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alastors-antlers · 3 months

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Why Alastor is good aroace rep after all, written by an aroace

Hello all! I just want to start off this post by saying that I'm one person who definitely doesn't speak for all aroaces, but I wanted to make a post on this anyway, and maybe some folk would be interested in hearing out another perspective?

I'm not really caught up on everything that's been said over the course of HH's creation - only more recent interviews, since I'm pretty new to the fandom. Apologies if I've missed anything, but also I do not have the time to keep up with all the out-of-canon-material backstory unfortunately. I'm working with what we've got here.

So here's the thing:

Alastor is cruel, he's narcissistic, he doesn't care about anyone except himself, he's a serial killer and a monster.

(That's the argument I've heard - please tell me if that's not really what people are going for lol, in which case I've totally misunderstood?)

The issue with aroace rep when it paints asexual people with those traits is that it aims to dehumanizes them. Sex and love are essential to the human experience, right? So why wouldn't someone be interested? Because they're self-absorbed, and cold, and detached. They don't have the capacity to love others enough to feel romance.

And sure, Alastor is a killer, and a schemer, and prideful, and a monster by hell's standards. But no matter how above it all and stylish and in control and provocative he wants to be, he's a very human character, and his aroace-ness never serves to add to his alienation. You could even say that it makes him seem even more personable.

That's what I think is the key difference.

why he's human

Alastor's whole persona is about control, and he basically straight-up says this. He's controlling what his enemies know, what his public image is like. His goal is to be the Radio Demon -- overlord of Hell, charismatic, Machiavellian, and undefeatable. He's not. Despite that smile plastered over his face (a powerful tool, huh) he's so expressive for someone who's constantly pretending.

You see his exasperation with the Egg Bois and with Charlie's ranting; his nervousness in front of Zestial; his frustration with Lucifer and the petty lengths he goes to to piss off the ruler of Hell.

You see his desperation, making that deal with Charlie. He's surprised by the idea of being vulnerable in front of an enemy like Adam, and so close to danger. He drops the radio filter and the affect out of fear, and runs on broadcast TV to let out panic and anger and bitterness in his hideout, where no one else can see him.

He has a smile that tells us he's genuinely happy to see someone; it's a little wider than his default. You see it with Mimzy's greeting, you see it with Rosie. Rosie, especially, serves to make Alastor more human to the audience. More on this later, but for now, I'm just saying that you can see that he at least seems to respect her greatly. Whatever bond they have, we know that he trusts her to touch him, to share history with him, and with support that he trusts no one else for.

He pretends, but he can't pretend it all away. Loads of these emotions aren't even advantageous for him to show. It isn't necessarily how the typical asexual psychopath acts; he's not emotionless or only capable of anger or brutality.

He's so full of emotion that it leaks through, despite all that he does to avoid it. He's not inhuman and aloof, not really - he's so, so human, even when he tries not to be because he thinks that'll be what keeps him above all the rest. In control, and free from his chains.

(If anyone wants to see images about all this, I'll make a separate post - just let me know.)

(I also have another post, talking about why Alastor is at least a little attached to the hotel's residents too, shown via conversation with Niffty. In what way? different question.)

how the aroace part contributes to that

Now, to be fair, we don't hear much about his aroaceness in canon. It's just not relevant a lot of the time.

In the pilot, Angel's proposition ruffles his feathers so much that Alastor blanks for a moment. It's a joke, sure, but that ace panic face is a pretty popular Alastor moment in the fandom - Alastor, thrown off-balance by a sex joke of all things, after so many years in Hell that he should probably be used to this.

It's a moment that makes him more approachable; his aroaceness shows him unprepared for something someone else does for one of the only real moments in the whole episode.

And the other part: the ace in the hole statement.

Rosie apparently knows Alastor so well that she read that he's aroace. That tells us about their relationship; namely, that it is long-standing and genuine enough that she gleaned a piece of real information from him. It's a casual fact that she knows about him before he even figured it out himself. It lends legitimacy to their bond - this bond that shows us a more comfortable and warm side of Alastor that we don't often see.

If their relationship is purely business, isn't this something pretty frivolous and personal? It's not like he has anything to gain by telling her about his life, but she learned about it somehow. How close are they? That's where it adds a layer of complexity and personality to his character..

thoughts on representation

Overall, Alastor's an interesting character who has a level of depth and care and personality (outside of cruelty) that asexual psychopath tropes lack. Again, the moments where he's being represented as disinterested in sex or romance don't make him seem detached. Again, they don't say "look how hostile toward relationships his behaviour is - how separate he is from our humanity". That's what bad villain ace rep is. That's not what the show's doing.

Also: I'm not saying that we need to lower our standards or anything, but even if you think it's not the best rep, I feel like we should be supporting HH's efforts here. I know that on Tumblr we have a pretty queer-friendly space going, which is honestly an understatement lol but

Aces are incredibly underrepresented in fiction. There's a whole Wikipedia page about asexual characters in media, and it's short as all hell, and even if you consider what's on there you see quite a number of one-off characters who are never mentioned again.

In terms of real life business - before the DSM updated their definition of hypoactive sexual desire disorder (HSDD) in 2013, identifying as asexual wasn't even a recognized thing. If you talked to a clinician about your lack of sexual desire, you could be diagnosed with a disorder. Only in the 5th edition do we now have a little exclusion footnote about it.

The concept of asexuality hasn't been explored nearly as much as other queer identities in our scientific research. We get crumbs in terms of mainstream representation and understanding. House M.D. has an episode where House "disproves" us because he's just so smart.

Alastor isn't going to be perfect representation. There's no such thing as perfect representation, and from the moment he was conceptualized, you could see how people would take him poorly. Still, I think he's a net positive.

He isn't a side character or a token ace - he's a core part of the show, whose personality and character motivations we can reasonably presume are going to be explored much more deeply in upcoming season(s). He's loved by the fandom. Right now, given what we know, I trust Vivziepop to write the aroace representation he deserves, because with the way I've heard the cast/directing/etc. talk about him, they're trying to do the aroace community justice, so I wish people would let up just a little on the whole "Alastor is bad rep".

Let's give him a chance, all right?

#hazbin hotel #aroace alastor #alastor analysis #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel spoilers #asexual #asexuality #hazbin alastor meta #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #alastor #hazbin meta #hazbin analysis

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thecuddlycauldron · 1 month

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🔮🍄🦋☁🦋🍄🔮

Essence

🔮🍄🦋☁🦋🍄🔮

My name is Willow (inn nii skii akk) and I am an Indigenous woman living on the rez with my husband! I have been practicing magick for about 15 years.

I am a constantly evolving and growing eclectic witch! While I am always trying new things and excited to learn, I stick to my roots and my culture as that’s where I feel safe, happy, and most at home. These parts of me are very sacred and I like to keep certain practices between my husband and I.

I’m here because along the lines of what I’ve said, I want to expand my knowledge and branch out in new ways. I’m excited to help other people where I can!

🀧｡🕯☾˖⋆🔮⋆˖☾🕯｡🀣

Stuff I do

🀧｡🕯☾˖⋆🔮⋆˖☾🕯｡🀣

I do single card readings, from both my tarot decks and my oracle decks. I will get back to you within one week ideally. At the bottom of this post I have a list of what decks I work with, so you can request which one you are drawn to, or it’s fine if I choose something for you too! Within four days I’ll strive to have your reading done and send it to you in the messages here (post it if you’re on anon) with a picture of your card included. Please remember, I work full time in the harm reduction field and that will always be first priority.

My readings are not meant to tell you what to do, by any means! I would just like to offer a fresh perspective and help you to look at things from another side using my life experiences, my cultural beliefs and my own interpretations. I strive to be accurate but believe in keeping things as positive as possible, as I’ve learned the cards always want the best for you. So while you may sometimes hear something you don’t want to, remember there is a reason.

Information you can send me for your reading (Optional): First name/initials, your zodiac sign, first name/initials and zodiac of however else is involved.

♡ I will always do your readings with the same compassion and empathy that I have been lucky enough to receive. ♡

୭🌱♡-⋆｡˚🍄-𓄹-˚ ୭🌱♡-⋆｡˚🍄-𓄹-˚

EVERY CHILD MATTERS

I do have a “tip jar” set up, so if you enjoy your reading please donate what you can as all of it will go to the Orange Shirt Society, which raises awareness about survivors of residential/boarding schools as well as promotes healing of Indigenous peoples and nationwide reconciliation. This is a cause dear to my heart and which has affected my family. It’s very appreciated if you’re able to donate but remember, there is no pressure to do so! I will never ask nor expect tips for any of the work I do here.

୭🌱♡-⋆｡˚🍄-𓄹-˚ ୭🌱♡-⋆｡˚🍄-𓄹-˚

Please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments or concerns, I’d be happy to help ♡

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚. ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Tarot cards: Nicoletta Ceccoli’s deck; Dreaming Cat Tarot; Luna's My Melody Tarot; Luna’s Cinnamoroll Tarot

Oracle cards: Gentle Creatures Wisdom Deck by Dan May; Fantastic Being Manifestation Deck by Rebecca Lefebvre; Universal Folk Oracle by Anita Inverarity; Love Your Inner Goddess by Alana Fairchild

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thatbanditqueen · 7 months

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Little Blue Toes

An Elvis-o-Ween 2023 One-shot

A response to the writing prompt "Fall or Halloween".

Comments, concerns and feedback very much appreciated!

like @be-my-ally I sat down to write this today and it got lengthy and I decided to publish it raw....

This is my first time writing from Elvis' perspective, and my first time delving into the supernatural genre... But I just had no idea how to write this story from any other perspective. I was very inspired by the amazing work @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll did a few weeks ago writing from Elvis' pov.

Big thanks to my elvis coven @ellie-24 @vintageshanny @whositmcwhatsit @missmaywemeetagain @arrolyn1114 @from-memphis-with-love @lookingforrainbows for their help and support in the fic writing world....

This story is very loosely based on Scotty Moore's history of this show where Elvis reportedly stomped off after four songs and skipped the evening gig.

Summary: It is the summer of 1955, and Elvis and his band are back on a grueling tour schedule. Their first stop out of Memphis is Batesville, AR. The crowd is not kind, the venue is uncomfortable, and so Elvis decides to take off and make his own trouble. Along the way, he comes across a young women who is having an equally bad afternoon, and they find that spending the rest of the day in each other's company might be just the solace they were searching for.

WC: 5.8 K

Warnings: Minors DNI, smut, supernatural elements, coarse language. Typos....

Happy Elvis-o-Ween.......

4 p.m. Saturday August 6, 1955

River Stadium, Batesville, Arkansas

Elvis looked back over his shoulder at where Scotty stood, watching as the wooden platform they were on swayed up and down with the river’s tide. This had to be one of the trickiest venues they’d come upon this summer and the floating stage made it damn near impossible to move around the way Elvis liked to when he sang.

“A goddamn two-bit raft, is what this is, fellas.” Elvis spit to his right as he swore under his breath, and turned back to his mic.

They had only played two songs so far, starting straight away with "That’s Alright Mama” and “Blue Moon of Kentucky” to try and get the crowd’s energy up with. They still had the rest of this afternoon set and another one at 7, but Elvis was already drenched from his head down to his toes in sweat. Quite literally. His socks had soaked up the steady stream of water rolling down his legs, and it made his feet squish into his white leather dress shoes as he shifted from side-to-side to get his bearing. Thank god for this white lace shirt, he could stay cool and look sharp no matter how wet he got.

Not that it mattered how he looked, weren’t a cute girl in sight. Elvis looked out at the crowd of people who had meandered over from the main carnival across the street. Most of them were older, farmers and their wives, and a few families. There was only a handful of young folks in the stands, but he figured, from the shrieks and laughter he could hear, that most of the teenagers were up at the fair. He wished he was up there too, shooting racing ducks or knocking down milk bottles, stead of singing for these frowning old fuddy duddies.

It was a disappointing follow up to their show at the Overton Shell the night before, half of Memphis had shown up after Dewey put out the word on Red, White and Blue. Boy, it had been a great night. Looking down at Dixie’s familiar face in the front row had been reassuring and made him feel at home, filling him up with the confidence he needed to back on tour for two months.

And boy were they kicking out off with a bang. Elvis frowned as he considered what a sad, sorry show this was to begin the tour. He didn’t understand where their fans were. Sam had said their records were selling like hotcakes in Arkansas, and now that the Colonel was getting involved, promotion was supposed to be even better. But the way this audience stared back at him, he’d never know that he was making it as big as Sam or Bob or the Colonel told him he was.

Elvis ran his hand through his wet hair to get it out of his face, and looked over at where their manager, Bob stood, off to the side of the stage trying to smile encouraging. That fat fuck, booking us on this goddamn plank o’ wood in the middle of bum fuck nowhere. Bob’s smile got bigger as Elvis pursed his lips. This whole operation is a fuckin’ disgrace. He couldn’t hear a damn thing once they started playing, the music evaporated out to to the concrete amphitheater across from them and he had no clue if his singing matched anything Bill, Scotty and DJ played. Sighing, he thought maybe it was time for a joke to punch up the crowd. So he hugged his guitar and winked at Bill.

Bill pulled his mic closer. “Hey Elvis, you seen all the pretty little girls in this here town?”

“Why sure, Bill, this town’s got some a sweetest gals this side o the Miss’ippy.”

“Well, this red headed cutie stopped me on my way on stage, grabbed my arm and said, ‘Hiya, stud, how about a bite tonight after the show?"

Elvis mugged for the audience. “Well, whatcha say, Bill?”

“Well, Elvis, I said, I’m busy after the show, honey, but I ain’t doin’ nothin’ now.’ Sos’s I bit her.” Bill followed his punchline with a big grows and a few gnawing sounds.

It was a good joke, it made Elvis laugh out loud every time Bill did it, but the crowd didn’t seem to even register how clever they were. The barge creaked up and down, and Elvis took a deep sigh, announcing out the next song.

“Well, speaking a cute lil gals, this next song, friends, is a hit we just had called Baby, Let's Play House, I hope you like it.”

Elvis closed his eyes, blocking out the dull, blank faces in front of him as he tried to stay balanced, shaking his hips and bopping his left knee up and down to help him keep time with the melody. The stage ebbed up and down, so instead of pacing the front, or doing some of the moves he usually did, Elvis gripped the mic and leaned down to croon the final refrain.

Baby, baby, baby b-b-b-b-b baby, baby baby, baby baby baby, Come back, baby, I wanna play house wit yoooooou

A few little bitty kids started doing a square dance at the front, and he looked up to see one or two teens walking into the stands. But overall, the energy was dead and it was killing his confidence.

“Uh, al right folks, we got many more good songs comin’ up, I jus know ya gonna enjoy our hit ‘I Don't Care (If The Sun Don't Shine).’ Which we’ll play in a hot second. But uh, well, we , uh we, uh - here’s ‘Good Rockin’ Tonight.’”

Elvis really gave it his all and said fuck it to the floating stage, wigging and thrusting his hips up to bolster his diaphragm as he dug deep to find the strength to scream into the powder blue afternoon sky. He opened his eyes, still hardly any movement from the crowd.

“Wouldn’t know a rockin’ tune if it hit them in the face,” he muttered under his breath, and Bill, sensing that the younger man’s mood was turning sour, started another joke.

“Hey Elvis, you know that chick I was talkin’ bout ealier?”

“Uh, yeah Bill? The one ya tried ta et?”

“Yeah, well, you’d a think that a scared her off, but man, these Batesville babies, y’all are fearless, man. Fear-lessss. Why, she begged me to ditch y’all and go home with her right away.”

“Oh man, Bill, whatcha say to that?”

“I said heyyy, baby, the heck are you begging for? You're old enough to ask for it.”

Elvis guffawed loudly, looking out at the audience.

“You’re a good man, Billiam, teachin’ that lil gal some manners.”

The sun was in Elvis’ eyes and he couldn’t see anyone’s face, so he just kept talking, sure of his humor.

“Heck, y’all can send us all ya unmarried womenfolk and we’ll do our best to teach ‘em somethin’. We’re stayin’ at the Wagon Wheel motel, jus down the street. Send any married gals who need a lesson our way too, we ain’t picky.”

A man stood up in the front row.

“Y’all should be ashamed, talkin’ filth like that out here. Ain’t Christian! An it t’aint right!”

The sun started to go down, and now Elvis could see clearly as a few others joined the man to boo them. He looked over at Bob, then back at the band. The guys just shrugged, and Bob yelled out to try and calm the crowd.

“Aw, now, the boy was just joshin, friends, just joshing’ now, so if you’ll -”

“Play in the ‘Jailhouse Now’!”

“Play some Eddy Arnold or Red Foley!”

“Go back to the city and your sinful ways!”

A fire started to pulsate up Elvis’ belly, he clenched his fists in anger and couldn’t control the need to leave, right there and then, before he embarrassed himself in front of these people.

“Aw, nuts to this, Bobbert.” Elvis pulled his guitar strap over his head and pushed the instrument into Bob’s arms. Then he grabbed his white sports jacket and jumped to shore, muttered to himself all the way.

“Goddamn alfalfa farmers. Ain’t ever comin’ back here, boy, you can bet dollars to doughnuts on that I guarantee it.”

His anger kept his feet beating the ground for a while, but the midday sun soon turned to dusk and with it came the cooling effect of space and time. Elvis looked up to find that he had stalked a good ways down the river, and the path he walked along was now all packed red dirt lined with tall prairie grass and trees. Regret settled over him, and he kicked a pebble around wondering how upset Bob was gonna be with him. Or the fellas. He hoped that they knew what was up, that they understood what a shit show this gig was. It wasn’t his fault. He had done the only reasonable thing he could do if a crowd didn’t like him.

After all, it was Bob’s fault for booking them on a floating raft at a stupid hick carnival in the first place. He looked at his watch, it was past 6, and they had a 7 p.m. evening show. Elvis clicked his tongue, wondering if he should go back to the motel or wait and show up back at the stage just before 7. Give Bob a good scare. These thoughts, however, were soon interrupted by a loud call for help from the river. A woman’s yell.

Elvis ran to the river bank and spotted the screaming woman, grasping onto a rock as she tried to stop the current from carrying her downstream. He ran over and grabbed her hand, then grasped under her armpits to pull her out completely. Her white gown was so heavy, with layers and layers of wet crinoline underneath, that it caused him to fall back on the grass underneath her. Elvis lay there for a moment, panting as the girl clung to his chest. Her short brown bob was plastered to her head, and she sputtered water all over him as she caught her breath. On her hands were a pair of long, satin evening gloves that were lined with rhinestones sewn along the ridge. Looking her over, he realized her whole gown was shimmering in the dark with rhinestones.

“Like a twinkling angel sent down just for me.” He whispered, unaware he had said it out loud until the girls lips curled in to a smile, and she pushed herself up.

“Ha, you’re the angel, rescuing me.” She patted his chest. “And now I got you all wet.”

Elvis followed her with his body as she began to sit up, taking off his jacket and wrapping it round her.

“Oh, it ain’t no thang, miss. I like being covering in all your wet. I mean - I uh, well it - uh - it t’aint nothin’ is all. Here, you must be freezing.”

She giggled, as she drew his coat around her shoulders. “Not with you to warm me up.”

“Oh, I can do better than jus an old jacket.” He put his hands at her waist, looking into her eyes as he began to rub her sides up and down. “That ok, honey? Gosh, getting so dark out here, can’t tell if you have brown or green eyes?”

“Hazel.”

“Well, that splits the difference, don’ it.”

“Ha, well, they are hazel, but that’s also my name. Figured we should get acquainted, seein’ as you probably already know my measurements.”

Hazel chuckled as Elvis blushed. “Uh, well, they are some pretty fine measurements, if you don’t mind me sayin’.”

“No, I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all, in fact, you could hold me all day, I’m just so grateful you came along. Thought I was gonna drown.”

“Yeah, hey, say what were you doing going for a swim at this time of day.”

“Ha, dressed like this? It was not by choice, trust me - um - ?”

“Uh, oh yeah, I’m Elvis, Elvis Presley, pleased to meet you.”

Hazel looked down at where her lap straddling him and shivered. Their bodies were so close, that Elvis could feel the icy chill of her skin press down on him through his pants.

“Should I take you somewhere I can get you out of these clothes and in to someone warm, I mean into somethin’ warm?”

Hazel stood, handing him his jacket, as she stripped down to her sheer, white slip, tossing the soaking dress, crinoline and gloves onto the grassy hill near where they were sitting.

Elvis let out a whistle.

“Huh, I didn’t mean here, but man’o man, you won’t see me complainin’. Best show I been to all day.”

He stood up, wrapping her back in the now semi damp jacket, his fingers lingering at her waist, and then trailing over her cheek as he stared at her pale, white milky skin. It seemed almost iridescent Elvis in the low dusk of twilight.

“You feel a little more dry, but still too cold. Wanna go back to my motel and warm up?”

Hazel nodded, and let him lead the way. Once they got to the dirt path, he told her to jump on his back, explaining he didn’t want her lil feetsies to get all dirty, so Hazel perched over him as she navigated them back to town. It was well past 8 o’clock by the time he was sneaking her into his room, hoping that the others either weren’t back, or didn’t hear them. He looked at the clock and sighed.

“Oh well, guess I missed that show too.”

“What’s that?” Hazel asked, as she made her way past his out stretched arm and into the Wagon Wheel’s bright orange technicolor western-themed room.

“Aw, nothing. Say, you sure I can’t take you to get some clean clothes, or shoes? You from here or jus - ”

Elvis gulped and lost his train of mind as he watched Hazel sashay over to the sink and help herself to his toilette. He could see the outline of her white panties through her slip, and in the mirror, a set of pink nipples peeking through the front. It made him half aroused just watching her as she leant over the sink and used his make-up without asking.

“Trying to get rid of me? Don’t you like the way I look?” Hazel simpered with a pout as she turned to find Elvis mouth gaping open in awe at her. He put his hands on his hips to look cool, but missed them completely, unable to find them because he was so distracted by her beauty. He rested them at the top of his thighs instead, which he told himself also looked very cool. Very suave.

“I, uh, um, uh - I. Course I think you look good, suga.”

He heard his words crack and paused to take a deep breath and deepen his voice. Reminding himself to be the ladykiller he knew he was. This gal was half naked and in his motel room, for chrissakes. Clearly, she dug him.

“I mean, yes, lil girl, you look good. Real good. Just worried bout how it will look like when I drive you home in the morning.” He winked and shifted from side to side, raising his eye brow and working very hard not to smile. Only dweebs smiled. Not studs like him.

“You’re sweet, you know, Elvis?” Hazel grinned up at him, as she walked to his wardrobe, and, to his dismay, started putting on some of his clothes. “Can I borrow this shirt and pants? I love pink lace. Look, we match!”

“Well, yeah, baby, whatever you want, but I mean, uh, those are men’s clothes, and well, ugh, they might smell like my cologne or something. Sure I can’t take you back to your place so you can at least grab something more ladylike?”

“No, honestly. I bet there are a lot of folks running around looking for me, I’d rather avoid the fray, if you know what I mean.”

Elvis walked over, as she hooked his pink striped belt extra tight so that she looked like a hobo, or pirate, the way his pants bunched up around her waist. Her slip was like a chemise, and with his white sports coat, Hazel was like Marlene Dietrich, but instead of a tuxedo, she was wearing his white suit with a pink, lace top. His fingers rubbed her side.

“You ok? Running away from something? Someone?”

Hazel nodded, as his arms circled around her. “You could say that. I’m the Carnival Queen, I was supposed to arrive at the amphitheater down on the river -

“I am well familiar with that floating hunk o junk.”

“Ha, well, I broke up with my fiancee yesterday. See, I decided I don’t wanna get married, I don’t wanna live in this town any more, and he does. He wants a wife, two and a half kids, the whole shebang. Anyway, he asked me to meet him at Stamper’s Bridge before the Carnival ceremony, and, gosh, boy did we get into it, I mean, we really had it out.”

“Did he push you in the river? Cuz if he did, I’m gonna kill him.”

“No. At least I don’t think he meant to, it was all such a blur. But then, he didn’t jump in to help me neither. Now I bet my family and half the town are running round, wondering why I didn’t show up to the crowning ceremony.”

Elvis rubbed her shoulder, sshhhing her. He was conflicted between getting up and punching the wall, and staying there to comfort this sweet, helpless lil girl who fate had placed in his care.

Hazel buried her head in her hands. “Ugh, it is all just so embarrassing. Rather just deal with it tomorrow.”

Elvis picked her up and spoke softly to her as he put her on the bed and began to rub her feet. “Man, your little toesies are so cold, baby, they blue.” He kissed the top of her feet, blowing on them. “Ta warm ‘em up.” Then he rolled clean, silky pink socks over them.

“Reckon these white loafers are too big for you, but at least they match ya outfit. Must be weird, wearing men’s clothing for the first time.”

Hazel smiled as she folded the top of her pink socks down to her ankles. “That’s ok. Suddenly I feel much more confident, like I could rule the world. Or understand math better.”

“Ha! You’re funny, you know that, lil Blue Toesies? These shoes do make me feel like I could conquer the world, though.”

She leaned closer to where he was kneeled between her legs. “You’re a sweet guy, Elvis. Would it be ok - could I - can I stay with you tonight?”

“Sho, honey, you the boss.” Elvis leaned closer to her, nuzzling her forehead with his nose. “Oh baby, why, you’re still cold as ice. Let’s go get you some food, any wheres ‘round here have good chili and hot coffee? That’ll get ya blood flowing ‘gain. Or, I have some other idea - ”

“ Stop! Let’s go to Mac’s Coffee shop, they have the best chili con carne in town.”

“Well, alright lil gal.” He intentionally used his deep, sexy voice as he stood, and his affect made Hazel giggle. “C’mon now, quiet ya cackling and show this hongry boy - I mean man, honnngry man, the way.”

The walk to Mac’s was not far, but Elvis kept his eyes peeled for Bill, Scotty or Bob, because he knew that they would be pissed that he had stormed off stage. Then missed the second show. He could hear Bob’s voice telling him it wasn’t professional behavior. Then he’d tell Bob what time it was, yes sireee, he’d set him straight. He just didn’t want to have that confrontation now. In front of a lady. He squeezed Hazel’s hand tight, and nearly fell off the curb at one point when he was sure he saw Bob from behind as they entered the coffee shop. But he’d been wrong.

Hazel had been correct, Mac’s did have the best chili con carne. The fact that it didn’t have any onions, unless you ordered them as one of your fixins’ sealed the deal for Elvis, and he licked his spoon with his last mouthful, then ordered two chili dogs and an side of fries.

“I’m a growing boy.” He smacked his lips and wiggled his eyes at Hazel’s and squeezing her waist.

The guy on the other side of the counter walked by again and gave them a curious stare, his eyes lingering on Hazel as if he recognized her, but wasn’t sure.

Elvis nodded his head at him. “What’s his deal, he keeps looking over atcha?”

“I guess it’s not every day he see’s a girl with my amazing taste in fashion.”

��You do look good in my clothes.” Elvis smirked. “Look even better out of ‘em.”

“You’re a naughty boy, Elvis Presley.”

Hazel pinched his knee, and their eyes locked in a tender gaze. It felt to Elvis as if they had been lovers for years, not strangers who had just met. She had an open heart, like him, he could tell. And a sense of humor. He almost asked her to marry him then and there. But then he remembered that Bob had told him to stop doing that on tour, it wasn’t professional. So, instead, he had learned other nice stuff he thought made girls happy.

“Gosh ya so pretty. Can’t believe I met such a pretty gal today, this way. Feels bad to call it luck. But that’s how I feel, Baby Blue Toes. Lucky.”

“Aw, I - I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the pretty girls ones I fish outta rivers.”

“Ha! You are funny. You’re a funny boy.” She blushed as he swing his chair around to hit her knees against his. “What do you do, funny boy? Are you a traveling salesman?”

Elvis laughed and stood up momentarily, motioning to his outfit. “What about these clothes says traveling salesman to you, baby doll?” He pulled on his white lace shirt. “I’m a singer, me and my band, well, we were here performing at the Carnival.”

“Ever on the radio?”

Elvis took a long sip of his coffee, eyeing the rest of the coffee shop. It was mostly empty, with another couple at one of the booth’s in the back, and then a Black man drinking coffee over on the side of the counter marked for “Black Folks Only.” Elvis nodded when he looked up from his newspaper, then whispered to Hazel.

“Uh huh. Ever heard ‘That’s Alright Mama’?”

Hazel hit him, and squeaked. “Yes!” The other patrons looked other, and Elvis grinned awkwardly. “It came out last month, didn’t it?”

“Na uh, baby. Why, it’s been spinning on the radio for over a year. Maybe you just ain’t listened at the right time. Better late than never, I s’pose.”

“Sing something for me?”

“Here?”

“Why not? You’re leaving town, you’ll never see any of these people again. Could be the only night we have together. Why not, who cares what anyone thinks?”

Elvis shook his head, his eyes laughing as he jumped up, and walked over to the juke box with a cocksure swagger. Hazel laughed when she heard the opening of that old Mel Torme record, Blue Moon. Elvis leaned against the juke box and called out to her across the restaurant.

“Better get that sweet little butt over here, Hazel, if you wanna hear me sing.”

Hazel looked at the guy behind the register, shrugged apologetically, and then jumped up to join him. Elvis took her hand, massaging it with his own, trying to get rid of the chill that lingered through Hazel’s extremities. Then he put his hand at her waist, and lead her in a small circle, swaying, as he sang along to the tune. Changing the words, of course.

Blue Toes, you saw me standing alone

With out a dream in my heart, without any wet clothes on

Hazel’s laughter was infectious, Elvis wanted to do whatever he had to keep her laughing. Her smile lit up her face, her whole body, and it didn’t matter that she was only wearing a little mascara, with over sized clothes bunched up at her waist. She was the most lovely, ethereal creature he had ever seen. As they walked back to the hotel, he gaped in awe at the way her skin glittered like faery dust in the light of the harvest moon. They talked and talked as Hazel held his hand, leading him around the town square, pointing to the clothing store her family owned, asking him if he liked singing and what he wanted out of life.

Back at the motel, he closed the door softly behind them as a quiet nervousness worked up his back. He looked her in the eyes.

“Everythin’”

“Everything?”

“That’s what I want, I reckon it sounds silly, but I growed up without much. Now, I want everythin’ I ain’t never had. All the cars, jewelry, houses, girls - everythin’”

Hazel nodded. “Makes sense.”

“You?” His face was shy, and he leaned against the door lock, trying to read the situation and his next move.

“I don’t know. I just want to be in the moment. And right now, Elvis Presley.” Hazel put her arms around him, and closed her eyes. It made all the blood rush to his penis to have her lean on him this way, looking so innocent as she answered him in a breathy, low voice. “I just want you.”

He helped her take off his clothes as he carried her to the bed in her slip. “Oh baby, I feel the same way.”

She tasted like chili spice and coffee, and her whole body shivered with a chill. Elvis rubbed her up and down, over her hips, her legs, the sides of her ribs. Then he crawled over her to warm her with his body heat, and his eyes closed as he felt her knee go up between his legs.

“Goddamn.” He muttered, grazing over it delicately at first, then grinding harder.

He cupped her face.

“Are you ok?”

“Mhmmm.”

“Tell me to stop, at anytime, ok, baby? Ain’t gonna do nothin’ you don’t want me to.”

Hazel nodded, her mouth hung open and longing animating her eyes. They were like two jewels affixed to the top of a beautiful, pale ivory tower. A tower he wanted to climb. Her skin was still cool, it and soothed the volcano boiling underneath his calm, steady visage.

Her lips twitched apart as his fingers delicately made their under her slip, and he arched his eyebrow in a silent request as he started to work her panties off.

Bill, Scotty and DJ must have just gotten back, because he heard a group go into Scotty’s room and begin pounding the wall before they burst into a fit of drunken giggles.

“Don’t listen ta them, that’s my band. Those jackasses is jus teasin.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok. I know what it’s like to have friends.”

Elvis grinned down into Hazels warm, inviting smile as his lips ghosted over hers. He could feel her lashes mingle with his and it was so perfect, he didn’t want to spoil the moment, he wanted to remember her like this forever. So he took it slow. Pressing into her mouth gradually, stretching out this first contact for as long as he could. Then breathing into her mouth as it cracked apart, and sinking onto her bottom lip to caress over it back and forth, flicking the tip of his tongue inside.

His fingers slipped inside her labia, and looked around until he found her button. It made her moan out, loudly, even though Elvis was still awkwardly fumbling his way around the clitoris, trying to figure out how to touch it in a way that got her to moan out again.

“That ok, honey?”

“Uh huh, just, just a little to the left, softer, softer, oh god!”

He laughed in her neck, satisfied at his machinations, then sat back, spreading her labia so he could watch what he was doing. He spit into his hand, like Bill and Scotty had told him to do, like he had with other girls. The wetter the better, Bill had said, drives women wild the you get that button at the top of their cooch all slippery and fiddle with it.

“How’s that?”

Hazel opened her eyes and looked up at him, her eyes rolling back as he moved his thumb back and forth on the side of her little nub.

“It feels really good. I - I never had anyone touch me, not like this. Never had anyone ask how I liked it, neither. And, well, I never go to third base with someone I just met.”

Elvis kissed her on the check. “S’destiny, honey. I was meant to find you today. Meant to make you feel good.”

Her hand went to his groin, and palmed over the stiff length she found there. She paused at his belt.

“I believe you were. How about you, Elvis, can I make y-y-you feel g-g-g-ood?”

Elvis stilled her hand. “Ya are, honey, ya are. Doin’ this makes me feel good.”

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, Elvis smiled as he found a spot that made Hazel quiver when he flicked over it, and around it, and back and forth beside it. With a tentative glance, upward, he bent down and parted her lips, kissing her public hair as he affectionately began to lick over where his finger had been. Hazel cried out, arching her back and thrusting further in to his face at the sensation.

Elvis laughed in to her as his hands moved to hold her steady. The succession of breathy moans his tongue elicited was so exciting, he could feel his foreskin roll up against his trousers. Diving between Hazel’s legs was like jumping into a cool creek back in Tupelo on a hot July day. It was sweet and soothing, and he chased the cool taste of summer that he found there, flattening his tongue against her as he worked to figure out how to make her moan out again.

He felt her tremble, and looked up to see her face contort in to a thousands states of pleasure. Watching her come undone and cry out her release as she convulsed around his head sent Elvis over the edge. He felt his own dam burst below where his hips rocked back and forth over the bed spread and shuddered his release into the side of his pants. Heaving, he collapsed into her waist while his hands now moved languidly over her cool belly and the room was still save for the sounds of their shattered breath.

The boys had obviously heard them and clanging against the wall again, crying out Oh Elvis! in high, falsetto voices.

Elvis grimaced as he climbed up the bed to lay next to Hazel and wiped his mouth on his arm before pulling her into him.

“Trust me, I am gonna kill those boys tomorra.”

She rolled on to his chest with her eyes closed and a big, sated smile on her face.

“Aw, they love you, Elvis. They only tease you because they love you.”

‘Huh. Maybe.” He soothed her head, and brought the blanket over them as they settled deeper in to the bed. “Aw honey, still feel kinda chilly. Wish I didn’t have to leave, wish I could stay with you forever, keep you warm. We’re the perfect fit, you know that? Everyone always tells me I run hot, and well, you, you run cold.”

“I know you have to go. Maybe I’ll see you at one of your engagements. I think I’m gonna move to Little Rock, ever go through there?”

Elvis kissed her head and wrapped his arms around her tight. “You better believe it, go through Little Rock every tour. Wanna see you there, right at the front of the stage.”

He squeezed her to him even closer, enjoying the way she rubbed over his lace shirt as they drifted off to sleep talking about nothing and everything.

It was 10 or so the next morning when Elvis awoke to find his bed empty and the clothes she had worn strewn throughout the room. He rubbed his head. “Did she walk home barefoot? In a slip?” He muttered to himself as he changed his clothes and went to pound on the boys motel rooms so they could all go forage for breakfast together.

The men gave him a hard time, rubbing his head and asking how many little girls he had in his room that night. They didn’t mention the performance, as if they had previously agreed to let Bob handle that one.

Elvis shoveled another mouthful of his biscuits and gravy into his mouth as he tried to describe Hazel to them. “You boys don’t understand, she was like an angel sent from heaven just for me. I gotta see her again.”

A waitress went by with a pot of coffee, and Elvis grabbed her wrist, motioning for a refill. As she clucked an “ouch, alright alright” at him, he had an idea and spoke to her with a mouth full of biscuity sausagey gravy.

“Scuze me ma’am, you wouldn’t happen to know the name of the Carnival Queen, would you? Hazel? Hazel sumpin’? Folks own the small department store off tha square ova there?”

The waitress’ face went ashen and she shook her head before stomping away.

“What’s up her butt?”

The older man sitting on the other side of Bill leaned over.

“Y’all must be confused. Hazel Stein was the Carnival Queen last year, and what happened to her was a tragedy. A damn waste of a pretty little girl.”

Elvis’ mouth hung open, and he looked to Bill and Scotty. “Nah, can’t be. I just met her. Hazel, you say, the Carnival Queen?”

“Yup.” The old man nodded. “Fell in to the river and drowned. Why, musta been a year ago yesterday.”

Elvis head spun, and he nearly choked. She had been real, she must have been. He could still smell her scent of summer on his face and hands.

**************************************************************

so this is a one-shot, and I'll just take a stab in the dark at a tag-list. Let me know if you would like to be removed or added to one-shots or holiday/season whatnots and so forths.

@moonchild-daniella @ashtag6887 @artlover8992 @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @freudianslumber @dkayfixates @kingdomforapony @j-v-9-2 @literally-just-elvis-fics @ab4eva @i-r-i-n-a-a @horror-movieshoes @everythingelvispresley @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @tacozebra051 @notstefaniepresley @lillypink @jessicarcates

#elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis x oc #elvis #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis-o-ween #spooky not scary #banditqueenwrites #1955 Elvis #halloween fic #halloween

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pinkorchidsinspring · 11 months

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youtube

I just would like to bring up this heavenly cover, (if you haven’t watched her cover of this you need to) because I have many things to say after reading comments, and just watching it.

(This cover aired October, 2014)

I love that she’s so “straight” that not only did she not change the pronouns, but her and the interviewer said the song was from a woman’s perspective.

Let’s simply go through the lyrics shall we? Here’s a little key for my organized babes reading my complicated explanation 😘

Orange: Karlie

Pink: Taylor

Blue: 1989

Green: evermore

I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations

Taylor was scared of pretty girls, does that sound like any supermodel we know?

This guy decides to quit his job and heads to New York City

Taylor quit her life back home in Pennsylvania & Nashville and headed to New York City, and lived near who? Cornelia street anyone?

This living situation obviously resulted in quite the album called “1989”.

This video came out on October 9th, 2014, it was obviously promo for 1989 which came out October 27th, 2014.

We obviously know and realize that part of 1989 is about Diana Aragon and Taylor’s relationship with her.

We also realize that by the time both this interview and 1989 came out Taylor had publicly known Karlie for 11 months.

However this Victoria’s Secret fashion show⬇️ was actually taped in November of 2013, so they had officially known each other almost a full year privately.

So the way she didn’t change any pronouns and was so happy singing it because of this lack of change, implys her happiness with whatever relationship they had going on. Whether that be platonic or romantic.

This cowboy's running from himself

Taylor is running from herself and the pain she caused herself with her last relationships. And of course Incidentally references her not yet planned 9th studio album.

And the song called “cowboy like me”

You're a cowboy like me, Perched in the dark

Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear

Eyes full of stars

Hustling for the good life (fame +riches)

Never thought I'd meet you here (at a VS fashion show? 😏)

It could be love

Wonder who that songs about… anyway-

And she's been living on the highest shelf

Karlie is a supermodel, she makes bank, and gets the highest tier treatment.

Closest thing to Michelle Pfeiffer that you've ever seen

(Michelle pfeiffer left, karlie kloss right) If you skip to 2:20 in the video, Taylor cannot keep a straight face simply out of anticipation to sing this lyric. She’s grinning up to her eyes. 💗

A little bit self explanatory why this cover wasn’t done just for promo isn’t it?

Taylor communicates with us. People just don’t listen.

Link to my other song analysis’

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ingravinoveritas · 2 months

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I can see David being someone who prefers to misdirect with technically correct language rather than lying. "Ally" - technically true, he's an ally to other parts of the community including trans/nonbinary so technically correct. Not an active participant - technically true, he's not going out to gay clubs on a Friday night. But he doesn't call himself straight or outright say he's not queer, because that's just a flat out lie. His words imply he's straight but he specifically doesn't say that.

Yes! That is exactly what I was trying to convey in my previous answer about the Attitude magazine interview. That David is more than intelligent enough to know how to answer these questions in a clever way. Let me put the screenshot up here again to address the rest of your comment:

What you said about "technically correct" language makes complete sense and speaks to that idea of answering these questions in a nuanced way--not lying, but also not revealing too much. I am not at all disputing that David is an ally, because he has solidly shown himself to be one to specific parts of the community. But "rather than an active participant" is such a unique choice of words, because as you said, David could have easily called himself "straight" or said he isn't queer, but he chose not to do that. So that just made me wonder why that was the case.

The idea of "misdirecting" I think makes sense as well with the idea of David putting a barrier between his real self and the world, because it enables him to share a version of himself that feels safe for him/his current situation. I also feel that, given how much David clearly cares about the community, he would not spend years and years quietly (or lately, not-so quietly) implying he is something other than 100% straight, only for that to be a fake-out/"Gotcha!" moment.

It is for these reasons that my focus tends to be more on David's actions than his words, and is something I have talked about previously at length on my blog (to give just a few examples). I think people tell us who they are in all sorts of ways, often just by being who they are, rather than labeling or talking about it. And again, this was a random interview promoting the BAFTAs, so it made sense for him to answer in as non-committal a way as possible.

So those are my thoughts on your comments. Always appreciative of other perspectives, and happy to hear from folks with their thoughts in the comments on this post. Thank you for writing in! x

#nopewhyyyyyyyyni #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #BAFTAs 2024 #attitude magazine #also if he is indeed straight i have no issue with that at all #but that is specifically not what he said here #and it is strange to me to see people ignoring/overlooking that #but i love that he is slowly telling us who he is #not all at once but cumulatively over the last few years #thoughts #discourse

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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treasures - zhongli x chubby reader (7.5k)

your favourite patron at the teahouse sees in you something that others do not. perhaps that has to do with the something special that he, too, hides from only the most worthy. you certainly meet that criteria.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. reader is afab and no gendered terms are used. reader is explicitly chubby. reader is inexperienced and insecure. zhongli has monstrous features; claws, two dicks, a forked tongue, fangs. fingering, piv sex, light strength kink, ‘sir’ kink (reader refers to zhongli as ‘sir’ and ‘mr zhongli’), pet names.

this was a commissioned work.

It is difficult to not be in awe of Zhongli.

You had been awestruck the very first time you'd seen him; sitting, perfectly still and calm and poised, at a table in the teahouse your family owned. Your father had gently pushed you towards him and warned you that Mr Zhongli was extremely well-respected, intelligent and important, and you ought to treat him with the proper respect - who knows, he said, what Zhongli's patronage could mean for your humble little family business in the future? So you'd tugged at the uniform you were wearing and tried to plaster on a customer-service sweet smile and hoped that he couldn't tell how your knees were trembling beneath the fabric.

He’d given you a polite smile when you’d greeted him and given him the menu; asked your opinion on what the best dish to order would be as if he genuinely cared. That had been hard on you too; you’ve always found yourself rather shy, and that had come rushing to the forefront all over again when you’d been faced with honey-warm amber eyes and a low, lilting voice and Zhongli’s full attention on you. You’re not sure what you’d stuttered out in reply – all that you remember about that particular interaction is stumbling over the word ‘Sir’ more times than you could count, and the fact that Zhongli had been unerringly patient as he waited for you to get to the end.

If you’d been a little less nervous and a little more observant, perhaps you’d have noticed the clench of his knuckles on the desk, the soft intake of breath when you’d been so clearly in awe of him, or even the slight shifting in his chair when your pretty lips had shaped the polite title--

But you didn’t. So, instead, you’d rushed off in a little flurry of activity and relayed Zhongli’s order and tried not to think too hard about just how handsome the man currently sitting at one of your tables was.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had never returned, after you’d showed yourself up as so easily rattled that first time – but not only does Zhongli continue to pay patronage to your family’s teahouse, but . . . he asks after you, on the days you’re not working. He always sits in the same seat, and if you didn’t know better you’d say that he sat at that table because he knows it’s one of the ones assigned to you for waiting upon. He lures you into conversation like a man feeding a shy deer; and when you cast worried glances at other members of your family, they intimate through their gestures that you should stay. Listen to him. Keep him happy.

It makes Zhongli happy, you discover, to tell stories; to pontificate on folklore and history and – most surprising of all – gently coax your own opinion out of you. When you try and protest that surely someone like you has no new information to offer him, he simply chuckles in that low, rich voice that makes you want to bite your lip and avoid looking at him for a while lest you embarrass yourself further.

“Oh, my dear,” Zhongli says, with that soft smile on his lips. “Your contributions are greatly valued. It is always fascinating to hear things from a new perspective . . . most especially one as unspoiled as your own.”

Late one night, Zhongli gets lost in one of his stories; some old folk tale about the Adepti of the Stone Forest that you have hung onto every word of. Zhongli, delighted to have such an adroit listener, had gone from story to story, his low voice meandering pleasantly, until it had been all but empty aside from you and your father.

“I trust you’ll look after them, Mr Zhongli,” your father had said, as he’d gotten his own coat. He’d smiled at you in turn. “And I trust you’ll lock up the teahouse, won’t you?”

“Of course,” you’d said, still enraptured with what Zhongli was telling you. With no other customers, you had even been able to take a seat at the table with Zhongli; giving him your full attention, instead of merely hearing snatches of what he had to say as you went about your duties. You cannot help but hang onto every word he’s said.

Tonight is no different--

Only . . .

Only, tonight, there is something more going on. A pleasant buzzing that at once fills you with churning anxiety and wondrous anticipation – the sense that something is shifting. When Zhongli smiles at you and inches just a little closer, you feel heat rise to your cheeks. It’s hard not to simply stare at him; to take in the warmth of his eyes, or the perfect, elegant lines of his face – the way he sits so self-assured and certain, the breadth of his shoulders and the lilting music of his voice--

“What do you think?” He breaks you from the reverie. You start, and have to face the embarrassing fact that you have just missed a good half of whatever it is Zhongli was saying to you; far too distracted by all of his other attributes. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, your gaze guiltily flashing from him to the lanterns left burning to light the tea house floor.

“I-- ahh, I’m afraid I got quite lost in my own thoughts, Mr Zhongli.”

“Mm. Is that so?” He smiles at you, and that smile makes your heart skip a beat; it is as if he is looking directly into your soul. “Ah, I must say I’m disappointed. That one was one of my favourite retellings so far, I think . . . It’s rare to find someone I feel as though I can share it with.”

Anxiety prickles down your spine.

“O-oh, I’m so sorry, Sir,” you say, words rushing out of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to let my thoughts wander – I j-just find you . . .”

“Distracting?” Zhongli supplies, and then he chuckles at the look of doe-eyed guilt on your face. “Oh, dear. Don’t look so surprised. It’s flattering that I can still attract the attention of something so pretty.”

Your mouth falls open quite against your will, and Zhongli’s eyebrow quirks, his lip twisting.

“You still look surprised,” he tells you.

“I . . . You think . . .” It’s downright embarrassing, how much of your own poise you’ve lost in the face of a compliment from a handsome man; but Zhongli is still staring at you curiously. “Thank you.”

“I have no reason to lie to you,” Zhongli says. “You’re . . . ahh. Excuse me. It’s probably inappropriate for me to say as a customer, but . . . whilst your family’s tea is perfectly adequate, it is not their blends that have kept me coming back. It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve been so utterly captivated by someone.”

“Surely not that long,” you say. “You’re an extremely handsome man, Mr Zhongli. I’m sure you’ve had your f-fair share of admirers--”

“Worshipers,” he says, and his mouth curls into a smile that makes you glad that you’re already sitting down; for you cannot help but fear if not, you would be falling to your knees. He hesitates, before he reaches out to you. “Not any more, though.”

(Something pulls at the back of your mind; threads weaving themselves together, an understanding that you should have come to this conclusion far sooner). Your eyes widen further, your heart pumping blood so loudly and quickly you feel sure Zhongli himself must be able to tell.

He hums, gloved thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, eyes trained on you as if you are the only thing in the whole world that it is worth his time to look at. You look into his eyes in return; see the amber-honey shade of them, the pupil that is not shaped like any other mortal pupil you have ever seen.

“You already know, I think,” Zhongli tells you--

No.

Rex Lapis tells you.

Of course he is.

It all makes perfect sense, looking back; his amused smile when he asked you about folklore, the fact he’d so often quirked an eyebrow and murmured something about how time so often erodes truth whenever other people brought up all of his own great deeds, the knowledge of rites and customs far disappeared from most mortal minds . . . Some of the things you’ve said suddenly come back to haunt you. You have never been outright rude – that is not in your nature – but the fear that something you’ve once said without thinking has stuck in his craw and will come back, now, with fury--

He chuckles, the sound like black velvet.

“Don’t look so frightened,” he tells you. “I am . . . not what I once was. I do not have any bone to pick with you – I meant what I said, about hearing things from an unspoiled state of mind. I’ve found your thoughts quite engrossing.”

He hasn’t moved his hand from cupping the softness of your cheek; and, too, that soft smile has not faded a whit. You are suddenly made all the more aware that Zhongli is the last customer left in the teahouse – that your father had trusted you and he implicitly in the space, even though it surely would not do wonders for your reputation if anyone knew you’d been left alone here with such an esteemed patron.

Your heart has not ceased in its rhythm, battering wildly against your ribcage like a caged bird longing to be free.

“I—I’m grateful,” you say to him. “Sir.”

The title does not sound quite right falling from your lips; it feels like you ought to be calling him ‘my Lord’ or something that more properly represents everything he has (everything he was) – but Zhongli’s eyes merely darken a touch, his fingertips on your bare skin flexing just the smallest amount as if in a show of possession.

“Ah,” he says. “I . . . must make another small admittance now, I fear.”

Your eyelashes flutter; your tongue darting out to wet your lips. Your throat has suddenly gone quite terribly dry; heat and desire and surprise are all swirling in your stomach in a hurricane that leaves you feeling like you’re on the unsteady deck of a boat docking at Liyue Harbor.

“Would you mind if I told you?” He asks you; ever gentlemanly, even though he could surely hold the fact he was an Archon over your head. Even though he must know you could not truly deny him anything, even if you did want to. You give him a breathless little nod. Zhongli’s smile does not fade, but he pulls your own face a little closer to his. When he smiles, you see the slightest flash of sharp fangs, the hint of a tongue that’s not quite human. “I will, then. Every time you call me ‘Sir’ . . .”

“Would you like me to stop?” you ask him a rush, and he chuckles again.

“Oh, far from it,” Zhongli says, with those sharp eyes and that wicked smile and his touch not easing in the slightest. “In fact, the problem is rather more . . . that I would like to hear you say it in both an encounter and a location that’s a little more . . . Well. I would like to hear that particular title from your lips when things are taking a turn for the intimate, if you’re amenable to the idea.”

“Mr Zhongli, Sir,” you breathe, your cheeks all hot and your voice soft and your thoughts tumbling over one another. To think that you could be desired in such a fashion by a man (an Archon, a God, a deity) like Rex Lapis himself. “I. Of course I am.”

“I’m very pleased to hear you say it,” Zhongli murmurs. “An agreement, then. A . . . contract, if you will.”

This time, when Zhongli smiles, you are far more certain of things than you were before.

Those are definitely fangs in his mouth.

“I haven’t really done much of this before,” you admit to Zhongli, several days later, in a bedroom filled with expensive trinkets lining the walls, in the rooms that Zhongli rents in Liyue Harbor.

(Well; that’s not entirely true. From what you’ve gathered, Wangsheng Funeral Parlour pays for this expense, much as they do for his expensive meals and elaborate things that take his fancy, thinking him worth it – you’d seen him with Hu Tao, a few days after he’d revealed to you his secret, and the smile she’d given you as you crossed the street had made you think that perhaps she knows more than anyone else what her consultant really is. Still; you do not envy her. You are aware of what Zhongli’s tea house bills look like, and your establishment is hardly the most expensive in the area).

It’s a terrifying thing to admit to a God of over a thousand years; that, though you’re sure his fingers have played across many people’s skin and his mouth has kissed many pairs of lips, you have nowhere near that same experience – in fact, that you are almost as far away from that as it is possible to be. You have had a few quick fumbles in the dark, a few nervous kisses; but this? Rex Lapis himself before you, who has surely had his pick of lovers? Anybody would be frightened.

You feel your teeth bite into your lip again, anxiety flaring down your spine and making your shoulders shake – but Zhongli simply smiles. One of those elegant gloved hands reaches for you once more, tilting your chin up to look into a sympathetic, handsome face.

“I won’t hurt you,” he reassures you. “I will go as slowly as you require, darling. You have my word on that.”

You swallow.

“I d-don’t want to disappoint you,” you admit – and there it is. That shameful other secret.

The one that whispers that you are not worthy to be the lover of a God; that says that the curve of your hips and the roundness of your stomach, the dimpled arms and the plump thighs are too much for him. That he ought to be with someone else; someone elegant and lovely, someone who is confident in their own skin, someone who is not you--

The fingers on your chin tighten in only the most subtle of movements; those eyes laser-focused as they look at you.

“How could you disappoint me?” He asks, and you flounder for the words.

“I-- I’m simply afraid that . . . I w-won’t please you,” your throat is dry as you let the words out. Zhongli’s brow twitches. “I mean-- I know I’m not . . . I’m not the traditional beauty that you’re probably used to, that you. Deserve--”

He jerks your chin this time, rougher than he’s been with you so far – closes his eyes for a moment, as if he needs to wrestle himself back under control. When he opens them again, they’re very dark amber, and his voice is low.

“Do you think I do not know a precious treasure when I see it?” He asks. “Do you think I do not have an eye for beauty? Do you think that I would do something like this from . . . from pity? Do you not realise that whenever I look at you I am struck with the most overwhelming desire to steal you away and keep you for myself, forever?” He smiles, but there’s a sharpness to this smile; and you see in him, a flash of that warrior God. “I’m almost offended, my dear. Ah . . . If you’re not yet certain of what exactly you do to me, let me enlighten you.”

His other gloved hand reaches for yours; his grip tight as it fastens about your wrist, and suddenly he is pulling it towards him – and settling it directly over the expensive fabric of his trousers, on his crotch.

He’s radiating heat. Stiff and hard and big beneath the buttons; his eyelashes flicker against his cheekbones for a moment at the pressure of your own hand there. He breathes out quietly.

“Do you feel that?” He murmurs, and he moves your hand for you; strokes it over the bulge that’s only growing moment by moment. There’s something else there; it’s bigger than you’d expected. Harder. Your own face is hot, but you can also feel that your mouth has gone dry and there’s a pressure between your thighs, a ball of heat gathering low in your stomach at the thought that this reaction of Zhongli’s is entirely for you. “This is from thinking about you. Thinking of having you beneath me; of touching you. How soft your skin would be. The feel of your thighs about my waist, the taste of you lingering on my tongue . . .”

“Sir—” You breathe out, and he lets out a breathless chuckle.

“That’s what I thought,” he says. He leans down to you – his lips mere inches from yours, his voice still velvety as he speaks to you. “Know, my darling, that when I touch you it is fulfilling an ache that I feel down to my bones. That every inch of you is more lovely than I can express. Now – may I kiss you?”

You’re breathless; wordless. Nobody has ever spoken about you with such reverence as Zhongli just has; you have never felt quite so adored as you do under the gaze of your Archon. You nod, and Zhongli captures your mouth with his in a kiss that’s all searing, needy heat.

One arm wraps about your waist, pulling you closer and closer. Sharp little fangs nip at your lower lip, and you can do nothing but open your mouth in a needy gasp, as a forked tongue playfully presses against your own. Zhongli does not merely kiss you; he takes ownership of you, claiming your mouth as his territory. And there is nothing you would rather do than melt into the embrace and let him.

He holds you, touches you, like you’re something precious; such delicate glass that if he grips too tight, you may shatter in his arms. You suppose it’s to be expected – Rex Lapis is a God of stone, after all – but it’s hard not to be overwhelmed with just how gently he’s handling you. When his gloved fingers reach for the clasps of your garments, he handles them like the finest silk – strips them from the shape of your body as if he’s a master artisan revealing his greatest work yet.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, low, his thumb brushing over the curve of your collarbone and the soft plumpness of your shoulders, where your skin is soft and a layer of plush makes it all the more pleasant to touch. “You’re exquisite.”

He dips his head again; his mouth brushing across the hollow of your throat, this time. A tongue lapping against the line of your jaw, fangs nipping carefully at your earlobe until your hands fist in his suit and you whimper at the sensation of heat coiling inside of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, working your clothes off in their completion.

“Breathtaking,” he says, as he bids you lift your hips to make slow work of your underwear. He sees the slick shining between your thighs, how the gossamer spider web strands cling to the gusset of what you’re wearing – but he merely chuckles.

“My,” Zhongli’s voice is lightly amused. “It appears I have just as much an effect on you as you have on me, doesn’t it?”

When you are bare completely before him, laid on his fine sheets – Zhongli takes another long, lingering moment to simply take in the sight of you. An Archon who has lived as long as he has is blessed with infinite patience – and though you’re squirming, though your face is hot and you feel need whispering up your spine, Zhongli simply chuckles.

“Patience,” he chastises you, in that musical voice. “Ah. You mortals don’t know the meaning of the word, hm? What seems a lifetime for you is mere moments for me . . .” He slides his hands up your full thighs, around the curve of your waist and the pudge of your stomach, to the heavy weight of your breasts – his thumbs brushing your nipples in small circles that have gasps dying in your throat. “You will surely allow an old man a few more moments to enjoy one of the most lovely sights he’s ever been privileged enough to see? I didn’t have you down as cruel--”

It’s still heart-rendingly lovely to hear him talk about you like you’re something beautiful – you feel like a shy flower, finally blooming before him – watered by his gentle words, the reverent touches.

He is not being glib when he talks about having patience; when he asks you for a few more moments to enjoy you. He does not fully touch you yet; instead, he merely dips his head once more and begins to press hot kisses to every inch of skin that he can see, leaving none of you feeling underappreciated. His tongue flicks out against your nipples, forked edge teasing them until they are so stiff they feel almost sore – and only then moving further, trailing them down the round curve of your stomach--

He parts your thighs further, fingers sinking into the flesh; breathes in deeply the scent of you, but still does not deign to pay attention to what’s between your thighs in favour of more kisses up the soft skin of your inner thighs, the slightest sink of his fangs into that same meat. He immediately licks, soothes the sting of his bite-kiss – and then shifts his attention higher, to a different part of the thigh, to repeat the motions. Every scrape of his teeth and flicker of his tongue and brush of his lips makes you feel so on edge you fear you may die; your desperate need to be touched further coalescing into a ball inside of you that you cannot keep under control.

“There,” he murmurs, pulling back from a kiss at the very apex between thigh and sex. “Look how wet you’ve gotten for me, darling. I think we can move on to the next step, can’t we?”

A brief flash of fear; anxiety churning in between all of the anticipation – but Zhongli has not lived so long for no reason. He smiles at you with that same perfectly calm, unruffled expression that so haunts your thoughts, the same tilt to his lips.

“Shh,” he says. “Don’t worry. I said I would be gentle, and you ought to know that I am not somebody who goes back on my word. The next step is not simply – forgive me for being crude – fucking you into the mattress. I am not so louche as all that. It’s merely time to kick things up a notch--”

He pulls back. His fingers move to his own garments, now; hands unbuttoning his collar, shrugging off his jacket. You stare at him as he disrobed with wide eyes – he’s exactly as handsome as you’ve always imagined. Lean, but in the fashion of a predator animal; defined muscles beneath the skin. His skin darkens somewhat as it reaches the crook of his elbow, carrying on into darker and darker shades until his hands are hidden by his gloves.

“Y-your gloves,” you say to him, as he stands there – and you avoid looking at what’s between his thighs, straining heavily and needily against the fabric. “A-aren’t you going to take them off?”

Zhongli smiles.

“I will,” he says. “Eventually. But, my dear – I intend to prepare you first, and my . . . well. I’m capable of doing many things with my hands, but I have no desire to hurt you. You’ll see for yourself, I’m sure.”

“Prepare me?” You say, softly – and Zhongli smiles, gathers himself up on his knees, and settles carefully between your spread thighs. Those same clever fingers brush higher and higher up your thighs, until you understand exactly what the man means when he puts it in those terms.

Your own fingers curl into the sheets beneath you as Zhongli gently pushes one of his fingers inside of you; you’re more than wet enough, from the kissing and the biting and the teasing and the compliments, but it’s still a surprising sensation to have someone else touch you so intimately – especially when you chance a glance up and see the utter concentration on Zhongli’s normally serene face.

“That’s right,” Zhongli whispers. “You’re doing very well.”

He’s gentle as he slides it partway out, and then in again; slow as he establishes something that verges on a rhythm. The sensation of the gloved fingers inside of you is strange but not unpleasant; it simply adds a certain kind of friction to the act, rubbing along your inner walls in a way that has you shuddering. You can hear, too, the slick noise of your own arousal on the fine leather – and Zhongli is still smiling, still murmuring soft little encouragements in between the pumping.

“I’m going to put a second one into you,” he murmurs, and you give him a breathless little nod – one finger pulling out, only for you to feel two of them gently circling your entrance, pushing inside of you. He scissors his fingers slightly and it goes through you like an electric jolt, your back curving in surprise as a soft whimper falls from your lips – Zhongli pauses, and waits for you to mumble; “N-no. I’m fine. Don’t stop--”

“Good,” he praises, falling back into the rhythm he was working on. “Oh, look how well you’re taking me . . . Feel how tightly you’re holding onto me, darling. Mmm. Good, good—”

His thumb brushes the swollen nub of your clit.

That one you feel like it’s a bolt of Electro that zips up your spine and sets fire to all of your synapses; pleasure that has gasps dying in your throat, your body jerking. Zhongli still has that unshakeable smile on his face as his thumb continues to circle your clit, rubbing at it with persistent pressure. Muscles jump in your thighs, your skin quivering beneath his attentions. You’re squirming against your will, hot all over from the new feelings that Zhongli is coaxing forth – and he sees that you’re squirming, sees that you’re getting needy and whimpering with sweat beading on your forehead, and simply chuckles.

He shifts slightly, fingers still buried deep inside of you – and then, he’s on his knees between your legs and he’s leaning in closer and closer and--

You whine aloud as you feel that same long, forked tongue lap at your heated core. One of your hands comes immediately to tangle into his hair, as if by its own volition; silky strands slipping through your fingertips as you desperately try to ground yourself as Zhongli continues to finger you with one hand and lap and suck and lick at your clit with his tongue.

You can’t put a description to the feeling.

There’s a warm heat, a wetness, as the flexible muscle flicks over your swollen nub and swirls the tip around it, as soft lips close over it for the lightest suck only to immediately return to teasing it with ripples of the tongue. You’re helpless; floating on nothing but air, blood rushing in your ears, as Zhongli devours you once more.

He keeps making noises, too; the pleased sighs of a man who has finally been allowed to sample a delicious treat that he’s been longing to taste for longer than you’ll ever know. The noises make vibrations ripple through your body like a low hum, and then, again, you are lost in eddies of sensation – there is nothing left in the world but the steady thump of your heart, the rhythmic pumping of Zhongli’s fingers, the teasing sensation of his tongue as it works over your most intimate parts--

He makes a soft noise of encouragement against you and then does something with those fingers buried inside of you; crooks them up slightly, so they rub against a spot inside of you that you’ve never realised was there before until Zhongli sought it out with such ruthless precision, and then it is like you are tumbling over the edge of a great precipice. Sound rushes into your ears at the same time as sensations overwhelm you entirely, like the crashing of waves against the stern of a boat.

You feel yourself pulse around him; feel the little gush of your own wetness, hear yourself whimper and moan ‘oh, Archons--’ aloud, as if you are somewhere very far away from where all of this is going on. Zhongli guides you over the peak; slows his fingers somewhat, slows the rhythm of his tongue as the aftershocks of your orgasms slowly recede and you come down from the high of your peak slowly and dreamily.

You blink up at him, pleasure still clouding your thoughts – and Zhongli chuckles again.

“I must say,” he says, “if I were a different man, perhaps I’d be offended at you calling out for any other Archons. I’d far prefer to only hear my own name from that pretty mouth of yours.”

He pulls himself away from between your thighs and crawls higher on the bed – leans down to press another slow, lingering kiss onto your mouth. You can taste yourself on him, but it’s not unpleasant – when Zhongli’s tongue begs entrance to yours, you part your lips and let him claim you once more.

“Celestia themselves couldn’t find a taste sweeter than you,” he says, pulling back, his breath puffing against where your lips have been swollen from the kiss. “Mm. I could stay buried between your thighs for hours.”

Heat rushes to your face, but Zhongli merely smiles; presses a kiss against the apple of your cheeks, where it feels warmest and roundest. Brushes his lips across your cheekbone to whisper into your ear;

“Now,” he says. “Do you feel ready to continue? You need only say the word, you know that--”

“No,” you breathe. “I want to.”

“Good,” Zhongli says. He’s slow as he peels himself off of you; slow as his thumbs hook into the waistband of his underwear – and then, he’s pulling the fabric down his toned thighs, revealing the elegant v-line of his groin and . . .

Your eyes widen, and Zhongli chuckles.

“I wondered if you’d be surprised,” he says. “Don’t worry so. I don’t intend to hurt you. In fact . . .” He settles onto the space on the bed beside you, tugging gently at your wrist until your positions are somewhat reversed; he laid out beneath you, you on your knees before him. He slowly brings a hand down to what’s between his thighs; lazily pumps the first of his cocks, and then the second. “I wanted to switch positions, in order for you to be able to control the pace a little better.”

He reaches for you; captures your chin in his hands.

“Is this alright?” He murmurs, a soft question that fills you with warmth. Zhongli really meant it when he said he would not hurt you, and that he’d go as slowly as you desired. “You are free to terminate this contract at any time. You know that.”

You smile at him – chance another glance down, to where his cocks are standing erect and proud, glistening with pre-come, waiting for you to give them the attention that your body so desperately wishes to provide.

“It’s alright,” you tell him. “I want to.”

His smile is beatific; if you ever were to be bold enough to imagine what Rex Lapis’s smile would be like, before you knew the truth about Zhongli, you think you may very well have imagined his face all the same. He slides his thumb along your lower lip.

“I’m very glad,” he says – and then, he’s stripping off his gloves, and as you see how the darkness of his forearms tapers into fingers that are almost claws, you understand entirely why he’d left the gloves on as he’d prepared you for him.

“Set the pace,” he tells you. “Go as slowly as you need.”

Before everything that had occurred into the quiet solitude of Zhongli’s chamber, you would have felt nervous about how slow you are approaching his cocks – about the length of time that it takes you to find the right angle, to reach between the two of you and guide the tip of the lower cock to press against your opening. But Zhongli has been more than clear that he does not mind waiting; that his idea of a long time is almost entirely different from your own. And he’s soft-eyed as he watches you, murmuring little soft noises of encouragement and praise as you find the right positions, all the while looking at you with honeyed amber eyes that are so soft you feel like you could melt into them.

The head of his cock presses against the slick ring of muscle at your entrance, your thighs trembling as you rear up onto your knees – you feel him push you apart as you lower yourself slowly, feel the head of him working you open with every breath you take and every increment you sink down on him in.

It’s another sensation that’s mostly indescribable; a feeling of fullness, as you take him in as slowly as you can. Zhongli’s teeth grit, a huff of breath escaping his mouth – and his hands-claws come to rest on your hips, gripping you, keeping you rock-steady.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he says, as you take a moment to breathe. His other cock is brushing against your mound; you realise with a start that when you are able to begin bouncing in earnest, it will slip and slide wetly against your clit with every thrust. “You cannot imagine how good you feel, my darling.”

The Lord of Geo, you know, believes in things being slow and steady – and so he has no qualms as you take him at your own pace, the soft sounds of your own panting and his slightly more even breathing only broken up by the occasional wet sounds of you taking another inch of his cock inside of you.

When he has bottomed out inside of you, and his second cock is pressing flush against you, you take a moment to simply revel in the glory of succeeding in the task; of worshiping your Archon in the most intimate of ways. His thumbs stroke circles over your hips, waiting for you to make the first move and control exactly what pace the two of you are going to take this at.

“This is a most lovely view,” Zhongli tells you, and a soft, breathless laugh escapes you. Zhongli smiles. “I could stay here for hours, you know. Simply enjoying the feel of you clinging to me. Enjoying the view of that pretty face, that lovely body--”

You move experimentally; an inch or so, that you lift yourself off and then drive yourself back onto. Your eyes roll into the back of your head for a moment, a gasp catching in your throat – and Zhongli chuckles in that rich, dulcet tone. You repeat the motion with a little more confidence – and before you know it, you are bouncing on his cock.

It’s not a violent rhythm - it’s not even as fast as Zhongli’s fingers inside of you had been earlier on that evening. But it’s perfect for stoking a fire within you; perfect for letting his cock stroke against your velvety insides, seeking out every sweet spot and pushing mercilessly against it. Your own hands come to cling onto his broad shoulders as he assists you in your bouncing with a grip on your hips that is at once as hard as steel and as soft as satin.

His second cock does indeed slip wetly against your clit with each bounce.

Your body is still sensitive from the earlier attentions – and, if you are honest with yourself, you are still sensitive and overwhelmed from the thought that it is Zhongli here beneath you. Zhongli’s calm, elegant eyes watching you fuck yourself on his cock with hunger hiding behind his serene gaze. Zhongli’s voice sighing pleasantly, murmuring about how well you’re doing and how good you feel, how lovely you are for him.

Even if you did not know his secret, it would be more than overwhelming just to have the man who you have been nurturing a crush on want you so openly – but you do know his secret, and that makes it all the more exciting.

And it means that your second orgasm creeps up on you even faster, before you can even really register that it’s about to take hold of you.

You are simply bouncing on his cock, stoking a warmth inside of you with the stiff length of him, feeling yourself clench and pulse about him – and then it is like you are reaching the peak of a mountain.

This one is even more intense than the last; as if it comes from deeper within you, another place that you never even knew was hiding inside. You whine aloud, reaching down – surprised by your own daring – and muffling your noises with Zhongli’s mouth. For his part, he does not seem to mind – for when you kiss him and whimper against him, huffing and panting as pleasure suffuses all of your senses, he simply kisses you hungrily back.

It’s like a galaxy swirling inside of you; all heat and noise and rushing pleasure that overtakes you in every way one could ever imagine, a tightness and warmth that spreads from your fingertips and the tips of your toes to the centre of your body and explodes in a shower of sparks that makes stars dance behind your eyes.

“Good,” Zhongli breathes, when you break the kiss. “Oh, darling. I felt that.”

You’ve practically soaked the cock inside of you; you can feel your own wetness streaming down your thighs, making a mess of where the two of your bodies are joined. Zhongli’s cock inside of you is still just as hard as ever, though, and you feel your brow furrow.

“I want to make you c-come,” you admit to him, though the words sound terribly vulgar said aloud – if your head were not so fuzzy from your own pleasure, you’re certain you would have even more shame about it. As it is, though, all you can think is that it’s unfair that you have gotten to come under Zhongli’s touch and guidance twice, and he is still so hard that it must be painful.

“You won’t mind, then,” Zhongli purrs, “if I . . . switch our positions, a little?”

You shake your head. Before you have so much as finished the second turn, though, Zhongli has effortlessly swapped the two of you around; your back pressed against the sheets, he on his knees between your thighs – his hands gone from your hips to instead fasten about your upper thighs, pressing your knees against your chest and ensuring that your legs are spread wide.

You gasp at the show of strength. You do not consider yourself waif-like by any means; and yet Zhongli has swapped the two of you around as if you weigh no more than a feather. You would, if he’d told you his plan, surely whimpered and shyly confessed you feared you were too heavy for such a manouevre – but Zhongli has simply done it.

It makes you dizzy to think of what else he may be strong enough to do.

“May I have your permission?” He asks you – ever formal, ever intense about the exact bounds of the agreement the two of you are sharing. You do not know exactly what he is asking your permission for, but that doesn’t matter; you think, at this point in time, there is very little that you would not grant him leave to do. Your fingers once more curl into the sheets beneath you, and you nod wordlessly at Zhongli.

You know you must look like a devotee at a shrine, the way you are staring up at him with worship clear in your eyes – but that isn’t important either. In fact, as Zhongli draws back and then drives the length of his cock into you with a low groan of satisfaction, you can’t think of anything that matters half as much as the feel of the man who is currently fucking into you.

He takes a few strokes to establish his pace, but it is faster and deeper than anything has been so far – the position that the two of you are in allowing for his cock to reach further inside of you than it has before, stroke spots that have you whimpering and pulsing around him all over again. The slick noises of him fucking into you echo around the room – the head of his second cock once more catching your clit on every thrust.

This is for Zhongli, but that does not mean that it does not feel good for you too.

You lose sense of time once again, as Zhongli fucks into you with a fervent need. You cannot think of anything but the constant feel of his cocks rocking into you, the way that he fills you up – the noises of the two of you intermingling in the air, the way that Zhongli looks with his hair falling into his face and a single-minded determination in his expression that once more serves to remind you that he was a warrior God, once.

He kisses you, bites at your lips, huffs against your shoulders and neck and sucks possessive marks into your skin in the form of love-bites that once more have your back arching; he claims you. There is no better way to put it. You are something that belongs to Zhongli, now – one of Rex Lapis’s most devoted acolytes, through and through.

“Please,” you breathe up at him, fingers tightening on the fine fabric below you. “Please, I want to feel you come too . . . Sir--”

The last syllable – that polite little honorific, dropped from lips that have been haunting him for what feels like months – pushes him over the edge.

He twitches inside of you – groans, corkscrews his hips further and further into you. You feel the wet, full feeling of him releasing his come inside of you; ropes of his pearly fluid squelching inside of you, being fucked further in with the final few shakes of his hips. You shyly reach for his other cock yourself with one hand; fasten it about the thick length of him, slick with your arousal, and give it a final few pumps before he groans out your name again and more spurts of his release spatter across the softness of your stomach.

He blinks at you all hazy. It is not a look you would usually associate with a God; but it would be a lie to say that it does not make you feel warm and golden inside to see Zhongli looking at you with such deep affection, a smile softening his handsome face as he pulls out of you and you feel his come leak out too, pooling between your legs and on his sheets.

You don’t quite know what you’re expecting, after Zhongli has come. With him so lit from the glow of his own orgasm, it’s hard not to think of him as the Archon Rex Lapis; hard not to imagine that, now he’s had his fill of you, he will simply bid you leave him in peace. You’re not expecting him to roll off of you and then simply curl around you instead; wrap his arms around your body, still sticky with his release. You’re not expecting him to nuzzle his face against the crook of your neck, to murmur;

“Just a few moments. I want to enjoy this.”

It’s almost cute – he is like some kind of animal – like a dragon, curling around his most precious treasure, protecting you like you are a hoard of jewels and not merely yourself. He presses a kiss to your jaw and hums in contentment, as if he would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of the evening – or perhaps the rest of your life – simply lying there, with you.

“I hope, at least,” he breathes against the shell of your ear in that low, lilting voice that is one of the reasons you ended up in his bed in the first place, “that tonight has gone a ways towards showing you just how desirable you are, my dear.”

He pauses. Kisses, again, so tenderly that it makes you ache.

“Of course, if it didn’t, I’m more than happy to continue this little arrangement – if you’re amenable to that too, naturally.”

You’re more than amenable.

You have heard that Rex Lapis is not kind to those who break his contracts, agreements, arrangements and suchlike – thankfully, you have no intention of doing any such thing. You smile at him shyly and let yourself curl into his arms, too; feel his chest press against you, hear the beat of his heart.

“Ah, Mr Zhongli, Sir,” you say. “I think I may need to be shown again. Several times.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #chubby reader posting #not sfw #writing #commission tag #i LOVED writing this one and i love how it came out!!!#zhongli x you #chubby reader

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blueiight · 2 months

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Hiiii I love love love your analyses on Blackness in IWTV it really inspired me to start my own writing analysis on it too (specifically Black Gender/Queerness I'm currently reading "Sissy Insurgencies" by Marlon Ross & picked a little at "The Delectable " by Vincent Woodward)

I wanted to know if the fandom has a list where to find full cast interviews via print/digital/podcast. I'm not big into fandoms so I have no clue where/how to look outside of whatever snippets get posted on tumblr but I wanted to see if JA has ever spoken about his biracialness in specific comparison/contrast to Louis (assumingely) being MGM Creole? Also if he's ever compared/contrasted his Carib heritage w/ Louisianan.

hello<3 thank u n im really happy ur reading and taking up ur own perspective on the series i really appreciate hearing this i do love the idea of ppl going beyond the rudimentary plz dm if ur out there. regarding ur second question yk iwtv fandom would never do something tht useful but jacob has spoke to that in the abstract sense on this podcast - a sense of feeling at ‘home’ in new orleans & speaking to his own upbringing in contrast while the hosts explicitly draw the comparison to their shared caribbean backgrounds in describing feeling the same in antigua & so on. theres a few other interviews where he briefly speaks of louis’s heritage(& a bizarre blip in some Q&A where he thinks book louis is creole and tries to be like hey theyre both creoles. welll book louis isnt creole not necessarily bc of his race but bc he was not born on colonial louisiana’s territory, he was born in france and mentions the boat ride to louisiana from france.) bailey here tries to make a similar comparison w her own heritage but seems to have conflated creoles in louisiana with ls mixed race folk, but creoles (+ cajuns) in louisiana originally referred to french people/speakers born in the louisiana colony from other french people + other groups within louisiana (which is once again, why book louis would not necessarily be such) + now refers to ppl who have ancestral ties to louisiana prior to the american acquisiton. its become quasi racialized post us purchase bc americans r extractive of these cultures while trying to eliminate them too. (legally banning the languages, beating children who do speak creole+ cajun, etc etc)

i know i went on a tangent. all of this is to just to open the floor to more interview/podcast/archival fans who may have more relevant interviews ur looking for

#yn.#yn answers #should this go in the iwtv tag #idk

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furys-mercy · 8 months

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LRFP: SEEKING VENUES & COMMUNITIES

Hello again folks!

Having finished my move and fully returned from my hiatus, I now find myself in search of some RP. But I am looking for something fairly specific.

While I have had no problem finding regency-themed and upscale venues and RP communities for Mercer's brother, Sebastian, I am finding it difficult to locate the opposite for Mercer within Ishgard. While I am happy to hear about dive bars and gambling dens outside of Ishgard, I am really looking to find a few corners of the Ishgard RP community that are centered around the experiences of common folk and Brume rats. While I love the upper crust as much as the next guy, Mercer is my main man, and I really want to find him places to be where he isn't viewed as inherently less by the nature of the theming of the group. With that said, here is a TLDR list of what I am looking for. This list is not all inclusive. If you know of a place that might interest me, please hit me up! Interested in: »» In-Game RP »» RP Venues »» Dive Bars »» Gambling Halls »» Seedier/Dingier Venues »» Biiiig bonus if these venues are in Ishgard »» Discord Communities / FCs focused on Ishgard from the common perspective

Not interested in: »» Venues ICly located in Hingashi. Sorry folks. Mercer has IC reasons for never setting foot in Hingashi.»» Upscale Venues »» Venues or Communities focused on nobility or the upper crust of Ishgard (or any other city state).

How to contact me: »» Feel free to message me here on Tumblr, contact me in-game on August Mercer, Teo Linh, or Sebastian Vairemont or reach out on Discord (weezled). »» I am available for RP most nights starting at 7 PM EST until around Midnight EST. I do work and frequent other venues on Sebastian, so I will also be working around that schedule. But I am sure we can make it work.

#lfrp #ffxiv lfrp #ffxiv rp #lfrp ffxiv #mooglemeet #ishgard rp #brume rp

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thrashkink-coven · 7 months

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Let’s talk about Angels!

Hello all,

I am an eclectic witch and I have been working (seriously) with a few angels, mostly Jophiel, Haniel, and Raziel, and a couple others, for about 4 or so years.

Many folks on seem very interested in summoning and contacting angels. I wanted to share some of my insight with you guys as someone who works primarily with angels. I’d love to hear your guys’ perspectives on them as well.

Something to keep in mind: My experiences and perspectives on these infinitely complex and impossible to understand entities are not the one true most valid ones. My experiences will be different from yours and that is okay and to be expected. While we can always converse and theorize together we must always respect and understand that we really truly don’t know shit 🖤🖤

So you wanna contact an angel. What does that mean?

One of the most important things we humans have to consider when working with angels is that our matter of perspective is super important to how we classify entities.

What are considered angels to some, are gods and demons to others. We consider angels to be angelic because of their nature and attitudes, but it is incredibly important to remember that just because one entity may be called “angel” and the other “demon” does not mean that the angel is this happy go lucky chummy fellow, and the demon is some evil bringer of chaos. Both of these entities are capable of being kind, loving and helpful, and both will quickly put you in your place if pushed to. Both will be willing to work with you regardless of your faith and what gods you follow. The difference between these two entities is more political than physiological.

I have consistently observed with many angels that you do not necessarily have to be religious to work with them. They are very subordinate to the idea of God, whichever God that may be for you, but it is not mandatory. They may ask you to consult “God”, but I have come to realize that they mean something totally different than we do when they use the word “God.” (That is super super important imo)

When I first started working with Jophiel, I only “worshipped” the mother goddess. With him we dabbled with YHVH and some others before becoming comfortable where we are now. With every God I’ve worked with, my angels have adjusted accordingly. Some may speak occasionally about “The one true God”, but again, I don’t think that’s something that we have the best understanding of as a species yet.

Invoking angels “in the name of ______” increases their strength and likelihood of manifesting in my experience as, angels naturally serve and aid God. God means many things. For example, an angel I work with who is very close to Father Lucifer will manifest far better when invoked in the name of Lucifer. My saint Haniel manifests with greater ease when invoked in the name of The Mother Moon or Lady Venus. I’ve played around with this a lot and it seems that angels just like to be aided in their energy when we call on them by a “greater” power. Some food for thought!

Believing in the angel themselves definitely is required as this is a demonstration of faith, but angels are not as concerned with religion as you may think. Some may insist that you are some kind of believer, some are very closed to YHVH, others are less so. Some will want you to be some kind of monotheist, others won’t have an opinion on that whatsoever.

Different angels have different natures, classes, and orders. It’s a good idea to have a very great understanding of angelic hierarchy before doing any kind of work with them. A seraphim for example may present themselves far differently than a Cherub, an archangel, or a lesser angel. Fallen angels may act differently as well. Each angel will have their own energy, opinions on things, and correspondences. Some angels are very fond of humanity and are very willing to be of assistance in magical operations. Some angels are very indifferent towards humanity and might not want anything to do with you. If you’re repeatedly being told no, do yourself a favour and leave them alone.

Don’t make this mistake of underestimating them because they are classified as a “lesser” angel or are not considered a “Great Saint” like Micheal or Raphael. The order of the hierarchy does not necessarily speak to importance or power, just their distance away from us on Earth.

Some angels are more accustomed to modern humans, crack jokes, and are in the know about pop culture , others may speak in very broken english and lots of things may seem to go over their heads. Some angels are very physical and will want to touch or caress you, some will keep their distance. Some angels enjoy sex and others don’t have any ability to experience it. All angels have a completely different set of morals than we do. They may seem aloof or ornery at times. Don’t assume they’re evil just because they don’t come off as enthusiastic.

No two angels are the same. Don’t contact Raphael and expect the experience to be anything like contacting Raziel. Make sure you know exactly who you’re contacting and that you have a good reason. Know what they are all about and what they represent. Don’t assume that what worked for one guy is gonna work for someone else. Likewise I suggest not talking badly on any other entities while in an angels presence, even demons or beings you think are “bad”. Many of these angels are related in ways we might not know. Don’t make the assumption that Micheal “hates all demons”. Talking bad on Asmodeus isn’t gonna gain you points with Raphael.

Avoid testing them by asking them questions like what happens after you die. Some may humour you but it’s generally considered rude and they are not here to spill the beans on all of the great secrets of life. Some might, but always ask these questions with reverence and accept “none of your business kid” as a valid answer.

Angels are quite proud of their names and will usually announce them upon arrival. Likewise they will likely correct you if you have them confused for someone else. Always be willing and ready to interrogate your angel in a safe and respectful way. It is important that you are knowledgeable on tricksters.

When you’re working with angels, be sure not to underestimate them. They are not your pets and they do not exist to make you feel good about yourself. They do not exist to simply tell you good things. They are brutally honest.

Higher angels, like Archangels, are *intense* and burn *very bright*. I’ve seen many people share the idea that unlike working with a demon, there are no prices to be paid when working with an angel. This is only half true. Angels usually don’t accept offerings, they don’t make traditional deals like other spirits may. But, they are an incredibly holy and intense thing to witness. Their presence can be mind altering. You really really need to mentally and physically prepare yourself for such an encounter. They will never make any attempts to harm you on purpose (unless you’re extremely out of line), but it can happen on accident if you aren’t being careful. It is in many ways like looking directly into the sun. This will likely exhaust you. Take breaks and don’t go too hard too fast. Some angels are more considerate than others.

Many higher angels don’t fuck around. These guys are not really beginner friendly. An angel like Michael is a holy warrior and is going to expect that you are committed and disciplined. He is a gargantuan energy and the ultimate protector. Do not flagrantly call upon his energy. Not to say that Michael is not incredibly kind and considerate, but that his energy is so INTENSE that his presence should only be invoked with intention.

The angel I work most often with sometimes appears in a form that is so huge I cannot see the top of him, like a mountain. He can appear truly terrible like an Erdrich horror. Other times they can appear so bright that it feels like my eyes might fry out of my skull. Sometimes they can be extremely loud, like cracking thunder. Other times they can seem extremely quiet, like they’ve muted the whole world. They can appear in human or animal form. Male, female, or something in between. Sometimes they just appear as rays of light or waves of energy. We must be not afraid even when they are being weird as fuck lol.

There are many methods. I like to use sigils and scrying mirrors as well as their names as a mantra for meditation. Whatever works for you is valid. 🖤🖤

#witchcraft #magick #occultism #witch community #paganism #witch aesthetic #demonology #grimoire #pagan #witchblr #angels #angelology #archangel #biblically accurate angel #seraphim #cherubim

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astriiformes · 1 year

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It may feel like we have too much visibility this TDOV, but I know the moments that have brought me the most joy as a trans person were all about being visible, and nobody gets to take that away from me, or anyone else. No matter how dark the world gets.

I love wearing Pride pins while doing science outreach and having teens come up and tell me their hopes for the future because they were so excited to meet a trans person doing museum work. I love hearing them whisper not-quite-out-of-earshot about how happy it made them. I love marching in Pride parades dressed as a trans character, played by a trans actor, carrying a trans flag and seeing people along the street point excitedly and tear up. I love hearing that my own cosplay pictures made other trans people more confident in the hobby. I love speaking up about the trans perspective in my classes and making trans art and writing papers on trans topics. I love researching trans history. I love being a part of it. I love teaching folks who want to learn how to be better allies to me and people like me. I love working in a queer history archive and feeling connected to the trans people who came before me, and to the ones who will come after.

It's also been hard, and I've been scared, and what's happening right now is heartbreaking on every level. But I love living as an out trans person and I love my trans family, and the worse things get, the more I know I want to fight for us to keep every bit of joy we can.🏳️‍⚧️

#transblogging

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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robin and reader being complete opposites but dating and after a while all robin can talk about is how cool vicky is and stuff and readers hurt robin doesnt talk about her that way but with a happy ending

LOOOOOOOVE

"It's so cool to have other friends who also like women- ya know? Like she's great and she has like this great perspective on how society views lesbians and other people who like people outside of the norm." Robin sighs with a bright grin, fiddling with her fingers as she stretches across my bed.

I just smile sadly, continuing my scribbles in my notebook, studying hard for my upcoming exam. Her words hurt and I know that she doesn't realize it, that she thinks she's going on and on about friends.

But instead, she's talking about another woman to her girlfriend.

"You okay babe? You're awfully quiet over there." She snorts, tossing a pillow at the back of my chair and I huff, spinning my chair around to look at her fully. She's got a huge smile on her face, completely the opposite of the scowl that lines my lips.

We're so different, down to our personalities but at first it's what drew me to her. She's so bubbly and smart and things come so easily to her but she sucks in social situations. I on the other hand have such a hard time being as peppy as her but I can handle social situations like a champ- maybe cuz I'm too grumpy for people to approach me.

"I'm alright. It's just kind of weird to hear you go on and on about another woman who also likes woman." I huff, tucking my legs up to my chest as her face drops and she's sitting up in an instant, folding her legs beneath her. Her eyes flicker across my conflicted expression, her brows furrowing when she sees that I'm obviously upset.

"I missed a fundamental social cue again, didn't I?" She asks with a cringed smile, reaching up to grip at her hair before blowing out a breath. "Shit- I've been going on and on about other girl and you've been sitting her worrying about your math test- I'm sorry." She groans, moving to walk across the room and she immediately wraps her arms around my shoulders.

"It's okay. I know you're excited about having a new friend." I whisper, hesitantly wrapping my arms around her but there's a sense of sadness lacing my tone.

"Still, there's a line and I crossed it. I'm sorry." She whispers, pressing a kiss to the side of my head before pulling back. "Enough about me and my friend- which is all she is- tell me about trigonometry."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane2828 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi

@crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @minjix @luvrosee

#robin #robin x reader #robin buckley #robin buckley x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic

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addictedtostorytelling · 2 months

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Hi aj! I’m the rewatch anon and I just got started on the miniature case (my first time actually rewatching those as I only rewatched dead/living doll) and I just love how both Grissom and Sara are the leads on the first case, def foreshadowing. ANYWAY despite the angst that I know it’s coming with the sabbatical, I just love how lovey dovey and cute they are with each other for the first few eps. Do you suppose at this point they’re more sure of what their relationship is? I mean S6 felt slightly off balance for them at times but S7 just gives us a sense that they’re very happy together and sure of their relationship. What do you think?

hi, rewatch anon!

good to hear from you again!

so my answer to your question is kind of a roundabout one.

i'll start by saying: mine is an unpopular opinion, but i don't actually think s6 is as volatile a period in grissom and sara's relationship as many other fans do.

while a lot of folks suppose grissom and sara spend much of s6 fighting, only to get their shit figured out come s7, i'm not convinced that there is any legitimate/protracted conflict happening between them early on.

i have a couple of longer posts explaining my stance—and specifically my takes on the two episodes most fans would point to as being potential evidence that all is not right in gsrland during that time (i.e., episodes 06x03 "bite me" and 06x12 "daddy's little girl")—here and here, if you're interested.

but the tl;dr version is that i think that from the moment grissom and sara first get together in late s5 or early s6, they both realize the significance of what they're doing for themselves.

the risk that becoming a couple poses—not just to their careers but to their very hearts—is high enough that neither one of them undertakes the decision at all lightly; both of them know, from the get-go, that they are making a life-changing move and, moreover, consider their romance to be a "for life" kind of thing.

as i've talked about here, i believe they both are aware very early on that they want to marry each other.

that said, i also think that early on they both are somewhat worried that the other person may not be as "all in" as they are themselves, and that uncertainty is a source of insecurity for them, especially on sara's side of things.

consequently, i imagine that in the immediate aftermath of them getting together, there is some tentativeness on both sides—a kind of nervousness about trying on new labels and suggesting further changes to their situation (such as possibly moving in together), with both of them trying to hold back so as not to "come on too strong too fast" and freak the other person out.

some of this anxiety, of course, is internal: they both have fairly poor self-esteems and doubt their own lovability in the long term.

however, some is also part and parcel of their situation: the fact that their relationship is and must remain a secret from everyone who matters to them complicates what they're doing together and (especially for sara) raises questions about what to expect in their future.

how can they ever take things to "the next level" if they constantly have to hide the very fact that they're together?

to my mind, that's the only real source of disequilibrium for them during s6—not any actual tension or fighting, but just a kind of diffident, unspoken wondering of "does s/he feel as strongly as i do? is s/he in this for life like i am?"

otherwise, their early relationship is very happy and that they both generally feel very safe and secure with each other.

from that perspective, my take is that what changes for them between s6 and s7 isn't anything having to do with them figuring out their feelings for each other; as stated, to my mind, they've both known, from the beginning, that theirs was a "till death do us part" kind of bond.

in fact, i would go as far as to say: i don't think they would have ever even gotten together had they not both individually felt that level of commitment from the beginning. it was a "this risk is only worth it because you are my one true love and i want to be with you forever" sort of deal.

rather, the shift has more to do with them becoming more confident in the other person's feelings and comfortable in their particular circumstances, navigating their secret romance.

while there are still some question marks, especially for sara, with regards to the whole "does the other person really want to be with me forever?" deal, by and large, the longer grissom and sara are together, the more secure they become in their bond.

grissom starts to get it through his head that despite what he had always feared prior to them getting together, sara isn't going to up and leave him the second he shows any signs of weakness. he learns to trust in her devotion and constancy.

likewise, sara comes to understand that (unlike everyone else she's ever known) grissom isn't about to bounce the second her jagged edges come out. he knows her past, he is cognizant of her issues, and he still loves her all the same. she doesn't have to worry about being too much for him to handle.

though for as long as their relationship must remain a secret to everyone else in the wider world, there is still some uncertainty, particularly on sara's end of things, regarding what their endgame might be, by s7, they've gotten over that initial "if i show too much of my heart, the other person is going to leave me" hang-ups.

—and especially because, by this point, they've really carved out a life together that works for them.

early on, when they first begin seeing each other in vegas, the precarity of their situation definitely contributes to their trepidations regarding the long-term viability of their relationship.

"secret dating"—and hiding their relationship from their trained observer coworkers—is hard work, and it plays into those "what if things get too hard? will s/he leave me?" fears they both have to start out with.

but, again: the longer they stay together and the more they get the hang of balancing their home and work lives, the more at ease they become. after two years of being together, they've figured out a functional system; learned how to keep their thing on the dl. they don't feel that same imminent threat of being discovered that they did in the nascent days of their relationship—not necessarily because the threat itself has actually diminished but rather because they've become so expert in avoiding detection.

by early s7, they're at a point where they feel like they can really have it all: they can maintain the same arrangements that they've always had at work, with grissom being sara's boss and both of them working together (even frequently as partners), while also, after hours, living in the same condo and having a dog and sleeping wrapped up together in the same bed. it's the best of both worlds.

they're supremely comfortable.

the only thing that at all is disquieting to them at this point is their mounting dissatisfaction with having to keep their whole relationship a secret.

however, even though that concern looms, they're not yet ready to broach the topic aloud with each other, as neither one of them wants to upset the delicate balance they've struck.

they both try (instead) to just live in the moment and not worry overmuch about the future.

—and, to my mind, they're largely successful.

like you say, early s7 is a pretty blissful time for them.

jorja fox has talked about how she literally played those episodes as if she were acting in a romcom, and her approach definitely shows.

grissom and sara both just seem happy and well, especially around each other. while eventually some professional burnout will start to sneak in on grissom's side, early on in the miniature case, at least, they are both invigorated and clearly enjoying life.

though they both secretly yearn for more—again, grissom very much has marrying sara on his mind, long before he proposes to her in s8—they're also very satisfied with what they currently have.

like sara will later say in her letter from episode 08x07 "goodbye & good luck," their life together has become a home, and they are both settled and happy.

as a fan, it's very fun to watch—especially before things become more chaotic at the end of s7.

thanks for the question! please feel welcome to send another any time.

#answered #anon #asks: csi #**#my meta #meta: csi #meta: gsr #season six #season seven #csiverse #let's talk shop

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musewrangler · 3 months

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20 Questions for Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @wendingways I'm FINALLY getting around to it. :D

How many works do you have on AO3?

132

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

2, 962, 169

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars, Hornblower, Narnia [just one]

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Mirjahaal

Bajur

He Who Sheds His Blood With Me

Forging Ahead

I Felt You In My Bones

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do as much as possible. I appreciate my readers making time to say something. It takes effort on their part and I want them to know I am grateful. Equally, I get lots of fun thoughts from my readers and it's delightful to interact with people. :D

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Oh definitely the fic I could never write. ;D By which I mean---there was a prompt somewhere that said 'the aftermath of a scene you'll never write'. So I knew immediately what that was and ripped my own heart out to write "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night". Literally, I was ugly crying the whole time. And it convinced me that nope, I can never do this in my 'real' fics if you will. xD

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmmm. I am a girl who likes a happy ending. Granted, it's after kark tons of pain and suffering usually xD, but...

I think I'll land on the Dragon Speaker. I could name quite a few others, but I spent more time developing the happy aftermath so that's why I choose it.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

I've said it before---I have some of the BEST readers. And I've had folks who've disagreed with some of my takes on character or plot, but they are welcome to do so if they are respectful and they are. It produces good conversation and perspective. I can think of one time I had someone actively unpleasant, but let's hear it for delete and block! :D

9. Do you write smut?

Nope.

10. Do you write crossovers?

No. It's just not my cup of tea.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of and I hope not. Obviously, a lot of us have similar ideas----writing is just like that. But I don't think anyone has taken my work directly. That kind of thing does get me riled up because I know the work all of us creators have done to make these stories. Don't do it, kids.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes I have and it's very fun! I have a very industrious and delightful reader who has translated a lot of my work into Russian. :D

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

I have a few times. :D

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

Depends on context here. I don't read or write fics for just romance. I need purpose beyond the couple if you will. If we're talking within Star Wars then canonically it's Han and Leia. If we're going with my own fanfics it's a toss up between Mara and Max Veers and Firmus Piett and Sola Naberrie. ;D If we're talking broad literary ship Benedick and Beatrice from Much Ado About Nothing.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

WIP I will never finish? What are you talking about?

Genuinely, I hate the idea of abandoning my fics. Just can't. Some of them are taking longer than I had thought, but that's ok. Life happens. I will finish. ;D

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I think I develop character fairly well. I like to have a plot mapped out before I start writing, so I think I do all right with story cohesion and flow. I am a firm believe that you need to care about the characters more than anything else. World building and correct editing are good things, but if no one cares about your characters, it can get boring and readers lose interest.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

A good balance of action, description, and dialogue. Dialogue is easy for me and I like the characters interacting. But action and description are very important as well to SEE the scene and I need to work on my descriptive choices. I'm also ridiculously impatient. I want to publish NOW. And this means that perhaps some needed editing or more polish/depth is overlooked. I'm working on that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Absolutely. I've used mando'a a lot now in Star Wars. In history AUs I've dabbled a smidge in French and Latin to set the tone a bit. Definitely do your homework whether using a real or fictional language. People notice!! :D

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Haha. So in terms of more serious writing like I'm doing now, it's Star Wars.

But.

I wrote by hand in notebooks during high school for the original Star Trek. Had all kinds of crush on Pavel Chekov. xD We watched the re runs of it and I liked the movies as a kid so....

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Oh goodness. Can that really be answered? I like them all for vastly different reasons. If we're going for world building then likely Dragon Speaker. If we're going for in depth history fun, then The War in the Shadows. If we're going for fic I saw most clearly in my brain as I wrote and LIVED it, then Showdown at Alliance Ranch. Within the ER verse, quite possibly Fidelity because writing all that courtroom drama and the intense brotherhood of Firmus and Max going through that was just so satisfying.

But over all story? Honestly can't pick just one. Sorry!

Gently tagging @hollers-and-holmes @winterinhimring @kraytwriter @kanerallels

#questions for writers #writers #writing #fan fic #authors #my writing #creative process #characters #plot #good questions #writing process

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memaidraws · 3 months

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On Repeat Playlist Tag Game

Rules: Shuffle your repeat playlist 10 times and tag 10 people. Tagged by @flymmsy 😘

If you've ever wanted to laugh at my musical tastes, no better opportunity now, folks!

I know a lot of you guys are within the venn diagram of shared/mutual fandoms, so what I'll do for this (to make things interesting) is assign a pairing for each song and a wee rationale as to why ;)

Tagging: @defira85 @atypicalacademic @dirty-bosmer @henbased @braindancer @feykiller @vasiktomis @circlejourney @chickenparm @sweatandwoe (sorry if you've been tagged before!)

SHEPARD / GARRUS (Mass Effect) Okay, Reina's technically not 'Shepard', and this is a big cheat because Jeon Somi is her voice claim haha. Definitely a song she's released out of spite when Garrus all but disappeared to play vigilante on Omega ;)

MARTIN SEPTIM / MARINA CORVUS (TES IV: Oblivion) Listen, listen, this song is so perfectly them it actually kind of hurts a lot. To people that surrounded Martin, Emperor-to-be, Marina was exactly the kind of troublemaker they needed him to stay away from. But to Brother Martin the man made of flesh? She was everything to him uwu

GORTASH / DURGE (Baldur's Gate III) Come on now, the lyrics are PERFECT for a Durge lamenting about the big dumb crush she's got on Enver and oh my god? He likes her back? (She says, kicking her feet in the air, after a bloody massacre, much to Sceleritas Fel's dismay)

MAYOR HANCOCK / LEE (Fallout 4) UGH oh my god so I know Lee Know from Stray Kids is his faceclaim but this song is very much them. Wanting to run away, seeking freedom where they can take it? Not wanting to take shit for all the crap that's been thrown their way? Yeah <3 Maybe for a modern AU <3

GORTASH / DARK URGE (Baldur's Gate III) It's not cheating! If Kill! Kill! Kill! was from Durge's perspective, I can see this being from Gortash's perspective (the fact this is one genuine emo/alt??? perfect for Gorty's aging rockstar look). Like come on, it's in the name, the lyrics, the screamo bridge? Davey Havok knows what's up.

ONMUND / ALREK (TES V: Skyrim) Oh man. Oh man so this particular album from Bastille has been very Onmund/Alrek coded to me (for reasons I won't get into yet ;D) But this is very much like Alrek watching the world quite literally burn and the only thing he can think of is courting the cute mage and throwing all his cares into the wind. After all, when the world's ending, why does any of it matter?

CAPT DELACOURT / MC (Heart of a Sky Pirate) Hey, my otome game officially lives on an app, so this counts ;D But these more upset, shanty-esque songs definitely reminds me of Delacourt and his romance route. Throwing your cares to the wind (literally) and having a grand ol' time no matter where the adventure takes you.

F!SOLE SURVIVOR / CURIE (Fallout 4) Hear me out: I think Parker's (my sole) romance with Curie is almost highschool puppy love. And it doesn't help that they both have some pretty huge baggage that they need to work through-- so having someone to lean on and love in a way that's easy, carefree and happy? Yeah they're gonna hold onto that <3

STELLE / MARCH 7TH (Honkai: Star Rail) Forever crying that my Caelus is getting so many better pulls than my Stelle, but fwiw, I definitely think Stelle and March have a very fun, easy-going relationship. Kinda need to when you're Trailblazing across the galaxy in a giant space train (and angering gods along the way, oops!)

GALE DEKARIOS / TAV (Baldur's Gate III) Hear me out: I think these two would be so into each other in the way that they absolutely would not leave each other alone. You think Astarion/Tav is bad? These two have it worse. To be more precise, my Tav for this romance, Rae, is very much into exploring his romantic curiosities with Gale. No one else makes him feel as safe and wanted uwu

#music tagged #if you weren't tagged and wanna participate go ahead!#just say I tagged you and I'll come check it out!#no obligation btw to those who were tagged!#Spotify

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learnfromdiana · 1 year

Text

Hey, hey, hey, what's up my beautiful people! It's your favorite blogger, back at it again with another hot take on a topic we haven't covered yet. Today, I want to talk about something near and dear to my heart: self-care.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Diana already talks about self-care all the time, what could you possibly have to say about it?" Well, my friends, let me tell you, I have a unique perspective on this whole self-care thing that I think you'll appreciate.

See, when it comes to self-care, everyone always talks about bubble baths, face masks, and meditation. And don't get me wrong, those things are great and all, but they're not the only ways to take care of yourself. Personally, I like to take care of myself by indulging in a little retail therapy.

That's right, I said it. Shopping is my self-care. Now, before you judge me, hear me out. There's something about buying a new outfit or a fancy gadget that just makes me feel good. It's like a little pick-me-up, you know? And when I feel good, I'm more likely to take care of myself in other ways, like eating healthier or exercising.

But here's the thing, I'm not talking about going into debt for the sake of self-care. That's not self-care, that's self-sabotage. What I'm talking about is setting aside a little money each month to splurge on something that makes you happy. Maybe it's a new book, a fancy candle, or even a new piece of furniture for your home. Whatever it is, make sure it's something that brings you joy.

At the end of the day, self-care is all about doing what works for you. If bubble baths and face masks do the trick, then great! But if you're like me and shopping is your therapy, don't be ashamed to indulge every once in a while. Just make sure you're doing it responsibly and not putting yourself in financial jeopardy.

That's all for now, folks. Until next time, keep taking care of yourselves, whatever that looks like for you. Peace out!

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