#period appropriate language

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

#Mike POV for most of it #Mike is one of Steve's kids #and they both hate that lmao #pre steddie (its at the end) #this has both #mentions of #el/mike #and #byler #Mike's going through a sexuality crisis anyway #period appropriate language #Ronance mention #lumax mention #mike sneaks into a gay bar #that isnt a gay bar lol #let see what else #coming out #acceptance #a lot of sass #Title is Up and Down that Road #I love writing Steve like hes that older teen in the goonies #just suddenly saddled with kids while trying to flirt lol

[toskarin]

forewarning that this is mostly just an observational ramble

one thing I've gathered from looking around older western fantasy otaku sites is that, presumably in large part because of the order in which things entered mainstream consciousness, sauron is talked about pretty consistently as the final boss of the lord of the rings

technically, this is true of everywhere, but I want to emphasise that it is extremely common to see younger fantasy otaku a decade or two ago use ラスボス when explaining who he is, as a primary descriptor

[before going any further on this, it probably bears mentioning that the japanese translation of lord of the rings is a bit divisive. when it comes up, it's either in the context of how impressive the translation is (skews older) or in how unreadable it is (skews younger), because it's translated into antiquity prose. apparently exceptionally so, even for a fantasy novel, so it was very much extreme nerd shit]

a big part of this is, of course, just the idea of the final boss having more awareness than tolkien at the time the movies were coming out. I imagine almost the exact same thing would happen more or less anywhere that video games hit mainstream nerd awareness before tolkien did, but there's something else that I think might have something to do with it, because if you're looking at old enough threads, you notice that not only is sauron being explained as the final boss, but this is being mentioned in contrast to morgoth not being the final boss

which seems a bit random (morgoth doesn't exactly come up enough in lotr proper to cause this confusion), if you don't know that angband, where morgoth is the final boss and sauron is just the midboss, was pretty popular with western fantasy otaku. well, popular in the way that cult classics are, but you know how it goes

with that in mind, it makes sense that it was (at one point, before tolkien was more accessible through other channels) something people called each other fake fans over

so in a kind of interesting way, namedropping sauron in fantasy otaku spaces that skewed younger (for a time) was almost equivalent to namedropping morgoth in western fantasy nerd spaces. that all kind of stops being the case once you have the peter jackson movies immediately at hand, though

there's also the fact that, because it's a little harder to read lord of the rings in japanese, someone who's casually into the book is much more likely to also go ahead and read the silmarillion, which helped rings of power get incredibly popular with older audiences in japan when it came out. as a fun side effect of all this, there's a bit more morgoth x sauron shipping around

#also should be clarified that the specific way that tolkien is translated in japanese is like #seemingly made to create a generational divide in people who have strong opinions on whether you should use kanji in western location names #same argument as always: do you translate for western sound or period-appropriate language #and its answer is a resounding 'both'

[uefb]

New fic: Older, or Two Brothers and a Train Station

Summary: In 1897, Theseus becomes an older brother, and his little brother Newt is perfectly normal… Until he's not. Over the years, Theseus thinks their parents are only doing what is best for Newt until--he decides over the course of a few holidays at home--they actually, very much, definitively aren't. // This story largely follows Theseus as an older brother, from holidays during his Fourth Year in 1902 (the year Newt's differences finally become undeniable) to part-way through World War I (1917). It paints a picture of how two such different brothers grew up together, fell apart together, and began--eventually--to finally find one another again. // All it took was getting older.

Excerpt from Chapter 1 (after introduction):

“So - you remember how Newt’s magic has always been a bit - ah—” his father paused, apparently to select the right word. “Enthusiastic?” he concluded.

“Yes,” Theseus hesitantly replied, sipping at his butterbeer and fixing his dad with a look that nearly made him squirm.

“Well, it’s recently gotten a bit out of hand. His magic has always been more connected to his emotions than some people’s is—hasn’t it?—and as he’s gotten older—”

Helios was tapping a finger on the table and staring at a spot on the wall as he thought, and Theseus knew better than to interrupt him, so he let him wander on.

“Well, I can only hypothesise that as his mental capacity has grown, so too have his magical abilities. But he’s different from you—isn’t he?—and Newt doesn’t have the best control over his reactions to certain things...”

Theseus nearly snorted—that was a bit of an understatement. Just last summer, when Theseus had suggested they rehome a tiny lizard, which Newt had been capturing every morning in the kitchen to release back into the grasses, at a property down the lane, Newt had stared at him for a solid three seconds before a tiny sphere of light wrapped itself about the reptile, and—when Newt screamed in surprise—it proceeded to bounce out the door and across the field, disappearing past the treeline. Theseus had then been forced to soothe an incoherently sobbing four-year-old for the next fifteen minutes, until he’d eventually resorted to locking him in his room and pounding off in search of their mother, who was—at that point—(unsurprisingly) already hysterical on the ground outside Newt’s window: In the time between Theseus locking the door and making it outside, the uncoordinated imp had decided to try shimmying down the drainpipe in search of the lizard, instead of staying put like a reasonable child was meant to…

“So I personally believe,” his father was continuing in the here and now, and Theseus jerked out of his reminiscence, “his intellectual abilities have outpaced his emotional ones.”

He nodded his understanding, raising an eyebrow in the hopes his father would continue, because none of this was exactly unexpected and had, also, still explained very very little about why his brother was at St. Mungo’s...

“Which—of course—all that would be fine in a non-magical child, if a bit difficult for his parents, but as a young wizard…” he trailed off and winced, and Theseus felt his eyes narrow. “Well. The Ministry’s labelled Newt as a bit of a threat to magical secrecy.”

“They’ve what?” he exclaimed, setting down his drink with a clank that created a momentary silence around them, and Helios hissed at him to be quiet. “But he is five years old!”

“I know, I know,” his father waved a placating hand, before returning to stare at his own drink. “It’s utterly absurd, but the law is the law—”

“I know that.”

“—so we have had to comply with Underage Magic’s requests, which include rudimentary magical training and—” He paused, blinked. “—treatment for intellectual deficiencies,” he said quickly. “Both with a healer, once a week.”

Theseus blinked.

“We try to schedule them when your mother already has to come into town, so—”

“But - but Newt’s not an imbecile, Dad.”

“Oh, I know he’s not, lovey…”

There was a long silence, then, in which both he and his father picked up their drinks with a sigh, before dropping elbows to the table to stare at one another. x

#gentle content warning for period appropriate ableist language #my stuff #fantastic beasts fanfiction #theseus scamander #newt scamander #autistic newt scamander #scamander brothers #oc_ch: helios scamander #fic: older or two brothers and a train station

[meirimerens]

you know i must have been bone-tired when this part of the herb brides lore didn't come to my mind when i discussed how the Kin fundamentally differs from the cultures it is inspired by um There Is The Human Sacrifice part. like it's an important part of pathologic 2 that you are doing human, or anthropomorphic (if you want to see the Herb Brides as closer to spirits, which comes with its own set of problematics regarding how to approach their oppression) sacrifice. it's an important part of pathologic 2 that you kill a woman, as part of the journey and in direct resonance with you ritualistically killing cattle earlier, and she offers herself to you with cultural and religious significance.

human sacrifices have been done across the globe for millennia, but i cannot, for the life of me, find any source at all that mentions the Buryats (since that was the discussion point) partaking in human sacrifices by the turn of the 19th-early 20th century (or even anything past the 16th). every single source mentioning offerings and sacrifices i've read mentions animals, things such as milk and vodka, and often both at once. would love to read anything about these rituals if papers exist, but i'm personally drawing a blank.

the Kin has Obvious and very Visible influences but it also differs from specific (in this discussion's case, the Buryats) or wider (here, turkic/mongolic as a whole) cultures from the area by so many pieces, big and small, that i wouldn't have enough appendages on my whole body to count them all. and sister. i have plenty of appendages.

#i AM reading a paper that mentions the human sacrifices at Mongol burials where people (typically servants or family) would be sacrificed #to accompany the dead; as well as the Shor practice of sacrificing women/girls (replaced apparently quickly by sacrificing ducks) #but those seem pretty old [the Mongol part mentions the 13th century] & like. nothing about the buryats in that time period #i'm like 85% sure i saw in the beginning of being into patho someone saying how equating the Kin; who practice human sacrifices [& others] #to correlate/be meant to represent Real Life ethnicities is insulting because They Don't Do That. #and like. everythingggg that touches upon representation/appreciation/appropriation/theft is subjective and #informed my how much leeway you're willing to give the creators so that's like #bro i'm just reading PDFs #also just found out the discussion of ''The Kin Is Obviously Inspired But Not Meant To Represent [x]'' is over 2yrs old. we're still at it. #as anon said. ''unless you're tolkien; coming up with a whole fictional language is hard''. #anyways appendage time. stuff that differs just out of the top of my head: #everything relating to the religion which is almost a complete inverse of buryat tengrist/shamanic faith + don't get me started on buddhism #the clothes. the homes. the creation myths; beyond the apparition of Clay; which is present in so many cultures on earth #no swan ancestor. no lake worship. no sky/heavens. no tens of named hierarchical deities. NO BURBOT! no hats. no hats (burts into tears) #NO HORSES? ON THE EURASIAN STEPPE? #the belief that earth mustn't be cut is so buryat. i'm sure i've read it. no idea if it is also in other mongolic peoples but buryat it is. #also a bull-ancestor/bull totem. that exists in buryat tribes; but they also have a bunchhhhh of other sacred animals (including. swans. #also horses. there's this [charm?] made out of horse hair there is) #neigh (blabbers) #i'm realizin how crazy i sound repeating shit that has been said 2yrs ago but like someone already mentioned the human sacrifice. #someone already mentioned the clothes. someone already mentioned the yurts/gers. someone already mentioned the religion #like i'm just. repeating stuff. and yet. give it up for year 2

[bedlamsbard]

Sometimes you just gotta write a brainwashing and kidnapping plot yknow

see, I've never actually gone all the way with brainwashing! the closet I've come is Hera in Backbone. I'm always more interested in "the terrible things we do to survive" than the kind of mind control/brainwashing we usually see in fiction, which is why Bucky and Yelena or some reads of Loki don't really do it for me. though I guess that depends on how one wants to define fictional brainwashing.

#found out while checking period-appropriate language for home that 'brainwashing' wasn't invented until the 1950s #the word that is; the concept existed already #typeoneninja #bedlam replies

[writingwithcolor]

Not all Second-Language Speakers are Made Equal.

@waltzshouldbewriting asked:

Hello! I’m writing a story that features a character who’s first language is not English. He’s East African, specifically from Nairobi, Kenya, and is pretty fluent in English but it’s not his primary language, and he grew up speaking Swahili first. I’m struggling to figure out if it’s appropriate or in character to show him forgetting English words or grammar. From what I’ve researched, English is commonly spoken in Nairobi, but it wouldn’t be what was most spoken in his home. For context, this is an action/superhero type story, so he (and other characters) are often getting tired, stressed, and emotional. He also speaks more than two languages, so it makes sense to me that it would be easier to get confused, especially in a language that wasn’t his first. But I’m worried about ending up into stereotypes or tropes. For additional context: I’m monolingual, I’ve tried to learn a second language and it’s hard. A lot of how I’m approaching this comes from my own challenges correctly speaking my own, first and only language.

Diversity in Second-Language English

You seem to have an underlying assumption that second language acquisition happens the same for everyone. 

The way your character speaks English depends on so many unknown factors: 

Where does your story take place? You mention other characters; are they also Kenyan, or are they all from different countries?

Assuming the setting is not Kenya, is English the dominant language of your setting? 

How long has your character lived in Kenya vs. where he is now? 

What are his parents’ occupations? 

What level of schooling did he reach in Nairobi before emigrating? 

What type of school(s) did he go to, public or private? Private is more likely than you think. 

Did his schooling follow the national curriculum structure or a British one? Depends on school type and time period. 

Does he have familiarity with Kenyan English, or only the British English taught in school? 

Is this a contemporary setting with internet and social media?

I bring up this list not with the expectation that you should have had all of this in your ask, but to show you that second language acquisition of English, postcolonial global English acquisition in particular, is complex. 

My wording is also intentional: the way your character speaks English. To me, exploring how his background affects what his English specifically looks like is far more culturally interesting to me than deciding whether it makes him Good or Bad at the language. 

L2 Acquisition and Fluency

But let’s talk about fluency anyway: how expressive the individual is in this language, and adherence to fundamental structural rules of the language.

Fun fact: Japanese is my first language. The language I’m more fluent in today? English. Don’t assume that an ESL individual will be less fluent in English compared to their L1 counterparts on the basis that 1) it’s their second language, or 2) they don’t speak English at home. 

There’s even a word for this—circumstantial bilingualism, where a second language is acquired by necessity due to an individual’s environment. The mechanisms of learning and outcomes are completely different. 

You said you tried learning a second language and it was hard. You cannot compare circumstantial bilingualism to a monolingual speaker’s attempts to electively learn a second language. 

Motivations?

I understand that your motivation for giving this character difficulties with English is your own personal experience. However, there are completely different social factors at play.

The judgments made towards a native speaker forgetting words or using grammar differently are rooted in ableism and classism (that the speaker must be poor, uneducated, or unintelligent). That alone is a hefty subject to cover. And I trust you to be able to cover that!

But on top of that, for a second language speaker, it’s racism and xenophobia, which often lend themselves to their own ableist or classist assumptions (that those of the speaker’s race/ethnicity must be collectively unintelligent, that they are uneducated or low class due to the occupations where they could find work, or conversely that they are snobby and isolationist and can't be bothered to learn a new language). Intersections, intersections.

If you want to explore your experiences in your writing, give a monolingual English speaker in your cast a learning disability or some other difficulty learning language, whatever you most relate with. And sure, multilingual folks can occasionally forget words like anyone else does, or think of a word in one language and take a second to come up with it in the other language. But do not assume that multilinguals, immigrants, or multiethnic individuals inherently struggle with English or with multiple languages just because you do.

~ Rina

#asks #accents #speech #language #languages #bilingual #bilingualism #ESL #immigration #east africa #african #writeblr

[saraswritingtipps]

Writing Child or Teenage Characters:

Writing child or teenage characters requires an understanding of their unique perspectives, thoughts, and behaviors at various stages of development. Here are some tips to help you capture the essence of child or teenage characters realistically:

1. Research Developmental Stages: Familiarize yourself with the developmental stages of children and teenagers. Understand the physical, cognitive, emotional, and social changes that typically occur during these periods. This knowledge will help you depict characters at appropriate stages of maturity.

2. Voice and Dialogue: Pay attention to the language and vocabulary used by child or teenage characters. Their speech patterns, sentence structure, and word choices may differ from adult characters. Reflect their age and level of education in their dialogue to make it authentic and relatable.

3. Emotional Authenticity: Children and teenagers experience a wide range of emotions, and their emotional responses can be intense and sometimes unpredictable. Show their emotions through their actions, reactions, and internal thoughts. Be mindful of age-appropriate emotional depth and understanding.

4. Observational Perspective: Child and teenage characters often notice and interpret the world differently than adults. Highlight their unique observations, curiosity, and innocence. Allow them to have a fresh perspective that can bring a sense of wonder or discovery to the story.

5. Growth and Development: Portray child or teenage characters as evolving and growing individuals. Show their learning experiences, mistakes, and the lessons they learn along the way. Capture their gradual understanding of the world and their evolving sense of identity.

6. Relationships and Peer Dynamics: Explore the dynamics of friendships, peer pressure, and social hierarchies that are prevalent during childhood and adolescence. Show the influence of friends, family, and mentors on their thoughts and behaviors. Highlight the importance of relationships in their lives.

7. Hobbies and Interests: Reflect the passions, hobbies, and interests that are common among children and teenagers. These activities can shape their identities and provide opportunities for self-expression. Incorporate their hobbies into the narrative to add depth and authenticity.

8. Growth of Independence: As children and teenagers mature, they seek more independence and autonomy. Depict their struggles with authority figures, their desire for freedom, and their exploration of boundaries. Balance their growing independence with their need for guidance and support.

9. Challenges and Coming of Age: Explore the challenges and rites of passage that child and teenage characters face. Address issues such as identity formation, peer pressure, academic stress, bullying, first love, and self-discovery. Treat these themes with sensitivity and avoid trivializing or dismissing their experiences.

10. Evolving Relationships with Adults: Capture the evolving relationships between child or teenage characters and the adults in their lives. Show the shifting dynamics, conflicts, and moments of connection. Avoid portraying adults as one-dimensional authority figures or overly understanding mentors.

#writing #writer on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #character development #writer tumblr #writblr #writing advice #oc character #writing help #creative writing

[jacevelaryonswife]

The way that you move

It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x wife!reader

warnings: porn with 10% of plot. p in v sex. english is not my first language. 1,1k.

Even if it’s recent, your marriage to Prince Jacaerys was very promising and pleasant due to the commitment employed by both parties. Your husband was very polite, good-natured and kind, and you strove to be the proper and loving lady wife that Rhaenyra Targaryen's heir needed. In addition, the engagement period was charming and prepared the ground for a young and happy union, much better than most of the weddings of the other court ladies in all aspects, or almost all because unfortunately not everything was flowers. The subject in question referred to the misfortune moment of bed that tormented you and your husband.

Neither of you had experience, which made it a little traumatic for both of you, especially painful for you but quite fast too, proving to be a great relief (not crookedly for Jace). Throughout the act the prince remained redder than a ripe tomato and hated several aspects that were part of that situation, the first was not being able to reverse the pain you felt, because he didn’t know the female body to bring some relief to his good wife and because it ended up faster than dornish wine in celebrations. The precocity wasn’t at all bad for the situation, but it wasn’t exactly the virtue that a man should be proud of — but it served to your beautiful face was no longer dented with discomfort.

He apologized vehemently after that and assured that he didn't want to hurt you and that you didn't need to do it again without wanting to, a really sweet gesture that had you waving to him and ensuring that everything was fine. “My mother said the first contacts are painful for the chaste ladies,” you said. And in fact it was terribly uncomfortable, until last night...

Gods, what was that? It was the best physical feeling you felt in your life and it seemed so profane to admit it while letting pleasurable sounds escape your throat. It was so good! And that was the problem!

How should you approach your husband about repeating that night? It wasn’t appropriate for a lady of respect to desire the lusts of the flesh, but the fire in your bowels kept your mind trapped in a single and delicious setting, so your only mission that day was to find a demure way to ask your sweet Jace to make you come as your friends had instructed. What a scandal! There was no way to say this out loud, not even other ways to approach the topic seemed decent! Everything seemed like a complete disaster until the moon emerged and the inhabitants of Dragonstone gathered in your chambers, just like your husband and you.

The thick sheet that wrapped your body was responsible for hiding most of the bold and light blue lacy dress you wore, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the watchful eye of Prince Jacaerys, especially when he joined you in bed. That was the ideal moment to execute your plan in the urgency of the last minutes, which consisted solely of action.

"Jace, husband, can I kiss you?" You tried to contain the anxiety of what you wanted to happen next by leaning over it gently.

“Of course you can, my love,” he smiled sweetly and his beautiful brown eyes shone with tenderness. He was so adorable.

After many attempts (some slow and others sloppy) you understood a part of the mechanics of kisses and began to appreciate and perform the art often. His full and terribly soft lips were pressed so pleasantly against yours in the initially chaste kiss, who became sensual and lustful thanks to your desire. Oh, you couldn't wait any longer.

Climbing on his hips, you interrupted the kiss to face those beautiful brown eyes. "I want to do what we did last night."

“D-do you, my lady?” He asked surprised, "do you really want to?"

“Yes, husband,” you purred and kissed him deliciously again, playing with his tongue as you moved your intimacy dressed over his groin, making you both sigh. “I want it now,” you said during the kiss, sitting in the center of his body to remove the dress and expose your naked body.

The poor prince followed the whole situation astonished, stunned by his newly existing disinhibition but not a little dissatisfied (just worried). "M-my lady, shouldn't we wait until you're ready?"

“I'm already, my prince, I've been ready since the first rays of sunshine,” you knew what he was referring to and learned from the other ladies that the moisture between the thighs was a positive indication. And you've been uncomfortable wet since you woke up. "Do you want that?"

“I do,” he nodded hypnotized, holding his soft hips to squeeze the flesh gently.

It was not secret that the prince has never been with a woman before and the fact never bothered him, but he would like to have experience to properly satisfy his wife in pleasure meetings. He quickly flipped through a book on the subject as his cheeks warmed up and his limb hardened shamefully. After that he tried to remember some information to use at the moment, such as knowing that women needed time and a certain humidity so that they could feel pleasure, however, almost all reasoning was lost when your hands released his masculinity and involved him. He grunted low in response, breathing hard to prepare for the- Seven heavens!

You sank deliciously into the thick and soft shaft, ecstatic by the indiscriminate sensation of being filled. There was no way for something so good to be considered depravity, no, it was totally adequate, it was so right to jump freely on the cock of your charming Jacaerys and enjoy what he had to offer. The prince was so confused, drunk and excited by the way everything happened that he was dazzled by the beast that mounted him ardently. If in the previous times he made an effort not to end quickly, this time he was begging the seven heavens for the moment to last.

“Take off your tunic, my love, I want to see you,” you said between sighs, moving up and down constantly, moaning shamelessly.

He did what was asked, sitting in bed with you on your lap just to kiss you fervently and pull you down with him, moving your hips with yours. The gesture was much appreciated when his legs got tired of doing all the hard work, limiting himself to rubbing against his groin while he repeated the action, the constant and strong friction.

“Wait! Wait! I need some time... I-I want this to last,” he said between heavy breaths, almost begging.

"Right, right."

— "It's hard to describe, it's intense, hot and your whole body shudders at the sensation. It's probably the best thing you'll feel in your life."

Your friend Belinda's explanation of the apex of female pleasure returned to surrounding your mind again, making you yearn to discover such a sensation. It was torturous to accommodate your husband inside and not be able not to move your hips, even though it was for good reason. And he, well, he was almost exploding with pleasure.

Jace pulled you for an excited and demanding kiss, very different from the ones you used to share but just as good. Good? No, better. His tongue touched yours in a different and sloppy way, which would strumble you

The prince wasn’t blind about women but never dared to give himself to a pleasure before the wedding — he was less man for that. He thought he wouldn’t be so affected by carnal pleasure, but he could not deny that the attraction he felt for his beautiful wife increased every day and each time you lay down together. He longed for it more quietly.

“Keep going, my love,” he held your buttocks when you remained in the same position, moving your hips experimentally to keep up with your pace.

“Yes, husband,” you sighed numb, kissing him again as you moved sloppyly, dragging your hips against his groin. Gods, how good it was.

Although he was loving the position he was in, Jace felt a sudden urge to cage your body against the bed, so he turned you lovingly to take control and pushed your hips against his at a constant pace that stole the air from both of you. The thought that happened in your head was indecent, but it was the complete reality of the situation. It wasn't love made between you and your husband, no, you were fucking with all the lust there was.

He rested his face on your neck as he hit you deeply, the delicious and maddening friction building a euphoria in your unknown stomach and making your walls squeeze madly. “Jace!” You moaned loudly, scratching his back as you held him more between your legs. “Oh! Jace!” Your sight turned white and your whole body spasmed on bed, the most wonderful feeling in the world numbing your senses.

That was too much for him. Both the grip around his cock, as well as your sounds, as well as the call by his name and his own limit sent him to the apex in the blink of an eye, grunting in your ear in such a sensual and deep way that it made you squeeze even more. For the seven, what had just happened?

Such pleasure from such indecency made him hot, confused and red like wine. Your breaths were heavy and agitated, stabilizing slowly and silently on the soft bed as you sighed satisfied with what had just happened. "So that's how it feel? Now I understand why some people indulge in promiscuity," you commented in a good mood, feeling your body return to normal. "We will do this more often, yes, husband?"

Who was he to deny your request? (Especially on the content of the request).

"Of course, my lady." Yes, your husband was perfect.

═════════════════════

taglist

general: @valeskafics @fan-goddess @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

jace velaryon: @howyouloveyourdragon

#jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys smut #smut #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon smuy #jacevelaryonswife masterlist #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys velaryon x you #harry collett #jace velaryon #hotd fic

[ao3commentoftheday]

What would you usually advise for an aspiring writer who just... Doesn't have a wide range of English vocabulary? :( I've never written anything yet but for many times in my life, I've been surrounded by literature and fanfiction that I feel at home with the topic. I have stories in mind for my fandoms that I wish that I can write. But the problem is-- English is not my first language. I worry that my dialogues or storylines may not sound appropriate if I ever write and it reaches audience outside my country. I also worry that my world knowledge and or social awareness may be so small that I may not make things... relatable. Do I need to read a lot before being able to start to write? Because I read somewhere that good writers are also wide readers.

I definitely agree that reading more (and reading broading across genres, cultures, and time periods) is a valuable way for a writer to spend their time. By reading, you become familiar with the components of writing and how to put them together. You get a feel for styles that really resonate with you and you also learn what kinds of writing you just don't really like much at all.

That said, I don't think you need to do all of your reading before you start writing. Watching a lot of youtube videos about swimming isn't going to do much for you until you actually get into a pool. Knowing the theory is only half of the battle. Being able to practice is important too.

Remember, you don't have to do it all in 1 story. You can start by writing things that are within your knowledge and when you're comfortable doing that, you can see if you enjoy researching too. If you do, then great! You've got more potential topics to write about. If you don't, that's great too! You get to dig in deeper on the themes and touchstones that you already know.

There's nothing shameful about getting really good at writing the same few things. No one ever asked Agatha Christie to stop writing about murder because she really should branch out.

Having simpler vocabulary is also nothing to be ashamed of - although based on your ask, I think you don't have anything to be worried about. For this, and for the other worries you've expressed, I recommend asking a friend (either in person or in fandom) to read over your work with you. A beta can be there to help with grammar and spelling, but they can also assist in developing ideas or identifying opportunities you have in your story. They can be a cheer reader or a sensitivity reader too.

When it comes to being relatable, just remember we're all human. We all live. We'll all die. We all feel happy and sad and angry and bored and hungry. A lot of us fall in love. A lot of us have caring families. Some of us are heartbroken for almost all of our lives. The city that we do it in or the workplace or the type of school doesn't matter. It's the experience part that's universal.

I'd love to hear from other authors who write in second (or third, etc) languages about your thoughts on this one. And for everyone else, please feel free to share your thoughts as well.

#asks and answers

[circethesinner]

inevitable ⟐ xavier thorpe

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader oneshot (second person pov - she/her pronouns used for reader - occasional use of Y/N)

warning(s) : mild language, best friends to lovers, mutual pining

word count: 6.4k

⭑•⊱✩masterlist✩⊰•⭑

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

summary: you and xavier had been best friends since you were 7, and nothing could change that - that is until you start to develop a new power that makes you question everything you think (or rather, what everyone else thinks)

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Normies usually strayed away from adopting outcast kids. They just didn’t know how to appropriately handle their slightly more complex needs.

Unfortunately for your adopted mothers, the realisation that you, their child, possessed psychic abilities hit at around the 5-year mark when they walked into your nursery and discovered that all of your bears were floating around the room, performing beautiful and elaborate ariel tricks. At first, they jumped to the conclusion that they were being haunted. In some ways, they wished that were the case. Ghosts could be exorcised, but a child who could undo a childproof lock (or five) to get into the cabinet where the candy was kept within mere seconds wasn’t easily fixed with a call to the local priest.

So, as soon as they could, they would ship you off to outcast summer camps and school programs. It's not that they didn’t love you; they just didn’t know how to help you manoeuvre your powers. 

Naturally, you resented this for a lot of your childhood. You couldn’t understand why your adopted siblings got all the time with your moms while you were sent away. Fortunately, as you matured, you grew to understand it and accept that what they were doing was for your benefit as much as theirs. Your moms were doing this to help you learn more about your powers from others who shared them, not punish you for having them. 

Of course, understanding and accepting the decisions didn’t exactly make the feeling of abandonment go away, but it was enough to subdue and push it down for some therapist in 20 years to pull out and deal with.

There were some plus sides to being sent away so often, one of which being the best friend you had made on day one of the very first outcast summer camp you had been sent to when you were 7 years old.

You and Xavier Thorpe got along like a log cabin on fire, which is coincidentally what almost got the pair of you kicked out of that summer camp on your first week. 

Xavier was sent away by his father while he was on tour. Touring the world would be far too stressful for a child; at least, that was the excuse that was given whenever anyone questioned where Xavier was.

Both of you being sent to Nevermore Academy was inevitable. Under the promise of not burning it down, together, you had fixed up the old shed so Xavier could use it as an art studio. You had occupied one of the corners where the two of you had set up a desk where you could work on your writing.

Together, you spent most of your free time tucked away like that, talking about anything and everything as you individually let your artistic creativity fill your individual pages. You would only stop talking when you demanded silence so you could focus, which would last about 10 minutes before the two of you got distracted and started talking about something else.

You were about 6 minutes into one of these silent periods when Xavier slowly stepped back from his canvas and inched towards your corner. Engrossed in your work, you didn’t notice he was in front of you until he spoke up.

“You’ve got some paint on your nose,” He pointed out. You closed your laptop instinctively; you had never liked sharing your writing with anyone, not even Xavier. 

You looked up at him in confusion as you hadn’t touched any of the paint scattered around the studio that day. “Really?” You asked, crossing your eyes to try and look at your nose. “Are you sure? I don’t feel-” You were cut off by Xavier swiping his thumb over your nose and smearing some paint on it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” He laughed, trying to step back as you made a grab for his arm. You just about caught his sleeve and used it as leverage to pull him down and wipe your nose clean with it.

“You are such an ass!” You groaned, trying to hide the laughter that threatened to bubble up. It was the third time that week he’d gotten you with that trick.

“Speaking of ass,” Xavier grabbed his own chair to sit opposite you at your desk.

“I have a great one?” You grinned, trying to use a tissue to wipe the remaining paint residue from your face. “Thank you, I know!” You froze when you could have sworn you had heard Xavier respond with a quiet ‘true’ but shook it off as your mind playing tricks as you hadn’t actually seen his lips move.

“That is not what I was going to say,” Xavier playfully rolled his eyes. “Speaking of ass, have you done Mr Cooper’s homework?”

“Are you suggesting Mr Cooper is an ass, or that he has a great ass? I mean, I’ve never looked myself, but I respect the-” You yelped out as your leg received a kick from under the desk. You pouted dramatically as he shook his head at you, but you cast your mind back to your chemistry class the day before. You hadn’t been paying much attention as it was the final class on a Friday, and you were just excited to sleep past 6am the following day. “Did he assign homework?”

“I’ll take that as a no; you haven’t done it,” Xavier grabbed his rucksack, which you had been using as a footrest. “Though I already knew that because I picked up your sheet when you left it on the desk.” He pulled the worksheet out and waved it in front of your face.

“This is such bullshit!” You groaned as you plucked it from his grip and scanned the questions. “He never assigns homework!”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Xavier! You are such a good friend!’” Xavier teased, doing his best impression of you… His best was awful.

“A good friend would have just done the assignment for me,” You sighed dramatically, putting the sheet down on the desk and pushing it back towards him.

“You mean the way I do half of your other assignments for you?” He pointed out. You had mastered one another's handwriting years ago and often took turns in doing one another’s assignments depending on who was better at the subject or who could bribe the other better.

“Yeah, half of them!” You fired back. “That only makes you half of a good friend, an okay friend, if you will!” Your friendship was built on this sort of playful teasing. 

“Well, as an okay friend, do you want to work on this together after dinner?” He asked, checking the time on his phone. “Which started like 5 minutes ago.”

“Shit!” You exclaimed, shooting up from your chair and shoving your laptop in your bag. “Come on! Get your butt in gear, or all the good food will be gone!” You frantically urged, walking around the desk to tug at Xavier’s arm to get him up and going.

“I’m coming!” He laughed back, getting up intentionally slowly. “Just give me a minute or two to pack up all my stuff. Save me a tray!” With a distressed groan that echoed through the shed, you let go of his arm and walked off, mumbling something along the lines of ‘snooze, you lose’ as you went. Xavier laughed and checked the time again one last time before he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, knowing that dinner wouldn’t actually be ready for another hour and preparing for the hellfire that you would rain down on him when you realised he’d tricked you again.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Studying sucked. That was something you had acknowledged a long time ago. But studying while you had a bad case of hiccups was so much worse. Especially when the hiccups caused your powers to go absolutely wild; with each hiccup, the pen you were holding flew out of your hand and launched itself to a new corner of the room.

At first, Xavier thought it was an elaborate plot to get him to do your work again as revenge for the dinner incident. However, when your pen launched out of your hand and stabbed the door, he realised you weren’t joking around.

With a grunt of frustration, you got up to retrieve the pen once again, mumbling a ‘sorry’ to the door as you pulled it out from the wood.

“What did that poor door ever do to you to deserve such a vicious stabbing?” Xavier joked, trying to lighten up your tense mood.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about the time it smacked me on the ass on the way out!” You gave the door an accusatory glare. “Which it still hasn’t apologised for.”

“How could I forget?” He groaned, recalling the situation in great detail. He’d talked himself into a corner when he’d tried to defend the door by saying that your ass just got in the way and then couldn’t figure out if it would be more offensive to say that your butt was big or backtrack and say that it wasn’t big at all. In the end, he realised he was losing that conversation no matter what he said and just accepted the consequences. “You know, that is the second conversation today that has ended up on your ass.”

You couldn’t contain the laughter at the phrasing, which caused your hiccups to match the energy, and the pen flew from your hand and into the ceiling.

“Oooookay! I think that’s enough pen time for you, or I’m going to be accused of practising archery in my room again,” Xavier laughed nervously as you, still in fits of giggles, stumbled back over to the spare bed in his room that you had basically taken over as your own. It had your favourite blanket draped over it and some of your pillows from home. 

“Your hiccups are just like you,” Xavier pointed out, jumping up to get the pen out of the ceiling before it caused any structural damage. He was tall, so it didn’t take much to reach it.

“Oh yeah?” You asked, your laughter finally starting to calm down. “How's that?”

“Violent and cute,” He shook his head with a smile, but you just froze, unsure if you had heard him right.

“What was that?” You asked.

“Violent,” He repeated, dropping the pen onto his desk.

“No, no,” You shook your head, questioning your own sanity a little. He didn’t have that teasing tone in his voice he usually did. “The second thing.”

“I only said one thing?” He looked at you in confusion. “Are you feeling okay?” As if on queue, you hiccuped again, and a pillow went flying across the room, narrowly avoiding hitting him in the face.

“Never better,” You mumbled, laying back on the bed. You really could have sworn you had heard him say that the hiccups and you, by extension, were cute. It was quieter than he usually spoke, but you could have sworn it in his voice. 

Even though you joked around a lot, he wouldn’t lie to you about saying or not saying something if you asked. So maybe it had just been in your head? It was a weird thing for your head to make up.

“Are you staying here again tonight?” Xavier asked, snapping you out of your spiralling thoughts. “We can watch a movie and finish off those cookies from last night?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” You smiled sheepishly, glancing over at the trash can by his desk to see the empty packet still there, evidence of your crime. “But I ate the rest of those cookies while you were asleep last night.” 

“I know. I woke up and saw you at the end of my bed, hunched over like a little gremlin, shoving them into your mouth three at a time. I thought you were a sleep paralysis demon for a good few seconds. I wanted to record it, but you were like a wild animal, and I didn’t want to startle you by grabbing my phone,” A second pillow flew across the room and hit him in the face that time. Unlike the last, this one was intentionally flung at him. Laughing, he paid no mind to it and reached over the side of his bed and pulled something out from underneath. “I bought two packs and hid one from you- wait, are these open?”

“I may or may not have found those ones while you were in the shower,” You got up and flopped down onto his bed next to him, grabbing both of your pillows to lean on. “I didn’t eat them all, though! I won’t lie; I would have, but you came back before I could.” Rolling his eyes, Xavier reached under his pillow and pulled something else out.

“I bought the third pack,” He admitted, placing them down on the bed in between the two of you. “Hey, your hiccups are gone!” You were about to cheer when another hiccup bubbled up out of nowhere, sending the open pack of cookies flying everywhere.

“Well….” You looked around at the crumbs that scattered the once relatively clean room. “Shit.”

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

You woke up groggily to your name being called out in a hushed whisper. When you opened your eyes, you realised it was still nighttime. Yawning, you pushed off the sheets you had been sleeping under and made your way over to Xavier’s bed.

It was a routine you knew all too well by that point. Part of you questioned why you even bothered sleeping in the spare bed in the first place. Almost every time you would sleep over in his room, you would fall asleep in the spare bed only to be woken up by Xavier after a couple of hours, usually because he’d had a nightmare. He didn’t ever want to talk about it, and you didn’t ask. He’d tell you about them when they were really bad, but he preferred to sketch them out.

Xavier was holding the covers up, and you crawled under them, bringing your arms to your chest using his arm as a pillow. He brought the covers down again over you both, and you closed your tired eyes once again.

That was how you usually slept in the same bed. You didn’t usually ‘cuddle’ when you slept like this. Your arms and legs always kept to themselves, with the exclusion of Xavier’s left arm, which you usually used as a pillow. However, this time, Xavier brought his spare arm over you and held you close to him. Instinctively, you moved one of your arms to wrap around him in return. It was a wordless sign to say that you were okay with this. You could have sworn you had heard a hum of contentment from him, but you passed it off as the start of a snore. Xavier always fell asleep fast, and his light snoring was comforting.

You chalked the change in behaviour up to a particularly bad dream and decided that you wouldn’t bring it up in the morning. Instead, you would just enjoy the added warmth for the night.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

“Enid, my sweet, your tag is sticking out,” You jogged ahead to catch up with Enid’s impossibly fast walking. “C’mere!” Enid stopped and took a step back so you could tuck the tag of her sweater back in.

“Thank you!” She cheered and held her arm out. “Walk and talk?” With a laugh, you linked arms with Enid and started walking together. “I’m so glad you’re here because I was supposed to be shopping with Yoko, but then Divina showed up, and I was totally third wheeling, so I left them to it.”

“Are they actually dating yet, or are they both too scared to make the first move?” You asked, causing Enid to laugh. 

“They’re still dodging around the question,” She sighed playfully. “Reminds me of you and Xavier.”

“What?” You stopped, pulling Enid to a halt with you.

“I said they’re still dodging around the question,” She repeated.

“No, no,” You shook your head. “The other thing you said!” 

“That was all I said?” Enid looked ask confused as you felt inside. “Are you feeling okay?” Instead of pushing things and questioning them further, you took a deep breath and shook it off. Enid was a terrible liar. You had probably just mistaken the wind for words or something.

“I’m fine. Everything is fine,” You smiled and shrugged. Together, you continued to walk.

“Did you have a fight with Xavier or something?” Enid asked. Glancing at her from the corner of your eye, you shook your head with a frown, wondering how she’d come to that conclusion. “He was pouting at breakfast today, and you’re here without him.” Realisation dawned on you, and you laughed.

“He wasn’t pouting!- No, actually, that’s a lie. He was pouting a little bit, but only because he felt sorry for himself,” You explained. “I mistook him for my alarm clock this morning and tried to hit the snooze button, which in this case happened to be his mouth, and now his lip is a bit swollen. I’m here to get an apology gift and some numbing gel.” You reached into your pocket and pulled out the numbing gel you had just picked up from the pharmacy and a bar of chocolate. You had technically bought 3 bars of chocolate, but you had already given in and eaten 2 of them, and the last one was on thin ice.

“How did he get into your room?” Enid asked. “If I remember correctly, which I know I do, your windows have enchanted locks on because he kept sneaking into your room last term.” 

You snorted as you remembered how many times Xavier’s tall figure had been caught trying to climb through your window. Or, more accurately, how many times he had gotten stuck trying to climb through your window, and you had to call for help to get him unstuck.

“I was in his room,” You explained with a shrug. “He’s got a spare bed, and I love Yoko, but goddamn, does the girl snore like a chainsaw. Plus, she wakes up at 6am every morning and starts playing her ‘meditation’ music. I usually stay with him on the weekends because it's the only decent sleep I get! I swear I’ve told you all of this before?” 

“The Yoko part you have definitely complained about to me on multiple occasions,” Enid confirmed. “But how am I only just learning that you have weekly sleepovers with your ‘best friend’.” She used her free hand to put air quotes around the last two words.

“Why are you saying it like that?” You asked. “He is my best friend? You know I love you, Wednesday, and Thing, but Xavier and I have been ride or die since we were seven. He earnt the best friend title way before I knew any of you.” 

“Just admit you both like one another,” Enid groaned, causing you to stop walking again, halting her.

“What are you on about?” You interrogated. “We like one another as friends.”

“I said nothing!” Enid protested, her face easily portraying the confusion she felt. You were about to protest again, but Enid spoke before she could. “No, Y/N, I literally said nothing! Whatever you think you heard, it wasn’t me! Maybe your mind is telling you what you want it to hear?”

“Absolutely not! I heard you! It was your voice!” Your phone started ringing before the conversation could progress any further. You didn’t have to check the contact before answering it. You had set a personalised ringtone for him. “Xavi, I’m on my way back now, I swear! I have the gel and a-” You stopped yourself before you mentioned the chocolate. Truthfully, you knew it would never even get back to Nevermore. “I have the gel!” You repeated.

“I will start this movie without you and then spoil all of it,” He threatened playfully. 

“Don’t you dare!” You gasped, but he’d already hung up. When you looked back up at Enid, expecting to continue the conversation you had been having, you recognised the look on her face as her signature ‘I’m telling everyone’ smile. “What?”

“Xavi?” She teased. “Really?” “Drop it, and I’ll split the chocolate with you,” You bargained, pulling the sweet snack out of your pocket again and waving it around. Enid simply responded by holding her arm out so you could carry on walking together and her other hand ready to receive her share of chocolate.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

“This show has gone to shit,” You groaned, sinking down into the sheets in disappointment.

“What?” Xavier pulled his head away from the screen to watch your movements instead. “You used to love it. It was all you’d talk about.”

“I did love it!” You agreed with a sigh. “But then they had to add all that forced romance in, and there are like 7 different love triangles that all interlock- it’s a pyramid scheme of love!”

“A pyramid scheme of love?” He laughed at your phrasing. “God, could you imagine the dm’s you’d get from people you’ve only spoken to once who had joined that?”

“Hey, girlboss! Long time no speak!” You put on your best bubbly voice as you spoke, replicating one of your moms’ friends who had been pulled into 8 different pyramid schemes. “Are you tired of settling down the old-fashioned way with one person? I was too! But insert a name of a multi-level marketing scheme here helped me take control of my love life!”

“Please never do that voice again,” Xavier pleaded through laughter.

“I think I gave myself a headache doing that,” You snorted, bringing your hand up to your head. It was a fruitless endeavour as you pulled them away again immediately. “Urgh, my hands are too warm. C’mere, you always have cold hands.” You grabbed one of his hands and held it up to your forehead, leaning against it.

“I always have cold hands?” Despite his verbal confusion, he didn’t protest about you using him as a cold pack. “Is that… a good thing?” 

“On this occasion, yes,” You smiled contently, closing your eyes. “During the colder months, not so much.”

“If we held hands more, it would warm them up,” You almost didn’t catch his words.

“You wanna hold hands more?” You asked, confused. Admittedly, you already held hands probably more than most friends did, but that was because you had a tendency to get lost in crowds. It was hand-holding, or one of those leash backpacks parents used on their kids, but Xavier shut that down as soon as you jokingly suggested it.

“How did you-?” Xavier pulled his hand away from you with a frown. You pouted at the lack of contact and opened your eyes again. He paused to look at you, searching for an answer in your eyes, but he gave up as soon as he’d started and just shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t think I said that out loud.”

“We can hold hands more,” You shrugged, smiling at him. “Come on, let's try and get a couple more episodes of this nauseating shitfest in before I have to go back to my own room.”

Xavier perked up at that, leaning over to press play on the next episode.

“I’m calling it now; there will be an unexpected kiss by the end of this episode,” You sighed, leaning your head on Xavier’s shoulder as your eyes settled back on the screen.

“If we’re placing bets, it’ll be between those two,” He added, pointing at the pairing on the screen. You really could have sworn you had heard him say ‘between us?’ just before the actual words left his lips. But you knew for a fact this time that he hadn’t, as the words slightly overlapped, and, as far as you knew, Xavier wasn’t secretly a talented ventriloquist. Though you supposed if you did know that, it wouldn’t be a secret.

Instead, you brushed it off as your tired mind playing tricks on you. Weird tricks for a weird mind.

═══ -ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ- ═══

Four more days.

That’s how long it took you to realise what was going on. Or rather, what you thought was going on. You had to test your theory out, and you knew the perfect person to help.

“Enter,” Wednesday’s voice instructed before you even had a chance to knock on her door. Without questioning how she’d know you were there, you opened the door and closed it behind you once you were in Wednesday’s shared room with Enid.

“I need your help testing a theory,” You pleaded, leaning against the door. “I feel like I’m going crazy- and not the good kind.”

“There’s a bad kind?” Wednesday’s tone barely changed, but you knew her well enough to know she was teasing you in her own way. “I’m intrigued; go on.”

“I think I can read minds,” You confessed with a groan. “Not all the time; I think I can only do it if I’m purposely seeking them out or if the thoughts are… loud.”

“I imagine there are some people who have very loud thoughts,” Wednesday glanced over at Enid’s side of the room.

“Exactly!” You nodded. “And I wanted to test with you because I know I won’t just be reading your body language and facial expressions for clues.” 

“What number am I thinking now?” Wednesday asked, turning her head away from you to look at her desk. Closing your eyes, you tried to push for the connection that you had felt when you accidentally used this possible new power on Ajax just a few minutes beforehand. He had been moping around, and you wanted to know why. It turns out he’d stoned himself again and had missed all of his morning classes, and subsequently got in trouble for being ‘careless’. He was banned from visiting Jericho for two weeks.

When you had sympathised with his struggles and offered to buy him some snacks when you next visited Jericho, he’d looked at you like you had grown a second head which had started speaking Latin. He asked how you had known he was banned. After some confusion and back and forth, you made up some lie about overhearing one of the teachers say something about it and excused yourself.

“37,” You announced confidently to Wednesday as soon as you had felt the connection be made and heard your friend’s monotone voice. It seemed fitting that even her internal monologue was as dry as she was when speaking. “Which US state am I thinking of?”

“Trick question,” You answered proudly. “You’re thinking about Poland, which, unless I missed a memo, isn’t a US state.”

“Very good,” Wednesday didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that you had gotten it right. “Final one, what line from which of Edgar Allan Poe’s works am I thinking of?” She asked.

“But evil things, in robes of sorrow, assailed the monarch's high estate,” You echoed the exact line out loud. “From The Haunted Palace.”

“I think that settles it,” Wednesday confirmed. You opened your eyes to see her turning around to face you again. “Considering I didn’t say a single word out loud throughout that. Not even the questions.” Wednesday’s mouth was pressed firmly closed, though you could still hear her perfectly clearly.

With a small gasp, you intentionally severed the connection and stopped reading her mind.

“Okay, you can think freely again,” You informed Wednesday. “Thank you for helping me test that.” The door you were leaning on was suddenly pulled open, and you only just managed to catch your footing before you had the chance to fall into Enid.

“Y/N!” Enid instinctively held out her arms, just in case you did still fall. “Why are you here? Are you planning a surprise birthday party for me?”

“Enid, your birthday isn’t for another 9 months,” You shook your head with a smile. “Why would we be planning a surprise party now?”

“Because if you do it too close to the time, I would get suspicious when you were sneaking around making arrangements! But if you start now, by the time I’m thinking of it, the party will have been fully planned!” Enid explained cheerily. “I didn’t realise I’d said the party thing out loud? I hope I didn’t ruin the surprise!”

“You didn’t say it out loud,” Wednesday told her. “Y/N can read minds.”

“That’s why you were being weird with Ajax!” Enid immediately pulled out her phone, but you grabbed it out of her hands. “Hey!”

“Please, please, please don’t say anything to anyone yet!” You pleaded. “I need to talk to people first. I need to talk to the teachers. I don’t want people to think I’m going around snooping in on all of their thoughts. That’s not how it works.”

“How exactly does it work?” Enid asked as you wearily handed her back her phone. You didn’t entirely trust Enid not to at least tell Ajax… and then Yoko… and Divina since she would ‘just hear it anyway’ from Yoko… 

“I mean, I don’t know exactly how it works, but from what has happened so far, I need to be talking to someone and wanting to know what they’re thinking. So when I spoke to Ajax earlier, I wanted to know why he was upset, and I guess I accidentally made that brain connection thing happen without realising what it was,” You explained, trying to properly make sense of it yourself and using actual words to describe what happened. “And sometimes people just have one-off loud thoughts that I hear? Some more than others….” Realisation dawned on Enid when she heard the last sentence.

“Well, I’m sorry if my thoughts are too ‘loud’ for you,” She huffed, using air quotes around the word ‘loud’. “I can’t control the volume of my own mind.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” You apologised. “But I can’t control what I hear either, at least not yet.”

“Has Xavier thought loudly about how in love with you he is yet?” Enid asked.

“Xavier isn’t in love with me….” You protested but trailed off as you recalled some of the things that you had thought you had heard Xavier say over the past week, only to now realise that some of them may have been thoughts.

“Oops, did I think that one too loudly as well?” Enid smiled slyly, pointing at you. “Wednesday, look at her face. I asked if she’d overheard Xavier thinking about how in love with her he is.”

“I gathered that,” Wednesday mumbled, wanting nothing to do with the whole ‘love’ ordeal.

You remembered the other night when you had talked about there being an unexpected kiss, and you thought he’d said ‘between us?’ over the words he actually did say. It had been a few nights, and you couldn’t remember the tone he’d said- or rather, thought it in. Was he confused? Hopeful? You raked through your brain but couldn’t remember any of the details for the life of you.

And the comment about hand-holding? That was just in a friendly way, friendly hand-holding. You had held hands as friends before, multiple times, you were usually the one to initiate it, and it wasn’t like you were in love with him. You weren’t in love with him at all, right?

Right?

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You were. You absolutely were. Whether intentionally or not, you had never allowed yourself to think about it, always pushed the thoughts and feelings down before anything could become of them. Always pulled the weeds up, leaving the roots, not realising the roots were just growing and growing under the surface until one day, your whole garden was full of weeds. Except instead of weeds, they were possible unrequited feelings towards your best friend that threatened to ruin everything you had built up over the years you had known one another.

“I need to go,” You excused yourself and pushed past Enid to get to the door, ignoring whatever she was saying in the process. It would have been some sing-song ‘I told you so’, but your mind was too cluttered to pay attention.

You had to find Xavier and talk to him as soon as possible. 

It hadn’t taken long to find him. You knew where he’d be. You always knew where he’d be.

You didn’t knock before letting yourself into the shed; you never had to. It was your shared space.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Xavier looked at you in concern as you sunk against the door as you closed it behind you. “You look-”

“Xavi, I need you to please be quiet and let me talk at you for a bit because I need to say something now before I mess up the words in my head,” You interrupted him before he could finish. With a small nod, he had agreed. His mouth remained shut while you pulled away from the door and paced back and forth. “I’m just going to cut right to the chase here. I have somehow picked up the power to read minds. I hadn’t done it on purpose until like five minutes ago when Wednesday let me test it on her, and then I came straight to you because you have the right to know because you’re my best friend, and we talk all the time, and sometimes I accidentally hear people’s random thoughts because some thoughts are just really loud and some people have a lot of loud thoughts, like Enid, so I just hear them more, and I’m not saying that you have loud thoughts like that, but I think that maybe sometimes you do, which isn’t a bad thing but I wanted you to be aware so-” You had rambled so much that you hadn’t even noticed that Xavier had crossed the room until he had stopped your frantic pacing and held your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together in what you assumed was a successful attempt and politely shutting you up.

“Deep breaths and calm down, yeah?” He said it so softly that it worked almost instantly. You hadn’t realised quite how fast your heart had been beating and how heavy your breath had become until he’d stopped and helped slow it down. 

You weren’t sure what exactly had caused it, whether it was the fast-talking where one word flew into the next, or the flood of emotions that had hit you, or the fear of how he’d react to it all in the end, or just a mixture of it all. No matter what it was, Xavier had successfully calmed you down.

“Dare I ask which of my thoughts were particularly… loud?” Xavier asked, his hands still cradling your face.

“There were only a few?” You replied uneasily. You thought back, trying to differentiate between everything. It was hard when she didn’t realise what they were when they happened. “There was the… hand holding? I think that was one… and, uh…. you called me violent and… cute?”

“Could be worse!” Xavier breathed a sigh of relief. “Could have accidentally admitted I’m in love with you.” One look at your face was all it took for him to realise what he’d done. You stood there, wide eyes staring at one another, each almost daring the other to make a move.

Xavier broke first.

“That was a loud thought, wasn’t it?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“It sure was,” You whispered, your hands coming up to take his own away from your face. Dejection crossed his face for a split second but was erased immediately when you just held his hands instead, cradling them against your chest. You broke eye contact, deciding that looking at the ground made talking easier because you didn’t have to worry about analysing every change in his expression to find the answers.

“Was it…. Truthful? Or did you think it jokingly?” You ask hesitantly, worried about the response it would elicit. Truly, you didn’t know if your heart could take it being a joke.

If the lack of response had worried you, when he pulled his hands away it all but shattered you. However, as soon as the pieces of you had been shattered, it was like Xavier scooped them all up again when he reached for your face and pulled you into a kiss.

It wasn’t a soft and gentle kiss. It was clumsy, frantic, and full of emotion and confusion. It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be, because it was with him.

You returned the kiss as soon as your brain allowed itself to switch back on and be present in the moment. Your arms wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him to you as though you were worried he would change his mind and back away again.

It was over all too soon for your liking, the two of you having no choice but to pull away to gasp in the air again. Xavier’s head ducked down, and he nestled his face into your neck. His breath tickled you as he spoke.

“It scares me how truthful it was,” He admitted, planting a small kiss on your collarbone. “I think I’ve known it for a while, but I didn’t want to risk you not feeling the same way.” He pulled away very suddenly to look at your face again. “Wait, you do feel the same way, right?”

You answered him this time by initiating the kiss yourself. This one was slower, the raw emotions you had both been feeling now having settled as a pleasant buzz in the air as the reality of the situation became clear.

You were two idiot best friends who had been in love with one another for longer than either of you could fathom.

You had always known you’d spend the future together, but now, you could spend your future together.

A/N - so I set out to write what I assumed would be a 2k-ish one-shot... then I think I blacked out and woke up foaming at the mouth 6k words later... if there are any accidental pov/tense changes, please let me know! I wrote this in third person, then decided I wanted it to be second person 5k words in so I went back and edited the whole thing which was a pain in the ass and I had to stop myself from rewriting it a third time in first person

feel free to suggest some more one-shots! I can't promise I'll get to them all, but watching Wednesday has filled me with inspiration and motivation to write! *cough cough* I'd be a sucker for a bianca x reader request *cough cough*

and lemme know if you'd like to be added to a taglist for future wednesday one shots <3

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #wednesday #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe oneshot #wednesday oneshot #xavier thorpe x you #xavier x you #xavier x y #xavier thorpe x y/n

[an-idyllic-novelist]

rimuru tempest with fem!tanjiro!reader headcanons

Hey guys, welcome to another collaboration with @deathmetalunicorn1, though the credit on the concept of the pairing and these headcanons go to my dear friend. I really hope you will enjoy what we have written. If you'd like to see more content like this, or an extended version of these headcanons, please let us know!

So with that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy! :)

Although Rimuru Tempest  knows his significant other and her little sister are strong, he will not stop worrying about Tanjiro!reader’s wellbeing, especially when she and Nezuko  leave Tempest on a mission, and he is unable to join them for whatever reason. His anxiety will increase tenfold when his relationship with the former Demon Slayer evolved from being friends who just happened to stumble upon each other’s paths as soon as he left Veldor’s cave to being lovers. 

It will be very hard for the demon lord to sleep for the first few nights when he is so used to curling up next to Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko, the latter sprawled out and almost always in her toddler form. However, when she does return, Tanjiro!reader will always bring back a souvenir from wherever she traveled to, normally a tasty treat or a cute little knick-knack she saw at a market. 

[To ease his lord’s worries, Diablo will mobilize a few of the Black Numbers to keep a discreet eye on the Kamado siblings, personally delivering periodical reports on their whereabouts to Rimuru when it was an appropriate time between meetings and inspections around the capital. After all, an excellent butler must be able to anticipate his lord’s every need and alleviate his concerns so that he may continue to focus on his duties in the land. If something does happen, Diablo will act immediately and make sure Tanjiro!reader and Nezuko return to Tempest safely.]

Tanjiro!reader unwinds from her journey with a big hug from Rimuru in both his slime and human form. Rimuru would receive affection from Nezuko if she isn’t sleeping in her box in the form of bone crushing hugs or his hair being ruffled by a clawed hand. If Rimuru hadn’t eaten, she would whip a simple home-cooked meal that is either a traditional recipe from the Kamado household, or one that Mitsuri, the Love Hashira, had taught her when they were alive back in her old world. 

Rimuru will definitely join in and help, even all she’ll allow him to do in the kitchen is wash the dishes. 

After he had been reincarnated in this world, he took the Japanese cuisine he had eaten for granted, even the microwaveable ramen noodle cups he’d heat up in the company break room when he had to work late at the office. Back then, Misaki Satoru didn’t care much about his health so much as worried about forever remaining a virgin because he couldn’t score a date with a cute girl. 

He honestly couldn’t have anything resembling his homeland’s cooking until his country was developed further, including the dwarves’ metal-working and the orcs’ infamous work ethic. He couldn’t remember how many times he had told Geld and the others to rest even when they insisted that they kept working. Now, he could share a meal and enjoy a hot bath with someone he loves very dearly.

Nezuko is, of course, welcomed to join them in the bath since she loves swimming around the large hot spring he had built in the back of his home. When she joined them, Rimuru reverted to being a slime to protect Nezuko’s innocence.  If he’s alone with Tanjiro!reader, he’ll either be a slime or his human form, depending on his mood. 

Speaking of which, Nezuko is the little sister everyone in Tempest adores and will be fiercely protected. Rimuru is her favorite person, but when Milim decides to stop by for a visit, she is Nezuko’s new favorite, no matter how much he bribes her with newest confections that were created or toys. But between these two….Nezuko will always pick Tanjiro!reader, if she’s an option. 

Rimuru’s love language includes quality time, words of affirmation, and gift-giving. But what he enjoys the most is having afternoon tea on the porch, him sitting in her lap as a slime and munching on sticks of mitarashi dango or different flavored onigiri.  

If anything happened to either Tanjiro!reader or Nezuko because an enemy nation was jealous of Tempest’s flourishing economy and thought it would be a brilliant idea to hold them hostage or try to hurt them….they had better be prepared to have another kingdom falling into ruins. 

Remember what happened to Falmuth?

Taglist

@sunnyblackbird

@abelheilonwife

@nunezs-stuff

#an idyllic novelist #x reader headcanons #fem!reader #tanjiro!reader #kny x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #rimuru tempest x reader #tensei shitara slime datta ken #that time i got reincarnated as a slime x reader #rimuru x reader #rimuru tempest #tensei shitara slime datta ken x reader

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 3

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.7k Words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes

Part 2, 4

The next day is what you can only describe as controlled chaos. The office is a whirlwind of papers, people and pieces of presentation sent to and fro across the building. Maureen in marketing needs approval from Mark in finance who’s busy balancing the budget for this year and the spreadsheets from last year. Sharon has been on the phone for Three. Whole. Hours. trying to make sure the prototypes will be ready before noon tomorrow.

Tom called in sick and Mrs. Magna told Nancy to tell him that if he doesn’t show up today to never show up again. Period. That was ensued by a thirty minute yelling match between Nancy and Tom that ended when you gently took the phone from Nancy’s white-knuckle grip and told Tom if he didn’t come in you’d personally shove your foot up his ass.

Tom was in the office fifteen minutes later, quarantined in the conference room with his laptop, a growing mountain of crumbled Kleenex and very, very, grumpy. The day dragged on and on and while people who had finished with their portion of the project headed home for the day you stayed, even after your piece of the pie was secure, because at the end of it all you knew it fell to Nancy to review and review and review the final product for any mistakes and you weren’t about to let her do it alone.

As you worked, you caught up with each other, not having time to really talk since the white elephant party over a week ago. “So how was break?” You asked as you filed away two early projection models in their appropriate folders. She sat cross legged in front of you, stapling documents together. “It was nice, mom came this year, and I thought it would be a lot more barbaric but it actually was very civil. I'm proud of them for working out their differences. The way it went down last year I was still cleaning fruit cake off my ceiling a month later, remember?”

You giggled together because you did remember. That was Nancy’s Christmas reunion debacle from the previous year. You hadn’t been there but you did drop by to help her clean up and have a little wine. A bottle and a half in you both were too drunk and giggly to climb the ladder and scrap the candied fruit and cake from the ceiling.

“What about you? Did you go see your parents?” You smiled and answered. “Yeah they’re doing good, they said to tell you hello by the way. My brother too.” And the side eye she gave you was hilarious and aggravated all in one. “What? He still asks about you.” She rolled her eyes and restacked the papers in her hands. “Well he can stop.” You laughed as she shook her head. “He’s still got a crush on me after all this time.”

“Yes! He’s obsessed! I don’t know why you won’t go for him, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone anyways.” She scoffed at you. “I am not dating your brother. Not after what he did.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Nance, you can’t still be on that.” She looked offended. “After we both nearly drowned at the lake that summer. You remember, he practically pulled me under!”

You laughed remembering. “He was trying to save you!” She laughed with you and pushed on your arm. “Yeah well he sucked at it. We both nearly died.” You both were in fits of giggles at this point, papers nearly forgotten in the glow of your memories. “Besides, how do you know I’m not seeing anyone?”

Your eyebrows raised at this. “Ohhh, something to confess?” She looked up from her work, eyes sparkling. “You know the guy that moved in across the hall?” You did. You both had run into him one day coming back to her place for a drink after a Saturday outing together. “You mean Mr. Dark Eyes, the one who came over and fixed your window for you?”

She practically beamed. “That’s the one. He asked me out for drinks tomorrow night.” You waggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that. He’s just being nice.” It was your turn to give her an accusatory look. “It’s absolutely like that Nancy! He’s into you. I can see it! I think you should go for it, I’m glad for you, it’s time you got a little action.”

She picked up the stack she’d finished stapling and set it to the side, beginning another. “You and I both. I mean it’s not like you’ve been seeing anyone either.” You paused, thinking of Johnny. You wouldn’t call it seeing someone, but there was something between the two of you, it was momentary, your lapse in response but enough for her to notice and immediately catch on.

“Oh my god, wait. You have been seeing someone haven’t you?” You immediately refuse. “No.” “Bullshit.” “Seriously! It’s nothing.” And she wouldn’t stop until she’d pried it out of you so you began recounting your encounter at the gym, leaving nothing out.

“You’re fucking with me.” You shake your head. “No, I’m serious. Just like I told you.” She put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. “He legit did all that?” You nodded and she smiled. “I think you should go for it.” Your jaw dropped. “You’re serious?” She nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s totally into you. All that weird shit just means he’s obsessed. Is he hot?”

You immediately nodded. “Oh yeah, he’s strong and tan. He’s got this pretty white smile and dark hair. I knew he was a personal trainer the minute I saw him.” She hummed approval. “Definitely go for it.” You laughed nervously. “I don’t know, we'll see where it goes.”

The sun had long descended past the horizon, but you had it done. Two hundred and fifteen pages of statistics and sales projections that concluded the project. You both cleaned up the papers and put everything away. She turned to you when the elevator had stopped at the ground floor and the cold night air chilled you as the doors opened. “Wanna go out for a drink, I know I sure could use one.”

You shook your head. “I’m beat, I’m going home, eating and sliding into bed.” She nodded in understanding. “Don’t forget your homework.” She winked at you mischievously and giggled as you let out a frustrated groan. “I’m thinking about skipping it.” She shook her head. “Better not, with what you’ve told me so far it seems like there’d be consequences.” And she was right, who knew what kind of thing he’d cook up if you slacked out on it. You said your goodbyes and headed home.

You find yourself in front of your door, mentally exhausted. You slide the key in the lock and feel it give as you push the door open and walk into the cool interior of your home. Flipping the lights on you drop your purse and jacket on the couch and head for the kitchen. It’s been a long day and you hadn’t even had a chance to go grocery shopping this week but you’re pretty sure you at least had a couple of eggs left in the fridge.

If all you could manage was a few scrambled eggs before you did your homework and fell into bed then so be it. You’d eat better tomorrow. You open the door on the fridge and are immediately taken aback by what you see. It’s fully stocked. There’s a whole pack of water bottles on the bottom shelf of your fridge. The chiller drawer is packed with spinach, sweet peppers, broccoli and carrots. There’s deli meat and boneless skinless chicken breasts, a few types of cheese and a new gallon of milk. Individual packs of yogurt and gatorades in all different flavors.

You open the door on your freezer to find a few more frozen packs of chicken breasts, pounds of lean hamburger meat and sausage. Rushing to the cabinets you pull them open and find low carb tortilla wraps and bread, granola bars and some kind of chips called “Veggie Straws” that you’ve always seen on the shelf but never tried.

As you turn around you finally notice the bowl of fruit on your counter. How could you have overlooked it walking in? Bananas and apples and oranges, all ripe and fresh. You didn’t do this. Either you were losing your mind and key moments in your life we’re missing like puzzle pieces lost or someone had been in your house.

Your eyes widen, breath hitched. They could still be in the house. You turn around and survey the space around you, the dark comforting tone had a queer eerie feeling setting in around the edges. The corners and shadows leering with the unknown. Nothing looked out of place or was missing, but what kind of a person came into a home to stock the fridge and leave without taking anything?

You checked the doors, the windows, no broken locks or pried open hinges, no immediate signs of forced entry. Your shoulders stiffened when the realization hits you, it takes your overworked mind a moment to remember but there it was. Your gym bag, you were nearly certain you had closed it but it was open when you opened your locker to change. Johnny.

You grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, flicking through your contacts and hovering over his name. You momentarily waver between calling him or the police. What were you going to say? Yes officer, my home has been broken into. Did they take anything? Well, no. The opposite really. What did they leave? Groceries. Lots of them, stocked my whole kitchen with fresh meats, veggies and fruit. Yeah, we’ll get right on catching the ever elusive grocery fairy, ma’am. Top priority, don't you worry.

You started the call and he answered on the second ring, tone light and cheery with enthusiasm. “Bonnie! How was work?” You skip the pleasantries. “Do you have something to tell me, Johnny?” And you don’t know why you expected him to take the matter seriously.

“Aye lass, I did think about ye all day, sometimes with mah cock in hand, how’d ye know?” His response momentarily scatters your thoughts to the wind but you take hold of them once more and push on. “What? No! Johnny, have you been in my house?” He laughs, actually laughs. “Oh that. Yeah, did you check the fridge?”

Your brow furrowed in frustration, of course he doesn’t see it as an intrusion instead of some kind of regular thing. “Johnny, how did you get into my house?” You sit down in a chair and what he says makes you bolt upright again. “Easy, hen. I just made a key.” You’re pacing now. “You made a key to my house! How?”

And he says it casually like he’s explaining how to tie a shoe or giving someone easy directions. “I went into yer bag, found yer keys, pressed it into a mold and had one made. Simple really.”

“You can’t do that Johnny.” He interrupts. “S’alright Bonnie, I’m yer personal trainer.” There it is again. That phrase, like it’s the simplest thing to understand in the world, normal even. He’d picked you out, told you he was going to train you, you didn’t exactly protest and now anything was fair game, including crossing every single kind of boundary you could have and making copies of the keys to your home so he can come and go as he pleases.

“Besides, yer fridge was empty. What were ye gonna have fer dinner?”

“None of your business. And what if I don’t know how to cook? Did you think about that Johnny?” And this seems to be the first real thing to give him pause. “Yer right, lass. I didn’t even think about that. I’m about five minutes away, I’ll be right over.” Your eyes widen in panic. “No Johnny! Don’t come over!”

“S’alright lass, it’s really no trouble. I’ll be right there.” The last thing you needed was him showing up at the door. “No! Johnny I’m serious, don’t.”

He’s quiet for a moment and it feels long, you almost expect a knock at the door, even though he couldn’t possibly be there that fast, unless of course he was lying about being five minutes away and was actually right outside the whole time, or even in the house still.

“Alright. I won’t come over on one condition.” You grab for it, ready to agree to anything that will keep him from showing up. “Yes, anything.”

“I want ye tae FaceTime me while ye do yer homework.” And you’re almost relieved with the simplicity of it, but there was an underlying unease that you couldn’t shake, what was he up to? You answer slowly when you can’t come up with a good reason to say no. “Ok, I’ll call you back.”

But before you can hang up he interjects. “No. Don’t hang up, talk to me.”

“Talk to you? About what Johnny?” You start to look around the kitchen for what you’re gonna have, if he’s making you talk to him the whole way through it then it’s better to get started now. “For starters, How yer day was.”

It starts slow, your relinquishing of the accounts of the day, but as time went on and you kept talking it all just came to the surface. The stress of the day, the brutal meticulousness of it, and he made it so easy, he was so attentive, listening and responding, asking questions and letting you vent it. He even laughed so hard when you told him about threatening Tom that you couldn’t help but laugh with him, bent over in front of the stove as you let the stress bleed out of you.

It felt good, right even, like something you'd been missing out on, a key component you hadn't realized you’d been without for so long. And you found a peculiar twinge of adoration for him in the bottom of your heart, like tea leaves spelling out your heart's true desires, whether you like what you read in them or not, there they were.

You sat down to eat and he told you about his day as you ate. It was much more appetizing than a plate of scrambled eggs, you had to admit. You nearly choke on a cherry tomato when he tells you he missed you. “It’s only been a day since you last saw me Johnny, you can’t miss me.” And is there longing in his voice, or just your tired mind playing tricks again? “Aye, but I did.”

There’s a momentary pause, a space of uninterrupted silence, pregnant with things unsaid. You finally break it. “Well, I’ve got dishes and then I’ll do my homework.” What he says next makes you smile, and you’re glad he’s not able to see it. “How will I know ye’ll call me back?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’ll call you. If not, you'll be pounding at my door, won’t you?” You can hear the smile in his response. “Better believe it, lass. Call me.” And he hangs up.

You quickly finish up your dishes, change into something comfortable, just a tank top and shorts, and prop your phone up. Pressing the call button on Johnny’s name in the contact list you see the screen go black as you wait for him to pick up. Your image is reflected back at you in a little square in the top right of the screen and you use the time to adjust your hair and pull the hem of your shorts down lower to cover more of your thighs.

His face pops into frame and he’s smiling ear to ear and you ignore the eruption of goosebumps on your arms when you see it. “Hi, lass” You back away from the screen and into the open space you’ve made in your living room to do your exercises. “Hi Johnny.”

“God yer beautiful.” And you feel your cheeks heating under his compliment. “Stop it, Johnny. Let’s crack on.” You see him sit back on his bed as he responds. “Alright lass. Start.” So you do, starting with the sit ups. You don’t have him there to hold your feet so you slide them under the couch to hold you steady as you do the exercise. He talks you through it, counting for you so you can focus on just your movements, keeping track of your pauses in between sets so they’re evenly spaced and consistent.

“Good lass, now yer toe touches.” You rise and face the camera, bending down with legs straight as your fingertips brush your toes. “Good, just like that.” And each line of praise is like a shot of vodka, a shock of ambrosia to your system, intoxicating. You know he’s looking down your shirt with each rep, but it’s a thrill you find exhilarating instead of embarrassing for once. Halfway through he has you turn around so he can make sure you’re not dipping at the knees.

You do the first one and he groans, quiet but you still catch it. You call over your shoulder and ask if he’s ok and he clears his throat, voice full of audible gravel even in his one word response. “Aye.” You finish and all that’s left is your lunges and stretches. You bend your knees and step into the first lunge, one leg at a time til you reach your goal of ten.

You’re finished and you turn to face the camera, you see he’s laid down on the bed, eyes intense and holding yours even from the small screen of the phone across the room. “Stretches now, lass.” He sounds out of breath and you wonder what you’d see if he flipped the view to his back camera.

You sit on the floor, legs V’d and begin to stretch them wider and wider. You curse your decision for shorts and blame it on being tired and not thinking it through. You know the crotch of your shorts is pulling taut against your pussy, barely covering your panties as you stretch further and further. You start to strain, little puffs of breath and groans escaping your lips as you widen your stretch. “Hold it, bonnie.” And you do just as he asks, holding it against the potent pain accumulating in your calves and inner thighs. “Just a little more, doing so good fer me.”

You hold it for another five seconds and he finally lets you release. You’re breathing heavily as you draw your legs back together and if you aren’t mistaken you think you can hear his labored breathing as well. “Johnny.” His voice is thick with strain. “Aye, lass.”

“What are you doing?” His smirk is devastatingly handsome as he speaks. “Nothing yet, lass.” You feel emboldened and press your luck, eyes connected with his as you command him. “Flip your camera Johnny.” His eyes hold yours raptly for a few seconds before he does as you ask and the shot flips to his chest and legs lying on his bed. He’s got a dark blue comforter and you can see in the frame a pull up bar and a few weights on a rack in the corner, just what you’d expect but the first thing to catch your eye is the raging bulge in his gray sweats and your breath hitches as his hand comes into view, wrapping around the base of the stretched fabric and adjusts it to better accommodate his length.

“See what ye do tae me, hen?” You do see, you can’t look away as his hand squeezes himself through the cloth cage. Your mind, overworked and fried is trying to get you to say something, anything, but the only thing that will compute is his name. “Johnny.”

“Get up and sit down on the couch, lass.” His voice holds a tone of gentle authority, you could probably protest but you’re tired and trying to swim against the current of what your body wants is a task you’re not up for at the moment, so you give in and let him command you.

You sit on the couch at first, eyes still glued to where he’s fisting his cock through his clothes. “Sit back, hen and spread your legs.” You do sit back but you don’t spread your legs, at first. “Come on, bonnie. Jus’ like we practiced.” So you do, not as wide as you would when stretching but enough to give him a view and the tingles of anticipation thrumming through you has you on edge, like you’re standing before a cliff and about to jump, there’s no going back from this.

He groans and you watch with keen eyes as he pulls his sweats down until he’s just in his boxers, the same dark blue shade as his bed spread. “Ye wanna see more, lass?” He’s tempting you and it’s working, you do wanna see more but it’ll come at a price. “Yes.” He wraps a fist around his cock and you shift uncomfortably as your panties dampen. “Take yer shorts off.”

You sit up and tug your shorts down your legs, feeling dirty but heightened as you do, like you’re liberating something inside yourself even you don’t quite understand. He hisses air through his teeth as he spots the wet patch quickly growing and soaking the gusset of your panties.

He pulls his boxers down and his cock springs up into view, finally free and it makes you bite your lip. He’s thick and has length to boot, a good seven inches of it guessing by the comparison of his hand up against it.

There’s a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair spreading out from the base and you can’t help but moan as he wraps his hand around it and begins to tug lazily. His voice is husky and deep when he speaks.

“So pretty, hen. Are you that wet all fer me?” And you’re beyond words so you just nod, eyes glued to the way he tugs on himself. He curses under his breath and your pussy aches from the lack of stimulation. You snake a hand down your chest, descending toward the pain, itching to relieve the tension. “That’s it, lass. Let me see ye touch yerself fer me.”

So you do, just overtop of the fabric, a roll of your fingertips overtop your clit, enough to make your head tip back and moan blissfully. “Good girl.” You look back up to see him working his shaft in earnest, firm grip and steady movements. You feel emboldened by his reactions and lean forward again to rid yourself of the cloth barrier. He stops and watches as your pussy comes into view for the first time.

“Steamin’ Jesus. Fucking gorgeous.” He resumes his movements as your fingers settle over top your bare clit and you start to rub tight little circles over it, just how you like. “Show me Bonnie, show me just how you like it.” The sexual tension between the two of you, the stress of the day all come to a head and you reach down to spread your wetness up and around your clit, moaning low and sultry as he watches you play with yourself.

You reach your other hand up and squeeze one of your breasts through your top and look back up into the screen. Watching him pick up the pace, making fast even strokes over the tip of his cock with each movement. The motion of his hands, the way his tip disappears into his fist and reappears with each pass is mesmerizing. You can feel the beginnings of an orgasm building and it just drives you on as you think about coming in front of him for the first time.

Your fingers pick up speed and your moans rise in pitch as he talks you through it. “Mmm such a bonnie little pussy. I wanna see ye come for me lass. Can ye do that fer me? Come nice and hard fer me?” You suck in a deep breath as you work your body into a frenzy, pinching a nipple between your fingers as you feel yourself nearing the edge.

You look up to see him vigorously stroking his cock. His breathing is heavy and loud through the speakers and you wonder if he’ll be loud when he comes. You’re close and even though he’s not even in the same room as you he can tell, spurring you on. “That’s it hen. Just like that. Do it. Cum fer me.”

It’s all it takes to send you spiraling. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you fall over the edge and succumb to the pleasure. You let out a long drawn out moan as you do, body tensing as you pant and writhe on the couch in full view.

You look up when he calls your name, watch as his strokes quicken and shorten and then all at once he’s coming undone, legs tensing and white hot cum shooting from the tip of his hard cock. It arcs through the air before landing in spattered lines across his thighs. The guttural yell that falls from his lips as he does is loud, just as you’d expected and you wish you could feel it, the rumble of his chest when it sounds.

You’re both breathing heavily and coming down when it hits you, the post nut clarity. You just had very raw, hardcore phone sex with a man who made a copy of the keys to your home, came over without you knowing while you were at work and invaded your personal space.

You’re ashamed and a little sickened by what you’ve just done. Quickly closing yourself off from view you snatch your panties and shorts from the ground and redress. “Fuck, lass. That was fucking amazing.” You’re already working on damage control in your mind, blocking out the experience, no matter how much you enjoyed it, it was wrong.

“No Johnny. It wasn’t.” You can see him switch the camera around and he’s way more relaxed now, smile a mile wide on his face. “Aye, it was. Cannae wait tae see ye, tomorrow.”

You don’t even know if you’ll show up now, how could you after that? It was just a mistake you told yourself, a tired slip up, absolutely a one time thing. You close your eyes and when you open them he’s looking at you and you swear you can his adoration for you swimming in them. “Go to sleep, lass. I wanna see ye tomorrow at 4:30.”

You say nothing and hang up. It’s very late before you fall asleep that night, debating whether or not the consequences of not showing up tomorrow are something you can afford to risk. If you don’t show up he could just pop into your house at any time. It’d be better to just show up and act like nothing happened, that was the key, just brush it under the rug and hope he’ll do the same.

You’re nervous about it all day at work, and you know Nancy knows something is wrong but you insist everything’s ok. You’re too ashamed to tell her about any of it and she relents and leaves you alone but she knows you’re lying. When four o’clock hits you’re out the door, won’t be able to stop this frenzied state of mind until you can clear things up with him and make things go back to normal.

The next day when you walk in the door and sign in he meets you at the desk and before you even have a chance to say anything he’s on you, lips crashing into yours in a passionate and very explicit kiss right in the lobby of the building surrounded by patrons and gawking onlookers.

He doesn’t even give you room to breathe let alone get a word in as his body presses up against yours and he grabs ahold of the back of your neck to keep you locked against him. When he pulls away you’re shell shocked and silent. As he pulls you against him and walks you further into the building you know things have taken an irrevocable turn.

#cod x reader #soap x reader #dark!johnny #dubcon #dark fic #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod #cod soap #twdubcon

[suguru-getos]

Thoughts on Aizawa? The skrunkly eraser man?

Ahahaha oh my god Aizawa huh? I wanna write something about him now

Aizawa hcs (nsfw/sfw):

Quiet, thoughtful, introverted and serene man. He carries all the characteristics of being perfect in his own way. Gives his work and the people close to him an assertive prioritiy and also shows that. For his s/o he would definitely do the same. They come above his work sometimes because that’s who he is. Hardwired to be a genuine caregiver.

He doesn’t put much thought into dressing up, but does take care of himself physically. Regular workouts and trainings, helping his students train with him. Appearance wise I think he couldn’t care less. However that doesn’t mean he does not understand the significance of dressing appropriately at a given situation. He would put a lot of effort when there are planned outings, dates, press conferences. It’s his regular attire that he prefers not to mull over into much.

He loves coffee of course, as an underground hero he doesn’t have much energy to cope up throughout his day except with a stronf espresso. He would be completely hypocritical and chid his s/o about not drinking much coffee and how it overstimulates your already tired brain & makes it even more tired. “It will have high stress hormones, Cortisol. Then you’d be unable to rest. It will give you anxiety.” Yes sure Aizawa sensei, sure -_-

He loves bringing his partner flowers, he is a hardcore gentleman and wants to behave that way. Even when there’s the smallest of occaisions, you’d have huge bouquets for yourself. Your period? You had a good day? Anything and everything.

Is possessive in a caring way, “Oh you’re going out, great! Have fun.” Would text you every two hours about it though ;-;

He can’t cook for shit but is happy to do that when required and would methodically follow the recipie and everything. He just prefers in acts of service as his love language and is very keen to show it.

Uses $$ like a sugar daddy to spoil you. <3

He can use his words to comfort you during bad times and he is pretty good at it, hugging you, craddling you close to his chest and kissing you. Telling you how proud he truly is of you. This man is the standard, mkay?

Nsfw hcs 😏:

Hardcore pleasure dom, he gives a fuck only about your pleasure which inturn, gets him hard. He loves having you by the lap and cockwarming you though, like to see you struggle and try to buck your hips against him.

Funishments is where it’s at. He loves to use his capture weapon to tie you up with your legs spread apart, eat your cunt for hours if needed (of course giving you enough breaks) but it’s his hobby to make you squirm and whine & cry.

Aftercare king and would soothingly rub any areas that are bruised, would draw out a bath for you, order your favorite snacks, tell you how much you are loved. Have you on his lap while he kisses your forehead, plays with your hair. All the cutesy stuff UnU

His favorite position is to bench press you because he just wants to see your face when his cock destroys your cunt with his railing thrusts.

Nipple play king and has once made you cum just from playing/toying with your titties.

Aizawa also loves to edge you, he just loves to be in control and what better than controlling the very desire and need of your body? Your orgasm? He’d stop, or have you asking/begging for permission as he pounds your sweet pussy.

#aizawa shouta #aizawa imagines #aizawa x reader #aizawa smut #Aizawa hcs #aizawa thirst #bnha hcs #bnha thirst #mha hcs #mha thirst #bnha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shouta aizawa #shouta aizawa x reader

[linkemon]

Period headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Ruggie Bucchi

• Ruggie wouldn't be surprised by the period in the first place. If there are guys for whom this is a taboo topic, he wouldn't be one of them. He saw so many things on the streets as a child that neither pain nor blood scares him. He would also have no problem talking about it loudly. It's just a normal thing.

• He would definitely be a master of home remedies during your period. His years of odd jobs and all kinds of life knowledge would be invaluable in this matter. He would brew you homemade teas to help with the pain. All herbs are collected and dried by hand by him.

• While he is invaluable when it comes to home-made medicines, when you feel like snacking, he can be a miser. Cookies, chocolates, chips at Sam's? He's always short of money. But don't worry, if you really want some, he will somehow get money from Leona. Will you know about it? Not necessarily...

• Ruggie tolerates mood swings very well. Not only did he undergo training while working for Leona but he also got used to the fact that a woman is right, even when she isn't. In Savanaclaw, they lead in most relationships and thus he will tolerate any moodiness you may have.

Ortho Shroud

•A prefect in need? Ortho noticed it first! Before he downloaded the exact module, he thought you were seriously ill. He was very concerned about your health. Only when he downloaded the appropriate data did he understand what was going on.

• You can be sure that his information will be verified and supported by scientific evidence. He and Idia have access to data that an ordinary mortal will probably never even see. Therefore, expect a slightly medical approach to the topic.

• You will be scanned frequently unless you specifically do not want it. But let's be honest, these won't be just ordinary scans. You will get full information about what hurts you, where exactly and what is the best way to deal with it, so it sounds like a good deal.

• Ortho believes you should get plenty of rest. A warm water bottle, a blanket and off to bed! He will ask Grim to stay with you and not make a fuss, which surprisingly the cat will do (you don't know that there is a promise about can of tuna behind it).

• He will get you some medicines from the school nurse if you don't feel up to going to get them. Same with snacks and pads or tampons. Where does the money come from? He belongs to the Styx, one word and Crowley will generously create a new fund for your needs, which you won't find out about until long after the fact.

• You will receive a personalized cycle tracking app. Idia was allegedly bored. In reality, however, his hair was red the entire time he was creating it and he explained to his brother that he was only doing it at his request.

Jade Leech

• Menstruation is not a foreign concept to him. The point is more that Jade, like his brother, knows it from theory. Everything looks different under water and he never had to face this problem with his mother, for example. But there's no need to worry. Years in business have accustomed him to learning new things quickly.

• If you like specific foods, whether before or during your period, Jade's has you covered. Mostro Lounge has a wide range of products and if you want something specific, he will simply cook it for you. It's best if it contains mushrooms but if you don't want them, it's fine...

• As with Ortho, there is no problem with money. He is a good businessman. What was the point of doing any business with Azul if he didn't make money?

He knows your dorm doesn't have enough money. He often jokes with a serious face that you will work it off later but in the end it never happens. In the worst case scenario, he will ask for a kiss on the cheek in exchange for help.

• You can be sure that at the first opportunity he will do some off-campus mega business related to hygiene products. There aren't many people interested in the NRC but outside? He can take over the world and give you free samples. He will ask you for advice and opinions. Guaranteed that at the end of the process you will come up with a new formula or scents. You are happy and he is rich. Two in one.

• He is not open enough to talk about period in front of others, like Ruggie. He won't shy away from it but he just has a little bit more tact and won't talk about it until the conversation clearly stirs that way.

#ruggie bucci x reader #ortho shroud #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #period #black chariot #idia shroud #dire crowley

[gurugirl]

how is mean king harry coming along bestie? x

I'm chipping away at it!! I'll be honest... I'm trying to keep the story period appropriate (I'm imagining this being like 1800s??) but it's difficult - the language, the common items, plus all the stuff that goes into what royalty deals with... So it might take me some time because I've been researching things for it, but I've got a chunk of it written up!

Here's a tiny bit of what I have (unedited totally so please bear with me) to get a feel for what the story is going to look like (at least the first part). This takes place before he meets Y/n.

. . .

“Your Majesty, we apologize for the intrusion, but it is time to get to the order of official business.”

“You wouldn’t have to apologize if you weren’t intruding, now would you?” Harry’s groggy voice spoke as he remained sprawled on his back in his warm velvet bed with three naked women lying draped over his limbs still fast asleep and unaware of the two men standing at the King’s chambers door.

“May it please Your Majesty if we return in one half-hours’ time? Our Lord Mayer and the Orders of Council are awaiting you in the Great Hall. This is a very important meeting, Sir.”

Harry knew he had a meeting set up. He knew it was important to keep it and he understood the levity of it all. But he couldn’t resist when he took three lovely young things with him to his chambers and they each let him do as he pleased. He’d just been crowned King for Christ’s sake! He deserved to sew his wild oats before things got heavy and real and it was time to get down to the nitty gritty of his new stifling responsibilities.

“I will find myself in the Great Hall in one half-hours’ time. No need to return.”

“Yes, Sir. And what should we tell our Lord Mayer of your tardiness?”

“Fuck’s sake! I don’t care! Tell them I’ve got my privy member sallying forth and I’m in the sack with three concubines if you like! Our Lord Mayer can wait a half hour. Give him a thumb of brandy. Tha’ should keep him with a smile.”

It was this very attitude that had the folk of Thornekeep nervous. Harry’s proclivity for saying what he pleased with little regard for the people he was saying it to.

#ask #mean king!harry #king!harry #royal!au #harry styles x reader

[maniculum]

Do you have any books or sources for learning Olde English? I want to write a medieval-based story but I don't know how to write the characters speak the language.

That depends -- when you say "Olde English" do you mean Old English, like pre-1066 English? That's pretty far from modern English and it's unlikely that readers will be able to understand it easily. If that's what you're looking for, the texts I was taught with are:

Bright's Anglo-Saxon Reader

Quirk's Old English Grammar

Sweet's Anglo-Saxon Reader

They're all from a while back -- and, as you can see, some use the now-deprecated term "Anglo-Saxon" -- so you can find older editions free in the public domain. More recent revised editions can generally be found in cheap paperback form. I believe there are some more modern textbooks that are quite good, but I haven't looked at them, and I don't know how affordable they are.

I have also consulted with Zoe (@meanderingmedievalist) on this, and she recommends Baker's Introduction to Old English, as well as the related resource Old English Aerobics:

The reason there are textbooks for this, though, is because you genuinely have to treat it as a foreign language. It's very different from modern English. As a sample, here's the beginning of Beowulf:

Hwæt! We Gardena in geardagum þeodcyninga þrym gefrunon hu ða æþelingas      ellen fremedon. Oft Scyld Scefing      sceaþena þreatum monegum maegþum      meodosetla ofteah egsode eorle syððan aerest wearð feasceaft funden he þæs frofre gebad weox under wolcnum weorðmyndum þah oð þæt him aeghwylc þara ymbsittendra ofer hronrade      hyran scolde, gomban gyldan      þæt wæs god cyning.

So if you put a lot of it into a story for a modern audience, most of them will be a bit lost.

If when you say "Olde English" you mean "English that sounds archaic and medieval, but is comprehensible to a modern audience", you're probably looking for Middle English.

I don't have any direct references for learning the language there, as I was mostly taught through immersion (i.e., here's a Middle English text, read and translate it, now do another until you get a feel for it), but Zoe recommends Fulk's Introduction to Middle English, so that's a good bet if you don't want to go through that process.

However, I do think the "just read the texts" method also works fine -- especially since, if you're writing a medieval story, you'll want to read some of the literature anyway for inspiration. Here's what you can do to use that method outside of a classroom setting:

Step One: Get a Middle English text with a facing-page translation. Armitage's edition of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight is good for this. Read the Middle English text, referring to the Modern English translation on the facing page whenever you don't understand it. Do this with a pencil in hand, so you can annotate the text with definitions, translations, and notes about how the sentences work.

Step Two: Get a Middle English text for which modern translations exist. Don't get the modern translation. The Canterbury Tales works for this: it's a classic and you should be able to pick up a copy anywhere. The version on my shelves is Baugh's Chaucer's Major Poetry -- which is heavily footnoted with definitions, potentially saving some time with the dictionary -- but it doesn't really matter as long as it's in the original. Read it. Every time you don't know a word, look it up in the Middle English Dictionary (available free online, in searchable form, here) and write it down. Again, best to annotate directly on the page with a pencil. Trust me, it helps to do it that way. Once you're done, get a modern translation and check your work.

At this point, you'll probably have picked up enough of the language that you should be able to write in it to some degree, though you'll want to continue making reference to the Middle English Dictionary to make sure you're employing period-appropriate usage and spelling. If you have access to the Oxford English Dictionary (if you're at a university, you almost certainly do, otherwise check with your local library), use that to check when the words you're using originated -- the OED has that listed, and that'll keep you from accidentally dropping an 18th-century term into medieval dialogue. You can also use their Historical Thesaurus to find period-appropriate equivalents for terminology.

Optional Step Three: Keep reading more Middle English literature with the dictionary open, annotating as you go, to get additional practice. If you can get through Le Morte Darthur in the original (get the P.J.C. Field edition), I think you'll be set in terms of "writing convincing medieval prose". Not because it's particularly difficult -- it's late medieval, so the language is actually more modern than either of the texts mentioned in steps one and two -- but just because it's long, so you'll get a lot of practice working through it. As a bonus, reading Malory will familiarize you with lots of good knightly vocabulary in case that's the kind of story you want to write.

Optional Step Four: Read scholarly articles on Middle English language and literature to get a more in-depth understanding. Again, check with your local library, or if you're at a university, a university library will have a vast amount of resources on this subject you can browse through.

#ask #old english #middle english