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sbdskate · 2 months

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Pencils Down (18+) - Daniel Ricciardo x lawyer!fem!reader

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: At the end of the 2022 F1 season, Daniel Ricciardo finalizes his legal affairs by signing as a reserve driver with Red Bull. The tempting young associate who’s handled the negotiations is no longer off limits.

Warnings (18+): language, *smut (!!!), dry humping, oral (f receiving), fingering, NSFW

Word Count: 2,957

A/N: Surprise! This is an alternate Laws Of Attraction scene that I turned into a one shot. Initially, I had written the hook up to happen immediately after the contract signing, but realized it disrupted the flow of the story. That being said, I still want it to see the light of day. If you're new here: (1) welcome! (2) if you liked it and want the full story, you can find it here. Again, new to smut writing so feedback is always welcome and appreciated. Thank you!

Daniel Ricciardo had finally signed with Red Bull as a reserve driver. After a tumultuous 2022 season filled with lots of lows, you had been the one shiny bright spot as he navigated what his future might look like in the sport. Everybody seemed to have an opinion and something to say, though rarely to his face – how many times had he read in the press that he was “washed up” or that “his career is over” if he didn’t get a primary seat on the grid. But you’d listened to him and supported him as you traversed the fallout with McLaren’s termination and braved negotiations with other teams. Granted, as his lawyer it was your job to act as his fiduciary so he shouldn’t have read as much into it as he did. But from Belgium to Abu Dhabi, he shared his hopes and dreams with you for now and for the future and you received his words with care and without judgment.

Stress, despair, and proximity created the ultimate concoction that laminated the bond between attorney and client. The more time you spent together, the more you learned about each other, and the harder it was to keep personal feelings from muddling the professional relationship. He watched as you navigated worlds surrounded by men, both in Daniel’s field and yours, and he admired your wit, intellect and steadfast determination in the face of being constantly undermined and underestimated. And you, ever the skeptic and cautious to a fault, couldn’t help but succumb to the charm of the handsome driver even when he was at his worst.

Which brought you to the hallway of Red Bull hospitality, the ink from his signature still wet on the new contract for the 2023 season. The other lawyers and representatives had cleared out, leaving the two of you to contemplate whether the little touches and prolonged glances over the last three months were more than they seemed.

“So that’s it?”

“Yeah.”

“Pencils down.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not your client anymore.”

“Correct, I no longer represent you.”

“Now what?”

The irony of the situation was not lost on either of you. After months of buildup and counting down the seconds until the end of your attorney-client representation, you were stuck in a country that criminalized PDA and the cohabitation of unmarried couples. He was scheduled to go back to Perth and you back to the New York office of your law firm tomorrow. You hadn’t allowed your daydreams to get this far and you were stumped.

“I don’t know.” The universe was cruel and unforgiving. You checked your surroundings and bit your lip in frustration.

“Follow me,” he whispered. “I know a place.”

You followed the driver a pace or two behind in silence as you tracked the maze of Red Bull hospitality, cutting through the kitchen, hallways and corridors, until you reached Max’s driver’s room. He closed the door and locked it behind you. He grabbed your hands.

“Tell me you don’t want this. And I’ll leave you alone. You’ll never have to see me again.” His voice was low and gruff, in a way you had never heard before. He squeezed your hands, eyes pleading, trying to convey more than he could put into words in the moment.

You shook your head in disbelief that somehow that was the conclusion he had come to. You cupped his face with your hand, thumb rubbing along his stubbled jaw line. Your voice was soft, barely able to get the words out.

“I want this. I want you. Please.”

You didn’t have to say it twice. His lips crashed into yours in a passionate kiss that almost knocked you off your feet. Months of pent-up sexual tension and mutual curiosity were released in an instant. Your hands roamed each other’s bodies, too many places to explore to stay in one place. Your hands finally found a home in his soft, beautiful curls while his hand firmly held the base of your neck. His other hand rubbed circles around your lower back, cautiously moving downwards. You smiled into the kiss and moved his hand to your bottom, granting permission to proceed.

Having the green light, he moved his other hand down to grab a handful of your ass and picked you up. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him as he pushed you up against the wall. The hem of your pencil skirt scrunched up at your waist. The thin fabric of your underwear and the bulge of his pants caused friction against your sensitive clit, and you wiggled your hips to get more from the sensation. You kissed him back with ferocity in an attempt to stifle the moans you desperately wanted to scream out, especially as you felt him harden from the contact. You pouted when he pulled away, only for his lips to land on the sensitive spot on your neck. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, unfortunately with too much gusto causing a loud *thud* when your head hit the wall. He immediately stopped.

“Are you ok?” His concern was immediately replaced by giggles when he saw you laughing. “Shhhh we still need to be quiet.”

“I know, I know,” you said between fits of laughter. “It’s just – are we crazy? We’re in a glorified closet with paper thin walls.” You paused, your laughter slowing. “Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” you said with a sympathetic smile. He gave you a chaste kiss.

“If it were up to me,” Your eyes rolled back as his lips met the column of your neck again. “I’d wine and dine you so hard,” *peck* “maybe somewhere in Monaco,” *peck* “and then take you home and fuck you on the balcony.” You were practically drooling by the time he pulled away to look at you. “This is nowhere close to being good enough for what you deserve. We can stop whenever you want.”

You looked at him, dazed. His warm chestnut brown eyes were so earnest, but it was hard to keep your head straight with him still firmly pressed against you. You absentmindedly wiggled again but he steadied your hips with his fingers. He pressed his forehead to yours.

“I need you to use your words. Do you want to stop?” You frowned.

“No,” you paused. “But I don’t know if I want to continue here.”

“There’s always tonight.” Skeptical, you raised an eyebrow.

“Go on?”

“Well, I can come to your room once all the festivities are over and everyone goes to bed. If you’ll have me, of course.” You swooned.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I already told you I want you. It’s risky though, no?”

“I mean yeah, a little. But …” he grabbed your wrists and pinned them besides your head. “…trying not to get caught is half the fun.” His hot breath tickled your face. All sense of logic and reason went out the window. As a lawyer, this whole situation went against your very nature of rule following.

“Oh,” was all you could croak out.

“Can I do something for you before we go outside?”

“Please,” you begged, eliciting a wicked smirk from him. It dawned on you that he enjoyed seeing you frazzled. But you enjoyed it too. Considering how intense your job was, the mental reprieve was just as thrilling as his touch.

Peeling you from the wall, he continued to hold you until he sat down on the massage table so that you were straddling him. Free from you prior constraints, you rolled your hips over his hardened bulge as you made out. His hands moved from your ass to unbutton your shirt partially, just enough to expose your breasts. He moved a hand to cup one, gently rolling a thumb over your unlined bra where your nipple lay beneath. He separated from the kiss to make his way south, not missing the opportunity to take you in.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. He remembered when you burst into his own room just a few weeks ago to apologize for abandoning him in Austin. Flushed rosy cheeks, messy hair, clothes disheveled, panting - as you were now. He loved how easily he could make you come undone and that only he could ever see you this way. He raised his hips to meet yours when his mouth finally landed on your neck again. You leaned forward and gently bit his shoulder to suppress the noises that threatened to spill from your lips as you bucked your hips. Not trusting your ability to stay quiet, you began leaving a trail of kisses starting at his jaw and down his neck. He stopped you part way down his chest when he realized what you were doing, grabbing your hips roughly. You looked up at him innocently.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“You already make me feel good. This is about you.” He hoisted you back up on his lap, positioning so he could pick you up again. You let out a small yelp at the sudden movement, only for him to place you back down on the massage table. He leaned down to give you a kiss on your forehead before spreading your legs and kneeling in front of you. If you weren’t blushing before, your face was now beet-red. His hands lightly caressed the length of your leg, starting at your ankles and slowly making their way up your thighs. Your toes curled in your heels in anticipation.

You took a sharp inhale as he leaned in to leave a trail kisses up your inner thigh. You held your breath when he stopped at your panty-line, his hands playing with the sides of your thong. He looked up at you intently.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Eyes wide, you aggressively nodded and he chuckled at your eagerness. He drew little patterns over and around you, but purposefully just shy of your clit. You bit your bottom lip in frustration, the teasing becoming unbearable. He lightly dragged a finger over the center of your underwear, feeling your wetness through the fabric. As cool, calm, and collected as he looked to you, he too was quite literally bursting at the seams. His hardened cock strained against his pants seeking release. He wished he could fuck you right then and there, but understood the obvious risks you so pointedly observed.

Your legs trembled as he slowly pulled the fabric down. You wanted to scream feeling his hot breath over your entrance. You slapped a hand over your mouth when he closed the gap. He drew little circles around your bundle of nerves with his tongue before he switched to flicking. Your free hand found its way to his curls again, grasping for anything to keep you grounded as you felt like you would float away. Looking up from between your thighs, he saw the rise and fall of your chest and your bra peeking through your shirt. He unwrapped an arm to bring a finger to your folds, pausing to gauge your reaction.

You subconsciously bucked your hips, desperate for more contact. Accepting the sign, he inserted a finger, then two as he continued to lap at your clit. You arched your back in response to the dual sensations, doing your best to focus on your breathing. You wanted to shout his name to the world, to let everyone know that he was yours and you were his. Every obscenity known to man was on the tip of your tongue, but you held it in. His hands and mouth fell into a comfortable rhythm as your hand found a place in his hair again, running fingers through soft ringlets. Your core tensed, pressure pooling in your lower abdomen. He sensed you were close as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs around his head, encouraging him to keep going. He wished he could stay there forever. He looked up again a few moments later to see your eyes squeezed shut and your whole body convulsing around him as you reached your climax. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight.

You melted into the table as you came down from your high. You gave him a small pat on the head to indicate that you had finished, though your limp body was evidence enough to him. He smiled as he pulled away, giving a small kiss on your inner thigh before sucking his fingers that had been inside you moments ago. You lazily glanced at him slack-jawed. You still weren’t sure whether this was all just a fever dream. He began to wipe his mouth but you grabbed his shirt to stop him.

“No,” you mumbled. You haphazardly pulled on the shirt in your hands to encourage him to meet your lips and he happily obliged. “I want to taste myself,” you said under your breath just as the gap closed.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he had done to deserve such praise but was thankful nonetheless. You felt another wave of pleasure pulse through you as you tasted your own salty essence on your tongue. You began palming him over his pants, moving to unbuckle his belt when he stopped you. Sometimes he even surprised himself with the amount of self-control he had. But he knew it was only because if things progressed, the little he had left would dissolve into oblivion. He would happily go to jail for you, but he was not worried about getting caught himself. The repercussions for you would be detrimental in more ways than one and he wasn’t sure his celebrity would be enough to shelter you from reprimand.

“Nooooo,” you whined as he peeled your hand from his crotch. He gave it a kiss before returning it to your side.

“Not here. Later, I promise.” His cock was pulsating, he tried to think of the Bills, Zak Brown, or literally anything else to take his mind away from the vision in front of him. You moved your hand down to play with yourself, but he grabbed it again. Your lower lip jutted, and you spread your legs wider for him. He was pretty sure he would give you almost anything you asked for with the eyes you gave him. Almost.

“Why?”

“Because we’ll get caught.”

“If I go to jail, I go to jail.” He laughed.

“That’s not what you said earlier. Plus -” he gave you a peck on the cheek. “I can’t fuck you if you’re in jail.” He had a point. You closed your legs, finally conceding.

“Fine. But I’m not happy about it.” Taking your hand again, he helped you to your feet. He knelt before you to pull your panties up, unnecessarily taking his time. He didn’t miss the opportunity to kiss your hips and gave your butt a light tap to close out the encounter. He straightened your skirt, taking care to smooth out as many wrinkles as he could. You bit your bottom lip, your heart felt so full with how delicately he handled you but you also ached for him to rip off the clothes he just took great care putting on.

“You’re being awfully needy.” He continued to dress you as you complained, buttoning your shirt back up.

“What can I say? I’m a strong, independent, needy woman.” He bit back his laugh. He didn’t need you to know this hurt him as much as it pained you.

You pulled him in for a kiss again, though it only lasted a second before he practically pushed you away. You frowned and were about to ask his what was wrong, but looked down and quickly realized his conundrum. You were reminded of one of the few benefits of being a woman: the ability to hide arousal in public.

“Oh – oh shit. I can help…?” You gently touched his chest and began kneeling but he placed your hand back at your side and encouraged you to stand upright.

“Nope. No. I just have to… think of something else for a bit.” You looked at him intently but he was very focused on the ceiling. You didn’t want to make him feel bad, so you pursed your lips together to hold back your laughter.

“Ok. Well, um, I’ll see you later then.” He shut his eyes hard when you went to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry,” you said again, realizing you were not helping the situation. “I’m just - going to go.” You turned around and bent over to pick up your work bag, which incidentally prominently displayed the curves of your rear.

“Oh my God, please just get out.” You immediately stood up straight to find him covering his eyes with his hands.

“I know, I’m sorry!” You walked backwards to the door to avoid any further accidental temptation. “This was fun, I’ll see you later,” you said with a giant smile.

Not removing one of the hands from his face, he waved with the other one. “Just be careful on your way out. But please, for the sake of both of us, you need to leave,” he said with a smile.

“I know, I know, I’m leaving. Byeeee,” you whispered as you shut the door.

You quickly checked your surroundings and made a b-line for the bathroom where you finally had a moment to process what just happened. You looked at your reflection. Your heartbeat had finally returned to normal, but your cheeks were still a little flushed from the encounter. Otherwise, you pulled your slightly tangled hair back in a bun – no one would be none the wiser.

You didn’t look much different, but your sense of reality had been permanently altered.

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1-800-sin · 1 year

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Seeing Vincent without his mask for the first time.

I just read a vincent oneshot and idk how to feel. I’m gonna try and accurately represent his character, convey how he would actually feel and not project too much but yea, enjoy! :)

Warnings: it’s mostly fluff, some spicy details,

This is not how he wanted this to go. He didn’t even know if he wanted this to happen in the first place. You had questioned him about his face a few times, questioned Bo and Lester about it too. But not once had you pressured him into feeling uncomfortable or sharing what he wasn’t sure off. Vincent is a very emotional person, but he was never given the opportunities to express those emotions in a healthy way. Hence his art.

He loves you, thats for sure. Bo remembers going downstairs into Vincent’s work space and seeing sketches of you splayed out all over Vincent’s desk. Your face, your body. Bo assumed that Vincent depicted what he imagined your body would look like but then again…you never know. He teased him relentlessly for it for weeks, but never brought it up to you. He was an asshole sometimes, but he still loved his twin.

But still, he could be an asshole. It was his fault Vincent was in this uncomfortable situation in the first place. It was always his fault. Bo had a thing for picking on his brothers, older or younger it didn’t matter much. His jokes were often cruel and degrading. Especially toward Vincent. He’d make comments on his appearance, call him names like freak, or monster. Usually though it was when a tourist got away, got in the way or otherwise. Lester and Vincent understood that. You understood that. This time though Bo had truly gone too far. Someone had escaped. They were fast, but Bo was faster. Gave him quite the fight though, Bo came home with a black eye and a bloody lip. Immediately going to the freezer for an ice pack. The man had escaped form Vincent’s watch, making sense on why Bo was so annoyed with him. Lester was the one that alerted you to the situation going on downstairs. You both, plus Jonesy came running down the stairs to the kitchen. Seeing Vincent talking to Bo in sign.

Where’s the tourist? I needed them for a piece

Vincent signed. He was clearly upset. But not as much as Bo. The next few moments were a flash. Bo started talking back, aggressive and loud. Standing from his spot at the table and getting into Vincent’s space. Calling him all those names that you hated. Freak dumbass reject. He backed Vincent into a corner, continuing to get into his face. Vincent didn’t fight Bo. Never in their entire lives did he fight him back. He was his brother, and he valued that dearly. Bo made a comment about “Why do you even where this stupid thing? Not like me, Lester or the bitch your in love with don’t know what a freak you are.” Then Bo made a huge mistake.

He flipped Vincent’s mask up and off his face. It was like slow motion in your head as it crashed to the ground. The porcelain breaking into hundreds of pieces against the tile floor. Jonesy started barking immediately. Not at the broken shards, not at the loud crash. At Vincent’s demeanour. His stance, and posture changed. He was being calm, dealing with Bo’s angry behaviour. Now he was angry. Furious. There would be smoke coming out of his ears if it was possible. Speaking of which, the tips of his ears were bright red. Not in anger but in embarrassment. Not only had Bo broken his mask. His only form of comfort and protection from the ridicule of others. He had exposed him completely. Shouting out Vincent’s feelings for you for whomever to listen(though it was only you and Lester Vincent didn’t care).

In a flash of movement Bo crashed into the wall, Vincent holding him up by the space where his shoulders and neck connected. He was grunting angrily. Slamming Bo into the drywall over and over. You knew Vincent was strong. But this was inhuman. You had to get him back down to earth. “Lester, can you drag Bo’s sorry ass outside when I need ya too?” You turned your head too see Lester nod. Understanding what your plan of action was. You approached Vincent slow. Raising your hand to his shoulder even slower. Not wanting to get an unwanted reaction out of him. When your hand came in contact with his shoulder he snapped toward you, grabbing your wrist harshly and slamming you back against the fridge on the opposite side than Bo.

Lester was quick to drop to his knees beside his brother, helping him stand. He gave you a look that said ‘you gonna be good?’ And you nodded, still in some pain from Vincent’s harsh movement. Lester just nodded back, and helped Bo out of the room. Finally, you looked back at Vincent. His hair hung In front of his face but you could evidently see one blue eye. Beautiful eye. That you had only gotten the privilege of seeing through his mask. When Vincent met your eyes he realized that it was you he was holding so tightly. Not the kind of tightly he imagined holding you. But he was hurting you.

That wasn’t what he wanted. Never in his life would he want to hurt you. Bo on the other hand- but now that wasn’t the issue. Stiffly he let go of your wrist and backed away in an effort to put space between you two. He was struggling to cool down. Struggling to make his mind a safe place again, especially since his face was exposed. He ran his hands though his hair aggressively. Scrunching them into fists and pulling as hard as he could as a way to try and ground himself.

You were quick to intercept him. “Vincent Honey….I know your uncomfortable right now. I know your panicking. But I need you here with me. I need you to look me in my eyes okay? It doesn’t matter that the masks not there. It’s the same as before. And you can always make a new one” your hands slide up his arms, forearms and wrists to his hands. That you slowly pulled down from his head. You pulled his hands up to your own face and let them rest on your cheeks. He stared at you for a moment. Before his hands started to wander. Tracing ever detail on your skin.

Your skin was warm. At least in comparison to his hands. He liked the feeling. Some parts soft, others rougher. “May I?” You knew it was a stretch, a long one. But you wanted to show Vincent that you felt the exact same way he did. He worshiped your skin with his hands, and his art. It was foolish to believe you hadn’t seen the numerous pieces that looked oddly similar to you when going down to his workspace. You were flattered, and had your suspicions yourself. But Bo announcing that Vincent loved you was a very clear confirmation.

You held your hands out in front of him. He longed for that warmth. For that feeling of comfort that he hadn’t felt in his lifetime. For the feeling that he had heard one to many tourists talk about. Like a comfort he had never known. He stared at your hands. Tiny compare to his own. He had imagined how this would play out. You seeing his face that is. He had never, in any of those scenarios imagined that you would want to touch his face. His scars.

Taking in every detail of your hands, he could only imagine the warmth they would bring. He found himself slowly nodding and leaning closer to your hands. Not fully touching though, he still wanted you to be okay with backing out of it was too weird for you. But you never did. Your hands came up to hold his face and he immediately looked into your eyes. Eyes that were already staring directly at him. “Your beautiful Vince, I love everything about you. How focussed you get on a project, the care you have for other people in your life, and now I get to love your face.” You stepped closer to him. Resting your forehead against his. There were tears streaming down his face soon after. Tears of joy and relief. You loved him. Someone who he viewed as perfect, and beautiful, loved him. He couldn’t say he understood it but it didn’t mean he was exhilarated. Anytime you two hung out alone after that his new mask was off, and his hair always found it’s way behind his ears. As he worked on his art and you did whatever you wanted to do to pass the time. He loved it. Most importantly he loved you.

Hope you enjoyed! It’s 3AM and I’m ready to pass tf out. Anyone wanna request my inbox is always open.

#vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #slashers #slashers x reader #sinclair twins #sinclair brothers #house of wax #maskoff #fypシ

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mamayan · 8 months

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Hey babes!! Last night late night thoughts got to me real hard, so I was think Yandere! Vampire! getou. Reader is like a princess, her grandma made a deal with him years ago about the 1st female child beared from readers mother will be given to him. And after a while of having reader, which he uses as a blood bank sort of, he takes small drinks from reader every so often, he falls in love with her. Thank you for your time!! 💗💗

Okay but like, you’re making me remember my teenage years of being vampire obsessed! 💖

TW: Oral (M!) • Humiliation/Degradation • Yandere Themes • Kidnapping • Vampire Themes

Geto’s face isn’t the least bit amused.

Not your adorable pout or wet eyes are enough to fix his ruined mood. He’s in fact quite furious with your act of rebellion against him. No matter how Royal you think you are, how pampered and cherished you once were, you were nothing more than a pathetic excuse for a blood bank. Albeit his but nonetheless, you didn’t seem to know your place.

“What’s wrong little Princess?” The smile crawling onto his lips is mocking. His sharp gaze piercing into you, and it’s not shocking to see you tremble just a bit under his gaze.

“You were the one who asked, don’t act like such a useless crybaby. I haven’t even done anything yet.” His is irritation palpable, tone venomous as he looms over you. It didn’t matter that your tears were falling, body language conveying fear despite how you struggle to maintain a shred of dignity.

It’s his least favorite. How you still seem to think you’re still a beloved Princess, and not his pass time for him to use and toy with.

“You want to visit the vile hag who sold you to me for a more secure position on the throne? The reason you’ve fallen from grace to hell?” His words are full of ridicule, not just for your position but your bleeding heart for others.

Your insistence on finding the good in everything, the ability to love even a pile of shit.

Your insistence on being kind even to him, the monster who only wants to ruin you. Geto hates it.

Hates how much your tears have his pants too tight. How the fear and crystalline water drops down your face make his fangs ache to sink into your soft skin. To taste your irresistible blood and sink his cock inside you. Fuck you until you don’t remember you were ever anything except his personal harlot for him and his pleasure alone. There’s nothing better for Geto than reminding you of your new station in life.

Beneath his feet.

“Fine little Princess, I’ll so mercifully allow it—if you get on your knees and convince me. Show me how desperate you are to see dear your grandmother with that mouth, and I’ll consider it.”

Cruel. That’s all you can think as he leans over you, a curtain of silky black hair covering you two off from the world. Almost like lovers whispering, but the flash of his pointed fangs and dark eyes reminiscent of a vortex swirling with madness, it’s not difficult to tell yourself he’s evil incarnate. A beast within the skin of a beautiful man. Not human.

You do it every time. Hesitate and battle your will to maintain your dignity versus your love for your family. This isn’t your first request to visit home, last time he’d only allowed you to peak at your parents and siblings, their laughter and happiness without you revolting and comforting all at once.

You’d been forced to watch for a while too, his hand not giving you reprieve. You were made to witness how they’d completely moved on, so quickly without you. Geto drinking in the pale and sick expressions you made with delight before feasting on you.

“Don’t tell me you don’t really want to go? I’d have thought you more compassionate little Princess, doesn’t your heart break thinking of her dying without you by her side?” His teasing words had you finally bowing, as you always did before him. Sinking to your knees with a vacant stare as you prepare yourself for the humiliation to follow.

“That’s a good girl. Not so hard is it?” His praise is empty, you know better than to be tricked by his wicked words and intentions. “You need to show a little more enthusiasm dear, or I won’t be convinced of your desperation.” His hand sinks into your hair, gripping tight and painfully, yanking your head to smash your face against his crotch. His hard erection grinding through his clothes against your cheek, rubbing the fabric painfully into your soft and delicate skin.

You know what he wants, already convincing yourself it’s for your beloved grandmother and you’d do anything to see her.

It was Geto himself after all that teased you with her impending passing. His hatred of humans no secret and sadistic joy in your suffering no secret.

You moved, your knees already aching on the cold marble flooring of his home as your shaky hands fumble and undo the buttons of his trousers.

His hot leaking cock freed by your hand.

“Hmm…” you flinch at his grip in your hair nearly tears the strands out, freezing and gasping painfully. He stares down at you as if contemplating.

“Humans are so similar to dogs don’t you think?” You aren’t given any time to decipher what that means, soon being dragged across the floor by your hair over to Geto’s favorite pillow to sit upon. Almost like a throne where his servants and slaves would worship.

Your cry of pain and pleas ignored as usual.

He releases your hair finally, taking up a spot on his pillow with his legs spread wide and cock standing high against his lower abdomen like a proud display. Leaning back on both hands, his lazy posture appears debauched.

“Don’t you think the most desperate display is just like how a dog begs?” Your eyes widen, staring up at this vicious monster as horror dawns on you.

Of course it wouldn’t so easy. His need to humiliate and degrade you too strong for him to pass up an opportunity to make you beg.

“G-Geto please—“

“Ah ah… that’s not how dogs beg, now is it?”

“…w-woof…” Geto loved it, the tears streaming down your cheeks, the appearance of pure submissiveness. He could smell your sweet scent thickening, because try as you might, he knows this arouses you as much as it does him. Your pride not allowing you to truly embrace being his slut quite yet.

“Really, do you even want to see her? I suppose not—“ You panic as he tries to put his cock away, dropping onto all fours and crawling towards him, barking like a dog and even panting. Your pink little tongue sticking out and drooling.

Geto’s enraptured by the absolutely pathetic display of yours. The way you leave your hands on the floor, and use your face and mouth to take his cock between your lips.

He’s kind too, leaning back again and not denying you a chance at redemption. He’s a generous master after all.

“That’s a good girl, so you do know how to act?” One hand comes to lightly rest on the back of your head, while you lick and lap at his shaft, shivering in shame as you taste his precum leaking from the soft tip. It doesn’t matter that you’re crying, Geto wouldn’t have it any other way.

The way you slobber and begin to try and work his thick long cock into your mouth is adorable. Your ass sticking up in the air like a bitch in heat while choking on his length a sight for sore eyes.

“Fuck—you really were made to be a cocksleeve weren’t you?” He grunts in pleasure, sinking too deep into your throat and gagging you painfully.

As you try to pull back in panic, lungs and throat on fire, his hand locks and keeps you in place. His hips rutting up as he laughs.

“Haha! What’s wrong Princess? I’m just helping you out. Desperate little mutt like you can’t handle your master’s cock? I need to rectify that don’t I?” His grip is iron, and you shake and gag as he uses your throat like a true toy for his pleasure. The silent screams and whimpers trying to escape your mouth only vibrate your throat and arouse him further, his thrusts becoming mildly violent. The way your tongue moves around wildly trying to make room for him and your throat tightening as you try to swallow what spit isn’t dripping down your chin and his cock, all of it have his balls pulling up painfully. “Don’t fucking bite, I’ll make you really sorry if you do.” He moans, chuckling through his groans and grunts of pleasure as you become nothing more than the mutt he calls you as he fucks your face. “Cute little Princess, you found your true calling haven’t you? I’m going to cum, take it all slut.”

“…!” Your vision is going dark as you finally go limp, fully submitting beautiful for him as his hot load shoots down your throat and straight into your belly. He holds you there, no possible way for oxygen to get you as he lets every drop go down before he releases you.

You drop limp like a doll as only a wheezing noise escapes you, air finally filling your lungs and extinguishing the fire inside them. Your wet snot covered face blank and finally to Geto’s liking. You’re stupid expression enough to have his cock hardening again.

“Aw~♡,” he coos, beginning to disrobe fully now, grabbing your pliant body and dragging you into his lap and arms. He’s mockingly rubbing his face against yours, looking like one might with their pet after they do something cute.

“You don’t think that was enough to convince me do you?” His words bring you back to life, eyes wearily meeting his.

His smile appears softer, but his eyes never lie.

He’s shifting you, so he can nip and lick your neck where he intends to drink.

“Always so sweet…” he murmurs, sinking his fangs in and moaning as the taste of you explodes in his mouth. You’re unable to resist the rush of pleasure which follows him drinking from you, whining in his hold. “Be good pet, save that energy, I’m going to taste your cunt next.” His vulgar speech leaves you shaking as he savors you, licking and sucking on your skin even after he’s fed.

He pulls back to look down at you, messy and ruined looking in his hold. “I’ll give you another chance little Princess, to show me how desperate you are~♡”

He’s not going to let you go see the vile woman which sold you to him. The disgusting humans which you so love and call family all to happy to dance on your corpse for a leg up in life.

No, you just need to be obedient and sweet to him alone. No need for thoughts revolving around anything but him, he’ll ensure it with time and proper training.

Once he makes you his familiar, you’ll stop aging and the memories of your life as a human will fade.

You just need to stay his good little Princess.

#yandere geto suguru #18+#geto suguru #getou suguru x y/n #x reader #yandere Geto suguru x reader #yandere #vampire geto suguru #jjk #jujutsu geto #jujutsu kaisen #mdni #drabble #request filled #geto suguru x female reader #x female reader

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overthinkinglotr · 2 years

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Everything in the Amazon lotr series makes perfect sense when you learn that the show runners have literally no experience working on tv shows. None. 😂 J.D. Payne and Patrick McKay have barely any experience in the entertainment industry. And like if you check their IMDb, their only credits are a Flash Gordon screenplay for a movie that wasn’t made and “uncredited” writing on the 2016 Star Trek movie (meaning they weren’t an official part of the production but talked to J J Abrams every now and then.)

The only way I can praise the Amazon show is the way you’d praise something written by a kid…”like wow this is your first try? Your first time ever working in tv and writing a fantasy story? This is good for a first try! Nice work! Your mom should hang it on the fridge!” The real question though is like, why didn’t they give biggest budget of any tv series ever made to people who had literally ANY experience showrunning ahsjndndnd.

To be honest I’m baffled at people who say this show is “desecrating tolkien” because like…first off, desecrating tolkien can be super cool. He sucked sometimes. Second, “desecrating tolkien” implies they were creating a story that had something specific to say about Tolkien, and they knew how to use their medium to convey what they wanted to say. But like…they didn’t. The Amazon series can’t desecrate tolkien, it’s relying on tolkien as a crutch to tell an amateur story that would be literally totally incoherent without you filling in the blanks with prior knowledge gained from the books and from other better adaptations.

I’m baffled at people trying to act like Amazon is being progressive with this series when its sorta like…the peak of conservative Hollywood nepotism? Two upper middle-class white dudes with literally no idea how to run a tv show because they have never been part of the process, ever, were gift wrapped the highest budget for any tv show ever made— not because they deserved to make the most expensive tv series ever made, but because they were upper middle class white dudes who happened to know famous people in Hollywood. People work in television their whole lives for the chance to be a showrunner and these two mediocre white dudes who have barely done any professional writing were handed the most expensive tv series of all time.

And it shows! It explains why the show doesn’t feel as expensive as it is. The process was “run” by people who literally have never needed to understand how creating a tv show works.

Everything feels so clumsy, unfocused, and generic because it’s being showrun by people who do not have enough experience to know what they’re doing.

It feels like someone’s first published work because it is. there’s some vague generic theme about being corrupted by darkness but it’s portrayed with all the grace and subtlety of showrunners who have no experience telling stories professionally, don’t understand how to do it, and so are just turning to the audience and flatly saying what the themes are supposed to be in bland boring language. (They couldn’t even find relevant quotes from the books to use instead— at least then it would sound pretty. Tolkein’s language is almost entirely absent from the show. :P)

There’s a lack of specificity— the tone veers wildly from “epic and idealized like the Pj films” to “relentlessly gory and cruel like GOT,” and almost no quotes from the books appear in the show despite language being so important to the feel of middle earth— because the showrunners are too busy struggling to learn the basics of showrunning for the first time to figure out things like “how to set a consistent tone.”

Characters turn to the camera and spoon-feed the audience information like we’re stupid and constantly reiterate exposition from previous episodes because the show runners have never worked on tv shows before, and don’t have enough confidence to trust the audience to understand anything.

The pacing is so bizarre and wonky, and the introductions of important characters/McGuffins is so clumsy, because the showrunners have never done this before ever on any tv show.

The show doesn’t look like the most expensive tv show of all time (even though it is) because the show runners don’t understand how to budget visual effects effectively. Tons of expensive labor is wasted on dream sequences and meaningless one-off plot beats that don’t add anything to the story when they could’ve been spent on the actual important emotional story moments.

And of course the way the show handles gender and race is so hollow because it’s driven by two white male nepotism hires tackling these topics for the Very First Time. They decide to handle sexism in middle earth by making it a world where patriarchy just doesn’t seem to exist(?), but they’re also not willing to actually genuinely imagine what that would look like. so we get a world where “there’s no patriarchy” but most the warriors/leaders are still men, all the women still dress in feminine clothing/hairstyles and all the men have masculine clothing/hairstyles, no women are butch and no men are effeminate, a woman fighting/showing up in battle armor is framed as a big cool reveal, and every single relationship is suffocatingly heterosexual (and there isn’t even the possibility of queer relationships/homoerotic subtext.) They had three POC play some of the side characters but were careless in how they handled them, in a way that’s a disservice to the talented actors— for example the character they marketed as “the first black elf in tolkien” is immediately thrown into a plotline where people are racist to him for being an elf and then he’s captured into slavery and spends a few episodes in chains driven around by white orcs with whips in a way that makes you realize the creators were too white to think about the optics of this. They also don’t tackle the root issues with the way tolkein portrayed race (the idea that different races are different Species with immutable personality traits) and just take his racist assumptions for granted. Meanwhile, every scene where people are “fantasy racist” against white blonde Galadriel for being an elf is handled with all the grace of a white teenager who just realized racism was maybe Bad writing their first fiction story saying Deep Things About Society for a high school assignment. Can you imagine how much more thoughtful writing we would’ve gotten from literally ANY of the far more talented experienced female and poc directors in Hollywood, people who understood how to tackle gender/race in their writing and who understood how to actually run a show? But no, the show has to be handed to two white dudes who have literally no experience writing for tv and no relevant credits, just because they’re white men who are well connected, and we have to trust tHese people to condescendingly explain the importance of diversity to us like we’re children. And then we have to pretend to like it because theres a massive right wing backlash against the show for being “so woke” (when it isn’t). ANSJSJJDJDJD

I just kinda…don’t understand? Why give so much money to people who have no experience and don’t know what they’re doing? People whose only qualifications are being random white dudes who know famous people?

It feels like such a waste of money and resources to throw so much into what’s essentially a training exercise for people who’ve never run a show before. The Amazon series is longer than the first two PJ films but it doesn’t feel that way because the showrunners don’t understand how to use a medium they have never worked in.

Like Peter Jackson had never directed anything on the scale of LOTR, but he had directed plenty of movies (with the writers who later partnered with him on lotr) before he was allowed to make it, AND had spent years pitching his scripts around Hollywood and helping develop the technology used for the visual effects. Heck, Ralph Bakshi had made animated movies before, and Rankin/Bass had worked on tv specials. As much as all those adaptations are flawed like?????????? I genuinely don’t understand why you wouldn’t hire more qualified people for the most expensive tv show of all time. or even just. Anyone who had literally any qualifications at all.

But I guess I’m thinking about this all wrong because…their lack of experience is likely why they were hired. Because of the complicated legal and rights issues happening behind the scenes, Amazon likely didn’t want to hire anyone who would have a coherent vision and a clear idea of how to execute that vision. The show needed to bow to the mandates of Amazon but ALSO the copyright issues (they don’t have the rights to actually adapt most of the stuff dealing with the history they’re adapting), the mandates of the Tolkien estate (who were allowed to make whatever petty changes they wanted to the story at any time) and the mandates of New Line Cinema (who were allowing Amazon to ape the style of their movies to get l publicity for their brand but are also completely willing to enforce copyright and demand change if they felt Amazon was stepping on their toes, and etc etc). Amazon needed inexperienced people who would go along with whatever they were told to do. Someone who had a clear vision and knew how to execute it would fight against the dumb corporate mandates. Someone who has literally never worked in tv before would assume Amazon knew best and do whatever they were told.

I don’t know, I feel the same way I do about the hobbit films where it’s just—it’s such a waste? It’s such a waste. It’s such a waste of time and a waste of labor, on a project that (because of weird corporate nonsense) has no clear artistic vision and only exists to be part of a lucrative Brand(tm.)

I won’t be watching the next season— I assume the the future seasons will be “better” because the show runners have now had their very first season of experience working in television ever (good for them and congrats on breaking into the industry for the first time etc etc), but that doesn’t change what a massive corporate waste the first eight hours were— again, that’s longer than the first two PJ films but it doesn’t feel like It because it’s so directionless and devoid of a clear artistic vision. Idk as long as the only Lord of the Rings adaptations we’re legally allowed to get are massive Mega corporate ones funded off the suffering of all the underpaid Amazon workers who die in the warehouses, you would think the adaptations would at least be good XD. Again, can you imagine what more experienced and talented directors with a long history of working in TV, and who were free to execute their artistic vision, could’ve done with such a giant budget? Can you imagine if corporations didn’t waste an entire season of television as the world’s most expensive training wheels for people who’d never seriously worked in tv before? Can you imagine how much good art we could get if Hollywood was actually a meritocracy? Idk dudes, idk.

#i said i wasn’t gonna talk about the Amazon show again but ajdjkdkf #ok now I’m done #lotr #anti rop #ahsjdjdkd #but I learned how inexperienced the show runners were and am Baffled #i have friends in the entertainment industry and???????#they actually have to Work to become showrunners or directors???#theyre told they need Experience?????#XD GUESS NOT #i feel like I must be missing something because it’s so confusing #but yeah rings of Power #rings of power definitely exists doesn’t it

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devildom-moss · 6 months

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Roses for You (10)

This had all started when you noticed a link between a book on the language of flowers you had borrowed from Satan’s room and the current lessons from your Seductive Speechcraft and Magical Potions classes.

In Seductive Speechcraft, you had just reached a section on the effectiveness of spells using non-verbal communication: enchanting glances, dance, and offerings. Meanwhile, in Magical Potions, the professor had been discussing the significance of using specific quantities when concocting potions; they had spent fifteen minutes just providing examples – including adding petals from two different flowers when using them for a love spell.

You couldn’t resist discussing the use of flower language – utilizing the type, color, and quantity of the flowers – to specify the magical intent of an offering as a form of seductive speechcraft. Asmo and Solomon listened intently. The same idea popped into both of their minds, and before you knew it, everyone was looking into color and number meanings, searching for the perfect combination to convey their feelings for you and try to put you under their spell. The only rule for their little competition to charm you? Only roses are allowed.

Will you be charmed by their attempts?

Ten Roses - Luke

Word Count: +1,400

You are perfect

This week had culminated to today – one of those days when a cruel creature crawled onto your shoulder and screamed insults into your skull every few minutes. Its words drown everything else out. You are so useless. I hate you. I hate this. I’m such a loser. In spite of that, you still managed to pull your heavy limbs out of bed and drag them through about 60% of your morning routine – a win. It was just two classes today. You could do it.

You were noticeably slower as you walked to class, and you felt your spine compress and the full weight of your body with every step. Guilt set in – both ashamed and anxious about potentially being recognized at the bottom of this well. What were you expected to say if they asked about it? What if they were mad or annoyed because you were feeling bad again? How honest could you be without making them worry about you? What if you started crying the second they showed they cared? That would be embarrassing.

A small voice broke through your intense focus on the worst possible outcomes. You tuned your ears to it halfway through. “. . . busy after school?”

“Huh?” You blinked out of your self-induced trance. “Sorry, what was that, Luke?”

“Are you busy after school, MC?” You shook your head slowly. Luke grinned. “Great. Will you go on a picnic with me this afternoon?”

“Well, I –” you stopped yourself. The part of you that was exhausted and wasn’t sure if you could put in the extra strength to get through a picnic crumbled at the sight of Luke’s angelic smile. Maybe this was something you had to do – one of those things that are supposed to help you feel better. Your shoulders slumped with a sigh, and you forced a smile. “Yeah. Okay, Luke.”

“Yay.” Luke clasped his hands together with a grin. “I’ll meet you after your last class. We can have it at the park on the way back home, so we won’t have to go too out of the way. I’ll have everything ready.”

“Wait. Can I do anything to help? It’s last minute, but I have time between classes – maybe I could –”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got everything handled. Actually, well,” Luke hummed, wondering if he should share the truth. With a slight blush on his cheeks, he admitted, “I planned ahead, hoping you would say yes. I already made the food and got drinks. All you have to do is be there, really!”

You could hear the determination in Luke’s voice. It warmed your heart that he cared so much to do this, but it was a painful, burning warmth – the prickle you feel when warming your freezing fingers. His kindness felt wasted, but Luke wanted to offer it to you, and you didn’t know how to politely reject it. You nodded and Luke gave you another smile. It almost looked like part of him saw right through your façade, but you hoped his naivety would spare him from knowing how tumultuous your thoughts were recently.

“I’ll see you later, MC. Do your best in your classes. I prepared your favorites – with some help from Simeon and Barbatos, so please look forward to it.”

You tried to look forward to it, and you did your best in your classes – even though the best you could manage was sitting there and getting about half a page of notes down (hopefully about the most important parts of the lecture). You sort of lucked out that you had lectures today. Sitting there was already harder than you wanted it to be.

Luke was waiting right there in the hallway when you clawed your effort from the grasp of Diavolo’s education system. It was almost comical to see such a small angel carrying a rather large picnic basket. It looked like an overkill for a two-person picnic.

“Are the others joining us?” You asked with an ounce of dread. You had only mentally planned to spend time with Luke. Maybe you could handle Simeon and Barbatos – but even Solomon might be pushing it. If Lucifer could go without teasing Luke, you might have been okay with him, but Lucifer didn’t seem like he would be caught on a picnic with you and Luke on a weekday afternoon in the park.

“Nope, just us today. Why?”

“That basket is huge.” You didn’t really want to, but you felt you had to offer, “Should I carry that for you?”

“I had to use this picnic basket. Oh! But it’s not heavy. I can totally carry it on my own, so don’t you worry about it.”

Now that you were sitting in a quiet part of the park where the breeze was light and crisp, you felt like you could breathe a bit deeper. The Devildom was pretty when you thought about it – and you probably wouldn't have thought about it if not for Luke. He pulled out your favorite bread – one that Barbatos must have helped him bake – and that one dessert that Simeon made for you a few months ago. You didn’t even remember telling Luke that it was probably the best thing you had ever eaten. He was still pulling out food when you felt the guilt rise up again. Why did he put in so much effort?

Instead of drowning in the guilt, you tried to hold onto something. “Thank you, Luke. I don’t know what to say. This is so nice.”

“Do you know why I brought the big picnic basket today? It’s because I had to hide a present for you,” Luke admitted proudly.

“Luke.” Even for an angel, someone raised him to be too sweet.

“Close your eyes.” You did as he asked, waiting for a signal that came soon after. Luke said in sing-song, “ta-da.”

When you opened your eyes, he was holding out a bouquet of ten bright-yellow roses. The roses blurred as tears welled up. In your current state, you couldn’t remember what ten meant, but yellow was the unmistakable color of joy and friendship. It hadn’t occurred to you in a while how grateful you were for Luke’s friendship. The tears followed through on their threat, freely falling down your cheeks in the middle of the park.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized weakly. Luke tensed with panic, but he noticed that the corners of your lips kept turning up as if you were trying to smile, so he handed you a tissue and decided to say his piece.

“It’s okay, MC. You can cry if you want to. You’ve been having a hard time recently, right? I noticed – even though I think you didn’t want me to. And then, Mammon told me he heard you whisper something mean to yourself when you were alone in the library. I’m sorry that you’re not doing well. You’re my friend, right? So, I want you to rely on me, and maybe I can’t always cheer you up, but I had to do something. I want you to eat good food and enjoy the world – even if that world is the Devildom. Even if you don’t believe me, I think you’re perfect just as you are, and I want you to be happy.” Luke spoke without any of his usual embarrassment about being honest and affectionate. For a brief moment, you recalled some of the times you had been there for Luke. Yes, Luke was being kind to you in his own angelic way, but he was also holding up a mirror, reflecting your kindness back at you – a give and take that was not always even, but it was cherished. You were too busy crying to think of the right thing to say, but that was okay. Luke set the roses down and got closer. “Would you like a hug?”

You were far from cried-out, but you felt okay enough to wipe your eyes and try to enjoy this picnic to the best of your ability – even if you had drawn the attention of a few demons who were passing by. You stretched your arms out and grabbed Luke, pulling him close to you, much in the same way Satan did with street cats he befriended when they were being especially cute. With a small smile on your lips, you said, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you but if they had angel adoption papers, I would sign them right away.”

Luke wasn’t sure if you were trying to treat him like a son or a pet, but he would let it slide this time. “Well, if they had human adoption papers for angels, I would sign them too. And then I would be your guardian.”

#luke #gn!mc #obey me series #obey me #obey me luke #Will I be able to get under 1k for Simeon who knows?

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kirimoochi · 7 months

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line without a hook.

˚ ᗢ kazuha x gn!reader, modern au.

⤷ based on ricky montgomery "line without a hook."

I don’t really give a damn about the way you touch me. When he leans over you, pressing light kisses against your cheek, you can’t keep yourself away from his radiant presence. Your lips curve into a smile as you reach out in front of you, holding onto his face as you stare into his eyes. He continues to pepper kisses against the palm of your hand. His expression is cheeky as you giggle. When we’re alone, you can hold my hand.

You want these moments to last a lifetime. And for a moment, when you’re caged in his arms, you think it might come true. He brushes away strands of your hair. His warmth lingers a little longer on your skin and you find yourself falling deeper, and deeper in love with the man in front of you. The same man who taught you that kindness existed in a cruel world. The same man who had blown apart your expectations of a relationship by giving you all he was.

He seemed perfect in your eyes. He cared about you in ways you could only dream of. He loved you in ways that you could only imagine when you closed your eyes. Everything about him seemed so dreamy. And you thought things could say like this. You wanted them to stay. It would have been so easy living life if you had someone like him by your side forever.

If I went and hurt my body, baby, would you love me the same? He doesn’t look at you the same. You made a mistake and even after attempting to reconcile, things don’t feel the same. No matter how hard you try, or how many words you attempt to use to convey your apologies, nothing is enough. What you feel doesn’t measure up to your crime, and it makes you wonder if it's possible to repent for your sins. It’s a curse, and it’s growing.

You close yourself in. Wrapping your arms around your body you press your forehead against your knees. You try not to cry. You try to wipe away the tears that threaten to break. God, how much you wished everything could have stayed the same. If only things hadn’t changed for the worse, everything would have been fine. You could have continued living in the dream you created for yourself.

He said, “People are being friendly with the person that hurt me.” And you don��t know how to respond. You don’t know how to feel when you’re standing amongst a crowd of people, peering your head to the side just to see a peek at him. Only to realize that the part you’re seeing is nothing more but a false reality. The man that you had loved was no longer there. Replaced only by a spiteful person hiding beneath the skin of a friendly face.

"I rather just leave."

You are not blind to the way he closes his fists. You are not a fool to notice the way he looks at you with a scowl on his face. You don’t understand. You don’t understand what happened. You’re a pond and I’m an ocean. Was this how he saw you? After all this time, he could only muster a few words as hurtful as this. You want to argue that this isn’t the real him. This isn’t the man you fell in love with.

When you talked to him a few weeks ago about the breakup, he seemed fine. You and he seemed fine. Everything seemed fine. Were you just lying to yourself? You squeeze the papers in your hand tightly, crumbling the thin material as you grit your teeth. You wanted to believe that deep down, there was more to it. That he didn’t mean those words. How can you be so sure though?

Oh, baby, I am a wreck when I'm without you. He was the first person to reach out to you, to dismiss those rumors about you from other people, and to give you a chance that you thought no one would give you. He was the first person to confess to you a love so pure and soft, it made you swallow up the bitter taste in your tongue. Everything about him seemed so different. Everything about him seemed so radiant like the sun peering through maple leaves.

I need you here to stay. Was that perfection just a lie? I broke all my bones that day I found you crying at the lake. When he told you that he wanted to give you all the love he could, to make you happy, was it all just to fix you? You bite the bottom of your lip as you hold back a choked sob. You tried so hard to defend him from all of your friends. To tell them that he was different. But was he? Was he different? Or were you making it all up in your head, pretending that he cared just to feel comforted?

Is it worth it? Is it worth it? Tell me, is it worth it?

Was it worth loving someone who hates you? Was it worth holding onto this hope, that they were still as good as the person you fell in love with?

Because I don't think it's worth it anymore.

#₊˚ ᗢ kirimoochi #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #kazuha #kazuha kaedehara x reader #kazuha kaedehara #kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #angst #angst with no comfort #vent post

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latenightsimping · 1 year

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You Send Me (drabble)

Heard that @mantorokk-writes needed a bit of a pick-me-up, remembered this was in my folder, so finished it for them. Song is You Send Me by Sam Cooke. Enjoy! <3

content: slow dancing, pure fluff, just being cute n shit

You couldn’t stop smiling, your cheeks hurting from exertion as your arms tightened where they were looped around Eddie’s neck. When you had asked if he had anything more romantic, you expected him to find something from the metal genre that had some semblance of love in the lyrics. You hadn’t expected him to rifle through the small box of records that you assumed were Wayne’s collection, making small noises of consideration until he found the right one. You couldn’t quite recognise the song from the initial few notes, but it was a slow temple, perfect to sway to. He had asked you to dance with a low bow and extension of his hand, like you were a princess being courted in one of his fantasy books. You had accepted with a giggle, enjoying the feeling of his large hands nestled at your waist as he gently swayed you.

Everything fell away, creating a small bubble of serenity and love. You were no longer in the slightly cluttered living room that you’d come to call home. With your eyes closed, head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat and the vibrations of his voice softly crooning along to the words, you were sure that this was heaven. You hoped heaven would be like this. Eddie pressing soft kisses to the top of your head, ringed hand smoothing up and down your spine. He had a knack for making you feel as loved as you ever had been before, and perhaps he didn’t realise that his small actions were acts of declaration. He thought he was just being kind, being a good boyfriend; giving you his jacket if you looked even slightly cold, making sure he had your favourite snacks stocked in the kitchen, remembering the tiniest detail of something you told him ages ago. He listened when you rambled on about subjects that meant a lot to you, and the day didn’t start or end without a kiss and his little ‘I love you’.

Thanks to the cruel students of Hawkins High, you didn’t want to go to prom. You’d spend it with the love of your life, getting high and watching horror movies. Your own little party, and ten times more fun than listening to music you knew he’d hate and having to put up with dirty looks. And now, you were having your own slow dance a few weeks later, ‘You Send Me’ by Sam Cooke being the perfect background song. One that you just know would be yet another song that’ll make it’s way onto the next ‘our song’ mix tape; God knows the last one he’d given you was at risk of crapping out with the amount you played it.

He must have seen a look cross your face, a small smile twitching at the upper corners of his lips as he paused through another verse to look down at you properly. “Doin’ okay, angel?”

You nodded, head still rested over his heart as you idly played with the hair on the nape of his neck. “Just enjoying this,” you mumbled. “Never want this to end.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling his chest underneath your ear as he stroked languid circles on the small of your back. “Doesn’t have to end, if you don’t want it to.” His hand captured your chin, tilting it up so you could see his lovesick grin. “I’m sure we can find some more sappy love songs in Wayne’s stash.”

You giggled, leaning up to capture his lips with your own. A slow, passionate kiss, hoping to convey just how much love you had for him with it. And by the way he was kissing you back, he both understood and wanted to reciprocate.

You’d dance to anything he wanted to, if it meant holding you like this. Kissing you like this. Loving you like this. The dance may end, and the music may grow quiet. But you new deep down, that the adoration you both shared would never go away. Not ever.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #late night drabbles

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theprettynosferatu · 2 years

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Ana loved first timers. It wasn’t a feeling shared by all her domme friends, who preferred more experienced fare; but for Ana, the new guys were special. Wasn’t it always that way? No one forgets their first time, Ana felt, so it might as well be a good experience– and few, if any, were better than Ana. It was a delicate dance between breaking the men into submissive worship and protecting them, exploring their fantasies and pushing just enough to make them long for more and more. That’s how she got return customers, after all.

This little piggy, Mike, had been a walk in the park. He had crawled in all fours for her. He had licked her heels for her, his erection painful, clouding his mind. He had begged and bowed and taken his paddling like the gift from a goddess it was. And he still hadn’t even touched her. No, that had to be earned, and so he was tied up on the rack. Ana was letting him simmer for a bit before she began the real torture, the sensual, cruel teasing. Yes, soon he would–

“Mistress… I… hum…”

“Did you just speak to me without permission, little puppy?”

“I… I guess I did and I am loving this and I don’t want to, you know, ruin things or use the safeword or anything like that, but, I, ah, well, I want to be your little slave and all but I… I really need to go”

“Oh? Need to go where, piggy? What could possibly be more important than pleasing your mistress?”

“Nothing! Nothing is more important! It’s just that I… have to go, you know? Like, hum, use the… facilities”

He had to be kidding her. Ana took pride in her knots and damnit it, those had taken time and concentration. Plus, getting him back into subspace when he came back would be a bitch. Sure, with a different sub she could just make him piss himself and mock him for it, but that wasn’t first timer stuff. Not much she could do, though. The man had to go. She moved closer to untie him.

“No, I… I like being here! I like being at your mercy! Don’t let me go!”

So… he wanted to be tortured by his own body, his need to…?

“I really do have to go, though”

What the fuck did this man want? Fine, she would meet him halfway. Ana went to the bathroom and got a bucket. That should do it. Not as strong as making him piss himself, but nice humiliation material. Still, a pain in the ass; but hooking them early was the way to make sure they stayed hooked.

Ana focused on conveying exactly how much of a worthless worm she saw Mike as. “You should be thankful I’m giving you a bucket at all”, she spat.

“I am, mistress! Thank you! This little cuck doesn’t deserve anything from a goddess like you! I’m just your toy!”

That was better. At least the dynamic was somehow intact. “Go on, piggy, piss in the buck–”

Once upon a time a partner had told Ana that penises and pee defied the laws of physics; that no matter how carefully one aimed, in the end it came down to the whims of the gods. She had taken it as the silly excuse for his perpetual missing the toilet: suddenly, she witnessed the truth of those words firsthand. By all logic, the pee should have gone right into the bucket. She was holding it perfectly, at just the right angle and distance.

Her first reaction was shock. It was warm, not unpleasantly so. She froze. She felt drops hit her full lips. The realization came as if from far away.

This man pissed on me.

It was the height of humiliation, something she herself only exposed her own subs to when they were ready and truly broken. It was a primal symbol of ownership, of dominance. It was a way to make the other person feel how inferior, how utterly docile they were in the most degrading way… and now this… this first timer had done it to her. Ana felt sick, in a strange freefall. She knew all the things being someone’s urinal meant and an unwanted and unexpected electricity coursed through her skin. She felt the liquid slide, caressing her lips with cruelty. And she felt an alarming warmth between her legs. No. This was not her. She was in control. She wasn’t a sub, never had been. She… she couldn’t be enjoying it, could she? Still… she had felt those drops and now her mouth opened as if acting on instinct. He saw it and gathered all his courage.

“I’m so sorry Mistress! I… I’m trying to hold the rest back but… well you… huh, some got on you and… It’s kinda already aiming that way so… maybe… you could, huh… open your mouth a bit more?”

Who the hell did this newbie think he was? Who did he think she was? Some kind of obedient, inferior fucking toy for him to use? His fucking urinal, of all things? Just an object for him to relieve himself? Ana’s outrage grew… as did the warmth between her legs. What was happening to her? Why was her mouth watering as it opened slowly, becoming just a hole for this first timer to use? The idea was infuriating, insulting… relaxing, so fucking hot...

Ana felt it. So warm. So wrong. So degrading. She swallowed and it was as if she was swallowing her own self, her own pride, her dignity, her dominating side. It was terrifying how… right it felt. How simple. How good. She could see herself going down this road, letting pieces of herself go until she was nothing but a toy for him to use…

No. No. She was strong. She was powerful. Her mind rebelled against itself. She wouldn’t fall. Not like this. Not to him. Not ever. Anger covered up her shameful pleasure.

Fine. So this was how it was going to be. Fucking fine. She leaped to the bound, scared man in a red fury. “Fuck you. Is that what you want?” she growled as he untied him. “You wanna be the big man? The strong man? You wanna treat me like your fucking rag? Fucking piece of shit, let’s do this!”

Mike was speechless.

“Come on, big guy! Wanna be the real man?”, she taunted, going to her knees. “Wanna make me yours? Then fucking prove you can, you little asshole!”

“H-how?” stammered Mike. This was not going how he expected, and he had no idea what to do. Run away?

“Fuck my face”

“What?”

“Fuck. My. Face. Want to be a top? Then let’s see you do it! Use my lips, my mouth, my throat as a fucking fleshlight! Come on!”

Mike looked down at his dick. It wasn’t so much “soft” as… “attempting to crawl inside his body and hide forever.” Ana, obviously, saw it as a personal insult. Oh, first he peed on her and then he couldn't even fuck her face? No, that would not do. She grabbed Mike and pulled him toward her mouth. She would get that cock hard if it was the last fucking thing she did.

Suddenly, her world shifted. It wasn’t that his cock was particularly marvelous or big or special… it was the realization that making him hard, giving him pleasure, made her feel… at peace. Happy. Horny. being on her knees simply was right. She felt as if a whole part of herself was revealed as nothing more than posturing, a mask she wore to keep herself from the truth. And the truth was… No, she couldn’t accept that. She was in control. She was making him hard just so he would obey her command. She was still firmly in control. But there was something beautiful, almost like an act of worship in the way she used her lips, her tongue, her throat for the single, pure purpose of pleasing a cock. His moans were like small drops of wonderful, shining approval.

No, no, no. She didn’t need his approval. His or anyone else’s. She was strong. She was…

She was being facefucked. It took her a moment to register what was happening- she had been so focused on pleasing… and now his hips were moving, and his cock entered deeper and deeper inside her mouth… and she existed only as a hole, as a vehicle for his pleasure. It was as if she was drifting away, entering a state of mindless bliss in which she didn’t need to plan, didn’t need to think, didn’t need to choose. She just was. For him. Her hand slid between her legs, and the slightest touch made her shiver, as if her own body was trying to tell her something about herself, something she had refused to even contemplate before. She didn’t need to be more. She didn’t want to be more.

It was hard to tell exactly what changed in her demeanor, her eyes, her movements… but she evidently sent some sort of signal, some indication of the role she needed to fulfill, deep down. Whatever it was, he noticed it. He grabbed the sides of her head and sped up, giving no more thought to her comfort than he would give to the comfort of a plastic sex doll. She could only moan and rub herself. Doll. That word made her so… happy. Eager to please.

When he exploded inside her mouth, Ana could only swallow. She had never done that, not for anyone, but at that moment it seemed like the only fitting thing to do.

Time stopped. The newbie was stunned, and so was Ana. This had certainly not been anything like what they had envisioned. He mumbled a few incoherent words, somehow got dressed without falling face first on the floor, and left. Ana, on the other hand, was still on her knees. As the moment slowly passed, she felt grateful she insisted on payment upfront. She got up and fought a dizzy spell. What the hell had happened? An abnormality, nothing more. She was strong. She broke men. Sure, she had… experienced something new. So what? It didn’t mean anything. If anything, she was pissed off. The first timer had seemed like a possible return customer, but that domming session had gone off the rails. Oh well. She had her other regulars. No point lingering on… whatever the hell had happened.

The night, however, was unkind. In her half-remembered dreams, Ana saw herself bound, weak, tired… taken. Over and over. She woke up angry at herself. Angry at how wet she got. Fuck. It would go away soon, she told herself. The thing with the first timer was in the past, and would not repeat itself.

Then he texted to book another session.

Ana took some time to consider it. He had seen her… in a strange state. But in the end, she was in control. She was strong. She would show him that. Show herself that. She would prove the dreams wrong.

When the day came, Ana got ready. Gloves off, she thought. She prepared her toys, the leather bindings, the leash and the blindfold. She pictured all the things she would make him do, how he would crawl and grovel, beg and whimper. He would kiss her feet and thank her for the honor. He would…

The bell rang. She looked through the door camera– a necessary precaution these days. It was him, as small and powerless as last time. Good. Ana buzzed the little lamb in. He walked into the room, and instantly his eyes focused on the floor, not wanting to look at the goddess without her say so. Perfect. He remembered his place. Ana let the moment linger, took in his submission.

“On your knee-” she started to say.

“Sorry. Sorry, Mistress. I, huh, wanted to… mention something, if I may. Because, well…”

Oh Christ. What now?

“Fine. Speak up, and make it brief”

“Last time… I, well, came for a certain experience… and I think we can both agree that… the, huh, full experience… now, it wasn’t fulfilled, was it? I came to encounter a strong, powerful domme and instead you ended up on your knees, getting your mouth used… that doesn’t seem to me like a very domme thing to do”

Ana felt her face get hotter. She hated him. She hated that he was right. She hated that he had dared to bring up that little momentary lapse. She hated that the memory of the moment was starting to make her pussy warm. And she noticed something strange, a glint in his eyes. He was looking at her now, And behind his stammering and posture, she could sense something else. Something… powerful. Overwhelming.

“I feel… I should get a little recompense, don’t you? You are a professional, but you failed to deliver. It would only be good sense and common courtesy to offer such a good client a small token of apology for your… shortcoming”

He took a step towards her. In a flash the sheepish man was gone, and someone else appeared to have taken his place. Someone firm. Stern. Strong. But not stronger than her. Never.

“Oh? And what would make this client happy?” Ana mocked.

His eyes fixed on hers.

“Your cunt”

The blunt word took Ana by surprise. Instinctively, she took a step back, fighting to ignore the way her body was starting to betray her. The heat between her legs grew.

“I think you really have the wrong idea here…” she mumbled.

“And I think you loved what happened last time. You loved being a good little urinal. You loved falling to your knees and getting your face fucked. You loved taking every inch in, being used by a man to get off. You enjoyed being an object, a toy, a weak little thing”

His words were like daggers. Ana tried to brush them aside, but her soaked crotch made it impossible to ignore their effect. She had to be strong, had to resist the urge to…

“No… no, I’m strong…” she half-moaned.

“Do you feel strong? Do you want to be strong? Be honest now. Your body is telling you the truth. Do you want to be a strong, independent domme… or a little, weak fucktoy, ready to be used, to be taken and conquered? What does that pussy tell you?” he teased as he took another step towards Ana. His hand darted between her legs. There was no hiding now. No hiding her wetness. A traitorous moan escaped her lips.

“S-strong…” she said.

He seemed so large now. So overpowering. So…

“Bend over”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It wasn’t a request. It was a command. Before she could catch herself, Ana was turning around, her head bowing down low… no, this couldn’t be happening… she was strong…

The sensation of her pantied being pulled aside with no care or foreplay only sent her further down the shameful spiral. It was so… casual. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, the way it should always be. An order and instant obedience. Holes always ready.

He entered her violently, and she screamed. He was stretching her, filling her, taking her, owning her. His hands grabbed her hips like she was nothing but a doll and his thrusts pushed her need for control further and further down, each wave of pleasure telling her this was what she was, what she should be, what she was meant for. Being fucked. Being weak and obedient. Being conquered. She tried to fight it, in vain. Her body was too strong, the pleasure too much. She couldn’t hide it, couldn’t stifle her own whimpers of animal joy, couldn’t stop her mouth from drooling like nothing more than a dumb animal.

“Isn’t this better?” he hissed in her ear. “Isn’t this what you really want?”

“F… Fuck… I… fuck!”

He pulled her hair, riding her, playing with her following his own whims. Words appeared in fragmented sentences, in irresistible flashes in Ana’s mind. Was she saying them out loud? She couldn’t know. She didn’t care. The world had faded away, her strength revealed as a mirage.

“Fuck… toy… please… use me… I… fuck… don’t want to think… empty… horny bitch… just… holes…”

“And you love it so much…” he growled.

“I… don’t… I… God, I love it! I love being your doll! I… I…”

“You should pay me for making you feel this good”

“Yessss… yes, you… you deserve… everything… anything you want… my mouth… my pussy… my… my money… I… this is what I am…”

“Good girl”

Those two words triggered something in Ana. Something primal, something lurking deep inside her. They grew and occupied her entire mind. Good girl. Good girl. All she needed to be. All she needed to hear. Good girl. A good girl. Her body tightened around his cock. Her legs trembled. She was near. She… she didn’t want to give in, and needed it more than anything. She was weak. Too weak to resist. And it felt amazing.

“Good girl… good girl… I am a good girl… need to be…”

Her orgasm turned her words into a scream. It was a scream of defeat, of ecstasy, of shame and fulfillment. She felt his hot cum deep inside her, and the knowledge that she had pleased him suddenly was the only thing that mattered. The world was reduced to that simple, perfect need. To please him. To make him cum. To be a good girl for him.

Ana kept working after that day. She kept domming men and women, and charging good money for it. And then she would play with herself thinking of the Man, the one Man that owned her. In her mind, when she broke people she broke them for him. She pretended to be strong for him, and that made her even stronger, even better as a domme. And every now and then, the door would ring, she would look at the door cam and see him.

Those days, she buzzed him in and fell to her knees.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu !!

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darlin-djarin · 1 year

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in my relation to my post about how din's covert is not a cult

if you want to know how and why it isn't considered a cult, please look at @loveoaths post here

now here is what needs to be said: din's covert is NOT a cult. it is an orthodox religious group that takes their creed very seriously. they are not "evil" and "cruel", they are simply religious and din values that very much so.

the notion that dins covert is a "cult" also forms the idea that din should remove his helmet and go against the creed. this is wrong. if you truly believe this, you are not considering the real life consequences of saying things like this. even though din's religion isn't "real", there are many aspects about it that IS real in MANY religions around the world. the belief that din should take off his helmet because his religion is "wrong" can harm so many people in real life. imagine telling a hijabi, or a sikh, or anyone who wears a religious head/body covering that you don't agree with their religion and therefore they should REMOVE their head/body coverings... like wow. just. wow. even if din's creed isn't real, the things you SAY about it can harm real people. many people who wear religious head/body coverings were overjoyed with the mandalorian because they felt SEEN. they felt respected and they felt normalized to see something so similar on screen. implying that din should just take off the helmet because you think his creed is "wrong" is literally harmful, no matter the fictional or real life context.

so MANY of the mandalorian fans are just white americans who don't understand the real impact of religion. yes, religion CAN be corrupt and yes, it can be used for manipulation, but dins covert is a HEALTHY religious relationship, if you REALLY think about it. religion in the west has become something criminalized and something that people stray away from because a lot of christianity and christian beliefs have changed overtime to manipulate and abuse it's believers and so many people stray away from religion and/or disregard it altogether. therefore, so many people don't understand what a real healthy religious relationship is and people can't recognize one even if it's right in their face.

now there are many arguments towards din's creed that i've seen so i'm going to answer some of them so y'all can understand:

"but what if they get injured and people can’t save them without the helmet coming off?!?!”

mandalorians HONOR warrior deaths. if they die then they die with the helmet on. period. i don’t wanna hear shit about morality or whatever. you either respect other religions or you don’t.

“it’s cruel that grogu will never see din’s face!”

the helmet IS din’s face. it’s an extension of his body and his armor is a part of his identity. what din did, removing the helmet once for grogu to see him, was a special moment and was din’s active choice to do that. to HIM, he felt like it was necessary therefore it happened. it’s not cruel for din to hide his face. PLUS there is a whole love language for mandalorians. without the normalized “acts of service” people are used to, mandalorians MUST have a way to convey their love. through customized and personalized acts, mandalorians can show affection all the same. like a keldabe kiss. it’s just as important and valid as a real kiss and mandalorians invented a way to kiss others without having to break the creed. there are probably so many other ways that mandalorians created to show affection without breaking the creed.

"they hide in the sewers and hide their faces!!"

yes for PROTECTION. they were MASSACRED in the past. their planet is left in ruins, they are devastated. hiding away and not showing their face PROTECTED THEM for SO LONG. it was their way of survival and their religion stemmed from that.

"redemption/being forgiven for transgressions is impossible!"

YEAH NOWADAYS. back THEN redemption was available because mandalore wasn't blown to pieces yet. OBVIOUSLY THE CREED WASN'T PREPARED FOR GENOCIDE SO WHY WOULD THEY MAKE THAT RULE IF THERE WAS NO CHANCE OF REDEMPTION??

religion is always good in moderation. but there doesn't NEED to be any moderation because din's creed has absolutely nothing wrong with it. PLEASE stop calling it a cult.

#y'all make me afraid to become a hijabi atp #can't have a damn day #star wars #the mandalorian #“cult” my ass #din djarin #grogu #oil.

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antipatriarchyaurora · 2 years

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Abortion As A Medical Right

So many pro-choice arguments focus on the economics of abortion rather than the mother’s health. Without first establishing the dangers of pregnancy, all pro-choice arguments fall apart, which is why I felt so compelled to write this post. Abortion is more than just women’s rights, reproductive justice, or privacy. It’s a medical right, first and foremost.

Pro-lifers argue that abortion isn’t worth it even if that means the child ends up in foster care. If you said that a life of poverty is better than death, then I wouldn’t disagree. But this isn’t about death vs the quality of life. This is about death vs death.

I don’t know how to convey to you the gravity of pregnancy and childbirth. Most people don’t get it. Pregnancy sucks so much of your nutrients, blood, oxygen and energy out of your body. It can cause serious and irreparable physical damage, organs slipping and falling out of place, stress on the heart and cardiovascular system, tears and so much more.

Evolutionarily speaking, during pregnancy, the mother’s body is 50/50 invested in her survival and 50/50 invested in the offspring’s survival. The offspring’s body is evolutionally 100% invested only in its own survival. It doesn’t care about the mother’s body at all and will destroy it if it needs to survive. You know who told me that? My biology professor. I used to only be lightly pro-choice, but my education only cemented my pro-choice stance even more. I studied maternal mortality. I know things that most women don’t know. It was from there that I knew that a) I never want to be pregnant and b) I’ll always be pro-choice.

Some abortion bans allow exceptions if the mother’s life is at stake, but what they don’t get is every mother’s life is at stake. To understand the danger of pregnancy, what you must understand first is that the nature of pregnancy is inherently complex and unpredictable. Anything can happen. You can be young, healthy, wealthy, have the best doctors and still your pregnancy can go wrong. That’s what happened to Lauren Bloomstein. She had everything in her favor. She was a nurse herself, knew the doctors and was in the best hospital. Her pregnancy was very smooth-sailing until the very end when she unexpectedly died. You cannot predict what happens during a pregnancy, so no woman should be forced to take on those risks and should be allowed to have an abortion as early as possible to avoid those risks.

This isn’t frivolous bodily autonomy. This isn’t like getting a tattoo or dying your hair. This isn’t for cosmetic reasons. This is for medical reasons. It’s to preserve your own health and literally, your own life. You won’t die from not getting a tattoo. But you can die from pregnancy.

“Abortion is murder!”

First of all, you sound like the vegetarians who chant “meat is murder!” And yet, even the most militant vegans aren’t asking for meat eating to be illegal. Technically speaking, eating meat is more murderous than abortion. I admit this even as a carnivore.

Abortion is less black-and-white than murder, and what makes abortion more nuanced is that there’s another life at stake: the mother’s. Letting pregnant women die is also murder! That’s why different religions have different ways of handling abortion. In Judaism, for example, the mother’s life always comes first.

I don’t want children to die either. I want to protect teen and pre-teen girls, you know, the actual child, from dying from pregnancy.

“If you don’t want to be pregnant, just close your legs!”

Forcing a woman or girl to go through all the risks of pregnancy, including death, after she’s raped is more cruel than aborting an unconscious embryo.

“But that’s rare!”

Being so dismissive of these situations shows a lack of empathy from the “pro-life” side. Rape is not rare. Lots of rapes go unreported and even then, some rapists never get convicted. The point of laws is to protect the rare and vulnerable. You can sleep soundly tonight knowing that the chance of an intruder coming into your home and murdering you is statistically low. But on the rare chance that that happens, you hope the law is on your side.

“You don’t have the right to murder!”

Actually yeah, sometimes you do, for self-defense. If an intruder comes into your home and threatens your safety, you have the right to act in self-defense. The toll of pregnancy on the body is so high that ending a pregnancy really is a form of self-defense.

“Abortion is murdering babies! That means toddlers and children can be murdered too! Where’s the line?”

First, you need to be born to be a baby. Anything before that is a fetus.

Second, birth is that line.

If you were to have a second body inside of you and this arrangement could pose a significant risk to your health and livelihood, you have the right to remove said body in the interest of your own health. You don’t have the right to kill that body once it’s been removed from you because it’s no longer affecting your body.

Abortion is the early termination of pregnancy. If a baby lives through that termination, that means that baby is born and shouldn’t be killed. That would defeat the purpose of the abortion, which is to terminate the pregnancy of the mother, not necessarily to kill the child. So the term “late-term abortion” is meaningless. Because termination of pregnancy at that stage is usually just an early birth.

You have the right to terminate your pregnancy at any time. You do not have the right to kill the baby once it’s born. Once the baby’s outside of your body, you have no right to dictate what happens to it. It’s no longer in your body. It’s no longer affecting your body in any way.

Terminating a pregnancy is a decision between the pregnant person and her doctor to determine what’s medically appropriate. Government officials with no medical knowledge sitting in a congress building should not be intruding on that decision.

While life does start at conception, that relies too much on the technical definition of life. Plants and microbes are also life but we don’t treat them the same as sentient creatures like animals. That means there’s a more meaningful indicator of life, a human meaning of life. That is, your experience as you pass through the world. That’s why we often describe life as beginning at birth and ending at death, as going from cradle to grave.

Consciousness/sentience really is an indicator of whether we regard life. In order to be conscious, you need sensory input (either from the past or present). Birth is the first moment that the baby receives sensory input from the external world and starts building their conscious experience. Birth truly is the defining moment of life.

There’s no reason why the life, safety and health of the mother, who’s undeniably a living, conscious, sentient being (and whose body is being used) should be sacrificed for a ZEF who’s not even yet conscious. The mother’s life comes first. Always. No questions asked.

That’s why the personhood argument still matters. If you think crushing an acorn is the same as cutting down an oak tree, that you’d rather save 1000 embryos than 1 newborn, then I have no words for you.

If you can accept 1) Bodily Autonomy, and 2) Personhood that makes abortion justifiable.

“What about exceptions for the mother’s life?”

While that’s a nice idea in theory, I have serious doubts how it would play out in real life. Knowing the health care system for what it is, this would only create more administrative burden. Imagine you’re at death’s door, and now you’re required to provide burden of proof that you need an abortion to save your life.

Doctors might hesitate and hem and haw and wait while the mother’s life is in imminent danger because they’re not sure if the mother is sick enough to legally perform an abortion. Delaying care is extremely dangerous because when it comes to medical emergencies, every second counts.

This goes beyond ectopic pregnancies. Making one exception for ectopic pregnancies isn’t enough. Pregnancy is such a complex condition that there are so many rare and unique scenarios that you cannot foresee.

“But pro-life is feminist because females get to be born!”

As a woman, I find that insulting. You only care about my life up until the point I can get pregnant? After that I’ll be at mercy to be exposed to the dangers of pregnancy? How is that sanctity of life? Where is my sanctity of life to protect my life at all costs, to preserve my physical and physiological integrity from cradle to grave? All that tells me that you only got my back now before I’m even born, only for 10-20 years later, you got my back no more.

“But Margaret Sanger was racist!”

And Thomas Jefferson was a slave owner. Does that mean we should cancel the Declaration of Independence? Just because these people represented awful things doesn’t mean every thing they advocated for is bad. Despite Jefferson being a slave owner, it was things like the Declaration of Independence that paved the way for other civil rights, including the abolishment of slavery.

It’s not anymore racist than increasing the “domestic supply of infants.” The world is already overpopulated. We have 8 billion people on this planet. There's more than plenty to replace us. And there’s a very clear solution to the domestic birth rate problem and that is immigration. Rejecting that obvious solution is racist.

#pro choice #pro-choice #roe v wade #roe vs wade #roe v. wade #roe vs. wade #abortion

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kingdumkum · 1 year

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kasey KasEy KASEY !!!

i NEED you to do D, E, and K of the dirty alphabet for Baji and Kazutora 🥵 like… I don’t think you understand how much of a primal need this is 😩🤌

Love you to the moon and back x3 bb girl 🫶🏻💕

dw it's a primal need for me too apparently!

*shouldn’t have to reiterate that they’re aged up, per my RULES, but they are. AU where everyone lives. Baji, Chifuyu, and Kaz have a pet store that, very accidentally, turns into a pet clinic. Kazutora still went to juvie but not because he killed Shin (he survives the attack)—then gets sent back when he gets caught lighting a cop car on fire… with the cop still inside (unbeknownst to him). my real world AU’s are complex. no apologies. i live in a bubble and it’s very cozy here.

D - Dirty (how do they dirty talk? What do they say?)

BAJI runs his mouth. he speaks without thinking, words running faster than his brain —so dirty talk with him goes one of two ways: 1. he starts cocky and arrogant and thinking everything’s by his design. he’s the one stripping you, he’s the one teasing you, he’s the one in complete control. and he demonstrates that by saying the type of thing he knows will rile you up; ’like that, sweetheart?’ and ‘don’t worry baby, I know exactly what you need…gonna give you just what you need,’ and ‘cumming again, really? i haven’t even fucked you proper yet…’ it’s a mix of dirty praise and sweet degradation, bc he’s too smug to control his attitude. but when he actually gets inside you? well… 2. he loses the ability to speak. literally. no matter the position, no matter how many times it’s been, every time Baji buries himself in you for the first time, he loses all higher brain function. the recovery time varies, but without fail, there’s more than a few heartbeats where all he can do is whine your name. breathily moan in your ear. close his eyes tight and try to will himself to last longer than a few weak strokes—and he does. most of the time, at least—but it’s not until you whine his name, fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back, pleading with him to give you more, that he’s able to put on a semblance of the confident, smug, authoritative aura he had when you were at his mercy. it’s Different though; a little shakier. A little less of a cocky tease, and a little more of a pleading question. Same words, different intonation—‘like—like that? yeah, you like that?’ and ‘i know—i know what you need baby, gotta—gotta trust me, yeah? gonna—gonna give it just the way you need…’ and ‘gonna cum for me, sweetheart? y-yeah, me too, gonna cum f’you too…’

keep in mind that KAZUTORA spent the better part of his formative years starved from soft hands and kind words. his version of love was formed by his parents abuse of him and each other, of their neglect and resentment for his very existence. the first kindness he experienced was from a friend who “abandons” him, and while he is able to heal the fragile parts of his mind by the time he’s grown… the lack of ability to grow with people, healthy people who view love as a strength, not a weakness, fundamentally fucks with his vision of what love is, and how to convey it. i can understand why some people might view him more along the aggressive/stern side, and while i am weak for that kind of thing, i can’t see that on Kazutora like 98% of the time. it just doesn’t take into account the mental growth and stability he finds in juvie the second time around (this does NOT apply to jealous/posessive sex, btw, that’ll have him reverting to being teasing and cruel and mean real quick—this applies to the majority of your time with him) SO! that's important to establish so that i can explain how Kaz has the sweetest dirty talk you will ever hear, because there’s no front. there’s no performance or perfection in what he says; what falls from those lips is exactly what he’s thinking, because in those moments of bliss with you, he doesn’t have to hide. he doesn’t have to pretend to be more than he is, moans of your name, pleas to keep going, that usually stuff—but also the praise he’s desperately seeking. ‘you feel like—heaven,’ and ‘never—never knew—someone could feel so good—’ and ‘think—think i fuckin’ love you…’ LOTS of confessions here. lots of accidental i love you’s that really do translate to everything he’s done, even if he’s never able to say it outside the bedroom. he praises you in a way he’s been searching for his whole life, without ever realizing it.

E-Exposed (what is the most daring place they’ve had sex?)

You’d be hard-pressed to find a spot that BAJI hasn’t gotten freaky, but his freakiest dare has been on the back of his bike. he’ll tell you to put on something pretty, take you on a little drive, and pull over—a different spot every time. you’ll watch the sunset, or count the stars, or look out at a brightly lit ocean. he’ll drape an arm over your shoulder, press a kiss to your head, and to anyone who might be driving be, you look like a sweet young couple, stealing kisses and so focused on each other, the rest of the world doesn’t exist. they don’t see the way your panties have been tucked into his belt, or how his fingers prep you just enough so even with his impressive girth, he slides in easy. they attribute the way you hold him close to being cold, or that you’re saying goodbye for a long time, or hello for the first time. they think the way your legs shake are because the bike’s engine is too powerful, and they wonder why a guy like him doesn’t get that looked at. but don’t be deceived by his sweet smile and gentle way he slowly moves his hips; he’s whining in your ear to stop squirming, or someone will see for sure this time.

another horn dog; you say the word and KAZ is yours, however you want him, whenever you want him. he pushes back initially, but only in that sweet, pleading, everything-he-does-embarrasses-him-already kind of way, the are-you-sure-it’s-me kind of way—because he never says no to you. ever. so he goes along with your more wild requests—but the riskiest place that was all his idea? the counter of the pet shop… right before closing. sweet boy didn’t even bother locking the door before he had you propped up on the freshly sanitized counter, your legs wrapping around his hips and his lips attached to your neck in an almost violent manner. he usually has more self-control, these days, but he couldn’t resist then, and when you didn’t stop him… (huge fan of the bathroom quickie, btw—particularly during a slow day when it’s just him and Chifuyu and he knows the latter can hear)

K-Kink (what is their secret kink?)

we all know the obvious for BAJI; marking, exhibitionism (loves to get you off knowing that other people, particularly Chifuyu and Kazutora, can hear), sharing (Chifuyu and Kaz are basically a package deal in this relationship), but something i feel is oft overlooked is mirror sex. not because Keisuke finds himself pretty (though he does), but because when he fucks you in front of a mirror, he can see everything; the way your ass bounces against him, how his cock splits you in half, the pretty arch in your back as you’re on all fours in front of him, the way you go cross-eyed as you feel him in your throat… he never says anything because he knows how everyone will react; they’ll call him narcissist, they’ll assume he likes the way he looks when he fucks, they’ll misunderstand. if he could, he’d fuck you in a room of mirrors, if only to see what you look like from every angle with him buried in your guts.

the idea of family is so strange to KAZUTORA, but he can’t deny the way cumming inside you does something to him. he’s not ready for kids, doesn’t know if he’ll ever be ready (is anyone?), but he damn well knows that as long as you let him, he’ll be filling your sweet cunt up with his load time and time again. the nasty little fuck will eat it out of you, too—and be ready to go for round 2 by the time you’re cumming on his tongue. it’s not much of a secret, except the part where he makes sure you never leave the house without his cum dotting the lining of your panties.

#makings of greatness #kasey's adventure book!#kasey's collection: tr #baji #kazutora #tell me why it spent more time trying to figure out the stupid tags than writing UGH #anyways this was gr8 thank you for listening #hated to lose: dirty alphabet

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crazypaperwasteland · 2 years

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Another Damned Meeting Part 1

Summary: Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a bone to pick with the Night Court, again. Only, will Eris finally show his true colors in order to stop Beron from taking away the thing that he loves most?

Father!Eris x Reader

Warnings: Nothing really, maybe like one swear word

Word Count: 1.7k

Masterlist

Part Two

A/N: So I have come to a new conclusion because I have gotten requests for part 2′s to my work before. I’ve decided that before I post a part 2 to any of my works, the first parts need to have at least 50 likes. So on this post, up until it gets 50 likes, I won’t post a part 2, sorry. This is just because I want to feel like more than just a few people want a part 2 so that I’m not wasting my time writing something that people aren’t even going to read.

I dreaded this moment, I had dreaded it from the moment I found out my family secret. Azriel could see it, I knew he could. He could see how my panic was slowly consuming me as we awaited Beron’s arrival. He was coming to the Court of Nightmares to say whatever he wanted to. He was bringing his sons with him, and the Lady of Autumn.

Beron and his sons sickened me, and the Lady of Autumn…. I didn’t know how to feel about her. She’d given up, she’d let herself marry Beron when she could have been happy with Helion. She had a choice between the two, and for some inexplicable reason, she chose the most ruthless and cruel High Lord in Prythian. Granted, none of the High Lords were very pleasant, but Beron was the worst of them.

I sat in my designated chair, in my training attire. I knew it would anger Beron, me being a female, and not getting dressed formally for his arrival. That’s what I was going for. I owed this male nothing, even if he made me nervous beyond belief. Azriel stood behind my chair, rubbing my shoulders while his shadows tried to sooth me further.

Azriel leaned down, “none of us care what Beron has to say. If he makes one move against you, just one, there will be war, do you understand? He will not touch you.” His voice was so matter of fact, but I hoped it would not come down to war. If I could prevent it, I would do anything that Beron asked of me. Because we all knew how Beron was, and basically anyone who stood against him ended up in a ditch somewhere, dead.

Azriel moved away and instead sat down beside me, letting me know without words that Beron was here. His shadows retreated but he grabbed my hand under the table and rested our joined hands on his thigh, just to let me know he was there for me.

Everyone but Rhysand was sitting on one side of the large black table, the other side was freed up for the Vanserras’. The gigantic doors opened and then walked in Beron. His eyes fell on me for a split second before they went to Rhysand. “Rhysand,” he greeted, “perhaps you should tell your court that in the presence of another High Lord that they should be….dressed appropriately.” A pointed glance towards me.

My eyes clashed with Eris’s, he seemed to be trying to convey something to me, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Rhysand chuckled in his usual High Lord manner, “do I need to remind you that we do not owe you anything? We don’t even need to be having this meeting.” A pause while Rhysand glared into Beron’s eyes, “you’re in our court, you’d do best to remember it.”

Beron frowned and growled in his throat, “very well.” He moved to sit down, his family following suit. The Lady of Autumn kept her head down, so much so that I wondered why Beron even brought her along. What was the purpose?

To demonstrate that females are weak, mistress, I heard one of Az’s shadows whisper in my ear. To demonstrate that he can make anyone submissive to him. I felt bile rise in my throat at that, Azriel squoze my hand slightly to ground me.

“I assume you know that your spymaster’s second hand is my granddaughter, yes?” Beron stared right into my eyes, I didn’t let myself cower, I held his powerful gaze. If the Illyrian camps taught me anything from the moment I was tossed into them, it was to never give in to terrifying men. I was a Valkyrie, and a member of the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I would not be afraid of him.

Beron blinked and then locked eyes with Rhysand again once he realized I would not break his stare. Eris visibly swallowed at the look in his father’s eyes, or mine, I couldn’t figure out which.

“By right, she belongs to me. I want you to give her to me.” That made me balk, who did this male think he was?

Rhysand shook his head as he sat down, laying his elbows down on the table beside Feyre’s. Beron purposely didn’t acknowledge her presence. Rhysand tsked, “Beron, Beron, my friend, there is no absolute proof that she is your granddaughter, just a midwife who happened to let it slip that she was a Vanserra. Is she really to be trusted?”

There was no doubt about it, I was a Vanserra. The fire that crackled in my veins was proof of that, and Eris had sought me out one time or another. I still remembered my seventh birthday in the Illyrian camp, I had somehow convinced the warlord in charge to let me train with the big boys. I’d earned my place in the training ring, something none of the other females had.

Eris had dropped in. I didn’t know who he was at the time, but he watched me get my ass kicked by the burliest male in the camp. When I had been taking a break, just to gather my bearings, he told me to go for the right leg first. That the male was visibly hurting when he put weight on his left, and that if I took out the right first, he would have no leg left to stand on. That male knew to never mess with me again after I took Eris’s advice.

It took centuries before I knew the truth of who Eris was to me. I never viewed Eris as cruel before then, because for some reason when he spoke to me, he spoke with an air of some emotion I couldn’t pin down. I only viewed him as cruel when I found out that he’d given me up and thrown me into an Illyrian war camp instead of keeping me. I couldn’t fathom why any father would do that to their child.

Beron turned his head to look at Eris who sat to his right, “Eris,” he beckoned.

Eris huffed a laugh, “I never claimed she was my daughter, did I? I’ve never referred to her as my daughter.”

Beron scowled, “she is my granddaughter. She is a Vanserra, she has the fire of our bloodline. She may not be yours, but she is one of my sons’.”

Eris smirked after a beat of silence, looking directly at Lucien who was standing against the wall behind me. “I’m afraid, father, that she is not your granddaughter by blood. For she is Lucien’s daughter.” Beron furrowed his brow, his gaze glowing with unbridled fury. “And unfortunately, Lucien is not your son.”

Beron turned his fiery gaze to the Lady of Autumn who was staring at her oldest son with a look of betrayal. Then at Beron with a terrified expression, one that was pleading, pleading for forgiveness. I wondered how I was even related to that female.

After that, Beron disappeared with his family. Leaving Lucien wondering who the hell his true father was, if Eris’s words were even true. That confusion didn’t last long though.

Eris reappeared in the Court of Nightmares not long after he left. Everyone got into a defensive position while I stayed poised on the sofa I was sitting on, a dark satin one. I sipped from my wine glass.

Rhysand glared at Eris, “you do realize what you’ve done, don’t you?” Eris tilted his head like a cat at Rhysand, a slight smirk on his face. “Beron is spiraling now. I told you already, when the time came, I would help you become High Lord, but I never said I would help you drive him mad.”

“You think that’s why I did this?” Eris chuckled, “you’re as dense as I thought you to be if you believe that.” Azriel stood ready to jump between me and Eris if need be, growling low in his throat. “Down, dog. I’m not here to hurt anyone. In fact, I just saved your asses from a war. So really, you should be thanking me.”

“Why would you do that, Eris?” Lucien snarled, “Mother knows what he is doing to-”

“To our mother? Yes, I know.” Eris’s smile dropped, “you think I’ve forgotten? I don’t regret what I did if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“I want to know why. I would never expect you to regret anything Eris, let alone making your own mother suffer the wrath of him.” Lucien shook his head in disgust, “he’ll kill her. He will kill our mother, do you not understand that? How could you-”

“Make no mistake, Lucien,” Eris stalked forward towards his brother, “I would violate everything sacred under the sun in order to keep her safe,” he pointed at me. “I would humiliate and debase myself if it meant that she would not have to suffer Beron’s wrath. Do you have any idea what he would have done to her if he got his hands on her? You have no clue what he had planned for her.” He got up close and personal to Lucien, “I would have loved nothing more than for all of this to be avoided.” His stoic face wavered, “but it couldn’t. I have no regrets but the fact that because of Beron I didn’t get to raise her.”

I frowned behind my glass at that. Mor seemed to be…shocked. She looked at me and shook her head. He’d been telling the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Azriel stood closer to me, his hand nearly touching mine, as if he would throw me out of the way if Eris made one wrong move.

Eris opened his mouth to say more, when Lucien seemed speechless. Lucien had known that I wasn’t his, I couldn’t have been. But to hear Eris admit so openly that I was his daughter, that he cared for me, it must have been a shock to him too.

I spoke before Eris could spew more words out, “thank you, Eris.” I now knew what that look he’d been giving me when he walked into that room meant. It meant that he would not let anything happen to me, he would not let his father hurt me. Eris looked at me again now, “thank you.” No more words needed to be said, he knew. He gulped and nodded once, looking into my eyes to let me know what he was trying to say. You’re worth it.

#eris #eris vanserra #eris vanserra fluff #eris x reader #fluff #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel #beron vanserra #high lord beron #rhysand #feyre archeron #mor #cassian #lucien vanserra

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birdiewolf · 11 months

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HSR and Genshin Fans leave VAs alone challenge‼️‼️

Leave it to Hoyoverse fans to never learn how to separate the VAs from the characters they voice or to express their opinion without coming off as a hateful imbecile

The genshin fandom’s done it repeatedly with VAs from all dubs, and now Star Rail’s fandom doing the same to the English cast

I need y’all to leave VAs the fuck alone. If you don’t like their voice acting or you feel like their voices don’t suit the characters, then that’s fine. It’s okay to hold an opinion as long as you’re not crossing the line.

Unfortunately, a lot of y’all don’t know where the line is or what it’s meant to be. There’s a line between expressing your feelings regarding a certain matter, and targeting individuals because of your dissatisfaction with their actions. A lot of y’all mfs cross the line and do the latter:

Talking badly about VAs in their own comment sections…

Tagging them in hate posts…

Sending them disgusting messages privately on social media…

It’s insane to me that there’s so many fans for Hoyoverse games that don’t have enough brain cells to understand what basic etiquette and human decency is and how to convey that online.

It’s okay to have a preference for jp dub over the en dub—what’s not okay is to pretend like your superior for having that preference and what’s even worse is telling the en VAs that during their live streams and comments

VAs are people too. Yes, they’re popular. Yes, they have big followings online. But they’re still fucking people. They still have feelings and can have their mental health affected by cyber bullying. And no amount of money or fame can override that.

If having money and being famous offered some sort of shield for celebrities against the hate they face, then many of them wouldn’t be turning to alcohol or drugs as a distraction. There are famous people who have literally committed suicide because of the bullying and harassment they’ve faced. And guess what? They had money. They had fame. But none of that could protect their mental health against the cruel words that belittled their existence again and again.

Leave VAs fucking alone. Yes, it’s okay to not like their performances. It’s okay to hold an opinion on the content they deliver. But don’t fucking forget that they’re people who deserve respect just like everyone else.

And some of y’all are straight up sexually harassing VAs (looking at you genshin tiktok and twitter twats). Tell me why the fuck some of you are tagging VAs in nsfw content about the characters they voice?? Why the fuck do you think that’s an okay thing to do?? And not just that a lot of y’all use AI to copy their voices so that you can get off to the characters saying nsfw shit…most of the genshin VAs have explicitly stated that they don’t want their voices incorporated into AI…but you assholes dgaf about their feelings, reputation, or agency…

I hate every single one of you who do this to VAs. The Voice Acting Industry is so exploitative. VAs are underpaid and unappreciated immensely even though it’s their work that plays a major role in selling a medium such as video games or cartoons. VAs aren’t compensated for putting up with your bullshit, so literally leave them alone.

I can’t imagine how HSR en VAs must be feeling right now. It’s honestly so sad to see how so many of them were super excited about being able to voice such cool characters in a popular game, only to be met with backlash regarding their performances. And the fact is that the backlash is 90% comparison to the jp dub. Most of its not even about their voice acting…it’s all because their voices aren’t the fucking same as the jp dub…

#genshin impact #genshin fandom #mihoyo #hoyoverse #mypost #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr fandom #voice actors #genshin va #hsr va #voice acting #genshin english dub #hsr english dub

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pepperwebsblog · 8 days

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Love Letter 3

Here's the plain English version of the love letters from my fic (Love Letters)

Dearest, The unthinkable has happened. The thing which I dreaded the most, above all things has occurred. Dapper lost a life today. My love, I don’t even know how I can explain it without breaking down. I am barely holding myself together. Dapper now sleeps, he is currently in my arms as I pen this letter to you, he is safe for the moment, but it has been a truly horrific day. Cellbit and I were busy building a satellite as part of the secret work we are doing to investigate the Federation and we were attacked by a binary code monster. I have mentioned them before, they have threatened but never before committed outright murder. It set its sights on Dapper and wouldn’t give up until my son was dead on the floor. I did all I could to defend him, but it wasn’t enough. I failed. It’s strange isn’t it, how loss and grief, are perhaps the form of love most acute; the feelings that make you realise how strong that love was to begin with. I felt everything within me cry out at the injustice of my son’s lost life. I would have torn the world asunder, I would have dived down deep into the River Styx to retrieve his soul myself had the gods permitted it. I would burn this entire world for him my dearest, such is my love for my son. I know not what the future holds for us but I know Dapper is integral to it. Life without him is not worth living. How one small being could change my entire reason for existing is….unreasonable. Someone, somewhere is having a laugh at my expense. This was not how I envisioned my life panning out. Fatherhood has changed me. I see the world though his eyes now, the wonder, the fascination, the passions, the cares, the love. This letter has been an indulgence. Forgive me my dear, it has become a reflection on that which so many have experienced, but until this moment, not I. Parenthood. My soul is forever changed. One day I hope you can share in this too, You have my heart as always, it’s just a little bigger now thanks to Dapper, Bad

And here’s how it translated into the flowery version.

My Dearest, In this darkest hour, I must convey the gravest news. The unthinkable has happened. That which I feared above all else has come to pass. Dapper, my beloved, was robbed of one his lives. Oh, my love, words fail me as I attempt to articulate the depth of my despair. I am but a shattered vessel, barely able to contain my anguish. Even now, as I pen this to you, Dapper rests in my embrace, sheltered for this moment from the cruel hands of fate. Yet, the horror of this day weighs heavily upon me. Cellbit and I, engaged in our clandestine efforts to unravel the mysteries of the Federation, found ourselves beset by the monstrous binary code entity. This foe, of which I have spoken before, had hitherto only menaced us with its threats. But today, it descended upon us with lethal intent, fixating its malevolence upon our dear Dapper, until his first life was cruelly extinguished. I fought with all my might to shield him, but alas, my efforts were in vain. I have faltered, I have failed. Is it not a cruel irony, my dear, that in the face of loss and sorrow, the truest essence of love reveals itself? My heart cries out against the injustice of Dapper's untimely demise. I would tear the world asunder, I would dive into the inky depths of the River Styx, defying the gods themselves, if it meant I could reclaim his precious soul from the clutches of death. For him, I would lay waste to all creation without hesitation, such is the depth of my paternal devotion. The path ahead is shrouded in uncertainty, but of this I am certain: Dapper is now forever woven into the fabric of my destiny. To contemplate existence devoid of his presence is to entertain a life devoid of purpose. The notion that a single, young, innocent, child could so profoundly alter the trajectory of my being is beyond comprehension. Surely, Fate, that capricious arbiter of destinies jests at my expense. This was not the life I had ever envisioned, but it is now one I embrace. Fatherhood has wrought a profound metamorphosis within me. Through Dapper's eyes, I now perceive the world anew—the wonder, the awe, the boundless affection. This letter, though born of sorrow, and indulgent in its musings, serves as a testament to the transformative power of parenthood. Parenthood, with its joys and trials intertwined, hath left an indelible mark upon my very being. Mayhaps, one day, you too shall partake in this sacred bond alongside me. Know that my heart, though heavy with grief, is yours, its capacity for love simply expanded now thanks to Dapper, Yours, in sorrow and in love, Bad

#my fics #love letters fic

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maanimationblog · 1 year

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On the 16th of November, I visited the Manchester Animation Festival. I previously attended the festival in 2019, and it was great to go again.

The films I watched included:

Little Things stood out to me since I no longer eat meat for the same reasons highlighted in this animated film; factory farming not only destroys land but is also cruel to animals such as cows, chickens, and pigs. I believe that by employing a somewhat 'cute' visual style and transitioning to incredibly mortifying scenes of the cattle being force fed grain and herded into packed areas, this film did an excellent job of demonstrating how atrocious these practises are.

The antagonist is depicted as a large looming shadow that rakes through the forest with its fingers, this symbolises humankind's destruction of nature. Through the use of its angular and dark shapes it conveys an ominous sense of threat whilst emphasising the idea of humanity as something separate from nature itself. As the protagonist travels down through the woods, she is forced to abandon her friends as they feed on the grains planted by the humans. This demonstrates how the human-animal relationship has been exploited to benefit society without regard for what happens to those who are affected by these practices. When the protagonist finally reaches the edge of the forest, she finds herself standing on a cliffside, overlooking a bloody river and destroyed trees. This scene highlights how mankind continues to exploit the natural world despite knowing the devastating effects it will inevitably cause. By juxtaposing images of forests full of life against one of them being cut down to make way for new farmland, the viewer is reminded of the consequences of their own actions.

Despite being upsetting to watch, I believe it is an excellent approach to educate people who consume meat on why it is so vital to check where it is produced. Purchasing from large corporations that do not care about the environment or the welfare of animals is detrimental and contributes to the deterioration of the planet.

The second film that stood out to me was

As someone who loves dogs and has disabilities, this film was a breath of fresh air. I admire how the golden retriever develops from his bicycle accident to finally overcoming his fear when he becomes a guide dog. The screenwriters' understanding and passion for this is apparent, and the CGI animation is extremely expressive. This is my favourite film that I saw.

This film's lighting is vibrant, especially during scenes featuring the golden retriever playing with his mother or the scene where he is training alongside the other dogs; these colours help create a sense of wonderment as well as add depth to each shot. For example, there are many shots showing the sun shining on their fur, which gives off a warm feeling while also giving us insight into the character's personality: Andy is a playful and caring character. Furthermore, the background music adds another layer to the emotional experience by helping convey certain emotions through subtle changes in tempo. These aspects contribute towards creating a more heartfelt environment, allowing audiences to sympathise with Andy's situation.

The third film that stood out to me is

This film, like Little Things, emphasises the importance of land preservation and research. Nobody would be able to hear the recordings of the last known Kauai O'o A'a bird if it weren't for John Sincock. Although the true story on which it is based is heartbreaking as the Kauai O'o A'a bird is now extinct, I feel animation and cinema are vital in educating people about history. I had never heard of this bird before watching it, so I learned something new, and it also made me want to research more about the species.

The final film I wish to speak about is

When I first saw this, I thought it was an awareness campaign for something, but there was no information at the end. Despite it being impressive from an artistic standpoint, I did not enjoy this one. This film was memorable because of how uncomfortable it made me and I wonder if that was the director's intention.

There were a large collection of films that were all amazing in their own right, but all of these films stood out to me the most. They also helped me to understand on how long it would take me to produce my animated film as I will be most likely making quite a lot of models.

#DE4402

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