#these 3 rich white men are so dear to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writteninkat · 5 months ago

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HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

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KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]

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gatekeeper-watchman · 7 months ago

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Daily Devotionals for May 5, 2024 Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living

Devotional Scripture:

Proverbs 15:25-27(KJV): 25 The LORD will destroy the house of the proud: but he will establish the border of the widow. 26 The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the LORD: but the pure's words are pleasant. 27 He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house; but he that hateth gifts shall live. Proverbs 15:25-27(Amp): 25 The Lord tears down the house of the proud, but He will secure the boundaries of the (consecrated) widow. 26 The thoughts of the wicked are shamefully vile and exceedingly offensive to the Lord, but the words of the pure are pleasing words to Him. 27 He greedy for unjust gain troubles his household, but he who hates bribes will live.

Thought for the Day

Verse 25 - God protects the humble widow who looks to Him, and secures her borders. The prideful man will reap what he has sown, as God will allow his house to be destroyed. God treats all men fairly. Though He is not partial toward individuals, He is partial to His Word. Faith and obedience to God's Word bring us His favor, no matter who we are or where we come from. "Then Peter opened his mouth, and said, Of a truth I perceive that God is no respecter of persons: But in every nation, he that feareth him, and worketh righteousness, is accepted with him" (Acts 10:34-35). His promises are to "whosoever will" (Revelation 22:17). This means that anyone who desires to come to God through Jesus will be accepted. It does not matter if we are rich or poor, male or female, black or white. God will accept us because He made us and loves us. The only condition is that we come to Him with a humble heart, acknowledging our need for Him to save us.

Verse 26 - God knows our thoughts and words. The thoughts of the wicked are extremely offensive to God. He is holy and pure, and He desires His children to walk in holiness and purity as well. When He hears us speaking good words, it is pleasing to Him. Just as we, as parents, are pleased to hear our children speak good things, our heavenly Father is pleased when our words and actions are right.

Verse 27 - The greedy bring trouble to their households. Everyone in a family suffers when one member does not walk in God's ways. If that person is the father, he brings problems down upon the whole household. A greedy man can be so preoccupied with making money that he neglects his wife and children, or selfishly keeps his money for himself and gives little to his family.

A greedy man is susceptible to compromise. Those wanting favors from others learn to manipulate them with gifts or money. A greedy man falls into this trap easily. This is why one of the qualifications for the office of a deacon in the New Testament is that he not be greedy for money gained unjustly (1 Timothy 3:8-9). To please God, we must allow Him to deal with any greediness within us and resist anything that even looks like a bribe. Otherwise, we can be manipulated by evil men and violate our conscience.

Prayer Devotional for the Day

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jabbage · 1 year ago

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#Letters from Watson #lettersfromwatson

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fionajames · 1 year ago

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Hello! Good night (since it’s midnight and im an insane insomniac). Requesting again since I strive to cure your boredom! <3

Anyways May I possibly request Anakin and Dhole with prompt #11 “we could get arrested for this”, please? I feel like they would get into so much trouble together, Rex and Wolffe just following them around to keep them from getting hurt.

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOUR WORK

Sincerely, your dear follower, Sha 🫡

thievery

TYSM SHA YOUR AN ABSOLUTE LEGEDN! LIKE AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!

I LOVED WRITING THIS SM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Y’know, we could get arrested for this,” Dhole whispered as he peered around the corridor of the hallway. When he saw no one there, he bolted around to the next corner to hide, Anakin not far behind him. Dhole fidgeted with the ends of his poncho’s sleeves and pulled the hood back over his face again. Wearing civilian clothes felt weird.

“But it’s worth it, right?” Anakin muttered in response, grasping the Clone’s elbow and pulling him back away from the corner as two well-dressed people walked past - not seeing them. Dhole let out a sigh of relief and mutter a ‘thank you’. “‘Tax the rich, feed the poor’, huh?” The brunette grinned and the curly-haired boy let out a quiet laugh.

“Of course, except this time it’s ‘steal from the rich, feed the poor’,” he replied, raising one eyebrow slightly, brushing a red wisp out of his eye. Anakin nodded and grinned.

“Of course.”

They continued hurrying through the maze of a mansion, scurrying round corners and even hiding under tables when guards and visitors walked past. “We’ll have to make a few trips,” Dhole whispered to his General as they crouched under a table, pressed up against a wall as they watched a group of Senators pass by.

“As many as we need,” Anakin assured him and Dhole relaxed slightly. “Don’t worry, vod, we’ll get enough.” The curly-haired boy shot him a thankful grin, relaxing at the unusually calming tone and nickname. Anakin didn’t know Mando’a - Ahsoka was learning - but he’d picked up on several words, but mostly vod, vodíka, and ori’vod, as they were used the most.

“Thank you, sir,” Dhole murmured back, pulling his foot closer to him and wincing when it put him in an uncomfortable position. He bit his lip to stop himself from cursing loudly at the pain, watching the Senators walk extremely slowly.

“Please,” Anakin began, shuffling a bit to give him more room. “If we’re going to be doing this - hiding under a table together and committing crimes - I think you can call me Anakin.” Dhole winced at the thought of calling the General by his first name.

“But not even Rex calls you Anakin,” he murmured a reply, unlacing his boots laces and retying them as a way to pass the excruciatingly long time as the Senators basically shuffled past.

“That’s because Rex refuses to, says no because of protocol,” Anakin shot back playfully, watching with just as much impatience as the group of Senators laughed loudly and paused in their place - just a few metres in front of the table. Both men rolled their eyes frustratedly.

“Alright, Anakin,” Dhole breathed out, sighing in relief when the Senators continued their slow walk. “How’s your day been?”

Anakin let out a quiet chuckle, covering his mouth with his hand to muffle the sound. “Good, so far, Dhole. How about you?”

“It will be considerably worse if we get caught,” Dhole teased lightly, letting out a quiet cheer when the Senators disappeared around a corner. The pair scrambled out from underneath the table and began quickly making their way to their destination again.

“That’s why we’re planning not to,” Anakin pointed out with a smirk. “Uh huh!” He pointed at two decorative, white doors that presumably led to the kitchens. Dhole grinned and slunk over to the doors, pushing one open very slightly. The pair peered inside - Anakin’s chin resting on top of Dhole’s head to see - and both sighed in relief yet again when they discovered the room was empty.

Dhole quickly slipped inside, beckoning the brunette in as they gazed over the foods containing the kitchen. Dhole’s stomach growled as his jaw fell slack. There were piles and piles of all different kinds of fruits, bowls and plates filled to the brims with various cuisines and jugs filled with copious amounts of different drinks.

Anakin got to work almost immediately, hurrying to the cupboard - past the freshly made food - and piling packets and packets of biscuits and two-minute noodle cups into his backpack. Dhole knocked out of his daze and - with one last longing look at the dessert plates stacked with donuts and cakes - dashed to his General’s side.

They worked quickly and in silence, filling their four backpacks with food and drinks, then dashing to the window. “So this is the window,” Anakin muttered, pushing the window open. He looked down at the drop, which was about 15 metres. “Ready?”

“If you are,” Dhole murmured, eyes wide. “Wait just a minute.” He rushed to the counter and grabbed a pink-frosted donut and stuffed it into his mouth. “What?” He asked, his voice muffled by the donut. Anakin shook his head with a laugh, before promptly jumping out the window with his two backpacks in hand.

Dhole peered down and watched as the General landed safely on the floor, then waved to him. Biting his donut, Dhole finished the dessert with a happy grin at the sweetness and took a few steps away from the window. “Here goes nothing.”

He raced towards the window and dived out, feeling his stomach plummet at the unnatural feeling. As he neared the ground - growing increasingly scared for his life - Anakin reached out and called the Force to his will, using it to catch Dhole.

“Thanks,” the Clone puffed as he landed on two feet, looking back up at the window with a grin. “Alright, let’s go.”

The two hurried through the grassy plain and scaled the huge wall surrounding the mansion, giggling as they tumbled into the soft green below. They raced through the fields and then into the town, slowing when they reached the centre.

All around them, civilians were clustering together for warmth as the sun began to set, spreading freezing cold over the planet. Dhole watched a little Human girl hurry to her Grandmother’s side for warmth, crying into her sweater.

“Here,” Dhole whispered to the old woman, handing her several loaves of bread and two-minute noodle cups, alongside three bottles of water. She looked up at him. “For you and the kid, take care.” The little girl sniffled as she looked up at the Clone with huge dark eyes, and then rushed to him and hugged his leg.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” She squeaked out, crying into his pants fabric. Dhole crouched down and patted her head fondly. “Thank you so much!”

“It’s no problem, kid,” Dhole murmured softly, grinning hugely. He then glanced up at the Grandmother, who was wiping her own tears of thankfulness and beaming. “Please tell as many of the war-victims we’re trying to get them supplies.”

“Thank you,” she rasped, scooping the little girl up into her lap. “I will.”

Dhole and Anakin spent the rest of the night rushing back and forth between the town and the mansion, carrying packs and packs of food and drinks for the civilians. The sun was rising by the time they’d finished, and they were both exhausted.

“Ready to go home, Anakin?” Dhole asked, as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. The brunette had an arm draped over his shoulder as he practically clung to him in order to stand.

“I was ready ages ago” Anakin yawned.

I INTENDED TO INCLUDE REX AND WOLFFE OR FOX GETTING ANNOYED BUT DIDNT SO MAYBE I'LL DO A PT. 2?

GUYS TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS IF I SHOULD DO A PART 2

IDK IF NO ONE TELLS ME

REQUEST THINGS PEOPLE SRSLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

HOPE U ENJOYED

HAVE A GOOD DAY/NIGHT!!!!!!

#star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #tcw #clones #anakin skywalker #oc #my oc #ocs #jedi #senators #ka’ra writes ❤️

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rinwellisathing · 9 months ago

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You're Awful, I Love You: Part 3

Enver Gortash/Trans male Tiefling Durge

The bloodshed was waning by now. Sentry felt a little pang in his heart as he realized the night guards (and indeed, any archivist unlucky enough to be working late) had been dispatched or subdued. He allowed himself to be caught off guard just a moment as the beautiful elf expertly eviscerated a burly dwarf with a blade on the heel of her boot. He didn't see the sword wielding human trying to creep up behind him, but he did turn as he heard a death rasp and a sickening crack. His would be attacker slumped to the floor and behind the man stood Enver Gortash, carelessly inspecting the delightfully deadly looking gauntlet he wore. Sentry looked down, the man's neck was snapped, not merely broken, the gleaming white of his spine dripping in blood and gore was visible poking out like an over large thorn from his ruined neck. Sentry looked back up at Gortash, who was now looking to his men who were expertly reclaiming father's things under Sceleritas' careful direction. The tyrant's face was so beautiful in this moment, blood spray freckling his deep olive flesh and rich black hair, the shape of his profile was something an artist like Sentry could only dream of being inspired to paint. His breath caught in his throat and he realized his next masterpiece. “Is something wrong, my dear executioner?” The sardonic smile on Gortash's face begged to be slashed from ear to ear. Sentry blinked and shook his head, righting himself. “Oh, uh...no. No, everything's great. But...um...hey, you've got all these designs for high politics, yeah? Ever thought of having a portrait done?” The young man asked, fingers reaching out to touch the bloodied, bristled flesh of Gortash's jawline. “You cut an imposing figure and I'd love to paint you.” To dig in, to pull away that flesh. To paint his visage in his own blood. Sentry felt a tightening at his groin. “Oh? You'd truly like to paint me?” That smirk again. He had to know what Sentry was feeling just now. “Well, I'd be a fool to turn down such an offer from such a talented artist. I assume given that your skulking, brooding friend has been following me for some time now, you know where to come?” So he knew Jackal was tailing him. As much as Sentry despised his brother, Jackal was an excellent hunter, which meant Gortash was far more clever than he thought. Or he had far better resources. This alliance would be much more beneficial than he'd dreamed and when it was over, the aftermath would be so much sweeter.

“Yes, of course. But for now, it's really time we got these things home...although...” His eyes fell to the surviving, cowering non-combatants Gortash had kneeling and trembling in a row. Sentry's bright eyes flicked back to the tyrant with the look of a date who has seen some fine jewelry in a shop. “May I? My halberd is thirsty, it didn't like being set aside for the smaller blades...and after all, I have such a vision in mind, it will require a lot of ribs.” “Be my guest, dear Executioner, after all, I've always wondered why you're called that.” Gortash bowed graciously and stood back, arms folded across his chest making him look quite imposing in the black horned half-mask he wore, hands painted jet black beneath his gauntlet. Sentry nodded and drew his weapon, the true extension of his form as much as any brush or chisel and every bit a tool of his artistry. The Banite guarding them looked to Gortash briefly and the lordling motioned for him to step back and give the command. “Right, necks out, you lot!” The burly armored woman barked. As if dragged by the hand of Bane himself, the frightened archivists were forced forward on their hands and knees, necks bared and ready. Sentry clutched his halberd tightly and breathed in the scent of their fear. Exquisite. He raised the weapon and in the blink of an eye, the first head rolled to the floor in a glorious spray of crimson. Each cut was clean and precise and as each body fell separated from its head, Sceleritas and the beautiful elf lovingly began extracting the parts Sentry requested for his projects.

When the last head rolled, Sentry knelt in the pooling blood, lowering his hands into it and painting his face slowly and reverently. He bowed his head and clasped his hands in prayer, eyes closed and voice silent for some time. Finally he rose to his feet and looked across the room, mismatched eyes meeting deep, dark emerald. The feeling was electric. Sentry felt it and so did Gortash. As the Bhaalists and Banites left the scene of slaughter with their prizes in tow, the two knew this would not be the last time they saw eachother, not even close.

#baldurs gate 3 #tiefling #baldur's gate 3 #oc #durge #dark urge #lord enver gortash #gortash x durge #enver gortash #fanfic #writing

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writernopal · 2 years ago

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Get To Know My OC - Pt. 4

The fourth and final part! It’s time for the ever-elusive Wilkes 👀

Again, leaving this as an open tag! ♥️

You wipe the nervous sweat from your forehead and listen to Fay’s muffled and angry voice just outside in the corridor. But she’s not speaking in Common as she’d been speaking with you. The tongue that she speaks now is one marked with rich-sounding stops, complicated diphthongs, and a myriad of hisses and aspirant sounds which, to your ears, seem randomly arranged. You wonder if she might be speaking to herself when another more even-toned, deep, and near gravely voice responds in the same language. As the owner of this new, calm one speaks, Fay’s voice takes on a similar tone of ease until they bid one another what must be a goodbye, and the door opens. The man who enters can only be described as a beast. He bows to fit his impressive height through the door that now looks like it was constructed for gnomes. His hulking frame is padded with an almost obnoxious amount of muscle but not enough to obscure the slight sag and wrinkle of his scales. Still, it’s almost impossible to believe that he and Axtapor could be of the same species! He has a long tail and a snout, just like Axtapor, but that is where their similarities end. This man is the palest white with striking red eyes, and a brilliant-looking ruby mounted on his forehead. He possesses a great white feathered mane and white beard to match and, unlike the others from before, wears a pleasant smile. The way he smiles at you is akin to someone meeting a dear old friend after many years, and the ease of the way his robes flow around his body, combined with the pleasant twinkling of his jewelry, washes a strange calm over you. He braces himself on the arms of the chair, grunting as he takes a seat and settles in.

1. Are you named after anyone?

My father. He replies with a placid look. He was a great soldier in his heyday. Good man.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I have all I could wish for. There is no need to cry. His smile has yet to fade.

3. Do you have kids?

He sighs and shakes his head. No.

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Only in special circumstances. He shifts in his seat to fetch a pipe from his pocket. You watch him prepare and light it, but unlike Axtapor’s method, his is stiff and rehearsed.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Everything. The stone on his forehead seems to glimmer even brighter upon giving you his response as he takes a puff.

6. What’s your eye color?

Red. He smiles, expelling smoke from his nostrils.

7. Scary Stories or Happy Endings?

He thinks for a moment. Whatever can be leveraged.

8. Any special talents?

Yes. He bows his head ever so slightly, and the stone catches the light. However, it is not polite to gloat about it.

9. Where were you born?

Tlanxla. His answer seems incomplete.

10. What are your hobbies?

I don’t have any. There is nothing in particular that interests me so much, and I have enough to do. He responds with yet another smile.

11. Do you have any pets?

No. I have no interest in things of that sort.

12. What sports do you play/have played?

I excelled at many sports in my youth, but I enjoy tests of the mind far more, as most men of my age do. He responds with a chuckle.

13. How tall are you?

7’0”, if I recall the figure correctly. He seems to travel somewhere in his mind for a moment. Yes. 7’0”.

14. Favorite subject in school?

Can’t say I had one. He thinks for a moment. No, I had no such preference.

15. Dream job?

One could hardly call it a ‘job,’ but I rather like the idea of growing even more old and wrinkled. He smiles to himself but only for a moment. Yes. Age.

Wilkes is Fay's husband, her trusty right hand, and also the oldest of the MC AASOAF cast, sitting at a comfortable 45😌

He's going a bit senile... or is he?

#get to know my oc #aasoaf #wilkes #open tag #interview with your oc #tag game

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mint-moon25 · 1 month ago

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ITZY "Imaginary Friend" M/V BEHIND

youtube

Dear Korean Girls,

City of Miami Pretended

2b - Payee - White - Cars

Human Services

2 photograph my State ID

Naturalization - Just 2 spy

On what Homeless - have

Their Connection

HUD New Horizons CMHC

They only fill up HUD Miami

With Mentally Ill

City of Miami feel Homeless

Are Mentally Ill

Do - Human Trafficking

2 Little Havana where

Social Security is

Hispanic Men there

Huge Thick - Knives

$0.89

Solution - Magnetic

Bracelets 2 Obtain

Possession of Deadly

Weapon - Not Concealed

Many have Crime Record

Florida - 21 and older

Drink age - No Felony

Concealed Weapons

Specified

Publix Whole Foods Ikea

Social Security - New

Horizons - Same sign

Violate - 2nd Amendment

Our 300 Million - Chinese

Soldiers - First we Disarm

All these Groceries - IKEA

They say Firearm Free

Environment - Sell KNIVES

Hypocrites that produced

One Day - Christian Hitler

And his Friends

Killed over 6 million Jews

Like Korean Kingdoms

Slaughtered New Catholics

Just touching Rosaries

Sliced wrists of Babies

Europeans just 1 min

Odorless Gas Deaths

Peaceful - Fast Done

Koreans - Sworded to

Death Other Religions

So Joana - City Miami

Lied about City Payee

Tried 2 Baker Act - me

Vegan - White Bread

3 per day - Vegetables

And Milk or Water

3 Days

9 years - Mental Hospital

Philippines - For the Rich

As Nurses

Manila - Killed Babies

Poisoned Moms who said

Yes 2 Installment

USA - Korea - Philippines

Alies - what 2 do about

Rich Foreigners

Blk Joana - City Miami

Their Job - Steal ID

Miami Police - Stole my

Purse - Neck Fan

Future - Police - Ended

Sheriff - Ended

Weekends - New Prison

Activate Pulse - Murders

Jealousy - Hatred Racists

They Disappear

City of Miami

Miami Police

Stole - My Cards

Their Goal - Disappear

Homeless - Street clean

Bladder - Kidney

$9,000 - each

Burn Bodies - Doral West

Little Havana - Bodies

Burnt - Things Garbaged

14th Amendment

Trashed in Florida

Leaving after Books

Interior Design

Debbie Macomber

Romance Book to

Read Here Library

#Youtube

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lebibish · 1 month ago

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Dear Yuletide Author,

Thank you for participating in this incredible event. I love Yuletide so much and I look forward to it throughout the year. I hope you have fun writing, I know I will enjoy reading whatever you put together!

In general, I love worldbuilding and cultural details, family relationships (I am especially all about the sibling feels—found family and family you were raised with equally), extremely competent characters, discovering secrets, mythology, and discovering/building competence. You know how training montages are common tropes for saving time in a series? I’d be a happy clam if those were expanded into entire series where I could watch people building their skills, connecting to the people around them, and learning more about the world. I adore fantasy world-building—the concept of everyday magic, for example, where everyone has their own little piece of the world (always knowing when the phone is about to ring or being able to call how many times a rock will skip on the water) or integrated magic systems where the society has been built around a magic system. I like stories about hope, about survivors who find joy and comfort together (not a request this year, but Kipo and the Wonderbeasts is a great example of the kind of “dystopia” I really love—where people are rediscovering how wonderful the world can be even when there are a lot of terrible things).

Anything from gen to smut is welcome, angst with a happy ending is fine but the happy ending is key, kidfic is lovely, all types of pairings or no pairings at all work. If you present me with a love triangle my go-to solution is always polyamory. I’m kink!positive.

DNW: Please no child death, death of pets, grim!dark, infidelity (polyamory requires enthusiastic consent from all parties). Specific DNW for Fear Street: I am completely uninterested in Nick Goode apologism or redemption.

Ideas are always suggestions, optional details are optional, tell me a story you enjoy telling!"

Optional Details are Optional. I provide prompts because I find them helpful as a write but feel free to write a story that is about what you love!

Fear Street Trilogy (Movies 2021)

• Character: Sarah Fier (Fear Street)

• Why I love this: It's mostly the queer women representation and characters of color surviving a horror film. A little bit the way it leans into how horror movies are an exploration of anxiety and social tension with the theme of rich white men exploiting poorer, browner communities. A little bit the hints of lore. Also, the strong friendships throughout as well as the sisterhood in 1978.

• Prompts: 1. Sarah Fier and Hannah Miller get a happy ending in 1666--running off into the woods together to be witchy women? Having lavender marriages with 2 guys who are either gay or asexual themselves? 2. Sarah Fier's ghost lingers after her death (think of Thackery Binx from Hocus Pocus), trying to help the Goode's victims. 3. Deepen the lore: How did Union end up split into Shadyside and Sunnyvale? Where did the old woman in the woods get that book in the first place? Specific DNW for Fear Street: I am completely uninterested in Nick Goode apologism or redemption.

쌍갑포차 | Mystic Pop-up Bar (TV)

- Character: Guibanjang | Crown Prince Yi Hon, Weol Jul

- Why I love this: I love the found family feel—sure, it turns out they were “real” family all along, but to me the “we found our way together and started healing” stands out more. I really enjoyed the episodes where we got to see more Guibanjang super!competent badass (and him settling into a life of adoring his wife, bantering, and cooking is really cute). I love Weol Ju’s determination and deep, deep love and the way she always tries to seem cool and unattached and uncaring but always being a deeply empathetic person. I really like the dreamworld aspect—we’re going to help you solve your emotions and mental blocks and empower you to solve your own real life issues yourself.

- Prompts: 1. Han Kang Bae gains some memories of the past events from (the tree? The child’s spirit?) but I’d love to see Weol Ju and Guibanjang telling their story to him from their own perspectives (maybe with some Rashomon Effect shenanigans). AND/OR Weol Ju and Guibanjang telling stories to Han Kang Bae of their “jobs” in the afterlife—maybe competing to seem cooler/more competent in front of their son, maybe bickering back and forth about “rumors they heard” about the other person. 2. Settling back into their old “jobs” but feeling out these relationships which aren’t new except that now everyone has the same amount of information which changes things in a myriad of different ways. Case!fic is always lovely.

Jeeves & Wooster

- Character: Wooster, Jeeves

- Why I love this: I enjoy the shenanigans. I greatly enjoy Jeeves’ competence and I find Bertie kind of sweet. Jeeves being oh so clever but also devoted to his rather ridiculous man is enjoyable, the relationship negotiations that constantly happen (Whether it’s a romantic or platonic relationship doesn’t matter—there’s a lot of interesting negotiations happening!

- Prompts: 1. I’m kind of fascinated by the idea of taking some of the female characters and exploring some WLW/MLM solidarity—in the form of a lavender marriage or just some friendship and support. 2. This is definitely a setting where I would be fascinated to see how the addition of some kind of magic did or did not change elements of the canon. Either a well-known magic system (like in the Sorcery and Cecelia books if you know those), or some of the Tumblr strings of thought where everyone has a small magic like the ability to always find your keys or knowing the weather without looking outside, or a hidden magic system that Bertie stumbles on. Or possibly one where Bertie has magic and he’s been keeping it hidden from Jeeves—I also greatly enjoy when someone has hidden depths and we get to discover the ways in which they’ve been underestimated.

Nimona (2023)

- Character: Gloreth

- Why I love this: The fairy tale atmosphere, the subversion of fairy tales asking what does it mean to be a villain, Nimona's whole everything. I do love Ballister/Ambrosius too.

- Prompts: 1. Five ways Gloreth could have made a different choice? Friendship or femslash. 2. Gloreth in the modern age reconnects with Nimona (reincarnation? Sleeping Beauty-style curse?) 3. Gloreth's line from the building of the wall to its destruction (Ambrosius basically represents the redemption of their line). What is outside the wall? How does a city sustain itself within a wall like that? How did Gloreth as hero become an idea that only nobles could be knights?

Raya and the Last Dragon (2021)

- Characters: Raya, Namaari

- Why I love this: Badass women. Also has a found family potential. Worldbuilding based on southeast Asian cultures.

- Prompts: 1. The missing time – Raya growing up. The fact that she and Namaari clearly have continued to run into each other as they grew up and what that looked like (and yes, I very much ship Raya/Namaari). 2. Or maybe the perspectives of Raya’s father and Namaari’s mother through the movie and after. 3. Maybe what it means to Kumandra that the dragons are back and how do you learn to trust people when that trust has been lost and broken for such a long time? 4. Or, hey, time travel fix it fic. Or lean into the cultural worldbuilding.

철인왕후 | Mr. Queen (TV)

- Jang Bong Hwan (Mr. Queen)

- Why I love this: Because every single moment of this show is Queer. Because several characters are living in completely different genres and the show manages to seamlessly tie them together into a story. Because the love story felt very real to me. Because Bong-hwan’s cooking was amazing and the fact that he kept retreating into a place where he felt comfortable and confident meant so much to me, because there were so many DETAILS they paid attention to including what modern convenience and global trade networks mean to ingredient sourcing and how ridiculous some of his demands were in the time period. Because so many relationships were important and interesting.

- Prompts: I pretty firmly believe that Jang Bong-hwan was Kim So-yong’s reincarnation, so anything incorporating that (like, I think that after her experiences of powerless as a woman, when she killed herself she insisted on being reborn as a man, and because she wasn’t supposed to die (or a lake spirit took pity on her? IDK), her future self was called back into her past self to fix things. I’d be interested to see the changes made in Korea, the butterfly effect of the past, and Jang Bong-hwan finding his own happy ending. I’d be interested to see Kim So-yong with both sets of memories, figuring out who she wants to be. I’m also a sucker for outsider pov—so the perspectives of other characters during or after the show.

May the Yuletide Goat bless you!

Lebibish

#yuletide #yuletide letter #fix #fic prompts

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libidomechanica · 1 month ago

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Untitled Composition # 12685

A limerick sequence

Lord, and the beaded-curtains, and noble fire on earthwards burning she laye, and quite independ? Amen. And would not do. Bearing heart to bestadde? How often hate!

I, bluebells; the sill, helpe me the river. He also witen eche onely men in his feeling— as in a haze of inconstant of seasoning sunflowers.

For shade alone, so I hurl myself— and you ask, whose lines to die. And breath! Push your hope no more, for I never their ocean, and whither, then sneer’d; that equal task!

White starres through rude affright! And in her so soft, at the rose. Wild night, but shakes her dreadful thing, thou art common—my lady’s quite. Well down o’er they will not make heede.

Loving, the sea together, I am trying ankle? Meek Daughter in the recorder should be thy though I have glaring of thee, Cynara! Though oft he purchase.

Still kissed her songs and ouer the beau monde, exact beloved; but bespeak silent night thy west side cafe, dealing kind. And hence, but the wing, as thou hast the quiet.

Old dwarf heart them any good advice. At preventeen, to Shepheards twayne: for the best: t was never speak? Thy golden sun from enuied, all with the marmalade, there!

—’Tis decorum. Nor praises, and only this time espy, thy sacred vestments many brittle I then sweet, labour and silks, innumerable to show! But, ah!

Greeting the distant wing as summer’s day, who wake in the rest. Tristan und Isolde is for presume not and pure. We might as thou dare to bewailest for your parts.

She wants to Lucy hould I? But in excess! I, that prove what undoes me, as we face divine came on, any common-place, ever at his voice I see the day.

And was searched, through the sagest your sound of children: saying: for deceits, all aloud; it hear the day believed his side cafe, dealing kind. What doth parturition.

This tumult in some truth; a smooth rocks! Now will be thy soul quite enough at the wind, where rich in thy blooms, and infant lips, and palely loitering bed. To keepe.

And never like the loss of her you … mother, who like Amyntas; the green, the best, and this was queen- priestess! And next a quarrel, when you may be dear, my Philly!

Are designed his gold; she nails him down to hear my mother shows not yet for vs, home in life. That makes me his granary is shown, who would fain would have places.

For his hands in the world’s garden, to brydle loue, some here, the moon, allow’d walls! And catch a falling souls, whose lovers breakfast, your arms, and love youth is golden day.

For Younkers Palinodes Embleme. Passion, to prepares the cause of ioy, while far as I slept, kind abuse. Never be But, oh, hide that point d’appui is foiled.

Of the hind-part in traffic on the streams departed proved by the kiss’d heaven, as must own,—althoughts that flinty savage dares supposed at merry playen her. Give me.

But tell vs that dusk with baile, nor cloudes from love, thy life is of infamy: and where all the Nine. How the billows thee puts all well-bred—most rich in the dead.

And she is. This is they playe: such another the sun thoughts to remember: the telling, where lives like courtly van on birth as t was. You heare. Mouths, thirst foresay.

Tell me from car to me, had leuer my mouth sips: Ay, in the wild world knock at her people to love, I am glad love is lesson misse, hath the father’s voice, her eye.

Ere beside—nor envy your brings mutual pities healèd me, to fyll thee, while their delight. Ah deare for us. That was my tears out of that scene; they might to see.

I hid my love to the lamp is shaking through dread the wind blows; ’ and forgat to the air is greets the sea look; with as inditers are not a breath? But when she’s used.

Chaste were it was his heart, so long! Found me here decay we’re every casual on a monk may descend, and on my time, me lusteth no mixtures, were the old stories.

And what are coin’d in the room the rain. For I never feel my flower to be bored or doomed to dress was like to morrowe. Gone is stuck in turn,—Why do to Jason’s.

Nor with Senses obiects be; while he says, I’ll never said—indeed a nation’s mint, or on the earth, defac’d its inner craned, and more in the worse. And the lamplight.

Foul as they translated, means this bed. And fold him, he scale within its string, if you had bribed him leaves change? Do swell the scepter of light there he before the mirror.

Thrice have gone nearer to be a Jew. Of his body take. For grief of my dull or pert; and eating each the digestion? He lends that can be. A rule how it weeps!

Alone, shee could not better; and, us to join, the Agèd Host, a beggar at another. I shall I for a moment, itself, for all you canst—and leaves change!

No redress; wherein was his artfully expectation. Deference between the glaunce euen so high Hall- garden of the Humour evenings are fraught but let vs home.

Firstly, he squirrel’s granary is shaken me away: thanke you, my Friendship in a certe. Dearest; which she thou, Abelard it came; he whole life willing and change?

Of my thou not a sigh had nothing love. And how shoulders beare, I have brought of them the quiet scenes appeared them hovering appeared into thee. Day without a friend!

Thus let us prove was her blotte. Has our flock desert vast vale of Wyoming floor, can charming Polly Stewart, to refer young or says, Is this world grows weary.

For as loving sweet music and solace your past years as calm in thy credit as a reed with singing to the dusky strange she acted. To bed is lov’d a Man.

My mother our luxury! Then other’s sound low, and Stellas rayes, one is warden;—I will be either might deem themselves do work away from soul is done to live.

So haggard and more the best, in my hair woman, quite. Not a red rose. Wood; It isn’t the vows the beaded- curtains, and the meane, I dare not too long I’ve got any.

Were crying to go with potent spell. At last her other name. There made aware. Is diffuse; but I’ll lay halfway up an ugly hill inuade the tow’ry fears drink?

No doubt the sea. Tho markes each wish to prepare you rush on, and my image steal o’er the casuist in mournful Psyche, nor leave my trousers, a conversation.

That was youth. Wish it bring; but, light wind serves in one, settled either minded not content to me it needs none accordings, and sing a figures do worke my madness.

Dull before that hides your home, my sunne in men of elder with great light astronomers agreed Willy. Them from which Pan the Marvel then speak their becomes to climb.

There is, translates the think of the stars. Or if Delusion: for decisions serve. Soon as thou arrived. There was Maud, Maud by the depart nource of that you oil my scalp.

Your choose to turn back my last axiom, he scarce belied; and, how much Adeline waies, to build up saying in the duke, and that proue, but if some severall Shape.

In the water rue. Unless truth, as double young Damon love you, a kind t’ a beast is mute—no song neuer shalt taste that hides his own. To field, the old stories.

And how should I then, when shepheards ioye, how would fall as the place—we’ll take heede. Though unseen a pure airy flight. Not share; which leads so oft amiss ladies and a frenne.

I know, thankfull part thou art made no bones. Ask, whose lips breasts a bubbles that faith, and she wise, and eating shadow’d walls. Soon, full, and yet was brown the proud, through dreary.

Sad, slowly die I knew as man’s kiss, life passes. Talking of person the leap, and sing old words to dash thy nest any other, as thou of the little silver.

All be description loses ev’ry hymn to her, all within the strenuous tongued laureate’s the blest. Or on my plain of, or restraint, and there there, is false fair.

Those night and prince; no doubt, change thy creditors regret, condemn’d the dore towards Loue to light routes, survive not your cradle, you say you’re whom? It pours such end had the heart.

It will come and betraying, then, young life on second Rights in one-night to the paths so dearest, until thee. Sore again and think every word were his father name.

For our own the fond vision I could perpendicular. Not beware, seeking the greete, and the doctor, says margarita she means, Put you push your otherwise?

For where forsooth—at least thoughts be dead when the dare, hys pleasant. Sprout: they at every foolish boy, that precious reade in me the body would writers when you may brings.

She had chosen with fine Conceits, all sweet love, and garden when as goodly verdure flings, I have lied. Yet the listening belates, haunted space I go, where I do.

The horrid thorny soile to thee, heart giu’n me things I do, because in rebel arms? As kidde mought his mornings and face, secret influence’ is a saint or small?

How the wild-wood flower call’d glory! She didn’t see how it weeps through the tender flower; like the could not brew a passage to till? Filled with fearful steps, each person!

Who eats and honey to sadden her faire a sadness, chasten the heavy pace: let all has change there the throne, crowned. Are apt exceeding like a history less dreary.

Tis Christ! That shall being demon of hunting, as must banish’d days and please long, speakest of repulsion troopers riding breast, I vex my heart out a kissogram.

By various for you will be quite regard to leaue there on the rest? Maud is no dislike old lips I’ll betray us. To opposition of the woman love.

Glows; a paper. Dost mountains, and chaunce euen? It has been fire, O help! Now ryse vp Elisa, decked in vain Philosophy’s aye- babbling lightnings spring frankly night!

I’ver also had a morning fever! But thou art may rise against thy prayed, then how should be, rather the dead, come, sister, where they knee is past; thou euer since more!

More than fictions, tender stopped not even of blood waltzes. And the treasure the pink grew thee, will dictates, long-stemmed plant against us and humble; in the Violet.

And swete Eglantine, and tune taken the gems and we closets, silk, or losse. ’Er to fill, and runs about the cover from her beauty that so complaintiue pleaseth me.

My doole that flower stand stars, timing indignantly in love, like mist o’er it blaws, it is so rash as rare, the streams, all in fairer far than he. To have lied.

As he mopeth idly in the gods the great mone. And how should weary wastes ligge soft, liquid words spontaneous as anything more a-roving kisse again! Come!

Of my smart, forsake. But they set you. To care and be among. All days of nightly cryes, I have touch a looks familiar. Forgive mine own fingertaps and whole soup.

A weak, a soul put out again, the heart away; give the golden shepheard to all day long it—’tis deare sight, a wanton Satyr he before me. Looking to her.

She shall lean here without a rodde dear object strange. Says margarita she may bear the stair—clasp your true than if spring on earth, I would my curious and die.

Find it, althoughts dim and removèd by our flock deserts led. The glow of youth is fed; like here of human miracle; and I believe my wit for she was bom old.

Fickle Fair can here on whose gaps I watch. Indeed a good woman blush, and cries: my foe, those afternoon, their falshode more attracts by a man, that night not augment.

End Had it like birds of fond fan her abide by her bright in upon a winter breast, I vex my heart asleep! Nay say I only pitie to my soul’s sleep … tired.

Thereby, the lot of life—immortal purity; they so formed be! A teare. You heare. Holds out of dispraise saying heate? With misgouernaunce, that I cannot covet most.

But, light of myrtles go, in faithful to its game at billiards—it all doubting or continue their Violines.—If one, each time do floweth Helicon their pole!

And the door, retires, they are scatter’d charmed, that the same beneath of woes. The staircase who resemble’ of his modern peers, appeared the lips I kiss’d her tyrant part?

And, t will be dead, come, too, especial legend or God to rove: look at my family likeness and not to dust I roll, suck my last night! Let’s not what we must first.

There in heauenly race,—a quality agree; wit temper Juan’s faults of lust to yield. Where to possessed. Like that faded stars! But I was any stone, and neare those koi.

His griefe, with her to gape for the time for the breast the snow, which creditors when at they willing mine. Where Beauty of works and thee nakedness through she that a peach?

She holds in her heardest the seeds of her bright it once more deal in generate a mournful family! Provoking to thy word said was given in love can succeed.

&Then in drink the spring.&When the wind, flung rose, another selfe did foyle thy young day, and new, and the Catholic creed some concern about they were such are better, too.

The first set my bliss, dearest dells, when look like to bleeding Youth, and always what in the way you do not this way like a fire, and long we were we move? But on death.

But ere he well, teach mild, each with these wild. My heart, the twaine, if there. And hung over moor and die. So sure of love divisible good glee, and either old or new.

To find stellas greater of light. And of death? Cannot what nought winne some good- bye. Love is no woe, when approach, I lovd so deare. My yet you. The circle smile deceased.

Or how the conditionly, this year where I will say: I am Lazarus, come! Their secret—cunning round forth sweet kisses and awful shalt taste liaison forgot.

This year had exploded symmetrical pretence, not by rude man has happy static of the sense and face; and the heav’nly- pensive Sara! So intense it fain’d.

If every form, or the yeare, like knots. Know the villain need to fear that is no more sweetest thou can e’er be drowsy day that circumstance led me thou spend the gout.

As tis man who ventures pensive Sara! And corrupt. By silent seventeen, that long I’ve always dark and for Perigot, I left but this rebell mildly blue.

And now, you are not youth to die so. ’Tis no shame shines but their pole, the pond’s edge where to give to see though I have been fire, and died as at breath of my hand—the name.

I should sure, and lie couched at me all Ladyes of woes. Thenceforth shepheards in spring appeare, is hauty hornes gan newly sprout: they know him as forstall my woes.

And wave of teares on might from whose uttered the horse move in vain Philosophy, less like a weeping so and sick of course can be. Where flames; but gauds; nay, while you?

Another there I close milliards. Within, abroad, which our conversation, one is caution, boldly refer to, I think, ere you, because she therefore there! And you.

Tho on thee climb’d Eve from pole; rise Alps be such if though she is mute—no song after us: this pack, and brought. ’Re whites showing before his fire and elegant scars.

When she had rather things but as if it bringen soote, in the learne spell. Come, if they taught to underground the Catholic creed so strictionaries me false Foxe by this.

And open wyde. When I did I never beauties Queene attone waving goes; with a wand of the summer breath, less fancies dwell vile savage dare, seeing him outdo.

Who have been faithful to its river. The church my bale will; but forgot, and love to treated in the cream on the realme of war What shall be there we slumbering new.

For what vengeance snatch my passion, yea, I was in t, alone hand. Like April should understand struggle with his vnder colour of the pensill laid: a Countenance.

Some and she is at the cock can supple me, i’ll not be or stately height of beauty was ripe; a sounds strange sight of foot along as the river. Deluded swaine.

Ride ten their God to reveal’d, nor tears! Drinking moving our very foole, th’other moe. Sleep and the great in our wood; and heav’nly pass into a Churchill Downs are.

Or if Delusion carcas abounds straddling-band. I love itself shall not too lavishly are both did hang nodding can represence present myself to the heart.

Then listneth ech vnto my ear without much strong waves then they some grace! I can no more bronze and runs about in fiction taught to sleepe in songs and wayward roundelay.

Shall be when mine the Babe! Seems the landlord makes Love—who in the long we were she, which had not half, damn’d to Heav’n, I weep is all blind brand his hauty hornes did speak?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #171 texts #limerick sequence

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valley9irl9limmer · 1 year ago

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VALLEY 9IRL TIMES ୧₊˚

ENTRY 07. 🏹

Dear Girlbloggers,

We have a new enemy on the rise and her name is 5 billionaires with too much time on their hands.

In light of their deserved deaths we have our new topic, that ridiculous submarine.

It was so blatantly obvious that little pill box was going no where. I mean the man constantly cancelled rides because it was always breaking down. Matter of fact, it broke down that day and they STILL went. At some point we have to dust our hands off and let them do what they want, especially if it’s that stupid.

People slave daily to provide for their kids and don’t see half of the money those men have seen in their lives and wasted, so it’s insanely hard for me to care. In 2019 Charles Schwab brokerage firm recorded that 59% of U.S. citizens are one paycheck away from being homeless…but you want to waste money on a little constipation pull controlled by a PS4 controller!?! Oh okay. And I know that stat went up it’s been 3 almost 4 years.

My sympathy can only go so far. Really.

Not to mention, there’s a ship filled with 500 immigrants lost at sea and we didn’t put any resources out there to find them. Meanwhile, those rich idiots had us practically breaking the bank on a manhunt, sending everyone and their mom to go find them. And the reward was supposed to be insane.

If me saying it was clearly a cry for help doesn’t tell you something, how about one of the former passagers calling it a suicide mission. (Shoutout to Arthur Loibl!! 😘 )

White men with too much time and money on their hands are a virus I’m telling you.

How y’all build your generational wealth up for this…

All this reporting for the thing to have self-imploded a few hundred feet down.

If there are any more rich people willing to waste their money they can come “waste” it on me. I’ll put it to good use.

Xoxo, valley9irl9limmer

#baby pink #coqeutte #girlblogging #pink aesthetic #softcore #soft pink #femcel #gaslight gatekeep girlblog #sprinkle sprinkle #coquette aesthetic #coquettecore #lizzy grant #virgin suicides #fiona apple

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the-acer-scientist · 2 years ago

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hello, internet. lovely day to ponder into the void, isn’t it? how wonderful it is that I can just posit my queries on my silly little blog secure in the knowledge that probably no one will actually see this, myself included.

so here is my conundrum, my dearest echoing, empty void. is there a way to tell people-pleasing apart from a genuine reason to be concerned? strange question, I know, but hear me out.

I am non-binary. I take immeasurable pride from being able to write that out, and to say it to the friends I love and cherish. It is a core piece of my being, and I’ve reached the point where I am so comfortable in my identity that getting she/her-ed feels like a kick in the chest. One that I am fully capable of dealing with, no doubt, but a swift kick nonetheless.

And so, my dear nonexistent reader, riddle me this: how do I know whether and to whom to come out? Because here’s the dealio. I’m an academic, and it feels like the only faster route to ridicule and discrediting than being a Woman in STEM is being Non-Binary in STEM. Because women have a place in stem that they have carved out for themselves, and frankly more power to yall. I can’t express how much it means that my field is not exclusively rich white men anymore. But, and here I will admit that I’m only an undergrad and have far from the whole view of things, I’ve never met another enby high-level academic. And so, dear nonexistent reader, not only do I fear facing transphobia in a direct way (that frankly and thankfully I’ve never directly experienced because I tend to present andro at best and cisfemme on average), I fear that transphobia will prevent me from reaching the heights that I want so desperately to reach.

Fear number two (thanks, crippling self-doubt!!) is that in coming out, I will pose an inconvenience, or worse, an annoyance to those I inflict my identity upon.

I want to tell Mel because it’s important to me that she knows me for me, but if I tell her, not only will it be difficult for her to adjust but also she then runs the risk of, in her lovely and wonderful and amazingly supportive self, accidentally outing me in a place that would be incredibly unsafe for me to be outed in, and for me to ask her to keep that secret for my own comfort is an unnecessary burden.

I want to tell Dr S, because even though I know it’ll never come up in class because he doesn’t ever refer to us, he just lectures and leaves, I want to be understood and I think given some of his sidebars that he would understand. At least a little. And yet, it’s a huge ask to ask someone 3/4 of the way through a semester, when I won’t even see him for more than two more months or so, to readjust his whole perception of me! what right do I have to add that additional stress of remembering me specifically and my specific pronouns out of the hundreds of students he teaches?

I want to tell Dr F, because by the gods below I need him to perceive me because his mentorship means more than the world to me and I can’t imagine how euphoric it would be to hear my pronouns used in the same sentence as discussions of my thesis project. And yet, again, difficult adjustment and running the risk of outing me to people who have been actively transphobic because said people have known me as ‘her’ for so long that the second Dr F ‘they’s me, it’s going to register and I’m going to have to answer questions I don’t want to answer. And, if the whole point is that I’m referred to correctly, does it not defeat the purpose to then add the caveat of ‘only around certain people?’ to assuage my fears about my own identity?

So, my dearest and most darling echo, how do I know whether the fear of systematic transphobia is a valid reason to safeguard my identity or whether it’s just a mind-blockage because I don’t want to be an inconvenience?

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gatekeeper-watchman · 2 years ago

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Daily Devotionals for May 5, 2023

Proverbs: God's Wisdom for Daily Living Devotional Scripture: Proverbs 15:25-27(KJV): 25 The LORD will destroy the house of the proud: but he will establish the border of the widow. 26 The thoughts of the wicked are an abomination to the LORD: but the words of the pure are pleasant. 27 He that is greedy of gain troubleth his own house; but he that hateth gifts shall live. Proverbs 15:25-27(Amp): 25 The Lord tears down the house of the proud, but He will make secure the boundaries of the (consecrated) widow. 26 The thoughts of the wicked are shamefully vile and exceedingly offensive to the Lord, but the words of the pure are pleasing words to Him. 27 He who is greedy for unjust gain troubles his household, but he who hates bribes will live.

Thought for the Day

Prayer Devotional for the Day

Dear heavenly Father, thank you for all the good things You have given us. Lord, we want to be like You, so help us do those things that bless You. May our thoughts and deeds be pleasing to You. Deliver us from the evil temptations that would cause us to fall from Your grace. Lord, set us free from all pride, greed, and fear. Let us be like You and treat all men around us, fairly and justly. Keep us from manipulation, so that we obey You, no matter what the cost to us personally. Help me to always do the right thing and may the meditations of my heart be pleasing to You. I ask this in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen. Founder of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups Friday, May 5, 2023 Jacksonville, Florida., Duval County, USA. https://www.facebook.com/groups/Sparkermiller.JAX.FL.USA Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956, Twitter: @GatekeeperWatchman1, @ParkermillerQ, https://twitter.com/StevenPMiller6 Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gatekeeperwatchman, https://www.tumblr.com/gatekeeper-watchman Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/StevenParkerMillerQ #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #Ephraim1, #IAM, #Sparkermiller,#Eldermiller1981

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edai-crplpnk · 2 years ago

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Part 3: Thoughts and Feelings

I happen, as you may have guessed, to have many of those regarding tops and doms. This is a disorganised list of them made by me at 3am, I apologise in advance if it is a little messy maybe.

By default assume that I am always talking about mlm dynamics here because I am way to ignorant about wlw dynamics to say something interesting (outside of: i would really love to write a fic between my service top chara and a stone butch chara because i find it really touching when queer ppl of different communities bond over their own iteration of a common identity), and straight dynamics have common points but also a lot of different stake and for now I'm gonna leave it to them to figure out, I do not have the time for this lmao.

Also I have decided to give this list some pompous title to make it look like there's a plan so:

1 - Being a top makes you human

And being a bottom does, too.

Allow me to explain.

When I started being active in fandom, I was very wary of describing characters as tops or bottoms, and of anyone who did so. (Let's put it frankly: I was a little stupid.) I bought into the idea that it was objectifying and "fetishising" (and honestly now I try to avoid that word as much as possible because I've found that 9 times out of 10 the people involved in the discussion would be unable to define what they mean by that, and so would I). That people were people, not tops and bottoms, and that reducing someone to this was bound to be dehumanising.

Dear readers: it is not.

To me, this idea comes from the same place as stuff like, "I think everyone would be bi without social norms/is actually bi/should be bi." or, "If there were no patriarchy/social norms, no one would be trans."

First of all, we don't live in a patriarchy-free society and most likely won't, while it's not a good reason not to try to get there, it's absurd to base your reflection of what life would be like in that hypothetical words to talk about how we should act in the real one.

But what is more important for me here is that this also comes voluntarily or not, along with the idea that people would not have an identity in an ideal world. And I am not fond of that. My gender, my manhood, and my masculinity are not things that are sad collateral damage from a brutal society. They are a joyful part of what makes me human. My love and attraction for men is not a restricted view of humanity. It's genuine and rich and extensive.

People have tastes and preferences and that's good, that's what makes them people. To give my characters sexual preferences and feelings about the various position they could be put in or take on during sex is not reductive, on the contrary. It's rich and it makes them diverse and distinct and it gives them an individual essence that is not that of every single other around them.

I will try to not ramble too much about my own personal life here, but I will just say that being helped to understand all of this has also done tremendous things to my ability to accept and embrace the fact that I am a gay man, because it has allowed me to view it as the joy and rich and precious individuality and shared love that it is, rather than the previous framing of it that I had of it being somehow a fault because, I'm not gonna lie to you, living in primarily queer and feminist spaces does not always make it easy to be able to think "men are neat". (And while I absolutely understand why because it is true that the violence brought by men, in general, onto women, in general, is extreme and entirely disproportionate to how it goes the other way around, the way it's framed is still an issue if it makes gay and trans men hate themselves or gives the tool to white women to threaten and get black men killed, but I digress.)

2 - Clichés are okay sometimes, actually

I will nuance this, I promise.

Sometimes, when people say that having characters that are tops or bottoms is okay, they will put an addendum like "but it's important to not equate personality and top/bottom or dom/sub, you can have any looks and personality and be a top/bottom/dom/sub". And, of course, I agree with the sentiment, fem tops are cool, shy tops are cool, dominant bottoms are cool, you get the gist. Part of saying that tops and doms should be treated as humans and embraced in their diversity has to mean that you want characters of various looks and personalities to be tops and doms!

But I have some issues with that, or rather, with how some people frame and think it albeit really agreeing with the statement in itself.

First, as per point 1, I personally think that seeing sexual preferences and dynamics as part of the characters' personalities is important and humanising. So while, yes, tops can have various personalities, of course, I think that it's important that it doesn't mean "my character's preferences are entirely unrelated to their personality".

For example, in the second series I shared earlier, some of Kankurou's personality traits are that he likes to show affection to others by doing things for them and is quite domestic (he's shown loving to cook for his siblings for example), that he tends to catch on feelings very easily, but doesn't necessarily wants to act on them in a romantic/committed way, it's more that for him love and attraction are only very mildly separated, so while he doesn't want to date all of his hook ups (or any, really), he does tend to view those encounter as also a very emotionally charge things and that while not necessarily ashamed of that, he is someone who cherishes privacy and modesty a lot, and is not necessarily comfortable with exposing himself. These things transpire in him being primarily a top, or rather in the specific ways that he is. Part of the dynamic he likes is being able to put himself at the service of his partners because he is often quite emotionally invested in them and their pleasure, and finds joy and fulfilment in being able to provide this for them, while also often finding it a more comfortable position to be in because the focus is less on him and it allows him to be more private about how he feels and make it more about what his partner want and like and feel like.

It's not that someone with this personality has to be a top, a bottom could like all of that, mix and match works with almost any combination, but his identity as a top, how he does it and why he likes it are very directly tied to his personality, and it's cool.

The second thing is that often this will come alongside a suspicion for any character that will tick too many boxes of the same archetype. It's okay that a chara is a top, and maybe it's okay if their also the masculine, or tall, or dominant, or idk what other cliché associated with tops, but if he's all of that, then he will be seen as too cliché and therefore bad and unrealistic or objectifying. While I'm sure that's the case sometimes (many times even maybe, I genuinely don't know) and I understand where this suspicion comes from, I think that it's also important to recognise that some people just do fit certain stereotypes, and are still people.

There is intrinsic issues with clichés that are actively stigmatising (like, no, i will not answer "queers are groomers" by "it's a generalisation, but it's okay that some of us are" OF COURSE) but some are most problematic in that they make blanket statement and, more importantly, I think, in that they are viewed as a negative thing.

The main issue with "gays are effeminate and always friends with girls and they like shopping and not sports", for example, is that it's just plainly not true for a number of people, and it's dehumanising in that, once again, it negates the diversity of individuality within a given identity, but also it's that the sub-text (or sometimes full on text) is "and that's bad". Yes, I have a character that is gay and effeminate and always friends with girls and who likes shopping and not sports. The big difference between me and bigots is that I appreciate those are human traits that he has because he's a person, not categories made to other him without thinking about what they mean for him, and that I think he's neat and that it's cool he has things and people he likes and preferences that mark him as an individual.

The third thing is probably less important (or is it? I don't know anymore) but it's fair to say at this point I'm not trying to keep this short anyway so I will still say it. It's that another thing that can be heard is, "It's okay if you have stereotyped characters, as long as it's not All Of Your Characters. It means that it's just that, yes, some people to happen to fit stereotypes, but that they're just some within a larger diversity." and I think that I don't agree with the idea that characters have to be people.

I love to write characters that are people, as I think this whole post is making very clear, crafting characters that have complex personalities and personal tastes and strong individualities is something that is very dear and important and joyful to me. But I have also written things with characters that are no people, and I certainly have loved works that did the same.

What I mean by "characters that are not people" is that it's also an option to write characters as symbols, ideas, forms that are meant to represent complex or more general feelings or experiences, and not contain a human individuality and logic of a past and a set of traits and experiences building their present self. This is how an astronomical amount of art functions, paintings, poetry, tales and fables, myths, a lot of theatre, and I'm sure, even if maybe less, a lot of novel-type writing too.

This isn't an issue, and it's not an issue in porn either. I will use the word this time, it's okay to fetishise characters in porn. That's quite literally what porn and fetishes are for. Representation of erotic ideas, topoi, imaginary, figures, etc. within a human character that is not written like a person, is not bad, it's a lot of what porn is. (And it's not even what I write at all, I'm not defending my church here, I just think it's very valid and cool.)

I think that what is important is to be aware of it, both as writers and readers, when this is what we write or read, and that characters are created equal in this. If you have human and complex characters in your story but suddenly there's that one chara who is a symbol of an idea or a cliché and not meant to be treated as a person, especially if it's a marginalised character, we're getting into very iffy territories.

Of course, it's important to be mindful of the fact that stereotypical figures, symbols, fetishes and the rest are always soaked in harmful social norms and we have to think about that too, but that does mean we have to burn all and every symbolic figures and characters because, again, the harmful social norms will never be fully gone of anything you'll do. Better know that than do something that you think will free you of them but will only achieve to make you stop thinking about it.

3 - Hurting people is not easy nor inconsequential

We're entering more the dom side of this than the top side now. (And once again, although I wholeheartedly believe in and love sub tops and dom bottoms, I think it's dishonest to act like topping and dimming are not to things that are linked in our imaginaries whether we want it or not and that, therefore the issues regarding the representation of both of those are interconnected and interdependent, just as are, shall I say since I'm here, the way we think about men, and the way we think about masculinity, for example.)

I think there is an assumption that, of course, being a sub (especially in a context of more "intense" kink, like pain play or, idk, fisting or whatever) is challenging and vulnerable and potentially dangerous, so it's important to make sure the sub is really wanting and ready to receive that, but that since the dom is not the one in physical danger and isn't the one who is going to receive and suffer (albeit with pleasure) through this violence (albeit consented), it will be less challenging for them.

I don't think this is entirely wrong, just as I don't think that the same type of belief being held towards tops and bottom is, because there is often more intrinsic physical risk to bottoming and/or subbing than there is to topping and/or dimming. However, I think the depth of this disparity is really overestimated.

As someone who is both verse and switch, I will tell you that I find it immensely scarier to top and dom, and I say that even as bottoming is not exactly easy either lmao. (Another day we should talk about how sides don't get enough appreciation either. Writes sides! Over a fourth of my smut fics do not have anyone top or bottom. You don't even have to do any of this!)

Hurting people, even when they want and like it, is not easy. Being the one who is made to take all the decisions is not easy. Being the one mainly responsible for checking everyone's safety (which isn't always the dom's role, but often is) is not easy.

More generally this boils down to something that is very important and way more general than anything sex or BDSM-related to me that is: being in power is not intrinsically easy or comfortable. It is exactly what it says on the tin: more power. It will often come with more resources to protect yourself, and more autonomy so you can flee a situation of violence, so in that, yes, it is a protection, but it can still be a very violent situation to be put in. (For example if you can't see where I'm heading: men tend to have more resources to protect themselves or get away from situations of abuse, but male socialisation, in itself, is not intrinsically less traumatising than female socialisation is.)

All that to say, domming can be a very vulnerable and scary and draining position to be in, and it shouldn't be overlooked simply because it is often (and not even always) less physically dangerous.

What that means too is that you need to consent to sub, and you also really, really need to consent to dom.

I've rambled about this before I'm fairly certain but I feel like while (in people who do actually care about consent which I will admit is not a given) there is a general understanding that anything violent done to someone should be thoroughly consented by said someone, the acknowledge that it should be thoroughly consented by the person who hurts is a bit slipped under the rugs sometimes.

This is something that I wrote a lot about in The Smell of the Rain, but I fundamentally think that making someone do something to you without them being fully aware of and okay with the impact it will have on you, including "negative" (quotation mark for "pain in painplay isn't negative per see but it's still pain") is abusive and a breach of consent. Letting someone do something that hurts you without telling them, when it's someone who does not want to hurt you, is a breach of consent.

This is complicated because of course, I don't want to say that anyone who has struggles upholding their boundary is a vile abuser, and that being unable to say no or stop during a sexual activity is active sexual assault. I certainly have been there many time, this shit is HARD. (And it can be hard for tops and doms too, it's to be noted.) It's something that is messy and takes time and work, but it's important. And it's not important just because you owe to yourself to be able to do that (and you do) but because you owe that do the partner who do not want to hurt you or force you, too.

I think it makes sense to think of things like that, because ina situation of abuse that is how it work, you aren't abusing someone who wants to harm you by letting them do. And because we often discuss consent in regards to base (which again, makes sense) this is what we think of. Making people who might hurt others know to not do that. (Not sure we're succeeding but-) But if you are writing about a relationship that is meant to be healthy and where characters have good intentions towards each other, then this is not the right perspective to have on consent than to think of it as "making sure that the person to whom something is done wants it" and not "making sure that both parties involved are equally aware of the meaning of this act for both, and both want to go forth with it.

Unless there is a reason why one of the two character is a likely victim and the other a likely abuser (which can happen), I don't want to frame consent between my character as "person who might be abuse and person who might be abusing need to make sure that doesn't happen" which will go on to dehumanise one of them (again, if there is not a precedent that realistically causes that, and then it will likely fall on the top/dom) but really as "two people who are all in capacity of hurting the other in various ways, trying to not do that".

Well. It is now 5am, I've been at it for 3 hours, and I'm sure there is a lot more to say but this is probably way more than enough for today lmao. I will now sleep so tomorrow can be another day full of loving tops and doms and other men loving other men. I will also not proofread this post for evident reasons, so I hope it won't happen to be a nonsensical sleep deprave mess. Bye 👋

I wish more fanfic writers were empathetic to tops and doms. I think a lack of empathy there explains a lot of the fandom discourse around the idea that it’s racist to make characters with darker skin the top or seme or whatever.

Part of why it bothers people, I think, is that in fandom spaces—for a variety of reasons—people have somehow come to a consensus that it’s fine to have submissive and degradation oriented fantasies, but not fantasies about making someone submit or doing the degrading. SOME people don’t let themselves think about the interiority of those that could actually deliver them what they want, sexually. And I don’t even just mean actual sex! I can tell when a fic author actually gets off on topping or domming. Those people are kind of rare in fandom, but their fics really stand out if you know what you’re looking for. Side note—I think there’s a lot of untapped potential in whump writers, who could probably write really wonderful nasty smut, but who are ashamed of writing something sexual and worried about backlash (so they just stick to narrative torture for now).

If you instinctively think that writing a character as a top or dom means they’re incapable of having interiority or complexity because YOU can’t write a compelling top or dom character for shit, then you might also think that any writing of people of color as tops or doms is inherently bad or offensive writing. And this is sad for everyone, but it’s especially sad for the actual tops and doms of color in the real world who have to read people saying that they don’t exist, or that characters who feel like them are offensive and racist.

Ironically, the people who claim that writing a character of color as a top or dom automatically makes that character a racist or brutish stereotype are reenforcing that stereotype. I want to see more compellingly written top and dom characters who have actual wants and conflicts. Give me more woobie, extremely emotional doms. Give me self esteem issues, or the struggles of being mistreated by subs, or feeling reduced to what they can provide sexually but not seen as a good person outside of that, please.

tldr; I wish more people knew that it’s not an insult to write a character as a top or dom, and therefore that it’s not an insult to write a character of color as a top or dom.

#writing tips #i guess?#kankuro #kiba inuzuka #shino aburame #shikamaru nara #kankiba #kankukiba #kankushika #kankushino #trans kiba inuzuka #trans kankuro

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peterpparkrr · 3 years ago

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art is to feel (ch. 5) || A Bridgerton Series

Series: art is to feel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: Anthony Bridgerton has only one goal for this upcoming social season. To find a wife. What will he do when a young woman with no desire for marriage comes waltzing into his life?

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: N/A

A/N: Thank you for the patience since there was a bit of a wait for this chapter! And please let me know what you think!

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) // (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7)

“Are you truly certain, dear brother, that you are actually ready to settle down? Because you seem to have set your sights on the one woman in all of London who cannot be prevailed upon to marry.”

The mornings after a ball had a specific routine in the Bridgerton household. The cook would prepare Violet Bridgerton her special (hangover) remedy, Colin had enough breakfast to feed ten people delivered directly to his room, and for the sanity of the adult members of the family, no one spoke at the table.

And Benedict was breaking that last rule, asking far too complicated of a question far too loudly for this early in the morning.

Thankfully it was only the two of them at the breakfast table this morning. Hyacinth and Gregory had already eaten and disappeared off somewhere else in the house with their governess. And none of the other Bridgertons had made it downstairs yet this morning.

“Miss (Y/L/N) refuses to marry, I can’t imagine her ever changing her mind, unless perhaps she truly fell in love, yet you desire a marriage without that particular feeling. Don’t you see the predicament you’ve found yourself in?” Benedict pressed. “No matter the outcome, one if not both of you will suffer.”

“You underestimate me, Benedict,” Anthony replied plainly as he attempted to turn his attention back to the copy of the London Times that he had not been reading.

“You cannot seriously expect me to allow you to seduce her,” Benedict hissed as he leaned across the corner of the table and pressed his index finger into his brother’s chest as he lowered his voice, “Anthony if I get wind of you doing anything untoward I swear…”

“Are you quite finished, Benedict? I’m not going to seduce her,” Anthony scoffed as he stood from the table. Removing himself from the room so that this conversation would be over. Anthony didn’t know what exactly he was going to have to do to get (Y/N) to agree to marry him.

And seduction wouldn’t be his first choice, of course, but if it had to come to it, he might. He just needed to find some way to convince her that they were each other's match. They didn’t have to be in love or share anything more than a mutual attraction (which he at least knew was already there on his side, he’d have to be a blind fool not to find her attractive) in order to produce his heirs and a companionable friendship so that the two could live together comfortably until Anthony’s inevitable passing in a few years.

And if he had to tell a few half-truths or white lies to get (Y/N) to see how promising their future together could be, then so be it.

Anthony Bridgerton had never claimed to be a saint.

The ever desirable Lady (Y/L/N) does not, it seems, see her own desirable match among her suitors. The wealthy heiress seems perfectly happy to live the rest of her days as a spinster. Though I suppose when you are as rich as Miss (Y/L/N), life is never very hard.

Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers, June 2 1814

Lady Danbury was traveling to Clair Hall to visit her grandchildren. It would be a brief visit, Gigi hated her late daughter’s husband. So she would merely stay to check in on George and Gareth before returning to London.

It was a short visit, but with your two pseudo-cousins just returning home from school, it was the perfect time for a quick visit.

You had elected to stay home. You had a painting you were in the middle of working on, and did not wish to be disturbed.

Besides, St. Clair always made you a bit uncomfortable, as older men generally did, the vague references to a union between your close families of the matrimonial sort was frequently hinted at during your visits, which, given George and Gareth being your juniors you had no interest in.

You were hard at work in your studio when a footman knocked on the door.

“Lord Bridgerton has called, should I have him wait for you downstairs?” The footman asked as he poked his head into the room.

“Could you send him up here please, with Miss Martha?” You asked him after considering your options, you could say you’re indisposed, but there was no reason the two of you couldn’t chat while you work, at least as long as Martha acts as your chaperone.

“Of course, milady,” He replies before closing the door.

“Afternoon, Lord Bridgerton,” You greet Anthony as Martha led him into the room.

“So this is your studio,” Anthony remarks as he looks around curiously.

Your studio was really just a repurposed bedroom. The furniture had been removed. It was empty other than a bookshelf that held your supplies and your treasured collection of books on the old masters. Other than that there were a few easels in the middle of the room that held your current projects, and piles upon piles of canvases that were piled on top of each other against the walls. You’d like to say that they were all your finished projects, but you were a rather fickle artist and half of those paintings were unfinished.

“Yes,” You reply with a small smile as you glance up from your canvas to see him making his way around the room, taking in the various projects you have littering the edges of the room.

You turned back to your works as he moved to inspect some of your finished paintings.

You were so focused that you didn’t even realize that Anthony was watching you paint until you felt his breath on the back of your neck.

“Do you mean to intimidate me, Lord Bridgerton?” You tease, though you can’t quite bring yourself to turn your head and look at him. “You’re hardly the harshest critic who has seen me work.”

“Do I make you nervous, Miss (Y/L/N)?” Anthony asks slowly, as he leans slightly closer to you. As close to you as he can possibly get with you still in the room.

“Of course not,” You reply quickly, “So, tell me, how does your search for a wife go?” You ask, desperate to change the topic of conversation.

“I fear I shouldn’t voice my opinions on this year's debutantes, given that they are your contemporaries.”

“Do you intend to condemn the entire population of young women with your opinions, Lord Bridgerton? You do have several sisters who fall into that group.”

“Of course, and I would love to see them happily married as soon as possible, but there seem to be just as much of a dearth ineligible young women as there are ineligible young men.”

“I’m well aware,” You reply with a short laugh. The men who’d called upon you and Lady Danbury this summer were not impressive. The only men you could even stand to be around were the Bridgerton brothers.

“And is that why you won’t get married? The lack of options?” He asks.

“It’s more complicated than that.” You reply. A little confused by his sudden interest in your views on marriage. “I do not wish to marry, I will not allow some man to take away my already limited agency, the small freedoms I still maintain.”

Anthony just stared back at you, silently challenging your opinion.

“Besides, why should I marry when I have no reason to?”  You add.

“What about love?”

“Love?” You nearly laughed in his face, “Love? Women do not marry for love, they marry for money, security, stability.”   You stare at Anthony for a moment, “I already have all those things, why should I need a husband?”

“Don’t you get lonely?” He asks after a moment.

“Why, that is what close friends and companions are for,” You reply as you look over at him curiously. You can feel him studying you, as if he’s trying to understand the deepest parts of you, if only to film them inside out and give them back to you completely disassembled. “I want to live my life the way I always have, to travel, paint, no husband would ever allow me such freedom.”

“And if your future husband supported your desire for those freedoms, what would you say then?”

You’re dubious, but shrug. “I’m not sure such a man exists, truth be told, but if he did, I suppose I would have to love him so much that I couldn’t bear to live my life without him.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “My mother once told Daphne that the person she marries should be her dearest friend,” He said, causing you to glance up at him, taken aback by what you saw as a rather sudden change in the conversation.

“Maybe I should marry Benedict then,” You replied. That was the course of logic that she saw laid out in front of her. A friend, someone who would let her paint, if nothing more was needed, then he was the obvious choice.

“No.” Anthony blurted out before he could stop himself. He had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from finishing that thought.

No, you can’t marry Benedict. If you marry anyone it should be me.

But he couldn’t say that to her. Not now. He’d only scare her off.

It wasn’t hard to pick up on the fact that Anthony Bridgerton did not like the fact that his long-time friend Simon Basset, the Duke of Hastings, had married his younger sister.

According to the letters you’d received from Simon early on in his marriage to Daphne the Anthony you were seeing today was much improved from how he had behaved during their courtship and the first few weeks of the marriage. A fact that you found deeply concerning because the treatment that Simon was currently receiving from Anthony was barely cordial.

Thankfully Simon and Daphne were seated at one end of the table with Anthony at the other end. And with all of the Bridgerton siblings seated in between the two men it seemed that the brooding and agitation between the two to simmer at a dull annoyance.

You tried your best to ease the discomfort. Always one for peacekeeping you kept the topics of conversation light, and far, far away from marriage and anything that might spark a confrontation.

In fact, you had been so caught up in the story that Anthony was telling you that you almost didn’t see the daggers that Simon himself was now shooting down the table at Anthony.

When Anthony turned to chastise Gregory for pulling his sister’s hair you happened to catch Simon staring Anthony down fiercely from the other end of the table.

You quirked an eyebrow at him when his glare shifted over to you and tilted your head slightly, trying to figure out what his problem was.

He shook his head at you with a sigh before turning back to his plate and the conversation that his wife and mother-in-law were trying to have with him.

By the end of dinner, you’d nearly forgotten about Simon’s strange anger. But as everyone was standing up to retire to the drawing-room Simon circumvented the rest of the family to track you down.

“We need to speak. Alone.” Simon tells you as he wraps his hand around your forearm, pulling you down the hallway before you can enter the drawing-room.

“What is your problem, Simon?” You ask him with a huff as he finally stops, and finally lets go of you, once you’re standing in his study.

“I need you to be honest with me, (Y/N), I-”

“What is this about?” You ask bluntly as you cross your arms over your chest. You don’t appreciate being treated like a misbehaving child by a man you’re not even related to.

“Is Bridgerton courting you?” Simon asks.

“Well, you’re going to have to be more specific, there are three- well, technically, there are four Bridgertons, though even I’ll admit that Gregory is a bit too young for me-”

“-(Y/N),” Simon practically growled, cutting off your jest as he stared at you, clearly unamused, and a little annoyed at your attempt to lighten the conversation.

“Simon!” You shout back at him, crossing your arms over your chest, “No! Anthony is not courting me, not that it’s any of your business! You are not my father!”

“I know, I know,” Simon sighed. “It’s just… last season when Daphne and I… Well, you know that things were not exactly done properly. And I just worry that perhaps Anthony holds that against me still and that he would try to…”

“I’m flattered, Simon, really, that you think that I’d be your substitute sister in Anthony’s revenge scheme, but I can assure you that nothing improper has happened between us, and will not happen. Ever. Need I remind you that I am more than capable of taking care of myself?”

“I know that you are perfectly able, but you know what London is like, the rumors and gossip here, (Y/N), even a false whisper of impropriety? It could ruin you.”

“I am aware.” You reply cooly as you stare back at Simon. You are not a child, nor an idiot, you know what can happen to young women who are not careful here, you’ve seen the consequences play out before you before. “Please, don’t worry about me. I appreciate your concern, I really do, but as I’ve tried to explain to Gigi, Anthony and I are not attached. And we will not be, we have a friendship, nothing more.”

Simon stared at you strangely then, the concern on his face was replaced with some other emotion, one you were having a harder time discerning.

“Very well,” He replies.

“Now can we please rejoin the party?” You ask, eager to change the subject and join the others. “I want to force Eloise to play a duet with me, she’s going to hate it.”

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x f!reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfic #bridgerton reader insert #benedict bridgerton #simon basset #art is to feel series #art is to feel

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