#this should not have been from the male character’s perspective

[idolomantises]

I was watching Komi San with my sibling a few months ago and I’m surprised nobody ever talks about a character who’s running gag is that she’s chubby and everyone calls her fat but she looks like this:

[butchlifeguard]

something i was thinking about on stand yesterday.. danganronpa shsl lifeguard who tries to save a dying person they find, bonus points if they dont come clean about it at first because they think they actually killed that person with their efforts

[pearlywritings]

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Here is the second part btw

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly. 

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge. 

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ��Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?” 

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan. 

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it. 

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

[obsessedwhyyes]

The Learned Observer

Fic Request: Voyeurism

Summary: On a sleepless night, Gale notices the distinct sound of hushed voices outside his tent. It couldn't be you and Astarion… could it? When he decides to take a peek - to satisfy his scholarly curiosity, of course - he gets more than he bargained for.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2623 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader, implied Astarion x Gale x Fem!Reader Content: Gale's POV (first person), voyeurism, dry humping, handjob, public sex, male masturbation, a little bit of jealousy.

A/N: Gale, in my humble opinion, would not use the word, “cock.” I cannot express how hard it was to not use the word, "cock" in a smut fic. I frigging love that word. Anyways, writing entirely in Gale’s voice was honestly the most fun mini challenge I’ve set myself so far, and I would gladly do first person BG3 companion POVs again. Thank you, dear anon, for the request!

Another sleepless night.

The orb pulses beneath my skin, each throb a reminder of my predicament.

I implore my mind to wander to the events of our journey, to the challenges that lie ahead, in pursuit of a worthwhile distraction. But the orb’s hunger grows stronger, like a raging maelstrom, each tribute to its insistent pull a mere ripple against the tide of its endless consumption. Perhaps I should consult the others about–

… Voices drift from outside my tent before I can finish my thoughts. Curious.

Hushed laughter and whispered words. Astarion's distinctive timbre and… you.

The sound is soft, subtle - a quiet exchange. Yet, here I am, catching fragments of something private, something perhaps not intended for outside ears.

I shift, the faintest spark of curiosity pulling me from my solitude. It's innocent, surely - a late-night conversation, perhaps a shared joke. And yet, as the moments pass, I can't ignore the intimacy in your laughter, the way Astarion's voice drops to that silken murmur he reserves for his attempts at enticement.

Just a glance, I tell myself. Merely to understand what could be so amusing at this hour.

Slowly, carefully, I draw back a sliver of canvas, just enough to peek through.

My breath catches as my eyes adjust to the firelight outside. There, on the other side of the campfire, resting against a fallen log, you sit beside him, close - very close - your faces inches apart.

Your legs are entwined, and there’s an intensity in the way you look at each other. I’m taken aback by the hunger in the kiss that follows - one neither timid nor restrained. Your hands begin to explore each other with what I can only call fervour - the kind of urgency I hadn't known either of you possessed, let alone with each other. 

The way you move together speaks of raw desire rather than tender affection - this is clearly a new physical relationship.

When did this start? How did I miss the signs? Though perhaps I was too caught up in my own concerns to notice the lingering glances, the way you always seemed to find reasons to be near each other…

I tell myself it’s simple curiosity that keeps me here, observing. A certain academic interest, if you will. After all, Astarion has always been something of a hedonist - a man who indulges in his desires with a recklessness I sometimes envy, though rarely approve. But to see him like this - in action, as it were - offers a unique perspective on his character.

You murmur something I cannot make out, a teasing lilt in your voice, and Astarion laughs in that rakish, honeyed tone of his, as though thrilled to have you so wholly entranced. His hands grip your waist, and with a practised grace, he pulls you into his lap, the hem of your skirt spilling around you both. As his hands settle on your hips, you grind against what I can only assume to be a prominent hardness in his trousers, judging by the satisfied smirk on his face. 

You seem eager, pliant under his touch, responding in ways I confess I hadn’t thought you capable of - no, not like this. Not with him.

My heart hammers in my chest, a tension spreading through me that’s… increasingly difficult to ignore. And yet, I remind myself, this is mere observation, nothing more. A clinical exercise in understanding the intricacies of interpersonal attractions between a vampire and a mortal; the undercurrent of danger that befalls such an arrangement.

He holds you with a blend of confidence and entitlement that borders on decadent, his mouth at your neck, lips brushing against your skin with a maddening leisure that’s somehow indulgent and teasing all at once. His fangs linger there and, for a moment, my heart stops - surely he wouldn’t… Ah, no. No, he’s not feeding. He merely kisses your neck, fangs scraping lightly against your throat - close enough to tempt and tantalise. I see the goosebumps flare on your skin.

He whispers something low and unintelligible, and you let out a soft giggle, yielding in a way that speaks of trust - trust that’s he’s earned, somehow, despite his nature.

And then your hand drifts between you both, touching him through his trousers.

Gosh. I hadn’t thought you so bold.

Astarion’s body arches into your touch, his gaze darkening as he watches you with a hunger that’s both terrifying and… strangely beautiful. I find myself entranced, my breath shallow as I observe the way your fingers trace over him, the way he leans into you. The noise he makes when your fingers flex, squeezing him gently over the fabric… Gracious. 

There’s a strange, reluctant curiosity building within me. I should look away. I should grant you both the privacy you likely assume you have. And yet, my gaze remains fixed, drawn to the details of your encounter: the way his hands tighten on your waist, the way your breaths synchronise, the way he murmurs softly into your ear…

I am aware - painfully so - of the ache low in my body that has built with each passing moment, each glance, each touch. I am no stranger to restraint - I have spent years tempering my desires, sacrificing comforts in the pursuit of knowledge, of power. Yet, here, now, I feel that restraint begin to falter; to dissolve like ink in water, dispersing until it is all but unrecognisable. It has been so long, after all. So, so long.

When your hands move to the waistband of his trousers, my breath catches. Gods above, surely you won't, not out in the open... but yes. Yes, it seems you will.

When you pull him free, well - I’ve always wondered about vampire physiology, purely academically, of course. But the sight of him prompts rather less scholarly thoughts. He’s impressively endowed - perhaps it is wishful thinking to believe that this is but another gift of his condition. It’s fascinating how vampiric transformation affects every part of the body - he’s almost luminescent in the firelight, every inch of him perfect and unmarred. I notice the veins that trace along his length, faintly visible beneath his skin. He is, even now, a study in confidence, exuding a subtle power that one can only achieve when utterly comfortable in one’s own skin.

Your hand wraps around him, sliding up and down his length at a teasing pace, drawing forth a sound I have never heard our pale companion make - a soft, broken gasp, caught somewhere between a moan and a sigh. It sounds almost reluctant, as though he hadn’t meant for such a sound to slip past his lips. He twitches under your ministrations, and his grip on your hips tightens enough that there will surely be bruises tomorrow.

My fingers rest at my thigh, trembling ever so slightly. A small part of me - a remnant of reason, perhaps - tells me to pull back, to look away, to let this moment pass without surrendering to the need that has taken root within me. But my body, the traitorous thing it is, does not heed such commands. Instead, I find my hand drifting lower.

My fingers trace over the fabric of my trousers, over the aching hardness beneath. A gentle palming, barely enough to ease the tension that coils tighter with each passing moment as I watch the scene unfold.

Your hands elicit quiet murmurs from Astarion that grow deeper and more insistent with each passing moment. For a moment, the two of you share a look - one of conspiratorial mischief, perhaps - and then a soft, shared giggle, the sound mingling with the crackling of the fire. 

You're so utterly engrossed in him; so utterly unselfconscious.

You shift, a question in your eyes, and as he nods, giving his assent, you rise just enough to shift, positioning yourself over him. Your skirts drape around you both, providing a veneer of modesty, though there's no mistaking what follows when you sink yourself down on to him. The way your lips part in a gasp as he enters you, the way his head falls back with a victorious grin - it makes the tightness, the great ache between my legs, almost unbearable.

I find my hand slipping beneath my waistband.

Just a little relief, I tell myself. Just enough to ease this maddening tension.

There is a certain poetry to it, I suppose - this surrender to the pleasures of the flesh. I allow myself to imagine, as my hand finds the throbbing heat of my arousal, what it might feel to be in your place, to have someone look at me with that same confidence, to experience touch imbued with the certainty of one who knows precisely how to elicit pleasure - a knowledge gleaned from centuries, no doubt, of indulgence and conquest.

It’s enough to leave me aching for more than mere observation.

The fervour with which you move against him… it’s hypnotic, each roll of your hips drawing forth increasingly wanton sounds from you both. Astarion's carefully crafted demeanour gives way to something more roguish, a playful daring that glints in his eyes as you rise and fall and rise and fall on his length.

I find my hand instinctively matching your rhythm, every shift and motion, as though I, too, am bound to the undulating tempo that you and Astarion have created.

Gods… what must it be like to be him? To have someone so openly, eagerly drawn to you, meeting every touch with matching fervour? To hold someone close and feel their raw desire, the thrill of each laugh, each gasp, offered without hesitation? I wonder what it must be like to inspire such a response, to be desired so freely, without need for pretence or restraint?

With Mystra, I was ever the pursuer, striving tirelessly to earn even the barest hint of her approval, each moment together feeling like an examination I desperately hoped to pass. But Astarion… well. He needn't chase or convince. Despite his vampiric nature - or perhaps, in part, because of it - he is simply desired, freely given all that I once had to beg for. The inequity of it all would be rather poetic, if it weren't so personally vexing.

“A-ah!”

Your gasp cuts through my ruminations, pulling me back into the scene.

Astarion’s hand has slipped between you, guiding you to that final crescendo with a practised touch. The sight of it is utterly spellbinding: his fingers moving with a precision that speaks to centuries of experience, knowing just where to press, where to linger. The control he exercises over you is enviable, each movement of his hand coaxing you closer to that peak, his attention wholly focused on your reaction, even as your hips rock back and forth on his length with an increasingly frantic, unrestrained urgency.

The way your eyes roll back... Gosh.

The expression on your face, one of pure, unfiltered abandon, is a sight to behold.

Your body trembles as you reach your peak, and a sound - a cry, too loud in the stillness of the night - escapes your lips. Astarion’s palm clamps over your mouth, a futile attempt to muffle you in the throes of your climax. Though he hushes you, his expression suggests that he is not in the least bit concerned. In fact, he seems rather pleased - more than pleased, really. 

There’s a thrill in such a public display for him too, no doubt.

I swallow, the sound almost too loud, my heart pounding against my ribs as though it seeks to betray me. Astarion's head tilts slightly, his gaze flickering to the shadows, and for one heart-stopping moment, I think he has sensed me, that his attention has shifted from you to this invisible interloper, the scholar caught red-handed in his quiet act of voyeurism.

Could he... sense me here, lingering on the fringe of his private moment? Could he smell the stir of my own arousal, feel the faint tremor of my breath as I fight for composure? For several heartbeats, my hand freezes. I dare not even breathe.

But then his attentions return to you, and I breathe a sigh of relief. 

He brings his hands to your hips, holding them firmly in place as he drives himself upwards into you, deeper, with mounting desperation. It seems he seeks to chase his own release, content with the pleasure he has wrought you.

You respond eagerly, pressing closer, your own sounds growing louder, heedless of who might hear, and I can see that thrill in his face - the satisfaction of knowing he’s eliciting every reaction from you, drawing out each gasp, each shudder.

My hand glides hastily across my arousal, my own breathing growing ragged as I watch his control begin to slip. Even from here, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his head tips back in pure abandon.

In the final throes, he presses himself against you, buried firmly to the hilt. It’s almost animalistic, all thoughts, all calculated movements, making way for one singular goal: to empty himself into you, filling you with all he has to offer with breaths rugged and low. All composure is stripped, replaced with instinct and pure need.

I find my own movements quickening to match his pace, as though some invisible thread binds us all to this moment. My hand tightens as I lose myself in the same tempo, every sound from you both spurring me closer. The sight of his final shudder, the look of utter satisfaction crossing his face as he reaches that height, is enough to tip me over the edge.

For a heartbeat, the night seems to hold us all in perfect suspension - your quiet gasps, his satisfied murmurs, my own silent echo of shared pleasure - all woven together in this clandestine tableau.

Only then, as the euphoria begins to fade, does a most uncomfortable awareness creep in.

Gods above, what have I... A scholar of worldly acclaim, reduced to voyeur, caught up in base desires like some common... No. Best not to dwell on such things. Though I suspect sleep will prove rather elusive tonight, haunted by questions of propriety and... other matters.

With a groan, I roll onto my back, the orb’s steady throb now a minor annoyance compared to the tangled thoughts that flood my mind. Perhaps I can chalk this entire… incident up to fatigue, a wandering mind, even a fevered dream. Yes, that must be it. The product of a restless night and, possibly, a touch of indigestion. After all, who could believe that I, Gale of Waterdeep, would be brought so low as to... well, that.

As morning light spills across camp, I attempt a façade of normalcy, willing my cheeks to cool and my mind to settle. Just as I convince myself the night’s events were nothing more than a peculiar dream, Astarion sidles up, his expression one of leisurely amusement.

"Restless night, Gale?” he murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear. His gaze is as sharp as his tone, a knowing glint in his eyes that makes my stomach twist in the most uncomfortable way. "I thought I heard a... stirring from your tent."

The corner of his mouth quirks up in that infuriatingly smug way of his, and I nearly choke on my response. 

He knew. 

Astarion knew. 

I force a cough, pretending to inspect the morning sky.

"A dream," I reply a bit too quickly. "Perhaps the cheese at dinner was... overly ripe."

But Astarion merely chuckles, a wicked sound, before strolling away with a satisfied air. And as I watch him saunter off, I’m left to question just how much of the night was a dream - and how much, mortifyingly, was very, very real.

Masterlist can be found here!

No Pressure Tags: @roguishcat @davenswitcher @silverfangmarks @sparrowbard @chonkercatto @stokzr @trafalgarussy @asterordinary

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. FANTASIZE

I know what you fantasize about

TAKUMA INO x SUCCUBUS! READER.

sum: ino, desperate to feel the touch of a woman, seeks out alternative options. which includes, summoning a demon into his house.

cw: ooc characters, modern au (no cursed techniques), lowkey loser ino (i love him), virgin!ino, switch (both of you), handjob, blowjob, cowgirl, praise, pussy-drunk ino, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (on both sides), demons, demon rituals, angst if you squint, porn no plot, chubby reader, gojo is a bit of a dick, etc.

it was so funny looking up rituals for summoning a succubus, i know the person watching my phone activity is concerned. also, does this count for kinktober? idk i’m new around here. but i got this idea while working so…:) hope you enjoy. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

Takuma Ino was having a bit of dilemma. It wasn’t anything serious like a sickness or losing his home, rather— it was actually quite silly.

He has never, in his twenty-one years of living, made love to a woman. Or anyone for that matter.

Now he’s been on dates before. Has flirted with woman, hell; even kissed a few. But, it never went farther then that. He wasn’t sure why, it ate him up inside that he didn’t have such experience like his seniors Gojo and Geto, even Nanami. And as much as he’d like to find the root of the problem, Ino refused to ask any of them for some perspective.

The thought alone made him want to curl into a ball and die.

But him being inexperienced wasn’t a secret, given Satoru teased him on it constantly. Much to the younger man’s dismay.

Things really took a turn one night, however, when Gojo said something a little off-putting.

At this point, you should just summon a succubus.

The statement was quickly overshadowed by Geto stating the white-haired male was being rude, along with Nanami agreeing. But in that moment, Takuma Ino wasn’t focused on Gojo’s lack of manners, rather; his mind swarmed with that idea.

Was it possible? Were such creatures real? Could he really summon one?

Ino was desperate. He felt something was lacking inside of him having no experience and all. So, just the thought of a solution like this.. well, it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?

Which brings him to tonight, the man seated crisscrossed on his bedroom floor; staring down at the pentagram and candles in the middle of the room. He had spent hours before searching the web for summons, deciding on a relatively easy one. Drawing the pentagram took much more time then he wanted it to, along with placing the candles down. It was currently dark out, the moon shining into his already lit bedroom.

Ino pursed his lips, a bout of anxiety developing in the pit of his stomach. What if, he messed it up somehow? The thought of dealing with something worse then a succubus scared him much more than never having sex. However, another thought plagued him..

What if it didn’t work? Was it really worth wasting time on some stupid comment Gojo made?

It took a moment for Ino to decide his next choice of action, leaning on his crossed legs as an exasperated sigh escaped him. Moments of silence passed before he rose up, a small fuck it, escaping him. Leaning against his bed, the man glanced at his phone, reading through the remaining steps quickly.

“Okay, blood.. then chant.” Ino gulped softly. Settling his phone back beside him, he reached for the pocket knife off to the side. Flipping it open, he placed the blade against his palm, squeezing the handle of the small weapon. His breathing got heavy for a moment, bottom lip caught between his teeth— glaring down at his hand. Quickly, Takuma slid the blade across his skin, a sharp hissing escaping him once the wound started to sting. He watched as scarlet red blood slowly bubbled from the cut, breath hitching as the sight.

Ino breathed, lifting his hand over the pentagram and rose petals in the middle; watching droplets of blood slowly fall from his hand, into the pile. His lips moved, softly chanting the spell he had found on the internet, dark eyes glaring at the ritual.

The chant escaped his mouth five more times before he stopped, resting their silently for a moment. Waiting for.. anything, really. A signal, a sign the ritual had worked. That his desperation wasn’t all for not..

That he hadn’t cut his palm for some odd fantasy.

Unfortunately, nothing happened. Nothing, except for the sting of his hand and the one of his dignity. He was such an idiot— taking Gojo’s word at face value instead of as a joke.

Takuma Ino, felt pathetic.

Silently, he pulled his hand back, ignoring the sting of it as he began to collected the dirtied petals. He moved to blow out the candles next, collecting them as well to throw away. Once that was completely he exited his bedroom to his bathroom, coming back with a wet rag shortly after to rub away the pentagram.

Still silent, still completely mad at himself.

That was about five hours ago, Takuma deciding to push the event to the back of his mind and sleep. He couldn’t dwell over his stupidity for too long, he had work in the morning.

Curled up under his blankets, the man slept soundly, face pressed into his pillow. The room was quiet, atmosphere soft, his legs, heavy… heavy. Why were his legs so heavy? The half-asleep man turned, pulling his blankets a bit, thinking it was simply that.

But, no. Ino quickly realized it wasn’t that. Sleep was slowly drifting away, annoyance traveling into his body. Did he accidentally place something on his bed? Did something fall? Such question entered his mind, blinking away sleep as he turned— shutting his bedside lamp on.

Takuma Ino blinked slowly, eyes peering down at.. something, someone. A woman. She was, pretty. Cloaked in warm mocha skin, a form figure will full hips and curves; pudge pushed against the blankets underneath her. Her hair was neat, styled in long braids that rested in curly ends just below her ass.

And from what Takuma could see, she was completely bare.

“Wh—what..” The man stuttered under his breath, slowly pulling his legs from under her body, backing to the headboard of his bed. Biting the inside of his cheek, he reached over, planting a hand onto her shoulder. “Hey.. uh— miss?” He spoke, watching her stir just a bit. To his horror she turned from laying on her stomach, Ino quickly tossing his blanket in her direction. “Miss— its time to wake up!” Ino spoke again, voice holding much more urgency then it did before.

You slowly stirred from your sleep, blinking and yawning softly. You tilted your head to spot Ino already staring at you, a look of shock and nervousness painting his features. You only smiled, turning once again to rise up on your hands. “Hi..”

Ino gulped the moment your voice hit his ears, range a sickeningly sweet tone, soft; traveling into his mind so easily. He bit his cheek, clenching his pants in his hands. “How did you..get in here? Are you lost?”

You blinked at him for a moment, coming to sit comfortably on the bed, nearly smiling at the way he refused to look at you. Or rather, your body. “I’m not lost.. you summoned me here, right?”

As the words left your mouth, his breath hitched; eyes widening in shock. The ritual, actually worked? He had really summoned one, a succubus? There was no way, this had to be a prank.

“You look human.”

“I look how you want me to look..” You spoke softly, leaning back, sliding your hands down your body. “Or rather, your type.” You grinned, watching a warm red spread across his cheeks. You leaned, crawling up to him until you were far too close for comfort; watching as he sunk into the headboard to gain some space. “But, would you like me to change? Is there something else you wish to see?”

Ino breathed heavily, eyes finally falling from your face and to your body; trained on your soft plump breasts, your thighs, your hips.. everything was just so, perfect. Change? Such a thought would never pass his mind.

His trance was interrupted the moment a pretty giggle escaped you, his entire body stilling the moment your hand rested upon his lower stomach. You pushed up until your mouth was against his ear, speaking lowly;

“Looks like your body answer the question for you..” He hissed softly as your hand breached his black tshirt, gliding your fingers along his vline. You were so close, yet so far from he really wanted you to touch him; his head leaning back as you continued to rub gentle circles into his skin.

“Please..”

“Hm?” You feigned innocence, pulling back to glance at his face. His eyebrows were pinched a little close, eyes closed as he gently bit his lips. The sight was very pretty, you had to admit. “You want me to touch you more?”

“Yes—“ Ino spoke far too quickly, raising his head to look at you. His cheeks were flushed with red, embarrassed out of his mind— but he didn’t care. Not one bit. “Please.. please touch me more.”

Your glossed lips curled into a small smile, leaning over so you two were only a breath’s away. “You’re so cute, Ino.” You spoke softly, closing the gap to capture his lips. Slowly, you two enjoyed the other’s mouth, pressing your body against his own. You felt his hand twitched with uncertainty, slowly lifting to gently grasp your waist. You smiled against his lips, gently biting them in response. The moment a soft gasp escaped him, your tongue intruded his mouth, while your hand.. reached into his pants.

His fingers gripped your bare skin as your own traced his shaft, feeling him slowly harden under your touch. You wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly pulling him out of his pants and boxers. The man groaned softly as your thumb traced his tip, feeling precum slowly drip from the slit. You pulled back, cooing at the sight of his strained face. How cute..

You leaned over, lips pressed against his neck as you began to drag your hand up and down his shaft, slowly, watching him twitch with each glide across his sensitive tip. You sucked a kiss into his skin, switching around to kiss against his throat; relishing at the gulp you felt under your lips. Your hand quickened around his cock; focusing around his tip, grinning at the way his hips rose up into your hand.

“So cute..” You murmured to yourself, watching him carefully. He felt so sensitive from your touch, gasping out; soft groans escaping him every so often. The hand on your hip was bruising by now, fingertips digging into your skin, holding on for leverage. He’s never felt anything like this; your hand completely differently from his own. You played like him as if you knew his own body more than he did, grazing across secret places he’s never known about.

“O—oh, fuck..”

“You’re close, handsome?” You questioned softly, eyelids lowered as you hand got even faster. The man was bucking up into your hand at this point, fucking it, chasing his release. One he reached easily, lips parted as a husky, prolonged moan escaped his throat. You hummed softly as his warm release coated your fingers, glancing down as your hand slowly came to a stop. You tilted your head with a little simper, traveling down the bed. “You made a mess of yourself, Ino.”

Your voice brought him down from his high, blinking tiredly over at you. To his horror, you were leaning down towards his cock; the man gasping the moment your lips brushed his tip. “F—fuck..” He whined softly, gripping the blanket under him, a stuttered groan escaping him as your tongue traveled up his shaft, collecting his cum. “‘M too sensitive, please—“

Ino’s own pornographic groan interrupted his words the moment you took him into his mouth, eyes rolling back at your warm cavern. He could only lay there, overstimulated whines escaping him as you took him deeper into your mouth, tongue gliding across his cock; allowing his tip to hit the back of your throat.

You bobbed up and down his length, eyes closed and focused on your breath. Your hands resting on his thighs, feeling the muscles shake and clench with each movement of your head. It didn’t take long for the poor man to come again, his voice much louder than before; painting your mouth and throat white. Your moaned around his cock, slowly sucking him dry, feeling his hand press against your shoulder— gasping from the sensitivity. You pulled back slowly, swallowing the rest of his release, eyes peering over at him.

You warmed as his hand traveled to your face, feeling his thumb gently wipe away your mouth. You leaned into his palm, “Did that feel good, Ino?” You questioned sweetly, watching the man nod rather quickly; still breathless. You gently kissed his palm — right above his wound —, slowly traveling up his body, settling on his torso. His hands found your ass, gently caressing the warm skin— clenching when you pressed against his chest lightly.

“You want more, don’t you?” You spoke softly, leaning closely. Your noses brushed, moving in as if to kiss him, only to back away the moment you saw his eyes fluttered. His hand clenched your ass, a small chuckle exiting you as a result. “Use your words..”

Ino breathed sure his cheeks and ears were terribly red. He never imagined his first time would go like this, but, he wasn’t complaining. He glanced into your eyes, “Please.. I—I want to feel you.” He spoke, watching as you moaned softly at his words. He felt accomplished the moment you rose your body, scooting down a bit to hover above his crotch.

Your hand collected his cock, breathing slowly as you lined it up with your entrance. Pressing your knees into the bed, you slowly lowered yourself on his length; feeling his hands grasp your thighs the moment they began to shake. You moaned as he stretched you, velvety walls clenching the deeper he went. Soon, you settled into his lap, pressing your hands against his stomach to still yourself.

“Ar—are you okay?” You glanced up to spot the tinge of worry in his eyes, your cheeks warming at this. You leaned over, kissing his chin.

“Of course.”

Digging your knees into his soft blankets, you rose yourself up until only his tip remained inside— dropping down in one swift motion. The action caused the both of you to moan, his hands clenching your skin; resting his head on his pillows. You hands pressed against his stomach, fucking yourself on his cock; pretty moans escaping your swollen lips.

Ino was holding you so tightly at this point, allowing you to do anything you wanted; trapped under the pleasure you were giving him. Your plush walls clenching him, your hot skin pressed against his own— it was all so much, but he loved every piece. Hazy eyes slowly focused on you, watching work yourself up and down his length, how erotic your expression was.

“Look.. fuck— You’re so pretty.” Ino gasped out, hands traveling to your waist, slowly meeting your thrusts. His hips circled, watching you clench his shirt, pretty babbles of his name escaping you. He wanted to see more of it, needed to. You were far too much, yet he craved it.

A surprised whine escaped you the moment he began to fuck up into you, his feet flat on his bed, holding you tightly on his cock so you could do nothing but take it. The sound of skin on skin contact entered the room, your jumbled noises of pleasure surrounding the space too. Your bodies moved against each other, desperate for release— for the other’s as well.

Repeated fucks escaped you, leaning over to wrap your arms around his neck as he rose his hips more; reaching even deeper inside your messy cunt. You held onto him tightly, eyes pinched close as your nails dug into his covered skin. “F—fuck, so close, so close— Ino!”

His breathing was ragged, face stuffed into your neck as he felt his hips began to stutter. “Me.. me too, fuck— can i come inside? Wanna.. fill you up, oh fuck!” Ino’s voice came out in harsh whimpers, thrusts turning desperate, slamming into you as his mind grew cloudy. In the midst he heard your soft pleas for his cum, your pretty whines enough for him— pushing him over the edge. Spilling into your, fucking his seed into you; stuffing you full.

You gasped, eyes rolling back as you came as well; wet walls clenching, milking him of all he’s worth. The two of you panted heavily, his hips slowly falling to the bed as his arms wrapped around your middle. Your fingers curled into his hair, eyes closed as you simply laid on him.

“… Are you leaving now?” His tone was soft, voice scratchy from its previous abuse. You smiled at his words, shaking your head. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.”

To your surprise his arms wrapped tighter around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

“Good.”

[stromblessed]

Mizu was wrong to let Akemi be taken because they both deserve better

First, a confession. When I saw this for the first time:

I was relieved. I knew that was what Mizu was going to say and I felt like it's what I would have said in that situation too.

When Akemi does this:

I cringed, because if we know anything about Mizu, it's that she (1) isn't quick to make friends (though to be fair, even though Akemi did try to kill Mizu, so did Taigen - multiple times! - and look how that turned out lol), and (2) doesn't take orders.

So when Akemi and Ringo and later Taigen get angry at Mizu, are they being unfair?

Sure, Mizu isn't obligated to treat Akemi - or Taigen or Ringo or anybody else - nicely, or to serve them, or to be honorable, or be a hero to them, or whatever. No human being is obligated to any other human being. We all have the choice to do whatever we want to anybody else. But the point of flawed characters in storytelling is the tension between those characters and their potential. Their growth into someone who can choose the higher, harder path, who chooses to be obligated to others, who chooses kindness and compassion.

Because Mizu's problem isn't revenge. Nobody is preaching at Mizu that revenge isn't the answer. Her circumstances do suck, her life has been incredibly unfair, she is marginalized, and as far as we and Mizu know for most of the season, she is a child born of violence and no one is saying that that violence doesn't deserve to be repaid in kind.

Mizu's problem is isolation. And the fact that she thinks she has no responsibility toward her fellow human beings, because her hatred of her own circumstances and her having no life outside of her quest devours everything else. This is a problem because it turns Mizu into the worst version of herself. A version that hurts the people who like Mizu, the people who care about her.

Practically, Mizu has just taken on an entire army almost by herself. She's hurt. She's exhausted. If she were to defend Akemi now, it'd be yet ANOTHER fight, this time against horsed and armored samurai.

But that's not the reason Mizu gives Ringo. Mizu's ability or willingness to fight isn't even on her mind. All she says is, "She's better off."

"She's better off" is Mizu deciding what's best for Akemi. Akemi's entire story is about her being a caged bird longing to fly free.

One after the other, every man and woman in Akemi's life makes her decisions for her. She has to grovel and smile prettily and lie through her teeth just for the chance to be heard. Mizu judges Akemi for being a rich princess who isn't being more grateful for what she has, all without understanding Akemi's situation, and without any curiosity for why Akemi feels the way she does. From Akemi's perspective, Mizu is just one more person (one more man!) in a long lineup who ignores Akemi's wishes and (casually!) makes a decision for her that impacts Akemi's life greatly.

In the end, even Seki concludes that Akemi should get to decide what's best for Akemi. What others think that Akemi SHOULD want does not matter compared to what Akemi wants for her own life. As Madame Kaji said - Madame Kaji, who despite calling out the weirdness of Akemi's situation as well as the childishness of her decision to run away - is the only person Akemi meets who doesn't try to make decisions for Akemi, but instead only challenges Akemi to work for and be worthy of what she wants - she needs to decide what she wants for her own fucking self, and then take it.

Mizu being born female does not make her automatically wiser for letting Akemi be taken, and it does not preclude her from having a hand in giving Akemi back to her jailers. A patriarchy that Mizu knows full well would stop Mizu from achieving her own goals if she didn't present as male.

Mizu is still understandable here. She just had to kill Kinuyo, a disabled girl sold by her father into prostitution, a girl in a situation so far beyond Akemi's worst imaginings that I can practically feel Mizu's world being rocked just by comparing them in her mind the way she most likely is. That still doesn't make it right for Mizu to let Akemi be carried off to be sold into marriage by her father against her wishes. Those "good options" Mizu thinks Akemi has don't exist, no more than they ever existed for Mizu. Akemi and Mizu both have to get creative, make the best of their circumstances, take dangerous risks, and break rules in order to have any control over their own lives.

Even on my first watch, when at first I thought that Mizu had made the right decision and that Akemi was being unreasonable, Akemi screaming Mizu's name while being dragged, LITERALLY DRAGGED, back to her father was haunting as hell.

Mizu had the power to help Akemi, and simply chose not to.

Mizu lets Akemi be taken, Akemi who has just begun to trust Mizu. Mizu calls Ringo weak and quickly - seemingly easily - turns her back on him. Mizu values her quest over Taigen's life, after Taigen has endured days of torture to protect her, and she not only risks his life in the process, but doesn't tell him that Akemi is engaged to someone else, or that she came looking for Taigen, or that she is in danger.

Mizu's sword breaks because it is too brittle. Too pure. Too singleminded. Mizu only melts down the meteorite metal when she mixes the metal with objects from parts of her life that have nothing to do with her quest. Objects from the people she cares about, and who care about her.

All I'm saying is - Mizu doesn't have to be a hero. But she is the better version of herself when she reaches out to help and connect with others. When she's just a decent, kinder human being. And I think that's what this story is telling us that we should want for Mizu.

[jaidenk-nox]

Elizabeth midford

Shitty 2AM rant on the Misogyny that Lizzy has faced since the very start but it's the perspective of someone who has witnessed the horrors of Misogyny in Spanish speaking fandom

I should mention that English is not my first language and I'm not very good with it either, so most of this was done with Google Translate and I tried to correct what I could, I hope it's at least readable

I've never seen enough people point out the fact that Elizabeth midford character also defies the "Girlboss" archetype, she is definitely physically strong and can protect herself, but she is A 15 YEAR OLD GIRL, who manages her emotions like someone her age would and also exhibits many neurodivergent traits. I have always been bothered by the way physical strength is misunderstood as a "girlboss" trait, the simplest example I can think of is Ran Mao, she possesses brutal and superhuman strength. but it doesn't make her a girlboss, in case anyone forgets Ran is a girl who barely reaches 18 years old and is exploited by an opium trader who also seems to be involved in human trafficking (implied in the manga). Is she really a girlboss? girlboss when her physical strength is more of a requirement to SURVIVE while working as an assassin and sometimes seductress (which u can tell she doesn't enjoy much)? Obviously Ranmao's social reality is very different as she is a woman of color from the underworld, unlike Elizabeth, who is a white woman from the nobility. However, her physical strength has always been a double-edged sword for herself. Lizzy longs to get married, like any other girl her age, she longs to be protected but says goodbye to it the moment Ociel returns.

I may seem a bit exaggerated, but the way your sociocultural background affects the way you perceive and treat a character has me slightly traumatized, I wish I could give proof of the horrible and degrading treatment that Lizzy has received from the Spanish-speaking fandom.

I am a trans boy of color who grew up watching my female relatives being encouraged to rip their hearts out of their chest from the moment they turned 8yo for the simple goal of caring for and protecting my cis male relatives. household chores, cooking for them, washing their clothes, taking accountability for their actions. Their freedom and childhood as little girls were taken away from them. but none of that was ever valued, I never saw anyone recognize it as sacrifice.

Elizabeth is not a woman of color, nor does she have those demands as a woman of nobility, but she SACRIFICED stuff to try to protect Ciel on her own way, I have seen many people underestimate her backstory in book of Atlantic because "High heeled shoes aren't reason to cry." Everything Lizzy has done for Ciel is devalued, all her suffering has been minimized. losing so many family members in such a short time, losing the boy you were raised to marry your entire life. People truly forget that lizzy is still just a child, that she has the right to mourn everything she lost that day. She had to mourn publicly as a noble girl,she probably heard that she would never be able to get married or would never achieve happiness, I've never seen any adult to stop and think about how heartbreaking and soul shattering that must have been as a 11yo

I have seen how EVERY thing Lizzy does is judged. how her behavior, personality and temperament are criticized. but other characters like Soma just get a pass while doing the same stuff, but this does not just stop at gender, but also at age. people HATE girls and afabs who act like children when they are literally CHILDREN.

How is it possible that Lizzy has faced such harsh judgment from the fandom when there are other characters like Maam red, Lau, Grell, Undertaker who are universally ADORED or atleast respected in the fandom.

I love u Elizabeth midford but ur character makes me violently ill omfg

[writergeekrhw]

25 THINGS I’VE LEARNED IN 25 YEARS IN TV WRITING

Well, it’s actually been 30 years now, but here’s a spew I did 5 years ago on the bird app to commemorate my 25 years as a TV writer. 

I’ve edited it a bit for clarity. Hopefully some of you will find it useful.

1. In TV writing (and writing in general) there is only one unbreakable rule: Thou shalt not be boring.

2. Write characters people want to hang out with for an hour or so once a week for years to come. Even if they're bad people, make them interesting, engaging bad people.

3. If your lead is a bad person, make them funny and/or sexy. Direct most of their bad behavior toward other bad people or themselves. Make them well motivated. Maintain rooting interest.

4. What makes a character special should be intertwined with what makes them struggle. Perfect people are boring.

5. Characters should complement/conflict with each other. No two characters should serve the same purpose/have the same backstory/have the same voice.

6. Cast the best actor, adjust the character to suit.

7. Give your leads the best lines/moments. No one is tuning in to watch the funny guest star. Like Garry Marshall said back on HAPPY DAYS, “I’m paying Henry Winkler $25,000 an episode. Give the Fonz the jokes.”

8. Your characters, good & bad, should reflect the reality of our wonderful, diverse world. White male shouldn’t be the default.

9. Avoid stereotypes. Stereotypes are boring.

10. If all your POV characters know some secret, the audience should know it too.

11. If your show hinges on a big mystery, know more or less what the truth is from the beginning. You can change it later if you need to, but write to a specific.

12. If your story doesn’t test your characters mentally, physically, psychologically, emotionally, or spiritually, you don’t have a story.

13. You can start by figuring out the Beginning, the Middle, or the End, but you don’t have an episode until you have all three.

14. Big suspenseful act outs (the last moments before the commercials) aren’t just a gimmick. They’re a good way to structure an hour of entertainment to make sure the audience is invested and your pacing is solid.

15. Every scene should be a consequence of the previous scene or a refutation of it.

16. A scene also needs a Beginning, Middle, and End. The end should propel the characters and/or audience into the next scene.

17. Every scene is a negotiation/confrontation between two or more characters who want different things or have different ideas on how to solve the same problem.

18. A good action scene is still a character scene. With punching. (This applies to sex scenes too, but you know, with sex.)

19. A crap page is better than a blank one.

20. It’s easier to cut than to add.

21. Good things rarely happen in the Writers Room after dinner. Go home, get some rest, write pages at home if you have to, start fresh in the morning.  Writers who have a life outside the writing room are better writers. Beware the showrunner who doesn't want to go home to their family. That said…

22. Script by day one of Pre-Production. No matter what.

23. You’re a writer first. Almost nothing happening on set or in post is more important than the writing. Delegate when possible.

24. Make an extra effort to surround yourself with writers who are different from you (background, race, gender, orientation, etc). Listen to their perspectives, especially on experiences alien to you.

25. And in the end the love you take is equal to the love you make. In TV writing and life in general. 

PART TWO HERE:

https://at.tumblr.com/writergeekrhw/25-things-in-25-years-part-2-25-things-ive/okjzwofyiq6i

[takemebacktowheniwassane]

i've been seeing a lot of falsettos posts recently deconstructing the fandoms beliefs and firstly

holy fuck thank you, i try to steer clear of fandom (and fandom-izing thereof) drama but this is getting a lot more visible recently so here's some little tidbits for you

whizzer brown is not an unflawed character!

okay so i haven't seen enough dissecting this but!!! in the chess game!

the whole point of marvin using that game to determine the ending of their relationship is because he suspects whizzer is constantly deceiving him and wants to prove it.

whizzer LITERALLY proves him right!

he asks marvin to help him along (yes i know he says he doesn't want help, hear me out, it's a little more complex than that) and takes advantage of the fact that marvin is- like- infatuated with him.

he draws him into a sense of false security then starts throwing accusations at him ("since you need a man!" "what?" "who's 'brainy'," "or witty, move.") until hes able to win, which he does with ease because he's been using marvin having this idea that he isn't smart against him.

of course, marvin's side of this isn't the best either but honestly, for once the fandom should focus on a different character when they think 'insane asshole'. typically we should also probably change our perspectives a little to be more unbiased cuz fr guys, this is getting really.. annoying.

i understand he's the most visibly flawed but that doesn't excuse constantly picking the worst parts of this musical (without other context, btw) to use against him.

and this post certainly isn't here to excuse anyone either i've just got a lot of opinions that i wanted to share while falsettos is.. trending? right?

2. marvin's (headcanoned but still somewhat researched) autism

this one isn't brought up as much but when i do see it around, it's kind of a skewed viewpoint.

while rewatching bits of the proshot i realized a lot of different neurodivergent traits that he shows-

he's helpless during I Never Wanted to Love You and is childish and regressive when he's upset (not every autistic person is like this either, i know this is a bit of a touchy subject so i just wanted to add that).

usually when people depict it i see it either toned down or joked about which is fine when all in good fun, and when its done respectfully.

not here to attack anyone, just here to point it out and say that yes :) he most likely is neurodivergent, but despite that his actions aren't condoned. he's still kinda a dick who needs to get his shit together

3. ..the lesbians also have shit going on?

just putting this out there- I DON'T SEE ENOUGH FOR THE LESBIANS! OR TRINA!

the girls in this musical are like thoroughly neglected and i think that's kind of shitty just assuming the fact that william finn put them in to demonstrate how gender roles put people in degrading positions (and he even makes it more prevalent by showing marvin as something like a misogynistic character who forces whizzer into more feminine roles to show the audience what woman have to/had to go through in society).

anyways, the lesbians aren't just there guys. they have a plotline too. in Something Bad is Happening, you derive a lot from charlotte singing about the outbreak of HIV/AIDS and realize how she operates on a daily basis (she's passionate about her work and takes every bad day as a hit to her life and career, explaining in a way that as a black, jewish, lesbian, FEMALE doctor in this time, everything that goes wrong is immediately brought down on her so much more than it would as any straight white male pharmacist-).

cordelia on the other hand has to handle the fact that her girlfriend is so adamant about her work ethic that she can't actually be super present in their relationship at times like that.

but either way she still sticks by her and is constantly trying to be supportive and endearing despite feeling like she's not amounting to her gf who's basically a hero in her eyes.

i kinda just wanted to bring that up because they mean a lot to me and they don't get enough love from the fanbase, thank you for listening to my TED talk <3

[tswaney17]

Some Perspective

The drama surrounding Elain Week is utterly ridiculous, and I cannot believe I'm having to write this, but for some unknown reason, people just can't seem to grasp the purpose of the "no abusers" rule set by the event team. So, let me break this down for you.

First off, this is not a shipping event. Elain Week is about (surprise!) Elain Archeron. It is a week designed to celebrate the love of her character. There is one prompt that is specifically designated for relationships. However, that can include her relationships with her sisters, her friends, and yes, potential love interests. The week is not supposed to be focused on those around her. It is supposed to be about HER.

Now let's address the whole ship thing. This rule has been in place for several years now. It is not new. So, why is it now such a big deal? After several years of having this rule in place, why is it only now becoming a big issue? Does it really bother you, or are you just looking for a fight?

But why was the rule put in place to begin with? Elain is one of the most hated characters (if not the most) in the ACOTAR fandom (for reasons I cannot even fathom). Is it because she's a traditionally soft, feminine character or because the fictional male you like actually has shown interest in her? Either way, Elain is often shipped with CANON DOMESTIC VIOLENCE ABUSERS such as Tamlin or Beron (or Flynn's DV father from Crescent City - yes, I have seen this) to make her "interesting" or to "make him better" (incase you have forgotten: women are not a rehabilitation center for broken men). Or, she's shipped with them to dehumanize her, to demean her, or even degrade her. Again, let me reiterate that this week is about positively celebrating Elain's character. So, why would the event hosts want to share art or fics or creative content that does the exact opposite? Why should those that truly love Elain be forced to watch you rip her apart during HER appreciation week? How is that fair?

Is it possible that there are some people who truly ship Elain with DV abusers with good intentions? Yes, absolutely. But is it fair to ask the event hosts to have to search through every single post and make a determination whether it's positively or negatively reflecting Elain's character? No.

If they decided to do that, and made a decision to not share some content that was determined to not attribute positively to Elain's character, would you still be throwing a fit? - Do I need to actually answer this one because we know what it would be.

So, they made a choice to set a boundary to 1) protect their DV victims who have voiced concerns in the past and 2) to ensure that this appreciation week for Elain Archeron actually stays positive. They are not saying you can't ship who you want. They have not said you cannot create whatever content you want for this event. They are only choosing to ensure that the pages dedicated to Elain remain clean of Elain hate and slander.

Ship who you want, have appreciation weeks for whatever you decide, it literally doesn't matter. But don't come at the event hosts for striving to keep things positive for a character that nine times out of ten, is negatively spoken about. If you don't like it, you are more than welcome to host your own.

Which brings me back to my earlier question... Those that are up in arms about this rule and who are bullying the event hosts (don't deny that you are, I've seen some of things being said. I've scrolled through the tags. You are indeed, bullying and harassing the hosts.), tell me - were you actually going to participate in Elain Week or are you, as I mentioned before, just looking to pick a fight?

[donutsupremacy]

Genshin men reacting to F!S/O accidentally burning her hands Pt. 2

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Summary

"HCs of Genshin men reacting to their Pyro wielding!F!S/O burning her hands on accident while cooking"

Warnings/Spoilers

Written during 4.4

Playable characters only

Reader has a Pyro vision, but the weapon choice is irrelevant

Reader is not traveller

Reader is their [S/O]

Female reader (I used as less female pronouns as I could and still refer to as [S/O])

Short HCs

Sorted by region and in alphabetical order

Includes all currently playable male characters of 4.4 and characters that may be playable in the future (Excluding Gaming because I had completed Liyue in a previous post prior to his release)

Sweet petnames uwu

Ahhh so fluffy uwu

100% SFW because ehe

100% Ooc

Reader is aware of the archon's true identities

A/N: I was lazy with this and procrastinated, also I was doing 3 oneshots at once :3

Part 2, including the harbingers from Snezhnaya too— but can't guarantee it's accurate, I made their's short because lack of info

Just like the previous one; the hcs might seem bland and repetitive, in general I see 90% of the genshin men being polite and mostly calm so I did my best to make it more dramatic :3

Part 1 [Mondstadt, Liyue and Half of Inazume]

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A hiss erupts from your throat as you quickly withdrew your hand from the fire.

Your singed hands trembled, examining the dark spots that had littered across your palms and even your knuckles and fingers. You clicked your tongue, regretting the decisions to cook without your gloves. If only they weren't torn from that expedition two days ago... you should really get new ones.

You hear the door open... "[Name]?"

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Inazuma

Kaedehara Kazuha

Side note i forgor to do his part so im editing this in lol (P.s i'm not following the whole 'The dead vision of Tomo burnt his hand' theory since I saw no confirmation about it)

Kazuha was resting on your rooftop, sharpening his blade after a long fight on the way to your home. He kept a close ear to your voice inside the house, a smile on his face as he heard your humming. But it drops into a surprised frown when he heard the sound of you hissing in pain.

He drops from the roof, landing on his feet as he enters your house and makes a beeline straight for the kitchen towards you by the time you managed to put out the fire that engulfed your hand. He calmly takes you aside and examines the injury, he's been on the road long enough to take care of basic wounds like cuts, splinters, and of course; Burns.

While having you sit next to him, he gently and carefully treats your wound, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as his featherlight touches brushed against the numb skin of your hand. Once he bandages your hand, he suggests taking a break before you continue cooking, explaining that it would help put both your mind and his at ease if you both just bask in eachother's presence for a little while.

Kazuha's arms were wrapped around your waist, his face buried into your shoulder, snow white hair tickling your cheeks and neck. He relaxes at your scent and warmth, as though he hadn't felt such tranquility during the last few days of his previous journey. Something about you just puts him into such state; Your voice? Your smile? Your heart? No— It was everything about you that made him smitten.

"A flame burns within the presence of a silent moon. Illuminating the surrounding area. Soothing in its warm embrace... You ought to be careful if you aren't using your glove next time, would you like to borrow my spare ones? Ease your worries, they're heat resistant and won't wear down so easily, I have plenty and know where to go for more. Think of it from a different perspective; Instead of worrying that you're stealing something valuable for me... think of it as a part of me that will stay with you until I return home once more."

Shikanoin Heizou

Help i'm running out of hcs i'm sorry Heizou my husband pls help

Heizou wastes no time in dragging you away from the stove and to your bedroom, making you sit down as he treats your wounds.

He reprimands you a little for your reckless decision, but soon peppers you with kisses just to cheer you up. Especially if you get a little pouty when he scolds you. As cute as your pout is, he's removing it with his own kiss until you succumb to his affection. Your his [S/O] it's his job to smother you with his affection, and Celestia above knows just how much he wants you to feel his love for you every second of the day.

Spoons you when he's done tending to your wounds, arms wrapped around your waist and chest pressed against your back, chin resting on top of your head. Heizou loves the feeling of your body pressed up against his, it feels so comforting to have you in his arms, your skin against his. It puts him through a state of ease and satisfaction that not even sucessfully solving the hardest case known to mankind would bring. You have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers.

The both of you just chatting about random topics, the other listening attentively— occasional banters here and there. But if you're hungry, he begrudgingly allows you to continue cooking— under his supervision. He keeps a close eye on you, he won't let the smallest detail go unnoticed if it's for your safety and comfort. He'll cling onto you whether you like it or not, especially if you're doing something that requires strength or fire.

"Hands up now, my dear partner. Here, it's easier and safer for me to light the stove instead... *Chuckles* Stop complaining, sweetheart— just because it's more convenient to use your Pyro vision, doesn't mean you'll end up setting your hand in flames again. And if you do... I won't throw you into custody for something stupid. But— I will be nagging you endlessly. You would prefer your boyfriend's sweet and loving kisses over endless yapping, would you not?... Now, come here~"

Thoma

*Mom mode activate*

Berates you for being reckless instead of calling for his aid, but that doesn't stop him from tending to your wounds... neither does it stop him from lecturing you.

He offers to switch jobs with you, leaving you to do something else that doesn't require much strength or your Pyro vision— such as cleaning the windows on the lower floor of the Kamisato estate, or folding the laundry.

Or, if you're an official (E.g. A Kamisato sibling or relative), he'll have you sit aside while he does the cooking and forbids you to do anything.

He'll invite the Kamisato siblings over to join you both for lunch, even play that weird hotpot game— to which Thoma somehow won. As expected.

Of course, he gets sick due to one of the Kamisato siblings putting a bizarre ingredient inside— leading you to help Thoma back to his room and onto his bed.

He then says that his stomachache will feel better with a cuddle... of course, he was lying, but you have no say in it because you'll always end up cuddling him in bed one way or another. A little white lie doesn't hurt now, would it?

"Don't worry about me, usually these hotpot games always end with me nearly throwing up... but it's fine if I have you here with me. Funny, it seems like you're the one cheering me up instead of the other way around. How's your hand holding up? Want me to pepper it with kiss? Oh, who am I kidding— i'm going to do that either way. Now... your hand, please, my dear?"

Sumeru

Alhaitham

Of course he's gonna shit talk u, but the most he'll do is call u and idiot— in a fancy way~

He's not really happy about getting up and treating your wounds when he has work to do, reprimanding you for using your vision without your glove. But, if it's for you— he'll push aside his attitude to tend to your needs... if you have a valid excuse for said needs, that is.

Hands you some mora and tells you to go buy some gloves. But once you're gone, he began looking over at the dish you were trying to make— and begins continuing the dish you were making, wanting to finish it for you. Though, he might alter the flavouring to his liking because he wants it to taste good to him as well. Of course, he'll try to make it close to what you were making. Key word; Try.

Once you're back, he has you spoon feed him for not only using his mora but also to bother his personal time. It might seem like he's being a jerk, but... he stole Kaveh's keys on purpose and locked him out for a reason— to have some time together with you.

It might seem like a silly and an inconvenient way to spend time together alone with you. But with him being the acting Grand Sage and all those nosy scholars constantly trying to pry on in on his business... he truly values you and wants to spend some time with you in any way possible. Even the dumbest ways. After all; His personal time also includes having your affection.

"...Is there something on my face? I can clearly see you're pouting... I assume it's because you keep feeding me bites but not tasting the dish yourself? I never remotely hinted in my demand that you had to feed me the whole dish without having a taste of it for yourself, this was meant to be created by your own hands... had you not become so reckless in the kitchen. Hand me the spoon, I promise I didn't make it taste as bland as you trying to make it before."

Cyno

"You burned yourself? Well... that's what you get for... being too hot... Heh... Heh heh."

Aside from that not-so-flattering pun, he'll help you treat your wounds quickly but efficiently... but quickly drags you into a game of TCG at Lambad's Tavern. You're his [S/O], you're legally obliged to say yes without objection. If he loses, he tells another joke. If you win, you get a kiss on the cheek.

He'll let you order your favorites, occasionally spoon feeds you— as a distraction to sneak a peek at your support cards. As your boyfriend, the both of you are allowed to play dirty against eachother. Anyone else, he would've punted to the ground if they dared steal a peak at his dices.

All jokes aside (Pun half-intended), he did it to not only have fun with you, but also to make you forget about that little humiliating experience. Because at the end of the day— you'll find yourself always in Cyno's strong and protective arms as he hugs you from behind, his nose pressed against the back of your neck as you both rest on his bed.

"Feeling better, my love? I apologize for dragging you around all day just because you burnt your hand a little, but it was worth it in the end, no? I enjoy spending time and having fun with you... You could say I— *Bonk* ow. I hadn't even thought of a pun yet, you didn't have to be so... fiery. Heh. Heh heh."

Kaveh

help im running out of ideas and Kaveh's still locked outside lol

Kaveh sighs upon hearing from Alhaitham when you burned your hand in their kitchen, though he pins the blame on Alhaitham for not looking after you or helping you while he was gone. Alhaitham only replies that he wasn't your babysitter and that you're a grown adult.

He walks in to see you treating your wounds, frowning at the sight of your bandaged hand and sighed when you explained yourself. "You shouldn't use your vision so recklessly like that, darling... I'll buy you a new glove... Don't worry about me, I know a friend that can make gloves at a cheap price... or a cheap favor."

Has you sitting down on his bed and forced Alhaitham to go cook, who probably went out to buy something from the tavern for the two of you. At least you two were alone now.

Cuddles you on bed, big spoon or little spoon, it's up to your preferences. Halfway through, he'll pick up a marker and asks what you would want him to draw in your bandage, just to make you feel better.

"There we go, is this what you envisioned; a small [Favorite Animal]? Yes, I made it look like you— endearing, cute and gorgeous! Hmm... wait, I think it's missing something, let me just... Tada! I drew myself next to you! I hope you don't see this as something childish, I just want you see that even if you were to hurt yourself, major or minor wounds, i'll be here with you, my darling."

Tighnari

Calls u a lummox

Tighnari obviously scolds you when he finds out you somehow burned yourself while he was out taking care of a Withering zone nearby. Could you be anymore clumsier? He can't leave you alone for a minute, can he?

After a minute of naming every single synonym related to 'Clumsy' and 'Reckless', he helps to treat your wound and asks Collei to keep you company as he leaves to fetch you both something to eat. She's quite close to you, you're like an older sibling for her and sees you as a mother figure in a way. Though, if you were upset from Tighnari's lecturing earlier, she's does her best to cheer you up.

Eventually, he comes back with your favorite [comfort food] and even brought Collei some pita pockets. She quickly leaves, not wanting to interrupt her master and his beloved's alone time.

Tighnari apologises a little for getting slightly carried away while scolding you, feeding you while he explains what shenanigans ensued in the withering zone. To both make you feel better and to help him relax, he allows you to pet his ear and tail. Sometimes, his cheeks were noticeably a faint pink colour if you manage to scratch a certain spot behind his ears— to which he'll try to use his tail and gently nudge your hand away to avoid embarrassing himself.

"Ow! Is that how you handle stray dogs that wander in the streets of Sumeru City? You pluck their ears like it's a sweet flower?... *Sighs* It's fine, I know it's only an accident. Plus, my ears were hit by a Winged Cyroshroom when I was clearing a Withering zone, it's sensitive and cold... Hm? Oh, no, you can keep touching it, i'm certainly not going to stop you at all. Your hands feel warm and nice. Your carresses calms me down... as long as you don't pull on my ear or tail too hard."

Wanderer ([W/N]= Wanderer's name; It can be Scaramouche, Kunikuzushi, Wanderer or your own desired name for him!)

"...How a vision bearer who has already mastered her own powers become so clumsy as to have it turn against her is far beyond me." "(W/N)—"

Nahida happened to be visiting you today with [W/N], who was planning to ask if you were free and wanted to accompany him to an underground ruin in the desert— but that plan was quickly abandoned upon seeing the burn marks on your hand.

Nahida took initiative to help tend to your wounds, her tiny little fingers gently applied a cooling ointment on your burn marks while [W/N] had you sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. He held your free hand, thumb gently brushing against your knuckles in an affectionate manner. He's oddly... affectionate and caring today, even though he wasn't speaking as much, only basking in your presence as he holds you. Up until Buer asks if you had any gauze that she could use.

As soon as the Dendro Archon left, [W/N]'s face contorted to an expression of unamusement, a brow raised and the corner of his lips tugging downwards. He scoffs, playing with your fingers as he starts to slander you with insults, rubbing salt into your wounds. But you're used to it by now and you don't back down so easily.

By the time Nahida returns, she stands at the doorway, wearing a look of utter confusion as she watches [W/N] trying to hold you still on his lap. His arms remained wrapped tightly around your waist, barking at you to stop squirming and let him hold you while you whine and hiss about his haircut. She quietly backs away, leaving the roll of gauze outside your room for you.

"Your vision speaks for your attitude; Fiery and a complete hazard wherever you go!... I'm wasting my precious time to come over and coddle you like an infant, not to say that I hate it... I mildly dislike it because you're more reckless than a boar!... *Sighs* Now, do you want me to waste my breath as well arguing with you, or are you going to relax and let me hold you?... Do us both a favor and come here, I need it just as much as you do..."

Fontaine

Freminet

Idk what to write for Fremi. So I made him suffer for like 6 lines or smth lol

Upon seeing you holding your hand, hissing while glaring at the black marks on your hand, he rushes over to check on you. He was soaking wet to the bone however, having came back from a diving mission in search for some materials deep in the sea. Drops of water splattered across your face and clothes, now you feel oily and wet.

He frantically apologises, picking up a cloth nearby and lightly wiping your face clean... unfortunately, you already used that cloth to wipe some excess flour. Now, your face is sticky.

To make things worse, he tries to wipe it away with his bare hands that were still wet, only smudging both your face and his fingers. It's at this point, you felt less pain from your burn, and giggling more at his frantic attempts to help you. It's ticklish too.

In the end, you ushered the blonde to change as you patched yourself up, then inviting him for a cuddling as you can clearly see embarrasment written all over his face that you're comforting him instead of the other way around... But he's certainly not complaining. It feels comfortable being in your arms as you played with his hair. Pers resting by your side.

"Thank you, it's... I guess today isn't really my lucky day... Ah, th-there's no need to be concerned of me, i've encountered a few minor setbacks while I was diving near some shallow waters. A few treasure horders hindered me when I was trying to transport back the materials, A few bruises and cuts, but that's alright. Especially... n-now that i'm with you..."

Lyney

Slight 'animal abuse', it's just live fish and putting it out of it's misery dw

Helps treats your wounds, but takes out his half-capelet (Yes I googled what it's called) and wraps it firmly around your burnt hand, adding the excuse that if he was busy performing, a part of him would still be with you and helping you to heal.

After making sure your hand was alright, he'll help you cook whatever it was you were originally making, only he takes care of anything involving heat. He's the one with gloves

Half-way through, you find out that you've ran out of salmon. Lyney, wanting to try a new magic trick he had been practising and also wanting your attention all on him, called you over with an empty bowl in hand. He filled the bowl with cold water, then placed a large cloth over it and asks you to keep an eye on the bowl.

A few seconds later, he swiftly pulls the cloth away, showing a large, fresh salmon resting in the bowl of water with a few seaweed wrapped around it's body. At first, you were going to have him an applause... until you realize the fish is still alive. And aggresive.

It leaps at you, smacking it's powerful tail against your face, then jumping over to Lyney and accidentally slipping into his mouth. He gags and frantically spits it out, the fish landing on the floor and flailing around violently. It only calmed down when you managed to grab it and put it out of it's misery with a swift and clean cut.

Now, you and Lyney were covered in water and seaweed. He was trying to make sure you were alright, hoping his small accident hadn't hurt you too much or left a bruise... he tried to talk, until he realized he had a mouth full of seaweed.

"I have scales and seaweed in my mouth... Blegh! Are you alright, sweetheart?— Oh, don't worry about me, i've fought things worse than a fish. *Chuckles, then grimaces* Oh... you've got a small bruise... i'm sorry, sweetheart. I... should've thought twice before using live fish, let alone bringing my magic tricks into the kitchen. Here, you go sit down, let me make it up to you and finish the dish. I don't want to risk accidentally make a live chicken appear next or something *Chuckles*."

Neuvillette

I ran out of ideas, but I love suffering <3

He was coming over to visit you during his break, a little tired as he bad been bombarded with a lot of work recently. He's glad he has you, simply being in your presence helps his mood, he can't help but smile a little when he hears your voice, or notice the faint smell of your scent lingering in the room.

So seeing you, looking irritated and upset, he chuckles as he helps tend to your wounds. Then, he invites you to his office, not because of some official business— he just wants to have lunch with you.

Despite the calm and quiet atmosphere between the two of you, Melusines and some of the Maison Gestion members frequently enter his office— looking for him and asking for his guidance on their work. Meanwhile, you sat at the other side of the table across of Neuvillette, quietly eating your [Dessert] with a strained expression if annoyance. But you can't do anything about it, it's Neuvillette's work after all.

He catches on quite quickly, chuckling while apologising as he can't really catch a break when in his office, but he's glad you're here nonetheless, your presence makes him feel as calm as water.

"Fret not, my dear, I assure you this will be the last one... I would like to cherish my time with you more. Here, have this glass of water, it is found exclusively in the depths of Erinnyes Forest, purified. The aftertaste is crisp and strong, yet, has a glacé like flavour once it touches the surface of your tongue. Savour it well, for it contains quite the rich taste when it settles."

Wriothesley

Jokes that u would be safer in the Fortress of Meropide instead of being in front of a stove

His little joke seemed ironic when both of you were currently in the said fortress, as you helping out with cooking meals for everyone, including your beloved, Wriothesley. Unfortunately for him, you were in the middle of making his food when you burnt both it and your hand.

Wriothesley escorts you to the infirmary, having Sigewinnie examine your wounds and tend to it while he sits next to you. He teases you by making back-handed compliments to your dish, stating that he couldn't wait to taste the new 'charcoal' spice you added, knowing the dish was burnt.

Of course, in the end, he still takes the failed dish and eats it right in front of your face without spitting it out. Despite the grimace on his face and the occasional eye twitch followed by the sound of his teeth grinding against the blackened, burnt bits— he smiles at you fondly, giving you a thumbs up and ruffling your hair.

Wriothesley would likely suffer a horrendous pain later on, but if it's for you; he'd do anything... except if shorten your sentence.

"Hey! Hey! Relax! I'm joking, the dish isn't completely burnt, I know that. I'm simply... discarding the singed areas of the food. With my mouth. Then, we can share the remains together!... I can tell by your face even you don't want to eat this. Very well then, i'll go [brew us a cup of tea/get your favorite drink]."

Snezhaya + Misc.

Childe

at this point ive officially ran out of ideas so im just copy and pasting the hcs :'>

You were tasked with creating a dish for one of the Harbingers, perhaps if you can salvage enough of the remains, your head wouldn't be pierced torched to bits like your current dish... Luckily for you, a certain ginger had snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and asking what happened.

Tartaglia tends to your wounds, occasionally teasing you for being so nervous about the harbinger you were supposed to serve putting your head on their polearms. Of course, once he was done, he helps you to cook the dish so you wouldn't get into too much trouble. Your little secrets and failures are always safe with him.

He doesn't allow you to touch anything that requires heating or using any sharp equipment, skilled in combat as he is, he's quite skilled with kitchen weapons equipment too. In his eyes, anything can be a weapon if you know how to handle it.

The end result was... somewhat disappointing. But Tartaglia quotes it 'Somewhat passable' if he knows the harbinger he knows you're serving. He accompanies you, to keep you safe, knowing that harbinger doesn't have a single sane bone in her body. Luckily, she only dismissed you with a little wave after the taste, stating that it was fine. Once you both were alone, he ruffles your hair playfully and plants a kiss on your nose. No matter what hinders you in your task, you can always trust on your beloved to help remove any obstacles for you. You survived Arlecchino today... but now you're dealing with an overly affectionate Tartaglia. Not that you're complaining.

"See? I told you it was somewhat passable. Now... how's your hand, still numb? Sore? If your hand has fully healed... what say you treat me to your signature dish? As a form of repayment for helping you! *Chuckles* I'm only teasing, kitten... Come with me, let me go treat you to the finest dish in Snezhnaya instead! And no buts! I'd like to see your pretty smile again as your actual form of repayment!~"

Il Dottore

Slight TW (?) Somewhat, it's just a lil bit of blood

You were making something for the doctor to eat in his lab while he was busy, which also meant that you were using his equipment when he heard you burn your hand on accident with a hiss, to which he chuckles and suggests to not tinker with it too much.

Helps to treat your wounds, but in return asks for a small drop of your blood. After he extracts it, he sends you off to cook somewhere else as he decides to examine the cells in your blood. He's been wanting to try this one hypothesis he had in mind, but didn't have a willing subject. He won't make you go through what the others have gone through... he's too fond of you and your endearing behaviour.

Once you're back, you sat next to him to eat the dish you made, occasionally feeding him as you watched him work. It wasn't until you saw the small vial containing your blood and an unknown liquid did you see him inject it to something that looked like the equivalent of a dead rabbit. You flinched, seeing it's unmoving muscles suddenly twitch for a few seconds— before remaining still again. Dottore sighs, it's an improvement... perhaps a bigger dose of your blood was needed. But that's an experiment for another time, for now, he wraps his arms around your waist and pecks your cheek.

"Did I scare you sweetheart? My apologies, I thought I might have discovered a... breakthrough of sorts. Only for it to end in utter disappointment. No matter. How is your hand? Do you feel numb from the ointment I applied on your burns?... *Mumbles* Perhaps the heat may have altered your blood temperature, that could explain the mild effects when I combined it with— Hm? Oh, no, don't worry about it sweetheart. *Chuckles* How about we go for a walk? It feels a little stuffy in here."

Capitano

Imma just write a rlly short ones from here on out im getting lazy with researching these characters

Capitano decided to take a small break and left headquarters to check up on you when he heard your hiss of pain, he comes over and questions why you weren't wearing a glove while wasting no time in treating your little accident.

Once he was done, he brings you back to the Fatui headquarters and has one of the receuits in charge of cooking to make you your favorite dish. It's a bit of a pressure for them, considering you're the ever-righteous captain's [S/O]. Later on, he has you sitting on his lap in his office, one arm holding you close while the other arm was holding a map of Teyvat— explaining another expedition he was tasked to handle.

"Do you recall the last expedition I led back in Mondstadt? Well, my time will unfortunately be occupied for another number of days to come. Until then, however, may I ask you a favor?; I'd like to have your presence in my office as much as I can before the day of my departure. Of course, once I return, I will clear my schedule and have time for you alone... So you won't have to make such a measly little reckless mistake again. I'd like to see you in one piece and unscathed when I return."

Pantalone

slight yandere fatui baizhu :>

He brings you to the infirmary in the Fatui Headquarters, cooing softly as he asks if you're feeling alright and if you were embarrassed for nearly burning your hand off.

Pantalone's wealth met no ends, so he spends a not-so-healthy sum for a meal made by the most talented chef in Snezhnaya. If any of the dishes made were to not meet his standards, you can expect that the chef would likely be sued with a falsified lawsuit, you would be surprised of what the Fatui are capable of.

Try to decline his offer as you might, whether it's because you couldn't finish such a huge feast or you didn't want to him to burn off such a large part of his wealth, he simply brushed you off and states that his Mora is also considered your Mora. That innocent smile of his only asks you don't ask any more questions and let him love you. Treat you like the goddess you truly are.

"Oh, there's no need to make such ludicrous assumptions, i'm merely treating my beloved queen to a feast that she deserves. The cost has been covered, no need to fret, just enjoy. No one will disturb us, even if they will... They wouldn't dare~"

Pulcillena

Why

Seeing you burn yourself because you didn't have a glove, he helps to treat your wound and later leaves to commision a new set of gloves for you— one that wouldn't be easily destroyed like your previous ones.

Once he returns with both your new pair of gloves and a meal for you, he only asks that you spend more time with him as a form of repayment. Being a Fatui harbinger takes up quite a lot of time, and Pulcillena worries that he may be neglecting you.

Some might say he was being overprotective and overbearing, but in reality, all he wants is to bask in your presence and company.

"Come, my beloved— I have plenty of time to spare, I don't require a second thought to choose what I spend my free time on. What say we do a bit of sightseeing? I know somewhere scenic will leave you completely speechless."

Pierro

Wtf do I even write for this guy I know nothing abt him

Pierro was dropping by to see if you would like to spend some quality time together, seeing as he was finally able to clear a good chunk of his schedule to come and see you. Originally, he was planning to bring you somewhere secluded and quiet, just the two of you. But he decides to postpone that for a little while upon seeing your hand in flames.

He calmly puts out the fire and helps to treat your wound, offering to help aid you with your cooking. Though, he states that he'll mostly be at the side and only help when the situation is dire, he'll allow you to handle the rest of the cooking yourself.

Although, you eventually repeated the same mistake again; Using your Pyro vision and accidentally engulfing your hand in flames. He puts it out swiftly before any severe damage was done to your hand again, a damp cloth was used to help with the burn as he reassures you that you were alright and that it was just a simple mistakes.

"It seems you still have yet to learn from your mistakes. No need for apologies, you were only distracted by something unforeseeable, but it won't have any consequences so as long as I am here to keep you under my supervision and my protection— you'll always be unscathed when you're with me, my beloved."

Dainsleif

This is Post-Abyss twin journey where he finished his journey with Aether and parted from him, he occasionally comes back to u

On the way to your abode, he had to go through numerous obstacles on the path, and they weren't taking his presence too kindly, let alone be any less aggresive than they should be. Nonethless, he clears them in the end, just in case you would be taking the same path. So when he finally arrives to see you with your hand in flames, he was covered in various scratches and bruises, probably a fractured leg too.

Dainsleif easily puts out the small fire that nearly engulfed your hand using a damp cloth and treats your wounds. As much as you tried to take care of his own wounds, he states that he was alright and that he had suffered far worse fate in compared to a few measly little hits that took him off guard.

Eventually, he concedes and allows you to treat his wounds, you've helped patched him up a few times when he was on the road so you one a few precautionary steps to take and how to handle certain injuries.

As a fair exchange, he helps to finish the dish you made, he knew basic cooking... but he wasn't an expert. Due to a mishap while using the stove, he ends up in the same predicament as you; his hand englufed in tiny flames. Thankfully, you managed to frantically put out the fire in time with the same cloth, and he was still wearing his glove that minimised the damage done to his skin.

"...I'm fine, there's nothing to worry, i've surffered much worse than a little burn. It'll cause nothing more than slight discomfort at most, i'll live through it. It won't affect my performance—... You want me to take a rest? I'm unscathed, dear. This isn't a concerning matter, it doesn't add to my previous injuries...*Sigh* Alright, if that's a command from you, I won't deviate."

Aether

This is MC Aether and not Abyss Twin Aether btw so Paimon exists bc I love her she's my little bby. But he's not mute.

He was in the middle of setting up your sleeping bags when he heard you burning your hand. He immediately drops everything and checks up on you, helping to treat your wound with the limited supplies you both had.

He decides to help you with cooking— until he realizes you're had accidentally burnt off half the recipe. But he brushes it off, stating that you both had made plenty of good dishes before, what's so hard about—

Ingredients scattered across the grassy field beneath you, stew stains seeping into the soil of the ground, you watch as Aether frantically puts out the fire using his Hydro powers. The dish was worse than when you made it, but surely a bit of improvisation wouldn't hurt, he's been on the road for quite some time so Aether know how to fix and use his creativity—

In the end, you watched as your blonde companion held a dish that was not only burnt, but also dry and practically dehydrated. The ingredients used had incorrect proportions and you swore you saw a large chunk of it deteriorated from using his Electro powers on accident. Despite your protests, he states that surely it wouldn't taste so bad—

It was horrible and he had to throw up while you and Paimon had to rub circles on his back, your tiny floating companion worried but also pretty upset that you both decided to make a dish without a proper recipe instead of something simple to cook or something you've made before. She states that even she would've thought twice on making a different dish instead of trying to fix the already ruined one.

"My bad, but i'm fine, i'm fine... Eugh. Nothing I haven't handled before, i've honestly had much worse. How about we make a quick stop to Mondstadt's Good Hunter? It's not too far, we have some Mora to spare. We're better off just asking Sara for something to eat rather than risking another injury or throwing up in our sleep."

[karteinss]

Co-workers.

Top Male! Reader x Sub! Scara

Unreliable Narrator/Outsider's perspective, original female character, and male reader.

Cw: bottom scara & slight nsfw.

M/n and Scaramouche were polar opposites, nothing of them matches up but they did have one thing in common; Wanting to become the Employee of the year.

M/n was a bright handsome young man, always loyal and obedient (or so their boss thought), almost never missing a day at work. He was loud but generous, a fun guy to hang out but he could also have a serious side to him.

Meanwhile, Scara was a rather cold but pretty man, a quite intimidating figure in the office. Though he holds no authority of a higher figure, his face and cold tone was intimidating enough for anyone to look away, afraid to make him angry.

The only way they would "interact" was through their rivalry. Insane, right? That's what Celine thought when she first entered their department.

It really was a tiring job, not only did she do overtime often but she has to do it with those 2, making it even more struggling and painful.

She really wishes she could've been put in another department, to do overtime in peace at least.

She was tired and absolutely annoyed at both of them in the first year of her job but as another year passed by, she got used to it.

But it didn't mean that she didn't get tired of listening to their bickering, it could lead to “physical” fights if they go far enough which she herself had to stop..

She was just like their nanny, an underpaid one to be exact.

For those who are asking: No, the HR doesn't know a thing about this since they always fought at places where the security cameras couldn't see.

And none of the other employees decided to snitch on them— Let's just say that they were too afraid.

The amount of stress she gained was abnormal from just listening to them bickering!

She should get paid for doing such a job so torturous.

.

.

.

Celine was just doing some work peacefully, writing documents and other things an average worker with a minimum wage salary would do. Well, her peaceful and quiet atmosphere was short-lived when she suddenly heard a loud crash in the Janitor's closet.

Ah, fuck, they're at it again.

Celine walked towards the Janitor's closet and she was right— Inside, there was M/n on top of Scara, their clothes were slightly messy.

God, when will they ever stop fighting?

Celine just sighed, “What are you both doing? You should be doing your work, not fight. Stand up” Celine commanded, her voice sounded threatening but there was barely any intimidation in her voice.

As they both stood up, she saw red-blue marks on their skins.

Damn, how far did those bastards go? Celine was confused, they would always fight “Physically” but they were never badly injured.

As she was still rambling inside her head, M/n talked first.

“He started it first.”

The accusation made Scara's eyes widened as he yelled.

“WHAT!? NO I DIDN'T!” Scara responds with a loud yell, which made M/n smirk. “Yes you did, you dragged me here first, no?” He said calmly, meanwhile, Scara looked so angry and red— red from embarrassment, maybe.

Scara tries to respond back but he stays silent, he just walked right out of the Janitor's Closet with his ears and cheeks painted a light red.

He must've been embarrassed.

As Celine watched Scara walk out, M/n suddenly whispers; “Don't tell the HR or anyone about this, it was just a friendly fight, no worries.” M/n whispered but a small smirk was visible on his face as he too went out of the closet.

Well, AT LEAST M/n was slightly better than Scara in terms of personality.

Though, she often questions if their dynamic was healthy or not— They get into physical fights often, isn't that too extreme?

She lets out an exaggerated sigh as she too left the Janitor's closet to resume her work—

She wonders if they truly hate each other.

“Celine, they're fighting again...” Her colleague pointed out, it was in the middle of the day, it was only 1pm and this was the 3rd time today! Not to mention it was a goddamn Monday! Could her day just get any worse?

“I know, just let them be” She responds calmly, too tired of their bullshit as she continues writing a document.

“M/n is dragging scara somewhere—”

A slam could be heard from Celine's table as Celine immediately walked over to them, grabbing Scara's arm to pull him back.

“You will NOT fight in this office, fight elsewhere.” Celine said to M/n as she dragged Scara from M/n's grasp and dragged him back to his chair.

“Work, don't fight, this is an office.” Celine said as she left both Scara and M/n stunned.

“We're not fighting! I just wanted to talk to him privately—”

“Is it work related?”

That seemed to stun M/n as he went quiet.

“No...It isn't.” M/n says truthfully, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Find an appropriate time to do it, then. Office hours aren't supposed to be time for you both to start a petty fight” Celine was getting more and more tired of them, she was hoping this was the last time they'll fight for such petty reasons.

“Right, sorry..I won't do it again” M/n apologizes as Celine nods. “You too, Scara.” She also told him, Scara just silently nodded she finally went back to her seat in peace.

Hopefully this will be the last time they fight.

A few weeks have passed since then and one day, M/n didn't come to work which was unusual since he never missed any days of work. But the more unusual thing is that Scara didn't come to work either— This should've been an advantage for Scara but apparently, he too didn't come to work.

“Weird” Celine thought to herself, maybe it was just a simple coincidence.

Well, atleast she would have some peace for a day.

No, it was just a coincidence.

Every goddamn time one of them gets sick, the other doesn't come to work either.

It can't just be a mere coincidence, right?

Curiosity killed the cat as Celine finally decided to ask both of them why they don't come to work when the other was sick.

And all they answered was;

“I want to make the rivalry fair”

That didn't stop her curiousity at all!

It seems out of character for those two bastards who literally fight every goddamn time they even lay their eyes on each other.

But hey, at least Celine has the peace she always longed for on those days.

It was just a normal Friday night for Celine, overtime in the office again, stuck with those two bastards and some other colleagues which Celine thanked God for.

The good thing is she gets paid for this shit, which is a good thing but she secretly wishes for more pay— A fee for taking care of those delinquents who kept trying to bite into each other's necks.

It was always; “He started it first!” this or “He doesn't deserve to be employee of the year!” that, well turns out none of them were employee of the year, Celine was.

At least her efforts paid off but it was a headache of trying to comfort an upset M/n and an annoyed Scara...God, those two were like the Sun and the moon.

As Celine was rambling inside of her head, she didn't notice how the sky became darker. She glanced at the office computer and saw how it was already time for her to leave, she looked at the left and right sides of her to notice how both Scara and M/n were both gone.

Oh no, those fuckers were probably at it again.

She hurriedly tries to look for them in every nook and cranny, she couldn't find anyone to help her as she realized her other colleagues had already left as she panicked.

They could be in a massive fight, oh god. What if they try to kill each other and one of them tries to kill her too???

All those negative thoughts were making Celine's head spin, but she still tried to look for them despite her fear of possibly getting killed by one of those psychos.

She searched and searched and finally— She stood in front of the Men's bathroom, there's no way she's going to do this right? Celine was reconsidering her decision, will it be like those true crime documentaries where she'll get brutally killed in the bathroom!? This was the men's bathroom, what if someone saw her and thought she was a huge ass pervert?

All those thoughts kept running throughout her head, but she stopped to listen into the bathroom as she heard a...whimper?

There was definitely someone there.

She placed her ear next to the door, trying to hear what was happening inside.

She heard...sounds of pain? Moans? Groans?

Then, she heard a voice like Scara screaming and begging to do whatever the other person was doing to him.

“M/n..! S-stopngh—”

Oh my fucking God.

M/N WAS A MURDERER.

What if she barges in and gets killed too in the process?

What if M/n found out she was eavesdropping and was brutally murdered?

What if..

What if!?

All of those “What if” questions kept repeating inside of her head as if she was back in 5th grade studying about WH-Questions.

God, she didn't like Scara but she didn't want him dead...

There's no other choice but to barge in.

As Celine starts to bang on the door, trying to communicate with Scara by screaming— She stopped when M/n finally opened the door and to her surprise; He wasn't covered in blood, rather, he was covered in sweat and some sort of...liquid? Not to mention, his clothes were messy like it had just been put on.

Did...did she misunderstand the situation?

She was speechless and embarrassed, as M/n suddenly coughs and talks.

“Hey um..do you mind leaving us alone? I..I promise you I'm not a murderer”

That's something a murderer would say!

“And why should I?” Celine responds back, leaving M/n sweating nervously. He stepped aside to show a somewhat perfectly fine Scara but he too was drenched in sweat, his clothes were a mess though.

“Oh...”

Did Celine interrupt something?

“Y-yeah uh...Please leave us alone...I want to talk to him privately”

Oh...

“Yeah...uhm, sure. Sorry.” Celine apologized as she quickly took her leave in embarrassment, so she misunderstood everything!?

They looked like a mess, and they were drenched in sweat. Were they exercising?

What the hell were they doing in there?

All those thoughts were repeating again and again as she quickly packed up her bag and turned off the office lights.

As she passed the same men's Bathroom, she could've sworn she heard a loud moan.

She doesn't want to know what they're doing.

[fangirlingpuggle]

saw something about how if you want to understand a character write an aita post from their perspective so i thought of your au and this was born, this accurate?

prism pines au bill: aita for wanting to be present in my childrens lives? i (like a billion or smt? triangle) recently found out that my old partner (60, male) and i have two twelve year old twins from an experiment we did on karaoke night that i didn't know about until this summer when i went on a work trip that involved their uncle who they had been living with since they were born. i ended up making a bad impression on them at first and they didnt like me much so i left to regroup and see how they had been living, it was horrible. they were severely lacking in basic nuitrition (they werent even being fed teeth!) and they were getting into danger they were told they couldnt protect themselves from because they would have to use stuff they inherited from me to do so! my partner, who only started being present in their lives shortly after i met them has started insisting that i am a danger to the twins and has been putting up barriers to keep me from seeing them. i moved to the place where my kids and partner are and have one of the twins with me now, but the other ran off when i showed up after watching me and my partner have a bit of a fight, ive been sending people to look for him but hes a slippery one. in the meantime ive been trying to get my partner to see reason about how we should raise the kids together and bringing up all the things i could give him and them as well as bringing up plans on how to bond as a family but hes been really resistent to everything, aita?

HA! Love this.

I imagining Bill asking this to residents of Gravity Falls and when they say yes he makes them into part of his throne.

[yukishirostar]

So people are talking about a post in the Zolu tag by a certain tumblr user in regards to their issues with Zolu as a ship. They shall be unnamed because i dont wish to bring attention to them and instead just want to focus on their arguments because they're not the first people to make some of these points and so this is also an opportunity for me to talk about these things (a tweet is going around on Twitter containing these screenshots with the username so you can find it there if you need to anyway).

The way this person dismisses the relationship between Zoro and Luffy as a result of needing to pair gay Zoro with someone is too laughable, they must be very fit in order to be able to do these mental gymnastics. I believe that many people who are going on about the Zolu scenes in the OPLA were already Zolu shippers who were familiar with the original story and are enjoying the moments because they were well, really good Zolu moments? And there is actually, shockingly, many good Zolu moments in the original story too which is why many people ship them. Wild, I know.

Then there's 'straight-washed Sanji'. Equally if not more of a bizarre thing to believe. I might make some people mad especially the Sanji stans out there who constantly insist on the 'repressed queer' narrative with his character, but Sanji is written pretty explicitly to be seen as a cisgender and heterosexual character. The way you say with your whole chest that Luffy is 'canonically' aroace but don't acknowledge that Sanji is 'canonically' cishet is beyond hypocritical. If you believe Sanji looking like a 'misogynistic straight man' is different from the way he is written in canon then maybe you should go back and reread/rewatch series with your eyes open this time. If you wish to headcanon him with the frankly offensive repressed bisexual/transgender cliché then go ahead, but that is clearly not the intention Oda has with his character.

There's also the fact that aroace people can uh. Be in relationships. Get married. Have children. Did it occur to you that many people who ship Zolu ship them as an ace couple or-

First thing I want to say here, as a trans man who is 'mlm', can other dudes stop with this idea that women or fem-aligned individuals enjoying homosexual relationships between two men is inherently fetishising or that as a masc-aligned individual your enjoyment of a ship is morally superior in some way. Stop pulling out your 'mlm/ transmasc / cis gay' card in order to justify why your ship is superior. Its cringe af.

But if we are to insist that 'cishet female gaze fetishising mlm' is going on then ironically Zosan fits that the better than any ship in the fandom. It being by far the most popular mlm ship means there is likely a higher proportion of people who identify as cishet women who ship it. Its also the classic 'two men who dislike/hate eachother and have a toxic relationship but hot sexual tension' slash/yaoi stereotype. Majority of Zosan I've come across is depicting Zoro as the masculine male man in the relationship while Sanji the effeminate twink that Sanji stans project themselves onto and they go crazy for the bickering that is apparently reminiscent to them of a toxic heterosexual marriage. Meanwhile every Zolu/Luzo shipper I've interacted with has been some flavour of queer and Zolu is closest to the 'falling in love with your same sex bestie' narrative that the majority if not every non-heterosexual person has experienced at least once in their lifetime. This is just my personal view of course, but I think noting a difference in perspective on this topic is interesting and reveals that at the end of the day this is totally subjective and based purely on anecdotes.

Also it's just a very weird point here that apparently OP has 'plenty of varied queer rep' (it actually doesn't have that many canonical queer characters in relation to its cast size but anyway) and other media doesn't so shipping aroace characters in gay relationships is valid in those but not in One Piece … HUH???? So you're saying if One Piece had 'less' queer rep, then Zolu would be fine to ship? Idek my brain hurts.

"I have black friends so I'll speak for the black community and get offended for them" (btw this person then proceeded to block aroace people who had issues with their depiction of aroace people).

Also if we're talking canonical depictions, the only thing Zoro has been canonically depicted as is also aroace, equally if not moreso than Luffy. So by your own rules, you can't ship a cishet (sanji) with an aroace (zoro), therefore Zosan is now invalid. Stop erasing Zoro's aroace identity bigot.

'Categorically wrong' makes me laugh. I don't ship Zoro and Nami but like, people can ship what they want to??

'The general public is aware enough of gay people and how to spot them these days' uh... firstly this sounds very homophobic. Secondly the general public (cishet ppl) are famously bad at recognising queerness even when its in flashing lights before them. Thirdly you make it sound like Zoro was going around on roller skates and booty shorts listening to YMCA and Madonna in the show. I do agree he was gay-coded but it was mostly because he had sexual tension with every man he interacted with, not for the strange reasons you pointed out...

Its kinda the elephant in the room too but like. These are just headcanons. You can have multiple headcanons and interpretations of a character's sexuality. I can see Zoro as aroace virgin one day and a gay h*e the next. I'm actually allowed, legally, to do that.

The way they think shipping Zolu is harmful to aroace representation when BOTH characters are closest to being canonically aroace than anything yet ship Zosan, label being anti-Zolu as some kind of pro-ace activism, and then proceeded to block aroace people for criticising their incorrect depiction of what being aroace is...

This was a lot of words to say that you don't like a ship. Just say you don't like it, and it gets in the way of the ship you like, instead of writing a virtue signalling essay to justify your reasoning. Please.

They had some more to say on future posts I'll just pick my favourite bits

They really have this narrative that Zolu is only popular because of OPLA and can't fathom that its just a popular ship in general and always has been huh. And they couldn't make it more obvious that they're totally salty about it ranking in the top 100 most popular tumblr ships, lmao.

Your classic case of 'self-identifying ally who speaks over the people they are supposed allies of'. Its a general rule that you feel the need to declare yourself an ally you're probably not an ally, actual allies know they need to just shut up and do the work. Saying 'this character's aroace' and 'I have aroace friends' actually isn't what allyship is, thats just accepting that ace people exist which is like... the baseline.

Calling a wholesome loving ship like Zolu an icky ship is a severe consequence of online brain (this person is 26 years old btw)

[balkanradfem]

Do you ever think about how sad and messed up it is to grow up in this world as a little girl who likes to read. Because you are a child, and you don't get that there's a difference in who writes the books, you read everything you like, you read the adventures and the fantasy and the mysteries and the traumatic stuff and if you're also very isolated and lonely, these books build your worldview. Because why wouldn't they? They're written by humans, so they have the attitudes, opinions, perceptions, morals and spirits of human beings in them, they're telling you what humans think and feel about things, how they go about situations, what they imagine, what they desire. What your role in all this is, or what it could potentially be.

But, since you are not capable of differentiating the material, and you just read what is available to you, you end up reading a lot of books written by m*n. You also have to go thru the required reading at school - 90% written by m*n. And so slowly, since young age, without even socializing or learning it thru interaction, you find yourself in a world shaped by minds who do not have empathy for women, especially not for little girls. You find yourself relating to the male protagonists, but you also find out that girls only play a passive role in their stories. You find that m*n problems are centered, made important, their suffering and violence critical points in the story, while women are cast aside as helpers, servants, givers, caretakers, and generally just exist in the background, not a thought given to what they are going thru.

You learn thru books written by m*n, that your experience is secondary. Even if you cast yourself as the adventuring, immensely important and struggling protagonist, even then the other women in your mind end up being just background characters, caregivers who do not need a thought spared for their suffering.

Books written by m*n, even for children, will trivialize female suffering to the point where they shape the child's mind into one that looks at the world from a male perspective. Where women either don't matter, or are capable only of giving and aiding, to be cast aside for more important matters, such as male aspirations for their own lives.

Thinking back, I understand why I felt myself unimportant and trivial in any social setting - I understood my role from the written word, and I knew adults found me trivial, secondary, only a background figure to someone else's adventure or mission. As much as I could fight it in my fantasies, and make myself the main character, it felt like a pipe dream, like something that was incredible self-indulged and selfish and would never translate to reality.

I wish it had been different. I wish I had been introduced specifically and only to books written by women, for women. I wish I had found empathy for myself in those books. I wish I had found myself standing on high ground, equal ground, with other women, our desires centered, our lives translated into tales of epic importance - because that's what they are. I wish I had been born into a world where female perspective is available from the start, not after years of growing up and finding feminist literature and having to re-write my own role in my brain, from all of those years of reading male perspective as the default.

I don't think any little girl should be exposed to literature that shape her world as a place where she doesn't matter. I don't think books written by males and shaped by their worldview should be allowed into children's literature, or teenage or for young adults. Girls should not be learning from fiction that their most important value is empathy and understanding for male problems, and their second, to be desired and/or helpful to them, all while being treated as nothing but service and background noise until you're desired for something. We need to open books and find out that we matter too. That our lives can be the center of our existence, rather than being in the service of someone else's life.

[miss-anachronism]

for requests. i need. valen x male magister merlin. im a sucker for this guy. anything really. thank you!

Ooh, I’ve never read an x reader/MC fic, let alone written one! New territory, as exciting as it is scary.

I’m not so sure I have a good grip on Valen’s character, but I tried to write it from his perspective. I hope this suits your needs! It gets a bit philosophical. And sorry if its OOC :,)

He isn’t sure what to think, really.

They’re sitting around a dying campfire, just outside the borders of the Dark Forest. Lorsan is pacing somewhere in the distance, muttering to himself, or to the wind, maybe. Trying to figure out what’s happened to his home. Korin leans against a tree, tending to his wounds- courtesy of Merlin. The magister himself is across from Valen, wrapping his own wound and chattering with his hamsters.

Logically, Valen knows that the lesson he should have taken from this scramble is a lot more profound than what’s been on his mind. He should be contemplating the Wilders, the forest, their next steps, how to protect the refugees. And he’s trying to, but it’s just that something- someone- keeps catching his attention.

He didn’t know Merlin could bleed.

It’s such a silly observation. But as Valen watches the angry red wound on Merlin’s forearm, his gut twists. It’s like seeing a god’s flesh tear, and seeing that its blood is the same bright red as his own.

Valen isn’t sure what exactly Merlin is. As far as he knows, no one does, not even Merlin himself. But to the average young Lightbearer, he’s a myth. A legendary figure that you might glimpse once in your life, but would never get to meet. Never speak with, let alone camp alongside. Fight alongside. Merlin throws his head back to laugh at something Chippy has said, and something stirs in Valen’s ribs, something he knows is dangerous.

All of this is dangerous. Merlin is not someone to be loved; Valen has seen what happened to Mirael. Forgotten about, left in the dust, accidentally as it was. The way she watches Merlin, her face made of mixed admiration, bitterness, and regret. He wonders if she would take it all back, if she could. Scariest of all, when she bid them farewell, the look in her eyes sent an ugly pain of jealousy through Valen’s chest. And he doesn’t want that to happen to him, selfish as that may be. Every time Merlin falls asleep, he risks waking up knowing nothing.

Besides, what is Valen to a hero of myth? His whole life has been barely a blink in Merlin’s. Whatever he is, there is no reasonable way Valen could ever mean something to Merlin the way that Merlin is beginning to mean something to him. Merlin will outlive him a thousand times over. And he’s probably met a thousand different people, fallen in love with quite a few of them. Someone who has experienced so much life, so much loss, can they still love? Could they ever?

And yet, he bleeds. It’s such a human weakness that it seems impossible. Valen knew heroes could bleed; he didn’t know gods could. Merlin does not go about the world serene and calculating, watching every moment with practiced ease. He stumbles, laughs, misses with his spells. He jostles Valen’s pauldron excitedly when they win a fight, he’s the last to flee when they lose, ensuring everyone else has disengaged safely. He has only one dimple, on his left cheek. Sometimes he speaks so fast his words blend together, and Hammie has to remind him to slow down. It’s endearing. It’s human. Valen doesn’t know what to do with it. Because it was so much easier, to write off affection as admiration. When the pieces had first clicked, he thought it all made sense. The natural pull that the magister gave off- yes, of course, it was just Merlin’s nature. But they’re a week into this camaraderie, and Valen keeps noticing things like the lick of hair on his neck that doesn’t sit flat.

Pretty fucking annoying, that’s what it is. Valen’s always prouded himself on his ability to swerve out of love’s path. He can flirt and charm all he wants, but at the end of the day all the love letters he receives are ink and paper, nothing more. Whenever someone seriously reciprocates- god forbid- he disengages as smoothly as he can, lest they get the wrong impression.

But Merlin has changed all that, somehow. Impossibly so. He supposes it’s in his nature, to take everything and turn it upside down. Valen doesn’t want to flirt with the Magister, to laugh as he flushes under his praise. Well, it would be nice, he always has liked the attention; but the thing is, that isn’t the point. With Merlin, he just wants to be. No performance, no elaborate courtship. Just… be. Together. All this, for someone who is more myth than man.

It seems like the scariest thing he’s ever faced.

“Valen?”

He jumps as the magister suddenly speaks, and realizes with mounting embarrassment that he’s been staring the whole time. Luckily, the magister grins good-naturedly- and ah, there’s that dimple again.

“Lost in thought?”

“You could say that.”

He leans back on his hands and forces his face into a smirk. It’s easier than he anticipated; despite everything, Merlin makes it simple to be around him.

“I’ve been meaning to say,” Merlin mirrors his position as Chippy and Hammie scuttle away, the former setting off on a quest to climb the nearest tree, “I really appreciate your help in all of this. Coming along, and aiding me- far past your assigned duties. It isn’t lost to me.”

Valen gives him a look. “Of course, magister. I’m not one to leave danger to fester; I’m sorry you ever had that impression of me.”

“No, it’s not that, it’s…” Merlin’s brow furrows as he collects his thoughts. “You know, you seem so… charmingly nonchalant. Like nothing bothers you. But that clearly isn’t true. You care a lot, Valen, and it’s really, really nice to see. You’re someone who is just… good, you know? And I appreciate it.” He grins sheepishly. “Sorry. Kinda cheesy compliment. I’ve lost all my memories, you know, but being around you- and Lorsan, Cassadee, Mirael- honestly, I don’t feel like I’m missing much of anything. Everything I need is right here.”

He shrugs and turns back to the fire, as if he has not sent Valen’s mind reeling. Functionally, Merlin has been aware for only a week- one week out of thousands of years. He’s wondered how he’s been so calm about the whole thing, and…

And it’s hard to believe, but it’s much harder to doubt what Merlin says, not as he stares into the fire with that soft smile. It dawns on Valen that he probably knows more about Merlin than Merlin does- all of the legends, at least. And yet, despite that insurmountable legacy, despite the name and title that bears unimaginable weight, Merlin is… content. Content in just moving forward, and hoping he’s doing the right thing.

And isn’t that all that Valen’s doing, as well? He doesn’t deserve all this praise; he always shies away from large displays of gratitude, loathing how awkward they make him feel. Because he’s just moving forward, and trying to do the right thing. It’s a simple motive, really. Faith, and what effort it takes to retain it. He always thought Merlin would have some deeper, existential knowledge of the world that would put all else to shame- access to the secrets of the universe, and what not. And, certainly, his magical capabilities are second to none- but his philosophy, the way he lives; it very well might be human after all.

Maybe the usual Merlin, the one with all his memories, is the knowledgeable, immovable sage that Valen grew to look up to. Maybe, once restored, Merlin will become that god-like fairytale hero, wisdom surpassing all others, power knowing no ends.

Selfishly, Valen hopes that never happens. That the Merlin in front of him stays the same, annoying dimple and all, and keeps looking at Valen like that. Like he sees something in him that Valen never knew was there. He hopes Merlin never raises above their quips, their banter.

He know’s it’s all in vain. But god, he hopes.