had been 52 years climbing—& that tho’ I was blessed with a good constitution, I was of a short lived family—and might soon expect to be entombed in the dreary mansions of my father’s—These things darkened the shades & gave a gloom to the picture, consequently to my prospects of seeing you again: but I will not repine—I have had my day.”

To that La Fayette replied on December 21, 1784:

“I Have Received Your Affectionate letter Of the 8th inst., and from the known Sentiments of My Heart to You, You will Easely guess what My feelings Have Been in perusing the tender Expressions of Your friendship—No, my Beloved General, our late parting was Not By Any Means a last interview—My whole Soul Revolts at the idea—and Could I Harbour it an instant, indeed, my dear General, it would make me Miserable (…)”

On February 8, 1800, France held an official funeral service for George Washington. Everybody expected La Fayette to give a eulogy to Washington but that did not happen. More so, La Fayette was explicitly excluded from the funeral. Why? Because Napoléon Bonaparte, who had just risen to power, did not felt like it and because he was a bit petty.

As with regard to his other friends in America, there is not as much documentation that I know of. Washington wrote to La Fayette on October 20, 1782 that John Laurens had died.

“Poor Laurens is no more—He fell in a trifling skirmish in South Carolina, attempting to prevent the Enemy from plundering the Country of Rice (…)”

I am sure La Fayette was saddened by his friends death, but I have never seen him mentioning it. Moving on to Hamilton, who died on July 12, 1804, La Fayette wrote Thomas Jefferson on October 8, 1804 that:

“The Deplorable fate of My friend Hamilton Has deeply Afflicted me—I am Sure that whatever Have Been the differences of parties, you Have Ever Been Sensible of His Merits, and Now feel for His Loss.”

He further wrote to George Washington Parke Custis after Hamilton’s death that:

“Hamilton was to me, my dear Sir, more than friend, he was a brother. We were both very young, when associated with our common father; our friendship, formed in days of peril and glory, suffered no diminution from time: with Tilghman and with Laurens, I was upon terms the most affectionate; but with Hamilton, my relations were brotherly.”

Another close friend of La Fayette, Thomas Jefferson, died on July 4, 1826 and La Fayette discussed his death in a letter to James Monroe on November 28, 1826. I sadly have no full access to this letter so I can only tell you that Jefferson’s death was discussed in the letter, but not what La Fayette actually wrote.

I hope you have/had an awesome day!

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joachimnapoleon · 3 years

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@histoireettralala asked me to make a post regarding the friendship between Murat & Fouché. I can't promise this is going to be super thorough, but I'll give it a go.

To start off with, there really aren't a whole lot of details to be found regarding their relationship. The (very incomplete) picture of it I currently have, is from piecing together what I've been able to find so far of their existing published correspondence (which is very sparse), and some bits and pieces from various other sources. There are some views on Murat offered in Fouché's memoirs, but they may or may not be Fouché's own; according to Archive.org, the memoirs were apparently not written by Fouché himself, but by one Alphonse de Beauchamp--though Beauchamp did use Fouché's notes and papers. Murat, of course, left no memoirs himself, ghostwritten or otherwise.

I can't be sure when the two men first met, but it seems to have been at some point in the early 1800s that they became friendly, particularly after Murat was made governor of Paris in 1804 and they found themselves working together more frequently. It might seem surprising, given the vast differences in their personalities, that they got on as well as they did. But they also shared some key similarities in their backgrounds--both were born to bourgeois families, educated in seminaries, and became ardent revolutionaries.

They were also both very doting fathers, and I feel like this is probably something they both bonded over. Fouché had lost three young children in the mid 1790s, and this had caused him much suffering. When another one of his children died in the summer of 1805, he wrote a letter to Murat on 5 July, telling him:

My soul is oppressed with sorrow, I have just lost one of my children. This event is tearing my heart apart. Take care of the health of yours. The loss of a child hurts so much!

When Fouché stayed in Naples in 1813, his children became the playmates of the Murat children. From Louise Murat's memoirs:

Received by the King and Queen in total intimacy, invited into the small apartments, I remember having often dined there with him and his children, with whom we had become well acquainted. It is, I believe, to the noisy games which followed those meals that I owe the vivid memory I’ve kept of the Fouché family.

Louise also left a footnote on the relationship between Fouché and her father, which I forgot to include in the post linked above:

If Thiers and a few other historians are to be believed, Fouché made no secret of his friendship for Murat, which more than once aroused, and in particular in 1809, the Emperor's jealous discontent.

(The 1809 reference alluding of course to the Fouché/Talleyrand discussion about potentially having Murat succeed Napoleon in the event that he died without a legitimate son, which permanently altered the relationship between Napoleon and Murat for the worse.)

The remaining letters between them are few and far in between, but a few little excerpts provide some insights into their relationship (these are all from Fouché to Murat):

[16 August 1805] Your Highness was missing yesterday at the ball at the Hotel de Ville. However, a magnificent sword of precious workmanship was to be presented to him. Our most beautiful ladies were counting on your hand to dance. (...) P.S. I saw with great satisfaction that Princess Caroline's health had enabled her to be taken in a canoe and to traverse the entire rear of the line of battle, at a time when the combat was most animated.

[23 August 1805] I undertook to fulfill the mission that Your Highness entrusted to me. I presented your compliments to Mme R... She gave me in response the letter that I have the honor to send you.

[18 September 1805] I was pleased to learn that your health has not suffered from the rapidity of your courses. (...) Although I regret no longer seeing you in Paris, I cannot help congratulating you on being with the Emperor when he is about to expose himself to new dangers. However, I prefer to see him fight the Austrians than the English, because I have the confidence that in the continental war which is about to rekindle, there are only laurels to harvest. I beg Your Highness to believe that my feelings for you will never grow cold in separation, that I will maintain a respectful and deep attachment to you all my life. Have no doubts about the satisfaction I will have in learning from you the first victories of the Grande Armée.

From the 1805 campaign on, they were rarely within each other's orbit. Between administering his new Grandy Duchy of Berg and taking part in three wars between 1805-1807, Murat was only sporadically in Paris. He spent most of the first half of 1808 in Spain, most of the second half in Naples; from the time of taking the Neapolitan throne on he made only a handful of trips to Paris (and after Fouché lost his ministry in 1810, it was some time before Fouché was there again anyway).

I'm not sure if they saw each other again between 1810 and late 1813, when Napoleon sent Fouché to Naples to try to urge Murat to stay the course and remain loyal to the Emperor. What seems to have happened instead, is that Fouché went through the motions of fulfilling this mission, but privately ended up advising Murat to accept the Austrian terms in order to save his throne.

In the aftermath of Waterloo, Murat found himself in dire straits in France, to which he had fled after his own failed campaign against the Austrians in Italy. A bounty was put on him by the Marquis de Rivière (whose life Murat had helped save years earlier), and Murat was forced to hide out in the countryside until he ultimately found the means to flee to Corsica for refuge. Behind the scenes, Fouché was working--at odds with the new régime he was serving and with whom he was trying to ingratiate himself, it should be pointed out--to save Murat, by procuring for him passports and an offer of asylum from Austria, where he would be able to join his wife and children in exile.

We know how Murat's story ends. But Caroline did not forget the efforts Fouché had taken to save her husband, and years later--shortly before the death of Fouché--she wrote him the following letter:

20 August 1820

Monsieur Duke, for a long time I have wanted to express to you my gratitude for the good you tried to do for him whom we will mourn unceasingly. I and my children have not been unaware, that if it had depended on you, misfortune would not have overwhelmed us. Trust that we will keep the remembrance of it continuously, and that it will be sweet to us in whatever position fate places us, to remind ourselves of your generous conduct towards the King.

I am very happy that the departure of M. Gayl offers me the occasion to express to you the sentiments of attachment that unite me and my children to you and yours. I keep myself regularly informed of everything that concerns you.

I know that your wife is charming, that your children have justified all your hopes, that, in short, you are happy through your family. Remember me to your sons and your daughter; tell them that my children cannot forget the few happy moments they spent together.

I cannot give up seeing you again, and I hope to be able one day to assure you in person, that my gratitude and my attachment will never end.

-Caroline

So, that is pretty much all I have regarding the Murat/Fouché relationship. I wish there was more available, but enough remains that I do feel comfortable in believing that they did strike up a genuine friendship; Fouché is one of those figures whose reputation is so sinister that people tend to believe him incapable of any kind of warmth and natural human emotion whatsoever, but I think there's enough evidence here to show otherwise, and I believe he did acquire a certain amount of attachment to Murat. He had no reason whatsoever to try to help Murat in 1815 at a time when he was still trying to win over the new regime; if anything his efforts probably imperiled that effort. Murat had nothing to offer Fouché, nearly all of his assets had been lost when his kingdom was retaken by the Bourbons; Fouché's efforts to save him and reunite him with his family were, in my opinion, totally selfless, and borne out of his true friendship for Murat.

#Joachim Murat #Joseph Fouché #Caroline Murat #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Louise Murat #memoirs #letters #19th century #asks

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animeyanderelover · 4 years

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Hi I really loved your "yandere Juuzou with ghoul reader" text so can I ask yan Tooru with ghoul reader? That would be very intresting.

I feel like the situation for them would be very interesting since he’s part of the CCG.

Tw: Yandere themes, obsession, unstable mentality, vicious behavior, violence, threatening, killing

Ghoul darling

🟢Tooru met you most likely whilst on a mission with the CCG, probably on the auction where he had to work as a spy to infiltrate the whole place. Tooru was at that time pretty nervous, standing in front of so many ghouls who all started wanting to buy them after it was revealed that they were a one-eyed ghoul.

🟢After the whole massacre had broken out, Tooru had been forced to fight, feeling anxious and scared, insecure about their skills since they hadn’t even been able to activate their Kagune at that time. And they had to fight quite some ghouls in there, partially being all on their own. And that’s when they met you, their savor.

🟢They had been cornered by a ghoul who had proven to be stronger than expected, having forced them in a corner and leading them to trip, leaving them in a vulnerable positions, having lost their knifes in the process. They honestly thought it would be the end of them, the ghoul already making themself ready to finally finish them off after finding out that Tooru was part of the CCG, explaining that they would kill and then eat them, their Kagune snapping towards them. And in the next moment blood was splattering around, splashing onto Tooru’s face and staining his clothes. And for a short moment Tooru thought that this was the end for them, thinking that they would now die. But that’s when they realized that they didn’t feel any pain, that in fact it wasn’t even their blood. It was the blood of the ghoul, their head having been chopped off.

🟢And as the corpse fell down, forming a pool of blood, Tooru was at first top shocked to do anything, staring with wide eyes at the corpse before slowly letting their eyes travel upwards, being met with the stoic yet slightly worried expression of a ghoul, standing right over him with their Kagune still visible, dripping from all the blood. And for a short moment Tooru thought that you had only killed the other ghoul to eat them yourself, crawling on his four limbs scared back when you stepped closer, but frowned slightly when you suddenly deactivated your Kagune, instead bending down a bit and offering them your hand. At first Tooru just stared shocked at your hand, too dense to understand what you wanted. And even if they did, they were still warily of you. What if this was just a trap?

🟢But the moment you suddenly told him in an almost jokingly tone that you wouldn’t bite, looking like you were about to return your hand, Tooru just quickly grabbed it, more out of reflexes since he didn’t want to be impolite. You helped him getting up on his feet, asking if he was okay to which Tooru could only stutter a yes out, too flustered to do anything else. Was this really happening? Was a ghoul helping them?

🟢You were really kind for someone who openly admitted to them that they would kill them or other investigators, emphasizing that it would be out of self-defense, picking their knifes up and giving it to them, telling them that they would need those, even explaining to them in which direction they had to go if they wanted to meet their friends again. A short wave and a “Take care!”, then you left them completely speechless there, quickly making your way out of the building to save your own butt.

🟢This short moment, this encounter was all that Tooru needed to form an obsession with you. They never told others about you, scared that they would hear the scoldings of the others that they couldn’t trust you and that you were a ghoul which they should have killed. They didn’t want to get their illusions about you destroyed. They were wrong! You were different! You had saved them instead of using the chance to kill them, even having helped them to find the way to their comrades. You had to be better, cut above the rest! They owed you their freaking life!

🟢Tooru wanted to meet you again, to ask you why you hadn’t killed them, hoping that your answer would confirm their delusions. That you weren’t as bloodthirsty and messy as others. They started digging up as much informations as they could about you, finding out that you weren’t in any records, meaning that you weren’t a big number which led to a huge relief from their side. For two reasons. The first one was that this meant no one knew about you so far, Tooru hoping that it would remain this way for forever. The second reason was that this was an enhancement to their delusions. They knew that you were different! You weren’t even known by the CCG yet, meaning that you weren’t as tasteless or unnecessarily cruel like some other big numbers in the records of the CCG!

🟢They did about everything to find you, trailing often through the streets of Tokyo in hopes of magically bumping into you, all whilst never telling anyone about you. And the more time passed by, the more desperate they got with their actions, going even as far as starting to search for other ghouls to question them about you in hopes that they knew you. Whilst also being ready to threaten them, Tooru knew that it would be better to distinguish themself as a ghoul, using the mask made from Uta to mix themself under the ghouls.

🟢But in the end it was the complete other way around than planned even though Tooru couldn’t really complain. You ended up finding him, a few ghouls telling you that recently a strange fellow had started searching for you. Whilst you at first didn’t know who they were talking about, after they had tried to describe that person as good as possible you had a very clear image in your head about who it could be, leading you to searching for Tooru and one day suddenly confronting him on the streets of Tokyo.

🟢A short walk through a park to get a bit more isolation was made, Tooru at first non believing that after so many weeks of searching you were finally here again. And you were a bit amused by all of this, obviously noticing how flustered and nervous they were. It had been a while since someone seemed that way around you. But you hadn’t only searched for them to have a nice talk. You wanted to know why this investigator here had searched for you, going as far as pretending to be a ghoul.

🟢There had wanted to show their gratitude, obviously, you had saved them. And whilst Tooru had of course wanted to see you again, they also had a couple of questions for you. Why had you saved them? You were a ghoul weren’t you? This question surprised you a bit, not knowing really why you had done it either. You guessed...you had just a feeling that their time hadn’t come yet. They seemed to have potential and it would be a waste to let someone die who hadn’t even reached their full potential yet.

🟢The situation was rather interesting, you having never heard, seen or witnessed a CCG investigator before thanking a ghoul for saving their life. And you knew that this should be kept a secret for safety reasons because if the wrong people would find out about this, either you or him would get in bad trouble. In the worst case scenario both of you, but luckily Tooru ensured that they hadn’t told anyone yet. And both of you agreed to keep it that way.

🟢That should have been the end of the story, it should have. But it turned out to only be the beginning, Tooru suddenly asking if you two could see each other again. And that surprised you. Weren’t they a ghoul investigator? They knew that they would get in really big troubles if someone would find out, right? Or did they not care at all? Wow, they had more bones than originally thought.

🟢Tooru wouldn’t kidnap you or lock you away, knowing that they have no right to do so. I imagine it to be really hard for them to meet up with you constantly, needing to be careful with their every movement so no one will catch them. If someone finds out they wouldn’t care that much what will await them, but the moment someone finds out and wants to either kill or catch you in hopes to get some informations, that would be the moment Tooru would start acting. What other choice would they have, meaning a triggered switch to their crazy fellow side. They wouldn’t want this to happen though, so being warily of every step they take should hopefully prevent them from needing to kill someone.

🟢But you yourself would have to do a few things to next to not telling anyone about this. Tooru wouldn’t request much, only that you try to not kill any investigators and be careful with hunting food down. They can’t say that they’re necessarily the most happiest with you killing humans, but on the other hand they know you need food in order to survive and have the strength to defend yourself if needed.

🟢I feel like you two most likely revealed your relationship after Kaneki was trapped in the dragon (this huge tentacle thing known as the dragon). Let’s just imagine that instead of Tooru someone else cornered Touka and threatened to kill her, leading Kaneki to his transformation. Because then ghouls and humans worked for the first time ever together and whilst you two were probably a bit unsure about finally opening up, some people started suspecting naturally that you two knew each other. And when you two were confronted about this, you by your ghoul friends and Yooru by his co-workers, both of you decided to make it public.

🟢Let’s just say the CCG wasn’t exactly happy with this, knowing that Tooru had been secretly having a relationship with a ghoul for this whole time whilst his friends and your friends were kind of buffled, but some were also happy, taking this as a good sign that the CCG and ghouls could live in peace together, your relationship being the living proof of that.

🟢Even if there would have been a few voices who demanded you two to break up or wanting to punish Tooru for what they’ve done, I imagine the most people being supportive of this or accepting this as long as nothing bad would happen. Tooru’s friends (Urie and Saiko) would most likely want to get to know you better whilst your friends would like to get to know Tooru better.

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere tooru mutsuki #yandere tooru

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lady-charinette · 5 years

Text

Tamaki Amajiki x F!GirlfriendReader - Tamaki working out and getting a late night visitor.

Rated: NSFW

Warning: Mild dirty talk, public sex, cock riding, sex after workout. (I'm an embarrassing beginner at writing smut so...the cringe!)

Not in the Gym

Tamaki Amajiki was one of the Big Three at U.A.

Studious, punctual and with a mastery over his quirk that was on par with a pro's.

Tamaki Amajiki was one of the Big Three and yet he was also the possibly shiest individual at U.A. trying to back out of interviews and press conferences that made him stand out too much as much as his work - or Fatgum - allowed.

That was more of his mentor's thing, Fatgum had always handled the publicity and interviews and questions, even Kirishima from time to time, but Tamaki simply couldn't.

Nevertheless, the possibly shiest individual at U.A. also had a girlfriend.

That had come as a shock to his peers and the younger students. To Mirio and Nejire, it had only been a matter of time. They'd had known for a while the shift in atmosphere between the two of them, whenever his adorable girlfriend would walk next to him and offer silent support during one of Tamaki's staring contests with the wall around crowds.

During or after lengthy, taxing battles. She was there, ready to lend support, to help and protect him.

Lately, villains had started biding their time, their appearances rarer and rarer except for the small fry that tried to survive still scuffling through the streets. Still, schoolwork increased and Tamaki didn't have as much time to commit to training.

Despite his shy demeanor and general usage of his quirk, there was an astounding amount of people that thought him to be weak.

No, not in quirk.

In physical strength.

While his quirk didn't rely as much on strength like Mirio's for prolonged fights or agility like Nejire's, Tamaki still had to train.

It was a thing he'd picked up from Eraser, someone who possesses a quirk with too many cons, should have a trick up his sleeve.

Tamaki's was weekly visits to the gym.

At night.

He was thankful he could use the U.A. gym when either all the students were in their dorms or already asleep, principal Nezu had been understanding enough to offer him a special permit and Tamaki had sent a gift basket in gratitude, too shy to actually confront the small rodent principal himself despite his size.

The weights seemed heavier than they used to the last time he was here, which had been...a while.

It didn't help that his hero agency largely consisted of individuals who loved to consume as much food as possible, it also didn't help he needed to eat large quantities of food himself to utilize his quirk effectively.

It also didn't help his girlfriend being a food lover too, cooking any time she had the chance or buying sweets at a candy shop. Tamaki loved her sweet tooth, while it wasn't quite practical for his quirk, he enjoyed to indulge from time to time.

The question his girlfriend mostly asked was 'Can your arms turn into lollipops? Or your hair?'

Nejire, his far too curious and open-minded friend, had directed the innocent questions into dangerous territory.

'Huh? His arms? Don't you wanna know if he can turn other body parts into a lollipop-' thankfully, Mirio had mercifully dragged the babbling girl away, just to save a very red faced Tamaki the humiliation.

Unfortunately, his girlfriend was perceptive and had figured out very quickly what Nejire had tried to insinuate.

The reaction had been as mortified as his own, if only because they were in public. He wasn't quite sure what her reaction would've been in the privacy of their own home.

Tamaki tried to ignore the burning tips of his ears to the burning in his arms, trying to lift the heavy metal weights above his head.

He could just use his tentacles, but it wouldn't be very effective, especially the small plate of takoyaki he'd ate for dinner. Not that that was the whole reason he was in here in the first place, he needed to build up strength in his own body, not his quirk.

Tamaki panted, gritting his teeth at the strain before he dropped the weights carefully to the mat and moving over to the next equipment, the running track.

Twenty minutes in and his legs were already burning, screaming to stop, but he stubbornly pushed forward, eyes fixated on a point in the wall.

He hadn't even heard the double doors opening or closing.

He hadn't heard the footsteps that slowly padded towards him.

But he did hear the soft voice calling out to him. "Tamaki~"

The clumsy jump and the higher pitched yelp he released echoed within the vacant room as he fell on his butt, hissing at the burning in his muscles "Ow!"

Tiredly, Tamaki glanced up at none other than his girlfriend, an apologetic expression on her face as she quickly kneeled next to him on the floor. "Oh my goodness, Tama, I-I'm so sorry!" her hands squeezed his arms and grabbed his face, thumbs rubbing his cheeks gently.

His cheeks burned, they were already red with extortion from training, but now a different kind of heat filled his cheeks at his girlfriend's soft touch and nice smell he recognized was from her shampoo. She must've showered earlier.

"Y-You scared me, Y/N." he breathed deeply, chest heaving before he shook his head and gently squeezed her hands on his face. "I-I'm fine." she nodded, still with a apologetic look.

"I should've called earlier, I'm sorry. I got worried when you didn't come home yet. Eraser said you'd be here."

Of course, Eraserhead was still awake, that man loved sleep but he was on watch duty for the first years as much as he heard. Some outdoor scuffle or other between two students of class 1-A.

A brief glance at the clock told him it was late, eleven p.m.

He got off the floor with the help of the woman already dressed in her cute PJ's. "I-I'm sorry, I should've told you I'd be late."

It had been almost two years since them sharing living quarters together, it had been nerve wracking for the both of them, especially when they started sharing a single bed too.

That had only been a year ago, but it had surprised Tamaki how astonishingly easy it was to be beside her on the soft bed, talking to each-other until they were too tired to continue or cuddling each-other into sleep.

She shook her head, flashing a brilliant smile at him. "It's alright." she glanced at the sweater he'd shed while working out, becoming far too hot in it. "You did mention you'd work out with Mirio though." She turned her head this way and that but failed to spy their other friend.

Tamaki rubbed the back of his neck, sitting down on a bench and gulping down a generous amount of water. "He...he couldn't come, he had a mission with his agency, something about patrol duty."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself and shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Tamaki watched her from the corner of his eye, recognizing her fidgeting.

Nervousness.

"Is...is something wrong?" worry rooted itself deep in his heart and the hero in training waited with baited breath for his girlfriend's answer.

She bit her lip, like she always did when she was worried but didn't want to say it. "Y/N?"

At her boyfriend's prompting, she finally relented. "Um...I was...I uh-" she rarely ever got tongue tied around him, only when people made crude jokes when they were both present, but her behavior now seemed odd.

Tamaki stood up on wobbly legs, placing his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them gently, reassuringly. "You can tell me, you know. Just like you said I can tell you anything."

At that, she seemed to relax, shoulders sagging in defeat, before her gaze met his. "I'm sorry I know you have to train and that ever since work with Fatgum increased and you guys have been on edge because of suspicious villain activity that you just couldn't....really come home as often or have free time and I completely understand if you-" she continued on, lost in her speedy mess of words as she often did whenever she was nervous.

Tamaki adored that aspect of her, they were both shy people, him more so than her, but she was nervous in different ways that channeled his confidence to come out to reassure her.

He cut her off with a tight hug, chin resting on top of her head and arms holding gently onto her waist and upper back. "T-Tama?"

The woman in his arms relaxed into his hold, but he sensed the confusion rolling off her in waves. Tamaki sighed deeply, nuzzling his head against hers. "So that's what you were worried about..." he mumbled into her hair, closing his eyes to inhale the mild shampoo. "I'm sorry for...for making you feel this way, Y/N. I-I should've paid more attention to you and-"

She suddenly broke free of his hug, hands splayed over his chest, a weak glare on her face. "No! No, no, no! I'm fine Tamaki, I just- ugh I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to make you feel guilty, I was just..." she sighed helplessly.

Tamaki shook his head, leaning forward to gently kiss her forehead. "Nonsense. I think I know what you wanted to say...trust me, I've been feeling the same. " he awkwardly gazed off to the side. "Um...I was...I wanted to spend more time with you, but I-I also didn't want to let Fatgum and Kirishima down and classes started p-piling up and..." he finally lifted his intense gaze back down to her and smiled wirly. "I'm sorry Y/N."

His girlfriend sighed but smiled warmly, shaking her head. "I'm sorry too Tama." she leaned forward and nuzzled her nose against his, making him smile at the cute gesture.

The couple stared at each-other for a while longer, until Tamaki's eyes strayed to her lips.

He swallowed, a brilliant blush moving from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His girlfriend immediately noticed the shifting air between them and giggled, a blush of her own on her cheeks. "Y-You...you know if you want to kiss me just do it..." when his head whipped to her at the speed of light, he felt her lips meet his in a light sweet kiss.

A sigh of contentment left both their lips and he felt her arms loop around his neck, playing with his sweat soaked hair. Tamaki's own grip tightened around her back, drawing her closer to him.

He broke the kiss when he felt her hands slowly glide down his shirt. "W-Wait." she froze, eyes wide in fear of doing something wrong. His larger hands squeezed hers gently to calm her down. "I-I didn't shower."

Her boyfriend's embarrassed mumbles prompted a laugh out of her throat, before her gaze turned half-lidded and she looked him from the top of his head to the bottom of his toes. Tamaki only blushed harder at her open ogling, trying to hide himself with his hair, until a gentle hand brushed it back. "I don't mind at all, Tama, besides you... kind of look even hotter after training."

His entire face could've exploded like one of Bakugou's explosions right then and there, but his girlfriend silenced his nervous sputters with a deeper kiss.

Despite his heart racing a mile a minute, Tamaki's hands easily found his girlfriend's hips and pulled her tightly to himself, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat when she bucked her hips against his suggestively.

Wait...

Tamaki panted against her lips, dark eyes drinking in her form hungrily. "Th-The door..."

The mischievous twinkle in her eye made him feel mildly nervous. "Locked." she captured his lips in a searing kiss again, mumbling between kisses. "Thought....you wanted....some privacy."

The hero was too worked up to properly think if his girlfriend had somehow planned this, or simply cared for his desire for privacy.

He staggered back, his legs still burning from training and his girlfriend broke their heated lip lock to smirk up at him with a fierce blush. "Trained too hard?" far too flustered for words, Tamaki only nodded. "...Hmm..." she looked around curiously, a small giggle leaving her lips. "What about..." her eyes lightened up with joy when spying the weight machine with the seat, immediately backing her staggering boyfriend onto the bench with the weights attached to cables behind him.

His eyes flew open once he was seated, a question burning on the tip of his tongue before his girlfriend suddenly sat right on top of him, her legs spread on either side of his hips and directly over his-

"W-W-Wh-!" Tamaki felt lightheaded at the blood rushing through his body, obviously not being able to decide whether to travel south or all up to his head. "A-Are you sure?! Ww-we have a bed and- and-"

The positively excited look she shot him made something else on his body react in excitement and Tamaki hid his face. "C'mon Tama! We never tried it outside before! Besides, everyone's asleep, Eraser's too busy babysitting the first years to care to check on us." she winked, eyes back to mentally undressing him before she actually did.

His whole body shook in embarrassment, embarrassed at his own increasing excitement at the prospect of doing something so intimate outside of the safety of their bedroom.

It seemed like the woman stop him noticed it too, if the sudden jump her hips made and the cherry red color of her face was any indication. "W-Wow, I-I didn't know you'd be this excited Tamaki." her surprised but delighted gaze met the hands of her boyfriend desperately trying to hide his expression.

She laughed and pried his hands away, settling them on her hips instead. His eyes refused to look at her, fixated on a point to the side. "Tama~" she called his name in a sing-song voice, fingers gently poking his cheek. "Aw, Tamaki, I'm happy you're reacting this way! You know how happy I always get when you want me too!" Her hips experimentally bucked against the prominent hardness beneath her, her insides clenching pleasantly at the constant pressure on her clothed core.

He took a shaky breath, eyes closing briefly before his purple eyes suddenly stared straight at her.

Intense.

She gently slapped his shoulder. "S-Stop trying to imagine me with a potato head!"

She knew all of her boyfriend's "embarrassment-evading" tactics.

She normally found them adorable, but with her sitting on his cock, craving for her hero really didn't fit in this situation-

"I-I'm not imagining you as a potato..." her eyes flew open when she felt his hands gently begin to rub her hips, her fingers squeezing his shoulders reflexively at the intimate touch.

"W-Wha-" her voice died down when her boyfriend suddenly righted himself, still sitting on the bench but looking down at her intensely, lips trembling just the tiniest bit.

"I-I imagined you in your underwear but-but that didn't really help..." if the throbbing beneath her was any indication, it helped in a different way.

The woman froze on his lap, flabbergasted at the dirty confession that slipped from her shy boyfriend's mouth. "Y-Y/N?" At his confused mumble, she came back to her senses.

She slapped her hands to her red face, turning her head away from the intense stare of her boyfriend. "T-Tamaki! Y-You-you can't just s-say stuff like that and-and oh!" she gasped at the sudden strong grip on her thighs, positioning her higher on his lap, his clothed cock brushing against her clit.

She jumped, legs squeezing his hips and he groaned, looking as red as a lobster. "W-Was that too-" his voice got muffled by her insistent kiss and Tamaki relaxed into it immediately, arms snaking around her body and pulling her closer, lips meshing together in a needy kiss.

His girlfriend's pants and wet tongue tracting his lips never failed to elicit a shiver that ran down the whole length of his spine.

Once his tongue shyly met hers, she moaned into their kiss, fingers gripping his sweaty hair and digging into his scalp.

They broke apart for air, thin strands of drool still connecting them, until Y/N licked her lips. "C-Clothes. Off." her fingers already traced down his chest and stomach to lift his shirt up.

Tamaki released a growl, the sound sending shivers down her spine. She loved her shy and sweet boyfriend, but she also loved the more daring side of him when she was able to make him completely relax and feel comfortable.

His hands slowly slid her shirt off her, her undershirt coming off with it. He licked his lips at the sight of her bra clad breasts, heaving with her pants, her own eyes feasting upon his abs.

She never could understand why her boyfriend ranted on about having to 'catch up' with training.

She was already drooling at the sight of his chiseled chest and the hard ridges of his six-pack, how much more training could he possibly-

"Ahh!" her surprised yelp echoed through the gym hall when her boyfriend's hands threw her bra off to the side. When had he even unclasped it-

She eyed his hand, morphed into a crab claw before it transformed back into his original human one.

Wait a damn min-

"Did you just snap my bra?! Tamaki!" Y/N pouted before an idea struck her. "Hey, wait, why don't you ever use your quirk on m-" her suggestion flew out the window when her boyfriend's tongue in her mouth broke her train of thought and his hands gently kneaded her breasts, drawing moans out of her.

Tamaki himself breathed deeply, trying to control his growing desire. His eyes were drawn tightly together in concentration, but the tantalizing sight of his girlfriend with her eyes closed in pleasure made him curse silently at his weakening resolve.

He groaned when he felt her hot lips trail a searing path down his skin, suckling on his pulse point and biting his jaw or throat.

His own mouth didn't remain idle, kissing her cheeks and mouth and sucking on her neck, more harshly when he felt her hands explore his torso daringly.

The things her touch did to him should've made him embarrassed, but it only fueled his desire for more.

Tamaki had been so absorbed in kissing down further and laving attention to her breasts to notice her sneaky hands working his sweatpants off.

It was only when her warm hand grabbed his hardness through his underwear that he hissed and threw his head back, cheeks pink. "Y-Y/N..."

She smiled, thumb tracing distracting circles on his weeping head. "Feeling good, Tamaki?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice to crack from the pleasurable electric bolts shooting up from his pelvis.

It had surprised him how quickly she'd ripped the rest of her clothing off her body, how intense the delectable musk off her hit his nose and made his mouth water. It was at the insistent tug on her hips that she realized the ravenous look in her boyfriend's eyes. "T-Tama..." she squealed when he surged forward and swallowed her moans in a deep kiss, hands kneading every available surface of her skin.

When his fingers gently began rubbing her trickling wetness that soaked his pants, she tore her mouth free from his. "T-Ta-Tamaki, I-I need you. Now." Her whimpers and the dazed look in her eye was all he needed to quickly take off his pants and underwear.

Once he settled back down on the bench, she climbed back onto his lap, her dripping cunt dragging along his own weeping cock. He hissed through his clenched jaw, guiding her motions on top of him. "E-Easy..." no matter how hard he tried, not even he could stave off the need to be inside her.

His fingers slowly sunk into her up to his knuckles, drawing out a long needy moan from her kiss swollen lips. "Oh-ohhh T-aaahhhmaki, I'm- I'm ready, just-just please." he shook his head, chest heaving as he continued to thrust his fingers into her burning core, his other hand gently pinching her nipple.

It was only when she grabbed his face and kissed him like her life depended on it that he slowly removed his sticky fingers from within her wet walls, watching in mild amusement and embarrassment how her eyes zeroed in on his tongue cleaning her juices off his fingers.

"T-Tamaki, I-I need you...your cock inside me...please." his cheeks darkened in desire and the indigo haired man gripped his shaft in hand, one hand steadying his girlfriend's trembling hips to guide her on top of him.

"W-Wait, l-let me-" before he could finish his sentence, she pushed him back down against the steel pole of the weight machine.

"N-No, you-you're tired from training. Let me do the work." she was flushed brilliantly from his earlier ministrations and he couldn't help but admire the way she spread her nether lips for his throbbing cock and slowly sunk down into him.

They both threw their heads back when the tip of his cock was in. It's been a while since they did this, what with Tamaki's hero work and her own studies.

"Ohhhh T-Tama..." she whined in arousal, short pants leaving her lips as she felt his thick cock spread her open. Her boyfriend wasn't only gifted with his quirk, a small fact she sometimes subtly hinted at whenever she set out to praise her boyfriend in front of others.

'Tamaki? Of course he's great! He's such a strong and gifted hero, you know? But he's also pretty gifted in other areas.'

Nejire wholeheartedly supported her deviant endeavors, with Mirio laughing and comfortingly patting his blushing friend's back.

She shivered when she felt every pulsing vein on the thick shaft entering her gushing walls, moaning when he was fully bottomed out within her.

They paused to catch their breath, Tamaki trailing soft kisses all over her face and neck, his large hands moving to brush back her hair tenderly. "A-Are you okay, Y/N?"

She nodded rapidly, hands resting on his stomach. "I should-I should be asking you that big guy. You were training when I-I- ahhh interrupted." the twitch of his cock within her made her moan, gently rocking her hips against his.

Tamaki panted heavily, fingers squeezing her hips. "Y/N..." he returned the gentle rocking motions, worry creasing his brow as he watched her expression.

She laughed shakily, feet finding purchase on the floor beside the bench. "Y-You know I love it when you stretch me out like this Tama." his cock slowly slid out of her before she moved back down, impaling herself further on his throbbing dick. "Ohhh fuck..."

Tamaki groaned, sweat trickling down the side of his face and his hands gripped her hips harder and lifted her off his soaked lap, before he slammed her down on his twitching length again. "A-Ahhh! Uh-uh oh oh!" The sound of her moans riled him up even more and Tamaki lifted his hips to meet her eager thrusts.

It always took her boyfriend a while before he shed his shy demeanor and slowly but surely grew more confident, especially the louder her moans got. "Y-Y/N, someone will...someone will hear us." he panted, fingers digging into her sides.

She licked her lips, eyes closed at the pleasurable tingles down below. "Nghh...T-Tama, everyone's aslee-oh!" she jumped, a full body shiver wracking her when she felt her boyfriend's hips suddenly surge up into her again, harder and deeper than before. "O-Oh y-yes, Tamaki that-that was good! P-Please again!"

She mewled against him, running her hands appreciatively over his body, trying to keep a shred of control within her.

Face red but eyes hooded with desire, Tamaki gripped her more securely and bucked his hips up again, another louder mewl leaving the woman on top of him. "D-Damn, you just-g-grew tighter around me...." he hissed through clenched teeth, resting his head against the wall and trying to concentrate on bringing her pleasure.

The sensation of her cunt clamping down on his sensitive arousal made him thrust harder into her, ignoring the burning of his arms and legs. "Y-You-you know..."

Her dazed eyes met his intense gaze and she felt another shiver dance through her heated skin. "This...this is..." he groaned and pulled her hips down to meet his upwards thrust. "A-Also...training!" she cried out, gripping onto his shoulders for support, panting heavily into his neck.

Tamaki hissed at the strain on his hips every time they not only lifted up to thrust but lifted his girlfriend's weight with it. "Nghhh!" he groaned at the clamping of her soft, wet walls around him.

She cried out, falling against his chest, breathing as harshly as he was. "T-Tama, t-that's it- just- just a little-! Ah!" she bit the side of his neck, trying to muffle her too loud moans into his sweaty skin, tasting the salty sheen of sweat on it.

His hips stuttered and Tamaki wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, lifting her chin to silence her moans with his mouth. "L-Let's...let's finish...t-together." he bit her bottom lip, soothing the bite with his tongue, fingers digging into her ass as he ground her harder and harder on his leaking cock. "Ngh...I'm...I'm close!"

She tore her mouth away from his, trying to suck in air while also kissing him. "M-Mmm m-me too! T-Tamaki!"

"Y-Y/N...!" His own guttural drawn out moans were muffled by her lips, hips stuttering until he finally released, her own release following shortly after if the wildly fluttering sensation of her cunt around him was any indication.

She shook in his arms like a leaf and Tamaki himself tried to ignore the trembles of his arms and legs. They rested back against the machine, the metal pole wide enough not to dig too uncomfortably into his back, but the surface was still unpleasant.

They panted heavily, trying to catch their breath. She could feel his hot cum slowly trickling out of her, his softening cock still within her sensitive cunt. "T-Tama..."

"Y-Yes?" he sounded even worse than before on the treadmill, as if he ran a marathon.

"U-Um..." she wasn't nearly as nervous and flustered as her loving boyfriend could get, but now her face was on fire. "...I-I think we need a towel."

She felt the heaving chest beneath her flushed cheek freeze, breath catching in his throat, before she slowly raised herself off his torso. Tamaki's entire face blushed a deep red, she probably didn't look any different, when they both watched his cum trickle out of her entrance where they were still joined.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Shy Tamaki was back full force, she mused with a smile.

Tamaki carefully lifted Y/N off his sensitive length, the couple groaning at the action, before he grabbed the towel he'd originally meant to use for a shower later.

Thankfully, the most mess was still on or in their bodies and not the bench, where only a small trickle had escaped. Tamaki didn't think he could ever enter this hall anymore without combusting on the spot from the memories.

He awkwardly glanced at the now dirty towel then back towards his girlfriend, who had shyly grabbed his shirt as a makeshift replacement for her own clothes. "Uh...." both blinked at each-other before they started to laugh. "Oh my goodness...I'm so..." she ran a hand down her face, legs tightly clamped shut. "S-Sorry Tama, I-I didn't mean to um..."

Tamaki cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his burning neck. "N-No, its um, I-it was my fault, I uh- I was the one who-who..." his ears looked like red christmas lights, so red that Y/N feared they would catch on fire.

She suddenly started giggling, hand covering her mouth. "We really did...make a bit of a mess huh..."

Tamaki's expression softened, sweetly pecking her forehead. His face was still dark pink but he chuckled softly, helping his girlfriend clean up and dress so they could go home.

Thanks for reading! :)

#amajiki tamaki #tamaki amajiki #tamaki smut #tamaki amajiki smut #tamaki amajiki x reader #smut fic #bnha fic #bnha smut #mha smut #mha fic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #reader insert #bloody beginner here

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thebluelemontree · 4 years

Note

I don't know if you've already answered a similar question, if you have I apologize and will look better for it. But do you think Sandor and Sansa would still love each with how much they've both changed? They've almost become new people, but still the same beings.

It’s no problem. I’ve written about that here and probably touched on this in many other posts.

I wouldn’t frame the question as would they “still love each other with how much they’ve both changed.” It implies that their feelings were already understood as love by them when they were together. What they had was a confusing mess of conflicting emotions that neither were fully capable of understanding or accepting at the time. Each had their reasons for why that was so, which goes to some of the issues that stood between them. While there is chemistry, intimacy, and empathy shown, IMO, it’s better to think of them as possessing the building blocks that can lead to love in the future.

On the other hand, there was also:

The fact that she’s too young, immature, and unready for a consummated romance with anyone. She needs space and time to grow up and figure out what she wants. Until AFFC, she’s still only comfortable consciously fantasizing about Loras Tyrell, who is non-threatening, conventionally attractive, and uncomplicated. They are still relatively chaste/borderline erotic fantasies. The unkiss takes time for her to consciously accept and embrace as reciprocated erotic desire.

The fact that he has no idea how to express himself without resorting to the language of violence that he understands best.

The fact that he copes with the unresolved childhood trauma and PTSD in unhealthy ways like his abrasive Hound persona, his overly-cynical worldview, and sometimes abusing alcohol when he’s under stress.

His immaturity and inability to simply ask for and accept the emotional support he wants (which she was perfectly willing to give) without freaking out over being vulnerable with someone.

The fact that they are on opposite sides of a war where Sansa’s family is in open rebellion against her captors who Sandor owes fealty to.

The fact that she’s the king’s betrothed. She’s his property. To explicitly act upon any romantic attraction would be considered treason, punishable by torture and death.

The fact that there is a massive class disparity between them that overshadows the age difference in their world. That’s one reason why neither can put a name to this thing between them. A future queen / high lord’s daughter from an ancient house should not be fraternizing with a non-knight from a house only three generations old. That’s why they struggle even knowing what to call each other because using first names shows too much familiarity and intimacy. This would be true even without any of the other conflicts. Class controls everything in Westeros.

And yes, he still owes her a big heartfelt apology for his abhorrent behavior during the Blackwater, and he should beg her forgiveness.

Most of these points I elaborate on in more detail in the links above. If you notice, though, most of these things have either been resolved or are in the process of being resolved. None of these issues were ever insurmountable obstacles.

The ways in which Sansa and Sandor have evolved even in their separation has been largely positive and complementary of each other. They haven’t grown apart or become incompatibly different at all. If anything, it’s pushed their feelings further along, and it’s clear they are very much on each other’s minds. Since we can see Sansa’s perspective firsthand, she’s only thought about Sandor more since he left.

Sansa has grown and matured a lot more when we see her in the TWOW sample chapter. Had the five-year gap panned out, she would be legally an adult in Westeros; however, dropping it doesn’t seem to have affected GRRM’s intentions for any of his POVs. She’s in the company of unconventional, sexually mature women in their early twenties who can be role models in navigating adult relationships. The sassy way she takes no shit from a brutally honest Harrold Hardyng shows she has confidence and the ability to go toe-to-toe with Sandor’s gruff personality without getting flustered and running away. After she wipes the floor with him with her wit, she ends up winning Harry over to the point he’s begging for her favor. There is no point in the sample chapter where she voices any anxieties about not feeling ready for marriage, sex, or children. This no longer seems to be an issue for her, so we can assume she feels okay with having an adult relationship at this point.

Her time as a bastard girl has made her warmer and friendlier. She was always kind, but proprieties and courtesies can also read as aloof and re-enforcing strict class boundaries. Can you imagine Kings Landing!Sansa hugging someone like Lothor Brune, a landless knight, as she does in TWOW? Or preferring the company of a sex-positive widow who enjoys taking lovers or a bastard girl over the “perfect sister” she saw in Margaery Tyrell and her cousins? Hell no. That would never happen. This new Sansa lacks those prejudices and is openly affectionate towards people she was raised to keep at arm’s length. Once she loosened up and stopped reciting courtesies, people actually got to know her and like her for who she is. That’s what Sandor always wanted from her, right? To drop the courtesies and flattering bullshit and just be a real person with him, not a talking parrot. While that criticism was harsh and rudely put, it had a lot of truth to it. It seems to have made Sansa into a happier person and more in touch with her authentic self. Now that she has accepted in Feast that she wanted Sandor like that, what is there to stop her from acting on it later?

The Quiet Isle didn’t exist before Feast. It was written for Sandor to recover and rehabilitate. Not just physically, but he’s getting what constitutes psychological counseling and a treatment plan that deals directly with his worst traits. He appears to meet with the Elder Brother often enough because the latter seems to know quite a bit about Sandor’s backstory, what his issues are, and exactly who Sansa Stark is. The rest of the time, he must observe the no talking rule and do meaningful work as a novice. This man, who once flaunted his contempt for those who couldn’t defend themselves as weak and deserving of death, is put to work digging graves for the innocent victims of violence. All day long, he has to look at the faces of men, women, and children killed by evil men with that philosophy. One brother even yells at him for carelessly tossing dirt around with the shovel, and he silently takes it. No smart ass backtalk. In the evening, he has to serve food and clear plates for men he would have once mocked. They’re men of faith, they’ve renounced violence, and Sandor sits lower in status than them. To Sandor’s credit, he humbly submits to all this in a show of respect and humility. It’s like he wants to learn these lessons they are offering and is allowing himself to be schooled. Now Sandor may always be Sandor on some level (if Stranger kicking down the stable doors and refusing to be gelded is any indication). Still, it does look like he’s become a gentler, healthier, and sober version of himself. The only part of Sandor that Sansa rejected was the Hound, and it’s both stated in the text and by George himself that the Hound is dead. Period. And yeah, it seems like Sandor is in a place where he is unlikely to backslide into old behavior, and he can make that heartfelt and necessary apology to Sansa. I don't think Sandor could ever be okay with moving their relationship forward without making amends first. It wouldn't sit right with his sense of remorse and personal responsibility, which is a good thing.

All these changes are for the better for them as individuals and as a possible future couple. Contrary to your ask, I would say a positive, fully-fledged romance with "HEA" potential wouldn’t be possible or believable without all the growth and changes they've undergone. When they reunite, they can do so on more equal footing.

Not that there aren’t more conflicts to overcome. They both are currently wanted fugitives for murders they didn’t commit, so they both need to clear their names and reclaim their true identities. There is still the matter of Sansa’s marital status as Tyrion isn’t dead but their marriage was also unconsummated. She could try to have her marriage officially annulled by the Faith somehow, but to do that, she’ll have to take the risk of revealing her true identity. Again, these don’t seem like plots that won’t be resolved anyway at some point. What about that class divide though? Well, the Starks aren’t like Tywin or Cersei, and they actually value things like faithful service. No reason why Sandor couldn’t be awarded a lordship and lands in gratitude for saving the lives of both Arya and Sansa. I’m just sayin’.

#valyrianscrolls #sansan meta #sansan #sansa stark #sandor clegane #asoiaf meta #my meta #future romance #asoiaf characterization #twow spec #asoiaf spec

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hacash · 4 years

Text

Too Much Information

"I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

The Fellowship share. Rather too much. In which Gandalf is cagey, Merry and Pippin are shameless, and Boromir finds out more about the Fellowship's personal lives than he wanted to know.

[also available on Archive of our Own]

(based on this post; probably not to be taken too seriously)

“Posey Greenfields does not count.”

“Does so.”

“Does not.”

“How, may I ask, does she not count?”

“I saw you at that party, Pip, and you were soused off your face. Utterly crocked. I should say she took advantage of you, more than anything.”

“Took advantage? I was giving her the advantage, and very willingly too!”

Boromir eyed the bickering cousins with more trepidation than he might an orc’s nest. Trust me, Elrond had advised the day he’d arrived in Imlradris, you might hear them talking and think you wish to know the conversation. In these moments it is best to turn around and walk the other way.

Delicately he coughed, meeting Legolas’ eye. “Do I want to know?”

The elf grimaced. Owing to his renowned elvish hearing it seemed he had caught every word: but going by Legolas’ disturbed expression Boromir suspected this wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “No. No you don’t.”

Recklessly Boromir plunged on, approaching where Merry and Pippin were setting up their bedding for the night. “Gentlemen?”

Two twin beady gazes turned on him.

“Context, please?”

Ignoring Legolas’ muffled groan and face-palm Merry turned about cheerfully, eager for a new participant – or, as Boromir was beginning to suspect, victim. “Ah, yes! You see, to kill time Pippin and I were discussing some of our more pleasant encounters back home when life was simpler and remembering some of our most enjoyable companions – ”

“Sex stories,” Boromir repeated with dawning understanding, unable to keep the horror from his voice. “You were swapping sex stories.”

“Exactly! Only Pippin insisted on counting one time with Posey Greenfields when he’d gotten into his father’s best sherry – Michel Delving’s finest, it’ll turn you cross-eyed – and I was telling him that didn’t count because he was in no fit state to make a decent showing.”

Pippin was looking so proud of himself, it was almost indecent.

“But…I thought you were a child?” Boromir demanded.

“Excuse me? I’m a tweenager.”

“You’re a deviant is what you are, Pippin,” Merry said.

“I’m an unfettered adventurous soul, lacking in fear.”

“Lacking something is certainly the way Mrs Goodchild described you when she caught you and her Iris at it in the barn that time. Your breeches, for a start.”

“You’re not of age, is what I meant,” Boromir interrupted, before his brain started producing images his stomach couldn’t handle.

“Hobbits often start courting far before they’re of age, sir.” Taking pity on the unfortunate Man, Sam approached with cups of stewed nettle tea. “It’s common enough to start when you’re about sixteen, seventeen years old. Of course, it’s less common to wed before we’re of age – ”

“Thirty-three!” Boromir exclaimed proudly.

“Yes, sir, very well done,” Sam said in a soothing tone. “Which gives any courting couple a nice long while to get to know one another proper. Of course, there’s those as might not wish to wait that long – ” Merry did the universal sign for a swollen belly behind Sam’s back, “but to have your son or daughter wed afore they’ve passed twenty five – well, it’s considered a bit tacky, if you get my drift? Not allowing them a proper chance at life afore they settle down.”

“And by ‘proper chance of life’ we mean…”

“Studying a trade, spending time with friends, practicing how to keep house – ”

“Or in Merry’s case: learning how to do it in a rowboat without capsizing,” Pippin interjected.

“Ah, discussing Salvia Chubb, I believe? As I recall you told your mother you’d caught a fish so large it had pulled you clean from the boat, and that was why you were soaked through and Salvia’s shimmy all tangled up in duckweed.”

Boromir nearly inhaled a mouthful of his wine at Frodo’s sudden appearance. He might have imagined that the last thing the two younger hobbits would want when discussing their depravity was the audience of their elder cousin, but Frodo just regarded the conversation with exasperated amusement.

“You shouldn’t listen to these two, Boromir,” the Ringbearer advised. “They’ll blister your ears off and then some with their sordid tales. My uncle Saradoc would have been at his wits’ end with Merry, save that half his tricks Merry likely learned from him.”

“Hey now!” cried Merry. “I won’t have such slander repeated before friends. There was a time when Frodo Baggins was considered quite the rascal of Buckland, Boromir, and don’t you forget it. If I have ever engaged in pranks, scandal, inebriation or debauchery, chances are I learned it from him!”

“Debauchery!”

“Downright,” Merry repeated, “debauchery.”

Frodo drew himself up to his full height and glared at his unrepentant cousin through narrowed eyes. “I admit to overindulging on Uncle Sara’s port or filching a basket of mushrooms on occasion, Meriadoc, but I object to the implication that I have ever debauched in my life.”

Sam and Pippin’s gazes flickered back and forth between the other two as if watching a game of chequers; Boromir’s cooling nettle tea was abandoned at his feet. Even Legolas was listening intently. Merry merely snorted, leaning back on his haunches as if to prepare for the master stroke. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Cousin, you remember when you left for Bag End I got your old room?”

“I do,” Frodo said stiffly, “and I fail to see the relevance.”

“Well, what you may not recall is you left plenty of odds and ends behind – mathoms mostly, old clothing and books and whathaveyou, and I found some rather interesting articles under your bed from your last years in Buckland. Some rather interesting journals, as it turns out.”

Seated beside Frodo, Legolas was lucky enough to get a good look at the Ringbearer’s face as the significance of this news dawned upon him. It was quite a spectacle, he had to admit. He’d never actually seen someone turn white before.

“You didn’t.”

Merry smirked. “It ended up proving quite an education when I was a tween, I must say.”

“…journals?” Boromir asked weakly.

“I forgot to mention: Melilot Brandybuck asked me to pass on her fondest and immense well wishes,” Merry continued wickedly, “for a couple of descriptive passages found in a particular entry – Wedmath, 1388, I believe? She was most appreciative, and I told her that the credit truly lay with you.”

Frodo’s face had bypassed white and was rapidly approaching green. “You didn’t.”

“Journals?” Pippin demanded. “What journals? Why haven’t I heard of any journals? You were courting Melilot at least ten years ago, why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Brandybuck?” Boromir asked. “But I thought Merry was – ”

“Third cousins,” Sam said wearily. “And if you let yourself get distracted by such matters, sir, you’ll never catch up.”

“And what descriptive passages could have Melilot Brandybuck still expressing her gratitude after ten years?”

“Oh, and Rory Goldworthy. Though I had to adapt some of the passages for Rory.”

“So what you’re saying is, half of Buckland knows Master Merry’s more – uh – adventurous activities can be put down to my master’s influence?” Sam said with a growing grin.

“And when were you planning on showing me these journals?”

“Meriadoc,” Frodo said slowly, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you.”

“You should all know, our cousin Frodo is a most meticulous and,” Merry smirked, “inventive writer in all respects. I only hope he provides the additions to Bilbo’s book with the same attention to detail!”

Frodo’s reaction was not a happy one. With an uncharacteristically warlike yell he hurled himself at his cousin, fists flying. Although Merry was by far the sturdier of the two, Frodo’s height and indignation found the two evenly matched, and the pair were soon scuffling haplessly in Merry’s bedding. Sam rolled his eyes, and Pippin cheered.

“Well then, lads.” Gimli’s voice was gruff as he approached. He had been discussing their route south along the Misty Mountains with Gandalf and Aragorn, and now the three of them eyed the ensuing chaos with amusement. “What are we discussing?”

“Sex,” Pippin piped up cheerfully.

Legolas was pinching the bridge of his nose: the mumbled comments of ‘raspberry jam and the garden swing’ made Sam fairly certain he had picked up most of Merry and Pippin’s early conversation, and also fairly certain that he didn’t want to know more. Gimli gave a low chuckle, Aragorn raised an eyebrow, and Gandalf shook his head and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘smut-minded hole-dwellers’.

“You started this?” Gimli asked Boromir.

“I asked for context.”

“Well, it’s your own damn fault then.”

“I’m fully aware of that,” Boromir said. “I may never be able to look Merry and Pippin in the eye ever again.”

“He’s embarrassed,” Sam supplied helpfully.

Boromir raised an eyebrow. He was not embarrassed by sex – he was forty years old, thank you very much, and a soldier to boot: quite accustomed to bawdy humour. He knew all the words to ‘The Istari and the Ninety-Nine Virgins’ and had laughed himself sick over every variation of the one about the widow’s lodging house on many occasions. But the thought of these hobbits, small as children, and the Ringbearer by all accounts…

“That’s rather rude,” Merry grumbled when he told them this. “You don’t see us saying ‘urgh, imagine those Men going at it when they’re so freakishly big and ancient looking’, do you?”

“Thank you very much,” Aragorn remarked dryly.

Legolas rolled his eyes. “After spending many days in the company of soldiers from Dale I rather thought all Men to be rather fixated on the subject.”

“Really? I always imagined Big Folk’d be rather prudish about sex,” Pippin said. “After all, I imagined none of you do it very often, taking into account your obvious shortcomings.”

There came from Aragorn the sounds of spluttering and rapid smoke inhalation; it appeared he’d lit his pipe at an inopportune moment. “I…I beg your pardon?!”

“Well, look at the size of you. I can imagine you might not be – well, no offence, but not wholly up to scratch.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Frodo steepled his fingers thoughtfully and fixed both Aragorn and Boromir with a calculating gaze that seemed to them a bit too intrigued to be decent. “Well, be fair Pippin. I can imagine size might be beneficial.”

“Maybe a bit.”

“A bit?” chorused the two Men. Gimli snorted.

“But, well, you’re all so big and clumsy,” Pippin, oblivious in the face of rapidly approaching death, continued blithely. “No dexterity. No lightness of touch. No imagination. And just like in everything else, if you think only size matters you’re not going to put too much thought into it, are you?”

Aragorn had gone a distinctly red shade. From across the fire Sam was could see Gandalf’s shoulders shaking with mirth.

“Is Aragorn alright?” Merry asked.

“Ignore him,” Gimli said, “he’s just reconsidering certain aspects of his romantic life for the past seventy years.”

“Bugger off.”

“Well, we’re not prudish,” Boromir said hastily – Gondor might have needed no king, but abandoning Aragorn to this particular line of questioning seemed like a step too far. “We just don’t feel the need to talk about it all the time.”

“We don’t all the time,” Pippin said. “Just in general conversation.”

“Do the women in your homeland not consider such conversation uncouth?” Legolas asked in bewilderment.

Sam snorted. “You want uncouth, sir, you should see young Myrtle Twofoot when she’s got into the summer punch. Three glasses and she’s inviting any lad in sight to untie her bloomer lacings with her teeth, and that’s a fact.”

“Good heavens,” said Boromir, looking rather pale.

“Oh, she always has the lad clean their teeth first, so as to keep everything hygienic sir. Very conscientious is young Myrtle.”

“So, unlike the rest of civilised society,” Legolas concluded, “hobbits would think nothing of taking their afternoon tea, or whatever you strange creatures call it, while listening to Merry regale them all with tales of – ”

“Being snowed in at Bag End with the Goodbody twins, a sturdy settee and the last of Mister Bilbo’s Old Winyards,” Sam supplied helpfully. “I remember your mother raising hell for that one when word got out, Mister Merry.”

Merry somehow managed to smirk and blush at the same time.

“Oh, honestly.” Aragorn looked particularly unsettled. “We don’t all need to hear about Merry’s…proclivities.”

“Well, you’re just a prude,” Merry sniffed.

“No, I’m just not interested in hearing about it.”

“Merry, leave him alone,” Frodo said. “I was in the room next to yours on that particular night, you may remember, and I took as little joy from hearing it then as Aragorn is now.”

Merry pulled a face.

“And to answer your question, Legolas: Merry is, as usual, grossly misrepresenting the Shire in his smut and yes you may well blush, Meriadoc – it’s hardly the sort of thing we discuss over tea and cakes on every occasion. However, I wouldn’t exactly call the subject taboo.”

“Hobbits,” Gandalf chuckled, “as in all respects, enjoy the comforts of life most openly. Why, I could tell tales of Bullroarer Took that might make your hair turn on end!”

“Any tips to pass on?” Pippin asked.

“None for your ears, young hobbit.”

“I’m surprised you’re so bashful, Aragorn,” Merry said. “I’d have thought you very experienced in that regard.”

“What? Why would I be?” Aragorn asked, genuinely baffled.

“Have you seen you?”

“I suppose I had offers – a few – ” Behind his back Legolas snorted and then hastily turned it into a cough, “but there was only ever Arwen.”

“So you’re only interested in girls,” Pippin said.

“No, I’m only interested in Arwen.”

“But what if a really beautiful woman offered – ”

“She did. Her name was Arwen.”

“I think it’s romantic,” said Sam.

“I think it’s idiotic,” Merry argued. “All of that,” he gestured to the ranger, who began blushing from the appraising stares coming from the rest of the Fellowship, “going to waste on just one lass. It’s not natural.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck!” Frodo barked suddenly. “Apologise, young hobbit. You’re being very disrespectful of other folks’ habits. We can’t all manage to be such tramps as you.”

“Maybe we should change the subject,” Gandalf said dryly. “This has all been gone into quite enough.”

“Like Melilot Brandybuck, apparently,” Pippin remarked.

“Peregrin!”

“And,” Boromir continued, suicidally avoiding the glare being levelled at him by Gandalf, “lads going with lads: that is not uncommon, in your home?”

“Why not?” Pippin asked, genuinely surprised. “I wouldn’t have known how to so much as kiss if it weren’t for good old Folco Boffin.”

“What of Gondor, Boromir?” Legolas asked.

He tilted his head thoughtfully. “It is not considered shameful. But neither is it wholly approved of, in the higher houses of Gondor, for one man to make a life pledge with another. The noble families consider their heritage to be of great worth, and to forgo the chance of heirs and carrying on the line simply for the sake of affection is not always smiled upon.”

“Giving up your chance of love with some nice lad just to carry on some family name?” Sam said sadly. “Well, that’s right sad, that is.”

“I suppose,” said Boromir. Having understood that he was expected to carry on the line of Stewards since he was a child, he had never thought about it until now. “Of course, in a family with many sons or male cousins, it is less of a scandal. And out in the country or in the garrisons, of course, no-one pays it much mind.”

“Much the same as in the North,” Aragorn, who had now recovered, added. “Though within the Rangers, of course, men with men is more common. Less women, you see.”

“Well, it’s common enough in the Shire,” Merry said carelessly. “Pippin had quite the crush on Aragorn when we first met him in Bree.”

“Hoy!”

“Seeing you and Arwen together must have been like hitting puberty all over again,” Merry said with a snort.

This time it was Pippin who launched himself at Merry; while Aragorn mutely examined himself with the very real concern that he was giving off some sort of wrong signal.

“Don’t worry, Aragorn,” Frodo said soothingly. “After you made us march ten miles in the pouring rain, I suspect Pippin’s ardour wore off some.”

Pippin resurfaced long enough to flash Aragorn a cheeky grin that did not particularly set his mind at ease. “Indeed. And unlike Merry, I don’t feel the need to be bossed around by any of my romantic partners – oof!”

“Well, there’s a revelation I did not particularly need to hear,” Gimli muttered as the two cousins began wrestling again.

“Goes all red whenever Estella Bolger shoots him a sharp word, he does – argh!”

“I still can’t believe how open hobbits are,” Boromir muttered.

“Some of us’ve got a bit more class than the young masters,” Sam said, “begging their pardons.”

“Some of us’re just too shy for their own good.” Pippin, panting, had resurfaced. “When we return to the Shire I’m going to lock you and the lovely Rosie into the cellars of Crickhollow and not let you out until the windows shatter.”

“Master Pippin!”

“Sam, please tell me you don’t go around debauching with all and sundry like the rest of these rakes,” Legolas said.

“Oh, Sam plays his cards close to the chest,” said Merry with an admiring smirk. “He might still be a virgin or might have serviced every lass in the greater Westfarthing area; we’d never know.”

“I have not serviced every lass in the Westfarthing, Mister Merry.”

“Every lad then.”

“Now why would I be doing that, Mr Merry? I don’t know every lad in the Westfarthing!”

“That’s something you take into consideration?”

“Yes!” Sam exclaimed. Merry just looked bemused.

“If Sam is more selective than you, Merry, that’s hardly something to mock,” Frodo said disapprovingly.

“Who said I was mocking? I admire you, Sam, but honestly you were too bloody blind by half to realise what it was like back home. Scores of tweenagers hanging around Bag End garden just waiting for the weather to warm so you’d so much as roll up your sleeves.”

While Pippin fell about laughing and the rest of the Fellowship chuckled, Sam turned a horrified shade of red. “That…that never happened!”

“Why do you think Frodo had so many cousins from Buckland and Tookborough come to stay? Not for his sparkling conversation, surely; there’s only so long you can feign an interest in elvish poetry.”

“Sam,” Frodo said patiently, “one summer we had half the Shire stopping in at Bag End asking you for gardening tips. Did you honestly think Milo Chubb was that interested in keeping the greenfly off his begonias?”

“You knew about this, sir?”

“Knew? I was considering selling tickets.”

Sam’s head fell into his hands.

“Your courtship rituals are certainly…unlike anything I have experienced,” Gimli chuckled drolly. “Whatever happened to a finely-wrought ring or a poem in honour of your loved one?”

“I’ve had good luck with a bottle of sherry and a broom cupboard,” Merry said.

“Typically affection is expressed in our culture with flowers, dancing, and fine manners,” Frodo smirked, “though Merry and Pippin have always seen fit to buck with tradition. Naughty limericks and drunk come-ons are not acceptable.”

“They’re not?” This was news to Merry.

“They were considered terrible flirts back home.”

“Ah yes,” Pippin reminisced dreamily, “I remember the day Diamond North-Took called me a depraved, unconscionable back-alley scoundrel without the morals of a tom-cat.”

“I know, because you do have the morals of a tom-cat.”

“And I told her that, but do you think she’d listen?”

“Folk are expected to calm down as they leave their tweens behind, but as long as no lass gets into trouble or no-one’s tumbling with someone thought to be courting someone else…” Frodo gave a nimble shrug, lips twitching with the fond memories of days long since past. The rest of the Fellowship almost felt like they were intruding. “I myself used to…but then, I don’t know, my interest rather waned over the years…”

“Lost your puff, more like,” Merry scoffed. Without looking up Frodo kicked him in the kneecaps.

“The desire faded,” he said firmly. “Lovely memories and a fine time in my life – but I don’t see anything lacking now it’s over, either.”

Boromir was fascinated. He’d never imagined that one could talk so frankly about desire – or, for that matter, shrug off the lack of it as nothing more than the disappearance of a well-loved but outgrown coat. “I never saw the appeal,” he remarked, “on any account. Good luck to you all if you so choose to take your pleasures in such a fashion, but – honestly, it seems quite the overblown fuss to me. I can think of half a dozen things I’d prefer doing to sex, just off the top of my head.”

“No tales of debauchery from you then?” Merry asked sadly.

“Unlike our esteemed Ringbearer,” Boromir bowed to the blushing Frodo, “I have never debauched. I’m not sure I’d know where to begin.”

The hobbits shrugged carelessly. “Oh, there’s plenty in our homeland who are much the same,” Pippin said. “Cousin Bilbo’s a hundred and twenty-nine if he’s a day, and I don’t think he’s thought on sex once in all that time.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh, come off it. I’d have heard if Bilbo had some lost lady-love in the Shire, mark my words.”

“I said nothing about romance. I just said your assumptions that Bilbo was never interested in sex are inaccurate,” Frodo said, a rather haunted look on his face.

“What, and he told you that, did he?”

“I didn’t need to be told, Peregrin; the arrangements he had with the Widow Moley rather spoke for themselves.”

For a moment there was a distinct choking sound. Sam was very carefully examining the ground beneath his feet while Merry had stuffed his fist into his mouth, shaking with barely contained glee. The rest of the Fellowship exchanged glances. Pippin’s mouth had slowly fallen open: as Frodo continued to look pointedly at him he began to feel much the same way as one might when one bites into an apple and sees half a grub wriggling merrily away at him.

“Bilbo had companionship in his golden years?” Aragorn said in a somewhat strained voice. “That’s…that’s nice.”

“Every Sunday after tea,” Frodo said with the hollow tones more suited to an old soldier recounting the horrors of battles long since past, “and every Trewsday before luncheon; round to Bag End she’d come, regular as clockwork for nearly ten years. Why do you think I asked your mother for earmuffs every Yule?”

“But,” Boromir said, “I thought you told me you were only adopted by Bilbo when he was in his eighties?”

“That I did.”

Pippin finally made a sound, and that sound was: “Eeuargh…..”

“Well now, here we see again the difference in the races. For an elf to be in such a steady relationship at a mere eighty years of age would be considered rash indeed,” Legolas snickered, with the air of one stirring the pot with gleeful abandon.

“Cousin Bilbo is not an elf.”

“Quite,” Frodo said tartly. “Elves are beauteous creatures to behold, and walking in on him and the Widow Moley was not, repeat not, beauteous.”

Pippin made another strangled sound.

“Gimli,” Aragorn said hastily: the thought of old Bilbo, who he had long regarded as akin to a kindly old uncle, getting up to things was not sitting well, “care to add to the conversation?”

Gimli chuckled. “Alas, we are not quite as rambunctious as hobbits.” He leant back and puffed on his pipe. “In truth, romance is rare in my culture – admired well enough, but not prized highly, and many of my people never marry at all. Many do not desire it, being so engrossed in their crafts. There are dwarven songs of great loves and terrible loss that could put even an elvish lay to shame,” Legolas twitched, “but it is beauteous rare. What is romance compared to the joy of your work, the stonecraft and metalwork that outlasts the ages, the artistry of one’s hands?”

Pippin opened his mouth to say something about drilling, tunnelling and chisels, but was stopped when Sam, without any apparent change in his expression, took hold of his wrist and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Though Bilbo told me you were considered quite the catch in Erebor?” Frodo prompted.

Gimli shrugged off the complement modestly. “Dwarves who are so inclined towards affairs of the heart – and body – are rare, and so seen as something of a prize. And I flatter myself that I am no poor craftsman; no dwarf or dwarrowdam would scorn one who knows how to wield a hammer.”

“Pippin, shut up,” Boromir said hastily.

“So, you mean – women with women and men with – ”

“Dwarves with dwarves,” Gimli said firmly. He shrugged, and then gave a great booming laugh, smacking his hands down upon his knees. “Though we are a people of great enthusiasms in all respects. Those dwarves who do wed tend to have very successful – and very enjoyable – marriages. Dwarves may not have much interest in affairs of the bed, but when we do it we do it right.”

“Remind me to take a trip to the Blue Mountains when all this is over,” Merry muttered to Pippin with a lecherous grin.

“I don’t think you could handle it.”

“I could.”

“The size difference could be a problem.”

“I could cope with that.”

“The beards would itch.”

Merry paused, then nodded. “Fair point.”

Meanwhile Gimli was eyeing Legolas with wry amusement. “And I suppose your lot have their minds on higher things?”

Legolas scoffed. “Where do you think our children came from?”

“Be fair, sir,” said Sam. “After hearing all those great tales, you start to think elves are a little too dignified for matters such as that.”

“Thingol and Melian,” Frodo chipped in, “Beren and Luthien, Earendil and Elwing. Sam’s right, it’s difficult to imagine them all shagging.”

“Do you mind?” Aragorn asked, turning queasy. Most of these were his potential in-laws.

“Elves are always attracted to beauty,” Legolas’ brow raised, “of any and all kinds. But I can’t deny, compared to us mortals are more – ”

“Randy?” Pippin said.

“Horny?” Merry added.

“Lecherous goats?” Sam asked with a grin.

“Those weren’t quite the synonyms I was grasping for, but essentially yes.”

“Though to be fair,” Aragorn chipped in, “when you say beauty of any and all kinds, be careful not to misrepresent, Legolas. I recall you told me that your father had much to say when as a fauntling your admiration of the Lord Elrond grew a little too obvious to be overlooked.”

“Because he was a fellow?” Merry asked sympathetically.

“Because he is half-elven!” Legolas exclaimed. “Sweet Elbereth, I thought my father would never let it go.”

“Nice to know even elves have their hang-ups,” Sam said.

“But we remain more higher-minded about such things than mortals,” Legolas said.

“Not judging by some of those books of elven art in Lord Elrond’s library.”

“Books?” Merry perked up noticeably.

“Oh,” Gimli snorted, “if it’s art it doesn’t count.”

“I don’t care how many plinths and urns they include, I still use the term art advisedly.”

“What books? Why weren’t they shared?”

“Maybe Frodo’s journals would find a place there,” Legolas said with a smirk. Frodo groaned again.

“Well, this has been most informative,” Aragorn said. “If we get attacked by a marauding band of orcs in the middle of the night it’s pleasant to think we’ll at least have Frodo and Boromir to defend us, for it seems half this Fellowship will be too randy to even think of our defence. I think that clears up every culture represented here, does it not?”

They paused, mulling it over. Then Frodo said, in a particularly thoughtful tone: “Well, not quite every culture…”

As one – warily, and as if drawn by unspeakable horror – the Fellowship turned to look at Gandalf, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout this debate. He puffed contentedly on his pipe and simply looked back at them with eyebrow raised, daring them to ask.

Pippin opened his mouth eagerly, and then without preamble was punched right in the stomach by Merry.

Later, when they were all asleep and Legolas had taken the first watch, Pippin rolled onto his back and sighed thoughtfully. “I wish we hadn’t gone into all that now, you know? I feel hellishly homesick.”

His cousin patted him on the shoulder. “We’ll be home soon, Pip.”

“I hope so – I want to be back in the Shire. It’s a terrible thing to think of, never going back. Why, I might never have Diamond cast aspersions on my honour ever again!”

“I shouldn’t worry about it. I have no doubt she’ll be denying the very existence of your honour the minute we get back.”

Pippin perked up. “You think so?”

“I’m sure of it.” Merry tucked an arm behind his head. “Funny to think of, isn’t it, old Gandalf? Though I suppose he doesn’t go in much for romance - wizards probably have too much to think about, what with their great works and all.”

“And their staffs.”

“Yes Pip.”

“It must take a lot of maintaining, a mighty staff such as that.”

“Good night, Pippin.”

“And another thing – ”

“Pip?”

“Yes?”

“I can’t help but think you’re working your way up to a dirty joke about a wizard’s staff. I’d rather you didn’t, if it’s all the same to you.”

#lord of the rings #lotr #merry brandybuck #pippin took #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #boromir #legolas #gimli #aragorn #gandalf #my fanfiction #someone take these characters away from me #ace boromir #demi sam #bi merry and pippin #no-one in this fellowship is straight

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

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hi ash! i know you said before that you're not autistic you just did a lot of research to depict chris realistically- do you have any advice for finding resources on writing disabled characters that isn't like... horribly abelist? im writing someone with an intellectual disability from head trauma and who is nonverbal, and i want to get it right but everything online seems very autism-speaks-y. im autistic and semiverbal but i dont have an id and i want to be realistic and respectful.

I cannot speak with any expertise or sense of speaking from enough experience to be taken as an expert here, and defer as always to those with lived experience with intellectual disability!

But I will give a few more general tips for what to do when looking to write a character with a neurological makeup that doesn’t match your own, as far as what has worked for me with Chris:

1. The story should never be ABOUT their lived experience if you do not also have it. Chris’s story is not about autism, or being autistic. I would never presume to try and write a story like that because, whatever my intentions, I don’t have that knowledge that comes from living it. I would at BEST be taking the experiences of others, their voices. At worst, I would be someone standing with a megaphone shouting over those who deserve to be heard.

Making the disability what the plot revolves around is... generally just not going to be a good idea, in any sense. It’s moments like this where I feel like it’s best to defer to the writers who have lived it, instead.

This is not to say “never write someone different than yourself”, because... I don’t think that’s at all good advice. I think that way lies stunted writers who never push themselves. But it does mean “do not center the story on this thing if you have not experienced it and don’t have that knowledge and understanding”.

2. At the same time, don’t try to be coy or dance around or hide the disability behind purple prose or refuse to acknowledge its reality. Trying to make a disability sound cute, or talk around it instead of speaking it out loud, can be minimizing or shaming in ways that I think it’s easy to miss, if you don’t live with that disability yourself! To me, this touches on one of my hugest pet peeves - characters who are written as having a particular neurodivergence in media, or shown on tv, but they never expressly admit to it or name it.

I know I hesitated with Chris, more because I didn’t feel comfortable giving him a diagnosis until I understood autism better myself, and I do regret how long it took me to embrace that reality about him. I just thought it better to err on the side of researching before I embraced. But I do feel some guilt about waiting so long when I had readers who were identifying so heavily with him, and I kind of knew, but just didn’t feel comfortable owning it yet.

3. On a related note - disabilities in a story that become melodramatic tragedy or turn the disabled character into a ‘redemption story’ for an abled character. This is so, so prevalent in common media and pop culture and once you recognize it for what it is, it’s so hard to not see it in so many places. Think of how many movies, novels, etc contain a disabled character who exists to teach abled people some virtuous lesson about living life to the fullest or ‘what it really means to be human’ blah blah blah blah blah. Don’t do that. Please. (I mean, I kind of feel like you definitely won’t, but I’m just speaking very generally here). If you find the story going in a direction in which abled people learn something from the disabled person, please think very carefully and critically as to why the story is heading in that direction.

Language alone can also be a problem here - think about the difference between openly describing a character moving around their life with a wheelchair vs. calling them “wheelchair-bound” or “reliant on a cane”, when the cane or wheelchair may actually represent freedom to that person - an aid they need, yes, but one that allows them to live with far more agency than they might have had otherwise.

To describe them, especially from their own POV, as “wheelchair-bound”, may ring false to disabled people who understand that the wheelchair isn’t a cage, but a tool that allows that individual person to feel less caged by being able to more freely leave home.

(This varies person to person, just providing an example)

4. Educate. Research. And don’t just do so by asking people with disabilities to tell you their stories. I often express gratitude to the autistic readers, those with ADHD, etc who spoke up about Chris, talked about their own experiences, identified with him, found him very resonating for aspects of their own lives.

These stories, this information, this sharing of their lives was given freely to me, and I’m fucking amazed and grateful for how welcomed Chris was, and how willing readers were to share about themselves when talking about him.

Their willingness to speak about these things is something I treasure. But I absolutely would never believe that a single person owed me the story of their life to make sure I got Chris right. That was my responsibility, you know? I try to keep in mind the concept of ‘emotional labor’. Asking a disabled person to be your resource is asking them to give, and give, and give of themself. They may want to give you that kind of labor, they may not. But I definitely wouldn’t ask it of anyone without understanding it was something they were happy or felt comfortable giving.

Research, on the other hand, is essential. You mentioned things being “autism speaks-y” when trying to research on your own, and oh god, do I feel you. It sucks that autism speaks is the first thing to pop up when trying to research the lives of autistic people - and in my research, I was lucky to already know AS sucks and write them off and anyone who heavily referenced them as not helpful. I can see how someone might not know that, though, and stumble on them and believe they were a helpful resource for writing autism when they... well. Nope.

Try to think about the express disability you are writing for this person, and why, and then go research! I looked up “books on autism recommended by autistic people”, and found some invaluable books, yes, but also papers published online, websites, etc! Each of them vetted and looked over and recommended by autistic people, so I knew I was getting information that came from people with those experiences and that understanding. A good example - I picked up a book on the history of diagnosis and treatment of autism in the United States, mentioned it here, and @redwingedwhump recommended a book called Neurotribes... which turned out to be immensely more helpful, spot-on, and provided some really excellent foundational information I wouldn’t have found in the first book at all.

There’s a lot of information out there on Traumatic Brain Injuries and their lasting effects on individuals who receive them, so I would start there. What you’re describing sounds like a TBI with lasting effects! So I would start your research there, and also look up being nonverbal separately, as well as combining the two. Make sure you’re not just looking at the top links - often paid ads or problematic organizations that are able to pay more for better exposure - but also scanning for blogs, nonprofits, lived-experiences stories, too.

I found a lot of information on the second or even third page of results i would never have seen if I only stuck to the first. Remember the algorithm on search engines is usually showing you what other people are clicking on, not necessarily the best source.

5. This is one you the asker already know, but I want to include it for general reasons: do not ‘dumb down’ the thought processes of a nonverbal or semi-verbal person. I see this in fiction surprisingly often, and I think it’s this sense we have as abled people (’we’ just meaning I’m including myself) that being verbal is required to have a highly complex thought process, and it’s... it’s just fucking not. Speech and though are related but not completely wound around each other, and the ability to verbalize is not the same as the ability to think.

Like I said, I know you know this, asker, but it’s something I see in fiction/media and it drives me up the wall. So I wanted to include it.

6. For the love of God, do not use medical terminology unless you actually know what you’re doing/talking about. Many disabled people or those with serious medical conditions become what amounts to experts on their own diagnoses, because they have to. They have to be experts to receive the care they should be able to rely on. If you constantly fuck up terminology - trust me - it will be noticed, and it will take people out of the story or hurt their ability to suspend disbelief while reading.

There are ways to do medical scenes/conversations with doctors that avoid falling into this problem! I would just be very very careful to heavily research before using any complex terminology.

7. This disabled person does not exist to evoke pity. They are a human - nuanced and multi-layered - living their life, and their story should always, always reflect that. I don’t really have anything else to add to that.

I would love to hear further advice from anyone with anything else to add.

#writing advice #writing

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divinaes-bookofsecrets · 4 years

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Private. Hello there I would like a spirit guide reading please -Rochelle (RS) ♉️

Hello 👋hi 👋 (🌺Rs)Rochelle are you a 🐂 ♉?

Really ... if I guessed you correctly you are Taurus in your natal birth chart (I am an aspiring astrologist and zlso do in-depth Astrology Reports based off of your natal birth charting so please do nog hesitate to ask for That next !

Your SpiritGuide is Cressida

💎🦋Galactic-Arctic Fox🦋💎

She is a mystical interterrestrial being from a galaxy through another realm not too far away but just out of reach !

Cressida has been with you since 2018 and should remain by your side as a companion, spiritual guardian 🙏 ✨ and your synchronicity lessons for the rest of your life.

Why is Cressida with me and trying to help or heal my situation and past situations or for future situations anyways? Well.. heres an in depth description of what this particular animal spirit totem means ..

Whats Cressida doing? How can I place her in my life and recognize her?

🦋Whether the White Arctic Fox appears in dreams, visions, waking life or synchronicities, it is a sign and message that you are to keep going, amid the test of your nature and character. Some powerful forces are working on your behalf to sort things out in a favorable outcome or way soon. Whatever you may be going through will soon pass. These tests and trials have made you stronger, and giving in is for the weak. You should realize how far you have come. You will be arriving to a place of rest and completeness soon. 🦋The Arctic Fox is a sign to trust yourself, above trusting anything or one outside of you. At least for the purpose of clarity. IN other words, it is time to pause, breathe, and receive insights from your oversoul or higher self. As a seeker of truth, you cannot allow someone or something else to dilute what you sense. Take time out to refuel so that you can come from a place of neutrality.🦋 You will need to be stubborn in a forthcoming opportunity and trust your instincts. Even if you collaborate with others, or cooperate with them, you must keep your eyes open as no one can look out for you the way that you can for yourself. In other words, watch your own back. Don’t give that responsibility entirely to others.🦋 The Arctic Fox teaches us that, we are only beings and we are all doing things to survive. Your trust is only owed to a higher source. You can cooperate with others, but the key is to look out for yourself always. Don’t just expect others to put you first. 🦋Always follow up, and if possible do things yourself when it comes to projects that require your creativity. The White Arctic Fox is a message that you want others to be better than what they are showing you. In other words, you are looking at the aspect of how a person can be and not what or who they truly are. If you are a part of a group of people who are being intentionally deceptive, it is best to clear up your acts now rather than later. 🦋The Arctic White Fox is about seeing beyond what we are shown, and hearing beyond what we are told. Your psychic senses will be heightened at this time.💎 Pay attention to what is being revealed. 🧿

⚠️This message isn't, obviously resonant with all whose paths it crosses, as perhaps you may come into contact with someone of this vernacular, mastery or skill. Therefore, it is a sign from the universe that you're meant to work with such a person. ⚠️

🦋What does She look like? 🥀

Her fur is multidimensional and is actually the softest known material other than silk in this universe and all other universes including hidden realms..

Since she is a Galactic Arctic Fox you'll expect to see that she looks rather like a regular Arctic White Fox from our home planet Earth🌍But has different highlights and dimensions to her skin and her fur body. She has *fur tattoos* which are blue-- they represent the Element Water(do you have a lot of water 💧in your natal birth charting , I suspect you do 😉 )Her fur tattoos are like a war paint that was branded onto her when she became fully mature and with the seasons her other markings show up - each season - has a different shade of white to blue hue or even teal like transference that takes place , its quite magickal to see.

What is Cressida's personality like?

🦋Cressida has a strong, but warm and gentle but also courageous and brave personality and soul as a Galzctic Arctic Fox 💙 ❤ 💖 She conducts herself with a sense if integrity in every situation(no matter what!) 🦋Integrity is a personal trait that has strong moral principles and core values and then conducting your life with those as your guide.🦋 She has a lot of compassion for all of humanity but especially you (Rs) ♉ This character traits example feels deep sympathy and pity for the suffering and misfortune of others, and you have a desire to do something to alleviate their suffering..She sees that you may be suffering maybe and has messages for you just about to come up .. old on we need to finish her character profile (bio)

🦋Cressida is an honest Galactic fox just as much of them are but there are more certainly the few bunches who are so mischievous that they are notdared to be messed with (worse than the worst fae)

🦋She has strong reliability. This SpiritGuidr's character quality can be consistently depended upon to follow through on your/her commitments, actions, and decisions. She does what she says you she will do.🥀🌍(88% of the time)

😷She hopes you wear a mask because she is very worried and concerned about your welfare during this coronairus. Please don't fall asleep 😴 🙏 😫 😪 😩 😭yet 😴you'll miss her message for you... im going to stop talking zbout her personality there id so much lol.

What is my SpiritGuide messages?

Cressida has a numerology message she has been sending you many other synchronicity but she asks that you pay attention next for the number # 536 if you haven't seen it by now already...

WHATS IT MEAN ANYWAYS?

Number 536 is a blend of the energies and attributes of number 5 and number 3, and the vibrations of number 6. Number 5 resonates with major life changes, making important choices and decisions, promotion and advancements, adaptability and versatility, personal freedom and individuality, life lessons learned through experience and resourcefulness. Number 3 offers assistance and encouragement, communication and enthusiasm, growth, expansion and the principles of increase, broad-minded thinking, self-expression, talent and skills. Number 3 also resonates with the energies of the Ascended Masters. Number 6 relates to love of home, family and domesticity, honesty and integrity, responsibility, compassion and empathy, finding solutions, grace and gratitude, the ability to compromise, emotional depth, provision and providing and the material aspects of life.

Angel Number 536 brings a message from your angels to maintain a positive attitude in regards to your monetary and financial circumstances as changes are taking place that will ensure that your material and monetary needs are met. Your positive affirmations, prayers and optimistic outlook have manifested opportunities to attract prosperity and abundance into your life. Trust that your Spirit Guide(s) especially Cressida.. will surround, support and guide you through these important changes.

Number 536 is a message to trust that the changes you may be going through are happening for your highest good. These changes may involve your career choices, your place of residence and/or an important relationship. Your angels support you through these changes and offer guidance and assistance to make transitions easier. Trust that these changes will have positive effects on your life and will ensure a continued supply of abundance to meet your daily wants and needs.

Number 536 encourages you to move forward with positive plans and ideas as they will prove to be most beneficial in all ways for yourself and your loved ones.

Spiritual Messages...

Cressida wants you to be inspired, creative and most of all live out your destiny!!

🙏 Please take this advice seriously! You need to think about:

Surrounding yourself with people who reflect the character traits you want to embrace.

🦋They will inspire and motivate you to build these traits in yourself.

🦋Try to avoid people who have a weak character and make bad decisions.

🦋When you live your life being true to yourself and honest with others you manifest positive energies and desired results and outcomes. Speak your truths with gentleness and love and accept others with grace and understanding.

Monthly Message from your Spirit Guide ✨ 💛 ❤ 💖

A creak you hear in the dark could be the settling of an old house, or it could be a burglar creeping on the stairs. Loud voices you hear coming in through the windows could be your neighbors arguing, or it could be those same neighbors sharing good news. The lamp going out on your nightstand could be a sign that electricity has shut down, or it could mean you need a new bulb. There is often more than one way to interpret something, and usually there's nothing to worry about. Remember that today, Taurus, if you are tempted to follow worrisome thoughts. It's more likely there's nothing to worry about.

🦋🌍🦋

This is a great week(jan 11th to jan 17th) for you to finally finish one or two of those big projects you put on hold a while back. You may have thought you would never be able to get to them, but if you actually put this into your schedule and get started, you should see that it will all fall into place, and you'll get everything else done that needs to be done. This is also an ideal time to complete important conversations that were left dangling, maybe because there was no answer at the time, or because someone was being elusive about responding. You should find it easier now to get answers and receive honest reactions. Crossing all of these things off your long list will give you a great sense of satisfaction. You may even find that because of this efficiency, you will be inspired by a new idea that allows you to tap into a talent you have not used lately, and that would be a great idea. You have been very assertive in trying to attract an investor, team member, or partner for some project you want to take on. However, you are advised now to take a wait-and-see approach and be patient. What you need will materialize if you kick back a bit and let it come to you.

Thank you for meeting your Spirit Guide!! If you have any questions, concerns, or additional specific questions to ask your Spirit Guide you can always Astral travel and speak to her directly but; if you prefer that I take another independent in depth dive into your world I will 🌍🦋 🌎 I will answer up to 2 questions per ask Thanks for allowing this experience to take place, please 🙏

🦋Like && Share this post 📫 ✨

Much Love😍 ❤ Divinae

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whatisthisidefk · 3 years

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The River, the Sea, and the Stars Part Five (SFW version)

They stood to bid goodbye to Dra's parents after the teapot was empty and the plate of sandwiches bare. Dra gave Therien the responsibility of repacking their bags with new supplies she gleaned from her parents, while she distributed half of her tea supply into clay jars on the kitchen shelves.

Soon, though, they slung their bags over their shoulders. Therien could almost see Dra vibrating, shifting her weight with the lashing of her tail as she turned her face to the afternoon sun that streamed across the road.

In a way, he understood. He wanted to be on the road, too, though the witches' cottage had been comfortable like a dream. He could see how easy it would be to get lost in this lazy little village among the herbs and flowers and forest.

"Merci, Mem, Din," he said. "I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality."

"Dra's talked so highly of you, for so long," said Mem, placing a hand on his arm in exactly the same way Dra often did. "I'm glad we finally met."

"So am I. I hope we can visit again when all this is over."

She patted his arm. "Here," she said, "Since you have room in your bag now, some pasties for the road. They'll stay good for a few days if you need 'em to." She handed him a parcel wrapped in a worn tea-towel, tied with yarn. Therien packed them away at the top of his satchel. They were still slightly warm, and though he'd just had lunch, his mouth watered at the scent of the herbs she must have used in baking them.

"Ready?" Dra called from the doorway, and Therien nodded.

"Let's go save Andros," he replied, and followed her into the morning.

***

They left the village behind in short order, staying on the road going westward. For a few hours, they were surrounded by thick forest on either side. Occasionally, they came to crossroads or offshoots, but each time Therien expected a clearing, there were only more trees.

He couldn't complain. The canopy provided shade, but enough sunlight made it through and dappled the ground. The road itself changed surface whenever they neared a crossroads or a settlement, but for the most part, it was well-tempered dirt and fairly even. The weather agreed with them, as well, warm but with a breeze that ruffled the leaves and made the forest whisper all around. It made for a pleasant walk, and it would have been perfect, except the silence gave Therien plenty of time to think about Andros.

As ever, the memory of Andros begging him not to follow replayed itself in his mind. But so did the sound of those chains, and the fear in his eyes. The tug in Therien's chest still pulled at him, guiding him, he imagined, though toward what, he didn't know. Was Andros in a cage somewhere, or enslaved? Was he afraid? Was he alone? Was he--

"You're quiet, even for you," Dra said, disrupting his thoughts.

Therien shook his head. He felt dizzy. "Thinking, that's all. Um...could we rest for a moment?" He slowed to a stop, swayed in place. "I feel like...not right."

She was at his side in an instant. "Here, off to the side. Sit on the grass. Easy, like that." She offered him a canteen. "Take a few sips. I'm sorry--it's been a lot."

The water helped. Therien wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. "Merci."

"Ça va?" She asked. He heard the concern in her voice and the use of French meant she worried about him somehow not having full use of his mental faculties.

Which was odd. "I'm fine, Dra," he said irritably. "What was that about?"

Her shoulders relaxed. "Sorry. I wanted to be sure you were okay. The Feywild is...it's a lot for mortals, you know? Things affect people here. You wouldn't climb a mountain without adjusting to the altitude over time, right? It's the same thing here. We just leapt in because it's urgent, but if we'd planned this, you would have come over and gone back a little at a time."

"You tell me this now?" He snorted a laugh. "It's probably all the glitter in the air. Honestly, I'm fine. I promise."

"Okay. But tell me if you feel strange again. A few minutes' rest won't make much of a difference in our journey, and you should be ready for anything."

He handed the canteen back to her after another swig and was about to agree to let her know, but they both stilled at a sound from the woods behind where they rested. He glanced sharply at her. "Did you hear something?"

She frowned. "I did. It sounded like--"

"--elp? Help? Anyone?" A querulous voice called, then, more quietly, as if to himself, "This is the worst bloody day. Help?"

Therien scrambled to his feet and, dizziness forgotten, he and Dra left the road to locate the source of the voice.

"Where are you?" called Dra as they moved through the trees. "Are you okay? Say something?"

"I'm here!" A note of hope entered the tone. "Careful of the slope by the large elm. I slipped and I'm stuck. Oh, for the love of the gods, help!"

They reached the tree in question. As they came around it, one on each side, they found a well-dressed young man thigh-deep in mud at the bottom of a depression in the forest floor. He clung to the broken limb of a tree that arced over the spot, and not far from where he was caught lay a wide-brimmed, feathered hat.

The man himself was quite obviously Fey, with icy blue skin and silver hair. He was also, Therien couldn't help but notice, very pretty. At the moment, however, those pretty features expressed a combination of annoyance and helplessness. He brightened considerably once he saw Therien.

"Ah, kind sir, lend me your aid?" He managed to bat his eyelashes and attempted to position himself in a more fetching manner, though that movement was hampered by the mud. Still, he gamely tried, and Therien couldn't help but laugh.

"Hold on," he said as he unhooked the rope from his belt. He handed one end to Dra. "Can you get this around the tree without falling in yourself?"

Dra gave a derisive snort. "My people are made for this," she stated. To the blue man, who had yet to acknowledge her, "How did you end up here, anyway? We're way off the road."

"My hat blew off," he said, with a sad glance at the offending accessory. "I chased it and almost had it, then I slipped." He pointed his chin at a swath of disturbed leaves that did indeed run from the tree to where he now waited. "I'm just glad no one was around to see that."

"Well," Therien said, bringing the man's attention back to him full force, "We'll have you out in a moment." He picked his way around to a shallower side of the depression and eyed the limb of the tree. "How secure is that, do you think?"

The man gave the branch an experimental tug. It held firm. "Seems strong to me…?"

"Good. I can use it for leverage. I'm going to throw this over the top, and you catch it. All right?" He tied the end into a large loop, big enough to go over the man's head and around his waist.

"Anything you say," said the man, a little breathlessly.

Therien glanced at Dra. "Got that end secured?"

"Yep," she replied cheerfully, with a little wave. She'd wrapped it once around the tree and braced the end in her hands. "Pull 'im out!"

He ran the rope across his back and around his forearm to his hand, then tossed the free end over the limb. "Catch!" The man grasped for it; as soon as he let go of the branch to wind his hands in the rope, he began to sink again. Therien gave him as much slack as he could without losing tension. "Get it under your hips and hold on!"

Therien pulled. At first, nothing happened, but then the man's legs began to come free with a sucking sound. Therien walked backwards to haul him out of the muck until the man could get both arms around the branch and his feet dangled in the air.

"Take up the slack, Dra," he called, and she did as he asked. It allowed him to keep his end of the rope secure as he moved closer to the man, sliding along the rope until he reached the downed limb and could put his hands out for the man to take.

After a moment, the man let go of the branch and allowed himself to fall into Therien's arms, safely away from the wet earth that had trapped him.

"Got you," said Therien.

"Yes, you do," sighed the man with a dreamy expression, "my hero."

***

Dra retrieved the hat while Therien set the man on his feet, though he seemed loath to let go of Therien quite yet. "Just a moment," he said demurely, "let me catch my breath. I'm in your debt, kind sir. Tell me, to whom do I owe my thanks?"

"Pretty sure you are the one who's supposed to introduce yourself first," Dra said dryly, which gave Therien a chance to extricate himself from the stranger's grasp.

"Oh, but of course. Where are my manners?" He bowed with a flourish. "I am Mnaer, prince of the Starlit Court. And truly, I owe you a debt of gratitude."

Dra rolled her eyes. "Oh, that makes sense on so many levels. Careful, Therien. He's got a reputation."

"My reputation is sterling," he began, then shrugged. "Actually, no, it's not. But sweet--Therien, is it?--please believe me when I say that I honor my debts. And," he added, "I have a feeling that repaying you for your help would be an utter pleasure."

"You really don't have to," Therien began, only to be cut off with a wave.

"I want to, lovely. At very least, let me buy you dinner." He seemed to notice Dra for the first time. "Both of you, of course. There's an inn not far from here. What do you say?"

Therien looked to Dra, who considered a moment. "Drinks, too?"

"I'll buy the whole inn if it helps." Mnaer's eyes returned to Therien's. "Please, allow a man a chance to express his thanks."

"All right," Therien said at last. "Dinner sounds lovely."

***

"What is that accent?" Mnaer asked once they were on the road. "I have never heard anything like it."

Therien ignored Dra's poorly covered snicker. "I'm French," he replied. "Um, from France."

"In the Mortal realm," Dra added, which seemed to startle Mnaer.

"You're a Mortal? How odd." His study of Therien took on a contemplative air. "I've never been there. Would you say something in your language?"

This was at least a conversation Therien had had many times before. Ever since he'd first gone to America, his accent had been a topic of interest. "Ah, je m'appelle Therien de Mer, et j'aime nager."

Mnaer faked a swoon. "Gorgeous. I have no idea what you said but it sounded incredible."

"I just said my name and that I like to swim." Therien shrugged. "It's just a language."

"Darling, it is not just anything. Maybe in the Mortal realm where they can't appreciate the sound of heaven, but here? The Feywild understands beauty, sweet Therien."

"Is literally everything out of your mouth some kind of flirtation?" Dra asked, irked. "Can't you see he's not interested? Gods."

As she stalked ahead, Mnaer frowned after her, nonplussed. "One never knows unless one tries," he called after her, but then he turned to Therien. "Is that true? Am I bothering you?"

Therien weighed his response carefully. "I don't mind it," he said at last. "But I am not interested in that kind of thing with anyone new."

"Oh. There's someone...not new?"

"I'm on a quest, according to what I've been told here, you see." Therien couldn't stop his soft smile. "I'm off to rescue my True Love."

Mnaer made a small sound of understanding. "She must be the fairest in the land."

"He is," said Therien with a sidelong glance. He didn't miss the way Mnaer brightened at that information. "His name is Andros."

The prince wound his arm through Therien's. "Now, this I must hear. Tell me all about him."

***

#river sea stars #jenny writes #original fiction #mlm #fantasy

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penguiduck · 4 years

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The Relationship Between Online Readers & Writers: Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation

Introduction | Part 1: What is this Relationship? | Part 2: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers | Part 3: A Day in the Life of… | Part 4: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives | Part 5: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation | Part 6: How to Write the Best Feedback | Part 7: Where Does This Leave Us?

Previously, I provided some perspective on why writers require feedback and a sense of appreciation. I believe fostering empathy for the writing process is vital in this relationship between readers and writers online, so understanding why it’s important is the first step. In this chapter, I would like to discuss the implementation of how to show your favorite writers appreciation and provide them motivation so they may continue to update the work that you so enjoy. I will mostly be focusing on feedback in the form of comments or reviews, but will mention a few other alternatives.

First, I’d like to provide a quick breakdown of why leaving feedback should matter to you:

1. It’s polite. It’s common courtesy. If someone took time out of their day to provide you with content you enjoy free of charge, then you should take a few minutes to show your gratitude. For more information on why, refer to Chapter 5: Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives.

2. If anything, it can only help the writer — as such, this directly benefits you, the reader. Feedback is essential to the writing process. If writers do not receive feedback, they may not feel any incentive to continue writing or, at least, continue posting their work online.

3. This is your currency, your contribution to the online community. One-sided relationships are not healthy or productive. To maximize benefits for both parties, writers and readers, readers must also partake. For more information about currency, please refer to Chapter 2: What Is This Relationship?

With that said, let’s continue with things you can do for writers.

1. Leave feedback. This can come in the form of comments or reviews, notes, or even Facebook chats. The medium doesn’t matter so much, though I have heard from some writers that they prefer their feedback to all be in one place, not only for their reference, but also so that others may see it.

Nevertheless, feedback should be personal, specific, and thoughtful.

When constructing a comment, the content of what you write is important. This is your opportunity to show how much you appreciate and admire a writer’s work. You’ve probably heard of the age-old adage “quality over quantity,” and it applies here. Receiving a comment that says “Great! I love this!” or “I like this! Excited for next update!” is nice, but these comments don’t really tell the writer anything. For all they know, these comments could be copied and pasted from one source to the next — there isn’t any evidence in generic comments that readers have even read your work.

Think about something that you love, a hobby perhaps.

Let’s say you’re an artist, and two viewers leave comments on your work:

a) Pretty! Love seeing your work!

b) Oh, wow! Your art is breathtaking. I really love the vibrant colors you use to paint the background. Your characters always have the most expressive eyes — they’re like a portal to the soul. You clearly put a lot of love and effort into this, and it shows.

Which one would more likely motivate you to paint again? See what I mean?

Or, let’s assume that you’re a dancer. You have a performance, and two friends say:

a) That was great!

b) Your performance was amazing. I thought you were absolutely stunning in that dress, and your music selection is spot-on — it really matches your personality. I’d love the opportunity to see your next performance!

Which one would more likely give you warm fuzzies?

All options above took me less than a minute to type, which is far less time than a writer would spend on creating content for you. I encourage you to put yourself in the writer’s shoes when providing feedback. If all you provide are generic comments, do you think writers feel special at all?

How often should you leave feedback? Well, that depends. If the writer updates often, as in multiple times a week, perhaps a comment every other or every few chapters would suffice — I’m sure you are busy, to0, after all, and while I very much appreciate and enjoy reading all comments (they are always so nice to open my email to!), I don’t expect them every update. Then again, if you tend to leave shorter comments that take you no more than two or three minutes to compose, could it really hurt to brighten a writer’s day? If the writer updates less often, once per month, perhaps, then I think it’s good practice to leave a comment each time.

Consider this: I have a fuel tank for my inspiration when it comes to writing. I can run on a near-empty tank, but it’s difficult for me to do, and I struggle with creating content. It’s far easier for me to write and put out quality work when my inspiration tank is full. Every piece of feedback I receive fills it with a certain amount of inspiration.

A quick “Hey, this is really great! Every time you update, I get so giddy!” perhaps adds one measurement of inspiration.

A more detailed “Wow, I liked how you wrote [character name] in that scene — it was spot on! I feel like his personality is so hard to get right, but you really nailed that thought process. His interaction with [character name] really proves that he’s a lot softer than most people think he is!” perhaps adds three to four measurements of inspiration.

Then, a thoughtful “You know, I’m always so impressed with your depiction of [character name]. The cogs in his mind are always turning, and he’s so introspective. I felt that you captured his strategic disposition well here, and I’m eager to see how he’s going to use this newfound information to approach [character name]. I would think that he’d be a little more soft-spoken, though I’m also eager to see him kind of angry and protective. Looking forward to your next update! Your writing is always a treat to read!” could add ten measurements of inspiration.

Ultimately, readers should provide feedback as often as they’d like, knowing that each comment contributes to that inspirational fuel tank for their writers in varying degrees. If you want high quality, muse-filled updates, this feedback is absolutely essential to contributing to that process. This is why writers ask for feedback and are overjoyed to receive it — it is a precious resource that can only come from their dear readers.

One struggle I often hear from readers is that while they appreciate and enjoy my work, they don’t know what to say. But fear not! In the next chapter, I will go into detail on how to write these personal, specific, and thoughtful comments.

2. Leave likes, kudos, loves, whatever the medium of approval is. I would argue this is bare minimum, equivalent to a “Thank you. I like this.” If you received any amount of enjoyment from someone’s hard-wrought work, you owe them this. It is literally a click of the button and will take a fraction of a second.

I’ve seen notes from readers who say that they will never leave a kudo on AO3 content unless the work is finished. This thought process is asinine. I would compare this to you volunteering to help paint a friend’s house over a few days. You offer your labor free of charge, from the kindness of your heart, and your friend refuses to say thank you, buy you lunch, give you refreshments during the week. “I’ll only show you gratitude when you’re finished,” your friend says. This is toxic relationship. DO NOT do this. Give your writers the appreciation they deserve while they are hard at work, not just when they’ve finished. Do not be so emotionally deprived that you refuse to perform a simple task that can only make writers feel good about themselves and their work.

3. Bookmark, subscribe, and follow on social media. While this isn’t direct feedback, per se, each of these adds to a metric and can grant your favorite writer a following.

I normally wouldn’t say that bookmarks show appreciation because they’re more for the reader’s benefit that the writer’s, but I will say that I’ve seen some comments written on bookmarks on my works on AO3 that have really made me smile. Subscribing, again, is more for the benefit of the reader. However, adding to that number does denote a certain level of popularity for that piece of writing. Following your favorite writers on social media is much the same.

4. Fanart. If you are creatively minded, then perhaps you’d like to express your appreciation through artistic means. This goes without saying, but sending a writer a piece of art inspired by their work is flattering. 10/10 will give warm fuzzies. For me, I always welcome fanart and am thrilled to receive it.

5. Word of mouth and referrals. Market your writer’s content for them. You can tell your friends about it or recommend it via social media. It’s always wonderful to hear when new readers find and enjoy your work, and it’s the ultimate compliment, knowing that another reader referred them. If a writer has a Tumblr or Twitter, follow them and reblog or retweet their updates. I think this is a phenomenal way to show that you appreciate them and the hard work they put into their writing.

Of course, these are just a few ways for readers to express appreciation and motivate their favorite writers. If you have any other suggestions or practices, please feel free to leave a comment!

Next up is a tutorial on how to write quality comments. Stay tuned!

Also posted on AO3.

#Writing tips #Writing #writeblr #writers of tumblr #writing advice #Writing tutorials #writing help #writing problems #writing positivity #writing encouragement #writers and readers #readers #writers #currency #feedback #kudos

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