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fioiswriting · 10 months ago

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The sea and the fire

“Fire and water looked so lovely together. It was a pity they destroyed each other by nature.” - R.F Kuang

Rating : will be explicit 18+ later, MDNI Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, Cregan Stark x Reader later TW : mention of blood, mention of murder. TW will be added as the story progresses. Words count : 4361 AN : Hello everyone! I'm back from the deads hehe. Sorry, I've been busy with a lot of things lately, I've had a couple of exams and I'm also in the process of writing my (second) master's thesis. Sooo anyway, I've written the first chapter of my new fanfic. Yes, it is YET ANOTHER story that involves niece!reader x Aemond and it is adapted from an RP with my girlfriend. If you're tired of this trope, if you're uncomfortable with this dynamic, I suggest you find another fanfic (there are plenty of masterpieces on tumblr anyway!! 💕). It's been on my mind for a long time, and I finally found the time to finish this first chapter. I don't know yet how many chapters there will be or how often I'll post, but I hope you like it! 💕 As always, be nice, I know there are probably some inconsistencies, but we're here to have fun, right? (BTW, I've been bingewatching Vikings and I know the fandom is kinda dead, but I want to write some x readers now)

Also, English is not my first (nor second) language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes!!

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 1 : Silk Street

War of heart - Ruelle 🎶

The streets of King's Landing had the peculiar quality of being both enticing and repelling; like a unique, curious spectacle that you discovered with every hesitant step you took. The smell of fresh fish mingled with that of fire and sewers, tickling your nose with unfamiliar smells. It was new to you, these smells, these sounds too; the hammering of the blacksmith's tools on the metal, the shouts of the merchants, the rolling of the cartwheels on the cobblestones of the winding streets. It was different from what you were used to; the steady rocking of the waves, the calm of the rain, the ups and downs of the tides. The only turbulence in your daily life were the storms you were so fond of, and the thunder, the lightning, the wind that shook the stones and lifted the waves had an untameable yet terribly soothing aspect.

Unlike King's Landing.

If it wasn't the natural elements that threatened to unleash their wrath here in King's Landing, it was the unpredictability of the people in the streets, the danger lurking around every corner, the risk of disappearing forever into the shadows of a forgotten alley.

Apart from the hustle and bustle of the forbidden streets you were discovering for the first time after so many years - and the adrenaline rush of breaking the restriction on venturing there - King's Landing was, objectively speaking, a deadly bore.

But it was still less boring than going round in circles in the castle.

You knew it was the dream of every lady in the Seven Kingdoms to live within the walls of the Red Keep, for it had been yours for a long time. Back when you lived in your childhood bedroom - the one on the second floor - you had no trouble imagining yourself spending your life in the gardens of the Red Keep, with your husband, enjoying the strawberry cakes and the books in the great library.

After all, you and Aemond were inseparable.

But in the meantime, fate had decided otherwise, and the mild climate of King's Landing, where you were born, where you celebrated your first words and your first steps, had been replaced by the vagaries of Dragonstone's weather. It was the sea, the storm and the rain that raised you, and it was with your feet in the water, on the shingle, that you grew up.

Living in King's Landing now was different from anything you'd ever imagined before.

King's Landing tasted bland. Boring.

Your mother had promised that the stay would be temporary, a few weeks at most, just to settle some business with Alicent and Viserys - your grandfather. The aim was to find a way to keep the peace between your families, but you weren't an idiot. You knew that the rift between your families was growing wider and wider.

And that one of the only ways to prevent a total, irreparable rupture was a promise of marriage.

Then again, wasn't it your duty to be sold into marriage, to strengthen the bonds, to carry the family's shaky balance on your shoulders?

You already missed Dragonstone. You missed the sea. You missed walking on cold water.

King's Landing was like a golden prison you couldn't leave because everything around it was too dangerous.

And you were bored. You had been reading. You had been embroidering. You had wandered far and wide through the gardens. You'd listened kindly and attentively to Helaena talk about her insects, and you'd spent several afternoons sharing court gossip with Baela and Rhaena.

You spent much of your time avoiding your uncle. Or watching him from afar.

For he had changed terribly; for better or worse, you weren't sure. You only kept the memories of your shared childhood, somewhere in your heart, like a buried secret, like a triple-locked treasure you'd sworn never to open again.

The memories were painful. They created a lump in your throat, they kept you awake at night, they made your tears flow.

And that was why you locked them away and threw away the key that kept them locked.

You decided you weren't that child anymore - you stopped being that child when you went your separate ways, when you went back to Dragonstone and he stayed here. Now he wasn't the little boy you left either: he had become this cold, tall, ruthless young man. He had that cunning little smile, that air of self-assurance he wore with his head held high and his chin up.

Boredom drove you to follow Aegon into the city. He suggested it and suddenly all sense of reason left your body. Weren't you the most reasonable of your siblings, the most prudent, the most intelligent? An inexplicable feeling had urged you to accept, like two hands behind your back pushing you towards him, like a voice in your head encouraging you to abandon your model daughter's appearance: the call of transgression. Curiosity. The desire to be bold. The danger. For once you were making a decision, your own decision, without your parents or brothers knowing. You were the master of your actions, and in a way, it was an act of rebellion that gave you a feeling of freedom, that awakened a sense of excitement in you.

Ser Erryk protested, of course, when he realised your little ploy, but you had already vanished before he could stop you. You laughed as you followed Aegon, his mischievous smile at the corner of his lips as he led you through the secret passage that allowed you to sneak out of the castle, your hand in the crook of his elbow so as not to lose you.

And everything went well. You enjoyed your newfound freedom with a mixture of curiosity and fear, your body pressed against your uncle's, the hood pulled down over your forehead. You had the advantage of dark hair - the opposite of the Targaryens' emblematic features. It attracted less attention, you knew it. But your curious gaze, your round eyes that discovered the ordinary life of the lowborn must have intrigued the most observant ones, for Aegon nudged you in the ribs when he caught you looking a little too intently at the work of a craftsman.

"You make a poor peasant," he whispered in your ear. "Well... You're obviously too pretty to be a peasant, that's for sure. But try to be more discreet." He paused. "Those men are looking at you like hungry dogs" he lowered his voice. You rolled your eyes and patted him on the shoulder.

To tell the truth, you weren't comfortable with all those men giving you lecherous looks, but Aegon's presence was reassuring.

He showed you the shortcuts he knew, the secrets, the curiosities of the city, and he talked to you. You wondered if he, too, had changed. You wondered if he'd gone from that stupid, mocking, annoying child to a secretly vulnerable, secretly lonely young adult. You knew about his bad habits; alcohol and sex, but this secret escapade showed you a side of him you didn't know. When had he become nice?

"Wait for me," he said as you looked around. The streets had changed, they had become busier, and suddenly you realised that you were frightened. "I'll be quick. Don't move and keep this on your head."

You wanted to protest, to hold him back, but your uncle had already slipped away.

You were all alone in the Silk of Street.

Your heartbeat quickened. You weren't sure you'd find your way back, and Aegon had ordered you to stay there, not to move, not to talk to anyone. Fuck.

Fuck.

Had he done it on purpose? Was it a plan he'd been hatching all along, a bad joke he'd decided to play on his niece, on Rhaenyra's only daughter? Was he still the mean boy who bullied his little brother? Or did he actually have a real reason for leaving you there, all alone, in the street where brothels piled up and nobles went to satisfy their needs?

You were angry at yourself for trusting him. You blamed yourself for being so naive. You couldn't believe he'd really set a trap for you, not after the complicity you'd shared just before.

Or maybe he was just being Aegon; irresponsible and immature, oblivious to danger, and so stupid as to think that waiting for him here was a good idea.

You sighed. Tears tickled the corners of your eyes with fear, but you tried to chase them away, to swallow them down, to calm your racing heart. The last thing you needed was to draw attention to yourself.

But there were these men all around you, looking at you as if they were ready to pounce. Was this how you would end up, abducted, and sold into a cheap brothel? Murdered after serving the needs of a few old men? You shuddered at the thought.

The voices around you mingled with the tumult, blurred images drawing unidentified shapes before your eyes, and you took a deep breath to try and calm yourself, rubbing your sweaty palms against the fabric of your cloak.

"So? What do you say, girl?"

A hand on your waist.

You weren't sure you understood what the man in front of you was saying. The words were bouncing around in your head without you being able to make them out, but his hungry smile was enough to reveal their nature. You froze. He was joined by another man, and you took a step back, then a second. It was as if your body refused to obey you, as if your brain stopped working, and you hated yourself for it.

You hated yourself for being so weak.

You had a dragon. You were a Targaryen. So why were you trembling? Why couldn't you gather your courage and run, gather your courage and plunge your dagger into someone's chest, fight and scream?

One of them, the older-looking one, closed his hand around your wrist.

"Let me go!" You screamed, but the words caught in your throat, escaping your lips like a distorted cry. "Go away!"

Simple commands that couldn't get through the space between your lips with the authority you wanted.

You closed your eyes, trying to resist.

Fuck. You were going to die. You were going to be raped and then you were going to die, or be sold into sex work, or -

Something splashed in your face and suddenly you felt free.

"Didn't you hear her? She said let me go," a hoarse voice growled.

Your blood ran cold.

You knew exactly who it was.

That calm but sharp tone belonged to only one person: Aemond Targaryen.

How had he found you? Why had he found you? You opened your eyes instantly, your cheeks still red with shame. You knew you'd been irresponsible, and that wasn't in your nature at all, quite the opposite. But the fact that Aemond had caught you in such a weak position bothered and annoyed you.

It was supposed to be your secret, your act of rebellious transgression, your forbidden escapade with Aegon. It wasn't supposed to be like this.

It wasn't supposed to be Aemond rescuing you.

You opened your eyes. Facing you, the older man was kneeling on the pavement. He was clutching at his right side, blood trickling through his fingers to the ground. He was suffocating, blood pouring from his lips, but Aemond wiped the blade of his sword with a satisfied smile.

The crowd had gathered to watch what was happening, a mixture of fear and curiosity on their faces, but Aemond was already hastening to chase them away in a tone that left no room for discussion:

"There's nothing to see," he thundered. "Go away. All of you. Or I'll serve you as food for Vhagar."

The crowd dispersed, frightened; women grabbing their children by the shoulders to force them to move, barefoot beggars hurrying to gather their bowl and few coins to find another place, prostitutes closing the curtains with an irritated sigh, old men almost stumbling, and soon the street was deserted.

Despite the hood that covered his face, you could see the flat line of his grin and the cold, accusing look with which he stared at you. He was furious.

Perhaps he expected you to thank him, for Aemond approached you without a word. You looked up at him, your cheeks still red with shame. You were too proud to thank him.

And you were still too angry, too.

Angry at his silence all these years, angry that he'd let you down when you'd stood up for him, angry at the man he'd become.

"Are you coming or not?" he asked in his icy voice, his hand already closing around your wrist to force you forward, but you didn't move.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, frowning. You'd suddenly regained your repartee.

You knew you had to calm things down, thank him and follow him in silence. Accept the humiliation and beg for his silence. You knew you were making things more difficult than they already were, but that was Aemond. And once again, in front of Aemond, you had a pride to uphold.

"What am I doing here?" he repeated, his voice sharp. He froze, his dark eyes glaring at you as if you'd just insulted him. Suddenly you felt so small in front of him. "I should be asking you that question," he added dryly, obviously trying to keep the tone of his voice under control. "You're even more stupid than I thought."

The sentence had the effect of a slap in the face, and you felt your cheeks burning. Like a little girl caught red-handed, you lowered your head. What had been going through your mind? Why had you decided to follow Aegon in the first place?

Aemond lifted you with ease and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, as if he wanted to be sure you would follow him, as if he feared you would escape again, as if he didn't trust you.

And in the end, perhaps he was right.

As he carried you to the Red Keep, your fists pounded on his back. Small blows that he ignored, painless on the width that was his back.

He seemed to ignore you, perhaps more annoyed that you wouldn't stay still than anything else. But you didn't need him to play the perfect knight, not when he'd been ignoring you all this time. Not when he'd barely spoken to you on your return to King's Landing. Not when he drew a line under your childhood as if nothing had happened.

Not when he kept harassing your brothers.

It irritated you. He played the role of the ideal husband-to-be, impassive and calm; as if he'd always been the knight in shining armour he never was.

"You could at least let me go," you sighed, seeing that nothing seemed to disturb your uncle's icy calm. "I know how to walk. "

He had a moment's hesitation where he stopped, and then you felt him readjust your position with a flick of his shoulder. You had no trouble imagining the corners of his lips curling upwards, painting his face with his usual insolent grin, you had no trouble imagining him chuckling at your condition.

"Stop it, you are only making it harder for us," he growled in an authoritative voice. "And if you are not happy, I can always leave you here." He paused. "I did not know you dreamed of working in a brothel."

The comment was enough to send another wave of heat up your cheeks, colouring them red, but you tried as best you could to keep your composure, as if not to betray your embarrassment in front of the prince.

You refused to show him that his remark had affected you.

You just gritted your teeth and sighed.

The position was becoming uncomfortable: Aemond's bony shoulder was digging into your stomach and your legs were going numb, as if thousands of little ants were crawling all over them.

You hoped no one would see you when you got back to the castle. Your excursion into the city was supposed to be discreet; you weren't supposed to come back with a blood-stained tunic, nor hanging over your one-eyed uncle's shoulders.

If Aemond knew anything about the impending official announcement of your betrothal, he said nothing, walking ahead of him as if you were as light as a sack of grain.

"Qybor." You whispered again, this time using High Valyrian. Uncle. You hoped the nickname would make him react. "Qybor," you repeated a little louder. "I can walk by myself now."

If the nickname had any effect on him, Aemond didn't show it. But you had no trouble imagining the stupefaction you would have read on his face had you been face to face with him. You were proud of your skills in High Valyrian: you learned faster than Jace, faster than Luke, but then again, you'd always loved books and history, languages and learning. Aemond would probably remember that, it was what brought you together as a child in the first place.

You could see the tall towers of the Red Keep in front of you, their red bricks standing out against the blue sky. From a distance, you could understand the fascination of the people. There was something great, something sumptuous about the sight of this building, and you understood why it had taken three reigns to build it.

But despite your pleas, Aemond had not moved an eye. You knew that if your uncle hadn't intervened, you would probably have ended up in a dark alley, or in a filthy brothel, used as a plaything by a bunch of drunken lords, or in the dirty hands of ill-intentioned men. The thought made a lump grow in your throat that you found hard to swallow.

You were definitely naive and stupid for agreeing to follow Aegon like that.

Still, you hadn't bothered to thank Aemond.

You had too much pride to thank him, a flaw you'd inherited from your family.

You were stubborn, never satisfied, and always had something to say.

But Aemond, it seemed, had as much - if not more - pride than you.

Your engagement promised to be surprising.

"I am serious, Aemond," you added. It felt strange to call him by his first name when you hadn't addressed him that way for years. "I am a..." strong woman, you wanted to reply, but you chose another word instead, not wanting to give him the occasion to mock you: "independent woman".

As you approached the entrance - you prayed Aemond would choose one of the secret passages, you couldn't bear the humiliation of being carried off like a piece of merchandise by your presumed future husband - he stopped and set you down. His single eye searched your face, as if looking for the slightest trace of gratitude, but he knew he wouldn't find any; he knew it would have been too easy, and he knew it wouldn't have been you.

You weren't easy.

Pulling your arm to make you walk faster, Aemond forced you to follow him, around the ramparts, glancing around to make sure no one was following you. He pulled a little harder. "Mandianna," he began, his husky voice vibrating, the tone sending a wave of heat through your lower belly.

There was something incredibly pleasing about hearing the intonations of High Valyrian roll off your uncle's tongue.

But that was Aemond. And it was out of the question for you to feel anything for Aemond.

Around the bend in the ramparts, out of sight, he slammed you against the wall, both hands pressed firmly against your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing. "What exactly did you think would happen when you went to Silk Street, tell me?"

You knew what he was thinking. That you were irresponsible. That your actions were unworthy of someone of your station, and even more so if you were to be his future betrothed. That he wondered if your time on Dragonstone had made you reckless and wild, that he wondered if he might need to teach you some manners before he could marry you.

His judging gaze swept you from head to toe. As if to say that though your father's legitimacy was often questioned, Aemond knew that you were indeed Rhaenyra's daughter.

You avoided his gaze, your eyes fixed on a point beside his face. You wanted to say something witty, but the young prince had robbed you of any chance of intelligent thought, and you hated this feeling.

"I didn't think you'd come looking for me, Qybor," you replied with a grin as you looked up at him. "I thought you were a busy man."

You felt his fingers tighten on your shoulders, his nails digging into the fabric of your cloak and tunic underneath. Your behaviour was childish, like a petulant brat, but secretly you enjoyed seeing Aemond lose his temper. You liked to push him to his limits. You liked to see the subtle signs of his irritation; the moment when he clenched his jaw, when he straightened his neck, when his breathing quickened.

If you were to marry him, then you would be poison, ready to corrupt his soul.

He grabbed the collar of your linen tunic and pushed you a little harder against the wall. "I thought you were smarter than to follow my brother into the city." His body rigid against yours kept you pinned to the wall.

The expression on his face betrayed his inner conflict: part of him thinking that he shouldn't care about his niece's actions, about you. Part of him reminding that you were soon to be betrothed.

And you knew that the thought of other men putting their hands on you, on his bride's body was lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy.

Possessiveness.

Aemond was a man driven by duty. On this level, you were the same; the model son and model daughter of your respective families, charged with performing your duties to prevent the gulf that separated your families from widening.

Both the eternal seconds of your families.

Both the pride of your mothers.

Suddenly he released you. His hand found your wrist again and he pulled you through the corridors of the castle. Had anyone caught you now, your hood pulled down over your forehead, your clothes hiding your appearance, they would probably have frowned and wondered if Aemond had suddenly decided to follow in his brother's footsteps, his taste for debauchery, by bringing a common girl or a cheap prostitute into his chamber.

For at that moment, you did not look like the daughter of royal blood that you were, not with your simple linen clothes, not with the thick cloak that covered your body, not with your hair tied up carelessly. You looked like a servant girl, a smallfolk girl, not like the Pearl of Dragonstone that you truly were.

Aemond's fingers burned around your wrist. You wondered if he felt it, too. If you were causing the same effect in him.

But he was impassive, always so difficult to read. He hid his feelings, buried them under a cold, mysterious shell, as if to protect himself.

He stopped in front of the door that led to your bedroom. Fortunately, the corridor was deserted. You didn't have the courage to face your parents' disappointed looks, you didn't have the courage to realise that you had betrayed their trust, even if, for a moment, you had forgotten your duty, you had forgotten the responsibilities that weighed on your shoulders, you had tasted a feeling of freedom, so new, so delicious. A foolish act of transgression.

But you were safe and sound, and that was the most important thing.

"You'd better get changed," Aemond suggested. "It would be better if my mother didn't see you like this."

He clenched his jaw. He looked concentrated, as if he wanted to add something, as if he wanted to reprimand you but had to force himself to remain silent. An instant of silence hung between you. The urge to ask him if he was going to report your little escapade burned on the tip of your tongue, but you thought better of it.

Aemond's single eye was riveted to you. Piercingly. Fierce.

For a brief moment, a very brief moment, your uncle's ragged breathing caressed your face and your heart raced.

He was so close.

"Why? Don't you like to see me dressed like a common girl, my prince?" you asked, teasingly. Like a common girl you could bend over in some dark and gloomy street, you thought. But Aemond was not Aegon, and you felt him hesitate, as if the words had taken him by surprise. His hand, about to find your jaw and make you swallow your insolence, had stopped halfway.

You smirk. Aemond had nothing to worry about. For the official announcement of your betrothal, you had planned to wear a dress that would honour your Velaryon origins.

"Rest assured, qybor," you continued, taking a step in his direction.

Poison in his soul, you repeated in your head. That's what you'd be to your uncle. You took the time observe him, as if studying him, as if imagining the effect the words you were about to say would have on your uncle. Your eyes sparkled with mischief, and perhaps with something else. "Your betrothed is still intact for her wedding night," you finally whispered in his ear.

He held his breath. You knew that you would break down, brick by brick, the barriers he'd spent years building around his heart.

You wanted him raw.

But before you turned on your heel to enter your chamber, you summoned all the courage you had left in your body and stood on tiptoe to plant a kiss on the prince's jaw.

"Thank you for coming to my rescue, my prince."

And then, you were gone.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #Aemond Targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x niece!reader #aemond targaryen fanfic

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ask-whitepearl-and-steven · 2 years ago

Note

would you have any small writing tips to share with others who are attempting to write their own stories?

Sure.

Disclaimer: This is not a full on tutorial on how to write. These are just tiny, tiny little grains of wisdom of things I realized here and there. Do not eat this advice like a full course meal. It isn't one. It's just a dusting of some spices, and I am salt bae-ing them over you, but they are not calorically relevant without a story.

1. Help your readers read your story.

AKA: If you want your readers to build a house, you better take them to a Home Depot and teach them how to use a screwdriver first.

You want your readers to read your story easily? You gotta make your story easy to read. That means learning how to make sentences easier to understand. That means breaking up walls of text into smaller bites. That means - yes - spelling words consistently and using accessible (not Correct, necessarily, but ACCESSIBLE) grammar!

You want your readers to understand your world? You gotta give your readers tools to understand it with. That means explaining new concepts! That means describing stuff a lot! That means using visual language if you don't have actual visuals!

Your readers will not read your mind to know what you MEANT to say. You have to say what you mean. You have to mean what you write. Learn to write clearly. Learn to help your readers.

2. Something that takes you a month to make will take your audience ten minutes to read.

You want to spend an hour drawing one comic panel? Great. You wanna spend an hour writing a single paragraph? Fantastic. You wanna use up a week perfecting a script? Amazing!

Your readers will still glance at that panel for a second before moving on. Your readers will still eat that paragraph in a bite. Your readers will skim that script. If you're lucky.

You cannot control how much your work is appreciated. But you CAN control how much of your time you sacrifice to make it.

Balance the scales.

3. You are not talented.

Neither am I. Nor are any of us.

Listen to me. Listen.

Talent is a beautiful, useful word. But it often lies to us. It suggests that we are born better than others.

This is not often accurate. What talent hides within itself is not pre-ordained inherent skill. It is not something you are birthed being. It is not a statistical difference of physicality.

Talent starts with passion.

Maybe you have passion for stories - so you beg your grandfather to read to you before you can recognize words, and you write a lot in every school assignment, and you pay attention to EVERY story you watch in school plays, and you observe all the characters you see in movies, and you CARE. So. Much. And this moves you to try to write, and then to try again, and then to try harder.

Talent does not exist, because no amount of 'you were made for running' can make you run. No amount of 'you were the son of great authors' can make you write.

But inherent curiosity can push you forward. Inherent curiosity can make you watch, and observe, even before you understand you are observing. Inherent curiosity for your personal interests makes you a fan of writing, of drawing, of world-building. It makes you research how to be a great author before you even know what research is. It auto-tunes you to what you know is good about these things, and it gives you the necessary tools to know what will work and what won't.

So when you think you are talented, understand that this is not something that was done to you in the womb. It was something you raised, and watered like a seed, before you even knew what you were growing.

Don't rely on talent. Understand that you got this far because you CARE about this thing. And don't forget to care. Because that's what has carried you this far, and it is the only thing that can carry you even farther.

also, cringe is dead.

#chekhov answers

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neo-my-geo · 1 year ago

Text

Hey gang, it’s your old pal Neo here. If you know me, it’s probably from one of the several very stupid TF2 comics I’ve posted to Tumblr.

However! I am also an English major (unfortunately). One who has read millions of words worth of fanfiction in their life. I have been part of the Sherlock, BNHA, Disco Elysium, and, of course, TF2 fandoms; I’ve been around the block.

The further I’ve progressed into my English education, the more I’ve noticed which mistakes are the most common in fanfiction. Many of them are easily fixable; writers just need to be pointed in the right direction.

“Neo! Does this mean you think people shouldn’t be allowed to post their works online without a background in formal English education?”

Of course not! I can explain why if you’d care to venture below the cut with me!

Yes, I will explain how to use commas.

It’s important to note that this is NOT a post about formal writing. You aren’t writing an essay. Please, for the love of god, do not write fiction like you’re writing an essay.

There are no stakes to writing fanfic. No one is going to get hurt if an author doesn’t know what a dangling participle is. One of my favourite things about fanfiction is that it’s one of the only art forms left that’s done exclusively for fun! You should write what you enjoy, and share what you make with like-minded people.

What I want to do is provide assistance as best I can to writers who want to improve their fundamentals without having to take the same university courses I did. Nobody is going to be getting a formal education to write fanfiction unless they’re ridiculously dedicated, and I’m not expecting that of anyone.

The point I need to stress is that knowing these grammar fundamentals can instantly improve the flow of your writing. Punctuation is a ridiculously important tool for writers, ESPECIALLY in fiction. Commas, semicolons, and full stops (including periods, exclamation points, and question marks) steer the pacing in the reader’s mind; did you notice how your brain stopped for a second after that semicolon? I can show you how to do that.

You may be wondering why I’m going through so much effort to teach all of this to strangers on the internet. The answer is that I enjoy sharing this knowledge with others and helping them grow. By seeing this, my goal is to help you become more proficient at self-editing. Showing this to people who actually want to learn will, hopefully, benefit the community as a whole, and I think that’s very worth it.

Also, while this post is obviously themed around TF2, the points I’m making can be applied to any fiction. Grammar is for everyone, and the church of the semicolon always has room for more initiates.

Also also, as an edit, I should clarify that this is meant to cover the more objective facets of self-editing, which is why I'm mostly covering punctuation. Maybe I'll do another post about using adjectives someday.

With that out of the way, let’s get going!

I’ve teamed up with several English teachers (real ones! One of which may or may not be my mom!) and an editor to gather a list of the most common problems we see in amateur fiction. This post is going to be split into three broad sections: apostrophes, commas/semicolons, and other common problems.

The apostrophe

This section is short, but it holds weight. Other than commas, apostrophes are the most typoed grammatical tool in any fanfiction I’ve edited. This is because, much like the rest of English, the rules surrounding them can be annoying and inconsistent.

Apostrophes have two main uses: possessives and conjunctions.

A possessive is a word that denotes the ownership of one thing over another. The vast majority of the time, this is done using an apostrophe and an S.

There is, however, one glaring exception to this rule, and it’s the bane of my existence.

When denoting possession of an object over something else while using the pronoun ‘it,’ you do NOT add an apostrophe before the S.

A conjunction, on the other hand, is when a writer uses an apostrophe to combine two words. The following are examples of common conjunctions:

What’s (what is)

They’re (they are)

It’s (it is)

Conjunctions are not often used in formal writing. Thankfully, we aren’t dealing in formal writing. Go crazy.

Time for a lightning round of the most commonly mistaken for each other possessives and conjunctions!

Your is possessive. You’re is a conjunction of ‘you’ and ‘are.’ When you can’t decide which one to use, imagine replacing it with ‘you are’ and seeing if it makes sense. If it doesn’t, use your.

Their is possessive. There indicates a location. They’re is a conjunction of ‘they’ and ‘are.’

The comma and the semicolon

You knew it was coming. I knew it was coming. It’s time to talk about commas.

Commas and semicolons are far and away the biggest grammatical hole in the toolset of fanfiction writers everywhere. They’re often treated like the rules surrounding them are complicated and difficult to understand, but the exact opposite is true!

The big issue I’ve heard time and time again is that the rules of commas are often explained through metaphor instead of example; this means that writers everywhere have slightly different ideas of how you’re supposed to use them. The fact of the matter is that, yes, there are correct and incorrect ways to use commas. Knowing when they’re appropriate and when they aren’t is easily the fastest way to bring your writing from looking amateurish to sounding professional and experienced.

In order to know how to use a comma, you must first understand the difference between a dependent and an independent clause.

An independent clause is a section of writing that functions perfectly well as its own sentence. It MUST have both a subject and an action/verb.

A sentence without an independent clause is known as a fragment, and they’re the bane of English teachers with highlighters everywhere.

A dependent clause is a section of writing that does not have both a subject and an action; it does not function as its own sentence.

Now, let’s say you want to combine the two. When joining a dependent clause to an independent clause, the order in which they are placed is crucial to whether you use a comma or not.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the independent clause first, you do not need to use a comma.

When joining a dependent to an independent with the dependent clause first, you MUST use a comma.

Keep in mind that, if one strives for total grammatical perfection, all narrative sentences MUST have an independent clause. This, however, does not apply to dialogue. Human beings do not think about whether what they’re saying is a dependent clause, and neither would the vast majority of fictional characters. Don’t be afraid to break the rules of grammar as long as it’s contained within quotation marks.

Alright, that’s the easy part. Time to learn about joining two independent clauses. It’s semicolon time, baby!

If you join two independent clauses without properly using a comma or a semicolon, it is a run-on sentence. You do not want these in your writing. They’re awkward to read and mess up the flow.

When joining two independent clauses, you can use EITHER a comma or a semicolon. You just need to follow these rules:

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a comma, you MUST use a joining word (and, but, so, etc.) AFTER the comma.

If you’re joining two independent clauses with a semicolon, you do NOT need to use a joining word.

Did you know that a sentence with a comma counts as its own independent clause? This means that you can make a sentence that includes a mix of both without it being a run-on! Just make sure that, no matter what, the semicolon is between two independent clauses.

Still, try not to write more than two clauses in a sentence too often. Sentences with a lot of punctuation are very attention-grabbing, but shouldn’t be overused. Full stops aren’t your enemy and variety is the spice of life.

It’s also important to remember that you should avoid using more than one comma in a clause (with the exception of the rule below). That part loops back to the 'avoiding run-ons' bit.

It’s really that easy!

Commas are also used in informal writing to inject a separate thought or descriptor mid-sentence without breaking the flow by adding a period. This is often used when describing the perspective of a character experiencing something in a story, but not (usually) when using omniscient perspectives.

The final issue I frequently see with commas in fanfiction is in regards to dialogue. Sometimes you end it with them, and sometimes you don’t. What gives?

Well, my friend, the answer is, thankfully, much simpler than the previous section.

When following dialogue with a dialogue tag, use a comma instead of a full stop. If you’re continuing the previous sentence after the tag, use a comma after it as well.

Note that a dialogue tag is a short phrase that identifies the speaker. It isn’t a complete sentence on its own.

When following dialogue with an action that does not serve as a dialogue tag, use a full stop instead of a comma.

Other common problems

This section is dedicated to putting specific grammatical errors into words, along with how to solve them.

Not sticking to the chosen point of view

Always choose your point of view before you start. Is it in the first, second, or third person? Is it omniscient or limited? Does the point of view switch during the story?

First person perspective is told as if the POV character is directly describing their experience to the reader. The character uses I and we to describe their own actions.

Second person perspective is told as if the reader is a character in the story and their actions are being described to them. This is the rarest, and the most difficult to write.

Third person perspective is the most common and the simplest to write. The events of the story are a separate entity from the reader altogether and the narrator uses they/he/she/it pronouns for characters.

Omniscient perspective means the narrator of the story knows all, including the thoughts and feelings of each character.

Limited perspective means the narrator of the story only knows what the POV character knows.

Past and present tense

When you decide between writing a story in past or present tense, it is crucial that you do not switch between them unless it is narratively intentional. Reading a past tense story that mistakenly switches to the present tense is like being pulled out of the room someone is telling a story in and suddenly taking part in it yourself. It’s disorienting and gives the reader unwanted pause.

Overly-long paragraphs

A common adage spread by English teachers is that most paragraphs should be at least eight sentences long. This is great advice for beginner essays. You’re writing fiction.

If you have a new thought, start a new paragraph! A concise and well-read single-sentence paragraph is infinitely better than one that drags a thought for too long. Aim to have a blend of paragraph lengths when you write, alternating between the descriptive and the punctual.

Dangling participles

A dangling participle is when a word is used to describe a noun that isn’t actually present in the sentence. Much like how a sentence without an action isn’t grammatically correct, neither is a sentence without a subject.

Malapropisms

A malapropism is when an author mistakenly uses one word or phrase instead of another similar-sounding one. I’m not about to list every single malapropism ever made, but these are the ones I notice most often:

To comprehend is to understand something, to apprehend is to arrest someone, and to be apprehensive is to be anxious or fearful of something bad happening.

Could care less means you do care. Couldn’t care less means you don’t.

A lot means a large amount of something. Alot isn’t a word and you shouldn’t use it.

The only real solution to using malapropisms is to make sure you fully understand any words you use in your writing. Never guess, and make sure you always google it. Having beta readers also helps.

If you made it this far, congratulations! You now know the most common errors in amateur fiction and how to solve them! Thank you for listening to me complain for two thousand words.

The most important thing to remember is that it’s okay to make mistakes. First drafts are always gonna be a little bad. The real key to success is knowing what your end goal is, and how you plan on achieving it. Here’s hoping this was a helpful tool for that!

Shoutout to @salmonandsoup for helping me think of the list of issues to address! You're a real one. Also shoutout to my mom, who doesn't have Tumblr. Also the third person. You know who you are.

#grammarposting #tf2 #grammar #educational shitpost #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writing advice #fanfiction writing advice #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #bro your participle is dangling

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arrowheadedbitch · 6 months ago

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I feel like the importance of grammar is too overblown in schools, because YES, grammar is important to know, but if you overstate it's importance, you end up with a bunch of people who don't understand how to misuse grammar artistically. For example, a run on. A run on sentence IS improper grammar, but I have seen far too many people think that you aren't allowed to use a run on sentence EVER, and that's just not how art works. Because a run on sentence is a powerful tool! It is the perfect way to show that a character is panicked! It can make your reader feel your characters panic! Or anxiety! Narrators talking in run ons because they're FREAKING OUT! Characters talking in run ons because they're TOO EXCITED!

You can use improper grammar in your writing because PEOPLE TALK WITH IMPROPER GRAMMAR!

I see so many writers completely losing their character's voice because they get too hung up on proper grammar, let your character talk like a person, not an english essay!

I know your teachers drilled it into your head, take my hand, be free, it's okay, the big bad english class can't get you here.

#writing #grammar #tips

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kayvsdoodles · 2 months ago

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Nudges you

Hi I love your work your colours are so. Colourful. It makes my brain tickle in a good way

Okay onto questions!!!!

one: where the hell did you get the references slash ability to draw iron man mech suits. like. if you just doodled that in a meeting??? what????? you didn’t have a reference???????

second question: what brushes do you use?

third question: how you anatomy (good grammar yes)

ok thank you goodbye have a. Lovely day

lkdfghlkdjfhlgkj hey THANK YOU YOU'RE VERY SWEET i did look at him to see what he looked like first, but mark 1's all rectangles and messy bits he's very nice to draw!!! i highly recommend it. clunky little guy

all other iron man suits i learned to draw by simply drawing iron man 1000 times. i learned to draw in general by drawing iron man i love him very much :) but looking up pictures of hot toys figures/those cool model kits of the suits is super helpful for refs! nice clear shots and fun poses.

secret: my art is very easy. here are all of the base colours i use

taken from an old timey comics colouring guide palette thing because i love old timey comics and i hate colouring <3 for skin tones/shading i'm usually adding overlays and fiddling with the colour wheel though

for that iron man, i used the "real g-pen" brush that comes with clip studio paint; for most of my other art i use this little dude that i made!

I colour with the default "milli pen" brush that also comes with CSP, and then the speckle shading stuff is with. the tone scraping thing in the airbrush tool that also comes with CSP......tone scraper my beloved how would i get through the day without it......

anatomy is really hard and i am constantly fighting for my life, glad it's looking successful i will tell you when i figure it out lkdfjhgkj i try to do studies breaking bodies down into shapes but gosh people are just shaped so weird. iron man suits are easier. let's just draw iron man suits

have a lovely day!! 💛❤️

#i use like 3 tools i am very tired i make things easy for myself :)#how did i draw him: gazed at him lovingly while my boss was talking until he was scanned into my mind & then drew him :)

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johnny-slaughter-me · 1 year ago

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— “ 𝐈𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚. ” | Johnny Slaughter x Female Reader.

Oneshot. You and Johnny have a fun time in his shed, making a hot afternoon even hotter.

Notes. English isn't my native language so typos and grammar issues are likely.

Warnings. This fic is nsfw, minors dni please. Arranged marriage and wife reader, canon gore and cannibalism mentioned.

Enjoy. I hope you enjoy the content. Much love, Cherry. 🍒

It was another hot Texan afternoon, the sun shining through the yard of the family's other house- Black Nancy's house. That house was now a home to you, being picked up by her to stay with them as Johnny's wife. You made some iced tea, offering a cup to Nancy- as she sat in the living room sewing some of the clothes that needed a repair. You then grabbed a cup for you and Johnny, heading over to his shed. Knowing his probably working on some of the tools and traps they use for their "meat".

Knocking on his shed door you called out for him: "Johnny? Honey are you in here?" Johnny stopped his work, and yelling a "ye'" out to you and then going to open the door for you. "Hey, brought you some iced tea." You said handing him his cup and sipping out of yours. He grabbed it and started to chug on the cold drink, you just stared at him and he just purposefully finished the drink in your face, "dang hun', was good." He said, "glad you enjoyed it." You answered, offering him your cup as well. He worked so hard in the heat you couldn't help but think of how thirsty he must be. He took it and drank whatever remained of your drink. Handing both empty cups to you, "heya, when you're done with your chores you should come back." Johnny said, followed by a wink and a smack on your ass. "Yess sir." You said, and turned around to take the cups back to the house. Johnny felt himself already hardening to the thought of you.

It didn't take you long to return, you told Nancy that Johnny had asked for and you will be back for the dishes after you assist him, Nancy knew exactly what Johnny wanted from you- but didn't mind as long as her boy was satisfied and his hunts weren't compromised. After all, thats why she had arranged the marriage between the two of you.

Once again you knocked on his shed's door, "hey honey, im back." You said, and the door instantly opened. Johnny didn't say a thing, he simply lifed you up and placed you on his workshop table, kissing down your neck. "Mhhhhh Johnny..." you moaned "yea hun'? You like it huh? You like it when I touch you like this?" He said undoing your bra and tank top. "Yeahhh...." you responded. Your hands holding onto his broad shoulders. He moved to your nipples; kissing, sucking, and twisting them. He played with your breast as you moaned. Then his hands traveled to your shorts and started to unbutton them, yanking them off alongside your panties. His fingers quickly finding their way inside you, "mmm already wet for me huh?" Johnny said pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Yea-yeahh..." you said in between breaths. He started to pull away, his fingers now coated with your juices, he placed them on your lips and you didn't need to be told twice. You sucked on them gently, tasting yourself self, while Johnny used his other hand to remove his pants and boxers. You kissed his fingers as he pulled away, he then pulled you off his workshop table and told you to turn over. You did as he said, leaning over the table. You felt his hand smack your ass, his member pushing its way into you right after. You moaned at the sensation and Johnny didn't hold back, he roughly started to trust in and out until he found the perfect rhythm. He grunted as he felt the relief of being in you, "yeahhh take it, take it." He said thrusting even harder. As he felt that he was getting closer to the edge he pulled out and said "on your knees, now" you got in position and he wasted no time putting his member in you once again, this time fucking your mouth. The sound of you gagging on his length made him feral- and you tried your best to take him all in, he grabbed your hair in one hand, your face in the other and started to fuck you even harder. You gagged and some drool escaped your mouth but Johnny didn't care, he kept on going until he finished. "Show me baby" he said pulling out for the last time, you opened your mouth and showed him his cum he just released in your mouth, "good girl, you can swallow now." He once again ordered you, after swallowing it you open your mouth once more, showing him its empty. He patted your head for a quick moment and told you you were a good girl. He gave you some of your clothing back and then picking up his own, dressing back up. "Well Johnny, you are my man, you'd kill for me, the least I can do is be a good girl to you." You mumbled as you put the last of your clothes on. He turned around, resting his hand on your frame, "danm right I'd kill for you, your mine now Y/N, and no other will have you. Now go on and help ma' with dinner, you'll get to prove me your a good girl again tonight." He wink and let you go. With your cheeks already flustered red from the thought of him fucking you again tonight, you bud your temporary goodbye and made your way back to the house to continue your chores.

#Cherry Writes 🍒#Johnny Slaughter #Johnny Slaughter Smut #Johnny Slaughter x Reader #Johnny Slaughter x Female Reader

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shelbystales · 1 year ago

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Honor and Blood - Part Twenty Three

Tommy Shelby x Reader - Masterlist

Read previous parts here: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22

Summary: you are a gypsy and your family lives near Birmingham. Tommy Shelby needs a favor and Johnny Dogs says you’re the one he should ask for. A meeting is scheduled and when Tommy meets you, he is instantly drawn to you.

Warning: Swearing, fluff, mild smut

A/N: Please comment and interact. tell me what you think! it means a looot to me if you do!

English is my second language so I apologize in advance for the grammar mistakes.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After Tommy left, you went for a quick breakfast, deliberately ignoring your father's presence as you enjoyed your meal. You felt too proud to reach out to him; it was he who should apologize.

When you finished eating, you decided to leave quickly. You felt a bit sad and in need of care. So, you walked to your Aunt's caravan, seeking some solace.

Your aunt welcomed you with a warm embrace and a knowing look. She had always been more than just an aunt to you; she was a confidant, a friend, a link to your mother's memory, and a source of wisdom.

"Y/n, dear, what brings you here?" she said, her eyes filled with an understanding that only family could provide.

You smiled and returned the embrace. "I needed to clear my head, Aunt. It's been a rough time."

She nodded and gestured for you to sit beside her. "It's always the way of the world, child. Life has its storms and its calm seas. But we are strong, like the roots of the trees and the flow of the river. We endure."

“Yes, we do” you smiled as you sat down next to her

“Tell me, what happened?” she asked with a caring look, “is it about the shop?”

“yes and no. I had a fight with dad” you told her

“He has been acting weirdly lately. Distant” she noted

“He has. He’s pushing me away” you said, your voice carrying disappointment

“Well, dear… if there’s anything I know about your father is that he is a distant man” she shrugged

You sighed, looking down at your hands. "I know, Aunt. But it feels different this time. I just wish he would open up, especially considering everything that's been happening."

She reached out and gently squeezed your hand. "Y/n, your father is a complicated man. He carries many burdens and secrets. Sometimes he forgets how to be anything but distant."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of frustration and empathy. "I just want to help, you know? And it's not just about the shop; it's about the family."

She nodded in understanding. "I know, dear. Family means the world to us."

As you shared your thoughts, your aunt's wise eyes gazed at you. "You know, crafting jewelry has always been a way for us to bond and express our emotions. Would you like to make something together? Maybe it could help clear your mind" she smiled

You looked up at her, a small smile forming on your face. "I'd love that."

She handed you some delicate, shimmering beads and intricate wirework tools. You started to work with the wire, remembering your mom as you did.

"You still remember how to do it," your aunt praised with a big smile as she began crafting herself.

“How can I forget? But talking about dad… I worry he is in trouble, you know?” you blurted out

“He can get himself out of trouble, y/n. He always has” she said and you nodded “he’s a big man, dear. Not a child. He knows what he is doing”

“You are right” you breathed out

“You know, your mom visited me in me dreams tonight” she said making you smile

“Really?” you asked, your eyes shining with happiness

“Yes, did you know me sister was the one who taught me how to craft jewelry? She was so talented with her hands. The clothes she made, the tapestry, the jewelry… everything her hands crafted was perfect” your aunt spoke with nostalgia on her voice

“She taught me too” you smiled remembering “she was so patient and the way her hands flowed was just magical” you chuckled.

Your aunt smiled warmly. "Your mother was an extraordinary woman, just like you. She would be so proud of the person you've become."

You smiled, your eyes watering a bit, feeling moved by your aunts words “I miss her”

“Me too, dear. But don’t forget you carry her spirit within you," she pointed at your mom's necklace around your neck. Remember, the jewelry we craft is not just for beauty. It's a piece of our souls, a link to our past, and a legacy for our future. It carries the strength and spirit of your mom, closest to your heart”

You wiped away a tear and nodded, your heart heavy yet also filled with the warmth.

As you both continued to craft jewelry, you felt a deep sense of connection to your mother's memory, your family's traditions, and your own inner strength. The intricate pieces you were creating felt like a tribute to the strong and talented women who had come before you.

The hours passed and you shared stories and quiet moments of crafting with your aunt, the caravan filled with warmth and nostalgia. Your aunt's presence and wisdom provided the comfort and guidance you needed, a reminder that even in times of turmoil, your family's love remained a source of strength. As time passed the earrings you were making slowly came together.

The two of you gave the finished touches to the jewelry as the sun began to set. The earrings were a work of art, a combination of intricate beads, and delicate wirework. You marveled at the final result, holding the pair up to the light to catch the way they shimmered and sparkled.

Your aunt looked at the earrings with a smile, her eyes filled with pride. "Your mother would have been overjoyed to see what you've created, y/n. These are exquisite."

You nodded, your heart filled with a sense of accomplishment "I feel closer to her” you smiled “thank you for this”. Your aunt embraced you with a loving hug and you left her caravan wearing your new earrings.

Seeing the sun was now setting, you made your way to the caravan to get a change of clothes before heading to Thomas's place.

As you approached Tommy's house, you felt a mix of anticipation and comfort. But when you arrived and knocked on the door, it wasn't him who came to answer it. Polly was the one who opened it and greeted you with a smile.

“Oh, hi honey. Bloody Thomas isn’t here. But come in” She walked inside. She looked tired, hair messy and dark circles under her eyes… it even seemed like she had been crying. You followed her in, closing the door behind you.

“Has something happened?” you asked putting your small bag of clothes in the floor next to the sofa, as you joined Polly, sitting beside her

“Just Thomas being Thomas” she said, with a hint of disgust in her voice “sometimes i hate his guts”

“What did he do?” you asked, afraid of the answer

“He called the fucking cops on Ada’s husband. Bloody bastards barged in like devils seconds after he held his newborn child” She took her hand to her face “Oh, Ada’s screams still echo in my mind”

“Ada gave birth?” you asked with a smile and she nodded

“Yes, to beautiful baby boy” she gave a shy smile

“I can’t believe Thomas did that… did he know she was giving birth?” you asked innocently

“Of course he fucking knew. You know y/n, Tommy is a bad man to many people. Don’t forget that” she warned as she lit herself a cigarette “what some tea?” you nodded as you digested her sentence

“Do you know where he is?” you asked as she handed you a cup of tea

“Probably at the garrison” she said “Ada doesn’t want to see me anymore” she vented “she is shutting us all out”

“I’m so sorry” You sipped the tea, the warm liquid offering some comfort in the midst of this revelation. It was hard to reconcile the man you loved with the actions Polly described.

Polly's tired eyes studied you, her gaze softened with a touch of motherly concern. "Y/n, you've got a kind heart, but don't ever let it blind you to what we are and what we do."

As you continued your conversation with Polly, you couldn't help but wonder where Tommy might be and what could have driven him to make such a decision. After you finished your tea, you left your cup on the center table and rose from your seat.

"I'll see if I can find Tommy. Maybe he'll tell me what the fuck he had in mind," you said with a chuckle.

"A whole bunch of nothingness, that's what all bloody men have in their brains. Can you get me that bottle before you go?" Polly asked, rolling her eyes and pointing at a whisky bottle on one of the shelves. You nodded, retrieving the bottle as Polly reached for your empty cup. However, something about the cup seemed to catch her attention, and she looked at it in surprise.

"What?" you asked as you handed her the bottle.

"Have you been feeling okay?" Polly asked, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

You furrowed your brow, puzzled by her question. "Yes, I have," you replied, chuckling. "Why?"

Polly's smile remained as she mentioned the tea leaves. She handed you the cup back, her gaze steady. "I noticed something interesting in your tea leaves."

You hesitated, not taking the cup from her hand. "Oh, I don't know how to read them. I never learned," you admitted. "What does it say?"

"Let's hope Ada isn't vengeful to call the coppers when it's your turn." she said with a cocky smile

You looked at her, shocked by the implications. "What?" you asked, your eyes widening. "But I've been taking precautions, tracking my cycle."

Polly offered a simple, if somewhat fatalistic, explanation. "It's not like math,dear. Sometimes, our cycle changes."

Your mind raced, contemplating the possible consequences of the situation. The unexpected revelation had thrown you on a loop of worries, but you couldn't dwell on it now. And you knew well that tea leaves were not one hundred percent precise.

Your priority now was to find Tommy.

"I'll be going now, Polly," you said, a sense of urgency creeping into your voice. "Thank you for the tea and the talk. I'll catch up with you later."

Polly nodded, "Be careful out there, y/n.”

You made your way towards the Garrison, a place where you often found Tommy. As you walked, your thoughts returned to the unsettling news about the tea leaves. Being a mom right now was never in your plans. Oh, what would your father say...

You pushed open the heavy wooden doors of the garrison and stepped into the dimly lit interior. The atmosphere was heavy with the scent of cigarettes and sweat, a testament to the long hours and hard decisions made within these walls. The bar was empty, which was weird because it wasn't even seven p.m.

As you entered, you saw Tommy, sitting at the bar with Grace by his side. He looked defeated, his usual air of authority replaced by a weariness that sent a chill down your spine. He looked up, and his expression brightened when he saw you.

Grace had a possessive hand on his shoulder, her presence a mix of support and concern. Her eyes locked onto you as you walked in, and there was a smug, almost haughty expression on her face.

You made your way to the bar, fighting to hide your unease. Grace's demeanor was unsettling, and you couldn't help but feel like an outsider.

“Hi” he said with a small smile as you walked over to them. When you arrived his hand held yours as he pushed you close into a kiss. You felt a sense of relief wash over you as he closed the distance between you and him.

The connection between you two was strong, and Grace's presence seemed to fade into the background.

"Hey," you smiled warmly. "Heard you had a tough day." You offered him a comforting smile.

Tommy nodded, his eyes locked onto yours. "It's been a hell of a day," he admitted “maybe we can call it a day and go home? Or do you want a drink?”

With a sympathetic nod, you squeezed his hand. "let’s go home. You probably need to rest and I'm here now. Maybe I can make the day end a little better." you caressed his tired features

Grace shifted uncomfortably beside Tommy, her icy stare fixed on you. It was clear she wasn't thrilled to have you around. At least her hand was off your man now.

"Ah, Grace," you greeted her with a polite but slightly strained smile. "Still putting in those extra hours, I see."

Tommy's hand was resting on your waist, and he shifted his gaze from you to Grace, who seemed to be making a conscious effort to maintain her poised, superior demeanor.

Grace shifted uncomfortably beside Tommy, She looked you up and down, her gaze filled with a subtle disdain that she didn't bother to conceal.

"Always working, aren't we, Tommy?" Her tone held a layer of annoyance, and Tommy merely nodded.

"Working with an empty whisky bottle?" you asked seen the bottle in front of him and his glass full, just like Grace's. Your question was imbued with a touch of sarcasm.

Grace's smile remained polished but strained, her demeanor almost confrontational. "Oh, this?" She picked up the empty whisky bottle, examining it briefly. "It's not all business, you know?" She offered a suggestive smile. "Besides, I find it quite effective in getting the men here to talk."

As she spoke, her unwavering gaze remained fixed on yours, conveying her intent to establish some form of dominance, particularly over Tommy. You saw through her veneer, sensing that there was more to her than met the eye.

With a diplomatic nod, you acknowledged, "You have your ways, Grace. It's a shame he has to be drunk to talk to you." You offered her a sympathetic smile, but before she could talk, you continued "Shall we head home?” you leaned in, close to his ears, where you left a gentle kiss “I have to tell you how much I love you back. I didn't have time to do it this morning" You added a mischievous touch to your smile.

Tommy’s pupils dilated at your words, his hand on your hips gripping tighter on your skin. He then stood up, addressing Grace, "lock things up as I leave, ey?"

Grace's demeanor, once so polished, was now tinged with annoyance. "Of course, Tommy," she replied coolly.

As Tommy led you towards the exit, her icy stare followed you both, but you ignored it. “I went by your house before the garrison” you said as he opened the door for you to leave.

“Yeah? Sorry I wasn't there, needed some air” he said. Tommy's grip on your hand tightened as he escorted you through the dimly lit streets of Small Heath.

“Some air ou some Grace?” you mocked

"Please don't," he asked

"Right. Sorry," you conceded, though your curiosity still gnawed at you. "But really, what were you two talking about alone in there? Why there was no one in there?" The questions slipped from your lips before you could stop it.

Tommy let go of your hand, his frustration evident as he rolled his eyes. "I'm not in the mood, y/n."

"It's a simple question," you countered, your curiosity getting the best of you.

He sighed and stopped walking for a moment as you reached the front door of his house, "I was drinking with me brothers before Polly barged in, telling me about fucking Freddie, acting crazy at me y/n. Then everyone left, but Grace. We drank and talked. I didn’t want to come home and face Polly. People know well not to stay when we are fighting"

"Freddie," you murmured, the weight of that name hanging heavily in the air between you and Tommy. “Polly told me what happened”

“I bet she did,” he said sarcastically, opening the door to his house and walking in. Not holding the door to you as he usually did. Great, he was pissed at you now.

He walked straight to his room, before you followed him you grabbed a glass of water, seeing your cup and polly’s inside the kitchen sink as you did. Instinctively you took your hand to your belly, feeling a weird rush of adrenaline wash over you. Shaking the weird feeling, you grabbed the bag of clothes you left at the living room and followed him upstairs.

You put your glass of water on his bedside table and followed him upstairs. As you walked into the bedroom, you found him in the process of changing his clothes, wearing only his briefs. Despite the day's troubles, you couldn't help but appreciate the sight.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, holding him close. His hands found yours as they rested on his chest.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you," you said softly.

"You didn’t," he replied, his touch tender.

“I think I did…” you continued, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

He turned to you, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I know you don’t like Grace. But it’s tiring to have the same type of discussion all the fucking time.”

“I can see that,” you said, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest “but she gets under my skin with her posh and demeaning attitude. You saw it today and it's clear she hits on you”.

“Yea…. Many women do, Love. but remember it's you I want. It's you I hold on to every night” he caressed your cheek and kissed your lips “She is my secretary, you’re my love. Let her be demeaning… let her act stupid all she wants. Don't let her get under your skin. She might think she's better than you, but you are better than her”

You smiled “yeah… that's hard. But ok, I'll try. Is she at least doing a good job?”

“Yeah, she's great with numbers” he said

“Good” you smiled “now tell me about Freddie Thorn. Tell me what happened," you inquired.

“I don’t know what happened. That's the thing. I don't know how Campbell knew where he was,” he confessed, his frustration evident.

“You didn’t tell the cops?” you asked, a bit surprised.

“Of course not, why would I do that to Ada? She already hates me enough,” he said, moving away and sitting on the bed.

You joined him, sitting beside him. “Maybe Campbell just followed him,” you suggested.

“No, he's a communist, love. He is good at hiding; he wouldn’t have made a mistake like that,” he responded.

“Maybe you have a rat,” you considered

“Yeah, that’s what I think,” he said and then changed the subject, a small smile appearing. “Is that earring new?”

You smiled and leaned in to kiss him. “Uhum, I made it today.”

“You did?” he asked, impressed, between the small pecks you left on his lips.

“Yes,” you mumbled, pressing your hand on his thigh.

“Its beautiful,” he said and your smile grew bigger

His fingers gently traced along your jawline as the gentle pecks on your lips evolved into an intense, passionate kiss.

The world outside seemed to disappear as you and Tommy became lost in each other. Your fingers found their way to the short hair at the nape of his neck, while his hands traced the contours of your body, a silent reassurance of his affection.

Time passed, unnoticed, in your intimate embrace. Eventually, you pulled away, your breath slightly labored, and your eyes met his with a spark of desire. "I think you needed that," you said, a sly smile playing on your lips.

Tommy nodded, his gaze intense. "Yes, I did." His voice was low and husky, his desire mirrored in his eyes. "I need you." he says, his thumb caressing your lips as his hand held your chin.

You smiled as you glided your hand through his abs to his briefs making him groan at the feeling. His eyes watching you as your hand disappeared inside the white thin fabric. You took his already hard cock into your hand, rubbing it up and down between your fingers. His eyes burning on you.

You leaned in to kiss him, the kiss slow as you both tasted the feeling of each other's lips. You kiss his neck, making your way down to his chest and abs as you kneeled in front of him, in between his legs. He opens them a bit wider, so you fit perfectly.

You slowly pull down his boxers. His cock springs up as he is freed from his briefs. You hold his cock firmly, fingers tickling his balls as you place your lips over the head of his cock kissing it a few times. But before opening your mouth, you circled your tongue slowly teasing him and having fun as you tasted him.

Opening your mouth you fit him inside, closing your lips around him as you bobbed your head slowly up and down.

“Ah, fuck” he whispered, making you look up at him, seeing the desire and intensity on his gaze.

You held at his balls with your free hand, massagem them as you kissed the length of his cock before taking him into your mouth again. This time taking a long inspiration through your nose as you go for a deep throat.

“Fuck! Love, that’s so fucking good” he moaned, making you smile in satisfaction, your mouth still full of him.

You continued your job, alternating between deep throats, slow intense sucking, liking and kissing. Using your hands to put some pressure into your movements.

“I’m close” he said as he watched his dick disappear in your mouth. “Wait” he asked and as you stopped what you were doing he stood up. You looked up at him as he held his cock and lightly hit it against your cheek a few times. “Will you be a good girl and take it?” he asked, holding up your chin with his other hand.

“Yes,” you said, opening your mouth to him, holding your tongue out as he slowly slid his tip on top of it before he started to slowly thrust into your mouth.

Both his hands held your hair out of the way, one resting at the back of your neck, the other on your temple. You did your best to sync your breathing to his movements, trying your best not to gag every time he thrusted in.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so fucking good” he moaned as his intensity increased, mouth-fucking you hard. You held at his thighs, trying your best to stay still, feeling your eyes starting to water. He looked down at you, watching you take his cock. Increasing his movements even more. “Fuck! y/n, I’m coming” he warned before exploding in your mouth. You did your best trying to lick him clean, taking every drop “that's it” he praised as you licked his length.

He took a few seconds to recover before helping you stand up. He kissed you intensely, biting your bottom lip before getting your glass of water and handing it to you

“Thank you” you smiled and he headed to the small sink in his bedroom, to wash his cock.

You took off your clothes and got one of thomas’ pajamas from his drawer. You felt your throat a bit sore and you massaged it.

“You ok?” he asked and you nodded

“Just a bit sore” you answered and he frowned, walking towards you.

He held your chin “open up” he said and you did he looked in and frowned “it looks a bit red. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you”

“You didn’t. I liked it” you smiled and so did he

“You are a something else” he whispered as he kissed you deeply. “Are you hungry?” he asked and you nodded

“A bit, yeah” you answered

“I don’t think anyone made dinner, but its still early. We could go out” he said but you shook your head

“No, I could just eat some slices of bread later. Are you hungry?” you asked and he shook his head.

“Come on then” he held your hand and you both walked to bed.

He held you close to him, just as he always did, radiating warmth. His fingers ran gently through your hair, and the room was bathed in the soft, dim light from the streetlamps outside. Everything felt tranquil for that moment.

You shifted slightly and turned your head to meet Tommy's eyes. "Tommy?" you began.

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips soft and tender. "What is it, love?"

"Polly said something to me today," you started, your voice carrying a touch of hesitation. "It's probably nothing, but it got me thinking."

Tommy looked down at you, curiosity etching his features. "What is it?" he asked.

You sat up, a hint of nervousness creeping in as you were unsure of how he would react. A part of you felt like it might be foolish to share this, as it wasn't certain.

"Do you believe in reading tea leaves?" you asked, your voice quiet.

Tommy considered the question for a moment. "No, not really," he answered. "Why?"

You took a deep breath. "Earlier, when I was talking to Polly, she read my tea leaves," you explained, watching his expression closely.

"What did it say?" he inquired.

"Polly thinks… I might be… pregnant," you admitted slowly.

Tommy frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "I thought you got your period," he mentioned.

"Yes, I got it last month,” you chuckled “but it was almost three weeks ago," you said, shrugging. "I know it's not certain, and you know how tea leaves are. I might not be pregnant now but it shows it as a possible close reality… anyways I thought you should know."

As you revealed the possibility of being pregnant, Tommy's expression shifted from curiosity to surprise and then contemplation. He was silent for a moment, his fingers gently tracingy our skin as he absorbed the news.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, his gaze meeting yours. "Y/n, you're right, it's not certain. But if it's true, well, that would be the best news in a long time." His voice was filled with warmth

You felt a sense of relief at his response. The uncertainty of the situation still loomed, but having Tommy's support made it all seem a little less daunting. At that moment, the prospect of starting a family with him wasn’t so scary.

He pushed you close and kissed you again, his lips lingering for a moment. "We'll find out for sure soon." With those words, you nestled back into his embrace. “how are you feeling about it?”

“I’m fucking scared” You said making him chuckle “I didn’t want this at this moment” continued

“Well, maybe the tea leaves are mistaken” he said “it happens a lot, you know”

“I hope so” you said, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

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TagList: @abbygraceasd @tsnelf7 @blyanyan @thecrazytealady @chaoticevilbakugo @mestiza003 @itsmadamehydra @captivatedbycillianmurphy @faatxma @onlydeadcells @l1-l4 @hellstears @randomfanfics02 @literishdegree99 @watersquirtpewpewboomm @alexxavicry @goodnightnsel @rito4ka @moon-river-drifter @Thenattitude @strangunddurm @fixtionlover @shittingonyourgrave @dolllol2405 @atomicsoulcollecto @allaboutsml @aberrant_annie @pedropascal-lover @Violet_19999 @lyarr24 @t4medicroe @woofgocows @milkshakelol @anathemaloren @knowledgefulbutterfly @watercolorskyy @redhead7799 @star017 @watercolorskyy @babaohhhriley @kassieesworld @batgurl42 @babayaga67 @rottingb0dy @shaddixlife @mcladybug @musicsweetie21 @whenmypartysover @lostgirl219 @Vintage_girl @lothbrokcore @slaypussypop-21 @nyenye @mrsteelyogirl @hellscyther @nikkialex @1nterstellarcha0s @madamesafio

A/N: how come I make this Tommy more caring than Modern Tommy in "best aid"? Maybe bc I like this Tommy more... and i can't have him hurt y/n... 😝🤗

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lia404 · 5 days ago

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It doesn't happen a lot, but for once I'll be venting on main. Let's talk about fandoms and languages, in a very frustrated way.

Many time, I have found myself upset at and exhausted by the entitlement of native English speakers when everyone else is already making the effort to speak their language.

Try (and I'm not being a Yoda here, I don't even say to do it, just to even try) to speak my language, and then we'll talk about the terminology I use and the grammar mistakes I make. Don't you dare dogpile on me for using the wrong word when I'm clearly not native. No, I was not trying to insult anyone. Yes, what I said was wrong, but you can point it out in a didactic way without being aggressive, and you can acknowledge that we are not all equal in languages or in our abilities in learning English, the One Language To Rule Them All (with all the dark implications of the title.)

Heaven's sake. I know I'm sometimes missing nuances. I am painfully aware that I'l never speak or write like a native speaker, and I'll never grasp the full underlying meaning of some words. Especially when they are words that have evolved, that have become something else in the context of modern Internet, in a corner of the web that I don't visit, because most of my English interactions are in the context of fandoms.

I don't understand your memes. I don't understand your jokes. I likely never will, and I've given up on asking for explanations, because they usually come with even more ununderstandable jokes, sometimes borderline mockery.

And don't you dare tell me "but your English is so good! Don't worry!" because guess what? I know. I've been studying that language for 25 years. It's my fucking job. I am rather confident in the fact that I know English grammar better than most native English speakers. It doesn't mean I don't make stupid mistakes, and it doesn't make me a native speaker. No matter how hard I try, I will never, ever be a native speaker.

Day after day after day, I'm putting in the effort of thinking in a language that isn't mine, looking for hidden meanings and weighing every sentence because even after 25 years, they'll never come naturally. Day after day, interaction after interaction, I wonder if I'll accidentally insult someone because of an awkward, gauche phrasing.

And I write this while being fully conscious that I have the priviledge of being a native speaker of one of the colonising languages. There are tons of resources in my language.

"If you're not happy, then just don't go to English fandoms."

See, that's the thing. Fandom activity exists in my language, but not in the fandoms I'm in. But you know, maybe I will. Maybe I'll snap and populate a full niche fandom with stories that native English speakers can't understand in a glance, have to put in an effort to interact with. Maybe I'll make memes in my language that none of my mutuals can get. But in the end, it will just be like shouting in the void.

Because here's a reality: most English speakers never put in the effort. They see a foreign language, and move away. And if, by some sort of miracle, they actually want to try, then they are lucky to be able to count on automated translation. Machine translation tools are always trained on English first. Any language > English usually is the pair that has the most reliable results. The same cannot exactly be said about English > any language. And again, I acknowledge that I'm priviledged in such a case, because I'm native of a language that is well-covered.

But it will never be enough for international fandom interactions. Another uncomfortable reality: the globalisation of fandoms has led to erasure of most other languages in fan spaces. This one's going to be hard to reclaim.

So I adapt and I speak English and I write in English. Sometimes I read fanfics and I cry, because I stumbled upon a sentence that I know, even with the best efforts in the world, I would have never managed to come up with. Sometimes I realise that between my job and my fandom activities, English has become such a huge part of my life that I'm losing my own mother tongue, that my phrasing is becoming awkward in it too. I'm not confident anymore using it. I look at the sentence I wrote on the blank page and I cry some more.

And I'm so, so tired of seeing "well-meaning" entitled native English speakers (and, no offense, but most happen to be from the USA, so there might be something cultural at hand here, but while I feel legitimate to observe languages, I don't think I have the legitimacy to observe societies) trying to hold everyone in the world up to their self-centred standards.

I speak English because you speak English. Speak my language flawlessly, and then we'll talk about my flaws when speaking yours.

#i am aware that this post will likely not gain me any friends #but it does say “linguistic equity apologist” in my bio so you knew what to expect #and honestly this is the tamest post i could make on the topic #would love to hear what other non-English native speakers in fandoms have to say about it #happy to interact with English native speakers about this topic too #but whoever dares go “Not all native English speakers!” gets blocked on sight #like maybe i genuinely like you and your blog this is not something i will compromise on #check your fucking priviledges #lia in fandoms #lia blabla #lia likes languages

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wispstalk · 2 months ago

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today in LLM Derangement Syndrome: nanowrimo released a statement that use of AI tools would not disqualify anyone from participating, so tech-illiterate tumblr users have made a bunch of hysterical posts calling for boycotts and accused them of nefarious motives because ProWritingAid is one of their sponsors:

i'd never heard of this one, but I have heard of Grammarly, which has been around for fifteen years. by all accounts it's not very good, so I don't use it. But this is what these apps do:

(from this zapier article comparing the two pieces of software)

And yes, more recently these programs have features where you can select a section of your own text and prompt a continuation. so i guess you're plagiarizing yourself in that scenario.

So my question is: if we've all decided this type of tool is unacceptable, are we now demanding that professional writers disavow their works as "artificially generated" if they have ever used Grammarly? Are we boycotting these writers and publications? If you've ever used the grammar suggestions in your own writing software, are you boycotting yourself? Does the boycott extend to spell-check?

#granted nanowrimo's statement that anti-AI stances are 'classist' is funny as hell considering these tools have paid tiers #llm derangement syndrome

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luci-is-a-bitch-x3x · 1 year ago

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Obey Me! Brothers do Pumpkin Carving!

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Welcome! Halloween's here so I have some Halloween content for you! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

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After lots of convincing Mc is able to convince every brother to do some pumpkin carving with them! Mc and the brothers decide to just buy pumpkins from a store, yes going to the pumpkin patch is part of the fun, but Beel might accidently eat all the pumpkins and then everyone would have to foot the bill. Beel wasnt allowed to go to the store to buy his pumpkin with everyone else, but Mc and Belphie promise to pick him a good pumpkin. As promised they pick Beel the biggest pumpkin to carve. Belphie gets a regular sized pumpkin. Mammon, Lucfier and Satan all get regular sized pumpkins as well. Levi gets a large pupmkin, not as big as Beel's just big enough to carve what he wants to carve. Asmo gets both a large pumpkin and a tiny pumpkin. Out of pity an extra couple of pumpkins were bought so Beel could eat them. With the pumpkins bought they all gather in the kitchen in HoL and set everything up so they can carve their pumpkins. Mc set a rule where everyone had to carve a face into the pumpkin, Mc wasn't specific enough and choas breaks out, Mc did this in hopes that competitions wouldn't arise. For the first five to ten minutes everything is calm and collected, it almost feels like a normal family is carving pumpkins, but chaos inevitably breaks out.

It started with.. Asmo and Mammon stencilling the same thing on their pumpkins. Probably a popular pupkin design on Devilgram. The two of them were just arguing at first, but with neither willing to change their pumpkin design a physical fight began to approach. Thanks to Levi's quick thinking the fight was avoided, Levi told Mammon if he went with an orginal or an intricate design he might be able to make some Grimm off his pumpkin. So of course Mammon was willing to switch his pumpkin design, that design wouldn't make Grimm! Mammon ends up not selling his pumpkin because it looks so nice sitting outside next to Mc's pumpkin.

Then.. Levi and Satan started arguing over which one of them got to use the better carving tools. Lucifer didn't want to spend a bunch so only a couple sets of the tool kits were bought. The twins were sharing a tool kit, Asmo and Lucifer were sharing a tool kit, Mammon and Mc were sharing a tool kit, although everyone allowed Mc to use their carving tools, Satan and Levi were supposed to be sharing a tool kit, but instead they both began to horde and fight over the better carving tools. Satan wanted to carve a cats face so he wanted it had to be carved well obviously. Levi wanted to carve Ruri-Chan's face so his had to be carved perfect obviously. The two of them started to argue so bad that they both turned into their demon forms. Levi threatened to summom Lotan when Satan called Ruri-Chan a 'waste of digital space' and a '2'D disaster'. Mc broke their fight up and asked the twins to share with them instead of each other. It wasnt a big deal as Belphie had already began to fall asleep, Beel ended up sharing with Levi and Satan was sharing with a half asleep Belphie.

All was well for a good thirty minutes, everyone was getting into the groove of carving their pumpkins, but suddenly one of the brothers said- 'my pumpkins definitely going to turn out the best' -probably Mammon, Satan, Belphie or Asmo. The others can be competitive but i feel like they were really focusing. The person who said it probably said it to make chaos break loose, and thats exactly what happened. They started arguing while carving their pumpkins, whatever carving tools they had were now theirs, they werent sharing anymore. Unless it, Beel or Lucifer, they didnt care about the competition. Levi kept his tools just so he could carve a good pumpkin, Belphie actually had some good tools and then fell asleep with them in his death grip. Ha, get it?

The last of the time spent carving pumpkins was pretty argumentative and competitive, only a few participants were acting calm and nonchalant. In the end there was no contest, some of the brothers tried to get Mc to judge but Mc said they wanted this to be a 'fun family experience', Mc had to promise to judge a competition on a later date.

How the pumpkins turn out:

Lucifer knew what Mc meant when they made the rule, so Lucifer went with a spooky face. It was simple but also somehow intimidating. It looked rather spooky with a candle lit inside, and when it rotted it looked even cooler. Lucifer's pumpkin only survived until it rotted because Mc begged the Anti-Lucifer squad to not destroy it. Mc wanted to set all the pumpkins out on HoL's porch, Luci's pumpkin was the last to start rotting besides Mc's. Lucifer's pumpkin didn't get to rot for long, his brothers begged to blow it up.

Mammon didnt really know that Mc just meant a regular face, but he didn't do anything crazy. Mammon had to take awhile to think of his design as he couldn't do his what he originally planned to do because of Asmo. Mammon ended up doing a plain goofy face, it wasnt very intricate but if you held it up to Mammon him and the pumpkin have the same goofy grin. Mammon's pumpkin didn't get to rot, it was on HoL's porch one day and the next day it was gone, someone stole his pumpkin. Mammon was upset because if it was good enough to steal it was good enough to sell! He wouldn't of sold it, Mc was too happy when he put his pumpkin next to theirs.

Leviathan didn't fully understand what Mc meant, he understood it had to be a face. Levi was planning to do Ruri-chan no matter what so he just carved Ruri-chan's face. It was probably the most intricate besides maybe Asmo's. Levi did the anime eyes, nose, and mouth, and then he carved out Ruri-Chans bangs. It was a really good carving, everyone was suprised it wasnt the one that got stolen. Out of all 6 pumpkins that got to rot, Levi's was the 4th to start rotting. Levi was extremely sad and held a small funeral of respect, thats Ruri-Chan he has to pay respect!

Satan understood what Mc meant which is why he chose to make a simple cat face, yes thats not exactly what Mc wanted but how could he resist? Satan's pumpkin was adorable. It was carved out like you where looking face to face with a cat, it didnt have to many details, just cat eyes, the little snoot, a simple mouth and some ears. As simple as it seemed it was adorable and he was super proud of it. Him being proud of it and the fact that his pumpkin rotts before Lucifer's enrages Satan. Satan's pumpkin is the second to start rotting, he was fumming when he saw it, the only reason he didn't go on a rampage is because an actual cat sjowed up in time. Satan made a promise to Mc so he couldn't destroy Lucifer's pumpkin, but Belphie and him give Lucifer "his just deserts" by pranking him extra.

Asmodeus didn't understand what Mc meant, and even though he made a big deal out of getting to do the design from Devilgram, Asmo ended up doing his face. To be fair it was like a close up, he carved out his eyes and nose, some of his hair and part of a mouth. Asmo may not have understood that Mc meant a simple pumpkin face, but he slayed at carving his anyways, it was really well done. Asmo's pumpkin started to rot first and he was distraught. How can his beautiful pumpkin, with his beautiful face be the one to rot first?!?!?! He took it as a bad sign for his health, was so dramatic and worrisome over a pumpkin rotting first.

Beelzebub understood what Mc meant, he went with a pumpkin face that was drooling. 'The pumpkin is thinking of food' was Beel's explanation. Beel's pumpkin had two cute eyes but when the pumpkin carving began to take to long, Beel's pumpkin lost an eye to his hunger. Yes, he did straight up take a bite out of the pumpkin, luckily he didn't eat all of it. Mc was actually lucky enough to get a picture of Beel's pumpkin before he ate part of it and after. Everyone was baffled that Beel's pumpkin wasn't the first to rot, as it had a bite chunk missing out of it. Beel's pumpkin actually survived for awhile, it rotted just before Lucifer's did.

Belphegor was half asleep but he understood to just make a simple face. Sadly he fell asleep and was still asleep when everyone started finishing up. When Belphie had been awake he managed to carve a mouth so when he woke up he carved a quick circle above the mouth and claimed he made a cyclops. Even though he was half asleep, and then fully asleep, his pumpkin still looked rather cute. Belphie's pumpkin was the 3rd to start rotting, his started rotting soon after Satan's. Belphie was upset that his rotted before Lucifer's but he wasn't as upset as Satan. Belphie convinced Satan to pull extra pranks on Lucifer due to their pumpkins rotting first. Like thats Luci's fault.

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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Sorry I haven't posted in a bit loves! I wanted to do some Halloween content but I was to busy to actually write any. I will be posting more Halloween content, I'll try and get some more out on Halloween, but it might come a bit after! I know I have lots of content I need to finish and I apologize for that! I hope you have a scary Halloween!! Stay tuned for more! Stay Safe! & Stay Spooky!

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