#ratbag/reader

[birdyisthewordyy]

Hello!!! I've been reading your MW posts lately and I honestly love the way you write. I was wondering if I could make a request on how the crew would react if they received a random tickle attack.

(preferably by the reader)

a/n: hello nonny!! This is sooo sweet thank you so much :D always glad to make people happy with my work!!

Tulpar crew reacting to receiving a random tickle attack

Curly

Let’s be honest

He would be the one tickling you probably

But on the rare occasion you catch him off guard he will bust out laughing

Has the deepest manliest laugh too

Like you’re lowkey giving him goo goo eyes because of how beautiful he sounds

“You little ratbag!!”

Chases you around

The other crew members are like ???

Why are they giggling and chasing each other like little kids

Definitely gets you back

And shows no mercy either

You were weak…

But he will not be

You’re crying by the end of it

Don’t mess with the Curly monster

Jimmy

Oh god

If you can even touch him it’s a good day

Let alone tickle this man

If you by some miracle manage to spring a tickle attack on him he’ll be disgusted let’s be real

“The fuck are you doing? Quit it!!”

He’s actually extremely ticklish though

Has an evil villain laugh

Straight up like “muahahaha”

Hearing him laugh extended your lifespan by 20 years though

Truly healing experience

He will punch you to get you off of him

“Fuck off. Don’t do that again.”

Finds himself smiling after though

He’s not sure why

He hated that

Or did he…..

Daisuke

You and Daisuke already prank each other all the time

You are constantly getting into mischief with each other

So of course you hit him with a tickle attack

Has the goofiest laugh

“HeheheHAUGH HAUGH HAUGH”

Begs for mercy dramatically

You barely even did anything

Extremely ticklish

He will also get you back

Has one of those long sticks with the finger on it

Pokes you with it

Also loves to tickle you just randomly in general

He thinks your laugh is adorable

If you’re not ticklish he’ll still try

He is a man on a mission

Swansea

Swansea?

Ticklish?

Maybe when he was like 20

This old man is too tired to giggle at your antics

“Kid I lost all feeling in my neck when I was 40”

“Then how are you standing?”

“…shut up.”

He will eventually crack and let out a chuckle

Not because it tickles

Because your earnest efforts are cute

Pats your head

“Go run along and do something else, yeah?”

Doesn’t get you back but thinks about it

He likes your laugh a lot

Anya

Please god do not spring it on her

She will scream in terror

If done right she will giggle

And she also has a very funny giggle

Penny from that one scene in TAWOG

Reminds her of when she was a little kid

Used to love being tickled

Would ask her parents to tickle her all the time

She doesn’t want to get you back because “that’d be mean”

She understands other people don’t like it most of the time

Bonus she loves your jokes

Bad jokes in general just make her laugh

“If you can make her laugh and giggle, you can make that booty shake and jiggle”

“HEEEEEELP”

She says help out loud

Me too girl me too

[mattnott]

meet the writer + rules ⊹₊⟡⋆

hi hi! my name is zoya, but you can call me zya or come up with your own nickname for me!!

about me: i’m an adult, a leo, ravenclaw, and i currently live in europe. my first language is portuguese, my second is spanish, and i’m in my last year of college studying political science and international relations.

hobbies: i’m an ice skater, i make music, play guitar, plus enjoy reading and writing (tho slowly, because i’m a slow person in everything).

likes: i’m really into dark stuff—gothic, blood, and especially talking about cannibalism (i know, a bit weird, but i love it). i’m into history, greek mythology, astronomy. i’m also a huge fan of ballet, horror movies, especially the gory ones, and tim burton’s films are also a huge favorite, though i also have an obsession with tbosas and the sb as well.

favorite artists: allison ponthier, ethel cain, beabadoobee, madilyn mei, arctic monkeys, ricky montgomery, mitski, laufey, kate bush, ratbag, hozier, and the neighbourhood.

rules:

if you’re a minor, please unfollow me. most of my work is +18 and has specific kinks that some might find disturbing. plus, a lot of what i reblog includes gore and other things not suitable for anyone under 18.

i don’t write incest, virgin characters (including the reader), specific body types, deceases and noncon.

my asks are always open if you want to chat; i love responding to any questions or messages you send my way, so feel free to talk or rant.

do not send me a request and then send another writer the same request this is disrespectful to both me and the other person.

my profile isn’t a safe space for rude or mean people. if you have an issue with any content, that’s not my problem—just block me or others who post similar content. sending me anon hate won’t change anything and definitely won’t make me feel guilty about something i didn’t even write.

!!! you’re responsible for your own media consumption

[urukbignaturals]

I wanna write Yandere Bruz and Yandere Ratbag with the reader but like... I'm kinda dry on ideas... I'll type what I have in case later I get inspired...

Yandere Ratbag the Coward:

Stalker-ish yandere. He watches you a lot from afar. He isn't always the sneakiest but sometimes he leaves you presents and you chalk it up to him being shy.

What presents? Things he hunted (mostly dead rats, though he occasionally gets you rabbits and little birds), shiny rocks, the ears of stronger Uruks he totally killed on his own (aren't you impressed?), weapons also scavenged from those he totally killed...

He one time wanted to show you he could be a good mate by taking care of you, so he intentionally poisoned (he is such a genius) one of your meals. Despite his best efforts, he found out he wasn't at all a great medic or caretaker, so he had to beg Talion for help. Don't worry- you'll end up being fine, but the scare was so big that for weeks he hugged you tightly as he sniffed...

He knows he can't protect you but he has a big, strong olog friend AND the Grave Walker, so he definitely bothers them often, asking them to take care of you...

Ratbag may be the reason Talion and Az-Harto/Ranger become yanderes too.

Yandere Bruz the Chopper:

Some have already done some good interpretations for him, I'm not sure I have much to add LOL.

Bruz is definitely a clingy and manipulative yandere.

Like others have said- you must be at the very least in eyesight. He gets very anxious whenever he can't see you. He knows how dangerous Uruks and ologs are! What if another claimed you as theirs? Bruz can't allow that.

He has employed other Uruks to ambush you when you are alone, only for him to come out and save you. That way you'll be more inclined to stay close...

Cuddles. Many, many cuddles. He won't let you sleep alone and he simply can't sleep if you aren't in the safety of his arms.

Gets jealous of everything and everyone. Why are you talking to that coward? He is there! What's with you and the ranger? Isn't he good enough? Why are you sitting in that chair??? His lap is free! etc, etc, etc.

Might "accidentally" touch you inappropriately, "I'm sorry, little one, it's just that my hands are so big and your body is so small!".

Also, he "accidentally" marks you. "I meant to give ya a love nibble- sorry for the bite mark, sorry!" "Oh no, did I leave that bruise? I need to relax my grip, are you in pain? Let me help..." "Wanna spar? I'll be gentle this time.... besides, so far you haven't gotten a single scar! (yet)"

He lies to keep you on his side. "I heard Ratbag saying this", "I saw Talion rummaging through your things", "The Warchief asked Talion if he could keep you as a pet- and Talion said he would consider it! How rude!", "I need to warn you, that orc that asked to chat with you? Has a bet with other orcs on how quickly he can get in your bed..."

[angelswing236]

"I saw your eyes light up."

Fictober 24 challenge

Fandom: Downton Abbey

Fanfiction

‘Don’t.’

Mary shot a look at Tom as he put his hand on her arm and shook his head. ‘Don’t what?’

‘Don’t say what I think you’re about to say.’

‘You don’t know what I was about to say,’ she protested.

‘Yes, I do.’

‘How? Are you suddenly a mind reader?’

‘I don’t need to be. I saw your eyes light up.’

‘Pfft, I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she bluffed.

‘So, you weren’t going to say something mean about Edith?’ he asked, quirking a disbelieving eyebrow.

‘Well, I… so what if I was?’ she blustered, irked and slightly taken aback that he knew exactly what she’d been about to say.

Tom sighed. ‘She’s your sister, Mary. Can you not find it in your heart to be nice to and about her for more than, I don’t know, a tenth of the time?’

Mary scowled. ‘I am nice to her more than that.’

He gave her a sceptical look.

‘I am!’ she insisted. ‘I didn’t point out her obvious faux pas at dinner the other night, did I?’

‘Not to her, but you did to me. At great length.’

‘Yes, well, that doesn’t count because I didn’t say it to her face.’

‘And that’s better, is it?’

‘I can say it to her face if you want me to, Tom,’ she said, a wicked smile on her lips.

‘I don’t want you to say it at all.’

‘You mean you want me to go against the grain? Against years of instinct? I’m not sure I can.’

‘Try,’ he said, firmly.

‘And if I don’t? Or if I can’t?’

‘You’ll have to find someone else to unburden yourself to.’

‘Now who’s being mean?’ she pouted.

‘Your choice.’

‘Fine. But can I just say – ’

‘No.’

‘Ratbag.’

‘Sweet talker.’

‘Still friends?’

‘Always.’

[awkwardkindatries]

     It had started as a joke more to ease yourself. It wasn't exactly easy being captured by a troop of orcs and drug back to their encampment. Finding yourself separated from the others taken even less so but it had granted you the opportunity to meet Ratbag. Easy to joke with him about how your hands were already bound behind your back and how you were on your knees. Be easy to help him as long as he let you free after. You hadn't needed to hear his excited agreement with how intently he had watched the teasing words leave your lips. That's how you found yourself with your back pressed to the tree and on your knees. Your hands tied still but now caged in by the eager orc above you as well.

     The bobbing member he'd released from his pants so much longer than you had thought he'd be. Sure to reach the back of your throat but at least not thick enough to hurt your jaw. "go on, I thought you were going to earn your freedom~" his already breathless voice was what had stirred you from thoughts on if you could really take him.  He was so needy and you had done nothing yet, an unexpected thrill shooting down your back that steeled your nerves. The first touch of your lips coming in a chaste kiss to the head and met with a soft whine and a buck of his hips. Such a simple sound yet it brought a warmth you hadn't expected, starting to pool in your lower belly.

      The second kiss pulled much the same reaction from him. You didn't pull away from the way he bucked this time though. Allowing him to press past your lips and into the warmth of your mouth with a soft moan. His hand sliding from the tree he braced himself against to fist in your hair. His hold gentle and allowing you to take your time bobbing your head, slowly taking him deeper into your mouth each time. His hips jerked in time with your movements followed shortly after with a little whimper of praise of how well you were taking him. The control you had over him causing the heat between your legs to grow. An unexpected and pleasant surpise just how ino this you really were. With out use of your hands and Ratbag so lost in how your lips wrapped around his length, you were forced to be content only with pressing your thighs together. Feeling almost cruel with his desperate noises only reminding you of each desperate throb from between yiur legs.

      His intoxicating sounds only grew louder with each inch you managed to take. Turning to a low groan when he hit the back of your throat. His hips jolting forward to completely bury his cock in your throat. His head falling forward to rest on the tree. His eyes drawn to the mess hes made. Drool starting to drip down your chin, hair tangled in his hold, and the sudden lack of air bringing tears to your eyes. His desperate noises quieted only by him bitting his lower lip but he couldn't hide the lust and reverence in his gaze.

     He'd stayed like that only a couple seconds, feeling like minutes with the lack if air. Once he'd noticed the way your eyes clouded he pulled halfway from your lips. Gifting you with breath and the salty taste of precum trailing on your tongue. The second pause to allow him to try and collect himself drawing your attention from how he filled your mouth to your own growing desire. Hips squirming to find some temporary relief even knowing none would come in this position. The growing heat between your thighs encouraged you further. Hollowing out your cheeks and taking his cock deeper once more. Ratbag's quieter whimpers giving way to moaned begging and desperate pleas for more when you took him into your throat again. Swallowing around him as you took your time, the grip Ratbag had in your hair tightening as he grew closer. The other now digging his claws into the bark above you. Dangerous even without a weapon yet so at your mercy he couldn't bring himself to do more than thrust in time with your pace and wants. His hips stuttering as he tried to last a little longer. "Wa-wait, I-im gonna-fuck- gonna cum" the warning came only seconds before he had. Pressed as deep as he could in your throat for every heavy spurt of cum. Too deep to really taste him but able to feel how he pulsed on your tongue, matching in time with the needy throb of your ignored sex.

I know who you are, and I love this unique character pick so much🖤

[hveiti-poki]

My horny ass wrote Ratbag x reader fanfiction and since it’s an inactive fandom I wanted to share it here too :-) https://archiveofourown.org/works/21651718

[butterflybuckethat]

Nudge

Request: Hi I saw your requests are open. can you please write a Anthony Bridgerton × Reader fanfic Prompt- "I only have eyes for you" (cute, fluff, angst, happy ending)

Notes: Anthony x Reader masterlist 🌱requests are open 🌱

You and Anthony had been married almost six months now. It was a rather tumultuous affair beginning with a lot of yelling and an unfortunately placed tree root. Needless to say, Lady Featherington was not above thinking the worst, and the two of you were promptly ushered down the aisle. The worst part was that you were just starting to like the bastard and then he returns home drunk and smelling of some other woman's perfume. You knew of his past. In fact, that was what you were fighting over when the tree got in your way. He was courting your best friend and you could not allow her to involve herself with such a notorious rake but he was quite set on her, so you had absolutely no choice but to go over there and scream at him for a minute or two. In a twisted way, your plan sort of worked seeing as how she was now married to the nicest man you had ever met (not to mention a duke) and having a marvelous time at their residence in Scotland. Your letters were a little less joyous than hers. You wrote mostly about your gardening and your shopping and your husband's sisters who were beginning to feel a lot like your sisters.

You were over at the Featherington's, sitting across from Penelope. As much as you loved the Bridgerton women, you were not entirely comfortable discussing your marital issues with them. "And he climbed into my bed, the ratbag." "I cannot believe it. He appeared so devoted this last month." Penelope poured you another cup of tea. You felt bad monopolizing the conversation like this when you were sure she wanted to talk about Colin, but you were at a loss. "I do not know. The circumstances of our marriage..." You groaned, dropping your head in your hands. "How can I expect fidelity from him. He did not want to marry me." "I-" "He does not love me."

The walk home was less than encouraging. As much as poor Penelope tried, it was futile. There was no cheering you up. You could not even feel the cold, despite being surrounded by snow. London turned ugly in the winter with gray trampled snow and the dark wool of the fashions. It was pristine just days ago, having just fallen. Anthony left his study midday to take tea with you. These lunches were mostly spent in comfortable silence: you read and he sat in comfortable silence next to you, occasionally reading over your shoulder. But that Wednesday you were sick of the silence. You met him at the door with his coat and a mischievous smile. "Are we going somewhere?" You pulled him out into your gardens. You paused at the doorway, taking in the perfect blanket of white, before giggling and dragging him into the couple feet of snow. You shrieked as Anthony launched a snowball at you. You ducked behind the rose bushes you had worked so hard on, but this was war and you needed all the protection you could get. Anthony won, the man was ruthless- and he wore gloves which you did not think to put on. You jumped on his back in revenge, the two of you falling to the ground. He sat up, pulling you to him, and brushed the snow off your collar. You nestled yourself in his lap as he nuzzled your neck, planting kisses up your jaw before reaching your lips. It was searing, melting away any chill from the snow down your back or the soaked skirts of your dress. You smirked on his lips, placing your bright red hand on the nape of his neck. "Aargh! That was cold." You hid your giggles politely behind your hand, feigning innocence. "You are cold." He pulled you up with him, making your way inside. On the couch, behind a steaming pot of tea, he removed his gloves and clutched your freezing hands in his.

Mrs. Morris was waiting when you returned, "Mylady, you left without a coat." She had taken to you the moment you moved into Aubrey Hall and subsequently became your right-hand woman. "Lord Bridgerton will not be happy to hear it." "I do not care what Lord Bridgerton thinks." Besides, he had been at his club all day, or at least that is where he said he would be. "That is not entirely surprising." And there he was, smiling at you. Insufferable. You turned to go up to your chambers, barely acknowledging him. He followed, calling your name all the way up the stairs. You asked a maid in the hallway to help you out of your damp clothing. Anthony dismissed her, trailing you into your bedroom himself. You sat in front of your vanity, you just wanted to go back to sleep. "Are we having lunch?" "Where have you been?" You reached to undo your coiffure but he swatted your hand away, doing it for you. You watched his fingers work out the pins in the reflection of the mirror. "At the club." What he did not say was that he told you as much that morning. "All morning?" He helped you up, hair falling all around you in curls. He tucked a strand behind your ear. "Yes," he rolled his eyes, "Colin has been quite the pest as of late." He spun you around, undoing the buttons on the back of your dress. His hands moved swiftly, revealing practice. Your dress on the floor, he brushed your hair aside to suck on your neck. You pushed him. He stumbled back a few steps. "How could you?" You jammed your finger into his chest. "I thought you enjoyed that." He took a step forward and you pushed him again harder this time. He fell into a seat on the bed. "How could you?" Your eyes stung, a tear dropped, and you felt like shit. What right did you have to be so...so jealous? No commitments were made, except the one he was forced to make and it was all your fault, if you had not tripped over that stupid root then maybe you would be happy. Each of you living your respective lives. "Y/N?" He grabbed your wrist. "Do not touch me!" Tears were freely streaming now. He leaned back, showing you his palms, like a surrender. You grabbed his collar and smelled it. Perfume. Different from last night's, faint but still there. You gathered the fabric of your chemise in your fists and backed away, as far as you get, until you hit the vanity. "You smell like perfume." You took a shaky breath, "Not mine." You could not look at him, too embarrassed or frightened of his reaction. "A different perfume from last night." Your voice cracked, "Not mine." He crossed the room and pulled you into his arms. Crushing you to him, pushing his fingers into your hair, and he chuckled. You could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest. "Penelope's birthday is next week." You nodded in confirmation, rubbing your cheek against the cotton of his shirt. "Colin has been out of his mind trying to find the perfect gift. He practically bought out the parfumerie, spraying them everywhere." You groaned. He pulled back to look at you. You were beet red, you could feel it; heat in your cheeks and neck. "I told him to go with the most expensive one." "You did not." "I did." He had this kind of lopsided grin on his face. "Pen has her own perfume." "Tell Colin that." You were still for a moment, enjoying the steady rhythm of his heart. "I am sorry. I do not know why- I just-" "There is no one but you." He sat you on top of the table so he could get a better look at you. "I only have eyes for you."

Penelope's party was an absolute crush. An intimate garden party, much to her mother's chagrin but the birthday girl was over the moon. Colin gifted her a journal. "Colin!" Penelope shrieked, "It is perfect. Thank you." He turned a pale pink. You all took bets on when he was going to offer his hand and your time was running out. Anthony sat next to you with his arm slung over the back of your chair. "What if I just gave him a nudge?" You whispered. "Cheater." He pinched your side. "Not me." Anthony scoffed but pulled you practically into his lap and kissed you hard. "I love you." You rolled your eyes. "Whatever."

[kpopgirl1234bl]

sorry to bother but can I request a black butler scenario where y/n is sort of the comedic relief or they are the kind of person to 'laugh in the face of danger' and are often getting into trouble because of this

also reader with Sebastian please

can I also remain anonymous you can give me credit if deemed necessary

Thank you and have a good day/night

Pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x gn!reader

Warnings: Slight violence against, threats, name-calling.

Word count: 683

a/n: This is the first request I have gotten in months, thank you so much for asking for this!

Many didn't believe you when you said you didn't attract danger. It just found you wherever you were.

When you began working at the Phantomhive mansion, that didn't change.

Even though Ciel had Sebastian accompany him almost everywhere, he also had you accompany him with Sebastian.

You soon found out that trouble also seems to follow Ciel and Sebastian around.

You didn't know what made you do it, but every time you faced danger, you made some funny comments.

More often than not, it seems to worsen the situation, which wasn't ideal.

You had once dropped some plates working with Mey-Rin. Knowing you would be punished by Sebastian, you sarcastically told Mey-Rin where your will was and that you loved working with her.

That only seemed to panic Mey-Rin even more, and she started scrabbling around the place.

That wasn't the best day ever.

Now today, you were accompanying Ciel and Sebastian on business.

A man had contacted the Phantomhive mansion, saying he wanted to work with them.

Ciel already knew the man wouldn't be working with them, but he had to see what the man had to offer.

When you three greeted the man, he seemed full of himself, quickly disregarding you and Sebastian.

His behavior didn't seem to bother Ciel, which made you wonder if he had to deal with people who were like this regularly.

After the man had made his offer to Ciel, he was downright offended that the Phantomhive family didn't want to work with him at all.

"How can you say no! My product is the finest in the industry!" The man shouted and raised his arms.

"That may be, but we already have skilled people making this kind of product. I don't see the need to hire someone like you." Ciel told him bluntly, as he always did.

"You're just a kid. You don't know quality when you see it." The man huffed and continued to glare at Ciel.

"My, you seem rather joyous to be around." You commented on the man's behavior.

"What did you say, Gibface!" The angrily shouted at you and began walking towards you.

You had done it once again, which made the situation a lot more dangerous.

You retreated a little, afraid of what the man would do.

"Now now, good Sir, no need for violence." Sebastian outstretched his arm to prevent the man from getting any closer to you.

"Get out of my way, you Ratbag!" The man swung his arm at Sebastian, but of course, Sebastian was a little faster.

"Sir, I would rather not have you lay a hand on my lover, or else I'm afraid I'll have to resort to some rather unpleasant methods." Sebastian's eyes began to glow, and you knew what that meant.

You saw the man's face contort into a grimace of hurt, indicating Sebastian had tightened his grip on the man.

"Sebastian! Y/n! Are you two coming? I have more errands to do!" You heard Ciel shout from outside the room.

Sebastian let go of the man, who looked at him with terror written all over his face. The man didn't say anything. He just ran away while holding his arm.

"Yes, My Lord," Sebastian said while straightening himself.

"Shall we go, My Love?" Sebastian offered you his arm and smiled at you.

"Yes, we shall." You smiled back at him and took his arm.

"You must be more careful, My Love. You never know what kind of unsavory people you might meet." Sebastian warned you, as he had done many times before.

"I know, Sebastian, but you know how I am when in a rather uncomfortable situation." You sighed, knowing he was right.

"Hurry up, you two! I don't have all day." You two heard Ciel shouts again.

You two looked at each other and smiled.

"Yes, My Lord," You both said and walked arm in arm towards your young master.

Though You laughed in the face of danger, Sebastian loved you all the same. Though he did have to save you sometimes from angry people, he'd never change anything about you.

[phrikewritesfanfic]

Draco x Fem!Reader Historic Au Part One

Part One:

         Lucius Malfoy leads a group of Death Eaters into the palace in the dark of the night. Sirius, Duke of the house Black, spots the hooded figures and rushes to warn his King. James sits in his chambers with his queen, watching as their twins sleep peacefully. Sirius bursts through the door, sword in hand, panting, “we’re being invaded.” James lunges for his weapon as Lily quickly scoops up the infant heirs. She follows behind the men as they try to get out safely. A group of cloaked beings appear from around a corner. Voldemort emerges from the group, a sadistic smile on his face. “You should have taken my offer when you had the chance.” James and Sirius close ranks, blocking Lily and the children. The figures begin to surround them, James looks back meeting his beloved’s eyes. “Run,” he urges hastily. Lily attempts to argue, but nods when she glances down at the babes in her arms. She rushes down the hall until she runs straight into someone. She screams, ready to fight  for her life, before she realizes who it is. Hagrid, the bastard son of a Viscount, stops her from falling to the ground. “My queen, what’s happened?” Before she can explain they hear voices and steps growing closer. She quickly passes the princess to Hagrid and urges him, “we need to run.” Clutching her son she leads the large man off. They take refuge in a hall as she explains the situation to him. More voices, including Voldemort’s, can be heard coming towards them. They’re looking for her. She realizes what this must mean for her beloved James, a cry trapped in her throat. She stares at her children, resolve building, and sighs. She hands Hagrid her son, tearily explaining, “Take them to my sister. Duchess Petunia, she and her husband have a son near their age. They’ll be safe with her.” Hagrid opens his mouth, ready to argue, when Lily touches his arm. “Please Hagrid. I need to know they’re safe. I trust you to ensure that. Think of it as the last request of your queen.” She smiles sadly, he nods. 

        Lily grabs her dagger and steps around the corner, ready to draw attention to herself. Hagrid closes his cloak around the tiny royals and sets off in the opposite direction. He hears Lily’s scream, urging himself faster. As he makes it from the palace grounds he spots a limping figure. He sighs when he recognizes Sirius. The two make their way to the Dursley manor. They knock on the door and explain the situation to the disgruntled couple. The Duke and Duchess accept the children into their care and quickly send the men off. 

      Days later Vernon greets his wife, followed by Marquee Alastor Moody. Petunia leans away from the eccentric man as he greets her with an unsettling smile. His gaze quickly shifts to the trio of infants being watched over by their nursemaid. “Alastor here has shown interest in the girl,” Vernon explains apathetically. Petunia’s brows raise in confusion prompting her husband to continue. “I understand taking in your sister’s son, the heir and only son, but the girl is just unnecessary responsibility. We’d be expected to school her and eventually provide a dowry for her to wed. The Marquee here has shown interest in taking her off our hands.” Her gaze moves from her husband to the other man, still examining the children. “I’d take both of ‘em if you’d prefer.” Vernon shakes his head, “the boy probably has some fortune awaiting him. Besides, we can marry him off for a nice dowry. I’m not paying for her dowry.” Moody nods, stepping over and gently picking up the small girl. “What’s her name?” Petunia gently touches the babe’s hand, “Her name’s Y/N.” Alastor nods, “Y/N Moody, then. I trust this’ll stay between us.” Vernon nods and sees the man off. Petunia watches as her niece is whisked away, staring sadly at her sister’s son playing with her own. 

Eleven Years Later

     Draco finds himself wandering the palace halls. He’s too young to be a part of the important discussions his parents are having with the king, so he explores. One day he watches as a haggard man strolls in followed closely by a girl roughly his age. She looks up, meeting Draco’s gaze for a moment before the man calls out, “Y/N keep up.” She rushes forward, “coming Father.”

        Draco watches her go, curious as to her identity. He quickly forgets about her, however, when she doesn’t reappear. It’s years later that he sees her again. 

       He finds himself with a group of royal children for tutoring. He notices that Y/N is one of a very few girls allowed. As they make way to their tutor, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, sons of Baronets who’d sworn loyalty to the Malfoys, are bullying the son of a displaced Viscount, Neville. Y/N storms up to them, pushing Goyle away as he swings his leg out to knock the boy down. “What is your problem?” She asks harshly. Draco stands up from where he’d been leaning against the wall, staring at the intrusive girl with a raised brow. The idiots bumble with excuses, only causing her annoyed gaze to grow. “I’m bored. Let’s go.” Draco calls, causing his cohorts to rush towards him. The trio slink off as Y/N helps Neville up, grabbing his dropped papers. He thanks her quickly, rushing off. 

    Draco sees the girl many times after that, stopping his companions from their fun, tormenting those around them. 

      One day Blaise, the son of a widowed Countess, is flirting with a palace servant. The girl pushes him away, refusing his advances, and he ignores her. The girl begins to sound more panicked as Blaise’s grip tightens on her arm. Draco debates stepping in, becoming uncomfortable with the situation, when Y/N storms up and punches the young Earl in the jaw. This action causes his hold to loosen, allowing the girl to skitter off, a quick word of thanks aimed at her defender. Blaise rounds on the girl, anger boiling in his eyes. He raises a hand, a threat of violence, and is taken aback when she doesn’t flinch away. Instead, she kicks her leg out, knocking his out from under him and causing him to tumble to the ground. Draco snickers behind her, earning a glare from both. “You’ve no right to take what isn’t freely given to you.” She spits, turning her attention back to the boy on the ground. He blinks up at her with a growl, “you should keep your nose out of things that don’t involve you.” She raises a brow at him, “ensuring that the King’s servants aren’t tormented by arrogant ratbags such as yourself is a hobby of mine. Ergo it does involve me.” Blaise stands, ready to continue arguing, when he sputters and stops cold staring behind her. “My Lord,” he stutters, bowing slightly. Y/N turns around, a smile forming on her face. “Hello Father.” Draco watches Blaise’s jaw drop at the endearment. “Causing trouble, pet?” The girl crinkles her nose, shaking her head, “interfering with trouble, Father.” Alastor’s eyes gleam brightly as he nods, “well then, carry on.” Y/N leans up and kisses the disfigured man on the cheek. He nods to Draco as he passes, allowing his daughter to continue her tirade. 

    Draco finds himself intrigued by the outspoken girl. He watches during lessons as she easily disengages any mayhem his companions try to cause. He knows he should be annoyed, help his “friends,” but he can’t find it in him to interfere. She keeps close to the few main subjects of torment; the one other girl, Luna daughter of the Knight Lovegood, Ron son of a displaced Baron and brother to one of the king’s knights, and Neville who’s grandmother’s title keeps him close to the king, even if his parents aren’t in great standing currently. 

   One day Draco is surprised to see the trio unguarded. Before he can question it Crabbe and Goyle shove their way over to torment Neville. “Seems your little guard dog isn’t here anymore.” Goyle laughs, snatching the book the boy’d been reading. Crabbe grabs the item before Ron has a chance to and snickers, “her daddy got called away. She won’t be back here any time soon.” Draco glances at Blaise, “called away?” The Earl rolls his eyes, smirking, “yeah. He was sent to hunt down one of King James’ supporters. Apparently the man’s been trying to stir up trouble and the king isn’t happy. Moody might not make it back, if the rumours of Black’s brutality are true.” Draco watches the chaos idly wondering if he’ll ever see the brazen girl again.

Tag:

Justbecausewhynot

Let me know what y’all think

[onepdumpsterfire]

Disclaimer: These stories are based ‘loosely’ on the game Obey me shall we date. The major stuff will be the same, but here and there the story will be changed or embellished. It is just an AU and I do not own the game the characters, from both One Piece or Obey Me, nor do I own One Piece in general. It would be cool though…

Warning: The characters will mostly be ooc and for the most part will not have the same background as in the anime/manga. The reader’s age will be above consent; the exact number is up to you.

Nola

Devildom!AU

(pt6/?)

Various Characters X Reader

Shanks heard about the fight the brothers had. He’d heard about how you got hurt. At first, he was angry at Sabo for doing what he did. If anything happened to the exchange student this whole thing would be a waste. He punished Sabo for what he did. Beating him bloody. Shanks decided he couldn’t take his eyes off him until he was sure he wouldn’t rage out again. So he proposed a three-day retreat. He could keep an eye on Sabo, and make all three realms get along. He needed to see results in his plan, if this was the only way to do it then it’ll have to do.

As courteous as he was, he made it known that this request was no entreaty. You all would show and be in your best behavior. No protests. No complaints. No objections. And so, that is how you found yourself taking a tour of his palace. Benn, One of Shank’s loyal servants, was explaining the more historic artifacts that decorated the halls. It was interesting to hear the different stories each piece held. One, in particular, held more than the rest. It was a painting of a woman she dressed in clothing from what seemed like the mid-1800s. She wore a high waisted baby-blue gown with a white lacy bonnet and shawl. This seemed to be from the human world. Her out of time style clothing wasn’t the only thing that drew attention to her. She seemed to be moving…

“Sanji!” came her scream. The painting can speak? Sanji looked puzzled. Had he done something to the painting to make them mad? “Oh, I know you! Violet, from when I visited Spain in the human world.” So he had. “You hornswoggler, pigeon-livered, ratbag!” 

“Now, now, sweetheart. No need to get nasty.” Sanji barely seemed to consider her as anything. What wrong had he done to make her say such strange…insults? “What brings you down here? Was the power you gained from me not enough?”

“Power?! From you?! Yeah right! You left me for dead!” Her shrieks shook the frame she was imprisoned in. “the coven betrayed me and trapped me in here! I’ve been passed around and showcased like one of those wagtail wenches! This is all your fault! If only you had st-”

“If only I had what? Stayed and helped? If I recall correctly all you asked for was ‘unimaginable power’ to bring those meaters of the coven to their knees” Sanji approached the painting, “If you didn’t know how to properly use them and was outwitted by those Vazey, Mumbling coves, it was on you.” His tone was dark and airy. Like he was trying to threaten her without letting the others know, but by how the room seemed to resonate around him, it wasn’t that convincing. “You Flapdoodle! I’ll make you pay!” You what…. Flapdoodle, really? You didn’t get much of a chance to wonder what that word implied. She let out bright light, oils swirling inside the painting. They turned into a vortex sucking everything near inside. First, it was Sanji then Nami and Ace. the last ones it took were you and Kid who grabbed on to law for support, but they were both dragged in anyway. 

The lights where you appeared were dim. Beside you was Kid and Law, separated from the rest. “We need to find the others,” was the first thing said in the eerie quietness of the corridor you were in. “What we need to do is find out where we are.” An interjection from the other male. “Not the time to fight, both of you.”

“We’ll look around, figure out where we are and find the others at the same time.” Both men looked at each other, surprised by your sudden leadership. “Yes, ma’am,” Law mocked you but listened to your orders nonetheless. Not like he had much of a choice. After the pact, every order you gave no matter how small, was followed. You didn’t like making them do things, giving them orders, but when the hands were down… You needed them to focus right now. 

The path twisted and turned in many directions. There were dead ends and traps, like a maze. For the leader of this makeshift gang, you had to take the back seat in most dangers that befell you. They were too grand to fight off yourself. If one thing came out of this, you learned the extent of both your companion’s capabilities and an invaluable piece of information. While you held a pact with them their demon forms wouldn’t hurt you. The power that they release, that is.

Their presence felt otherworldly, like Sabo’s. Their combined power would have pulverized you. It was just as great and magnificent as the first time you were able to see it. When Sabo threw you against the tomb’s wall. This time you could hold your own against this gripping force that radiated out of them. Your sight was clear and your head didn’t hurt. Your body didn’t weaken at the proximity. It was probably because of the pact you made with them.

Their forms changed as Sabo’s had. Law grew tusk-like horns that protruded from the back of his head, wrapping around to the front. They were pearl-white and sharp. Under his coat there was a tail, thin with a tuft of black hair at the end. Kid Had also grown one of his own, a golden tail that faded into pitch black. His own set of horns came out from the top of his head, twisting into their sharp endings. His teeth ground into fangs. They looked savaged like they’d maul anything that crosses his path. 

They both ferociously protected you from any trap that was set up in the labyrinth. Tearing into anything that moved and ripping you away from any danger that befell you. Eventually, you did come across the others, having a hammering headache as your guide. The two demons had to go ahead in front of you to tell Ace and Sanji to turn back from their demon forms so you could step closer. Nami, on the other hand, wasn’t affected by it. Her magic gives her protection from their power. “Oh my sweet, Y/n. it’s okay to come closer now.” Sanji called out for you. “R-right,” you turned the corner to meet them.

“Now we need to find an exit.”

“Darling, how I love it when you take charge.” Sanji was a flirtatious fool, no wonder that woman, Violet, was mad at him. However, she should have known better than to cross a whole coven. Pushing you in front, the two brothers you made a pact with ‘protected’ you from their brother. Not wanting you close the lascivious demon.

There was more walking, the labyrinth seemed endless. Yes labyrinth, Ace had filled you all in about it when you caught up. It was below the castle, and nearly inescapable, to those who didn’t know the way. But a powerful mage could figure it out with a spell or two, she just wanted to find the others first. With you guys here there was nothing stopping Nami. She started her spell, but there was this rustling coming from the chambers. It was a persistent sound, like sliding on the floor. Nami stopped her spell to hear it better, “what is that?” All present stopped to listen to the low creeping sound that was… getting closer. 

A wall down the path to your left was moving, you could swear that it didn’t lead to a dead-end before. “Guys, what is that?” You pointed at the scaly impasse that seemed to be moving to block all exit points. “Oh, fuck,” Law whispered under his breath, “That’s my pet Mindsnare Naga, Nola.” Kid punched his arm, “a mindsnare, really Law, really.” They were nasty creatures who seek power above all else. They’re immortal beasts that needn’t worry about time, creating convoluted plans to get to their goal. The highest-ranking person in the location they decide to nest in. They live to control and dominate their victims into submission. They suck them out of life with their venom then fill them with false memories and a built personality to help them reach their goal. If it was deep in the bowels of the castle had it already started it’s schemes? Does the ruler of Devildom know what resides underneath his very feet? You could worry about the troubles of the palace after you manage to escape its clutches.

Law had forbidden you all from harming his ‘poor Nola’. The others protested though he left them no choice, threatening that he’d destroy everything they loved if they were to harm a scale on the serpent. He gave them no choice but to oblige. Crossing the avatar of envy was one of the last things anyone wanted to do. He knew how to ruin any person until they gave up on themselves. He’s sent many into an endless cycle of loathing and suffering. “You’re its master, command it!” Kid yelled at law. “I can’t, she escaped when she was still young. I didn’t have time to train her.” How useless! How were you all supposed to defend yourselves now? You can’t hurt it, much less fight it. “I should have known she’d head to the palace. Her kind charm leaders of lands to do their bidding. Shanks must have found her and trapped her down here. My poor baby.” Not the time to hand out sympathy to something that wants to kill you. “Then what are we gonna do,” Ace piped in, the first time he talked since you’ve all gotten together. “We can’t fight it-”

“Her.”

“Not the time, Law.” If anyone was pissed at the scenario you seemed to be stuck in, it was wrath himself. “Don’t those things grow a second head if you kill it?” Law rolled his eyes at his brother’s ineptitude. “No, that’s a Hydra of Lerna. And they only regrow TWO heads from one that was chopped off, not if you kill it.” Thanks for sharing the knowledge, not helping though. “A mindsnare naga charms its enemies to kill them. Which is what she should be doing now….so we better think of something. Fast.” Law said this like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Why not try to be a little less smug and a little more helpful? “I know what we can do.” It was Nami this time who spoke up. “If I use my pact with Sanji I can boost his own power and mesmerize the snake.”

“Not a snake.”

“No one cares.” Nami turned to Sanji. “Are you ready?” He gave her a seducing smile. “For you? Always.” Nami raised her hand, a ball of glowing light sitting in her palm. Power flowed from her and Sanji seemed to be transmitting her energy. “Praebueris tua poteste quod tibi commodare mea. Nos hanc novam transmittat; coniuncta cum virtute non moveretur a te transiret ponam inimicos.” Her incantations forced an unyielding power to surge out of Sanji. “Don’t worry, Y/n. with my power I’ll protect you, so you won’t pass out.”

Sanji’s demon form is an incubus. Leathery wings bent to make a heart around his head then they straightened into a fine point. Short curved horns came out of each side of his head, and a long thick tail with an arrowhead tip at the end. He radiated an aura that was seen flowing out of him. The boost Nami gave him made his already grand power even more so. Sanji flew through the space between the ceiling and the top of the snake. Following it till he reached the head. Nola had wrapped herself around every way out. She was now coming in through the last passageway with Sanji in tow. He had charmed her on his way over, the serpent didn’t hold any more malice. “Get on! Nola is gonna show us the way out.” Law grabbed you by the waist and jumped on, the others in right behind you. “If she knows the way out then why is she still in here?” Sanji chuckled at Law’s question. “She’s not imprisoned. Shanks found her when she was young and let her stay down here. She gets fed every day and can go out if she pleases.” Law looked sad. His serpent had chosen a different master. As much as he loved her, there wasn’t anything he could do. She was just another of the nine monsters in this realm that guarded the nine circles now. 

After you finally got out of the labyrinth you all had dinner prepared by the demons. Shanks announced that the next day you will be doing a scavenger hunt in the palace. Hence the tour of the place. The lower demons had continued the tour after you vanished, so most of what the ones left standing saw was a mystery to you. The scavenger hunt tomorrow was gonna be hard. All of them knew this and demonstrated it with a groan that passed from one to another. After supper, Shanks separated you into groups. You were with Sanji and Ace. Kid was with Law and Robin. Nami was with Luffy and Usopp. Lastly was Sabo and Shanks.

Kid had protested, yelling that you had a pact with him and should be placed with him, but Sabo told him to zip it and follow orders. You all split up into separate bedrooms for the night. Nami staying back to have a word with you. She lent you some of her power for the rest of the retreat. She said you deserve to have some form of protection for the rest of the trip, not to mention she wanted you to have a good time with the rest. You were a bit confused by her sudden willfulness to share power, something you didn’t even know could be done, but Nami was very front face about everything. She wouldn’t have lied about her intentions. Feeling a tad closer everyone you made your way to your shared room with the rest. Today was a long day, though it was filled with many fun and exciting things.

1800’s slang-

* Hornswoggler- a fraud or a cheat

* Flapdoodle- sexually incompetent man

* Meater/Pigeon-Livered- coward

* Mumbling cove- a shabby person

* Ratbag- a general term of abuse

* Vazey- stupid

* Wagtail- promiscuous woman/ dissolute man

[freddiebamberfdaliveperformance]

Formation of Live Performance Concept

Having had years of experience as a live musician in a variety of contexts has given me a wide range of perspectives regarding the complexities of live performance. The very idea of being able to quantify what exactly a live performance is meant to achieve is an endless, and potentially untenable task.

Some might say the ideals and themes of live music are easy to define, in terms of what the layman would call truly “live” music - the mind normally jumps to the traditional guitar, bass, drums, singer set-up that Western culture is most accustomed to (Jones and Bennett, 2015). But even the greats of traditional live music vary widely in their execution of live performance.

Bruce Springsteen’s fame is often attributed in part “to his great reputation as a concert performer” (Angelle, 1987), his live performances feature slight reinterpretations of his songs, along with a level of energy unmatched by most of his peers, but Springsteen himself has written before that he believes his concerts are so successful in large part to the narrative framing he gives to his songs live, by often stopping between songs to explain the stories behind what inspired him to write them (Springsteen, 2005).

David Byrne is another musician who has in some ways transcended the potential limitations of the “traditional” live music set-up - his original band, Talking Heads, created the concert film, Stop Making Sense (Demme, 1984), which is now considered to be one of the greatest concert films of all time (Rolling Stone, 2012). His method of performance in Stop Making Sense, and indeed throughout his entire career, was formed largely by incorporating elements of avant-garde and Eastern theatre into the performance, especially including the movement of the musicians, and the staging of the performances (Byrne, 2012). An example of the often subversive nature of Byrne’s live performances can be seen below, from his 2018 performance on the show Late Night with Stephen Colbert.

The ideas and performances of these musicians have impacted my own personal ideas about performance deeply - I’ve always thought it needs to be more than just a musician playing their songs, in most cases there should be elements of theatrics to a live performance, otherwise the audience might as well just be listening to a recording.

During live performances I’ve done in the past I’ve tried to include theatrics in at least some sense throughout all of them. During my time as a drummer in the punk band Ratbags I would often get completely naked on stage while continuing to play the drums, or climb into the audience to sing during the vocal sections of songs where I wasn’t playing drums.

During electronic music performances, especially as DJing is my primary method of electronic performance, it is often harder to include elements of theatrics; due largely to the spaces they take place in - with the performer often being obscured by equipment and lighting, and many audience members focusing more on the act of dancing and socialising rather than staring at the musician/s performing the music - it’s been suggested that the main performance element in DJing is within the choice of songs and the order in which they are played (Hellman, 2009).

During live performances as a DJ I’ve attempted to incorporate elements of theatricalism, but the elements I’ve incorporated have been relatively limited so far. I’ve dabbled a lot with anonymity - wearing a balaclava, and having a friend also wearing one, who will routinely switch places with me in order to create a sense of confusion in the audience about who is the actual DJ. I’ve also leaned heavily on genre-switching - often pulling the tempo down from standard 130bpm house music down to around 75bpm, and suddenly slamming into a dancehall song during an event specified to be a house event - primarily to create a sense of unpredictability for the audience. These efforts are mainly to leave some kind of impression upon the audience - as too often DJ’s can be very good technically, but leave nearly no impression on the audience they perform to.

A huge inspiration to me for crafting my own electronic performance has been the label PC Music. Their label has been at the forefront of “Hyper Pop” since it’s inception in 2013 - Hyper Pop has been described as “experimental music that pushes pop themes and tropes to parody, with some dance/electronic undertones” (Ogunbayo, 2020). This experimentation can also be seen in the live performances of artists on the PC music label, but for this project, and for live performances post-Covid, I’ve been most inspired by their live streams. 

You can see from the video above that “live-stream” may be a bit of a misnomer, as the stream switches between multiple performers, actual theatre pieces, and animated 3D graphics. This stream quite obviously creates that same sense of confusion and unpredictability in the audience that I’ve attempted to create before with live DJ performances.

A.G Cook - the founder, and possibly most famous member of PC Music, recently released the album 7G (Cook, 2020) which masterfully blends elements of electronic music with acoustic elements (Fantano, 2020). This record was instrumental (if you’ll pardon the pun) in the creation of my concept for my live-stream performance. I wanted to incorporate live instruments with electronic music, in the way A.G Cook has done, but also do the electronic music live. 

The video above of A.G Cook obviously incorporates live acoustic elements into electronic music, but after research it’s still unclear whether the electronic section is live or not.

I’d like to incorporate the live electronic elements of something along the lines of Jeff Mills’ live performances (Mills, 2016), with the acoustic/electronic mixing of A.G Cook’s live stream seen above.

I wanted my live performance to, at least attempt to be, something new and different, and from my personal research online I couldn’t find anyone attempting to mix live house music with the banjo - so for my live performance I’ll be live programming drum machines and bass synthesisers, and then playing banjo, run through a variety of guitar pedals, live over the programmed beats.

The closest thing I could find to this idea online is the video linked below. 

Although this performance shares similarities to my idea, it focuses more on using the banjo to create loops, rather than using it as a truly expressive instrument over the beats originally created.

I hope to use my knowledge of live acoustic and electronic performances to create a truly unique live performance, that incorporates elements of theatrics, to entertain and engage the viewer beyond just the medium of music.

References

Angelle, D., 1987. Springsteen Live. Boys' Life, [online] (77), p.12. Available at: <https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=imYEAAAAMBAJ&pg=PA12&dq#v=onepage&q&f=false> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Byrne, D., 2012. How Music Works. San Francisco: McSweeney's.

Cook, A., 2020. 7G. [CD] London: PC Music. Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdr-1H_ezeY&list=PL6fQziqsQI2Nqqp7NncLoC1n5OokpOhgC> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Fantano, A., 2020. A. G. Cook - 7G ALBUM REVIEW. [video] Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pq71XoRcgw> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Hellman, Z., 2009. The DJ Aesthetic: A Look Into The Philosophy And Technology That Enable The Disc Jockey. Boca Raton: Universal Publishers.

Jones, A. and Bennett, R., 2015. The Digital Evolution Of Live Music. Hull: Chandos Publishing.

Mills, J., 2016. Jeff Mills @ Awakenings Festival 2016 - THE 909 WIZARD!. [video] Available at: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xPrVSd7Eys> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Ogunbayo, M., 2020. An Intro To Hyperpop. [online] VALLEY Magazine. Available at: <http://www.valleymagazinepsu.com/an-intro-to-hyperpop/> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Springsteen, B., 2005. Born To Run. New York, NY: Columbia.

Stone, R., 2012. Readers' Poll: The Best Concert Movies Of All Time. [online] Rolling Stone. Available at: <https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-lists/readers-poll-the-best-concert-movies-of-all-time-13805/> [Accessed 21 November 2020].

Stop Making Sense. 1984. [DVD] Directed by J. Demme. Hollywood: Arnold Stiefel Company.

[licieoic]

11/11/11 meme

I was tagged by @lacylu42 , thanks sweetie! The rules are: 11 questions answered, 11 questions given, and 11 people tagged!

1. Have you had to “kill any darlings” from your current WIP, ie: quotes, characters, scenes, etc. that you LOVE but don’t fit and have to be cut? Please share.

Not from my current WIP, but from My Fair Baron, yes. Originally, in the fic, I had Rose choose between Ten and Jack and then Jack stayed on to help when she chose Ten. I was told there were too many characters so I had to cut Jack, I gave most of his lines to Donna and the more scintillating lines I gave to Ten. However! In my current WIP, I brought the Jack character back in a minor way that has the potential to be more later on. Nothing is truly wasted!

2. What is your favorite genre to write in and why? Is it different from the genres you like to consume?

I love writing historical romance because I adore the research. I love learning when things were invented, what people were eating and how it was prepared, and what people were wearing. But I write and read a lot more than that! Honestly, the genre is secondary to the story in what I choose to read.

3. Do you consciously study existing works by other authors to improve your own writing? If so, what types of things do you look at?

I do! I read as much as I can. When I feel stuck, I read something to inspire me, but it’s almost always fanfic. I like to read stories with strong women personalities, so Rumbelle and Doctor/Rose stories are great for that.

4. Have you noticed any patterns in your own writing, ie: you always have a certain type of character, like to explore a certain type of story, etc.?

I’m not sure. I mean, I always write romance and very seldom have an unhappy ending, but I’m not sure I have any other hallmarks that say “THIS IS A LICIE STORY.” (Unless it’s a BDSM story. In which case, you can tell it’s mine if it feels like a fantasy but still very much based in reality, something you could conceivably see happening in real life.)

5. Do you do most of your world building before you write, while writing the first draft, or during revisions?

All three! A story evolves as it’s being written so I will have some initial ideas during story planning, I will get more as I do the first draft, and then I refine things during editing.

6. If when your WIP hits the bestseller list, where would you like to go or what would you like to do on a book tour? Is there somebody you’d like to be interviewed by?

I want to go everywhere and do everything, it would be especially cool if I could meet the friends I’ve made here on Tumblr and AO3 during a book tour. As for someone I’d like to be interviewed by... Is asking for David Tennant too much? I guess I’d settle for one of my favorite talkshow hosts like Graham Norton or Steven Colbert, though I doubt they’d want to interview a romance writer! LOL

7. How do you approach setting the scene in your work? Are you into lush descriptions or giving the bare minimum and allowing the reader to fill in the blanks?

I like being descriptive and that’s where having an editor comes in handy. I had like, 5 or 6 paragraphs describing a masquerade ball and she advised me to condense it to 3. People can fill in a lot of blanks on their own, there isn’t a need to describe every little detail, just enough to paint a watercolor picture and the reader can fill in the rest.

8. Do you follow a set structure (ie: hero’s journey, 3-act structure) when plotting out your works, or fly by the seat of your pants?

I generally try to outline a story first because I have WIPs that I didn’t do that for and they are just... SITTING there driving me crazy because I don’t have an ending. But other than that, a story can change on its own, characters can sometimes lead you places you didn’t think you’d go, so unexpected things happen. Other than that, I have a basic “inciting incident/meet-cute, main action, complication, overcoming adversity together, rinse/repeat, big moment, then big conflict, leading to the resolution” structure. With sex sprinkled in there like pumpkin spice. ^_^

9. What does your revision process look like?

I hand my draft to my editor and she gives it back to me with notes. The most important part of revision is this - if the editor has a question, the reader may very well have the same question, and it is my job to make that part make more sense. And if she says I should cut something or rewrite something, it’s important to know that it doesn’t mean the writing isn’t good, it means it doesn’t fit the story and should be changed.

10. Please share a bit of dialogue from your WIP that shows us something important about the character’s personality.

“That bloody bastard, that, that… pigeon-livered ratbag! Oh, there isn’t a word bad enough for him!”

“Isadora, please calm down—”

“I will not!” she snapped. “Do you know, the single most toxic thing men are taught to believe as they grow up is that being a good and proper adult with responsibilities and everything means doing all of it completely alone, completely without help. And it’s bollocks! What they should be learning is where and when to ask for the help they need in order to function at their ideal level. Everyone’s level of need is different!”

11. Please share any jokes or funny bits from your WIP of which you are ridiculously proud. ;)

Euphemisms for peen utterly amuse me, so I wrote this - 

Sidling over to him, she traced her fingers up his arm to his shoulder to drape her arms about his neck. “Master Longfellow and I are intimately acquainted, or did you forget?”

His cheeks blazed. He had definitely not forgotten.

11 New Questions! To be answered by (if they feel like it): @kelkat9 @suchadearie @leftennant @toppbanana @ktrosesworld @worryinglyinnocent @abovethesmokestacks @lostinfic @theoneandonlylittlebird @pipertennant @charlotteashmore13

How do you attempt to avoid day-to-day distractions?

What’s the difference between procrastination and pre-writing?

I often have a fantastic idea for a new book when I’m halfway through writing the current one – how do you keep yourself motivated to continue when that happens?

How long should a writing session be? Is longer better or does productivity go down the more you keep at it?

I use the Stephen King method of writing - try to get to 6 solid pages of work every day. Do you have a method or structure you use?

Can writing groups and/or courses become their own form of procrastination?

Have you ever collaborated on a story? Was it difficult to mesh your style with someone else’s?

Any tips on managing the admin of writing a book, for example, the marketing or research needed alongside the writing?

How do I overcome a writing block? Do I keep the same routine to change it?

What is your weirdest idea for a book that you have yet to write?

Right now, I’m writing about someone overcoming depression and it mirrors my own journey in mental health. How do you connect your emotions to your story?

[yoongisbbydoll]

ooh omg the wolf of Wall Street au + yoongi? that movie was so chaotically good

kalopsia, (m.)

⇢ pairing ─  min yoongi, reader

⇢ genre ─  wolf of wall street 

⇢ length ─  2,290 words

⇢ warnings ─  witty and vile insults, prostitution, implications of sexual encounters, giving/receiving head

⇢ synopsis ─  Min Yoongi is crazy, the unreachable boss of your law firm who wears glasses for no reasons and pays prostitutes thousands of dollars to strip and fuck him. Everyone under him bows at his feet like a flock of sheep. But you are determined to not let him take advantage of you–even if he’d pay you thousands to do so. 

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. He doesn’t actually need the glasses, but he always says that theymake him look more sophisticated so he always adorns them during meetings andanything official. But now, you watch him with slight curiosity, because the glasses indicate this could be serious—which monthly reviews never were.

Of course, as Min Yoongi’s secretary, you should know whathe does and when and where, but he usually sings to his own tune and so you sit back and wait for him to need your help—you’re going to be paid a hefty amount at the end of the month either way.

The entire floor is silent, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats, or standing, leaning closer to catch a whisper of what the boss has to say. Everyone worships him like a god, and you would laugh or snort at that if he wasn’t paying you far more than you should be for doing absolutely nothing at your desk every day.

“At the end of a very long week,” Yoongi pauses, smirk lingering under his righteous façade, “that at the end of the month, we have made twenty one point seven million dollars in gross commissions all from pink sheet stock, motherfuckers.” As his courageous, daring side slips through, the whole room starts yelling and shouting, there are workers hugging and shaking hands, but he’s not done yet. “To celebrate, our dear friend Kim Taehyung is going to be shaving his head for thirty thousand dollars.”

Taehyung is standing nervously behind Yoongi, next to you. He pops a few pills quickly then steps up. Jeongguk, his idiotic friend comes up behind him, electric hair clippers in shaking hand. Jeongguk looks as if he’s tweaking and you can already see the blood you’re probably going to have to clean up.

The room is loud, ringing in your ears as people cheer Taehyung on. He grins and winks at Jeongguk who quickly grabs the back of his neck and swings the clippers down maniacally. You close your eyes as the clippers come down and the whole room, as if possible, gets even louder.

Yoongi is clapping in the mic and suddenly there’s the loud blare of music. “Send in the strippers.” Yoongi yells, turning to the entrance.

A variety of topless, and some bottomless, women flood the sales floor. Everything is a mess, papers are being shredded under feet, there’s women and men screaming, grinding, groping. You should be used to this Friday afternoon craziness but it never ceases to amaze you how crazy everything gets.

Yoongi stares at the beautiful disaster that he calls his company and smiles—that crazy bastard actually smiles. You want to cry from the smell of cigarettes, which is most likely a fire hazard around so much paper, and alcohol and somewhere mixed in between is probably the smell of sex and feces and vomit.

The strippers and a few of the newest interns have snuck off to one of the conference rooms but in their cocaine and Viagra high they’ve forgot the conference rooms are all glass and a group of the older brokers are watching and cheering them on as they fuck against the table. Do they not know they’re going to have to sit at that table later? Was everyone in the room born without consciousness?

You’re still standing at the front, watching as things simmer down but still remain a raucous mess. You can’t leave until the cleaning crew comes and they’re probably not going to be around for another two or three hours—they like to wait a long time so that everyone can clear out, too many run ins with people having after-party-half-drunk sex, you suppose.

Yoongi grabs your elbow and leans in, speaking obnoxiously over the yelling. “You’re only judging because you’re not a part of it, baby.”

“I’m not going to rip off my top and dance around naked, if that’s what you mean.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back, wondering when an appropriate time to go back to your desk would be. You kind of left a game of solitaire open and would like to get back to it before someone tries to hide under the front desk to fuck.

Yoongi chucked, gruff voice tingling in your ear. “I wouldn’t mind the sight.” His fingers skin the buttons of your blouse and you step back. You feel repulsed.

“I’ll be at my desk.”

Yoongi is the type to talk you up, just to fuck you for a few seconds then dip. You’d seen enough girls running from his office, half naked, high heels in their hands and smudged mascara on their cheeks to know to stay away from that whirlwind. That’s what he was, he would just take you in then spit you back out and you’d rather not risk your career because you’ll be the only one losing in the end.

He doesn’t chase you. Why would he when there’s a room full of women who are being paid to try to get into his pants?

The next Monday, just before the brokers on the floor pick up their phones and dial like hell, you call a meeting with Yoongi and his select few. You stand at the front of the table, feeling as if you’re in Yoongi’s place for a quick moment before Taehyung scratches the back of his bald, patchy head and raises his hand like a child. “What?”

“Can I pee?” He mumbles, looking down at the table.

“Oh my god, are you a fucking child? If you had to piss you should have gone before, you knew you had to come to this before you even woke up you imbecile. Hold it.” Taehyung groans and drops his head to the table with a thud. “Taehyung, this is fucking mahogany!” You screech, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Yoongi looks smug, hands folded under his chin as he sits on the opposite end of the table. He’s known these men for more than half of his life and their own, so he enjoys seeing others scramble to control them. He’s the only one they’ll really listen to.

He clears his throat and Taehyung shoots up. “Please, head off the mahogany. Also, please, put on a fucking hat, I can’t take you seriously like this, you dickhead.”  

You clap your hands together. “Okay. So does anyone have anything to say before I go over the bank statement for the month?” Everyone turns to Yoongi who only stares at you contently. “Okay, fine. Then what in the fuck is this charge of forty thousand dollars to—god help me—BJ’s Entertainment?”

Hoseok is the first to break the silence, his loud cackle letting loose and then everyone is joining in, even Yoongi. “Entertainment.”

“This entertainment should be fucking bleaching, eating, and kissing my ass if it’s worth forty grand. Yoongi this is unacceptable.” You feel tired even though it’s the beginning of the week and you slept most of the weekend, but being in a room with seven douchebagguettes will do that to you.

Namjoon is covering his face to try and hold in his snickering but the rest are crying their eyes out, slapping the fucking mahogany as if the table isn’t worth half their paychecks.

“Can you ratbags shut up?” You yell, throwing the bank statement onto the table. As it slides across the table, they all silence and Yoongi catches the papers. “We need to set a limit on these things. No more fucking fifty thousand dollar dinners unless you’re meeting with the president and for God’s sake, use a fucking hooker company with a better name, and next time, no more than five thousand on entertainment or I will personally rip off your cock and shove it down your throat. Thank you.”

You sigh and fall into the chair, holding your head in your hands.

“Guys, leave.” Yoongi sighs and stacks the papers neatly.

You can hear a few more snickers as everyone leaves and then the door slams behind them and Yoongi’s hand is on your shoulder. “Do you need to take a break? The private jet isn’t booked at all this week so feel free to take it wherever you please.”

You know he means well—he always does—but you’re just so tiresome. It’s been weeks since you’ve gotten a good nights rest because most of the time you’re at the office late or have taken home numerous files that need to be reviewed. You always tell yourself sleep is for the weak as you drink your Red Bull through the straw and flip to the next bond, checking and double and triple checking everything. Any mistakes that the brokers or their assistants missed would not come down on them or even you, but instead Yoongi. It’s your job to make sure nothing bad comes back to Yoongi and everything is in the right place and looks legitimate, but it’s so time consuming and tedious do every single day of the week.

“Please, just give me a moment.” You sigh, shaking your head, keeping your eyes closed.

“I mean it, take the jet anywhere. I heard Paris is beautiful this time of year. You ever been?” Yoongi sinks down to a squat in front of you which you find odd but don’t want to question it.

You put your head on the mahogany, too annoyed and sleepy to care anymore. “I want to quit.” You admit. “Wait. That’s a lie. I want my job.”

“You’re the only secretary I’ve ever had, I think it’s going to take a lot more to get rid of you.”

“That’s reassuring,” you grumble, trying to will him away.

It’s too early to deal with his manipulative mind games. You’re going to need a shot and a can of Red Bull before you can tackle the rest of the day.

“You don’t seem to believe me.” Yoongi’s hand slips down to the arm of the chair, right next to where you rest your elbow. “Why don’t you let me convince you?”

His tone is alluring and you don’t want to give in. You’re not trying to play hard-to-get, you just don’t want to get wrapped up too tightly in his lifestyle, you like having your own space away from this job. But you can feel heat rising in your stomach up to your throat and your eyes sting even though they’re closed.

“No, I think you’re giving me an allergic reaction.” You nudge his hand with your elbow, “Get out.”

Yoongi grabs the arm of the chair and spins you towards him, your knees hit his chest. “I think I can make a pretty strong case.”

You don’t want to feel like this, you don’t want to feel like this, you don’t want to feel like this. But there’s just something about Yoongi—possibly his untouchable aura or his cologne that assaults all of your senses or the way his hair is perfectly messy—that makes your toes curl and your legs numb. He’s like the pretty boy at school everyone fawns over and wants to be friends with, but he just brushes them off so casually that it keeps them coming back for more. He’s like the sweet scent a Venus Fly Trap gives off to attract insects, attacking only when he knows he’s caught a live one.

And now he’s got you.

You surrender under him as his hands slide up your thigh, pushing your pencil skirt higher and higher until his finger tips are skimming your panties. His eyes don’t look away from yours as he pushes your skirt all the way up over your hips. You spread your legs and Yoongi dips his head down between your thighs and bites down on the bared flesh.

His hands sneakily dipped into your panties and he roughly pulled you to the edge of the chair. His hair tickles your skin and you hold back a squeal, leaning your head back and biting on your bottom lip. “Can I eat you out?”

“Yes, please, God.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and nod vigorously.

Yoongi hums and rips your panties swiftly, the torn silk makes its way to the floor. You barely have time to be enraged that your undergarments are not ruined before Yoongi flattens his tongue against your cunt. His hand slips between your legs and his knuckle circles your clit, mixing beautifully with his tongue slipping in and out of your heat.

His switches within seconds and one of his slim fingers is curling inside of you as his lips wrap around the sensitive skin of your clit. Yoongi moves with a practiced skill, eliciting moans from each insinuation of his fingers and tongue against you. You let out soft, dulcet breathes as Yoongi continues his assault. Your hips instinctively rut against his face, begging for more, more pressure against all of your sweet spots.

Yoongi is more than eager to give it all to you, putting every effort into getting you off. He adds a second finger and starts scissoring and twisting them in your heat. His tongue works faster and presses harder against your clit.

You kick off your shoes and hitch one of them up on the mahogany desk and your toes curl as your climax peaks. The muscles in your thighs tense and you arch your back, digging your fingers into Yoongi’s hair and trapping him between your legs as you unravel beneath him.

When your breath returns, Yoongi pulls back and stands, holding his hand out and grinning mischievously, “Did I convince you?”

note : Thank you for reading! Find more from me, July, here. 

[omgreally]

I'm so glad you liked it! Javi is a ratbag but when he sets his sights on Reader HOO BOY watch out

Javier Peña is the gif(t) that keeps on giving

AHHH CONGRATS ON 800 FOLLOWERS, BABE!!!

So well deserved and I love you for blessing my dash daily!!!

Here is my request if you would like to write it 👀:

Javier Peña because I can never get enough of that man apparently.

Angst/Yearning/Pining: mutual pining please 🤞🏻 but honestly you do you because I will read whatever you churn out.

Thank you so much! aaaaaaaaa it's good to be here with you lovely people <3

Here is a little bit of pining and adults being dumb but it's all resolved in the end i promise

Javier Peña/F!Reader - E - 2.1k Words - Warnings: Javi being Javi a shameless philanderer, jealousy, Reader being (a little) hard-to-get, oral (f receiving), fingerplay, mutual yearning that is very quickly resolved

The bar stinks of spilled beer and stale sweat, sweltering in the late summer heat. You sigh as you drag a sticky rag over the wooden bartop, succeeding only in making its surface that much stickier. Your once-white sneakers are now anything but.

Yet, you still keep working here.

You tell yourself that you don’t have a choice - but the reality is, even though the invitation has been extended, to go home now would be admitting defeat. It would be tantamount to saying to your parents: You were right. I couldn’t do it.

You will stick this out, you tell yourself. No matter how many late nights you have to work in this dive.

At least it’s a cop bar - flooded by agents and officers from the nearby American building. Some of them have even become regulars. You didn’t pay much attention. Not until a tall, broad-shouldered stranger swaggered in, already smiling at you beneath his moustache.

You made a point of ignoring his advances. You don’t have time for that. At least, that’s what you tell yourself - meanwhile, you blush every time you catch him looking at you from across the bar, you glance away when he laughs, and your scoffing disdain is all for show. You like the tall, dark, handsome stranger’s attention. And he can drink like nobody’s business.

He can also pull the women like nobody’s business. Sometimes you see him alone, but by the end of the night he usually has some bimbo or other on his arm. You try not to feel jealous - really you do. But in your ratty sneakers and your beer-soaked shirt behind the bar, you feel invisible.

Until he starts coming in alone more often. The stranger. He doesn’t talk much, surprisingly, but he smokes a lot, and the drink - you lose count at four beers, twelve fingers of whiskey and counting. You know he’s in a mood when he starts on the whiskey.

This night, he’s lurking up the other end of the bar, the end you haven’t ‘cleaned’ yet. Slowly, and against your better judgment, you make your way over. You tell yourself it’s just to catch some of the breeze from the electric fan in the corner, buzzing air into the close space.

“What’s wrong?”

You speak English to him because he understands, but your Spanish isn’t bad. You understand the nicknames he calls you, anyway.

“Ah, nothing, bebita.” Your lips curl; this one you don’t like, but he’s too busy staring into his empty glass to notice. “Everything. Never thought a fuckin’ promotion would kick my ass so bad.” He looks up, and there’s something empty in his smile. “Thanks for asking. Can I get another?”

“Bar’s closed,” you say shortly, despite the fact you’re still here, standing behind it. You shift your weight onto one foot then the other. “You want me to call you a cab? I know a local guy that won’t even try to rob you.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nah. I can walk.” All evidence to the contrary - he splays his palm on the sticky bar and hauls himself to his feet - briefly - falling back against it. You’re halfway round to help him before he’s sinking back onto the stool.

“Never mind. You got coffee?”

“Yeah.” Something about his broken sigh of thanks gets to you - niggles at you - chewing at some piece of your brain that blares with empathy. You try to ignore it, but it’s too strong. Out back, you pour two mugs from the pot and bring them out, steaming.

Javier mumbles his thanks as you sit on the stool beside him and slide his mug over. You both sip the hot, black coffee in appreciative silence for a moment.

“You a cop?” you ask him eventually, and he shrugs.

“I thought so, once. Back when I first started coming here. Now...I don’t know what I am.”

And you don’t know what the fuck that means, so you just shrug and sip. “Bummer.”

He laughs again at that, nudging your shoulder with his. “See, that’s why I keep coming here, bebita. I like you.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you scoff, shaking your head - but you made the mistake of making eye contact, and he’s locked on, now.

You start to wonder if he stopped picking up girls here for a reason.

You don’t mind if he was, you decide.

“Javier. Call me Javi,” he says, extending his hand into the small space between you. You spin on the stool for a moment, reaching out to toe the bottom of his with your smudged sneakers. You watch him lick his lips, a quick dart of his tongue beneath the fringe of his moustache.

You wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

“Well, Javi,” you say as you back up, ignoring his hand - sliding off the stool and onto your feet, “Bar’s closed, so you’re gonna have to make your way home now.”

“Home,” he mutters. He doesn’t fight this time. And this time, he’s a little steadier as he gets to his feet; he drains the rest of his coffee with one pull and sets the mug on the bar. “Right.”

You hesitate as he turns towards the door. “Javi.” Your heart skips in your chest as he turns.

You swallow past the lump in your throat to speak: “I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

He looks at you a moment, blinks. Then he smiles - not the hollow echo-expression from before, but a real, genuine, eye-crinkling smile. “Of course, bebita,” he says, winks at you, and then he’s gone.

Now it’s your turn to lean against the bar, unsteady. You can’t help but feel like you’re making a terrible mistake - but you decide you’ll be damned if you don’t have a good time doing it.

~

Javier is at the bar the next night.

He is a little cleaner this time - a little neater - his tie is cinched and his hair is swept back. Privately, you think he looked better bedraggled, but that’s just your own secret opinion.

“Evening, princesa,” he drawls as he slides onto the stool in front of you. You fetch him a Corona from the fridge, uncap it and set it in front of him, popping the slice of lemon into the neck all without a word. You know what he likes.

“Princesa, now? I’ve been promoted?”

“Something like that.” His teeth flash in a too-practiced grin. He raises the beer to you. “Salud.”

You mirror the motion with the water hose as you rinse down the wetback, watching him from underneath your eyelashes.

He doesn’t sit back and scan the bar like he usually does. He usually takes in his environment first - the people - maybe notice a girl or two even though it’s early in the night. This time, he sits facing inward. Facing you. And he hasn’t taken his eyes off you once.

“Okay, this is getting creepy,” you say after about fifteen minutes of this - after tolerating his gaze on your back as you served other customers away from him. You slam your hands down onto the bar either side of him and glare over it at him. “What is your deal?”

“I want to take you on a date.”

“What?” you fumble, trying not to sputter - that was the last thing you expected. Sure, you expected him to try hitting on you, but not so...so damn earnestly. But he’s staring at you with twin creases of concern between his eyebrows as if he’s nervous for your answer, and you never noticed how brown his eyes are before - you thought they were just dark but you can see now that no, they’re actually brown; deep, dark brown.

“A date?” he continues, holding up his hands, “You know...two adults go somewhere nice, spend time together…”

“Here is not ‘somewhere nice’,” you say, stepping back as you shake your head. You’re about to turn away, but Javier’s next words reel you in.

“Not here. I’d take you somewhere else. Somewhere nice.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious. You stare at him.

“You think a girl like me belongs somewhere nice?” you manage after a minute, looking down at yourself. At your sweaty shirt, your ripped shorts, your dirty sneakers.

When you look up, it’s into Javi’s eyes.

“Of course, princesa. Of course.”

~

“Fuck - Javi - “

You made it all the way to his door before he was, quite literally, falling at your feet. Pushing at the hem of your skirt, the one you’d hastily changed into as soon as you got home before heading out to meet him - Javier Peña - for a date.

A date that goes...really well, actually.

You learn his last name, he asks for your first. You talk about where you’re from, how you ended up in Cali. He tells you about Texas. About his earlier career. You tell him you never really followed all of that drug lord business - he seems grateful, although he says you picked the wrong country to move to.

You talk about music and movies and normal things and he smokes and you find you don’t mind it. You don’t mind the taste of tobacco on his breath as he kisses you goodnight - and then you ask him why he hasn’t invited you back to his place.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he says, his brow wrinkled in that familiarly earnest expression. You wonder if it’s a put-on but you don’t care. It works. And now you’re being pressed against the front door of his apartment, his head underneath your skirt.

Underneath your skirt and his mouth is hot on your cunt through your underwear and you gasp - pressing your knuckles against your mouth - feeling your lips compress against your teeth as he sucks spreading moisture into the cotton over your clitoris.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, and he chuckles, a warm puff of air across the wet crotch of your panties.

“I haven’t even gotten started, hermosa,” he purrs, and you ache for him to dive back in, but instead he pulls back and rises to his feet, reaching around you to fit his key to the door.

You practically stumble inside - kissing, pawing at each other’s clothes - his belt hits the floor with a thwack and his shoes follow, yours toed off as you step backward. The backs of your calves hit up against something - and almost before you’ve realized it’s a couch you’re falling back onto it.

Fortunately, it’s large and comfortable and it smells like Javi, like impossibly dark, impossibly brown eyes staring at you from across the smoky, sticky bar.

Your skirt’s rolled up to your waist, your panties at your knees - your shirt and bra somewhere else - Javi’s mouth is magical against your neck, his tongue on your collarbone, your breast, your nipple. You groan and grab handfuls of his hair, and he rewards you with his hand cupping your mound, two fingers dipping through your damp lips to begin an aching slide into the flexing warmth of your pussy.

His fingers are curling - clever - and thrusting before you have time to adjust to the sensation, and he finds your clit with his thumb and devastating precision. Still he’s swapping from your tit to your mouth, sucking greedily at one, teasing the other with short sweeps of his tongue, his upper lip scraping your sensitive skin - and you love it.

He can tell. “Gonna come for me, mi pequeña princesa?” he whispers once, against your neck, and your body answers for you - arching up - grinding your hips into the grip of his hand as the wave hits you. It washes away all logical thought, all sense, replaced only by feel as your body tenses and roils - heat flaring in your pelvis - muscles spasming in a rapid pattern of clench-release, clench-release around the delicious slide of Javi’s fingers.

He soothes you through it, massaging your clit until you start jerking away from him, and then he withdraws and wipes his hand on your thigh. Your eyes are closed, your body boneless. You expect him to maybe fumble with a condom and start to fuck you - or to just ask you to suck him off. But no, not Javi. Instead, he settles next to you, making room for himself between your body and the back of the couch, and he holds you close with your back to his chest.

You wait for your heartbeat to normalize. And you let him hold you.

“That was...way better than nice,” you manage, eventually.

Javi's chuckle vibrates through him, and then you, and he kisses your neck. “You deserved it,” he tells you - and you believe him.

[xxxthe-grammar-nazixxx]

Durin’s Heir

Part two - The Big Party

The day of the feast was finally upon them. Freya spent the morning putting the final touches on the gown she had been working on, before heading back down to the kitchen to see to lunch. Engrossed in cutting the carrots for stew, she didn’t realise she was being watched until she heard a cough from the doorway.  Thorin stood on the threshold, his shoulders almost touching the frame on either side. He seemed to be holding something behind his back. ‘Are you busy? Is this a bad time?’

‘No, just preparing lunch. Gretchen had the breakfast shift.’

Freya was intrigued. This was the second time he’d deliberately sought her out since the previous morning. Practicing for talking to real girls, perhaps? She might have been older than him, but she was still the right age to be a young, hip aunt. Not really that different from the girls he’d be surrounded by later that evening. Freya tried not to think about that. It wouldn’t do to get jealous.

‘I have something for you. I was just in the garden and I saw something that … made me think of you.’ He walked around the large preparation table and produced his hand from behind his back. In it were three long-stemmed white orchids. ‘I hope you like them.’

Freya was struck almost speechless. What was going on here? It wasn’t the habit of male dwarves to bear gifts. They usually had to be reminded of birthdays, anniversaries or any other special day, never mind giving flowers for no particular reason. Never mind that he wasn’t courting her …

Or was he?!

‘Uh … yes, of course I do. I love orchids. Thank you. This is most …’ Peculiar? ‘Unexpected.’

‘I know,’ Thorin admitted. ‘I just … Can I be completely honest with you, Freya?’ He took a step forward, still holding the flowers out to her. She accepted them, feeling a little charge when his fingers brushed hers. She gazed up at him, hoping she didn’t look like all the girls she’d ever seen him speak to in the past – in other words, completely star-struck, hanging on his every word.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m not looking forward to tonight, at all,’ he almost whispered. ‘You’ll be there, won’t you?’

‘Yes of course I’m going. It’s one of the biggest events of the season. I’m certainly not going to hide out here in the kitchen.’

He sighed with visible relief. ‘Would you do me the honour of a dance or three?’

It was almost a relief for Freya, knowing all he wanted to see was a familiar face. And yet she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed that she was relegated to the role of safety friend. ‘If you don’t mind me treading on your toes,’ she joked. ‘I’m not much of a dancer.’

‘Well we can tread on each other’s toes, because neither am I.’ He reached out and took one of the orchids from her. Shortening the stem, he leaned in and slid it behind her ear. Freya knew she shouldn’t misinterpret the gesture – he was just being a gentleman - but it was hard not to feel a little shiver as his fingertips brushed her cheek. ‘There,’ he said. ‘I thought that would suit you.’

‘I don’t think you have anything to worry about, tonight,’ she told him. ‘I think you’ll do just fine.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re still dancing with me! I’m holding you to that.’

Trust me, honey, Freya thought, with a secret smile as he turned and walked away. You can hold me any way you want!

 Gretchen was almost beside herself with excitement. She’d joined Freya in her chambers to get ready and was wearing her favourite red dress, which cinched in her waist and looked great against her blonde curls. But she gasped when she saw what Freya had been working on. ‘Wow, Cuz, you look amazing! And that deep green really suits you.’

‘Are you sure it doesn’t show off too much skin? I was in two minds about making it off-the-shoulder.’ Freya admitted.

‘No, it’s perfect! You are so going to find a man tonight, I just know it!’

Freya stifled a sigh. Maybe so, but there was only one man whose affections she was interested in. And he thought of her as little more than a safety friend. The person you rely on to rescue you from the bore of the party, or to act as a pretend girlfriend if your ex shows up. ‘Well, whatever happens, I plan on having a good time, and drinking far too much wine,’ she joked. ‘Are you finished with that hair brush? I’m thinking of wearing my hair up, tonight.’  As she stood trying to decide whether to go with a bun or a chignon, she remembered the orchid Thorin had placed behind her ear so delicately. Would it appear too obvious to wear it again? Too much like a signal saying, “I’m yours for the taking?”  He was right: it did suit her. It complemented her complexion and also the dark green of her dress perfectly. She made an executive decision. The orchid stays.

By the time the two girls hit the cavernous ball room, the tables were beginning to fill up. Couples were received at the large, arched double doors and asked to show their invitations. The entertainment for the night – a string quartet – were tuning up near what passed for the dance floor. Freya scanned the room for the prince, her heart in her mouth. Instead she spotted the rascally brothers, Kili and Fili, over by the punchbowl. Hmm, she thought. Those two are far too young to be sampling the rum punch! Ratbags!

‘Look at those two little buggers,’ Gretchen gasped, with a giggle. ‘Their mother will string them up if she catches them.’

‘Well, that’s for her to do, not us,’ Freya reminded her. ‘We can chase them out of the kitchen, but she brought them. She can deal with them. I’m not babysitting tonight.’

‘Me neither,’ Gretchen agreed. ‘Besides, won’t it be a laugh if they wind up a little bit sozzled and barf on her shoes?’

Freya was used to the animosity between Gretchen and Thorin’s sister. The girls had been friends once upon a time, but had fallen out over something – probably a guy – and hadn’t spoken since. Gretchen was forever commenting that Dis needed to remove “that gigantic stick from up her butt”.  Freya didn’t think she was that bad, personally. A little haughty, but so was Thorin, and it turned out that his cold demeanour was nothing more than a disguise for genuine shyness. Perhaps Dis’s was, too.

Speak of the devil …

‘Ooh, there’s the prince,’ Gretchen breathed. ‘Lance my boils, he’s looking fine tonight!’

Doesn’t he always? Freya thought, but followed her cousin’s eye-line eagerly. There he was, heading for the punchbowl and his nephews, presumably upon orders from his sister. He was wearing the tunic that had so brought out the blue in his eyes, with a dark shirt underneath and black britches. He looked like he’d taken the time to trim his already short beard, and his hair wasn’t as windblown as it usually looked.

‘Yeah, he looks nice.’ Freya replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

Gretchen glanced at her. ‘Nice?! What, are you blind?! He’s gorgeous.’

‘Okay … I wouldn’t kick him out of bed. Is that an appropriate response?’

Gretchen seemed okay with that. ‘Oh Blimey … he’s coming over here, now! How do I look?’

‘Great. You look great,’ Freya assured her. But as he drew closer it was obvious who Thorin’s brilliant blue eyes were trained on. Freya suddenly wished her décolletage wasn’t so … exposed.

‘Ladies, you both look incredible,’ he said, with a nod. But he’d barely taken his eyes off Freya to notice what Gretchen was wearing. ‘Thank you for coming.’

‘We wouldn’t miss it, now would we, Freya-girl?’ Gretchen replied, nudging her cousin.

‘No, of course not,’ Freya said, her mouth a desert. All of a sudden she needed a drink. Badly.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’ Well what do you know? He’s a mind-reader, too, thought Freya.

‘Oh, you’re just too sweet,’ trilled Gretchen, ‘but you’re the guest of honour, you shouldn’t be playing waiter! Here, stay and keep Freya company and I’ll go and get the drinks.’

As soon as Gretchen was out of earshot, Freya complimented Thorin on his outfit. ‘But I thought you were going to wear a white shirt underneath,’ she added.  

‘I tried it. I looked too much like a pirate,’ he explained.

‘Yeah … I guess it would, wouldn’t it? Anyway, black is your colour. Black, and blue.’

‘And green seems to be yours,’ Thorin pointed out. Freya liked the way his eyes didn’t stop at her exposed shoulders. He didn’t regard her like a piece of meat. He actually seemed to be checking out her dress. ‘Did you make that gown yourself?’

‘Yes. Do you like it?’

‘It’s beautiful. You’re very talented.’

‘And you sound nervous,’ she told him. ‘Don’t be. It’s just me! How long have we known each other?’

His lips turned up. ‘Since I was as old as Fili and Kili, and you were old enough to kick my butt.’

‘And I did, quite a few times, from memory.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ The intense way he was staring at her was making it difficult to meet his eyes. Freya felt a blush coming on. I should have worn a shawl, at the very least, she thought. He probably thinks this is my way of saying, here I am, come and get it!

‘There are so many dwarf maidens here. How do you feel about being on the auction block?’ she asked, lightly. ‘See anyone you fancy?’

Thorin still hadn’t taken his eyes off of her. ‘You could say that.’

Freya blanched. ‘Thorin, I …’

‘Don’t, Freya. Don’t spoil it.’ His voice sounded husky; strange.

He can’t mean me, can he? He can’t possibly … For one thing; his father will have a stroke. For another, he has his pick of hotties tonight! Why me? Not that she was complaining. This was exactly what she wanted, in her heart of hearts, wasn’t it? Even if it was going to ruffle a few royal feathers.

Just as Freya was trying to think of something else to say that would bring things back from the brink of awkward, Gretchen returned with their drinks. Ale for Thorin, and wine for herself and Freya.

‘So, got your eye on anyone, yet, Your Highness?’ Gretchen joked, and Thorin almost lost the mouthful of beer he’d just drunk, swallowing it just before he managed to spit it everywhere. ‘Not yet, no,’ he lied. ‘None here compare to either of you.’

‘Oh, listen to him. What a charmer.’

‘He is, isn’t he,’ Freya agreed.

He watched her over the top of his beer stein. She, in turn, played with the stem of her glass, sliding her fingers up and down it slowly, as if she didn’t know what she was doing (she totally did).  Every now and then she’d take a sip, between breaks in conversation, which admittedly, Gretchen was leading, but mostly she used her glass as a prop. It was Flirting 101, and pretty soon even Gretchen caught up with what was going on. She stopped, mid-sentence, and made an excuse to drag her cousin away from the prince.

‘All right, spill,’ Gretchen demanded. ‘If there was an event for Eye-fucking in the Olympics, you two would get the gold medal! Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you two sweet on each other? Are you two … You know …’

Freya gasped, pretending to be horrified. ‘Gretchen! Ease up! I’m not about to rob the cradle, here.’

‘He’s only ten years younger. Actually, nine and a quarter, to be exact.’

‘And your point is? Newsflash: He’s royalty, and I’m The Help. Not gonna happen.’

Gretchen narrowed her hazel eyes. ‘But you want it to, don’t you?’

Freya tilted her head. ‘Well, he is gorgeous.’

‘I knew it!’ crowed Gretchen, triumphantly. ‘I knew you had a thing for him!’

‘Keep your voice down, will you? If King Thrain hears you, I’ll be picking crops for the rest of my days. Far away from the kitchen; and you.’

‘And the prince.’ Gretchen added, helpfully.

‘Well, that would be the whole point of the exercise, wouldn’t it?’

Freya followed Thorin’s form over to his father, who was with a group of people Freya didn’t recognise. Introductions made, it looked as though Thrain was trying to convince Thorin to ask the young maiden in the party to dance. The band had begun playing a lively polka, so it wasn’t as if they were likely to get too up close and personal, but still, Freya felt a pang of jealousy. Until she saw Thorin dance. Oh boy, she thought. He wasn’t kidding when he said he had two left feet!

Luckily, Gretchen was too busy eyeing off another likely prospect to notice Thorin’s apparent lack of grace on the dance floor. Freya needed a break from obsessing over the one love that would never be hers, so she took herself off to find something to eat. A little while later, she was standing by the dance floor when a cousin or other distant relative of Thorin’s – whose name she could never remember – asked her to dance.

Why not, she thought, spotting Thorin leading a busty redhead around the floor in a vain attempt at a Viennese Waltz. She let Ori or Nori or whatever his name was with the funny star-shaped hairdo lead her into the fray, and had to stifle a grin a few minutes later as their paths crossed with Thorin and the redhead.

Poor baby, thought Freya. He looks completely lost! He did seem to be watching the couple in front quite a bit. But it all came undone when he spotted Freya and Nori – that was it, Nori – and promptly stamped on his partner’s foot!

‘You were jealous,’ Freya laughed, when at last she was in his arms. The music changed to something much more manageable for the young prince, a ballad about lost love, although the lyrics, sung by a dwarf with a falsetto, were difficult to decipher. Thorin pulled Freya close and shook his head. ‘I was not! I merely lost count.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘You’re not going to let me live this down, are you?’

‘Probably not.’  

She liked the way he held her. The slower dances were much more his style. ‘You weren’t lying though. You are a terrible dancer,’ she joked. ‘Much worse than me.’

She half-expected him to pout, but he laughed, instead. ‘Yes, yes. Make all the jokes you want. But seriously … some of those dances must have been invented by Torquemada himself. Put me in a room with the person who came up with the Viennese Waltz, for just five minutes. I’ll teach him how to dance.’

‘With sword in hand, no doubt.’

‘You know me too well.’

Freya gulped. That I do, she thought. How can someone you’ve known for so long, someone you’ve only really thought about in passing, come to mean so much in such a short space of time? It was ridiculous how quickly she’d gone from occasionally giving him a favourable glance to not being able to stop thinking about him. And it all began because I happened to catch him without a shirt. Has it really been so long between drinks that I fall for the first male with a set of decent abs?

‘What are you thinking about?’

‘I’m thinking that your dad probably won’t like us dancing together, two songs in a row,’ Freya lied, spotting the King on the edge of the dancefloor, looking more than vaguely pissed off.

‘Too bad,’ Thorin decided, and tightened his hold on her. She breathed in his ultra-masculine cologne, her lips perilously close to that little hollow between his collarbones. He rested his chin on the top of her head. Despite her worry about what the king would think, she never wanted this dance to end.

‘Seriously, though,’ she murmured, ‘you should probably pick another partner for the next few songs, just so he doesn’t get suspicious.’

‘What are you afraid of?’ He asked her directly. ‘My father can’t make me marry someone I don’t love.’

‘I’m more afraid he’ll disapprove of you and I,’ Freya confessed, looking up into those eyes she could never get enough of. ‘You’ve got to admit, there’s something happening between us. Or am I imagining it?’

‘You’re not imagining it,’ he replied. He lifted a hand and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘I felt it – hell, I knew it, the minute I spotted the orchid in your hair. I took it as a sign. Was I wrong?’

‘No. I have feelings for you, too,’ Freya told him, shyly.

The song ended. ‘Let’s get out of here.’ Thorin suggested.

‘Won’t your father come looking for us?’

He sighed. ‘If you’re that worried about it, we can leave separately. I’ll meet you in your chambers. He’ll never look in there – he’s far too worried about etiquette. He’d be much more likely to come crashing into my room, mid- … well, whatever.’ Thorin’s cheeks took on a hue that was frankly, a complete and utter turn-on for Freya.

‘Okay, my room it is. But … just so that it’s not obvious, maybe we should have a couple more dances with other people.’

‘You flirt,’ Thorin joked. ‘You’re just trying to make me jealous.’

‘Is it working?’

‘What do you think?’

 ****

 ‘Freya, I just ran into King Thrain. You and Thorin should probably cool it down a bit,’ Gretchen whispered. ‘He’s not happy.’

‘I didn’t figure he would be.’

‘He wants Thorin married into a noble – i.e rich – dwarf family. Not for the money, more for the power and prestige, and the alliances it can bring.’

Freya favoured her cousin with a reproachful look. ‘Gee, Cuz, no shit.’

Gretchen had managed to catch Freya in the hallway by the huge iron and gold staircase. There was no one else about but she still kept her voice down. ‘You two were pretty hot out there! If he held you any closer, you’d be pregnant right now!’ Gretchen grinned. ‘Half your luck! I knew you’d strike gold in that dress! I just didn’t imagine it would be with the Prince of Erebor, himself.’

‘Neither did I, believe me,’ confessed Freya. ‘It’s all happened so fast. One minute he was asking me for advice about what to wear tonight and the next … I feel like I’m in some kind of alternate universe, or something. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen to girls like me.’

‘Yes it does, and you deserve it,’ Gretchen stated. ‘Now, here … take my key, and go wait in my chambers. I’ll get a message to Thorin to meet you there. Now, go!’

‘Are you sure?’

Gretchen rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m sure! I’m going to have to change my sheets, and possibly burn my mattress, too, but I’m sure.’

Freya took the key and hugged her cousin. ‘You’re the best.’

Stayed tuned for part three: A night of passion. 

[desertsolitaire1-blog]

Capstone Project Inspiration

EDPX - 3990

01/15

National Geographic:

Explore today through the eyes of our explorers, photographers, journalists, and filmmakers

Topics:

Animals

Culture and History

Environment

Exploration and Adventure

Science and Innovation

Travel

About:

The National Geographic Society is an impact-driven global nonprofit organization that pushes the boundaries of exploration, furthering understanding of our world and empowering us all to generate solutions for a healthy, more sustainable future for generations to come. Our ultimate vision: a planet in balance.

Challenge:

We are faced with a world drastically different than when the National Geographic Society was founded in 1888. We face immense environmental and climate problems including resource shortages and innequalities.

WE WILL ACHIEVE OUR STRATEGIC AIMS THROUGH EXPLORING, INSPIRING, EDUCATING AND SCALING IMPACT

Hello Zukeen:

Magazine Publication and Social media platform documenting the outdoor and creative pursuits/adventures of several friends. Including photography and journalism featuring surfing, traveling, and the creation of art.

Describing quotes: 

“Ambitious and perhaps naive, one writer, one designer, one photographer and a gang of contributors have joined forces to create for you, my dear reader, something spicy. Something with a bit of kick.”

“There is no simple way to describe Hello Zukeen. It’s a snapshot of a time and place. A chronicle of many youthful endeavours. A story of creative ratbags doing cool things.”

“It is a documentary of sorts, driven by a strong visual aesthetic. It might not be the worst magazine you will ever read.”

Patagonia:

Environmental Impact:

“The quality of Patagonia depends, to a large degree, on whether we can reduce our impact on the environment. This means auditing the materials and methods we use to make our products, taking responsibility for the entire lifecycle of our products and examining how we use resources at our buildings and facilities.”

Activism:

“We believe the environmental crisis has reached a critical tipping point. Without commitments to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, defend clean water and air, and divest from dirty technologies, humankind as a whole will destroy our planet’s ability to repair itself. At Patagonia, the protection and preservation of the environment isn’t what we do after hours. It’s the reason we’re in business and every day’s work.”

Corporate Support / Sponsorship:

Patagonia has been assisting grassroots activists for over 40 years assisting in solving the environmental crisis.

Patagonia is an incredibly responsible business, sustainably sourcing or recycling nearly all of their product and investing in environmental solutions.