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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 3 months

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The Host | Yandere Zoldyck Family

“I’m so happy, we were able to locate the portal so quickly! Now you all can return to your world without breaking the space-time continuum!” You mused, happily sipping on the piping hot tea in front of you.

Whether you liked it or not, you wouldn’t have refused this cup. After all, it was specially crafted for and given to you by the reclusive Zoldycks. It was an honor—more like a miracle that you were being served an un-poisoned cup of tea.

You were used to prickly (read as: murderous) anomalies that were ejected into the aimless void of time. As per your occupation you housed and befriended said anomalies until it was time that they returned to their dimensions.

When you were selected at the end of your life for this position, the galactic overlords in charge assured you that this was a duty perfect for you. That no matter what, your tenants would find themselves comforted by you during their time there.

You begged to disagree even though none of your tenants had successfully ended your life yet. You prepared yourself for the day they one day would.

“Yes, it will be a shame to lose contact with a host as pleasant as you.”

Zeno smiled, closing his eyes as brought his own cup to his mouth. Letting a hand fall over your heart you silently thanked him. Another hand reached for you tearing your attention away from the former head.

“It is a shame your work keeps you so busy!” Kikyo cried, holding your hand. Gingerly running the pads of her fingers over your knuckles.

“Ah, but I feel as though I haven’t worked a day.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you like this job of yours?” The old man raised his brow.

“Of course! When I’m not hosting I’m free to do what I please and the guests that come by always make things interesting.”

Memories of the various visitors came to mind as you smiled; Kikyo puckered her lip in a pout. Her clutch on your hand had gotten slightly tighter, nothing alarming but noticeable.

“But don’t you feel overworked? Tired? Lonely?”

“There’s always the other people in the town.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have expected them to have any intelligible conversation.”

You dismissed the slight towards your community, it’d be impossible for her to realize their worth within the year. Granted they weren’t particularly strong or inquisitive; it wasn’t like they were built to be outstanding anyway. Nonetheless, they were kind to you and always understanding when it came to the guests. Not once have you needed to send a complaint to upper management. Everyone played their prescribed roles without fail.

“They can be really pleasant, once you get to know them.”

Zeno sighed, “So you say but I can’t imagine you not caring for them. You're always so forgiving.”

“Well…they have their flaws.”

“Ah! You’re too humble (Y/n)! The least they can do is honor your contribution to their pathetic lives!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Zoldyck but a cake every once in a while is good enough for me.”

“Ah! So simple (Y/n), it screams you no nothing of luxury!”

“Really I feel as though I’ve almost been overwhelmed with it with the Zoldycks here.”

“Please! If you could see the Zoldyck Estate in our world, you’d truly know luxury!”

You let her continue, chatting with her and Zeno, who occasionally chimed in. It was time to enjoy their company for they’d be gone before you knew it.

____________________________________

“Ne (Y/n)! Alluka wants to hold onto your jacket for a bit is that alright?”

“Oh? I barely noticed I left it behind but sure.”

You continued to walk side by side with Killua making your way to your destination. The wind was cold. Wisping at your cheeks and nose as you mesmerized yourself with the smoky puff your breath made. Catching cat-like blue eyes watching you with amusement you stopped, replacing it with an embarrassed smile.

He snickered. “What? Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh Killua you're the only kid that makes me feel like a silly child again.”

“Eh?! You make it sound like I’m the reason you’re just childish anyway.”

You playfully hummed. “Hm. Maybe I am.”

You shared a laugh before letting your eyes begin to wander. Looking past the trees of the park to admire the clouded sky blending into the freezing lake. Despite having walked this path millions of times before, it never failed to take your breath away. Making you sigh in awe, you minded the frozen droplets hanging off the naked branches; looking as though they were a part of some artist’s canvas.

Even the rosiness that danced at your cheeks brought by your body’s attempt to warm you in the frigid season, felt magical in its own right. It was easy to lose sight of your path as your feet remember the way; allowing you to drift.

But before you could go too far the warmth of another hand-a smaller hand in your pocket brought you back. Looking down in surprise at the blushing owner looking away from you. You chuckled intertwining his smaller, rougher hand with yours as you walked with a pep in your step.

“I-I’m just keeping my hand warm. Where I’m from it never gets this cold.”

You smirked. “Sure!”

You didn’t believe him and he knew that. But that wasn’t the point anyway.

“You two seem to be getting along well.”

The monotone voice stopped the both of you in your tracks. Standing in a slim-fitted insulating jacket was the eldest of the Zoldyck children. Standing precisely on the crack in the sidewalk he demanded you meet at. You didn’t miss the annoyed click of Killua’s teeth. Or the blank foreboding stare directed at a specific pocket of yours.

“Yup, Killua offered to walk me to our meetup spot. If you’re alright with it, I wouldn’t mind if he came with us.”

Illumi robotically tilted his head, his eyes still trained on the same spot it had been focused on since he started watching you.

“I doubt Kil would find any enjoyment in where we’re going.”

Killua's eye twitched. “Oh? Where are you going?”

“Somewhere for adults, I’m sure you’d find it boring.”

“Really try me,”

The two intensely held each other’s gaze, vaguely conveying that this may need your intervention. With a well-timed sneeze, you might have saved yourself and the whole park from their ‘playful’ exchange of blows. Illumi seemed to back down first stepping closer to your unoccupied side where he waited for his brother to leave.

Said brother didn’t look all too convinced. Squeezing his hand in yours brought his attention to you, already smiling in silent reassurance.

“Hey, take care of my sweater for me ‘kay.”

The silent message was heard as Killua, who begrudgingly released your hand from his hold. With a final glare towards his brother, he’d begun to leave, watching as you turned and waved to him as he went. He also watched as his brother slipped his hand into your opposite pocket. With a final click of his tongue, he moved at speeds practically impossible for the human eye back to the apartment you’d organized for him and Alluka.

Making your way wordlessly out of the park, finally stopping within the toasty insides of a ceramics shop. With the unmolded clay in front of you and the guide having finished their instruction, you finally giggled at Illumi.

“I’d hardly call ceramics an adults-only event.”

Illumi didn’t laugh, he didn’t even look up from the shape he was focused on molding.

“I would. He isn’t a part of this so it isn’t bizarre for it to be considered an adult event.”

You decided to keep quiet about the toddler two tables down. Instead, you poked your head over the assassin’s shoulder to see what he was making. Glad you hadn’t started working on your own creation, you pulled back the raven locks that were spilling dangerously close to his work in progress.

Missing the slight stutter of his fingertips as he registered the soft, gentle hold of your fingertips he continued. Opting to focus solely on his creation with more intensely.

“I’m so glad I brought a hair tie for this exact moment.”

“...if you don’t hurry up your clay will dry and your money will go to waste.”

“Ah. So money conscious.”

Finished with a nice low ponytail, you scooched back into your seat; prepared to begin your own creation. Sparing a glance at Illumi, you expected he’d be laser-focused on his work but instead he was staring at you unapologetically. While you found this wasn’t uncommon for him it didn’t change the fact that it was still odd.

“So uh what are you making?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m just asking, are you worried I’ll make fun?”

“My finished product will be more than enough to answer you, right?

“I guess so.”

You had an inkling of worry that he’d create something graphic and horrific. But you had to remind yourself: he wasn’t Milluki. Who unapologetically, on multiple accounts, scarred surprised you with animal entrails, graphic posters, and concerning digital art that bore striking resemblance to you.

Speaking of striking resemblance…you had a glorious idea.

____________________________________________________

“So…what is it?”

You hated to ask but you had to. The ceramic resembled the bare requirements of a face colored by a paint color akin to your skin tone. Somehow when you turned your head to the left side you saw a screaming face but when you turned your head to the right it looked as though it was smiling.

“....”

He just stared at you blankly (as he usually did) but you could tell there was something unfamiliar. He turned his head away from you as he reached for his creation back.

“If you can’t tell than it shouldn’t matter.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, I’m sorry!”

You held the…thing in your hands with care as you bore witness to the rare sight of an embarrassed Illumi.

“Even if I don’t know what it is I think it’s beautiful in its own right.”

“Don’t lie its unbecoming of you.”

“I’m not lying!”

You let him snatch it from your hand and tuck it in his pocket. Smiling to yourself, you found comfort in that he didn’t immediately toss it into the trashcan by the doorway. Catching up with his quick pace you held you’re wrapped creation to your chest.

“I would like to continue on now.”

“Don’t just sweep it under the rug! It’s all about growth.”

_____________________________________________

“Here you are Kalluto!”

He was doing what you had suggested: finding his own style. Alas, he still found himself taking the most buried articles of clothing from your closet and posing in the mirror. If you had noticed you didn’t say much, when you let yourself into the room he’d been given.

“I made it just for you.”

The vase had a pink hue, with speckles of purple. He liked it but he was curious why he was gifted this.

“I based it off the color of your eyes. I saw the shade being offered and I thought it’d be a perfect souvenir for you.”

His cheeks were overtaken by a hot crimson as he gingerly accepted the small vase. He loved it! Holding it close to his chest he almost missed the presence of his eldest brother outside his room. Judging by the slim-fitted jacket, his hat, and his pointed stare at the gift itself told Kalluto everything he needed to know. So that was his decision, for his day out with you? The ceramics shop?

The image of you crafting something while smiling along with him. Hands touching one another while you both crafted something beautiful. Your attention solely focused on him.

He’s so jealous.

“Thank you. It looks beautiful.”

“ I’m so happy you like it! I was worried I wouldn’t get the color right but looking at you now I see I’m right on the mark.”

Kalluto’s cheeks never changed from heir red color, causing him to tuck his head into the collar of the shirt he stole from you borrowed. Sending a cautious look at the figure in the doorway he took a gamble. He put the vase down, quickly moving to nestle his head into your stomach almost immediately having your arms wrap around him. He didn’t bother locking eyes with the observer, instead pretending to be fully enveloped by your attention.

If he did have a problem, Kalluto could argue that his time with you was limited. Therefore nothing was off the table. Not when their access to you would be gone forever. He’d rather it not be that way.

__________________________________________________

“Silva.”

The call of his wife had the current head of the Zoldyck family, wordlessly asking what she needed. Nonetheless, he responded in kind.

“Kikyo.”

The two of them were seated a ways apart from one another each sipping on their respective drinks as the candles slowly burned.

“We need to talk about (Y/n).”

“What is there to talk about?”

He knew what she wanted to talk about. Those of any authority within the Zoldyck family already had a gray consensus about their host. All that was needed was definite words, so that they could be a united front on the subject.

“On the topic of (Y/n) coming with us.”

Silva crossed his arms.

“We cannot.”

“Why not? All of us like them! They show promise in maintaining the family, they’ve even convinced Kil to come home more often!”

He wanted to grit his teeth but he didn’t. Only brought his cup to his mouth for a pensive sip.

“No, they’d never survive training. Let alone our world in general.”

He maintained his composure as he parroted Zeno’s consultation. Even as his wife slammed her own cup on the tray and opened her mouth to protest. He knew she’d ask because he had asked.

“Mr. Silva. Is it okay if I call you that or would you rather it be Mr. Zoldyck?”

It amazed him that such a meek, small, weak host would have made him even consider bringing you along with them when they returned. Their host couldn’t be farther from them brimming with compassion and mindfulness that brought out a side the family had long since fought against.

It shouldn’t have enamored them as it had. But it did. Leaving everyone in the family vying for their attention. With them the family’s prowess in killing meant nothing and it didn’t do any favors in garnering positive response.

But it was for that exact reason Zeno mused that they’d never fit in the Zoldyck family. Even if they chose the route of marrying you into the family it would diminish your time with the everyone. Favoring the one they’d marry over all others. It’d be so unfair

“Husband, this opportunity to attain a sliver of another world would benefit the Zoldyck family! Even more so as a tenant or as a servant under all our care! It wouldn’t impede the family’s strength and their rules to serve would make them an asset to explore.”

“And have them reach a butler’s strength alone. At their level?”

Kikyo hung her head covering her visor with her hands as she resisted the urge to weep. Silva refused to look at her, focusing intensely on the still liquid in his cup. The pain in this revelation was mutual.

“Mr. Silva, did you go to aquariums when you were younger?”

“For missions.”

“What about on your own?”

“What would be the purpose of that?”

“I don’t know, to see the animals. To learn about them.”

“What use would learning about these animals do? If there is no time that I’ll be within their biome it would do nothing for me to retain this information.”

“Isn’t it nice to just be in awe though? To just fathom loosely about the world we barely have begun to discover?”

The image of their excited face illuminated by the tank was the moment Silva’s first felt that emotion. It reminded him of meeting Kikyo, of having his heir, of establishing a budding lineage. He learned that feeling was better not left ignored for it could very well determine the safety of the ones he felt it for.

He’s seen it in his children, in all his children, so he could only see what he could control spiraling for the others. He could only think about the repercussions for when they returned home. There’d be no way to cull it easily; with you being literal dimensions apart.

Kikyo’s sulking stopped abruptly her hands folding to sit on her lap.

“Perhaps there is a way to bring them without breaking the rules.”

Blue eyes look at her expectantly.

“The Zoldyck’s have not encountered anyone worthy enough to consider adoption.”

“Adoption?”

“Yes, the process hasn’t been used within the family before…if it were to be implemented–” There was something hopeful within her voice and a twitch of a smile on Silva’s lip.

“Then the rules that qualify the one adopted would be entirely up to the head of the family.”

Silva attempted to resist the smile that spread across his face, as he leaned back onto his hand. How apparent would it be that their host had such an impact on them since they left the mansion? But even so, this was proof that they should have their host after all.

“I’ll have to check with Zeno…but perhaps it might be a veritable solution.”

____________________________________________

You were glad you spent the night before sobbing your heart out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to smile through the Zoldyck’s goodbyes. Granted none of them, except for Kalluto and Alluka, were even close to shedding a single tear. Nonetheless, you hugged them all trying to calm yourself.

The otherworldly energy spewing from the portal never made you nervous before and yet your hair was standing on end. Your tolerance for fearful situations had decreased significantly as you got to know the Zoldyck family but it never completely went away. You weren’t an idiot.

They were a family of assassins.

It’s foolish not to expect threats on your life at every other turn. But this had an effect on you on a deeper level than that. This was more unsettling.

Was it the amount of place-holding spirits killed during their stay? Or the physical planet of this dimension lurching as it coughed up one of the most murderous families to stay here? Or was there something wrong with the integrity of the dimension itself?

You were tethered to the realm and it was tethered to you. For the most part, it only means you have a loose idea of what’s to come with the weather or an effect on a guest’s actions. But in times of dire situations, you’ve had the world reach out to you. At this point, you were already looking for a sign.

But that wasn’t your main focus not when the younger ones were keeping you occupied. Hanging on your arms were Alluka and Killua; the latter was playfully mirroring the former.

“Aw (Y/n)! We’ll miss you so much!”

“Yeah! We’ll miss you soooo much!”

“Ah Killua at least you could pretend to be serious about this.”

Spying Kalluto a ways off clutching the vase you had made him you gave him a small smile.

“This relocation didn’t turn out to be a complete waste.”

Milluki spoke up, unabashed as he pulled along a cart of all his anime and gaming memorabilia. You could see the invisible sneers of disgust from majority of the family, Killua didn’t even bother hiding his.

“For once I’d agree,” Illumi chimed sending a bottomless look in your direction. “There were plenty of…unexpected trades to learn in a world devoid of hunters.”

“Thank you?” You shrugged.

Zeno let out a chuckle putting a thoughtful hand on your back.

“I think all of us in the Zoldyck family have learned quite a bit.” You had to fight the tears now.

“For that we thank you.”

The entirety of the Zoldyck family bowed to you, leaving you to fight tears at the demonstration of respect and love they had for an average-dimensional host. Fanning at the water building up in your eyes you bowed and thanked them yourselves.

“You guys! Get over here and give me hugs!”

You made sure to hug every member of the family even if they made unsettling comments as you did Milluki.

Getting the timing perfectly right the portal opened to its full size, the electric blue illuminating everyone’s faces. You could smell the atmosphere of the Kukuroo mountain and the forest upon it. All that was left to do was for them to enter.

“Alright now as stated before time has only been an hour in your world. Now you will be coming down from the sky but I’m sure you all will manage.”

“Thank you for everything (Y/n).”

You bowed your head to the patriarch missing the devious glint in his eyes.

“Of course.”

Starting with Silva they each dove into the portal, leaving you to stand by yourself in the field of sunflowers selected as a gateway. Turning away from the flashing portal you could finally address the world’s message for you. The surrounding grass began to lay down unnaturally, spelling out a word.

“They–”

You bent to down watching as the green blades folded into more words, filling your heart with trepidation as it spelled slowly.

“--will not–”

The blades continued to fold slowly as the sunflower stems frantically sprouted from the ground. Not bothering to wriggle free from the stems wrapping around your wrists, you tried to hurry the world’s spelling. Why did you feel like you needed to rush?

“-let you go–? Wait what the he-”

Before you could finish a translucent, glowing, and golden dragon, like one from Japanese folklore came out of the portal. Wrapping around your entire body it skillfully carried you into the shrinking portal. Only stopping for a short time to wriggle free of the sunflowers that were simultaneously pulling at your limbs.

Now on the other side of the portal, you were being pulled backward. Your front looking at the endless sky watching the portal shrink and close, slicing the desperately reaching sunflowers and their stems.

Something within you seemed to break but before you could dwell on that you finally tried to register what was going on.

“AHHHHH!”

Diving with you in it’s coil the dragon was rocketing in the direction of a mansion. All you could do was hold tight as the dragon slowed to a stop. Gently letting you lie on the floor, taking a moment to ground yourself you barely registered the booming voice.

“Congratulations (Y/n), you’ve been inducted into the Zoldyck Family.”

“W-what?”

“As the adopted of the Zoldyck, you’re duty to the family is to be protected and to participate in the family to the best of your limited abilities.”

“Wait—”

“Per your lack of Zoldyck blood, your title as the adopted is willing to change for the family’s convenience.”

“HOLD ON!” You stood up fully holding your shaking hands out as you began to process what this would mean. Before you can get a word in Kikyo runs up to you, shoving your head into her chest as she rocks your unsteady form.

“Rejoice my (Y/n)! Now for all the care you’ve given us, we get to take care of you!”

“Mother, you’ll smother them.”

“Ah big brother, don’t need to get jealous I’m sure you’ll get your turn.”

“I know that.”

Unable to speak or look too far away, you felt Alluka and Kalluto grab at your pant legs. No doubt they glared at one another as they vied for your attention.

“(Y/n)!” ”(Y/n)!”

Being no help at all Killua wasn’t too far behind, ”Oi don’t hog them all.”

Whether it was the exhaustion of dimensional travel or losing air within your mother Kikyo’s breast. Beginning to lose consciousness you could barely make out the ghost of a smile on Silva’s face. Zeno withheld no courtesy, smiling happily as he turned away.

After all, you were home with them. Where you belonged.

Surely the Zoldyck family could handle the dimensional repercussions of claiming their host.

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gretavanlace · 10 months

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Valtava

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, pain during sex (this is handled gently and lovingly) language, dirty talk, etc.

Everyone thank our dear @jake-kiszkas-smirk for the scene where his head is resting on her stomach. I’ll say no more to avoid spoiling it, but it’s delicious and it was her idea that she so kindly left in my hands. Thank you, you filthy genius, you. I love you madly. Also, I no longer remember who to credit for this pic of Josh, it’s been in my camera roll so long. But I couldn’t not use it for this…that’s dangerously close to sacrilege.

“This scene right here,” Josh speaks over Ray Liotta’s musings, one arm stretched across the back of his couch, the other bent to stroke his thumb along your jawline, absently “This is where Scorsese really stretches his wings. Here we are, watching the heinous discovery of murder after murder while Layla, a song about love and lust, lulls us. We feel both safe and shaky.”

His fingers now wind through your hair, relaxed and warm, with your head in his lap. “I think it serves as a reminder that even ugly can dip its toe into the waters of beautiful, if you squint hard enough.”

He pauses and talks over his own stream of thoughts, “Well, most ugly things, anyway. Someone saw these murders as a necessary evil. Something to ensure the world they had built for themselves, for their families, stayed clean. Someone went home and slept a little easier knowing there was one less heart beating out there ready to turn state's witness on them.”

You nod and hope for him to keep going. The way his mind works fascinates you, as does the unique lilt of his tone, and the excitement that sharpens his gaze when he is ruminating on something that really spins the wheel for the hamster in his brain.

Catering to your unspoken wish, he carries on, “And maybe even the victims were in on the method to the madness, y’know? They chose the life they chose, they understood how quickly loyalty and love can shape- shift into survival and self preservation. Layla helps the audience understand. It marries the beauty and the bloodshed for the people in the seats.” he shakes his head in wonder. “It’s fucking genius.”

“Thought your brother was the big Marty fan?” You ask, studying the perfect cupid's bow of his lips from below.

“Jake?” His eyes are on the screen, but his focus is on you. “Tarantino. I dig the use of his nickname, though. Marty. It makes it seem as if you have him over for dinner regularly.”

“Maybe I do.” You tease.

You earn a smile, but still not his gaze. “And what do you serve?”

Adopting a tone of nonchalance, you shrug, “Usually, we make love until dawn and then share cold spaghettiOs right out of the can.”

“Ah,” He nods seriously, “the opulence. It’s all very grand.”

A comfortable silence wraps itself around you both until you have a thought that pokes to be shared.

“Do you suppose Scorsese might have chosen Layla because of the double-edged sword it also happens to be as a piece? Since Clapton wrote it about his best friend's wife?” You feel a blush heat your cheeks, and immediately wish you hadn’t contributed. He knows so much about film and you know so little.

True to Joshua-form, however, he hushes your unease effortlessly. “Shit! I’d never even considered that. The beauty for Clapton was the ugly for Harrison. God, I’m so in love with the way your mind sees everything that’s invisible to mine.”

I’m so in love with…

He means the ideas in your head, the quiet corners of your thoughts, but it quickens your heart and nudges the butterflies in your stomach to life, nonetheless.

So, you pull yourself up, a thigh nestled on either side of his waist in the blink of a breath.

“Hi.” You long for the timid smile dancing shyly on your lips to morph into something sultry. Something sexy. Something that might flicker the darkened flame, that hides down deep in his belly, to life.”

“Hi.” He grins back, allowing you to wiggle around until you’re comfy in his lap. “If Goodfellas is boring you, I stand zero chance of keeping you entertained, baby love.”

Your fingers worry over the beads looped around his neck and then twist into the soft pink linen of his shirt, finally coming to rest at the button fastened nearest to his throat. Your eyes travel over him, hungry to soak him in. To tuck this image of Josh, so quietly content with you perched above him, away in your heart…a pretty picture to revisit when he inevitably becomes a memory.

What is he thinking? That question seems to occupy your mind more often than any other. He is an enigma. A mystery parading as wide open sunshine.

Intrusive thoughts, cruel and unrelenting, silently bully you. You’ve become quite adept at ignoring them over the years, opting for at least some semblance of normalcy in your quest for a happy, healthy life. Whatever that means.

But these thoughts in particular are cloaked in far too much truth…too many signs pointing to the worst being the obvious…to be easily disregarded.

You want to say these things to him. If only to bask in the assurance you might catch in his reply. But to risk the absence of said reassurance, is a feat too great.

Instead, you begin a tentative roll of your hips as you lean in close to meet his pillowy lips with your own. He tastes of mint, and the IPA he has been nursing, and Josh.

Like always, he indulges the kiss, but stills your hips, and you long to vanish into thin air, leaving nothing more than a coiling wisp of smoke in your wake. The rejection comes with a throbbing ache in your chest. Is your heart truly breaking? Now you’ll be forced to offer it to him in pieces.

And he isn’t the only one to indulge in old habits, because, also like always, you crawl into the safe embrace of humor. “You’re right, Joshua…you’re boring me. Back to the brilliant mind of Marty, my beloved.”

You slide off of him and stretch back out on the couch, focusing on the screen to hide your tear glossed eyes as he gets comfortable behind you.

“Scorsese, you bastard,” he shakes his fist in mock indignation, “how dare you steal the affections of my woman?”

A forced laugh comes out sounding a little too close to a sob. You play it off as best you can. Nothin’ to see here.

Alas, he catches it. And, of course, he won’t leave it alone, though you certainly ask him too.

“What is it, baby? What’s wrong?” He turns you toward him, hovering over you as you lie on your back and long to melt away. “Talk to me.”

“I just— I mean,” death seems of great comfort. “Is it me? Do you not… are you not… am I not pretty enough? Or sexy enough? Or… I don’t know,”

A frown of deep concern furrows his brow as his palms move to cup your face, “What? Are you not…Jesus, baby, of course you are. Fuck, if anything you’re too much. Too pretty, too sweet, too smart, too sexy.”

Your words come quiet and small, quivering with painful vulnerability “Then why?” You close your eyes, and thankfully, he allows you to hide this way.

Exactly what you knew would happen, happens. He lies without lying. “Why, what?” He sounds of feigned confusion. He knows what you mean.

Throat now constricted and pulsing with a wringing pain, you close your eyes tighter, unwilling to bear witness to whatever lie will follow his last. “Why don’t you want me?”

A tear breaches the dam you had hoped was impenetrable. You loathe and curse it.

“Hey, shhh…don’t do that. Don’t cry.” He brushes the tear away and then kisses over the path it took.

“Don’t cry?” You snap. A twinge of regret flares to life within you. You’ve never spoken to him unkindly, and could it be that there’s no going back? Perhaps this is it; the end of the road you’ve been heading inevitably for.

To your great surprise, he laughs. You crack an eyelid open to find it sincere. “So, she’s capable of something other than sugar, spice, and everything nice, after all.”

His hand smooths down your chest - can he feel the violent rattle of your heart as it thrums and beats out of control?

When at last he speaks, there is an edge to his tone you’ve never heard before. It warms you clear through to your curling toes “You think I don’t want you?”

You shrug, all pink cheeks and complete ineloquence.

“Well,” he soothes, drawing gentle patterns upon your temple and forehead, “you should know, that is far from the case.”

But, rather than take the moment further, as he so easily could, as you so desperately want him to, he sinks into an innocent position - resting his cheek on your stomach as you struggle to keep it from rising and falling too rapidly, his eyes, once more, on the screen.

The film drones on; mafia murders and cocaine swirling down flushed toilets. Betrayal and 20/20 hindsight…

…and on you watch, on the surface - in reality, you can think of nothing else other than the weight of his head on your stomach.

There is a dull ache there, inside you, gripping at every nerve ending all at once. He knows what you want, and he very obviously doesn’t want the same thing. He doesn’t want you.

He speaks first, and there’s too much truth in it. He knows you too well. “I need you to stop that.”

“Stop what?” You stupidly offer a tiny shrug, but for what? He isn’t even looking at you.

“Your walls, I can feel you stacking bricks. Stop, or I’ll take a wrecking ball to them.” he pets over your forearm comfortingly. It doesn’t help.

“Alright, Miley,” you toss the joke out like a life preserver for yourself. “Just don’t start licking sledgehammers and we’ll be alright.”

He gives you the softest laugh. It more closely resembles a sigh, “Is it only sledgehammers that you are opposed to me licking?”

Oh.

When he coolly pushes your shirt up and begins dragging his lips, licked slick and warm, around your belly button, you think you might burst into tiny, burning, longing, pieces. God, how you want him.

“You like that, baby love?” He speaks the words melodically into the room like a lullaby, hushed as a priest absolving you of your sins in a darkened confessional.

A whiny hum is all you seem capable of, but it doesn’t look like it matters much to him.

“Yeah?” He’s teasing now, and you think it might kill you. Your hips begin a barely perceptible rock in response. “Can I touch you, sweetheart? Do you want that?”

“Josh, please,” his name is less than a whisper. It’s a plea gasped into the dark, dancing with the flickering glow of the tv as it blinks and changes like lightning.

The warmth of his hand between them causes your thighs to twitch and tremble, but he hovers just above making actual contact. “God, look at you. How could you ever doubt how much I want you? So pretty. Can I touch you here, baby? My pretty, pretty girl.”

With a soft moan, you lift your hips, pressing into his palm. He doesn’t push for words, your body has given him all the consent he needs, and the want in your eyes reiterates.

His mouth is wandering your soft, flushed, stomach as he slides your pants away, gentle and sure, the tip of his tongue bridging the distance between his kisses.

Your hands weave down into his wild curls, comforted by the way they wrap themselves into your touch, spiraling around your fingers as you tug at them and tenderly scratch over his scalp. A particularly sweet drag brings a shiver to life on his shoulders. He groans in appreciation and runs away with another piece of your heart.

“Oh, fuck,” you murmur, surprised and grateful, when at last, he sinks a single finger into your warmth.

Should you at least have the decency to feel shy about the sound it makes? About the way you must be soaking his skin? Perhaps. But you don’t, and judging by the curse he secrets into the still of the night, there isn’t any reason to.

“Does that feel good?” He isn’t taunting you, it’s a genuine question, but there is a hint of a teasing tone there as well, peeking out from around the edges of his words and you think it might just be the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard.

“So good.” You’re whining and writhing beneath him, tiny pouty huffs of breath tumbling off your lips over and over…but you don’t care about that either.

His finger slips out and you mourn it pitifully, until it swirls around your swollen clit, tearing a shaking cry out of your chest. And then, there it is again, filling you as his thumb begins a slick trail of tight circles just right.

“You want more?” Oh god…the way he sounds, the way you feel. He’s setting you further and further on fire with his gentle, decadent, prodding. With his breathy, gingerly obscene questions. Flames - scorching and crackling - lick up inside you. Incinerating as they consume.

“More?” He asks again, rasping the word, wantonly urging you on.

“Yes!” You nod frantically, spreading your legs further. You want him, need him, so badly…coveting the very breath in his lungs for its privilege of being inside him in a way you’ll never know. You long to trickle down into his pores and vanish.

A second finger - they feel longer than they have ever looked - joins the first and then begins a perfect, guiding, curl.

Tucking into that perfect place inside you, he fucks the pads of his fingers against it ever so carefully. Gently spinning your head in every direction.

He rests against your belly as the muscles inside churn and flex beneath his ear, watching intently as his hand fucks away at you. He wonders what it might be like to stretch you to almost breaking. How it would feel to push another finger inside, and then another, and another. When would you tell him to stop? Three? Four? Could you take that burning stretch? Would you relish it and ask for more? Fuck, he hopes so.

But you feel so tight around him…just two fingers full and you’re squeezing like you’ll never let go. He worries, and the pounding pulse of neglect that aches rhythmically in his cock, reminds him that he worries rightly so.

He has always believed you to be the most beautiful thing his eyes have ever had the pleasure of landing upon, but he’s never seen you like this - spread open, soaked and puffy with want. With need…for him. It doesn’t seem possible.

The way you move…fluidly, like ripples chasing over the surface of a placid lake, urging him along with your body. Your gorgeous cunt sucking his fingers in. A goddess, a beckoning siren, an angel…he can’t look away.

Can’t until he hears it, until he feels it, how close you are. Wild, frothing, horses couldn’t keep him from the gift of watching your face as you fall apart. An army of men wouldn’t stand a chance. He wants this moment with you, and he will have it. He wants to make you cum, and he wants to watch your eyes go blurry with it, and so watch he will.

“C’mon, baby…” he goes breathless when his face tilts up to meet yours. You are flushed and panting, lips parted. The soft pink of your tongue just barely visible, blushing like saltwater taffy in your mouth and he wants to lick against it, wants to taste you.

The smallest blips of a sound he can’t describe chase each other out of that beautiful mouth he wants to kiss so badly. Tiny uh’s that shift into gasps of desperation. You’re right there, and he wants it more than you do.

With his bottom lip caught between his teeth, he eases his chin into the softness just below your navel, creating a delicious pressure, and crooks his finger so perfectly, pressing and stroking until it feels like you’re floating and the only thing holding you in place is him.

It is celestial. He is every constellation and you are the astronomer, feet held to the ground by gravity, eye pressed against a telescopic lens hopefully, frantic for a glimpse of his wonder.

There is only Josh.

“Almost there, pretty girl,” he nods, gaze glossed with lust and something that looks like love. “You gonna give it to me?”

You are. You’re going to give it to him. You couldn’t stop it now if you tried. Fluttering walls trap him inside you as his stare fixes, unmoving and heated, with yours.

“That’s it, baby love, that’s it.” He urges you on, leads you deeper and deeper, those long, warm, perfect, fingers working you like he’s been there a thousand times before. “Shh, you’re alright. I’m right here, just breathe for me.”

That’s all it takes for you to realize your lungs are burning for a breath you’ve been unknowingly denying them - and with that hissing, hungry, gasp for air, you explode under him.

He watches, mezmorized, as your eyes roll back, teeth clenched like some ethereal, feral creature. It bursts out of you, clear and shimmering, like liquid diamonds, but you don’t know it yet, he can tell…you’re too far gone, and he fucking loves it. He fucking loves you.

He has said it aloud. I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much. I love you.

But that’s the thing that he doesn’t know yet because he’s also too far gone.

You’re quiet, gentle. Sweet, whining whimpers floating out of you as you vibrate and spill.

On your end, you hear the confession of how deeply his feelings run, but you don’t register…it will settle in later and you’ll weep for not saying it back. Though you don’t need to, he knows.

Once you’ve settled, he pushes up until you are eye to eye, lapping your release off his fingers. You’re sweet enough to lick off a whisk like cake batter, and he tells you so…but you can focus on nothing but the shining glint of you that he wears so well.

Shocked by the sheer amount, you blush hard and hot. Burning brighter still when it drips from his hand and lands on your lip. In an act you don’t seem aware of, you lick it away like a raindrop. The very sight of it, the somehow still innocent depravity, weakens him until he is forced to swallow a whine.

“Had I known what I was missing,” he grins lazily, “I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself.”

The confusion sends you crashing back to reality.

“But why stop yourself at all?” Your eyes are so wide and clear. It makes him want to gather you up and keep you safe.

Once more, it crosses his mind that you’re an angel. He wonders where your wings have gone.

“Because, I—“ he falters, shaking his head as if he might rattle his thoughts into place. Finally, he opts to show, not tell, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him.

And feel him, you do, but only for a moment. He’s so hard you’re cozy from the heat of it through the sweats he was lounging in when you arrived.

You’ve noticed. Of course you have. You’ve stolen a glance or two when he wasn’t looking. How could you not? You’d just always thought, and not to be crass, you’d always just assumed he was a shower, rather than a grower.

Now you aren’t so certain. He felt massive during the short amount of time he was rocking into you.

“You’re thinking very hard, baby love.” He smiles down at you. “Are those thoughts in my favor, or…?”

He trails off and awaits your answer with that Josh-like patience. Rather than speaking, you curl your hands around the waistband of his pants and then cast your eyes up, in silent question.

Nodding the go ahead, he continues watching you closely…studying your reaction as you tug him free.

“Oh, fuck,” the expletive sighs out of you as the tip of his cock - leaking, angry and swollen - slaps up, well above his belly button, with a solid thump.

He’s big. So big. Long and thick, beautifully shaped. Blushing pink at the head, and visibly pulsing under your awestruck scrutiny. You absently wonder how he isn’t light-headed for the amount of blood it must require to bring him to such full attention.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He explains softly, finally letting you in on the secret of why he’s been so skittish, “And I didn’t want to…”

His confession loses traction as he watches your mouth rather than meeting your gaze.

Your palms reach for him, cupping his angelic face with as much gentleness as the renewed desire racing through your veins will allow. “You didn’t want to what?”

While he searches for the words, you curl your thighs around him and pull him in, moaning out his name like a mantra when you feel him against you, skin to skin.

“God damn, baby…” he rocks his hips closer to yours and then remembers what he’s doing. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You tease, trying to lighten the heavy load of his anxiety.

“I know.” His mouth meets yours, searching out a slow, needful kiss. “But I kept imagining hurting you, and you being too sweet to say so. I’m still imagining it.”

Your tongue licks into his mouth as you wrap your fist around him. “Look at you, Josh,” you smile shyly through a kiss that is anything but shy. “My fingers don’t even touch.”

“Grew up under some power lines.” He teases, relaxing as he pecks along your jaw.

“I want you inside me.” You sound despondent, and feel just as forlorn, the look in his eye warns you may have a fight on your hands.

“Pretty girl,” he tucks himself away and begins kissing a slow, serpentine trail down your body after he flutters your shirt, indicating he wants it off. “I could barely get two fingers in your sweet little pussy. Why don’t you just let me kiss it? Don’t you want to cum on my tongue, hmm? Won’t that feel nice?”

Such filth is a captivating development, and one you like very much…but, you stop him all the same. Grabbing him by the hair with enough force to tilt his head back, pulling his mouth away from your straining nipple, you issue a demand you intend to make sure he fulfills, “I said, inside, Joshua.”

He raises an eyebrow and suppresses a grin of dirty glee. “Joshua?”

Ignoring him, you watch as he licks the pad of his thumb and then arch away from the cushion when he begins a steady, swirling journey over your clit with it. “Gonna make you cum first, love. Again and again. I’m gonna baby this gorgeous cunt until my name is the only word you want in your mouth…and then I want you to fill my mouth.”

“Jesus, Josh…” you’ve never wanted anything more, but you can hardly force the words out to convey just how fucking agreeable you are.

“You want that?” He flicks over you faster and faster, indulging in your pouty, needy cries, praying they never end. “You want to cum in my mouth? Feed me something sweet?”

“Easy, baby love,” he coos, whispering to you like you’re a tiny, broken bird, fallen from the nest and afraid. “You’ve got to relax a little more for me.”

“Yeah…” you nod, staring up at him as if he painted your entire world into existence. And maybe he did.

No longer able to count the number of orgasms he’s gifted you with, you feel like liquid silk. Or clay in his palm, happy to be molded to his liking.

“Yeah?” He drops a kiss onto your forehead and pushes in just a hint further, eyes darting up when you hiss with discomfort.

You offer a smile for him to continue and he returns it gently, but the way he’s fighting for breath betrays him. He wants you badly, he’s going slowly mad with the need to bury into your body to the hilt.

His fingertips skate a ticklish trail down the curve of your waist and then grip into your thigh, spreading you open a bit wider.

Both bare now completely to each other for the first time, you’ve given yourself over right there on the couch. The room is silent, save for hushed words and choked breaths twisting languidly through the air, the movie long since over.

He’d wanted to carry you off to the bedroom, but you refused.

You want him here. You want him now.

Palm cradling the back of your head, he brings you forward until your mouth is sucking at his shoulder. “Just like that, sweetheart. Good girl.” His praise flips your stomach. A violent somersault of carnal need. “You just suck and bite all you want. I’m gonna take care of you. You know that, don’t you?”

Nodding urgently against him, you’re far too interested in the marks you're leaving against his overheated skin.

“Words for me, okay?” He coaxes so gently it makes your chest ache.

“You’re going to take care of me.” You mumble through a long lick along his collarbone.

Without reply, he slides in deeper, yet still not much more than the tip rests inside you.

A shocked cry escapes you before you can stifle it and his face snaps up, searching your own for tells of pain that he doesn’t have to look all that closely for. “Baby,” the pet name sings out of him, a soft crooning apology. “Let’s stop, I…”

“No, please!’ The frantic want bubbling up inside you colors your voice and surprises you both, but he masks it well.

“Hush, love. No one’s stopping yet.” he soothes, massaging your hip carefully. Just wisps of touch, but you relax beneath it like a sleepy babe cradled up snug and safe.

You’re not fond of that ‘yet’ he tacked on to the end of his promise.

“Deeper.” Your hips lift, forcing his hand while you gulp down another sound of discomfort.

“Don’t.” His grip is suddenly digging into your waist, no longer careful, but swift and insistent instead. “Let me take my time. Let me be gentle. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s right, and you tell him as much as he begins a slow, stuttering journey. Starting and stopping as you writhe with impatience and uncomfortability in his capable hands.

Reaching up, he guides your fingers down until they brush over your sensitive clit. “You take care of this for me, okay, baby? Help me make this easier for my pretty girl…I can’t stand the thought of hurting you.”

“Please, Josh…” you sound a mess, and who gives a damn? “Please!”

You’re right, it’s time. He knows it better than you do. He can wait no more. There isn’t far to go anyway.

Suddenly, with one firm thrust, he drives in all the way to the base, shuddering as you coil around him like a hot, wet, fist. Squeezing harder and tighter and fuck….

“So fucking tight.” He is trembling, fighting the urge to let go already. “It’s like you don’t want to let me go. Pussy so pretty and soft. Like the sweetest thing all dressed in pink. Aren’t you fucking gorgeous?”

Your eyes drift closed, breathing through the last remnants of the biting sting. You’re so full, it feels so good. So right. So completely perfect, you cannot begin to fathom how you’ve lived all these years without him inside you.

“Say it.” He sounds like an angel clawing his way closer and closer to something he can’t survive without any longer.

“What?”

“Tell me you’re gorgeous.” He’s fucking you faster now…and it stings, but it hurts so good you want to feel the burn forever. “Say you’re my beautiful girl. Come on, I wanna know that you know.”

“I—“ your face flares as pink as the cunt he’s currently locked inside

“That’s it, baby love…” he coaxes, pumping into you with long, torturous strokes. “C’mon,”

A little less tentative now - he effortlessly makes you believe - the words finally come “I’m gorgeous.”

He smiles so wide his nose crinkles as he nods and dips his lips to meet your own. “Fuck yes you are. My pretty girl. You’re doing so well, look at you. Just taking and taking and taking me.”

Pulling you up and away from the pillow gently, he guides your line of sight to the sinful image of him gliding in and out of you. His cock, glistening and covered in your unbridled desire - it catches the light and steals your heart. Is it possible to be in love with a cock? Or are you just in love with the man who wields it?

Both. Most definitely, both.

“Look, baby, look…” a quivering huff escapes him. “It’s like coming home. Being inside you is like coming fucking home.”

“Harder,” you beg, winded and lost. He feels so good inside you. Stretched further than you ever thought possible around him, you clench and twist a fist into the throw pillow beneath you until your fingernails threaten to rip it open.

“Just…fuck,” his pretty face buries itself in the crook of your neck with a whimper as he falters. “Just a little.”

The room is hazy and blurred, filled with sounds neither of you can seem to quiet. Each moan and breath filling your head up until you feel feverish. Every groan and gasp pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

Your bodies meet in a sweat glazed dance that causes your teeth to grit together - biting down hard to suppress a scream that he might confuse with pain.

He tucks his own teeth into your throat deeply, growling out a melodic sound that sets you on fire, when the salt of your skin hits his tongue.

A shaky, “I’m gonna cum, baby love…where, baby, where?” Pants out of him with a desperate urgency the moment he releases your skin from his bite.

“Inside…” you plead, clawing at his waist as your thighs lock him in close. “Cum inside me…c’mon. Please,”

“Pretty girl begging for my cum. Begging me to ruin this beautiful little cunt…” he sounds as if he’s talking to himself, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re real.

“Ruin it, baby,” your palms drift up his back, slow and steady…urging him along gently. “Ruin me.”

A sound so exquisitely angelic rumbles up out of his chest. Deep and primal, but somehow gentle and submissive, like he wants to fall at your feet in veneration of something holy and ancient.

He falls against you, pulling you as close as he can get you, and then draws the scent of your hair in only to feel that much closer. Rocking into you as he slowly comes down and finds himself.

Gathering you in his arms, he lifts you away from the disheveled couch, ignoring you when you protest weakly that you can walk.

A bath is drawn and laced with plain epsom salt to soothe your throbbing muscles. He slips into the steaming water behind you, cradling you as he drags a washcloth over your skin.

Quiet verses of a song you’ve never heard are whispered in your ear as you drift into a light slumber without worry, confident that he will keep your head safe above water.

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year

Text

If you let me show you (Charles Leclerc)

Years later, your's and Charles' hearts are still longing for eachother and, perhaps, it was meant to be all along

Note: english is not my first language.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: past breakup

"As usual, thank you for listening to the podcast", you began closing off the recording for you newest episode of your podcast, taking your headphones off once you were done and your editor gave you her thumbs up, "That was really good, Y/N. I think people will enjoy it a lot", she said as you smiled, proud of how far you got. The idea of creating your own podcast while you finished your degree was just something to keep your mind off of school, despite it being about what you studied since it was something you enjoyed, but it had quickly grown to join other people who, like you, enjoyed the topic. You had gathered a small community that you were very grateful for, especially when it allowed to go to bigger events like TedTalks and sit and talk, as well as meeting them.

Checking your phone for your e-mails, you noticed a new one from someone you had never received anything from before, "what is this...?", you muttered under your breath before letting your finger tap the screen to open it, revealing what looked like an invite to an event, looking at the top to see that you had been sent it a few days ago and, scrolling down, finding out that you had to confirm your attendance until that afternoon, "did you get this?", you showed it to your editor, "nope, but I've heard of other people who come here to record that they've been invited too", she smiled. "Are you plann-", she was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing, an unknown number calling, "yes?", you said, "Hi, this is from Fondation Prince Albert II de Monaco. How have you been, Y/N?", a seemingly kind man on the other side of the line, "Hello, I've been good, and you?", you said as you looked at your editor, "sorry to bother you during the day, but we've had some issues with our communication channels and are not receiving the confirmation from the people who are attending, and we just wanted to confirm wether or not you are joining us for the evening", he said as you panicked opened the e-mail again, checking for more details about this event, "Oh, you're also allowed a plus one, I don't think your e-mail said that due to the glitch we had", he offered as you looked at your editor one last time, her showing you a dinner she had with family on that night, "yes, I can confirm my presence. Just me, no plus one", you said as you heard him type, "Good, thank you! Since our communication channels are not working properly, is it okay if, in case of any new information, I contact you through here?", he asked before you confirmed, bidding eachother a good day and goodbye before ending the call, "this is a very surreal thing", you heard your editor said, now propped by your laptop as she look at the e-mail, telling you all about why they had decided to invite you, your contribution to spreading scientific knowledge in a simple way and accessible to everyone bring the number one reason, "who knew, hm? My weird little podcast about academia getting me t-, oh, wait, this is a red carpet?", you looked further, noticing their dress code advice section, "what did you expect from the Fondation? Some burgers and fries?", she teased you, "I thought it was, like, an intimate thing, small thing. If I'm going to this, who else is?", you mused while your editor only snickered.

After having your friend help you pick a dress worthy of the event, you dropped it at the dry cleaners, which is where you found yourself in the morning of the event, ready to pick it up while the lovely lady went to get it outback when a younger employee asked "I'm sorry, but you are Y/N, from the podcast, right?", she asked as you nodded, "I've heard your voice through these so many times I recognised it almost immediately", she said as she pointed to her earbuds, "I'm very happy that you listen to it", you said as you noticed your dress, clean and ironed being set on the counter, "may I ask what this is for?", she said curiously before who you figured was her grandmother set the bill for you too, "dear, that's not nice for the costumers, sorry about my granddaughter", she half scolded her, "no, don't worry. I'm going to an event tonight because of the podcast", you explained as you paid, smiling before leaving the store and bidding goodbye.

Arriving at home, you tried your best to remember and replicate how Pascale taught you to do your hair, the curls coming out looking like you were from a different era, silently praying they would drop while you fid your makeup. You put one the dress and added your accessories before shaking your curls, moving to put on your shoes and coat just in time for the car they had sent to pick you up and go to the event, "is this your first time?", the driver asked, "yes. Do you notice it that much?", you giggled, "not at all. Just I know I would have recognised you otherwise", he explained, "do you know anyone who is going to be there? It is a big help, so I've heard over the years", he offered, "I don't think so", you mused, "I'm not sure who's invited to be honest", you giggled again, nervous that you should have done your research, "usually actresses and actors, singers too usually, people from non profits, other members of TV shows. Oh, and how could I forget, some drivers usually go too", and it hit you. How did it not hit you before? Charles could be there too, and you not seen him in person in the longest time. Last time you saw him was a few months after you broke up, and it pained you to be in the same room as him, and while you did nothing but be polite to eachother, you couldn't deal with that, somehow always managing to avoid any gathering where he would be. Did you watch his races? Yes, every weekend one had been on you'd take your time no watch it, never breaking your promise and supporting him whenever you could, however you could. Knowing how it would bother you stayed out of anything related to his personal life, only knowing little bits you picked up from interviews and, since he was pretty private, there hadn't been anything related to his relationships, so were you about to know something more? Was he bringing a plus one with him? "Don't need to get nervous, dear, from all my years of this, people are usually very friendly and before you know it, you're already friends", he smiled sweetly, oblivious to the actual relationship you were worried about.

A woman dressed in black guided you on what to to once you arrived, telling you when to stop and pose for some pictures, despite your insistence that 'I'm here for my voice, I don't think people will need to see my face really", giggling and comforting you until you felt comfortable enough, "See?! Stunning, chérie", she smiled before her phone beeped, prompting her to tell her colleague, "Charles is arriving just now, could you go to him, please?", before helping you to the other spot where you would do an interview with someone who also had a podcast that, despite being a bigger creator, treated you with the utmost kindness, "thank you so much for taking some time and giving us your story on getting to where you are today", he said as you shook his hand one last time, thanking him before walking back to the carpet, spotting Charles posing too. And then your heart started doing somersaults, almost like it never stopped doing then anyway.

Charles followed the woman in a black suit as she told him where to stand, smiling in almost all the directions someone called him from before he noticed you, sitting in a high chair with a pair of headphones on your head. Were you here? Your podcast was successful, he knew that much since he contributed, but he did not expect you to be here. How long had it been? Two, maybe three years? You had managed to go to his F2 celebration, just as friends, before, as he now recalled, never setting his eyes on you in another form other than pictures on Instagram or your voice from the podcast episodes.

He was about to head to you when a young fan, who happened to be attending with his parents, asked for his autograph and a picture, "whenever we are home, me and mama and papa watch all your races, you're one of Monaco's pride!", the boy who was no older than ten said excitedly, prompting Charles to open his blazer's button before crouching down to pose with him. Getting up and wishing everyone a good night and event, his eyes looked for you in your emerald green dress, now finding a gentleman in the chair you were sitting previously. Heading inside the venue, he greeted some people before he noticed you looking at something on your phone and confirming it on the indicating plaques, looking a but confused before you looked around and your eyes locked in his, "h- Hi, Charles, Hi!", you said as you greeted him, your movement so automatic that you didn't even think about hugging and pressing a kiss on each cheek of your ex-boyfriend, thankful that he seemed to want to do the same, "Hi, Y/N, how are you?", he said as he looked at you properly. And you looked even more beautiful, despite looking like the same girl he had fallen in love with all those years ago."Are you here alone, too?", you said and immediately wanted to take it back, feeling like you had nothing to do with it, "I'm on my own, yes. C'mon, let's go through here", he said as he guided you on the other way you were thinking of going, leading you to the big room where all the tables were and finding out that the table you'd be sitting in was next to his, "if you need anything, call for me, yes?", he said as he looked for reassurance, "you're going to do great, I just know it".

The evening was beautiful, getting the opportunity to listen to all the projects and ideas people were developing and over all having a good time, and while you enjoyed it, you needed to get some air, excusing yourself from the group and heading to one of the outside gardens, a glass in hand as you took in all that had happened for you to get here. You had never dreamt of this opportunity to come from something as simple as you sharing your thoughts outloud, finding people on the receiving end interested in what you had to say, and to be here was something you still couldn't make out, "may I?", you heard a familiar voice you could recognise anywhere, seeing Charles coming to sit next to you on the stone bench, "it's amazing how many inspiring people are here today, no?", he began, really not knowing how to approach you. You were here alone, so it wasn't like he was crossing a line, he hoped, remembering some conversations he heard in the last group gathering where one of your close friends admitted that you were single still, "and somehow I ended up here, too", you mused before looking at him, his eyes never failing to calm you down and rile your heart up at the same time, "of course you did. Your work is amazing, it's only fair they recognised it", he let slip, "how do you know that?", you quirked your brow as you took a sip from your glass, "I listen to it. Every Thursday I go and look for the new episode", he admitted, "I still don't understand half of the things you defend and explain, but you make it so engaging and, and I miss your voice. I miss you", he said as he looked up at the starry sky before he let his hand crawl along the light stone and nudge yours, your pinkies lacing eachother. You looked at him, a small blush on your cheeks, "thank you, I- I watch all your races too, even the ones that are broadcasted at daft o'clock in Europe", you said before sighing "you know why we did it that way it was", you said, remembering the day you and Charles decided it was for the best that you should go your separate ways.

"I love you so much", Charles said as he held your hands in his, "I love you so much and it is why I think we should do this", he reasoned, although the tears in his eyes, matching your own, reflected the genuine hurt you both knew was dawning on each of you, "I never want to be the one making you hurt, not in a short time or not in a long time", you sniffed, squeezing your eyes further to slow down the tears, "I love you with my whole heart and I'd never want you to hurt, either of us to hurt", you finished as you gave him one last hug, relishing in the feeling of having his arms around you, "you'll always have my heart, Y/N Y/L/N", he said kissing the top of your head, "and it will always be yours to keep".

"Was it really though?", he said, snuffling closer to you while still not touching you more than before even though his skin longed to feel yours, "I don't know, Charles, I really don't know", you said. You didn't like to admit it, but every now and again, you would entertain the thought of what could have been if you had stayed together. How your days could have been if you had him to come home to, or having to travel to races to see him, hear his laughs in person instead of through a screen. It would have been like you had predicted, crazy schedules, long periods away from eachother, but the effort to make it work would have been worth it to have him with you. As you were about to say that to him, you heard heels clicking on the floor, "sorry to interrupt, but the fireworks are going to go off now, I thought you might like to see them", one of the ladies that had helped you in the red carpet said as you both got up, "thanks for letting us know, we'll be up shortly", Charles offered before she walked away while you two followed her, "Would you be willing to come to my place tomorrow?", he asked as he finally laced his fingers in yours for a few seconds, parting when you reached the door, "okay", you said before you were ushered to different places in the crowd.

Arriving home later that evening, you were taking all your makeup off when your phone pinged, seeing a text from Charles, surprised that after all these years he, like you, had kept your number, "Even though we did not spend that much time together today, I know for a fact that I missed having you around and being near you. I hope you have a goodnight's rest", could be read on your screen.

"Thank you for coming here. I would've gone to your place but I didn't know if you wanted me there, and besides, I don't want all the attention that it could draw that way around to you", he said nervously, "No need to rub it in that you're more famous than me, Charles", you teased slightly, wanting to clear up the tension in the room that your nerves were not exactly helping, "I mean it. Thank you for agreeing to come and talk", he said before taking a big breath, "yesterday sparked something in me, and I'm not sure it was a spark again moment, I think this has always been here", he admitted, looking qt you in the hopes of getting you to speak about your take on it, "I-, I felt the same", you gulped, "but can we do this? I think so b-", you were interrupted by him, "all those years ago, we said we wanted to focus on our careers, grow and not have to worry about it. And, while I think it could've been good, there's no way to know that the success we have it due to that. Can you imagine having me next to you on your graduation? Signing your contracts? Because every weekend I imagine you sitting in that hospitality, working on your laptop before coming to watch me race and congratulate me, or be the only person in my driver's room to calm me down after a bad race", he admitted, "I know you don't owe me any of that and if this is one sided then I don't want to make you feel guilty about it, but I needed to let you know", he finished as he looked at you. Sighing, you launched your hand to meet his, "I miss you, and I want to have you with me, to get home and see you there, even if it is only every now and then. But I don't want you to feel guilty that you're not here, or that I feel like I'm not enough", you said and he giggled, "Mon ange, you are more than enough. And I'll be the luckiest man alive if you let me have you in my life again. We'll take things slowly, but please, let us go back to how we were", he pleaded as he saw you smile, "mon coeur, we are going to be better than ever".

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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zedecksiew · 3 months

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BLOGGIES 2023 BEST BLOG POST OF THE YEAR

On 31 January 2024, the tabletop-roleplaying-game community voted for the Best Blog Post Of 2023.

Contenders were drawn from the winners of four categories. Links, as well as their very excellent acceptance speeches---more exhortations and manifestos, really!---found here:

Theory

Gameable

Advice

Review

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Anyway---you voted. Results were very close; I was constantly worried about a tie. Nevertheless, a winner emerged:

Congratulations are in order, and an acceptance speech follows.

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(Like an idiot, I didn't plan for, and therefore didn't have the time to make a bespoke prize for the overall Bloggie winner. So they'll just get a full quadtych of lino prints. Fortunately these don't look too bad together!)

PLATINUM BLOGGIE FOR BEST BLOG POST OF THE YEAR:

🔮Re-inventing the Wilderness: Part 1 - Introduction🔮 from SachaGoat

Sacha:

As an (award-winning) blogger who only started 6 months ago - I want to use this "acceptance speech" to share the 5 steps that will start your blog: 1. You don't need a cool blog name. screenname(dot)blogspot(dot)com is probably available - you can move it later if you think of a cool name. The trick here is to set it up so your ideas can go live as soon as you're happy (or tired of editing). 2. Post something. Dust off your notebook (or note-taking app) and turn those musings into a structured post with paragraphs and context. Don't have anything ready to go? Take your latest game session and write a play report or spotlight a specific moment. This will take less time than your ttrpg prep. 3. Share it! With your gaming group, ttrpg friends, community discords, xwitter/bluesky, reddit, forums etc. 4. Don't worry about the rest. I don't have a fancy blog template. I've yet to compile a sidebar or blogroll. I don't have a newsletter or patreon. 5. Continue. Your readers will contribute with comments. You will be shared in community newsletters. Peers will write posts inspired by your posts. Your ideas will be used at another gaming table. (And if you're lucky, you can win the next BLOGGIES.) If you've shared your prep with a fellow DM… if you've contributed opinions on a ttrpg discord or forum… if you've read a blog post and have a thought that builds on it… if you have any tabletop advice or ideas … 👏 Start 👏 a 👏 blog This finally brings me to the "thanks". Winning the 2023 BLOGGIES is such a wonderful welcome to this creative niche. Many thanks to the creators who encourage the community to blog (especially around June 2023, I can actually see the thread that motivated me to start). I also want to thank a community whose collective enthusiasm and support nudge me to release the next post. And finally, everyone who voted for my post over the amazing nominations this year - a huge thank you.

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On a personal note: I am really thrilled at this final result.

The BLOGGIES can come off as clique-ish. Voting is public, but "public" on the Internet generally means a circle-jerk between subculture friends, a popularity contest.

This thing began as a jokey riff on those best-tweet-of-the-year polls over on Twitter. While Prismatic Wastelands grew it into a celebration of OSR blogging culture, it still has NSR / POSR inclinations---the specific community soil it sprung from.

As host this year I tried to extend the BLOGGIES' reach. Canvassing for nominations outside the OSR space got a couple of indie-RPG designers on the finalists list. Am proud of that; we have much to learn from each other.

I made prizes---hoping that, one day, with enough dangling carrots, these awards will eventually be tasty enough for non-POSR cliques / communities to attempt a takeover? We'll see.

Ultimately: I am glad to water this sapling and watch it grow slowly. Community is made by growing trees, not building greenhouses.

+++

SachaGoat snagging the final win is a vindication.

Sacha's blog is new. We don't share any Discord servers. We've never spoken, hitherto; the first time I messaged him ever was to tell him he'd won the Advice category.

The BLOGGIES fulfils its purpose: to introduce folks to quality blogs; to preach the gospel and importance of blogging. Its shade is spreading.

I'm glad to get to know Sacha and his blog. (Obviously it's been added to my must-read list!) I am honoured to be passing the torch: Sacha has agreed to host BLOGGIES 2024.

Thank you, everybody. Here's to growing trees.

#bloggies2023 #blogs #ttrpgs #community

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simlicious · 4 months

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end-of-year musings

Maybe it'll more be feverish writing because I've come down with a cold that gives me brain fog😭(on the upside, it does not seem to be COVID, the test I did today was negative). This month was a lot, creating the calendar kept me pretty busy throughout the month, but at Christmas, I had time for my loved ones and enjoyed having my sister's family over from England. They are currently staying at my parent's house and I came to visit whenever I was up to it. They even did not mind me being sick and invited me today anyway to spend the afternoon with them. My dad had similar cold symptoms as I have since Christmas, and I think I might have gotten it from him, so they said they are not worried about catching it since they resisted for so long already. Being around family definitely made me feel better! I was really touched by all the messages and love spread around for Simblr Gratitude Day, and reactions to messages I wrote, and I try to continue to spread that positivity whenever I can. I also want to take this opportunity to thank my two amazing Patreon supporters who support me—without the promise of monthly downloads—by showing good faith in me and believing that my projects bear fruit. That means a lot, thank you! I also was able to pay for my website for two years with a successful fundraiser early this year. Thank you so much to everyone who contributed! It means a lot to me to keep it up and running! I get nostalgic thinking about how it started and how I made the final design that I have not changed since then (and couldn't with my current skills😆). But I like that it is a piece of history now, dating back to the era of CC creators such as S-Club and the Ace Creators. Now I will take a bit of time to rest and get better, and who knows, if I get too bored I might continue hanging out with y'all, but maybe that's it for this year and you won't hear from me until the new year. If that's the case, I wish you a "guten Rutsch", as we say in Germany ("slide well" into the New Year)!

#personal

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undreaming-fanfiction · 1 year

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More songfic angst, but this is more canon-compliant...sorry. But this song just fits. Inspired by @strawberryspence's initial post with Steve becoming a musician with dead Eddie as his muse.

Steve Harrington of the Corroded Coffin is known for many types of songs. He sings rock ballads, slower solo things, yells to some old school metal with his bandmates even. He is charismatic, kind, smiles at all his fans and friends, contributes to charities, both with money and his time.

But he's very reserved and no one really understands who he really is, what he is like behind his carefully crafted mask. No matter how many times interviewers ask, he just smiles and deflects. Sometimes mentions his hometown of Hawkins, the mysterious Indiana town that was home to many tragedies and never fully healed from it.

March is a strange month for the Corroded Coffin. It seems that no matter what is happening in the world of music, all the members are simply gone for a few weeks. "Personal reasons", that's what they say.

It isn't until 1996 that the fans learn something about not just Steve Harrington, but all of the Corroded Coffin members. They are all shocked to hear that CC will play at a huge music festival - in March. This is the first time the band members are seen in public on this date and when they walk onto the stage, there is something slightly off about them. Something tense.

Steve clears his throat and looks at his friends, as if seeking their permission. Then he leans into the microphone. "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming. We, uh...we have something different for you today. Something special that we wanted to share because it's...it's time. It's been ten years and thanks to all of you, to your support, we don't need to stay silent anymore. So...we have a new song for you, but it's not just for you. It's for a man we all knew and admired."

He straightens his spine and takes a deep breath, his fingers running restlessly on the red and black guitar he always uses, ten years and this is the only electric guitar he's performed with. "The man we wrote this song for was our friend. He was odd and eccentric, loud and some people found him obnoxious. But he was the bravest, kindest and most creative soul I've ever had the privilege of meeting."

The other Corroded Coffin members are smiling now, a bit pained but smiles nevertheless, nodding to Steve's words. The drummer, Gareth, is clutching his wrist, over a bracelet he never takes off.

"Corroded Coffin was his. He...he should be standing here, in front of you. Not me. The guitar you're asking about all the time? It was his. And while I never had the pleasure of hearing him perform, I've heard he was the best. He got all of the guys together, suggested the name, always hounded them to practice."

Jeff chuckles and shakes his head. "He could be really persuasive."

Steve continues, his voice stronger now. "He loved life more than anything, he found magic in the most mundane of things. He also smoked like a chimney and ate cereal by handfuls, no milk, no bowl." He laughs at this, the wrinkles around his eyes harsh in the stage lights. "He was a menace. But he saved my life and the lives of people dearest to me. He was brave, almost to a fault." Steve's voice drops at this, becomes colder, clearer. "But that's not what the world knows him as. So today, in front of all of you. Let me tell you the story of the man who brought us here - Eddie Munson."

The crowd grows restless now, some people recognizing the name, others blinking in confusion. But Steve presses on, doesn't give them a pause. "Eddie was from our hometown of Hawkins. He failed his senior year twice, but that only shows you that schools don't have it all figured out because that man was smart. There was a series of murders in Hawkins, in March of 1986. And Eddie was blamed for it because...because he liked metal. And Dungeons and Dragons. So of course, in the eyes of our lovely town, he worshipped the devil. He was the weirdo, the outcast, and that was enough to start a manhunt for him."

He turns back to his bandmates, taking in their faces. The paleness, the tightness of their lips. The injustice burns to this day.

"Eddie didn't commit those murders. He was there when they happened, he saw them, but he was paralyzed, terrified. No one should ever see the things he saw. He couldn't have saved anyone then, and we think that's what haunted him. That's...that's why..." His voice breaks down and he shudders, raising his hand at the increasing noise from the audience.

"That's why, when the Red earthquake of 1986 hit Hawkins, Eddie didn't run. He stayed behind. Saved me, my friends...and died for it, knowing he'd be blamed for everything in the end. Like he still is. We pleaded with the police, asking them to reopen his case, to clear his name, but...Eddie was dead. And the story was pretty convenient. They refused to listen or do anything and we felt...helpless. Paralyzed too."

Steve looks directly at the audience now, his voice ringing out over the sudden silence. "But we are done being silent. Thanks to all of you, we have a voice now. We can tell the truth. And the truth is - Eddie Munson was innocent. He died a hero and is still paying price for small town prejudice. So Eddie," he points upwards, to the heaven, "this one is for you. For you and for your uncle who still believes in you to this day, who loves you just as we do."

The song they play makes it to national news. It sparks many controversies, critique, but it can't be silenced, too many people heard it. Radio stations want to play it, along with a summary of Steve's speech.

Eventually, after years and months of silence...Eddie's name is cleared. The public pressure forced the Hawkins PD to reveal they had nothing tying Eddie to the murders, no direct evidence. It feels like too little, too late, but it's at least something.

And in a new trailer in Hawkins, Wayne Munson sits on his couch, clutching a tape case in his fingers and listens to the song that brought his boy's voice back.

Two packs of cigarettes a day The strongest whiskey Kentucky can make That's a recipe To put a vagabond on his hands and knees I watched it all up close I knew him more than most I saw a side of him, he never showed Full of sympathy For a world that wouldn't let him be

That's the man he was Have you heard enough?

What a shame, what a shame To judge a life that you can't change The choir sings, the church bells ring So, won't you give this man his wings? What a shame, to have to beg you to see We're not all the same What a shame

There's a hard life for every silver spoon There's a touch of grey for every shade of blue That's the way that I see life If there was nothing wrong Then there'd be nothing right And for this working man, they said, could barely stand There's gotta be a better place to land Some kind of remedy For a world that wouldn't let him be

That's the man he was Have you heard enough?

God forgive the hands that laid you down They never knew how Much your broken heart can break the sound And change the season Now the leaves are falling faster Happily ever after You gave me hope through your endeavors And now you will live forever

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie drabble #yeah one-sided because Eddie is dead but guess what Steve loves him #angst #corroded coffin #gareth emerson #steddie songfic #eddie munson song rec #yeah more shinedown #and I have one more in mind #at this point I have a full shinedownverse #Spotify

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hillsfms · 7 days

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NOTICE OF CLOSURE**

To begin with we’d like to start this note with thanking everyone for your ongoing patience over the last week or so. We know how much so many of you find this a safe space and have held on and waited, it’s much appreciated. We're very sorry it took a while to get a statement out, figuring out the right thing to do, taking into account how many of you are still active here with ongoing plots - it took us a while to figure out the best approach. We should have kept you posted though, and we are sorry for that.

Due to various commitments and responsibilities in our personal lives, our schedules have become increasingly demanding - leaving us unable to give the role-play the attention it deserves. Therefore, we have made the decision to close.

We want to extend our deepest thanks to each and every single one of you who has contributed to this community. Your creativity in plotting, passion with your muses and friendships made have all contributed to what made Hills such a great community to be a part of. Whilst this may be a goodbye for now, we hope to return in the future with a fresh start and a revamped experience once our schedules clear and allow us to give the community the attention it deserves. All of your love has been a massive driving force, and we’re eager to reunite with you when that day comes - please keep an eye on the main for when we can return.

Thank you all for being a part of our community, we all really hope to see you again in the future. We really want to keep in touch with you all, and for that reason have made a community server. Please join if you'd like to stay in contact, we'd really love to see you all here - just click this link to join.

lots of love, your admins.

#hillsadmin

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ladybugsimblr · 1 year

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simshaderoom In case you missed it, we have the tea from tonight's Starlight Accolades! Surprisingly #Bailey Kay had no nominations for Butterfly despite it being number one on the SimHeartRadio charts. She wasn't even in town for the ceremony, disappointing fans who were hoping she would at least make an appearance or possibly perform. The big winner of the night was #Dizzy Des who called BK one of his muses and thanked her for her hard work and contributions to his album and career! Interesting... Not everyone was celebrating though. Our fave roomie #D-Lo was so upset that he walked out of the ceremony during Dizzy's speech. He is usually a winner at these events, but left empty handed. Maybe his reign is also coming to an end? The drama! Thoughts?

d-lo 😡We were both robbed!! The disrespect! #StillWinning #InRealLife #Still #ButterflySeason #Vybez # Forever

rubberbandshan Disappointed?! Never that! BK does not care about an award. She already has plenty and has a whole star on the boulevard! She is living her best life!! You won't break her soul! Not even gonna address the desperate dumb dizziot elephant in the room.

kingb They keep playing in our Queen’s face. I can’t remember the last time she won. I’m so over the Starlight Academy! We should boycott.

anon OK I’m just gonna say it. How does she expect to win an award when she’s done nothing to promote the album? We haven’t seen a real music video or performance since Butterfly dropped. She is literally on vacation or whatever. Who does that when you just put out new music?

bkstan Who does that?!?! The Queen B! She’s THAT GIRL.

skyeisthelimit No promotion?! Did you miss the whole sold out Butterfly Box frenzy? Just say you’re salty because you couldn't get a box and move on.

c.spiracy I kinda have to agree with anon. This rollout seems a little strange. Maybe she’s not into it anymore. Do you think she was forced to put music out? They probably replaced her with a clone and that’s why things are off.

bflyhive 😑 Anyway. BK doesn't have time for a little awards show. I know she is preparing for an epic tour. Hive, you better stay ready!

notthesameanon Looks like the saying "Any press is good press" only worked out for Dizzy. Sorry, BK. I know she is pissed she ever connected with him.

dizzydes Who has the winning team now? 😉 Bad Kid Entertainment will be waiting for the Queen to come back to her real home.

rubberbandshan @simshaderoom You really have to do something about the pest problem you have in the comments. Call an exterminator expeditiously. Meanwhile we will enjoy the music BK has kindly shared with us and flourish in the fact that she is looking so happy lately! Please and thank you!

#this is exactly why bk is running away on vacation #always some shenanigans #bklegacy #bklgen2 #bailey kay #simshaderoom #rubberbandshan

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upper-sixth-fanclub · 16 days

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Has your muse ever felt torn between what their society / culture expects from them and their moral values? What did they decide to do about it?

Has your muse ever faced any kind of discrimination or oppression for an aspect of themselves that they cannot change? How has this experience shaped their attitude toward that aspect of themselves? Have they ever perpetuated any kind of discrimination or oppression against others, whether unintentionally or deliberately?

Hello, thank you for the ask. I appreciate your patience as I saved this one; it helpfully serves to recalibrate my muses.

CW for child sex work, child assault, sexual assault mention, and ableism.

Classic Literature Asks

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn: Has your muse ever felt torn between what their society / culture expects from them and their moral values? What did they decide to do about it?

Absolutely. Ume's tragic death was because her job's expectations were in conflict with the morals that Gyutaro raised her with. We're left with the vague story that Ume assaulted a samurai, but I'm sure a lot of people got the impression of Ume resisting sexual assault, leading up to her stabbing the guy's eye out. I think there's also room for interpretation, but even if she was strong-arming or demanding payment up front or whatever, that doesn't erase the fact she's a child sex worker. She was vulnerable to societal expectations and had little autonomy over her situation: I think whether Gyutaro had taught her to live that way or not, she loves him enough to idolize and mimic his behavior anyway. She was doomed to take action, and doomed to be targeted for it.

Gyutaro's way of defying societal expectations was to lean into the bit until it broke. After a childhood of being kicked around and abused, Gyutaro knew he was expected to just suffer and die. It was when Ume was born that he felt he needed to stay alive, and of course, her beauty made him feel a vicarious pride because he suddenly 'had' something that everyone else could want. (Classic time-appropriate misogyny.) I think his violence and aggression as retribution was inevitable, given it was all he knew. He was treated like trash, and so he came out trashy and messy and mean. Sort of an inverse of Ume, who wasn't expected to be violent, and so the price she paid for her actions was much steeper than Gyutaro faced.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Has your muse ever faced any kind of discrimination or oppression for an aspect of themselves that they cannot change? How has this experience shaped their attitude toward that aspect of themselves? Have they ever perpetuated any kind of discrimination or oppression against others, whether unintentionally or deliberately?

Points directly at Gyutaro. I know I harp on and on about the stigma of sex related diseases IN the field of sex work, especially the stigma against those with syphilis. Gyutaro's mother was likely the target of a lot of this discrimination too, as workers with syphilis were seen as dirty and immoral, which contributed to her lashing out on her own son, because how dare he be the living embodiment of her problems. It was a structural issue of hurting the people who needed help, and Gyutaro was absolutely oppressed by a form of ableism.

Obviously, this made him hateful and twisted. And while everyone has varying headcanons as to how much he cares about his appearance, I'm always a fan of uncertain sensitivity, as if he's only JUST wading into his low self-esteem, but hasn't really delved into the why and how. It still bothers the hell out of him, but he pretends it doesn't by using his 'ugliness' as his weapon. That's where he was mentally when he died, and where he stubbornly refuses to move from. He had nobody but Ume to confide in-- and even his vulnerabilities weren't really addressed, given their mutual worldview of beauty as power.

In this way, he perpetrated his own discrimination too: by validating the way he was treated and resenting it at the same time, by minimizing all of it to 'those who take win, the bullies are the winners,' he trapped himself in an unwinnable mindset. He can't reflect on himself as anything but a loser-turned-winner, because being a victim of all that doesn't matter to him now that he's attained power for himself and Daki.

I think this same argument can apply to Daki as a sex worker, too. At first, it was the only career path really available to her, given their location and status in life. And as a vulnerable kid, it's unlikely she WASN'T exploited for the gain of others. Women and children as property is still a mindset that's being deconstructed today, so I love that she told Zenitsu so blatantly that especially in the Entertainment District, people ARE products to her. She's a classic example of perpetrating further oppression; now that she's a demon, she could choose to do ANYTHING and her brother would go along with it. But she chose to become an oiran and to keep the human populace under her heel, hurting women and children the same ways she was once hurt.

#gyutaro #gyutaro headcanons #daki #daki headcanons #mod gyutaro

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anomalyhqs · 4 months

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ATTENTION STUDENTS,

it’s with a heavy heart that the admod team has decided to put ANOMALYHQS ON AN INDEFINITE HIATUS. with the recent dip in activity and the admin team’s increasing real life commitments, we have decided that this is a good time for us to come to a close. we understand that it is really sudden, but we hope you understand our reasons! it’s been such a wonderful run with your lovely muses, and we appreciate all the effort you’ve put into interacting with our events. we had so much reading how all of your stories unfolded! we’d like to also apologise to everyone who interacted with or were enthusiastic about the sporting rally as we were not able to see this event through to the end. although the directory is closing its doors, please feel free to continue on with the muses and threads that you have! we’re so appreciative of everyone who stopped by and contributed to anomalyhqs, and we hope to meet each of you again one day! thank you and as always, stay super! ♡

#nm:announcement

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xerith-42 · 3 months

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Thanks for posting about Gaza, it’s nice to see people using their platforms to help. May I please have some Araphel/shadow lord angst ? 😉😉 Also thanks for the shadow knight angst.

First of all, I'm glad I was able to use my platform to help, even as small of a contribution as it is.

Second of all, I am always happy to deliver my musings about Araphel, the pathetic little man. Part of what I love about him is that I truly believe he was once a good person. In fact, I imagine that he was a rather good person until he got his relic, and even then, he couldn't have been terrible for that long, otherwise Irene wouldn't have put up with him.

I feel like this is the point where I should clarify that I literally forgot the entire plot point of all the other relic holders dying and reincarnating a bunch while Irene remained alive. In my brain they still do reincarnate, but not nearly as often, and the relics prolong their lives pretty significantly regardless. And I don't think Araphel ever reincarnated, I think he just persisted living far longer than Irene wanted to deal with and every time she saw him he was less and less of the man she once knew.

A man who, while still prone to his vices, was an ultimately kind person. A natural born leader who met Irene while she was traveling in search of other relic holders. He wasn't one at the time, but she did have her hands on the relic of the destroyer, one she was hesitant to give to anyone. She needed someone she could trust with this power. And despite a seemingly normal meeting between the leader of a small collective and some traveler, the two quickly became far more than strangers to one another. I see their relationship as one that happened hard and fast.

The world wasn't kind before the Divine Warriors. People already die all the time in Ru'aun after them, imagine how bad it was before magic was a widespread thing. The average life expectancy is lucky if you make it to thirty, and Araphel was already approaching that number. Thus they fell for one another, as if they'd always known each other, existing in one another's arms like it was all that mattered. For Irene, she had someone to truly confide in who would listen to her at her worst moments free of judgement. And for Araphel, it was like his arms were the arms the world was held in.

Irene was everything to him. She was everything in general. She was a healer in a broken world full of dying people, and out of everyone she could have chosen to be her lover, she chose him. A simple man with a big heart. She chose him. She bound the relic of the destroyer to him because she had seen nearly every emotion a man could display when she was with him, she knew he could be trusted. She knew he loved her and would fight by her side.

Araphel once wore his heart out on his sleeve. It was part of what drew Irene to him, a foolhardy man who doesn't know how not to express himself, in spite of the dangers and horrors of the world around him. She trusted him. And as their relationship fell apart, as things deteriorated due to Esmund being a bitch about things, due to dark magic pulling on his vices, and due to the destructive nature of his relic, she lost that trust. And yet, in spite of everything, he still trusted her. He anticipated the other warriors turning against him, but he didn't anticipate Irene helping their cause. He still trusted her.

These phrases are often heard in mutterings from his weakened state, or even in a Shadow Knight's calling if applicable. "I trusted her." "I loved her." "She was the world." "I trusted her." "She left me to die." "Did she even love me at all?"

Any time something like that is said in the mind of a Shadow Knight, ESPECIALLY A CERTAIN SOMEONE, it's very likely that Araphel is deliberately making these thoughts worse, fueling the fire of his undead puppets with his own malice. Irene was everything to him when they were young foolish lovers sharing blissful kisses in a field of flowers under the light of the sun, and Irene is still everything to him as he actively rots in the hell she threw him into.

#minecraft diaries #text post #aphblr #aphverse #mcd headcanons #answering asks #anon ask #araphel the realm breaker #shad the destroyer #divine warriors #irene the matron #does this count as a council post?#probably not?#but I'd like to hear the councils thoughts on it #I'm just gonna tag it and leave it up to the machinations of fate #jury of redesign

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findroleplay · 5 months

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Greetings. 28 yo writer seeking 21+ writers to write against my male oc.

Genre: Sci fi, drama/romance

Pairing: mxf - ocxoc

Additional info: adv lit, highly detailed, dark themes, high angst, mature content and subjects, use of vulgar language and intense violence. NSFW will not be the focus but will be included when it feels right and necessary.

This requires writers who are comfortable character/world building and creating unique exciting aspects.

About the OC:

He is a biologically engineered human who was once created with the intention of being used a weapon of war upon maturity. But his creators decide to spare their successful creation and formulate a plan to save the human before the government is able to step in.

The plot however will be set in present modern time, just as he reaches his 24th birthday. He knows little about his past but has managed to piece some notion of what his use was. He later learns there are others like him and that the government has initiated a hunt for his kind.

I’m seeking a writing partner who perhaps bring on a oc that could serve as an interesting love interest but also a character that will help support the development of his humanness and emotions - as he seems to lack both in some ways.

I’m eager to find someone with a unique perspective and capable of contributing their own style and ideas to this. Also, welcome the use of unconventional realistic muses for these characters, perhaps even would love a poc to play against my character, as I don't see that enough. Of course I’ve established the appearance of my oc already and also have fleshed out more details on him and his bg that can be further discussed.

Interact with post and I’ll shoot you a message. Thanks everyone. 😌

#rp #roleplay #oc rp #original rp #fandomless rp #sci fi rp

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orionsangel86 · 7 months

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Sandtober Days 13, 14, and 15 - Your art for the prompts "Lovely Ladies", "Castle", and "God Forbid a Woman do Anything"

Sorry I've been a bit late on providing these summary posts for the past few days, life has been getting in the way! But thank you so much to everyone still contributing to this Sandtober challenge. I am in awe of all your art and creations!

Prompt List

First here are some late submissions for previous prompts:

Please go read this lovely fic for day 4 "fae" which I cannot WAIT to read by @rey-jake-therapist

The Sigils of the Endless for day 5 "sigils" by @ilyasfanart

Dream and Hob at a Ball for day 11 "fashion/costumes" by @parasocialite

Desire of the Endless for day 12 "red" by @murphyoftheendless

Dream of the Endless for day 11 "fashion/costumes" by @murphyoftheendless

Dream of the Endless for day 1 "Dream" by @handhourgalleries

Dream Mourns Orpheus for day 12 "red" by @crystal46uwu

Day 13 - Lovely Ladies

Butterfly Delirium by @murphyoftheendless

Despair of the Endless by @missingrache

Calliope by @the-cloudy-dreamer

Death, Gault, Calliope, and Lushing Lou by @merinsedai

The Hecate by @mathomhouse-e

Gault and Lucienne by @mashumaru

A Haiku for the Muses by @writing-for-life

The Hecate and Dream's Castle by @klarahimmeltheendless

Day 14 - Castle

Dream's Castle by @murphyoftheendless

Hob Gadling's Castle by @mathomhouse-e

A Haiku for Dream's Castle by @writing-for-life

Dream and Hob visit the Castle by @timesorceror

The "Fuck-Off" Castle by @missingrache

Dream's Castle by @merinsedai

The Hecate and Dream's Castle by @klarahimmeltheendless

Day 15 - God Forbid a Woman Do Anything

Delirium of the Endless by @murphyoftheendless

Dream and Nuala by @mathomhouse-e

A Haiku for Nada by @writing-for-life

Jessamy the Raven by @missingrache

Johanna and Dream by @merinsedai

Dream and Klara by @klarahimmeltheendless

Thank you so much again to everyone who participated! Please remember to tag #sandtober2023 (No spaces!) to ensure that I can find and reblog your submissions or you can tag me as well.

Yesterday prompt was "angel" and todays prompt is "demon" and I've loved what I have seen so far!

Happy Creations! :)

#sandtober2023 #the sandman #day 13: lovely ladies #day 14: castle #day 15: God Forbid a Woman Do Anything #sandman inktober challenge

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sarahsartedits · 2 years

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Day 5 of roxiri week “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now”

After a long day of hanging out on destiny islands with everyone mostly everyone has went home for the day Roxas decides to hang back with Kairi since he doesn’t want to go home right now, finds out it’s the closest to heaven he may ever see. Kairi, still in shock he wanted to continue to hang out decides this must be her heaven too.

As they sit the sun becomes peach Roxas has never been on a swing before, and it looks a bit dangerous “this coming from someone who sits on a clocktower a lot ” kairi muses as she promises it’s safe. Riku built it. That doesn’t seem to help ease him but it seems kairi’s soft touches seems to soothe his worries.

It’s getting later & Roxas kisses her lovingly on the forehead so she doesn’t forget him when he going back home. As Kairi hopes he doesn’t forget her as they’re both worry over being left behind or self consciously hopes the other sees them more than “useless” or a “carbon copy” *coughs* @whatsupfluff 😉

A big thank you to the lovely & talented @ignightroad for her contribution of whipping this up for me to share on roxiri week it’s so gorgeous with warm beach colors completely my vision for the small storyline that incorporated the song lyric I had running around in my head these past several months. Roxiri is just precious & very nostalgic for me, im absolutely thrilled I now have a roxiri piece to add to my other art comms collection it’s stunningly gorgeous.

Finally to my roxiri shippers especially @starrattlerofprydain I love the love & attention you all give to roxiri on here especially on tumblr where rare pairs seem to thrive at. It’s nice to see more roxiri stuff every year including what I am able to contribute. Hope everyone continuing to have a beautiful roxiri week. @roxaskairi @eradicatetehnormal @skytsunrose @a-kh-fan-with-aus @alphascorpiixx @twfated @yume127 @dogoncabrera @twilight-blaze

#kingdom hearts #roxas #kh roxas #kairi #roxiri #rokukai #kh kairi #kairi kingdom hearts #roxas x kairi #roxas kingdom hearts #ignightroad #do not repost #tay’s art #roxiriweek2022 #rokukaiweek2022 #kh fanart #art commissioned by me

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

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Hello oooh friend! I live your Writing SO much, and I know you have a packed October, but I just had to ask while the idea was fresh in my mind:

IF you have the bandwidth, could you do a little ficlet with Kili x Reader? Everyone always characterizes him as the dumb one, ranging from slightly derpy to downright himbo. But I headcanon that he's not actually dumb, just VERY YOUNG (by Dwarven standards), inexperienced, and a little naive. Could you write something in which he finally gets fed up with the teasing/stereotype, and decides to prove to his (femme Reader) love that he's not as dumb as everyone thinks he is?

Hugs and kisses!

First of all, thank you very much 🙈

That means a lot to me...Well, of course, it was my pleasure to whip something up for dear Kíli :D

Redemption

Words: 1,1k

Warnings: None

Kíli knew that he was often and quite easily dismissed by his peers; there was neither hatred nor malicious disdain in their instinctive lack of faith in him, but it left an aching void in his heart nonetheless to know that his youth and good cheer were interpreted in his disfavour.

Born and raised in times of uncertainty and desolation, he had done his best not to contribute to his mother and uncle's sempiternal worries and fears; thankfully, he had been blessed with a sunny nature and a seemingly indefatigable inclination for hope and optimistic faith and so, he faced even the darkest of days with unerring good humour.

He certainly made it easy for others to regard him as frivolous or even dumb, but Kíli was fiercely aware of his role and usefulness within his household: he was the younger brother, the only one Fíli – heir to the throne and golden son – could turn to when the weight of a mountain they their people had not seen in many a year became too heavy to bear even on his broad, strong shoulders, and he was proud of his place in the grand scheme of things.

Yes, Kíli knew what was expected of him and he held on to the brittle fibre of sunlight, his devoted trust in his family and their designs, in the endless, voracious obscurity of a potentially cruel fate.

When he heard the person he loved and cherished most in this world – besides his own family – laugh along quietly in reply to yet another disrespectful, contemptuous comment about his surmised stupidity and incompetence though, his heart gave a painful throb.

“We need those plants,” Óin interrupted the banter resolutely, “and I don’t care who goes and with whom.”

“I’ll go,” this other voice Kíli so cherished replied softly, “and I’d be honoured to take the young prince with me. He’ll protect and entertain me well, no doubt.”

As you turned the corner, you saw a shadow flitting along the high walls of the corridor and stopped abruptly; both the elegance and the speed of the retreating figure were highly unusual for a dwarf and, for a moment, you wondered who would be able to move so gracefully.

Shaking your head to dispel such useless musings, you made your way to Prince Kíli’s quarters to ask him if he would agree to accompany you on a dangerous trip that would lead you far out of the safe confines of the settlement. Kíli, you knew, often enjoyed a challenge and an adventure and you were growing increasingly fond of the idea of being alone with him in the woods for some time, far away from the vicious tattle-tales and the unceasing duties of court life.

“Sure,” Kíli exclaimed as soon as the question was put to him and, even if his cheeriness felt just a tad forced on this fine morning, you couldn’t help the surge of relief and joy flooding your system at this moment.

After he had packed hastily and sparsely, Kíli all but dragged you down the corridor to the library, a wicked sparkle in his eyes.

“What are we doing?” you asked for you had expected to leave as soon as possible.

“I know the best way to find a good spot where Óin’s blasted plant grows in abundance,” Kíli explained and extricated a long, flat piece of wood from a hidden crevice to wedge it under the door of a private office to lift it enough so it wouldn’t creak upon being swung open. “I thought we might amend one of Ori’s maps. He’s been complaining for months about that.”

With a wink, he went on, “Moreover, I don’t know if he’s told you, but the rotten growth has a terrible smell. We’re going to nab one of Fíli’s leather satchels; he gets tons of them as gifts from crafters and merchants who seek his patronage.”

You blinked slowly; far from believing your friend an idiot, you had nevertheless never expected him to be this knowledgeable about botany, geography, and the intricate workings of the court.

“People blab at me,” he smiled gently but not without a hint of bitter sharpness upon seeing your dumbfounded expression, “because they don’t think that I am listening. More often than not, they see me as a mere pebble, but I do listen.”

He tapped the side of his nose with a conspiratorial wink that did not fully dissimulate his frustration; he was a prince of the realm, the son of a wise dam, and the nephew of our present king after all, and his youth was by no means an excuse to disregard him so cavalierly as some dwarrows apparently were in the habit of doing.

Quickly and efficiently, Kíli snuck through cleverly veiled, secret passages into all the rooms he had meant to visit and soon, you were on your merry way to the hidden meadow he had in mind.

It flabbergasted you how he had managed to simply turn himself almost invisible; he usually radiated such intense joy and was surrounded by so bright a halo of laughter and jokes that his silent grace turned him into a lethal ghost, ducking effortlessly through the milling throng of busy dwarves who were just going about their day without paying either one of you any heed.

“Expertly done,” you praised, a little breathlessly, when he finally spread his arms out wide to draw your attention to the clearing overflowing with the rare medicinal herb you had set out to find.

“You’ll find that I am less of a fool than you might think,” he muttered dejectedly, combing one thick-fingered hand through his dark, wavy hair in dismay.

“I do not believe you to be any such thing,” you protested, “but I must admit that I am awed by how well you’ve planned and executed this mission. I might have spent days on end gathering enough of this truly distasteful plant without your valuable help.”

This made a generous grin blossom on his youthful face and – cupping your cheeks in his hands – he pressed a small kiss onto your nose as if to encourage it not to leap off your face in outrage and vexation.

“Let’s get this over with and spend the night in another spot I know well,” he chirped, back to his usual cheerful self. “I can show you more of my impressive skills that you might have overlooked in your single-minded admiration of my pretty face.” He grinned mischievously and started carefully and skilfully harvesting the abominably smelly leaves.

Laughing quietly, you followed him without answering but – deep within your heart – you admitted that you were more than just a little curious about what wonders and miracles he’d let you witness later that evening.

I hope this has redeemed Kíli (and me, for I tend to write him as rather immature lol)

Lots of love from me <3

#fanfiction #bonus story #Kíli #Kíli x reader #Kíli x GN reader #Kíli is not dumb #the hobbit #dwarves #stinky herbs as well

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