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romaritimeharbor · 4 months

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I'LL SEE YOU WHEN I FALL ASLEEP. — The Tokito family's oldest child returns home.

— trigger & content warnings. contains spoilers for the infinity castle arc & takes place around/after the end of the manga, major character death, grief, self-hatred, survivor's guilt, etc.

— pairings & notes. hurt/comfort. kamado tanjiro, kamado nezuko & reader, but the fic is still muichiro-centric. reader is 16 and is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). reader was a demon slayer. reader is muichiro and yuichiro's older sibling. 3.1k words.

— author's thoughts. suffer, manga readers :) anyways why are there so few platonic fics about mui and yui??? they are literally my sons. please. begging the kny community to write more platonic content about them sobs weeps cries /lh

Morning sunlight kisses their skin tenderly, caressing their face with its reassuring touch, but it does nothing to soothe the dull ache in their chest.

In the absence of all else, that dull ache perpetually remains—a constant, ringing reminder of their utter failures as a person. Of their failures as their family's oldest child. When they feel nothing, when all of their tears have run dry and left them with vacant emptiness, that dull ache remains still. When the tears fall endlessly, ever continuing regardless of how many times they try to dry their face, it remains still.

Inconsolable, that is what they were. Wholly and truly inconsolable.

'It wasn't your fault,' Tanjiro would insist over and over, because he knows not what other words he can say to them, because he knows what it is like. What else could he possibly say to ease their grief? He hasn't the slightest idea, because really... there is nothing. Nothing to say, nothing to do, other than sit beside them and let the grief come and go as it does—it is a nonlinear thing, grief. Tanjiro knows the process all too well. It will get better and then worse, before repeating the cycle again and again. He knows there is nothing he can do other than hold their hand throughout it all. There is no getting rid of the pain before it heals on its own time, so the words he chooses are 'You will feel okay one day.'

'They wouldn't want you to linger on it,' Nezuko would say, but she also knew not what to tell them. She, much like her older brother, is not unfamiliar with the guilt they felt for simply being alive. She knows that feeling all too well. She does not recall much from her time as a demon—she has explained that those memories are more like a distant dream, something she cannot quite touch and can only catch brief glimpses of, rather than actual memories she can recall at will. Despite that, she knows it hurt when she discovered herself to be the only one who survived that day. It still hurts. Less, but it does. She knows not what to say to them, but she knows that time heals, so the words she chooses are 'You will feel okay one day.'

Dew clings to the grass and leaves. The dirt squishes beneath their steps. A thin fog (a mist, they dare think, but the fleeting thought makes their stomach drop, so they do their best to rid their mind of it) has settled just above ground level, and they absently wonder if it rained the night before; it must have. They hadn't noticed.

It would be borderline impossible to, with the night they had. Being perceptive of and attentive to minute details such as whether or not it had rained a few hours prior was not in the forefront of their dazed mind at the moment.

(They did not sleep well, thoughts too preoccupied with the memories of what once was, of what could have still been.

...But the reality they dreamed of was not theirs, because they failed. They curse the world for plaguing them with such dreams—it was as if they were forced to peek into another universe, where they are happier now, helpless to snap their gaze away until whatever being tormenting them decided they had suffered enough. A punishment, that's what it was. A vile, awful, enraging punishment. Haven't they suffered enough?

Though, maybe they should at least be happy for them in that alternate universe. At least they're happy somewhere.

The thought is both comforting and devastating. Maybe if they hadn't been such a useless older sibling, they would be that joyful, too.)

The trek up the mountain was not nearly long enough; they hardly had any time at all to gather their thoughts, to swallow back the growing lump in their throat, before a vacant home entered their vision. It has been vacant for quite some time now, but the sting of what happened there almost three years ago feels exceptionally fresh, knowing that the twin who survived that event was also long gone now. The slightly chilly breeze stirs around them, swirling a few green and brown leaves that their trees had begun to shed. It welcomes them home, brushing across their skin and causing goosebumps to raise, beckoning them closer.

Fall will arrive soon.

...It has been some time since the nights have become safer to travel through. For the first time in thousands of years, demons were not a concern; the concerns now were more mundane. Animals, other humans, tripping over a tree root hidden by the darkness and getting wounded... yes, it has been quite some time since demons became a threat of the past. A few months, at the very least, but the pain of loss has grown no easier to bear. If anything, it has dug its vicious claws into their aching chest even further, threatening to tear open their ribcage and rip their bruised heart out at any moment.

It wouldn't be anything they didn't deserve, if that were to happen. It would be better that way.

...Tanjiro would tell them off for thinking like that, in the nicest and gentlest words he could manage. Their brothers would, too. Though, they're relatively certain that both of their brothers would use much harsher words. The thought might've made them laugh under another circumstance.

Even if they wanted everything to end already, they had no choice but to live, despite how much it pained them to do so. Maybe, just maybe, there will come a day in which living no longer feels like a knife to the chest.

That's something to look forward to. The day when their heart will not stutter when they see this vacant house. The day where they will not think 'It should have been me.'

Much to their surprise, there was no moss climbing up the headstones situated at the side of the house, and the grass was neatly tamed.

Someone had been here recently, then.

Sanemi? Giyuu? Perhaps Kanamori or Kotetsu. All options were equally likely; Sanemi, who they knew beyond a shadow of a doubt understood how they felt. Giyuu, who routinely paid respects to his fellow Hashira that fell in battle. Kanamori and Kotetsu, who may very well have died if not for their youngest brother's intervention back in the Swordsmith Village. They weren't quite sure who had been here (maybe they would ask around later, if for no other reason but to thank that person or those people), but... the gesture sent a wave of fresh tears to their eyes.

They hesitate, frozen in place. Shaking hands rise to their chest, clasped together in a poor attempt to put an end the trembling, and they briefly consider leaving.

It would be rude, though. To make the trek all the way up the mountain, to trick their beloved little brothers into thinking they were visiting, just to leave. They were never that cruel. Grief would not become their excuse for ignoring their brothers... or what was left of them, anyway.

Ginko sits on their shoulder. She has grown quieter than the used to be, and they know the loss has also impacted her. Still, she isn't completely placated, and she grumbles, "Are you just going to stand here like an idiot?"

"You've got working wings," they retort. "Go first, if you're so impatient."

She huffs, batting her comedically long eyelashes as she turns her little head away from them petulantly. She does not leave their shoulder. Ginko has never been nice or pleasant—she was only ever nice to Muichiro, really. Everyone else, including them, would shown get her nastier side. Spoiled princess are the words they would use to describe her, personally... but she isn't heartless. She does not dare move forward before they do.

(They know she isn't heartless. They still sometimes think about how weak and sick she became after the tragedy, and really, they were no better. She had slept by their side for weeks. Whether to keep them or herself company, they did not know, nor did they really care. She was their closest companion for the first few weeks, when they were too tired and absentminded to bother seeking anyone else out.

What an odd situation to have been in, where their best company was the bratty crow that used to deliver their brother's mission assignments. It feels unreal to think about, but it is the truth.)

Steeling their resolve, they move forward.

In front of the four grave markers, they kneel, paying no mind to the wet dirt and cool grass sticking to their clothes. If anything, the cold is welcomed. Their flesh burns hot with the weight of their grief. The cold touch feels forgiving, welcoming. Ginko stretches her wings and delicately glides over to perch on top of her former master's headstone.

Between the middle two stones sits their blade, sunk deep into the dirt, never to be touched again. Vines have begun ascending the half that still stuck out of the ground. It would be difficult to get it out, they think. Good. There it shall remain, never to be used again, a monument honoring their family and the sacrifices made to protect the world when the world never knew it was in danger in the first place.

They sit like that in silence for a moment, a chill ascending their spine as the cool morning wind kissed the crown of their head and brushed through their hair.

A moment passes. Then another.

And finally, they manage something:

"Hi," they say, voice coming out unsurprisingly meek and quiet. They're sure that if they tried to speak any louder, any clearer, their voice would crack and break. "Mama, papa, Yuichiro, Muichiro... I'm home. Again." It is at this point that their tone wavers somewhat. Their hands, now situated in their lap, immediately latch onto one another again in an attempt to steady themselves somehow. "Um, Tanjiro and Nezuko are here too. Or they will be. They just wanted to give me space first."

Muichiro would be excited to see the two, they think. He always got along particularly well with Tanjiro, and Nezuko was the kind of child who had a very kind demeanor about her, so most people grew to like her even when she was a demon.

They're hardly aware of the stinging in their eyes—it's a feeling they've grown very used to, as if it was their most natural state of being. It may as well have been. It's what they had become accustomed to feeling in the past months; it was either that, or a dreadful emptiness that made their entire body feel weightless, as if they barely existed.

It was always too little or too much.

When would they be able to come here without crying?

"I'm sorry," they choke out, folding in on themselves. Locks of their hair fall forward, forming a curtain around their face that hides their pitifully broken expression from prying eyes, and their forehead ever so slightly comes into contact with the damp dirt below. "I'm so— I'm so sorry," they weep, "I should have done more. It should— should be me buried, n— not you, not any of you—"

There is a dagger stuck inches deep in their gut. It feels as if someone has twisted it, now, because as they speak through their cries, they remember that Muichiro was never buried. His body was never recovered. It only makes the hot tears stinging their cheeks pour out with more force.

Buried in the spot the grave marked were only some of his personal belongings along with things he was known to like.

There was nothing they could have possibly done to change what happened to their parents; it was just a stroke of terrible luck for the both of them that would not have been changed regardless of what they did differently, but in a hysterical state, there is no room for nuance. Grief blends together, and they can't think clearly enough to verbally distinguish between if they meant 'It should have been me' in reference the twins or for their parents.

The answer was clear nonetheless. It hung in the air, ever present.

It should have been them instead of Yuichiro that day.

It should have been them instead of Muichiro that day.

Would either of those outcomes have changed anything?

If it had been them dying in Yuichiro's place, what would have happened that night in the Infinity Castle? Would both twins have died regardless, making their sacrifice utterly meaningless? Would only one have died, leaving the other to exist completely and entirely alone in the world? If they had died in Muichiro's place, would he be the one knelt before their grave, wishing it'd been him instead?

How selfish of them to wish it had been them instead.

How selfish of them to want their brothers to hurt like this instead of them.

...But they know that isn't what they're trying to imply. No, they would rather suffer this pain a million times over to spare their siblings the pain of having to feel it even once.

What they wanted was to give even one of the twins a chance to live past twelve or fourteen; both died far too young, meanwhile they lived on. They had turned sixteen recently (or was it a while ago? They were uncertain; the days, weeks, and months had all blended together in a blur of agony). They had no choice but to keep living, to keep aging, when it should be their little brothers instead of them living on and growing up together.

A soft hand on their shoulder causes their breath to hitch, and they adjust, peering upwards.

Tanjiro is there now.

He's crouching down, fingers softly kneading their shoulder. When he sees that they're looking at them, his half-blind gaze softens, and he smiles.

It makes their heart ache.

"It's okay," he whispers, and they are suddenly hyper-aware of the gloss over his eyes. He must have heard them. 'Don't cry for me,' they want to say, but the words don't come out, and they know he would cry for them regardless of if they told him not to. "It's going to be okay one day."

Ginko glares at him a bit. It's her least favorite rhetoric to hear—'It's okay.' She doesn't say anything, though. because he is not saying it to her, and if it comforts them even the slightest bit... well, she supposes she can tolerate it.

A stifled whine manages to shove its way past their barely parted lips. They squeeze their eyes shut, hoping to stop the tears.

It doesn't work, of course, and they can only break out into another sob.

The boy's gaze is warm, too warm—it looks too much like their father's.

Tanjiro, ever the patient and kindly person that he was, sits there with them until their tears run dry. They want to cry more. They want to curl up into a ball and let the Earth take their body so that the pain would finally cease.

They cannot, however. Their only choice is to sit up and continue forward, one day at a time.

Straightening their spine, they sit up, turning fully to Tanjiro with tired eyes.

"Do you feel better?"

"No."

He reaches out and squeezes one of their hands, face twisted in empathy. He doesn't seem to care about the dirt that has clung onto their palms. In silence, with only Tanjiro and Ginko at their side (more or less; the crow has yet to move from Muichiro's headstone, but her presence is enough for them), they sit.

It's a few moments later that they register the sound of dirt squishing under someone's steps, and they turn their head.

It's Nezuko. In her hands is a small basket.

"I'm here," she says with a kind smile. She looks like her brother when she smiles like that, they think. Her gaze is just as warm as Tanjiro's is when her eyes land on them. "I brought rice balls and paper."

...Rice balls. She brought food.

Nezuko was always adamant on pestering them about self-care in the first few weeks following Muichiro's death. 'He wouldn't want you to destroy yourself like this,' she had said at one point, a stern glare fixed on her face. 'Your brother being gone now is no excuse to neglect your health. Please eat, [Name], if not for him or for yourself, then for me. For Tanjiro. For everyone living who still loves you and worries about you.'

Her tender, worried attentiveness almost makes them want to cry again, but they have no tears left to give

On the rare occasion where they would not listen to her, she would get Sanemi, who would threaten to kick their ass if they didn't get themselves together. The threat of being beat up by the former Wind Hashira was usually enough to convince them, but they doubt that he ever would have actually done it—Shinazugawa Sanemi is many things. He is not a hypocrite when it comes to the matters of being the eldest sibling... not anymore, anyway. He was once, but he is not now. The grief he carries resonates deeply with theirs, and he was not taking particularly good care of himself, either.

They should probably visit him one of these days. He might be in need of the company, though he would never say that out loud.

"Paper?" they wonder quietly, hoarsely, head tilting to the side inquisitively. Neither sibling seems to mind the scratchiness of their voice. "

Tanjiro's face then brightens. "Want to see who can throw a paper airplane the farthest out of the three of us?"

Oh. Oh.

"...I'm going to absolutely annihilate you both at that." Something stirs in their chest. For the first time in a while, the dullness fades somewhat, and there's a thrilling edge taking its place. Their eyes shift between the Kamado siblings. "I'm the one who taught Mui how to get so good at it. You don't stand a chance. You do realize that, right?"

He grins. "We'll see!"

For the first time in months, they feel something other than void emptiness or overwhelming grief.

The wind rustles around them again, and they like to think that Muichiro is there, cheering them on from where they cannot see or hear him.

...But they do feel him, and that is enough for now.

please consider supporting me if you enjoyed! reblogs with tags, comments > likes.

#✧— aphe's creations.#demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic demon slayer x reader #platonic kimetsu no yaiba #platonic demon slayer #platonic kny #platonic x reader #muichiro x reader #platonic muichiro x reader #tanjiro x reader #platonic tanjiro x reader #nezuko x reader #platonic nezuko x reader

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spiceofvy · 8 months

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hi I sent the octopus ask! 🐙🐙🐙

(i just discovered the octopus emoji and it's adorable)

Anyway I mean octopus/sticky as very physically clingy, like arms and legs most be around object of affection at all times (bordering on cartoon logic but might as well have fun with it no?)

Like I think being a human octopus "clingy as fuck" would be sometimes adorable and intimate but also come with a lot of challenges because sometimes it's hot, things get sweaty very fast, it would be hard to escape the bed in the morning, thank fuck for seatbelt laws because a human octopus reader would be all over the drivers lap sort of thing, basically taking physical touch is a love language and dailing it to twelve you know.

Personally I really don't care for being touched these days, (though I wished people could pet me more) so I guess I wanted to see someone work with the concept of super physical contact.

Sorry if my original ask was confusing tho. I learned the use of the word "stickiness" from a an English translation of a chinese web novel (as in clingy as sin) and had visited the aquarium recently so that muddled my use of language by a lot.

TXT - Reader is super clingy

a/n: hiii! thank you for sending an ask again! i totally get your struggle, i also muddle my words a lot especially in english ._. in your original ask you said that any group is okay, so i went with txt because i thought that this prompt would fit them super well. i hope you enjoy 🐙

cws: gender neutral reader, sfw, pure fluff

Yeonjun: The one to enjoy it the least. He just needs a lot of room to move around, he really enjoys being independent. But he will always be very kind about it, holding your hand for half an hour before letting go so you can at least get your fill on physical contact. He still returns to your koala hugs every night, because if he is honest about it, he can't sleep without your hugs anymore…

Soobin: So much teasing from his members. They love joking about how their tough leader was turned into a plushie by his significant other. But he also enjoys it, especially in a more private setting. Finally he can let go and trust that someone holds him anyway. Literally.

Beomgyu: My poor boy overheats really easily, so too much physical contact would kill him especially in the summer. So he really can't stand cuddling for too long. He loves it though in the winter and probably turns into the octopus himself and uses your body warmth

Taehyun: A bit flustered, especially in front of his bandmates. But in private he loves it. Likes to cuddle you all day and definitely clings to your back when you cook and the other way around. Sometimes just carries you around on his back when you don't feel like leaving the bed.

Kai: So happy. Such a happy boy. He is super clingy and cuddly himself, If he likes someone and so he is just over the moon to be with you. Hold his hand all day, sleep on him, sit on his lap during group activities. He doesn't care if he gets sweaty or there are weird looks. He just wants to get all the physical contact that he can.

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old-school-butch · 5 months

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Hello again <3

I sent you an anon that you replied to on April 1st, which was me asking how ex-TIFs are received back into womanhood. Your reply gave me a little foothold which ended up very comforting as I started coming out rapid-fire to all my friends as detrans. this is primarily a message for other people in my situation, who are afraid and might want a template of what you might expect will happen once you do come out with it.

Predictably, most of my friends dropped me; I've 3 friends left. Two of which continue to support trans people but can accept that i have different opinions (as long as i'm "not mean") and one of which has seen the gender critical arguments, accepted them, and agrees. So, heavy losses, but not total losses. My two siblings seemed to sigh in relief and reveal that they never believed in genderism at all, which is odd, because in my 10 years of being trans not one of them challenged me on it. my mom fell into heavy guilt over "letting me" do all this, although i was 18 when i took testo and 19 when i got surgery, so she really could not have stopped me, legally. i suppose she mainly grieves knowing that had she had the right arguments she could have saved her kid this, but i've told her she is not to blame and i hope she recognizes that.

i haven't received any real harassment, not from anyone that i PERSONALLY know, though my family has received... harassment targeted at me? my sister had a classmate begin sending her copious pro-trans propaganda (contrapoints videos) which she instructed should be sent onward to me (sis did not comply). hilarious how my 10 years of direct experience is suddenly null and void and i'm assumed to know nothing about transness.... 6 months ago i was helping people sensitivity-write trans characters. now, i'm told i can't speak for the trans experience at all, and that i do not know what it's like to be a transmasc person. told that i need to listen to the arguments more carefully, that i don't LISTEN, when i literally lived this for 10 whole years. girl, on god? they tell me i don't get it and need to educate myself. and have empathy of course.

but in general, detransing, i've discovered that there are PLENTY of people who do not actually believe in genderism but who will play along simply out of fear or social pressure. my friends aside, who i knew through "queer" circles, everyone in my family (expect my mom) has revealed they never actually believed in it. i think this might contribute to why trans people bully dissenters so badly. they know this is the truth, that no one really buys it. i think, subconsciously, i have known that too. i never downloaded grindr, i never went into the men's bathrooms. i knew that despite testo and surgery and pronouns i could never challenge men as an equal in their eyes.

interestingly, making new friends is not that hard. I lead with the fact i'm detrans and "don't believe in all that shit" and people are VERY eager to be able to, suddenly, voice their real opinions without being called transphobic. they begin with probing questions, uncontroversial statements like "i agree they shouldn't put males in women's sports..." but if you continue to agree and not punish this daring on their part, they will reveal, with much relief and enthusiasm, what they really think. most people, normal people, really do not believe it all? i'm a brash person and can take irl confrontations quite well, hence i feel safe putting myself up as a transphobe off the bat. and people are very into this. so. the old ass saying, just be yourself.... normal people will not volunteer anti-genderist opinions on their own but when i continue to state thing after thing they open up and agree and eventually feel safe enough to admit their own thoughts. making friends, especially with non-gendie women, hasn't been that hard.

i'm going to write another message about same-sex attraction in the genderverse, but it's also a can of worms so i will make it separate from this one. again, thank you so much, for having anon on and listening, and letting us listen to each other without fear. i would hug you. to be continued

Thanks for the follow up!

My only comment is that I think most people play along out of kindness, it's not all bullying and fear, but that does impose a silence on everyone so everyone feels quite alone with their doubts.

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Congratulations on 4K!!!! Here's to many more who discover and fall in love with your incredible prose 🍻

I'd like to request:

86. “We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending.”

With Prince Stefan (surprise, surprise) if the mood strikes you lmao

Thank you so much for sharing your work with us, and for doing this little event!! Can't wait to see what you've cooked up next weekend 👀

Gender Neutral Reader x Prince Stefan (Twst OC) Word Count: 1.1k

Prompt 86: "We could be an epic novel of forbidden lovers, like Romeo and Juliet without the ending."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

You’d always joked that Stefan was basically like some fairytale prince come to life. The sweetness that never seemed forced, the genuine kindness and care with which he treated all things. His regal bearing, the fact that he rode a grand, impressive stallion with ease, and—who could forget?—the literal crimson cape hanging over his shoulders like a king of old. The face thing helped too. All sculpted planes of rugged handsome that made you feel like you’d wandered out of a garbage can in a back alleyway in comparison.

But somehow, even then, you hadn’t expected him to be an actual, factual prince. Which was honestly really fucking stupid, all things considered. Seeing as half of your friends at Night Raven had royalty in their blood in some way or other. ‘Prince’ and ‘Lord’ were nearly as common as ‘Mister’ over there. And certainly Royal Sword Academy was meant to be doomed by the same logic as its rival.

“So you’ll be ruling a kingdom someday?” you asked. “Like, crown, and scepter, and ‘my word is law, peasants’ ruling?”

“I guess,” Stefan shrugged, brown bangs flopping shaggily over his eyes. “Though I like to think I won’t be that bad,” he added on a huff that was nearly a pout.

You waved him off. “Sure, sure. You’ll be the one person in history completely untouched by the temptations and corruption of power. But like, an actual prince?”

Another huff, though this one sounded far more amused. The brunette leaned forward to try and snare an arm around your waist and pull you back against his chest. You’d been sitting cuddled up beneath a lovely willow tree, reading in the afternoon sun, when the revelation had hit. And the poor guy looked like he’d sacrifice life and limb to slip back into that cozy silence. But no way were you letting this drop. You wriggled away like a particularly determined worm and settled opposite him criss-cross-applesauce. Hands on your knees and stars in your eyes.

“Do you get access to the dungeons? And cool stuff like that?”

He snorted a laugh into his palm.

“Why do you want to know about the dungeons?”

You shrugged. But honestly, most of your friends at NRC were probably headed for the gulags or worse. It’d be nice to know you had someone on the inside, whenever you inevitably needed to break one of them out. (Floyd was looking like a strong bet. Though he could probably manage to slither out of any jailcell he found himself in all on his own)

“It’d be fun, s’all.”

“Fun,” he chuckled, shaking his head in bemusement. “Alright. But yes. I do have access to all the records of imprisonment and things like that. Not that I go down to those places if I can help it.”

“Of course, of course,” you nodded, filing that information away into the back of your brain for a later date. “Can you declare war? Like, whenever you want?”

Another laugh.

“Wars and dungeons?” he asked, and narrowed his hazel eyes in faux suspicion. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure,” he hummed, and ducked forward to try and snatch you up again. You rolled onto your back outright and through the grass—coming to a stop at the roots of the grand tree.

“And what about the rest of the royal stuff?” you continued. “Surely you must be engaged then, right? To another prince or princess out there?”

The pleasant gleam in his eyes dimmed, and you watched his gaze dart away. Heavy and uncomfortable. Which—

Oh.

He… he totally was, wasn’t he?

Something twisted in your gut—sour and sharp. And you regretted ever asking in the first place. Because of course someone as wonderful as Stefan was meant for someone else. And always had been. The dalliance with a little mortal from another world was just that—something fun, and easy, and destined to end by the summer. You swallowed past the building lump in your throat and decided that maybe this hadn’t been a great topic to push after all. You looked back up, ready to crawl back into his lap and ever so tactfully immediately change the subject, when Stefan met your low gaze with fire in his eyes. He reached out and clasped your hands tightly in his.

“I’m going to marry who I want,” he declared, firm, and loud enough it had your ears ringing. He gentled the volume a bit before continuing. “That stuff’s all ancient protocol, anyways. Time to move on, y’know? Modernize.”

“Modernize,” you parroted, feeling a bit thrown by his sudden ferocity.

“And if my father gets upset…” he mumbled, brow pinching in the middle. “Well, we can just run away then. Live in a cottage in the forest. Or, well, something like that.”

“We?” you gaped. Because holy hell. It was one thing for there maybe to be some subtle implications thrown around. But that wasn’t—that was pretty—ah—

“We,” he smiled, warm as mulled wine. And at your wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression, he eased that grin back into something lighter. More teasing. “What do you think? We could be like the forbidden lovers in all those stories!” he crooned, waving his arm through the air like he was at the start of telling some grand tale in a tavern. “An epic novel of our own creation! Like Romeo and Juliet!”

That jolted you out of whatever ‘ohmygod, ohmygod’ spiral had taken over your brain. “Really? Romeo and Juliet?”

“Well,” he grinned, sheepish. “Without the ending, I hope.”

“There are so many better love stories without the suicide pact!” you complained. “Pride and Prejudice. Midsummer’s Night Dream. The Princess Bride. Fucking, Scott Pilgrim even—”

“Okay, okay!” he laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “I get it! No more literary metaphors from me.”

Stefan leaned back against the tree, looking loose limbed and comfortable. And this time, when he opened his arms to you with a little eyebrow waggle, you sighed and curled up tight into the little, personal nook he was offering.

“But it does have it’s appeal, doesn’t it?” he mumbled into your hair. Sounding a bit far away. “Just running away together. No more responsibilities, no expectations…” he trailed off, eyelids drooping. “It’d be nice.”

You sat in silence for a moment, letting the sun play across your laps and his fingers twine through yours. And then—

“Anastasia.”

“Hmm?” he mused, lifting his head from your shoulder.

“We can be like Anastasia,” you said, fighting the heat rising along your cheeks and towards the tips of your ears. But you were pretty sure he could feel it, with how close he was tucked up against your side. “Not a perfect ending, but a perfect beginning,” you quoted, feeling a bit silly.

But Stefan just smiled against your shoulder with a contented little sigh.

“A perfect beginning, huh?” he repeated, sounding far, far too warm. “That sounds about right.”

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Prince Stefan x Reader #Stefan x Reader #Prince Stefan #Twst OC #My Writing #Writing Prompts

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awesomeferret10 · 5 months

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I would like to talk about Ianthony as of post April 1st 2024. (With obvious parallels to both The Event and Dan and Phil)

1. I see a lot of people like obsessively combing over every glance and reading into every word which isn’t anything new but I feel has really kicked up a notch lately. My general response to this is the ianthony “relationship” label shouldn’t matter. They obviously love each other platonically or anything else and I think it’s important sometimes to take a step back from your theorizing and hyperventilating to just enjoy them as people and their friendship and how much they care

2. Keep in mind this isn’t like Dan and Phil. They aren’t young people who haven’t been given the opportunity to discover/express themselves. They both still confidently state they’re straight up to a couple of months ago. When they’ve actively been asked for over 10 years what their sexuality is constantly I feel as though maybe they would have done some internal exploration of their sexualities by now. Obviously sexualities aren’t static and labels don’t matter. Gender and sex is nothing compared to the connection of people and often sexuality labels can be completely overridden or thrown into question by one person. On top of the fact that Anthony has essentially stated this himself of “you never know 🤷‍♂️” but like. They still both are confident in the label of straight. So chill out a little.

3. The crew shipping them isn’t some like inside joke within the smoffice. It’s an inside joke within the community THAT WE ARE ALL INSIDE OF. It’s a joke built by years of Ian and Anthony playing into fans questions for views and the fact that many of their employees were previously Smosh fans. So although it’s funny that all the editors and cast and crew are playing into it more than Ian and Anthony themselves in the videos remember it’s not proof of anything. They’re just being silly goofy.

4. I get it. Because before The Event I was very dismissive of every shourtney shipper. I enjoyed their genuine connection as best friends and people who clearly loved each other. But every time I saw something pointing out “oh Courtney said this” “oh look how Shayne looked at them here” I had the “this isn’t 2010 guys when will you give it up they’re just besties” reaction. I never thought people were insane for noticing that possible connection but I also just thought people were driving themselves mad reading into stuff. Obviously a lot of the things people pointed out are still probably nothing because again people were analyzing literally every microsecond.

5. Like no seriously I get it. On inspection Ian and Anthony make fuck me eyes at each other. Like constantly. They look at each other like there’s no one else in the world sometimes. The behind the scenes for my dead friend where they just spend 2 minutes with Ian trying to stick something in Anthony’s pocket while both of them are giggling is literally middle school flirting. Anthony tearing up at the story of best friends turned lovers. Little bit dramatic king. Like we all know why Shayne and Courtney love that story. But Anthony dude. After going through April 1st 2024 I totally understand not wanting to discard any of the shit these two idiots say. And it’s also really funny since they’ve proven they don’t care. Just want everyone to remember to be careful to just enjoy them soley as a duo without the conspiracy of a relationship on occasion.

#ianthony #smoshblr #smosh #ian hecox #anthony padilla #ian smosh #anthony smosh #shourtney #shartney #courtney miller #courtney smosh #shayne topp #shayne smosh #smosh ian #smosh anthony #smosh courtney #smosh shayne #smosh shourtney #🦝

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zendwrotes · 1 year

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Hi, there :D! First time resquest here but if it's not too much trouble, I would like to resquest:

Type: Headcanons

Reader: Neutral

Characters: (TWST) Silver, Riddle and Jack

With a partner who has the talent of being able to imitate the voice of anyone including his partner. It's not magic, it's a skill that the reader knew how to develop .

Remember take your time and no pressure, thank you 💐💗🌠

— Them with a Reader who can imitates voices !

⤷ a/n : sorry for my sudden disappearance for weeks, i'm busy with things recently. . . but anyways ! we're back with my poor ass writing, my askbox is still opening so feel free. remember to read guildlines first. please correct me if i made any mistakes in the askbox.

★ characters : riddle rosehearts｜jack howl｜silver

“ tags — gender neutral reader, imitates voices, twst, twst x gn!reader, reader uses you/your pronouns. . .

・warnings : none !

— riddle actually very - and yes by very i really meant it - surprises about that you can imitate voices.

— you have imitated cater's voice once in order to tricked him and riddle was not very happy about that. HOWEVER - ahem, however, that is the reason why he found out you can imitate voices without in need of magic.

— he has tried to ask you how did you do it but you only said it was a secret skill of yours. i mean you did learn it for so long so why would you say the tips - or the whole thing - of doing that to the others.

— but okay, look, if you keep imitate voices of his dorm students, he won't hesitated to give you an "off with your head" and tell you to walk around him.

— the students literally complain how you imitate riddle's voice to trick them over and over again. somehow, riddle likes that but he didn't act it publicly.

— you can also imitate his voice ? that's a new note for him. he will try to ask you to do that some days.

❝ I have heard the complains about you all the time. But I'm impressed that you can imitate other's voices, even mine. Unfortunately for you, you need to stop that action of yours, the students are not very happy about that. I will not hesitated to wrap your neck with a collar if you disobey my warning and if the students keep complaining about that. Don't make me do the hard way for you. ❞

— jack was kinda surprised at first when you imitate leona's voice (to trick him of course.), he thought that it was real leona himself !

— you have told him about your skill, how you could imitate the others' voices without magic. jack was really impressed by that.

— in my opinion, he would eventually try to imitate the other's voice like what you did too but he failed terribly. you did help him in some ways though, he really happy about that.

— you could invite him to join your voices trick thing, he thought maybe he could learn something from your trick.

— how he discovered you could also imitate his voice ? well, uh, ruggie told him about it. he said he was just chilling when he heard jack's voice said that leona needs him to clean the room again, turned out it was just you laughing for your dear life when he found out.

— yeah, jack did chuckle at that a bit, but still, you're starting to annoy the other students in the dorm.

— he has come to you to talk about it apparently. after all, he doesn't want leona to hear about the student's complaining, especially if the complaining about you.

❝ Hey, I think you're going a bit too far now. Maybe you should limit your tricks toward the others? I don't want the dorm leader to hear about this at all. . . If you keep doing it, I won't be hesitating with you. Limit it or else. I don't want to hurt you or see you hurt, okay? ❞

— this sleepy head doesn't even surprised when you can imitate the others' voices. i mean he did, just not acting it in front of you.

— he caught you imitated malleus' voice once and he's still trying to be normal after that. (he couldn't get the fact that you could do this to sebek and ruin his sleep, he doesn't mind if lilia and malleus know this though. . .)

— silver has tried to talk to you about how, how did you even imitate voices only by skill ? he's only questioning that to be honest.

— as long as you didn't annoy the others much, he's fine with that. but unfortunately it's not what he wants, haha.

— you tricked the students all days, even malleus knows that but he lets you do it because he thinks it's kinda fun to see the dorm "hyped up" with your tricks. (he just wants his dorms to finally have some more noises instead of him with his closed people noises okay.)

— however, silver still walked up to you and talk about it. no offense to you though, he's impressed that you can imitate voices anyways.

— ah, how can i imagine this sleepy boy of our saying to you ? he doesn't want you to stop though, it is making the prince of Briar Valley happy so.

❝ Okay Prefect, I don't want to stop you from tricking people with your special skill. But please, don't put me in. I know that you can also imitate my voice, you can't hide from me. However, I don't mind it, as long as you don't include me. I meant no offense, but maybe try to limit that? . . .Oh. You want me to join your tricks? I would if I'm in the mood. ❞ (and he never in the mood to join but he did watch you tricking people.)

final note ／ hope you all having fun with my writings. because i'm not sastify with it already but practice makes perfect, isn't it? anyways, please request so that i'll have the things to do.

#twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x gn reader #jack howl x reader #jack howl x gn reader #silver twst x gn reader #silver twst x reader

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thranduilsperkybutt · 11 months

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☾ the gold & the rust ☼

Pic Sources: 1 | 2 | 3

Pairings: Astarion Ancunín/Tav!Reader Warnings: NSFW; angst/comfort smut; yearning; Astarion is not ascended; mentions of past canon-typical trauma/abuse; the struggle of healing; Astarion has racing thoughts and you can't tell me otherwise; canon-typical biting; it's not about the sex it's about the feelings; spoilers for the endgame Word Count: 7,168 words Reader Gender: Female Author: Meg Summary: You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again... A/N: Look I blame Hozier for making too many Astarion-coded songs that make me sob my eyes out while thinking about the implications of his "good" ending. Astarion has literally changed my brain chemistry.

The sun cusps over the horizon, its soft tendrils spreading over a murky sky. Beckoning the night’s fleeing retreat with a gentle violence as the day demands more territory in each passing second. Sparse hues of blue manage to cling to some lingering clouds that have yet to meet the threateningly beautiful pink and orange sky.

Astarion reaches out from behind the heavy curtain and his darkness, towards the pillar of light that breaks into the privacy of your bedchamber. Pale fingertips dip hesitantly into the light, as if he could believe everything that has occurred over this past week has been only a dream. It takes but a moment for the evidence of his reality to meet him when his skin sparks and dusts under the light of day.

He flinches back, hissing lowly from the burning pain of it. Glaring down at his flexing hand as if the disdain in his eyes could change the fates that have turned the thread of his life into this ever-knotted thing. He’d never imagined he would miss having that damned illithid parasite in his head, yet here he was. Yearning to reach for morning again. Wishing to experience a dawn that may never welcome him again.

He hears the stirring moan, soft and drenched in exhaustion, and dares a glance away from his own skin and stinging regret. Stilling entirely, Astarion hopes he has not awoken you just yet. He does not wish for you to see him like this, in this state of self-pitiful detestation. Though he knows you may yet love him despite having seen it, showing the reality of his mind beyond his comfortable performances is easier said than done. Tension drips from his shoulders, if only a little bit, as he watches your body relax into the cushions with your blissfully ignorant slumber.

The sigh at his lips is shaky. Mournful. He looks back towards the sunlight and remembers how it had felt when it had forgotten how to punish him like this. He doesn’t know which is crueler: to have never felt it at all, or for it to be ripped away from him like this. In the brief time he was granted to finally walk in the sun again after the past two centuries, Astarion can’t help the fresh anger that bubbles up in him at the taking away of it. He didn’t deserve this--- any of it.

Truthfully, he has no clear memory of how the sun had felt to him when he was simply a mortal elf and not a spawn belonging to a master. It had been so long ago; memories fade over time when drenched in horror, he’s discovered well since. Still, something tells Astarion he loved the day even then as he did now. He’s certain he had always loved the heat of it--- the color.

The way it filters through your hair when you stand in the path of daylight, kissing the edges of your skin in a way he forever wished to share with it. It had been warmer and kinder to him than he had ever expected to receive, somewhat like you. You were undeniably beautiful in the light of day.

Even standing within the finality of the sunset of your journey together--- foes vanquished, coated in sweat and victory--- he had thought the same.

But nothing good ever lasts, he’s learned. At least, nothing but you. Astarion wonders if he would still grieve this much if he were to never have known the day at all. Would he know what he was missing? Would a piece of its cosmic heat have whispered of you to him, even then?

He can’t truly comprehend a world in which his fate had not become so intimately entangled with yours. Perhaps that is the worst part, how he knows he would always brave this feeling of loss to gain what he has with you. In the end of it all, he knows he has made the right choice to have this over the temptations of that infernal ritual’s power.

Despite that knowledge, Astarion truly hadn’t expected you to run after him when the lingering illithid protections dissipated from his being and the sun began its remorseless burning again. He had scampered away from the docks in an abject desperation, attempting to flee from the light’s betrayal. Astarion was the objectively faster party, but you had found him eventually--- you always seem to find him--- after he had taken to cowering behind wooden crates that cast a meager shadow of solace. He had been shaking, cradling himself, closed off entirely from the world as that sickeningly familiar taste of how things had been before--- back when he was still Cazador’s--- came flooding back onto his palate. His mind had become drenched in a fear he had thought could never claim him again.

You’d cut through all of it with your worried call of his name. Plunging him into the magical darkness you cast upon the both of you to shield him from the sun’s assault with such a thoroughness that not even you could see through it. His call of your own name sounded far too broken on his tongue for his own liking, but you’d followed the sound towards his outstretched arms all the same.

Dragging him up into yours, only a sliver of the calamity in his soul dissipated when you promised him blindly, “Come, quickly, I’ll get you someplace safe.”

Despite his better efforts, his voice shook as he allowed you to clumsily drape your cloak over his curls in darkness, unable to bring the deflecting humor to his voice that he so achingly wished would return, “Darling, you are a sight for sore eyes; or, you would be, I’m sure, if I could see you.”

“I told you this would come in handy,” you shot back, and he had been grateful for your effort at ignoring the bittersweet grief that so clearly drenched his soul in favor of reminding him of how he had teased you for spending a good amount of your gold on this very cloak when you’d all first arrived in the city.

His breath remained shallow, but his hand tightened over yours in what he hoped you knew was gratefulness when you finished ensuring the fabric had covered any of his exposed skin, “I shall never question any of your purchases again, on my honour.”

“Of course you will, Astarion,” he heard the slight worry in your voice as much as you tried to hide it. He felt the spell waning and with it the returning disorientation that even slight sunlight left him in. You had grasped his arm firmly and spoken with a confident determination that he suspected was as much for your comfort as it was for his, “Now, get ready to move quickly and keep your head down; the dark won’t last much longer.”

You were good for your promises, he’d learned over his time travelling with you, and that had brought some small comfort as the day reemerged before he’d had a chance to respond. Then, you were maneuvering him through the city, towards the darkness of Sharess’ Caress, with such a precision that he might think it more important than any quest you’ve had thus far if he hadn’t known better. Gripping him tightly the whole way, Astarion still has not dared tell you how grateful he was for it--- for you, surprising him against his better judgement every time with how you simply are.

It has been nearly a week now of you coming to his side in the night and yet some part of him still expected the other metaphorical shoe to drop. For you to come to your senses and tell him that you simply cannot carry on like this with him.

He wanted to believe you. Gods, how he wants it. Yet, he still felt like a fool to think he’s earned some love such as yours. He wants to believe he deserves the way you look at him like he can be what you see him to be. It’s too dangerous for his heart to invest in the thought that he maybe can. That maybe he is, already.

For you to look at him and tell him, “We’ll find it together. I promise we’ll find a way for you to walk in the sun again,” with such determination--- for you to be someone who genuinely believed the both of you could achieve it---

Well, you simply must be mad. He doesn’t know how else to explain these little ideas of yours.

Astarion figures you’ll continue to be as much a surprise to him as you’ve made a habit of in the past… and then there was that persistently annoying optimism of yours to contend with.

But this?

He doesn’t think that you understand the truth of the choice you’re making, to stay with him. To love him. How could you know it and still look upon him with such eager hopefulness as you do? He barely understands it at all himself, and he’s had centuries to come to terms with what he’s become. Forgive him if it’s a bit difficult to begin to understand just what “being something better than what Cazador made him” truly means.

He understands how much he wants you, though. He wants it all. The life that was stolen from him, the opportunities, but mostly for you to be there--- here. Where you’ve not wavered an inch from his side; you’ve given him no reason to think you plan on leaving anytime soon.

Why does he still fear it so much, though?

Some part of him had thought--- hoped foolishly, rather--- that killing Cazador would somehow fix two centuries of torment. Fix him. In the brief time after, he discovered that it hadn’t. In his elongated struggle, he worries it never will.

Nightmares still plague him, he still jumps at shadows, he still has thoughtless fear dart through his mind before he remembers again that his former master is well and truly dead. That simply existing in happiness was the rebellious proof of his victory over a man who he hopes will not haunt him forever. When he is with you, Astarion almost believes that Cazador won’t. It is some charm you have bewitched over him surely. Your ability to calm this chaos in him with soft eyes and patient hands that do not seek to own him, yet he eagerly chooses to belong there all the same.

Astarion still has trouble loving you like he knows you deserve to be loved. There are times when he can barely stand physical touch, though craves to want yours. And you understand the duality of the contradiction in him, taking only ever what he is willing to give.

Sometimes he thinks you too understanding, with little concern of how this affects you. He’s always baffled by how selfless you can be sometimes, particularly when you’re taking in strays. He has come to admit, if only to himself, that he does see the irony in his complaints. Moreso, he’s terrified of what will happen when that seemingly endless well of care you hold within you for others inevitably runs out.

What will happen when you can no longer bear his eccentricities? The compromises? The sacrifice that his double-edged love requires of you? Will there come a time when all he offers as part of being in this real love becomes too overwhelming?

Astarion had fallen in love with you in the easy warmth of sunlight. Looking upon you now as the dawn creeps against your sleeping form, his heart aches as he wonders if he can truly doom you to a life in his complicated darkness.

Selfishly, one thought consumes his mind--- he knows he wants to. He would want you, no matter the cost to you both. You have told him over and over again how you want the same but, Gods, he can’t figure out what he has done for this sliver of joy and it eats away at him in the dark. It’s unreasonable what he asks you to give him, but he’ll take it all the same. Bitterly he thinks, if he were a better man--- the man you see him to be--- he might even feel guilty for it.

For now, all he feels is the monstrous need to escape these racing thoughts in his head.

When will you walk away to join the sunlight for good? Hells forbid the answer his weary heart is preparing for ever be spoken from your lips.

Astarion hopes the day never comes when you choose to go where he cannot follow. He wants to spend all his days traipsing after you, wherever you may lead, no matter how much he may complain about it for show.

Astarion wants to spend all of it, whatever it may be, whatever he’s got left, with you. He’s terrified of the day that you change your mind on him. Fearful that you may one day decide these sleepless nights with a vampire spawn who can offer you nothing more than his undying love and sarcastic quips are nothing compared to the full life you could have with someone else. This theoretical, easy life in the sun that he dares to think he is stealing from you by loving you as he does.

Well, he supposes that reclaiming Cazador’s palace is always an option, rather than his other fantasy of burning it to the ground. Spending an eternity draping you in finery and keeping you to himself within a palace feels like something he should want, but he can’t help to think that it would be no better than making his love for you into a somewhat prettier cage.

More than he wants you, he needs you to freely want him. He’d be tempted to take up praying again if he had any faith that it could solidify your love for him forever, but deep down he doesn’t want heavenly intervention. He wants you to want to be with him--- to choose him willingly and without any regret for what the inevitable sacrifice will be. That understanding is, perhaps, what makes his heart swell with this bittersweet glory over all else.

You’ve told him as much and what your lips did not confess to him willingly, your body has whispered to his with an adoration that threatened to scorch him in much the same way of your beloved daylight. You’ve told him you will find him some cure for his darkness; you are set on performing a feat no one in history has ever achieved, all for him, but he wonders if it is as futile as the sun laboring to join the moon. Maybe he is destined to forever look upon you with the knowledge that when your bright, beckoning light inevitably burns out, he will be left with only his darkness, alone again--- this being the most horrible realization of all to have come to him tonight.

Hells, how desperately he wants to believe you, but Astarion has always had difficulty getting his hopes up. He hasn’t been known to bet on losing dogs, and he certainly doesn’t bet on his own odds these days.

But he figures you have more than enough hope for the both of you.

A minute smile quirks his troubled lips at that thought, watching your fingers twitch in your slumber. He shouldn’t doubt you as he does; you’ve given him everything. His freedom, his salvation--- even from himself, when he hadn’t known how much he needed it. Things he can never repay, and yet you’ve never asked him for a repayment. He owes you everything, but you’ve been adamant in tempering his sense of obligation. You’ve reminded him that everything he's done, he’s chosen for himself.

You’ve only ever asked him to love you, and that you have had for far longer than you know--- far before you ever actually plucked up the adorable courage to ask him for it.

He has come to love you more than he’s ever loved anything for as far back as he can remember. The depths of his adoration could scare even him with the raw vulnerability he is left with when it comes to you. How beautifully all his plans and plots for self-preservation have backfired upon him, though. He would not have you destroy his peace of mind in any other way.

Maybe one day, he’ll admit to you exactly when his nice, simple plan truly began to fall apart. The idea dances in his mind, of how you’ll react to that particular information. You’d hang on his every word, he thinks--- it would be rather pathetic of you, if he weren’t in much the same state.

Gripping the curtain, Astarion finally deems it time to push the budding light out of his darkness. If it is to be the only place he may have you for all of your days, he’ll make his darkness a sacred place. He decides he shall worship you in it--- all other gods have forsaken him already. Until the day his little hero saves him once again, he will indulge in this darkness with you.

The patriars nipping at your heels for guidance, the unwashed masses of the Gate clamoring for their glimpse of his hero, even your other traveling companions--- none of them shall invade upon this sanctuary.

He moves towards the bed, returning to you. Exhausted from a late day in the city and an even later night of enjoying his company, you’ve taken to claiming sleep when you can these days. The evidence of your labor rests in the dark circles under your eyes. He doesn’t think he could stop you from your philanthropic efforts assisting the city’s reconstruction even if he tried.

Still, right now, in these hours you are only his.

He dips his weight onto the bed and lays himself alongside you, pulling you tenderly against him as his lips graze your neck. Truly, he knows it is cruel to wake you, but he doesn’t know how he can manage to miss someone like this when you are right before him. It is as if his very soul yearns for you. He melts against the rhythmic flutter of your heart, and it sounds more like his home than the palace he has spent the last two hundred years in ever could.

Teeth graze against your carotid pulse, and you stir slightly. He hums into the soft warmth of your flesh, biting without intent to draw blood--- though the thought of it does cross his mind. He has never recovered from the taste of you. Cold fingers curl into your bare hip, dragging you slightly closer at the feeling of your waking movements.

Your pulse picks up against his lips. Astarion hears the patter of your heart in your ribs as his tongue drags up your throat towards your ear. Your breath hitches when his lips graze your jaw, but your eyes remain closed.

His lips twitch with mirth at your effort to have him do as he pleases.

“Quite the show, my little love, but I know you’re awake,” Astarion murmurs, slurred from the back of his throat like a man lost in thorough indulgence. Drunk with the scent of you on his skin, he leaves another faux bite on your jaw as you squirm beneath his assault.

“Shall you feed again, is that it?” yawning, your hand rubs at your eyes before you blink them open. When his hands run up your sides, your answering shiver reminds him of that first night he’d fed from you. Lit only by the campfire, you had allowed him to take too much before stopping him, even then.

He chuckles breathlessly, shifting the covers to invade your space more completely as you come back to your consciousness piece by piece, “As tempting as it is when you offer oh so nicely to be my treat, I hunger for something more satisfying this morn.”

“Ah,” you gasp from sleep-drenched shock, reacting on a delay as he brings his knee up to strategically push your legs open. Allowing you to feel the growing length of him through the thin linens between you, he levels you with his weight in a slow grind. Blinking up at him, your eyes focus in a darkness lit only by the dim glow of dawn beyond the curtains when he languidly rolls his hips against yours, “A-Astarion---!” He is watching you peculiarly, with a glint of some unreadable darkness in his eye that you can’t quite place. The breathless whimper at your lips sends that warmth of yours straight down his spine, “What’s gotten into you?”

He hasn’t had you since that night he had been so drenched with adoration that he’d taken you on his own grave and truly confessed how he loved you. Ever since then it had been battle and struggle, one after another, in your pursuit to stop the Absolute for good--- constantly ensnared in some new concern that stole any potential moment he could’ve used to steal you away from duty. After the final battle, Astarion had been so dejected by the return of his vampiric limitations, and you had been near constantly pulled away to assist the public---

There was the part of him that enjoyed indulging in the easy-going intimacy you offered him. The lack of pressure to perform was something he had not yet fully become accustomed to; a certain comfortability that has been cultivated between the two of you over the time you’ve been together. The sense of knowing that he is well and truly safe with you. Despite this understanding, he wished to freely want you in every way he was capable of.

And, oh, how he has come to want you over these last few days.

It was so mindlessly simple and immensely complex. He can barely put into words to describe the ways he wants this. Carnally, intimately, wholly, eternally--- nothing is a sufficient descriptor. Maybe in that vast library that your wizard, Gale, insists on boasting about showing him one of these days, Astarion will find an all-encompassing word for how he wants to have you forever.

As it stands currently, he settles on the comfortable seduction that has become second nature to him, “Actually, I was quite hoping to have gotten into you by now, lover.”

He’ll never get over how you melt for him; how you fall for every word. He watches the heat he stokes behind your eyes, the flex of your fingertips where they lay beside your head on the pillow.

Then, he descends upon you.

A practiced mouth parts yours as his cool hand takes the long route from your waist to your throat, indulging in the feeling of everything in-between. He sets your skin on edge in his wake, stirring a familiar feeling that he was entirely too good at urging from you to settle low in your stomach.

Gentle fingers find his hair and he feels the scrape of your nails against his scalp when he finally rests his hand on your throat to hook his thumb beneath your jaw, kissing you deeper. Passionately. As he always does, Astarion excels at unravelling you in every way, but you have no idea how much you manage to rebuild him with your every touch.

Your body welcomes him completely, urging him closer in ways he doubts you are consciously aware of. His hips rock into yours with each passing second that your heat spreads through him, feeling himself grow harder at your soft moans that meet his eager mouth. When you tug slightly at his hair, he lets a cautioning sound fall from his tongue onto yours, but you only nip defiant teeth at him in response.

And then he’s pushing your hands down, captured at the wrists by his. Pinning you to the pillows while he draws back just enough to catch the breath that is coming, labored, from the both of you.

“I’m sorr---” you begin, remorselessly.

“Telling a pretty lie won’t save you from me,” Astarion leans close once more, dragging his skin against your cheek as he kisses a trail towards your ear, feeling you test his grip at your wrists with a half-hearted tug. “I do believe all of this ‘Hero of Baldur’s Gate’ business has kept you from the more important happenings of our bedchamber. It would be a terrible pity if you continued to neglect your baser desires when I am in such a mood to indulge you.”

“Are you sure you’re talking about me?” you tease and he feigns a mild shock at the insinuation that his own behavior is the reason you’ve yet to bed him.

“I’ll have you know I am all indulgence, unlike you, darling hero,” but when he leans away, your eyes capture his. Reading him too easily, you know something is wrong as his carefully constructed mask falters, if only for an instant. It’s all you need, and Astarion regrets losing himself for the moment as he watches your softening gaze survey him.

“Is that so…?” You’re left guessing at what troubles him, “If you missed me, you could’ve just said so. The city can survive a few days.”

“Does the city know that?” it would be so easy to leave it there, to let you think you’ve figured him out once again. The anxiety in his veins won’t allow it, however, and his mouth speaks before his mind can instruct him to shut up, “Tell me, darling, that you won’t regret it someday… Of course, you won’t--- but I would like to hear it all the same.”

He looks down on you with growing vulnerability, confidence cracking. That detestable anxiety that has plagued him all evening coming to the forefront of his mind once more. Crimson irises swirl with a reckless uncertainty and it reminds you of how he had looked upon you when confessing his initial manipulations in those early days of your relationship.

“Regret what?” the confusion on your face nearly has him losing his nerve, but he chokes back the urge to dismiss you so quickly.

“I don’t want you to regret… choosing me,” his voice is clearly pained at the thought, cold hands at your wrists tightening like he is afraid you will run from him should he let you go. “Choosing us, I mean. I am well aware of all you shall endure if you spend each painstaking night of forever with me. It is a price I was willing to pay for my freedom, but you… I--- I know you have said that I am what you want, but I don’t want this to be one of your regrets. I don’t want you to resent me for keeping you here---”

Astarion was constantly preparing himself for the ending of all things; it is a part of his nature that you wish you could soothe with simple words alone. It will be much more difficult to satisfy than that and you know it, but you intend to spend all your years working towards earning his unwavering faith in you. This trust that he has so endearingly placed upon your soul, when every piece of his own screamed at you for doing the same. You doubt he knows how, if you were to someday break him in the way he so fears, you feel it would be as if you were destroying a part of yourself.

You cut off his rambling with a firm, “Astarion!” like it hurts you to hear him talk of himself in this way. His mouth snaps shut as you search him for the cause of this doubt, “Have I done something to make you think I will have these regrets you worry of?”

“Well, no, but---”

When you pull at his grip this time, he wordlessly releases you, only for you to reach up to him to drag him down into a tight embrace, “Then, why is your heart so troubled?”

“I---” he chokes on the word and how shallowly his lungs fill with you holding him so securely in your arms. Maybe it is better that you hold him so closely that you cannot see how he crumbles against you, dissolving into your grasp as if you are the only thing holding him together when he confesses, “I know what it is to live this life of darkness. You are so---! You deserve everything I can’t give you, starting with a life surrounded by the beauties of daylight.” His head turns, misty eyes catching your worried stare. He regrets the distress he’s caused you, but moreso he needs to hear your reassurances that his mind has gotten the better of him in this. He has never hoped so pitifully that he was wrong.

“Astarion,” heart swelling at the loss in his eyes; he looks to be mourning for you. As your thumb smoothes along the lines of his jaw, you come to realize the depth of his lingering sadness, “tell me, what good is the sun? The sun cannot care for me as you do or feel my love in return. A life of pure sunlight is worthless if it means living it without you.” You watch his breath catch in his chest, a stifled sob of his relief that he does not give into so easily.

His voice comes strained and nearly sounds like he’s on the verge of arguing with you, “You so obviously will miss it! You talk of finding a way for me to ‘walk in the sun again,’ but what if it’s impossible? What if we waste our lives searching for something that was never attainable? When you realize it, I wouldn’t have you look differently upon me.”

“Is that it? You think I talk about finding you a cure for my own benefit?” you scoff, before leaning towards him to place a soft kiss against frowning lips. He lingers in the middle ground as you depart just enough to demand he listen, “I only think of you, Astarion. Since the moment I first saw you, you’ve consumed my mind, body and soul. The sun was made for you--- and you’d know it if you ever had the privilege of seeing yourself in it. I only want for you to be happy.”

The arch of his brow tells you he still doesn’t fully believe you, despite his attempt at a half-hearted joke through the tightness in his throat, “I do quite enjoy when you call me beautiful.” It’s more than that, and you both know it, but if he were to ask you right now to name one thing about the light of day that you know you will sorely miss, it would be never seeing him in it again.

Rolling your eyes, you sigh at him with a lopsided smile, “Oh, my silly vampire, I love you much more than the sun. Without you, I would not want any of it. In fact, you can take the moon and stars, too, while you’re at it---”

He cuts you off with the eclipse of his mouth on yours, hands spread along your ribs to dig eager fingertips into your skin as he pulls you in as close as he can manage. The kiss is more languidly meaningful than the last; he intends on burning the feeling of you into his mind to replace the torrid thoughts there. If your words had not been enough to convince him, you hope the way you receive his body with your own can. Every part of you calls to him, blood and sinew, breath and bone, flesh and spirit.

Maybe it’s clear to him now, that you are as intertwined as the earth and sea. Should the tide of your soul ever depart from his shores, he can rest in the knowledge that your reunion is inevitable. As far as you are concerned, you are fated in such a way that not even the gods above or the devils below can alter the course of how your body fits beneath his--- how you shall always welcome him home.

You will have him, for as long as he will have you.

When he finally withdraws, he dares not go far, eyes blinking open slowly in a melancholy acceptance, “How can I be so fortunate?”

Brushing the mess of white curls behind his pointed ear, you hum at the shiver that runs through him when your fingertips graze the skin there, “I don’t know, but it’s about time things start going our way, don’t you think?”

“That it is,” his groaned agreement softens the worry in his eyes and he melts into the stroke of your hand against his temple.

“What you should be worrying about, Astarion, is whether you’ll regret choosing me when I’m all old, wrinkled, and grey,” it’s only half of a tease, and you hope he can’t see through the smile on your lips. The thought has been on your mind for some time after realizing that the two of you were going to somehow survive everything you’ve endured these past months.

“Darling,” he scoffs, nudging his nose with yours, soothing you as much as you do him, “knowing how well trouble finds you, we’ll both be long dead before either of us need worry much about that.” His lips graze yours, when he gives you his earnest answer, “For our sake, I hope to spend every moment we have left with you, watching every sunset and sunrise we are granted until the end takes us both.”

It's more complicated than that, but most real things usually are.

What isn’t complicated is how you feel beneath him, tongue tracing his teeth as he ravishes you. There is a completeness that comes in the way of his body fitting against yours. This reassurance in your touch will never falter. Even if your mind were to eventually escape you, he will know you were always his. If the world were to fall away in this moment and leave nothing but this room, Astarion would happily float out his days with you here forevermore.

He loves you. You love him.

He can scarcely comprehend anything else. Nothing else matters, he decides.

Nothing but your little shivers and whines when his fingers delve down the soft flesh of your stomach--- nothing but the arch of your body into the exploration of his touch. Nothing is worth more than his name whispered from your lips in that scandalous tone you reserve for these moments he sets your skin ablaze with teeth and tongue. You call to him like it were a prayer, but Astarion has hardly done anything so holy to warrant the way you say his name.

His sole inkling of faith is spent on the belief that he could live his whole life, his extended eternity, and never tire of loving you.

Soft and demanding partner within the thrill of his touch, you’ve learned, and his hands part you for him with that comforting understanding. Insistent and hesitant are your finger’s answer to him, digging into the nape of his neck as your head falls back against the pillows. Throat bared, it’s a wonder he doesn’t take another bite of you where he’s done so frequently before, but his attention is too acutely focused on the aching wetness between your thighs and his slender fingers.

Your lips part in an open moan of his name with how expertly he drags pleasure through your veins with each stroke within you, and he drags his teeth against your jaw in a growl, “You sweet, generous thing, always so ready for me.” Finally, he grants you some relief from his constant teasing, pressing the heel of his palm into your most sensitive nub. He allows you to seek your own pleasure with each desperate grind of yourself against the hand that continues to stroke pleasure from within, “Do you have any idea what the sight of you does to me? How dearly I long for us to never leave this bed?” The rasp of his voice has heat rushing up your spine, muddying your thoughts with each continuance of his lascivious tongue, “Leave the Gate to fend for itself, my dear, for I should have you like this always, stripped bare with me between your thighs.”

“Have me then, Astarion,” you really did purr for him in times like these and as much as he enjoys teasing you for it, he truly does relish the tone you get when he has drenched you in lust. His reaction at your words is groaned against your throat; he’s so near, but his hand retreats from you all the same. Never to neglect you for long, your lover is soon tearing at your smallclothes with an impatience that was not wholly unexpected from him.

He pushes his weight onto his forearm beside your head, using his other hand to tug at the laces of his loose breeches while glancing down between you. His eyes, rubies in the darkness, snap to yours and it is as if he has dipped you in firewine and struck a match. You burn for him, from the inside out and in such a way that you know he has thoroughly ruined you for anyone else. You are dripping with it, onto the sheets and the new press of his length against your core. His indulgent rub of himself through your folds is punctuated by him grinding into you, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling for but a moment.

Hair disheveled, you watch the beauty of him as he swallows deeply before capturing you in that piercing gaze once again, “I think I shall have you, now--- how did you just put it?” He crowds you with his arms, and your breath hitches at the feeling of him catching at your entrance when he murmurs lowly, deliberately, “Body and soul? Isn’t that right, my love?”

The way you drag him down into your kiss as he pushes into you is a messy, desperate thing, but it only seems to urge him on. You simply cannot seem to get close enough, though not for lack of trying, as he fills you gloriously. Astarion gasps into your mouth, staggering the push of his hips against yours, devouring you until he is left seated so deeply within you that you can hardly breathe. Then, hands around your thighs push your legs up, and he fits impossibly further.

You sob a moan against sharp fangs, deliriously full of him as he begins a slow fucking that is just enough to drive you into madness. Clambering for something to ground yourself, your nails dig into his back, scraping against the scars that remain there--- his hips snapping faster into you at the feeling of it.

He smears saliva across your jaw and down your throat, understanding your breathless, “Please, please,” for what it is. Permission.

Pain is so fleetingly brief that it may as well not exist at all, because when he bites down hard enough to draw blood from your skin, you are met so suddenly with a lightheaded ecstasy that is compounded by the pleasure he pulses through your body. Only the raw stretch of his every thrust keeps you from dissipating into delirium entirely. You are left keening beneath him as he dissolves into the taste of your blood, feeling his moans against your neck and the way his thrusts begin to match the drum of your heart in your ears. Astarion’s fingers drag in the space between, stopping only when he has found the base of his seat within you.

You feel your heart skip in your chest before he ceases the meal he’s made of you, licking your throat of the sloppy blood that threatens to yet spill. The iron of it meets the smell of sex in the air and he strokes his fingers against where he continuously plunges so deep within you; the wet sounds of your coupling may have been embarrassing if you weren’t so disoriented with the raw need of it. Your every nerve has fiercer concerns than your fickle dignity when he is working to make such a wonderful mess of you as this.

“Delicious,” Astarion groans into your shoulder, nipping and groaning against whatever he may get his mouth on as he feels your increasingly erratic clenching with his harshening pace. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling him reach to draw tight circles at your clit as his own pace begins to falter. Neither of you will make it much further through this. He is left stained, begging upon your skin, “Come with me--- Hells, darling--- I need you to---"

Finding a grip in his hair allows you to drag his head sharply back to force his open-mouthed gaze to cast upon you once more, desperate to see him as he falls apart with you.

The sight of him is nearly enough for you to lose what little sense you’ve held to; while his complexion has turned slightly rosy with the assistance of your fresh blood, he still looks upon you with a consuming hunger all the same, “I love you.”

“Gods---!” dark eyes slam shut as he gasps out your name before all control leaves him in the mindless oblivion that he drags you down into alongside him. Scorching pleasure burns from the inside out as he loses himself in the trembling heat of your rapture, dissolving into a wild and erratic pace that bursts sparks of euphoria behind your eyes.

You are both left in the sticky aftermath of it, heaving mingling breaths as tension melts into you from where he collapses and lingers atop you. You hold him, content to have his softening length seated within you for all eternity as you let him continue his mindless caressing of your skin.

He has said it before, but it will never be enough, so he says it again in the hoarse aftermath of your lovemaking, “I love you, darling. You have made me so… happy.” Should you ever forget it, he is prepared to remind you for the rest of your days, “Thank you.”

Your own repeated declaration is sighed with a contentment that you hope will last a moment longer as your fingers take to stroking through his hair when he lays his head against your chest. Can he hear it from there, you wonder, how your heart whispers only the sweetest of sentiments for him? You like to think he can.

“Astarion?” you finally croak after some time, and he hums soft acknowledgement without much movement. “We should watch the next one together.”

“The next what, my treasure?”

“The next sunrise.”

There is a smile in his voice when he murmurs, “Always.”

#astarion fanfic #astarion ancunin fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 female reader insert #female reader insert #newstuff female reader insert #fanfiction #gif not mine #nsft #smut #author meg #fanfic by me

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cammiluna · 3 months

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Mario Stuff Headcanons

and by mario i mean the immortal fool au. sorry. you're not getting any game canon HCs from me ever again... not that I've written any in the last 15 years...

You know mine already as an ifool reader but

Mario and Luigi (both in their mid-late 30s) never have much involvement in my comics, so they’re just cis dudes with unknown sexualities for all i know right now,

actually, scratch that. as of this post, ifool Mario is dating Toad

Geno (age 4000+???), Stars in my AU physically cant be sexed and align to genders based on their interactions with modern society and interactions with other stars based on who gendered themselves on THEIR exposure to the mortal world. He presented himself as masculine, which was carried over into a physical presence when Starlow made him human based on her own personal love for yaoi media. Once he discovered sexuality as a human, he fell into pansexual territory, dominantly falling in love with peach but also having complex feelings for Kamek since they dated decades ago and all that missed opportunity of being physical is creeping up on him. Outside of those two, he has no real attraction preference.

Kamek (age 140) is bisexual/gender nonconforming. Before becoming Bowser’s caretaker and during his temporary retirement, he’s had a lot of exposure to the Beanbean kingdom where at least half the Beanish population is gender nonconforming. It’s the norm here and nobody even labels it “gender nonconforming”. Any beanish that was a girly girl or manly man would simply boast it, but anyone that presented anywhere in between was normal. He started questioning his gender when disguising himself as peach, but just accepted himself as nonconforming and made himself more and more flamboyant whenever away from his koopa troop duties. Currently he is with Naval Piranha, but also returns those complex feelings Geno has on him and can’t quite figure out if he still loves Geno in some way (they argue and insult each other a lot), or if they’re making up for their relationship 50-60 years ago not being mutually sexual due to the physical limitations of Geno’s first inanimate object possessions. Other past relationships include Lima, Harhall, possibly Lakitu from Tetris Attack, had a one-shot date with Gadd and crushed on Toadsworth… and the list expands as i keep writing this guy.

Lady Lima (277), bisexual girly. Had a relationship with Cackletta, ditched her to be with Kamek who came in like Howl from Howl’s moving castle, then dumped him and devoted her life thereafter to make both Cacky and Kamek miserable whenever she wasn’t on shift. Currently in a stable long distance relationship with Toadsworth, so long as her past is buried under a rug.

Fawful (18), I was playing with the idea of him being transmasc, but it’ll conflict with ifool’s prologue. Regardless, he presented masculine since he was a child. He’s otherwise aroace with his asexuality being of the absolute sex-repulsed kind. I have an OC ship for him that i wanna tap into in future comics as homage to my friends in the fawful fandom, and also, to bring to the table that aroace relationships can actually exist Fawful also has a backstory of being a prank-wished stork child that Geno brought to the lives of Kamek and Lima when he took their sarcastic wishes literal during a debate on the existence of storks, so Fawful kind of has a mom and two dads here, but nobody’s ever gonna talk about it Lima simply does not want to acknowledge that babies come from the stork despite literally getting one

Mallow (age 23 in the comic), still figuring himself out but is in a happy and healthy relationship with Gaz (20). He sees himself with a bit of effeminate charm whereas Gaz presents a bit more masculine, but they’re both cis dudes

Gaz, absolutely gay, both in happiness and sexuality

Naval Piranha (50s), another aroace, but not sex-repulsed. She just wants to be around Kamek and spend all her time with him. It wouldn’t matter what gender or anything he is. She’s just glued to him and making it work out. She knows his past relationships and is fine with Kamek being with others- so long as she’s also friends with them. Technically, she does get on friendly terms with Geno since ifool, but doesn’t understand why kamek, peach and others find him so “hot and sexy” as a human as Naval personally finds him aesthetically boring

Cackletta (224 at time of death), not much is written about her, but lesbian

Gadd (age ???), cis man, i-dont-care-whoever-gives-me-the-time-of-day-sexual

#headcanons #mario #luigi #geno #geno smrpg #mallow smrpg #mallow #kamek #gaz smrpg #naval piranha #cackletta #e gadd #lady lima #fawful

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conceptofjoy · 6 months

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This is just personal exp with being hyper fem as a kid and then coming out as trans masc as a teen and accepting myself, but it is a lil rough seeing so many ppl pointing to Roxy's feminity as reason why she can't be trans masc in the epilogues and as much as I disagree with Rox being trans masc it's also the first trans masc character I've seen who gets to have their femininity and be masc at the same time which reflects my exp. Overall, postcanon fuckin sucks and her being trans fem is forever but somethin abt how ppl are handling the trans masc stuff is uh lil disconcerting? Like I feel its kind of being swept under the rug how some trans mascs try to force themselves to be Girl the way Roxy has the same way trans fems try to be Boy the way June did b4 coming out and getting to vibe as ourselves. I get it and feel like I need to disclaimer the hell out of this bc "trans men arent oppressed as much as trans women" is a too common sentiment Ive seen these days. Also Dave and Dirk are Right There who I hc as trans masc/male. Like Rox didn't need to have this happen to her, at the same time the way some ppl in the fandom are handling it is coming off rough.

god we are SO fuckin sad wrestling over literal fuckin table scraps.

if their journey through gender expression and discover mirrors ur own, cool. theres not many trans people in media IN GENERAL. still, the epilogues could have like. chosen another person to go through that journey: JANE. instead of making her a 2d big bad, there could have been an internal struggle mirroring her gender she feels she has to be and to the empire she felt she was destined to create. while not quite the same as coming out, dirk and roxy elaborating on their own transness still means something. then again all this would require the epilogues to not be All Of That.

her femininity isnt the reason why people are saying roxy's trans fem (see the reasoning i gave) much in the same way callie dresses masc but is a trans woman. it's about background themes that are baked into her story. again, jane would be a stellar complement to her since they're best friends. also like. most people in our circles realize their trans after wrestling with the gender they were assigned. trans women dont relate to her for the reason she wears a skirt, especially not out ones.

and also like. theres a reason you sent this. the last paragraph of that post i said theres nothing i can do (or would do) to stop anyone from enjoying trans masc roxy. at the same time u dont have to tell the person explaining why the direction they went with roxy was a backhand and that they're tired of the treatment of trans women that you happen to actually like the development with roxy. is liking trans masc roxy inherently transmisogynistic? no, BUT we can both stay in our own lanes forever and ever peace on earth.

#not answering any more asks about this.#and not addressing the third to last sentence bc i dont want to.#d talks #ask

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rainbowsky · 1 year

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Happy Pride! 💖🌈🦄

Happy Pride, everyone!

I wanted to celebrate Pride this year by sharing some great up-beat queer anthems - songs from some of the groundbreaking queer artists who have been raising their voices to make the world a better place every day. Let's celebrate diversity together! 😘

Domo Wilson - Bisexual Anthem

youtube

Domo Wilson should really be the one to start the Pride festivities this year, with this amazing, amazing, amazing Bisexual Anthem. Songs like this are rare - great message AND good song. This woman is fucking brilliant. (Sexually explicit lyrics).

Brenda Fassie - Vuli Ndlela

youtube

Africa's first openly gay pop star Brenda Fassie is an incredible talent. Her voice, her style, everything about the way she sings is utterly captivating, compelling and packed full of emotion - whether it be joy or misery.

I discovered her a while back and had that tragic modern experience of falling in love with an artist and then immediately being pitched into grief as I learned about her difficult life and too early death.

Some of you might be familiar with the Chinese term, 'jaiyou' which literally means 'add oil' or more generally, 'go for it!' Vuli ndlela is a similar term that means 'make way!'

The song is about sticking it to gossipy neighbours on her son's wedding day (because they thought he'd never marry and find lasting love), but over the years it has become a popular anthem of empowerment and encouragement.

Troye Sivan and Gordi - Wait

youtube

Who can resist a dreamy, sweet duet with two queer darlings?

Muna - Pink Chiffon (feat. Phoebe Bridgers)

youtube

I've shared this song before on my blog but it's such a sweet, catchy, up-beat song it deserves to be shared again.

Beth Ditto - We Could Run

youtube

One of the greatest - and most consistently and criminally underrated - voices in music.

Kehlani - Altar

youtube

This isn't an artist I've followed in the past, but this particular song is so infectious, I absolutely love it.

Shae Diamond - I Am Her

youtube

In her own words:

"My name is Shea Diamond, Singer/Songwriter based in NYC by way of Flint, MI. I was born into a gender role that I did not accept & I didn’t feel like myself. Desperate to find the financial means to transition to my true gender, I committed a crime in 1999 & was sentenced to 10 years in a men's prison. While incarcerated, I found a community that shared my trans experience - it was there where I found my voice. I began writing “I Am Her” as a statement to a world that said I shouldn't exist. I wrote it as an anthem for all those that felt shunned for simply being who they were. In 2009 I was released from prison. Shortly after my release, I moved to New York City where I found a studio to record “I Am Her” and the means to create a video for my song."

Ria Mae - Bend

youtube

Canadian pop sensation Ria Mae, yet another criminally underrated artist whose work speaks for itself. Let's give her some love as her home town and province have been suffering intense and dangerous wildfires, and destruction to homes and wildlife habitat.

Janelle Monae - Lipstick Lover

youtube

I don't even need to say anything about this song that this stupid-ass 'age restriction' bullshit doesn't already say. 😅

It's worth the trip to YouTube.

Erasure - A Little Respect

youtube

I'll close this off with one of the best gay anthems ever written, and one of my all-time favorite songs. Never has it felt more relevant than it does today, with all the hate being thrown at queer people, all the backward redneck laws, all the churchy dicks trying to destroy the lives of people they don't understand. Like the line in the song:

What religion or reason Could drive a man to forsake his lover?

What indeed?

Happy Pride everyone! 💖

YouTube playlist of these songs.

#queer calendar #happy pride 2023 people #personal

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jennandblitz · 2 years

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fic masterlist

i've been meaning to do this for ages, but here is a fic list of my darlings. Ones with a 🖤 are personal favourites of mine. Of course, please check the tags of any fic you'd like to read and if you want to leave a comment or kudos, my eternal thanks to you.

Marauder Ink 🖤 My baby. Tattoo artist Sirius Black is doing just fine, until Lily hires Remus Lupin, piercing expert, to work at Marauder Ink alongside Sirius and his brother James.

Marauder Ink 2: Black and Grey Sirius and Remus are together, but both their pasts haunt them as they try to work through the sticky business of falling in love.

Crazy Little Thing Called Love James and Lily have been together since high school and now they run Marauder Ink with their best friend Sirius. One day, James wakes up and decides he wants to get married.

Caught 🖤 Remus' POV during Marauder Ink, he is dealing with his own self-hatred and his burgeoning feelings for Sirius. ~~~

Rock N Pole 🖤 - co-written with @freedombooksflowers Genderfluid Sirius is a pole dancer. At a competition they meet asexual rock climber Remus and they slowly fall in love. Yes, this is over two million words and a huge, huge thing to read but we love it. Full to the brim with the struggles of gender and sexual identity, Remus and Sirius discover themselves and each other along the way, including a surprising D/s relationship that fulfils them both in ways they do not expect.

~~~

Black Glitter A series where Sirius is a Drag Queen in Brighton and a local competition is judged by Remus Lupin, editor of the local queer mag, the Wolf Pack, and Sirius is immediately enamoured.

~~~

Quidditch Through the Ages Inspired entirely by seeing my rugby team win, Sirius and Remus celebrate Quidditch wins through the ages by having lots of sex.

~~~

Just a Jeepster for Your Love a place for my cross-posted Tumblr drabbles and adorable tiny fics.

~~~

A Beginner's Guide - co-written with @wewereinfinitelywolfstar Hiatus. Sirius and Remus have been together for several years when they want to get into kink. This fic follows them discovering the BDSM lifestyle and provides a literal beginners's guide.

A Boost Over Heaven's Gate Sirius and James have been together since school, even after James and Lily start seeing each other and Remus and Sirius start dating. Remus and Lily know, though, and Remus decides to take Sirius and James under his wing into a D/s relationship.

A Million Dreams, A Million Scars Sirius comforts Remus after the full moon, full of fluff and kisses.

Always In This Twilight My fix-it soul bond AU, following Sirius and Remus from the first year of Hogwarts all the way through to Halloween 1981.

As Though Nothing Could Fall 🖤 Sirius and Remus are on an Order mission when Sirius gets caught in a magical trap. Bleeding out fast, he and Remus frantically search for a way to get out alive with some confessions on the way.

Distractions a silly little fic where the narrator gets frustrated with our boys and the dirty tangents they go on.

Endings and Beginnings my Very First Fic. It's sentimental and a broad look at Wolfstar's lives.

Going Back for Love 🖤 After the Shack Incident in 1975, Sirius is expelled and finishes his education at Beauxbatons. It's 1982 and Remus has to deal with the return of the one person he never thought he'd see again.

Happy Birthday, Moons the fluffiest of fics for @purplechimera8's birthday.

I Am Not Afraid to Keep On Living The zombie apocalypse happens slowly and two survivors find themselves in an abandoned shopping mall, drawn to each other.

In The Throes of You 🖤 Sirius, Remus, James and Lily frequent The Tower, a BDSM club where they can explore their deepest desires. One of the most electric Tops in the place, Sirius always bottoms for the worst people and Remus is there to pick him back up after.

Moonlight Mile After the War is over, Sirius and Remus run a lycanthropy support group; they work to undo harmful legislation and provide a safe space for sufferers and their family. One Flower Moon, though, everything is upended

my heart feels the weight of all I don't know Sirius goes undercover at Narcissa's wedding, with Remus as his date.

My Own Secret Ceremonials 🖤 the super new moon has Remus crawling out of his skin and Sirius knows just what will help.

Never Have I Ever... my second-most popular fic. Sirius, Remus and James play a popular Muggle drinking game and things get a little... steamy.

On a Hot Summer Night On a beach holiday, Sirius and Remus take advantage of no one else being around.

Out of Stock Remus helps out a Hard of Hearing boy and his Godfather who is struggling with his BSL vocabulary.

Parlez-vous Francais? The cutest of meets, Sirius and Remus run into each other on the Paris Metro.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder It's 1953 and The Marauders bike gang roll into the small town of Godric's Hollow. Remus knows the leader of the gang is bad news but he can't deny there's an attraction there.

Robbers Sirius and Marlene make a bad decision one day when they're bored. Inspired by The 1975's Robbers music video.

Satellites 🖤 Sirius is the guitarist for Starsign, a band on a meteoric rise to fame. In Glasgow one day he meets gig photographer Remus Lupin and it's all over from there.

Tag, You're It A Bring Black Back, post-Veil reunion with a fair helping of angst.

Television Romance - co-written with @brokentoasterrr Small-time criminals, big-time lovers Remus and Sirius plan a heist to pull the wool over the eyes of gang leader Dumbledore.

The Black Dog and the Wolf A Witcher-books AU where Witcher Sirius finds a werewolf on the edge of town.

The Morning Doesn't Reach Us 🖤 a modern-magical AU where Hogwarts doesn't exist, Purebloods are educated at home and, well, Sirius doesn't know about the Mudbloods. But one night he stumbles upon a Wizarding nightclub and no matter what, he keeps coming back.

The Music Room - co-written with @freedombooksflowers Victorian Scion Sirius Black needs a new piano teacher and Remus Lupin fills that position, and the space in Sirius' heart.

The Secret "Oral" History - co-written with @stonecoldhedwig We affectionately call this fic 'coke fic'. Sirius and Remus are at university in the 1980s and a note passed in a lecture sets everything in motion.

The Treasuries of Firenze 🖤 An Assassin's Creed AU where Assassin Sirius finds an artist in a market in Florence and is immediately in love, but the universe has other ideas for him.

Wildflower About You Marlene runs a cafe/florist with her best friends Sirius and Remus. Flower supplier Dorcas Meadowes is sweeter than any of her blooms.

You've Got the Universe Reclining in Your Hair At a Christmas party at the Potter house, Sirius and Marlene are dancing around each other and finally fall into step.

20th January 2019 After the wars, Sirius and Remus spend the moons in quieter places nowadays.

#wolfstar #my fics #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #r/s #sirius black #remus lupin #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders

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not-poignant · 8 months

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Hi, Pia....

So, I used to love shounen and shoujo manga equally, also (het) romance stories from various books. But ever since I found BL manga & danmei books, 3 years ago, my interest in shoujosei (especially het romance) decrese a lot, and what I search for is just the dynamic between mc (male) and male lead. I don't want to read mc (female) and male lead or mc (male) and female lead. Like I become fed up with m/f pairings. And what I want to read mostly are just mlm or wlw stories....

What do you think is happening to me? Is it really weird?

I don't think it's weird at all!

It's normal for people's tastes to change over time for a lot of different reasons. For example a lot of people love m/m because they're just less likely to find certain tropes there than they are in heterosexual romances.

And because of that, they feel more drawn to m/m because they can escape certain strictures of heteronormativity (even though aspects are present) that can allow relationships and characters to be presented differently!

Things like this can cause readers - regardless of their sexuality or gender - to gravitate towards certain genders or sexualities in romance and it's not necessarily a commentary on who they are, but on the tropes they love to read, and the tropes they want to avoid.

It's good to reflect or think about what you might be noticing as the differences between the things you love and the things you're gaining distance from. When I was younger I read a lot of Mills & Boon romance, back when there was a lot of dubcon in it. I literally didn't have other options at the time, the internet didn't really exist.

When I started getting other options I was realising for the first time that hundreds upon hundreds of new tropes, or new ways of writing old tropes and themes, existed, and I got to make more choices, more freely.

You might find it's the same! Especially if you're younger, or especially if you're just discovering these tropes and themes now.

There's so, so many reasons to be drawn to certain pairings, and sometimes sitting down and non-judgmentally reflecting on that can be really helpful. The non-judgmental part is important.

One day you might drift away from what you love now and love something else more instead! It's really really normal for many people to go through different phases not just in genre, but in all sorts of things! I have been obsessed with BL again for the last two years, but I spent like three years not reading it much at all, and reading a lot of nonfiction instead. Where our minds and our desires and our thoughts take us, often show that we're growing or changing as people, picking up a lot of different tales and narratives on the way.

Honestly that's cool, it's not weird at all

#asks and answers #pia on reading #idk how to tag this #you don't have to worry there's something wrong with you or anything like that #even just thinking 'well i enjoy it more'#or 'i feel like the stories mean more to me right now'#that's enough anon #it doesn't have to have a big meaningful reason #the reason can simply be entertainment #that's okay #administrator gwyn wants this in the queue

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nicejewishcharactershowdown · 2 years

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Nice Jewish Character Showdown 2023 -- Round One Eliminations

Well folks, the first round of the 2023 event has concluded, and 16 hopefuls have been taken out of the running for this year's crown. While we wait for the polls to go live for round two, let's take a second to debrief with those contenders, and break down what makes them such Nice Jewish Characters.

Match One Elimination: James Wilson, House MD Apologies to the House MD fans who kept trying to push the vote in your guy's favor, I honestly did not expect 9 to have such a high turnout (I'll elaborate on his inclusion another time). I'm going to make my way around to watching this show eventually I promise, in the meantime all I can reference to validate his Judaism is the textual reference to his Judaism in dialogue, the enthusiasm from my Jewish mutuals, and his entry on Jew or Not Jew (which, although considerably dated, was a popular site for me and my Hebrew School peers to browse between classes).

Match Two Elimination: Susan Ivanova, Babylon 5 While I haven't watched Babylon 5, I was pleasantly surprised to discover just how Jewish this Trek-adjacent show is, at least, in terms of canonicity. The second in command of the titular ship, Ivanova is textually Ashkenazi, Russian specifically. I can't speak on specifics since I, again, haven't watched the show, but it sounds like her relationship with her ancestry is tied significantly into her personal plot arc, as she reconnects with it over the seasons.

Match Three Elimination: Avigdor, Yentl Oh, Mandy Patinkin, the communal zeyde of the Jewish internet. While Avigdor may not be the Nicest of Jewish Characters, we gotta remember dramatic context! And yes, the absolute Gender of Yentl is no small factor in his popularity. I don't regret the picture I used, but I'm sure he would have had a bit of a swing vote if I used the picture of him wet and shirtless. Ah, well. Not like this is the first time Yentl's been snubbed for awards season.

Match Four Elimination: Samwise Gamgee, Lord of the Rings Yes, the books have the unfortunate way they've reflected on antisemitic stereotypes with the portrayal of the dwarves. But when you look at the hobbits, don't they feel like citizens of a shtetl? Aren't you filled with the warmth of shabbos when you think about a hobbit hole? And when thinking about Samwise's unending hope for good, even in the darkest parts of the journey, are you not reminded of something?

Match Five Elimination: George Costanza, Seinfeld Yeah I knew this one was going to infuriate some people. George Costanza, you textually Jewish in every way but literal prince, you are the perfect example of the transitive property of Jewish media (Jason Alexander has been quoted as saying that Costanza is Jewish because he's being played by a Jewish actor). Doing readings on invisible Jewish representation through the lens of Seinfeld (and the associated eras of television) is FASCINATING, btw.

Match Six Elimination: Schmidt, New Girl A very Jewish cast and crew brought this 2010's icon to our screens, and while the humor might not have always been the kindest to his Jewish identity, it's no surprise that he has such a continuing popularity within the former viewing audience. Someone get him a cookie, please?

Match Seven Elimination: Cher Horowitz, Clueless Written by a Jew, directed by a Jew, played by a Jew, Cher Horowitz is a great example of the transitive property of Jewish media. Plus, with a last name like Horowitz and a lawyer father, there are plenty of reasons to interpret the 90's darling as such. This Kveller article is full of fun facts about the Jewish background of the production!

Match Eight Elimination: Barbara Millicent Roberts, Barbie Watch Tiny Shoulders if you don't think Barbie belonged in this showdown. Barbara Millicent Roberts, you've been so popularized and Americanized that we've forgotten your roots, my darling! Ruth Handler, Barbie's creator, comes from a distinctly Jewish background, and her family's Ellis Island history is a good way of looking at the way Barbie's been assimilated. Sure she's got her Christmas-y ties, but most Christmas media comes from us anyways, so I think she can get a pass.

Match Nine Elimination: The Baudelaires, A Series of Unfortunate Events Okay, I'll admit it, I never read ASOUE. It freaked me out too much as a kid, and I've never circled back to it. But it's been on the back of my mind for a while, and now that I'm aware of just how Jewish the source material is, I'm this close to looking up the audiobooks on Libby. This is a step above the transitive property of Jewish media, this is textual. I guess it's characteristic for the Baudelaires to lose, but they can be comforted in how close the vote was.

Match Ten Elimination: Tommy Pickles, Rugrats So I grew up with public access television, and when I finally got cable it felt a bit like I'd missed the boat on Rugrats, age-group wise. But seeing the VHS cases on the library shelves of my synagogue, I always knew that show was a good case of Jewish representation. The Rugrats was revolutionary in their central Judaism in children's media: not just giving it to a side character for special episodes, but giving it to the main character and spending ample time discussing it. Consider putting the Passover or Hannukah specials into your holiday circulation.

Match Eleven Elimination: The Strilondes, Homestuck Somewhat surprising to me, but not really since they lost round one last time, the Strilondes have been taken out of the running. What makes Dave Strider and Rose Lalonde Jewish? Siblings through manipulation of genetic cloning, we witness a Very Jewish Wedding in the Snapchat Credits Sequence to Homestuck, where Rose and her wife, Kanaya, are in the center of a horah dance, lifted above the crowd in chairs (here's the timestamp). Besides that, Homestuck can be interpreted through a very Jewish lens (at least to me, someone who has a John Egbert statuette on their bookshelf). Plus, Homestuck has an answer to the Great Frog Debate (their answer is the biggest frog possible).

Match Twelve Elimination: Frankenstein('s Monster), Frankenstein Sorry Adam, I know losing twice in a row is hard, but to be fair you DID go up against werewolves last time. Why is Adam Frankenstein('s Monster) Jewish? He has a complicated relationship with the concept of a higher power (and in his case, a complicated familial relationship with his own creator). Plus, when I look at him, I see the most famous golem in pop culture. Jewish Frankenstein supremacy <3 (Oh, and while I'm thinking about it, a general plug for the book version of Monster High, published in 2010, which has a VERY Jew-coded interpretation of the titular monsters, imo.)

Match Thirteen Elimination: The Baker, Into The Woods Musical theater is inherently Jewish, so is it any surprise that a Sondheim character made it to the showdown? Into the Woods is a masterpiece, and when you look at it through a Jewish lens it gets even more so -- especially in the second act. The Baker is one of several characters in the show that really become aware of the constraints of their fairy tale lives, and choose to circumvent them. I'm going to restrain myself from discussing it more since the entire original cast recording is available to watch here, and it's one of my favorite musicals ever so I'd just get incoherent in further analysis if you haven't seen the source material.

Match Fourteen Elimination: Will Byers, Stranger Things I knew this was going to happen on the #CecilSweep website, but it still hurts a little bit to see Will Byers lose with such a sweep. Maybe it's the fact the Byers house has readily available Christmas lights. Why was he a contestant? Well, observing the transitive property of Jewish media (as discussed earlier), Noah Schnapp AND Winona Ryder's Judaism is more than enough to validate a Jewish reading of the Byers family -- in my mind, they're a mixed household, and kept celebrating Xmas after Lonnie left because the kids grew up with it (plus, they're in Indiana in the 80's, so...)

Match Fifteen Elimination: The Lorax, The Lorax Did you go to Hebrew School in the United States if you didn't watch or read The Lorax for Tu B'ishvat? I mentioned the VHS library at my synagogue earlier, and this tape was a standard on the wheelie box tv set-up, often used to distract the younger kids who would get bored at the High Holy Days services. He's just a lil' man who loves the trees, that's a mensch to me.

Match Sixteen Elimination: Worf, Star Trek: The Next Generation I feel like I have to apologize for putting the two Trek characters against each other up front. It's another place where my textual knowledge slips a bit, so when I found out just how Jewish Worf is I was pleasantly surprised. Trek has a very odd relationship with just how Jewish it has been since conception (thank you, Nimoy!) , so for Worf's parents to be all but declared to be Jewish is like. You could have just made them Jewish. Why didn't you make them Jewish (we know why).

#post round analysis #nice jewish character showdown round one #nice jewish character showdown 2023 #nice jewish character showdown

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