#lfic

[prince-liest]

some personal thoughts on Talk Show 666: Anger Management, partly stolen from my own comment replies to other people:

It's kind of interesting to me every time people perceive Alastor's words to Vox when he's saying things specifically to humiliate him in the context of sex to be excessively cruel, or something to feel bad for on Vox's part. I never intended to write them as something that Vox wasn't, like. Blatantly enjoying, in a very kink-specific way. Granted, it's not the usual humiliation kink dirty talk, because Alastor's idea of dirty talk started at "your bones would look super pretty carved out of your chest" and Vox never corrected him except for to react positively to getting humiliated…

However! Similarly to the way that Alastor wants and enjoys being forced into distress and helplessness as in Livestream 666, Now Presenting: A Love Potion Makes the Medicine Go Down, Vox likes being hurt by Alastor's words. At least, he did until they reached this moment in Talk Show 666: Anger Management where he gets upset with Alastor for talking about how disgusting he used to think Vox's interest in him was. There's a difference between saying "You are [insert humiliating kinky insults]" vs "I think badly of you," especially framed in the context of a time in the past when they actually ended up on bad terms…but Alastor doesn't know what Vox is getting out of this in the first place, and so didn't know this, either.

On the other hand, I do think that some of that perception of feeling bad for Vox probably comes from the same place as people who did read the CNC fic and perceive it as genuine non-con - despite Alastor's repeated initial consent, Vox's check-in, Alastor's utter lack of using any force whatsoever to attempt to escape, and his satisfaction with how things went after the fact. Sometimes you just truly cannot relate to how another person would experience something, especially if you personally find that thing to be a negative experience.

Additionally, at no point has Vox done anything other than encourage the monologuing, including actually discussing it and what he gets out of it. Alastor's been pressing that button like a "say mean things and Vox gets off on it" generator without really having a deeper understanding of why that is, because "I don't get this Sex Thing but it seems to work for him" is how he handles a lot of what they do together in general. That is the intersection where Vox's frequently shitty communication tactics combined with this situation to explode the whole thing in their faces. It was going to happen eventually! Best it happened now, after they did so much processing to get to where they are.

No murder attempts, that's already good!

[littledrummeraussie]

a rare appearance of dom luke please 🧎‍♀️

This is my first ever Luke piece (took me what? 3 years?), and let me tell you, this one was a ride I did not expect at all. The idea came to me almost immediately, but I'm glad I took the time with it because I'm actually really happy how it turned out.

When I was coming up with the title, Personal Jesus came to my mind for maybe obvious reasons, but it did not really fit with the whole story. Until I remembered the version Hilary Duff made out of it, and let me tell you, that was the perfect fit.

This might not be everyone’s taste so I’m sorry? Also, I was heavily inspired by this Luke:

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist? | Christmas Blurb Fest 2022 / I want a blurb too!

reach out & touch me (before i go insane). [a dom!Luke blurb]

warnings: daddydom!Luke. subfem!reader. pet names. daddy kink. fingering in front of a mirror. one little spank. a moment of breath play. Luke is both praising and taunting the reader during their play time. (let me know if I missed anything???)

word count: 1836

----------

“You’re so easy, Angel.”

Luke softly nipped your earlobe, hot puffs of air tickling your skin, making you shiver at every little touch. It always made your knees weak when his voice turned deep and scratchy, so easily switching modes, slipping into the dominant role that he rarely showed to the world. A role that was only reserved for you.

“Lu– please…”

His messy blond curls hung over his forehead, traces of glittery makeup still painted on his skin from the time he was performing. He was still high on adrenaline when he got back home – rushing through his veins, making him dizzy with want and need for you: to touch and tease, to give and take, to wreck you before the night ended.

“That’s not my name.”

It only took him a second, just a look with those darkening blue eyes to have you on your knees, obediently waiting for his orders, always wanting to please him when this side of him came out to play. A little chuckle left his lips, something between sweet and satisfied before crouching down to you to tip your chin up, pressing a kiss on your parted lips. He breathed against your ear, telling you to go to the bedroom and wait for him.

“I–”

You’ve tried to be patient as you kneeled at the end of the bed, waiting for Luke to finally come after you. It felt like an eternity, but finally you heard his steps coming up the stairs, taking his time as he strolled down the hallway, leisurely kicking his boots off like they didn’t cost thousands of dollars. He stopped in the doorway, throwing his suit jacket over a table or a chair, you weren’t sure, just that he towered over you, calling your name to look up at him.

“Say it.”

He looked like a god, or something else out of this world, looking at you like you were a precious little thing that pleased him, something picked out from the masses, so special and beautiful, only fit for a man like him. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, pushing into your mouth and against your tongue, letting you suck it just for a second before he pulled his hand back. A low whine slipped out of you, doe-eyes searching him, pleading to let you get close to him again, to feel him against you, however it pleased him. Luke gave you a sympathetic little noise, almost something like a chuckle or a chiding, your name falling off his lips softly – it made you shiver from head to toe. Luke finally took pity on you and stepped closer, the bulge straining his pants right in front of you as he asked you to help him strip without being too touchy. After all, good girls do as they are told by their–

“Daddy.”

With trembling hands you reached for the button on his pants, tugging down the zipper that was pressing against his boxers, his cock so close and inviting, you just wanted to wrap your lips around the tip that already soaked the thin material right in front of you. You bit your lip to keep those thoughts at bay, always wanting to be so good for him, and instead you pulled on the legs, the pants sliding down on Luke’s hips, pooling around his ankles. He kicked them away, motioning you with just a nod of his head to stand up and help him out of his tank top. Your fingers curled into the hem of his shirt, lifting it up slowly, palms sliding against his warm skin for a second, just to feel him. He grabbed the top and pulled it over his head, throwing it away, standing in front of you in all of his glory. His head dipped down, lips whispering against yours, only a thin circle of blue around his dark pupils.

“Good girl.”

.

Luke’s back way resting against the foot of the bed, long legs stretched out, toes almost touching the mirror standing in front of you. You leaned against his chest, your own legs thrown over his thighs to keep them spread, your panties long forgotten along with Luke’s clothes. He was still wearing his boxers, his cock rubbing against your ass as your hips moved, trying to get him to move, to touch you, to take away the ache deep inside you.

“You’re so easy, Angel,” Luke softly nipped your earlobe, hot puffs of air tickling your skin, making you shiver at every little touch. “Ask nicely.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“There you go, Angel,” he traced his nose against your cheek, kissing it sweetly. “It wasn’t too hard, was it?”

You choked on a moan as his fingers curled against your sweet spot again, his thumb rubbing over your clit in small circles. Your pussy was soaked from the way he teased you, from the way he edged you, the wet noises filling the room and your ears as Luke’s fingers moved in and out of you. Your nails dug into his thighs, eyes closed tightly as you chased your pleasure, head thrown back onto his shoulder as your pleas spilled from your tongue.

“Look at yourself,” he pressed a kiss on your temple, teeth grazing the top of your ear. “Come on, open your eyes and look at yourself.”

For a moment you needed to bury your face against his neck, knowing the sight will make you feel embarrassed and turned on at the same time. Luke was right – you were so easy to play with. You loved him for bringing out this side of you. With a soft whine you finally opened your eyes, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your walls clenching around Luke’s fingers at what you saw.

Your eyes flickered between your boyfriend’s face as he watched you in the mirror and his hand moving between your thighs, fingers pulling out of you and spreading you open, your lips puffy and the most beautiful shade, drenched with your arousal. He pushed back in again, his rings cold against your sensitive skin where you were wrapped around his fingers, making something tighten in your core. He must have felt it too, suddenly teasing a third finger against your hole, making you grind against his palm.

“Daddy… Daddy please, please… I wanna… I wanna… Please Daddy…”

Luke growled at your begging, hips bucking forward at his name, rubbing his hard dick against your ass, the wet spot growing where the precum soaked his boxers. The fingers on his free hand curled into the top of your sleep shirt, tugging it lower on your chest, his grip so strong that soon you heard the thin material rip, your tits spilling out. It made you trash against him, so lost in your pleasure, not sure if you wanted to press forward against his hand or fall back and melt against his chest, giving up all control and letting him do as he pleased.

You suddenly felt empty, his fingers disappearing from inside you, and a whimper escaped you at the loss of his touch, your brain already trying to string together a sentence or at least a fragment of it to beg him for release. Not even a second later Luke’s hands curled under your thighs, gripping you and pulling your body back against his chest, and somewhere in the back of your mind you realized you must have slipped down, not being able to keep yourself up anymore. His palm was running all over your skin, one hand finally settling back between your thighs, fingers massaging your clit, while the other grabbed one of your tits, pinching your nipple. Teeth bit down on your neck, leaving a faint mark as he hungrily kissed and licked the soft skin, his fingers never stopping on your body.

The hand on your tit gave one last pinch to your nipple before sliding up on your sternum, fingers wrapping around your neck, and you choked on your next words as Luke softly gripped your throat, leaning closer to your ear, his whispers so close it was like he became the voice inside your head.

“Lu– Daddy, please, I’m–”

“What’s that, Angel? Hmm?” his voice was syrupy and warm like honey, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. “Is my baby not satisfied? Does she need more? Oh baby, is it not enough, what Daddy already gave you? So insatiable.”

His fingers tapped your clit before suddenly giving a quick little spank to your pussy, the pain and the pleasure travelling up your spine and making your thighs clench together, if it weren’t for Luke’s legs keeping you spread open. A second later his fingers slipped back inside you, steadily going in and out as his other hand travelled up to your face, grabbing your chin and squishing your cheeks, your lips falling open in a perfectly shaped O.

“Keep your eyes on me, Angel,” Luke’s lips dragged against your temple, leaving an open-mouth kiss on your hair. “And cum for me.”

It felt too much, the way his fingers were rubbing your sweet spot, palm grinding against your clit with every stroke, how he kept your head in place against his chest, eyes locked in an intense stare, those baby blue eyes now dark and full of lust, his words praising and taunting you at the same time until your vision blurred, back arching and toes lifting off the floor, hand grabbing at his wrist between your legs as you finally came, your whole body shaking from the powerful orgasm rushing through your veins.

“There you go, Angel. So beautiful,” Luke’s voice was soft around the edges, fingers slowing down as he worked your through your pleasure, helping you start to come down from your high. “Look at you, such a piece of art, baby.”

You sagged against his chest, feet finally lowering and resting against Luke’s legs as you tried to find the willpower to open your eyes, still shaking from the way his fingers were softly playing you. When you finally looked up you could see in the mirror how wrecked you looked, spread open in Luke’s lap, his fingers petting through your soaked folds, red nails glistening with your arousal, the shade against your pussy looking like an art piece, just like your boyfriend said it.

He left soft, sweet little kisses on your cheek and jaw, fingers running through your hair as he cradled you in his arms, his words praising you for being his good girl, such a perfect Angel, so absolutely beautiful for his Daddy. You whimpered softly when your felt his caresses on your thigh running too close to your pussy, his pinky finger brushing against a spot that instantly made you shiver. Luke chuckled above you, voice even lower than before as he breathed against your ear.

“Aww, sensitive?” he tutted lightly, lips pressing against your temple as he whispered. “Too bad, Angel. We’re just getting started.”

----------

@mymindwide @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj

[windor-truffle]

the inspiration for my most recent WIP, some good ol angsty hurt-comfort for a Richard who's trapped in the form of the monster he let himself become

[emeralddoeadeer]

1, 6 and 23 for the writing asks!

Hello, Thanks for the ask :)

1 - the last sentence you wrote

Between them, they sample a little of everything.

6 - the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

Sirius and when appear within 2% of each other... (From the next chapter of no place like home)

23 - pick three keywords that describe your writing

answered here <3

Fic writer asks here!

[boyinafandom]

PLEASE I. A T WITH THIS FUCKIB. LFIC BRO

[yourlocalmechanism-dr-carmilla]

Lfic idea

Still thinking about a dream I had

So Ashes was doing their normal mob boss routine and Jonny was bored so decided to do some work under them,

Jonny had to do a report (I’m pretty sure he was kneeling) for ashes and they both just got a little weird about it

There was also a bunch of other underling who were just stood there a little uncomfortable watching the interaction

[thekracken]

me:

my brain, evil: leverage old guard au

eliot’s the oldest. he doesn’t remember when he was born, or where, but he’s lived longer than he’s ever wanted to.

he finds sophie in the late 10th century. they revolve around each other for a few centuries, neither staying together or venturing too far apart. she saves him, once, and never lets him live it down.

they find each other when they dream of nate in the 1300s. eliot steals sophie away from the play she’d snuck into and looks away as she changed out of her trousers into a favored dress.

“do you know where he is?” she asks, like she didn’t get the same dream he did; nothing but grief, the night sky, the slice of a blade on thin skin, and then nothing at all.

“im thinking he’s north,” he says anyways and she raises an eyebrow. he sighs heavily and crosses his arms.

“the stars were a little off.”

“the stars,” sophie says, voice familiarly teasing.

“it’s distinct,” he grumbles and grabs her bag over his shoulder.

-

they find nate drowning in grief, killing himself over and over again. they spend a few years with him, living together, just to make sure nate lives through first a single day, then a week, then a month. they sit beside him as he cries for his son, for his wife, and help him rebuild on sand. it’s not the best, but it’s enough, and the glint in nate’s eye may be too hard, but at least it’s there.

-

eliot leaves, sophie stays behind. he can tell from the set of sophie’s shoulders that she’s going to force him into shape and eliot decides he won’t go too far, just in case.

when sophie runs, nate chases, and eliot follows behind to make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.

and it’s just the three of them for a long time. they don’t always live together, but sometimes they do; the three of them tucked away in some hole or in some overpriced hotel. sometimes it’s just eliot and sophie, breaking into parties and stealing whatever catches sophie’s attention. sometimes it’s just eliot and nate, eating cold takeout on a dusty floor trying to make peace with whatever it is they are.

-

it’s early in the 21 century when nate snaps. the world has always been nasty, but it’s becoming easier and easier to learn about it all.

his first con, fighting against the injustice of a child’s needless murder, swept under the rug to protect a ceo, is sloppy and reckless and eliot has to drag nate’s dead body away to safety until he can regenerate.

eliot’s furious. sophie’s furious. nate’s drunk. eliot can’t let nate go off halfcocked again, and so they make a plan.

the next con is good. the third is even better. soon they work like a well oiled machine. they’re not always subtle, but eliot’s long grown used to being the boogieman and so if he exists in some dark, hidden file tucked away amongst the world’s secrets, then so be it.

-

meeting parker was an accident. meeting hardison was intentional.

-

parker had been stealing something priceless, eliot kept swiping it out of her bag to put back. initially, he was correcting a wrong, but then it morphed into some kind of game between the two; and then parker started showing up on their jobs, squirreling something of his away when he wasn’t looking. a watch here, a walkie there. nothing that would get him killed, but enough that he’d notice. then one day he finds her in his apartment, eating plain cereal out of a box, sitting on his counter and all she says is, “you should get something more colorful next time,” around a mouthful of bran flakes. suddenly, their little group of three immortals grows by one mortal.

-

hardison tracks them down through the internet. he whistles upon breaking into their meeting place and raises his hands in peace. “y’all really need cyber security, huh?” eliot likes him instantly. gutsy, cocky, genius. the kid could be a huge asset. sophie’s excited to grow their little trio even further and nate, though clearly annoyed, does nothing but offer hardison a mocking salute and down his glass of whiskey.

-

they’re working together for three months before parker kicks her feet against eliot’s thigh until he looks away from the book he’s reading and up at her.

“what?” he asks gruffly and she frowns, bites her lip and presses it into a thin line.

“you don’t die,” she says. it’s not a question, but not fully a statement and eliot’s heart pounds in his chest.

“no,” he agrees cautiously. he could lie, but he hates doing that to strangers, refuses to do it to parker.

“how?” and eliot sighs, marks his page, and explains everything to her.

-

eliot tells nate and sophie what parker knows. habit tells them to run, but instinct tells them to wait it out, and when angry mobs don’t burst through their doors, and parker doesn’t vanish in the night, the decide it’s time to tell hardison.

hardison pauses for half a second, then finishes pushing the chip he’d been about to eat into his mouth.

“yeah, i know,” he says and eliot frowns, looks over to nate, who’s wearing a matching expression, and sophie, who’s eyebrows are high in surprise.

“you... know?” nate asks and hardison shrugs, leaning back with a wide grin that eases something in eliot’s chest.

“i was serious when i said you needed cyber security. most governments knew about you,” he says and eliot blinks.

“knew?”

“what,” hardison asks with a laugh, “you think i’d just let them keep the family secrets?” and eliot grows warm.

-

he hasn’t been close to a mortal since the early days of his second life. he’s a little terrified of how these two will ruin him, but he truly wouldn’t change a thing.

-

they’re in the middle of a con and parker is dangling ten stories in the air by her finger tips. her harness is secured around her torso, but it’s a little comfort when the harness itself is hooked onto nothing.

she can’t find any traction for her feet, any leverage for her hands to gain a better hold, and she looks over her shoulder at the thin grass below her. the team is in her ear and if they weren’t in their own danger they might be able to rescue her. as it is, she’s on her own.

taking a deep breath, she lets go.

she curls herself into a ball and hopes she doesn’t make a sound when her body crunches into the ground.

-

eliot’s exit is hot when he spots her. parker’s in a crumpled heap on the grass and without warning his eyes go up to the ledge he’d known parker had climbed out on.

unwilling to escape his pursuers and abandon her, he turns and fights and dies and fights some more, until he’s the last man standing. he runs over to her and skids to his knees beside her.

“parker? c’mon parker, wake up,” he says, tone tense and frantic. he can’t hear the others questioning in his ear, but he can’t focus on that. he finds a racing pulse and his hands roam over her body, checking for breaks or wounds. he gently feels along her neck, making sure the delicate vertebrae were aligned before he carefully picks her up in his arms.

“pull the van around,” he orders. “parker’s unconscious.”

there’s more chatter in his ear but all he can care about is the rise and fall of her chest.

-

parker comes to in the car with a sharp gasp and wince.

“what was that?” she rasps out, rubbing at her shoulder absentmindedly.

“that was a ten story fall,” eliot growls and parker’s eyes narrow in thought.

“huh,” she says and then gives a wild smile, “i’ve never fallen from that high before.”

-

hardison’s running.

he knows the rest of the team is somewhere nearby, but he’s lost his flashlight and gotten disoriented and is unwilling to disclose his own location to his pursuers by shouting for them. he can hear the sounds of crashing waves and he moves towards it, hoping that at least near the water he’ll be able to orient himself.

he’s just stepped into the small space between the forest and a cliffs edge when he hears debris snap behind him. he spins and sees the shadowy outline of a man holding a gun.

hardison takes a step back towards the angry ocean behind him.

“on your knees,” the man says sharply and hardison swallows hard. talk about a rock and hard place.

“you know,” he starts to say, but the sound of a gun cocking cuts him off.

“i’m not asking again.”

well. if he’s going to die, it’s going to be on his terms.

he twists, throwing himself backwards and he thinks he hears his name being called before the sound of a gunshot rings into the night air and he hits the water with a gasp.

-

eliot has just enough time to watch hardison fall backwards into empty space before he reaches the gunman. he knocks into the man like an unstoppable force and wrestles him to the ground. it’s a fight, but eliot knocks him unconscious before running to the cliffs edge where he last saw hardison.

eliot grabs the flashlight from his pocket and flicks it on into the dark waves below.

“hardison!” he yells and waits for a reply. his heart’s pounding in his chest and his breath catches in his throat. he wasn’t even supposed to be out here! rage makes his hands shake.

“hardison!” he shouts again. he can hear people moving in the woods behind him and he hopes it’s his team moving towards his location. he opens his mouth to shout again, when he spots him.

hardison’s belly-down, rising and falling with the waves, moving ever closer to the sharp rock wall.

there’s no time to get down there safely. eliot pockets his flashlight and jumps.

he’s able to angle his legs to slice into the icy waters and break his fall, but what he isn’t able to account for is the strength of the waves when he’s disoriented and trying to find which way’s up. the waves snatch him and slam him in every direction. eliot takes in a lungful of salt water when his head smacks into the wall, and everything goes black.

-

eliot wakes quickly. he struggles against the current and fishes his flashlight out of his pocket. he tries to blink the burning water out of his eyes and breathe as he looks around once more for hardison’s body.

he sputters as he’s shaken by the tides and then could shout when he spots him. eliot swims out to him, fighting with everything in him to reach hardison, praying to a god he doesn’t believe in anymore that he’s made it in time. he flips the man over and miraculously, hardison sputters, coughing weakly as more water splashes into his mouth.

“you’re okay,” eliot tries to say. “i’ve got you, you’re okay.” he’s not sure if he can be heard, but it makes him feel better nonetheless.

it feels like it takes years, but he’s able to keep them both afloat and pulled to the side, where eliot can drag hardison onto semi-dry land.

hardison’s still. so still.

eliot struggles to catch his breath as he crawls over him, leaning down and pressing a hand to his chest. his heart pounds in his ears and eliot shifts, readying his hands over hardison’s sternum. he rises to do the first set of chest compressions when hardison’s chest follows his hands, and then his whole torso is jerking as he coughs up water from his lungs.

relief sweeps through eliot so strongly he feels dizzy with it. immediately, his hands are on hardison, helping him elevate so he can cough without suffocating himself and eliot rubs his arms soothingly.

“you’re okay, hardison, you’re okay,” eliot says and he’s not sure which of them he’s trying to convince.

-

when the immortals sleep, they have normal dreams. sometimes they’re nightmares, sometimes they’re not, but they’re never the inky splashes that indicate they’re viewing life through someone else’s eyes.

they don’t need to. they already found each other.

now with a sequel 

[atclocks]

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[mayiayi]

Modern day Wangxian where Lan Wangji is peer pressured into downloading tinder by his own brother. At first it was really boring- what is the use of swiping based off of looks? If anyone asked Lan Wangji, tinder was bad for mental health. So he eventually stopped using it, he couldn’t even remember if he swiped correctly, he didn’t really care for looks, he didn’t even care to date if he was being completely honest with himself.

“Have you found anyone you are interested in, Wangji?” Lan Xichen had asked Lan Wangji one day. They were sat facing each other, both eating a new dish that Lan Xichen has learned during one of his cooking classes that he so spontaneously decided to take. Something Lan Wangji would never do.

“No.” Was the answer Lan Wangji gave to his brother. Lan Xichen didn’t hide his small smile. He loved his brother, he hoped tinder would be a good way to help him find friends and maybe even a lover.

That night, Lan Wangji decides to give tinder another shot. He opened up the app, and despite how he disagreed with judging people by their looks, he swiped right in the people he bought we nice looking or the people who had interested bio’s. When he was about to exit out of the app and go to sleep, the guy with a big smile caught his eye. Wei Wuxian. That was his name. Lan Wangji stared at the picture feeling a little gross at how he felt a little excited.

Wei Wuxian is the name. If you like cuddles and movies, swipe right. Let’s get together for some drinks and movie watching. I hope you aren’t allergic to bunnies because I have two.

Lan Wangji immediately swiped in a bit of excitement. He felt his lips tug into a smile, he hoped this guy would match with him.

The smile wiped off of Lan Wangji’s face when he realized he accidentally swiped left instead of right. Lan Wangji has never cursed in his life. In all of his 23 years of life, he had never once even thought of letting out a string of curses- tonight however, Lan Wangji let out a loud “fuck!”

He swiped left on the guy who managed to give him hope that this app wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Wei Wuxian. How was he going to find him now?

[outerspace-iiinnerspace]

WIP Sunday

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs. 

tagged by @a-big-apple (sorta)

i am really Not a writer except for fr stuff so a lot of these are never intended to be finished/published so yknow. why not why not!

- lfic

- the tea party

- not gonna finish this one but i dont wanna delete it either

- AML

- LX

- the gang’s all back together again

 - GAY REBELS IN A POND

- Lk deleted scene

- Bon1

i am also wimping out on the tagging thing so if you want to do it please consider yourself tagged! if you say i tagged you i will send an ask for Sure

[littledrummeraussie]

still have like 6 bullet points to finish, so dom!Luke drops sometimes tomorrow

depending on timezones and stuff

[batman-mustache]

Diarmuid, son of Donn

Ever since I got into Fate, my favorite character has always been Diarmuid ua Duibhne from Fate/Zero (what can I say, I’m a sucker for tragic heroes). After finishing the series, I was curious about the actual mythology, and starting from his Wikipedia page, I moved on to reading as many variations of The Pursuit as I could. My interest only grew over time and I moved onto his other exploits, like “The Daughter of the King Under-Wave” and “The Hostel of the Quicken Trees.” While there’s contradictions between certain stories, which is to be expected with mythology, there are general core aspects consistent throughout. 

But one aspect of his legend I cannot verify anywhere.

I’ve seen many people assert, as well as Diarmuid’s Wikipedia page itself, that Diarmuid is actually a demigod. They claim that his father is Donn, the lord of the Dead, of the Tuatha de Danann. Which is a neat idea... if I could find a single source backing it up.

Now don’t get me wrong, in every source I’ve found, Diarmuid is always listed as the son of Donn. But, and here’s the important distinction--it never specifies which Donn. There’s loads of Donns all over the place: Donn, son of Midhir, Donn, son of Miled, Donn and Dubhan sons of the King of Ulster--you get the idea. Donn, or the Dark One, is listed as a son or foster-son of the Dagda (although he may have originally been an iteration of him). 

The Dagda is a pretty big deal in Irish mythology, and generally whenever any character is related to him, it’s specified, such as Diarmuid’s foster father, Aengus:

Yet, Donn in the “The Pursuit” is never listed as the Dagda’s son. In fact, Diarmuid is always referred as the grandson of Duibhne (hence ua Duibhne), and his mother, Crochnuit, is listed as the daughter of Currach (although it’s a moot point, as only the father’s father ever seems to matter when they list genealogy). But wait? What if the Dagda was just Donn’s foster father and Duibhne is the real father of Donn. Well, if you can find a source, sure, but I can’t find anything connecting Donn of the Tuatha de Danann to a person named Duibhne. As it is, besides a single website with no source, I cannot find anything corroborating Wikipedia’s claim. Going further, in one version I found, Donn is referred to as Donn O’Donnchudha (grandson of Donnchudha).

No mention of the Tuatha de Danann in that family tree.

One consistency about Donn, the father of Diarmuid, that I’ve found is that he was a member of the Fianna that was outlawed after a quarrel. 

(For some reason he’s called Bonn here)

This makes it even odder if he were the Donn of the Tuatha de Danann, since yes, the Fianna would interact with them sometimes, but they weren’t actually members of the Fianna. They both just kind of hated the Fomorians. 

In one of the most extensive collections of Fenian myths, “Gods and Fighting Men” by Lady Gregory, Donn the Dark One does appear. But he’s referred to in a different way than how Diarmuid’s father is presented.

Why wouldn’t Diarmuid’s father be referred to the same way? Why would no myth make any allusion that Diarmuid is the son of the Dark One? And since none do, how did this claim come to be? Could it really be that someone saw the name Donn and assumed it had to be the same Donn as the one from the Tuatha de Danann?

In a way, I actually like the idea that Diarmuid’s dad was just a regular dude, meaning Diarmuid had no divine ancestry. He certainly had enough supernatural influences in his life considering he was the foster son of Aengus Og and was trained by Manannan (and potentially the warrior woman, Mongfinn, but I’ve only ever seen two places that claim this, and I can’t find a source for either). I like that he’s just a dude who can slay entire armies. Mythology is full of guys who are just Like That.

Now, I’m not claiming I know everything. Maybe someone out there has the source that shows Diarmuid really is descended from the Lord of the Dead. But for me, I’ve yet to see it.

Sources: 1) “The Pursuit of Gilla Decair” http://www.yorku.ca/inpar/gilla_ogrady.pdf

2) The Project Gutenberg EBook of Gods and Fighting Men, by Lady I. A. Gregory https://www.gutenberg.org/files/14465/14465-h/14465-h.htm

3) Celtic Literature Collective “The Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne” https://www.maryjones.us/ctexts/diarmuid.html

4) LibraryIreland https://www.libraryireland.com/celtic-past/pursuit-diarmuid-grainne.php and https://www.libraryireland.com/celtic-past/death-diarmuid-oduibhne.php

5) O’Regan’s Athenry-Athenry History Archive http://homepage.eircom.net/~oreganathenry/oreganathenry/mythology/diarmuid-and-grainne.html

6) Toruigheacht Dhiarmuda Agus Ghrainne https://books.google.fr/books?hl=fr&lr=&id=OrUsAQAAMAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA1&dq=Diarmuid+Ua+Duibhne&ots=vJEDhxrrlM&sig=JcBO5BewOUxpvLCZ7J-fU6sqEBY#v=onepage&q=donn&f=false

7) “Pursuit of Diarmuid and Grainne” https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/celt/lfic/lfic062.htm

8) https://archive.org/stream/truigheachtdhi01sociiala/truigheachtdhi01sociiala_djvu.txt

9) http://cbladey.com/irish/darmuid.html

10) https://bardmythologies.com/diarmuid-and-grainne/

11) http://emeraldisle.ie/diarmuid-and-grainne

12) https://www.uni-trier.de/fileadmin/forschung/projekte/ZAT/CEL/17icm.pdf

13) https://www.connollycove.com/tuatha-de-danann/

[aqueermenagerie]

Use Your Words by zedi

Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: One Direction (Band) Relationship: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

read it on ao3

[argyle-s]

Same anon who butt into the conversation. I get it from a fanfic standpoint. I also have a lot of non-canon ships. On some level, characters get re-written by fans to fit their own perception. That's why fanon stuff exist. I was thinking more of canon and fans' refusal to accept the truth. Also the double-standard. When it was Mon-El doing the shitty things, he got called out on it by the fans. With Lena, it's like rose-colored glasses on steroids. Which led to the character/fandom bias point.

Before people call me out, full disclosure, I ship Kalex and SuperFlash. I only mentioned Mon-El as an example for the fandom double-standard. I agree that the writers are partly to blame for Lena’s shit going largely unchecked. I’m hoping that changes this season since everything is supposed to come to a head. It would be incredibly irresponsible of them not to because it’s like supporting and encouraging bad, borderline abusive behavior. That’s not how friendships are supposed to be at all.

I’m still going to go back to Investment in the ship.  I *haven’t* read a lot of Karam*l stuff (I’ve read none) but my perception is that it wasn’t the Karam*l shippers calling out Mon-El for the shit he did.  I could be wrong, but my perception of it is that Karam*l got treated by the fans a lot like CaptainSw*n in the OUAT fandom, where the people who shipped it ignored what an ass Hook was 99% of the time.

The difference is, are a *LOT* of Superc*rp shippers.  Superc*rp is pretty monolithic within the Supergirl fandom.  To give you an idea, let’s look at some stats.

Sanvers has 5324 fics tagged on AO3Dansen has 153 fics tagged on AO3Supercorp has 10030 fics tagged on AO3Guardiancorp has 68 fics tagged on AO3Karam*el has 1068 fics tagged on AO3

Of the Sanvers fics, 1637 are also tagged Superc*rpOf the Dansen fics, 44 are also tagged Superc*rpOf the Guardiancorp fics, 37 are also tagged Superc*rpOf the Karam*l fics, 120 are also tagged Superc*rpOf the Karam*lfics, 130 are also tagged Sanvers

for control purposes, we’ll be eliminating double tagged fics for this (which really isn’t the best control, but it is the simplest), which leaves is with:

3557 Sanvers fics109 Dansen fics31 Guardiancorp fics818 Karam*l fics8229 Superc*rp fics

Now, for comparison’s sake, in OUAT fandom, once you control for double tagging, you have:

11567 SwanQueen fics9810 CaptainSw*n fics

Put Simply, Superc*rp comes pretty damn close to doubling the number of fics available for the four canon relationships, two of which are wlw ships.  To come close to the number of Superc*rp fics, you have to add all of the canon ships listed above, plus the other big non-canon ships like SuperCat, General Danvers, AgentReign and Kalex, and once you control for double tagging, I’m not at all sure you’d catch up.

The ship wars in OUAT were vicious, largely because there was near parity in terms of the size of the different fandoms.  A lot of the reason you see less people willing to call out Superc*rp is because it isn’t a ship war, it’s a dog pile.

Lena doesn’t get called out on her bullshit because so much of the Supergirl fandom is so heavily invested in Superc*rp, and so willing to savage anyone who does call out Lena’s bullshit, that a lot of people have just walked away from the fandom in disgust, and a lot of other people have created isolated pocket communities where they can ship in peace (and even some of those aren’t really safe places to discuss how toxic Lena and Kara’s friendship is, because if you start talking about how toxic Lena is, the multishippers will start crying foul).  And honestly, it’s not even limited to pointing out the toxicity in the relationship.  If you point out, if you even imply, that Lena is not the most important relationship in Kara’s life (Alex always has been and always will be), they will pile all.

To give you an example, someone once made a post about Kara overhearing someone talking about how “Supergirl straps” and suggesting the idea that Kara would ask Lena what it meant.  All I did was point out that it was far more likely that Kara would ask *Alex* what that meant, because Kara goes to Alex for questions about human stuff she doesn’t understand.  I got jumped by a pack of Superc*rp fans and got called a “Granny stanning fuck”.

tldr;  People don’t call Lena out on her fuckery because the Superc*rp fandom is full of assholes who will bully and abuse you doing so.

[carlobattisti]

New Year, new Facilitators.

New Year, new Facilitators.

I nuovi Facilitator del Living Future Italy Collaborative.

(English text follows)

Cambio alla guida del Collaborative italiano della rete Living Future. A cinque anni dalla fondazione siamo lieti di dare il benvenuto ai nuovi Facilitator italiani, Marco Rossato e Matteo Dalla Libera, che dopo una procedura di selezione sono stati approvati nel nuovo ruolo per il biennio 2020-2021 dal comitato di…

[peebls]

I was perusing the wing grooming tag on ao3 and I found fan lfic for the holy bible itself and if there's not something so visceral and galaxy brained about that