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muldermuse · 6 months

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Coffee Shop Confessions (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

Reader overhears Glenda (Gator’s girlfriend) bragging about how intimate her and Gator were a few nights ago. You want to remind Gator who he belongs to.

18+ only!!!! Smut below. Smut includes oral (m receiving), mentions of piv, infidelity (huggge thing), facial (f receiving), exhibitionism??, cumplay. If any of these things are not to your tastes, pls do not read the fic!

This is at some point after the two sinners fic. This dynamic is so fun to write because Gator is an awful person (but so are reader and Glenda).

You’re out on a casual coffee date with Jax when you see her walk in. It’s Glenda and as always (as much as it pains you to admit it) she looks great. Her hair is in her signature low ponytail with a white shawl draped around her shoulders. Underneath the shawl it looks like she’s wearing a long green dress but you fear pointing your eyes in her direction for too long. Glenda comes in with the rest of her book club, they usually meet at the Church hall every Wednesday afternoon but renovations are currently in the works so the group meeting has been diverted to your usual coffee shop.

You saw Gator three nights ago, his afternoon shift was quiet so he spent a few hours fucking you in different places around your home. You know that he hasn’t slept with Glenda yet, he has to marry her first and from what he tells you, his daddy is really on his back about doing it soon. Roy tells him that a woman like Glenda won’t hang around forever and if he isn’t ‘man enough’ to marry her; a better man will. The only reason that Gator would ever marry her is to keep his daddy happy. He’d spend a life betrothed just to appease a man who views him as nothing but a disappointment.

You’re sat on a couch near the back of the shop so Glenda and her group don’t see you as they peruse the menu. Jax is completely unaware that the group have entered and only knows Glenda from around town. He’s chatting to you about this new deal he’s getting close to finishing at his work. You’ve been feigning interest until the ladies walked in but now you’re not even paying attention to him. They choose a big table and unbeknownst to them, sit within earshot of you. They’re all clutching their dogeared copies of Jane Eyre as a barista delivers cups of tea to the table. You try to tune the conversation about the book out until you hear something peaks your interest.

“Okay, I have to ask I can’t wait anymore” Glenda’s friend Holly squeals, all of Glenda’s friend look exactly like her but with interchangeable eyes and hair colour. “Glenda, have you and Gator done anything else since the other night?”. You watch Glenda’s cheeks tinge pink as all of the group turns to look at her, placing their books down and holding their mugs close to them, seemingly waiting for the gossip.

“Oh my, Glenda! Have you and Gator…y’know” Sophie all but whispers. You smirk, none of these ladies would ever say sex out loud in a public place, maybe in the comfort of their homes but never ever out where they could be heard. You imagine if they would ever call it fucking rather than sex. It seems like Gator exclusively refers to it as that and you can’t imagine him using a softer term like ‘making love’. The thought of him saying that to you sends a shiver down your spine.

Glenda places her mug down and a small smile crosses her face. You’ve known Glenda since school and you know how much she loves talking about herself. It’s probably a tie between herself and her relationship with God for her favourite topic of conversation. You watch as Glenda looks at all her friends to seemingly ensure that all attention is placed on her. “So, ladies- some of you may know that Gator and I were…shall we say…intimate the other night?”.

You feel your heart drop into your stomach. Why hadn’t he told you? You honestly never considered that they would do that before getting married.

Glenda continues, “Okay well not ‘intimate’ in that kind of way”. The table erupts with polite giggles as you feel a wave of relief wash over you. Of course they wouldn’t be doing anything like that yet. They’ve been an official couple for 8 months and Gator has been fucking you for just shy of a year. You wonder if it’s difficult for him to pretend he’s never done anything before. This whole topic makes you feel uneasy; discussing Glenda is completely off the table for you and Gator. You don’t talk about their relationship or their future unless you’re in an argument and you want to hurt him. Or, if he wants to make you feel insignificant. Both of these things happen more than you care to admit. Gator didn’t lose his virginity to you, that was long gone by the time you two started…whatever this is. Jax interrupts your train of thought, he can probably tell that you haven’t heard a word he’s been saying for the past few minutes. “I’ve just got to take a call and then I’ll grab us a coffee to go- okay?” You nod and rub your hand against his forearm. He smiles at the gesture but really, that is your way of asking him to hurry up so you can eavesdrop more.

“So he came home from work and ladies, I think we can all agree that he looks very dashing in his little uniform” The groups nods and giggles. “I’d had a small glass of white wine whilst finishing up my new library book and I don’t know what came over me.” The rest of the group look enthralled with the tale and you realise this is probably the most exciting thing that has happened to them in the past month.

“So, he comes and sits next to me and he’s on his phone and I tell him how handsome he looks and I put my hand on his knee…well not on his knee, maybe above it? And I suppose, I just took control! I kissed him and we made out a little. No tongue or anything but it felt really special. I tried to sit up closer to him but he told me that it wasn’t the right time. I love that about him y’know, his commitment to the Lord is really there.” By the end of her tale, she looks flushed as if reciting the interaction has got her worked up. “So I guess, that means we’re going to wait until we’re wed. I know you all understand how much that means to me.” She holds her hands out into the centre of the table and her friends grab and squeeze as a sign of support.

Your phone buzzes and pulls your attention away from the group. Jax is calling and as you look up you see him smiling and holding two coffees to go. You grab your bag and as you turn to leave you accidentally bump your hip into Glenda’s chair.

“Oh…I didn’t see you there. I hope our book club didn’t disrupt your date with this new gentleman friend of yours.” She looks at Jax and waves at him, her eyes don’t leave his as she turns away from you and says, “You just seem to have so many gentleman friends…I guess it’s hard to keep track”. The sound of the group giggling under their breath takes you right back to high school. Right back to hearing Glenda make comments about you and your friends to a roaring laughter from her minions. All of whom would never even look your way without Glenda’s presence. You consider how cowardice always outweighs confidence.

“Y’all have a nice day discussing that book”. You pat Glenda’s shoulder and hold your head high as you leave the coffee shop with Jax. You know the only thing they’ll be discussing for the rest of the afternoon is you and your ‘scandalous’ life.

***

[sent at 19:03] You: need to see u tonight, come round when u finish

[received at 19:07] Gator🐍💩:??? k omw to u now.

He knocks on your door just after quarter past. You’ve changed from your coffee date outfit into your favourite piece of lingerie. You’ve had it for a while and it drives Gator wild every time he sees it. It’s white lace bra and panties with a garter belt and white sheer suspenders. To answer the door, you’ve draped Gator’s plaid shirt over your body- he loves shit like that, it makes him feel more possessive over you. The shirt is completely open and you pray that no one else is on the street. A quick glance through your keyhole just shows Gator looking slightly more fidgety than usual.

You open the door and greet him with “hey Sheriff”. He rushes inside pushing you back, trying to hide your body. He sits down on the couch and covers his eyes with his hands, “are you fuckin’ insane? Why the fuck are you answerin’ the goddamn door like that?”

He keeps his hands covering his eyes as you position yourself on your knees between his legs. You huff out, “I wanted to surprise you…I bet you’ve had such a hard day at work.” You run your hands over his thighs and smile at him when he puts his hands behind his head to look at you. You dropped the shirt when he pushed you back from the front door so now you’re just kneeling in front of him wearing your delicate white lingerie. Your hand stays on the bulge in his pants, your thumb rubbing over it gently as you rest your head on his knee.

“What the fuck are you doin’ baby,” he lifts his hips to push his bulge into your touch and bites his lip at the contact. His thumb runs against your cheekbone as his eyes bore into yours. It’s a tender moment, a rare one for the pair of you and all you can think about is how much of a fucking bitch his girlfriend is. You want to send her boyfriend back to her completely wrecked.

You unbutton his pants and Gator takes the hint and shimmies them down until they’re pushed down below his knees. You inch closer to him and stick your tongue out as your eyes meet his. He smirks as he taps the head of his hard cock against your tongue. The sound of wet slaps fills the room as he asks you, “y’gonna help me unwind?”. You nod as you take his cock into your mouth.

You hear him mutter “fuck” under his breath as you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock. His left hand rests on your head as the other stays behind his back. He doesn’t apply any pressure to your head as you take him deeper into your throat. You feel tears filling your eyes as you pull of him with a gag. Spit connects your mouth to his cock as you keep stroking him as you catch your breath. His eyes are hooded and he smirks at you as he teases, “oh honey, I thought you wanted to help me relax…y’were doin’ such a good job too”. He grabs your chin with his forefinger and thumb and presses a kiss to your forehead. He pulls off you and you move your mouth down to his cock again.

“Make me fuckin’ cum down your throat, pretty girl”. Gator loves to hear you gag on his cock, he is pretty big and hearing you struggle reminds him of that. You get into a steady rhythm of sucking his cock and twisting your hand for whatever your mouth can’t reach. As he gets closer to finishing, he pushes his hips up so his cock is hitting the back of your throat.

He whimpers above you, “fuck baby, I’m going to fucking cum…quick- where sho-“ before he can finish his sentence you’re giving him your best doe eyes and begging him to cum on your face. He moans at the instruction and finishes before has chance to consider what you’ve said. Ropes of his cum cover your face as you wipe it from your eyes to look at him.

You pick your phone up from the ground and throw it at his chest, “do I look pretty enough for a picture, Gator?”. He still looks dazed from his orgasm as he holds your phone in his hand and snaps a quick picture.

“Why the fuck do you want that?” He asks after he gets his breath back. He dresses himself quickly as you tell him it’s probably time for him to leave.

***

Glenda always posts what she makes Gator for his dinner on her Facebook. The caption usually containing what the meal is and how thankful she is to have such a ‘grateful man’ to cook and care for. Gator’s long gone by the time Glenda posts her chicken casserole picture. You send him a message as soon as she posts the meal.

[sent at 20:34] You: hope you’re still feeling relaxed baby ❤️

You attach the picture of you from an hour ago. Between Gator’s hairy thighs, smiling with your eyes closed and ropes of Gator’s cum covering your face. Gator has no manners so will undoubtedly open the text sitting at the dinner table with Glenda. You smile as you go to put your phone on charge. You leave it on silent and turn it so the screen is facing down.

You’d hate to interrupt the happy couple’s evening.

#fargo #fargofx #fargoedit #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #joe keery x reader #joe keery #joe keery smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman #gator tillman fanfic #gator x reader #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x f!reader #two sinners works

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eleanor-bradstreet · 7 months

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Let Me Be Your Anchor

Chapter 5: Fever

Benedict Bridgerton x Sophie Beckett An Offer From a Gentleman reimagined Chapter rating: G Word count: 1.9k

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Author's Notes: This fever scene is very close to the one depicted in the book, so in case folks are wondering why I bothered rewriting it, the answer is simple: taking out the bits I found icky. Feverish Benedict dragging Sophie into bed with him, demanding that she kiss him while her pants fall off; Sophie kissing him on the mouth while he's unconscious; and then the most bizarre of all: he rolls around naked while she changes the sheets underneath him like she learned to do for a sick elderly lady 😅 I just...I don't know what to say about those moments, so here's my heartfelt correction. No shade to book fans 💙

On returning to her room, Sophie found the dry night dress laid across the bed as promised. A surfeit of nervous energy kept her going as she changed into it, but once her head hit her pillow, she felt herself succumbing to an exhaustion so total it seemed to come from her very bones.

It had been a long day, a very long day, between attending to her daily chores, dashing around the house to escape Cavender and his party, an unexpected horse ride through torrential rain with the man she longed for… Her eyelids drifted shut. In moments she was floating, sinking into the welcome embrace of sleep.

She sat up suddenly, her heart pounding. The fire in the fireplace had burned low, alerting her that she must have slept for some time. But she had been so deep in a dreamless calm, she wondered what could have woken her. She had the faintest impression that she had heard a voice, a shout, somewhere in her consciousness. Was it Benedict? Had he called out? He had not looked at all well when she left him.

Sophie eased out of bed, wrapped a blanket around herself for a shawl, and crept back to his room. Through the door she heard again the sound that must have woken her. It was a deep groan, followed by a thrashing noise, and then by what could only be called a whimper.

Quietly, she let herself into Benedict’s room and closed the door. It was so dark she could barely see him in the bed, the only light a faint glow from the dying fire. She groped about for a candle, bent to light it in the coals and then turned to look across the room. He was lying in the bed, almost preternaturally still, his face shining with perspiration. Sophie edged toward him, her eyes focusing on his chest. She knew he couldn’t possibly be dead, but she’d feel an awful lot better once she saw his chest rise and fall.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” she whispered. “Mr. Bridgerton?”

No response.

She crept closer, leaning over the edge of the bed. “Mr. Bridgerton?”

With a shudder he began to visibly breathe, but he also started to thrash and moan. Sophie rested the candle on the bedside table and knelt next to him. There was enough heat coming off his body that she knew he was in the grips of a fever. He tossed and turned, twisting the sheets around himself, mumbling streams of unintelligible words.

Sophie reached out to touch his forehead. It was on fire.

He was in need of a doctor, that much was clear. Determined, she wrapped the blanket tighter around herself and shuffled back into the hall. She had no idea what time it was other than the dead of night, likely past midnight. She padded barefoot back to the entryway of the inn. The fire in the large grate had died down to coals. A single candle sat burning on the desk and behind it was the stable boy, stretched out across a bench snoring lightly.

“Pardon me?” Sophie whispered. When he did not stir, she crept over and gently poked him in the shoulder. The boy’s eyes flew open and he bolted to stand upright.

“Hullo, Miss! Can I help you?” He rubbed his eyes, trying to focus them.

“Hello,” she gave him half a smile. “I’m sorry to wake you, but I believe Mr. Bridgerton is in need of a doctor. Can you send for one?”

“Oh,” he blinked at her. “I’m sorry Miss, but the village doctor’s gone out of town. I only know because Mr. Cooper went with him. His daughter’s having a baby, you see. They left an hour ago.”

“Oh, I see,” Sophie felt deflated.The boy looked up at her nervously as her mind whirred. There was nothing for it, she would have to tend to Benedict as best she could until the carriage from Aubrey Hall arrived. “Thank you,” she managed to keep her voice steady. “I will see what I can do. I’m sorry I woke you.” The boy shrugged at her, grinned, then curled up on the bench and fell back asleep as quickly as a cat.

Returning to Benedict’s room, Sophie found him lying still, but his breathing was shallow and rapid. She reached out and touched his brow again. She couldn’t be certain, but it seemed to her that it was growing warmer.

This was not good. She chewed on her lower lip as she tried to decide what to do. She had no experience nursing the feverish, but it seemed to her that the logical thing would be to cool him off. She moved across the room to the pitcher and basin, finding it thankfully full of water with a cloth nearby. As she soaked the cloth, she heard a soft murmur behind her.

“Where?”

She turned. “Mr. Bridgerton?”

“Where?” he repeated. But he did not open his eyes.

She walked back to the bedside. Even by the light of one solitary candle she could see his eyes darting rapidly under his lids. It was bizarre, she thought, to see another person dream.

“Where’d you go?” he groaned, his brow creasing into a look of anguish.

Sophie held her breath. He wasn’t lucid. Clearly he wasn’t asking her where she went when she left the room. No, he was somewhere else entirely, calling out to whom - she could never guess. But the pain on his face cut through her. She thought she could at least comfort him, despite not knowing the cause of his suffering.

She placed the cloth on his forehead and leaned toward him. “I’m right here,” she whispered.

He shifted, mumbling something utterly incoherent, then fell still again. Sophie continued to dab the cloth across his brow and down his neck. “This ought to make you feel a little better.” He didn’t flinch when she touched him, and she decided to take that as a good sign.

She cooled the cloth with more water from the basin and then began to move it across his chest which was glistening with perspiration. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His face had grown placid again, his brow gentle and his lips slightly parted. The only sound in the room was his quickened breath. He was ashen even in the warm candlelight and she noticed for the first time how long his dark lashes were. Despite being lost in a fever, he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.

She could never have imagined that she would find herself here with Benedict again, and in the strangest of circumstances. For two years she had dreamed of him, for two years she had loved him, or at least the idea of him, the version that lived in her head. But here he was before her, warm and solid and real, and in need of her.

But it wouldn’t last. In the morning a carriage would come and take him away, out of her life again. This would be the last time she saw him. It had to be. Her heart couldn’t bear it. Being this close and this intimate with the man she desperately longed for but unable to act upon her feelings or even be honest with him. Because who was she? A bastard and a maid. A trespasser, a thief, and likely a wanted criminal. What was there for Benedict to love or even to respect? No, this was her final night in his presence, gifted to her by fate, and she resolved to make the most of it and savor this end to her dreams.

Her heart fluttering wildly, she leaned down and brushed the barest, lightest, most gentle of kisses on his pale forehead. “I love you,” she whispered, allowing a solitary tear to escape. “I’ve always loved you.”

To Sophie’s everlasting relief, he didn’t move. It wasn’t the sort of moment she wanted him to remember in the morning. She continued to cool him with the cloth until his skin felt clammy rather than scorching. His breathing also slowed to a normal rate which brought her a sense of calm. She was exhausted, her rest having been broken, and she left his bedside to sit in one of the armchairs by the fire. She dozed helplessly, fading in and out of awareness. How long she stayed like that she wasn’t sure, it could have been minutes or hours. But at some point, Benedict suddenly groaned. She snapped to attention and saw that he was shifting restlessly in the bed. She hurriedly made her way to his side.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” she whispered. She wanted desperately to call him Benedict. That was how she thought of him; that was what she’d called him in her dreams these long two years. But that would be inexcusably familiar and certainly not in keeping with her position as a servant.

“Mr. Bridgerton?” she whispered again. “Are you all right?”

His eyelids fluttered open.

“How do you feel?” she asked him.

He blinked several times, and Sophie couldn’t be sure whether he’d heard her or not. He looked so unfocused, she couldn’t even be sure whether he’d truly seen her.

“Mr. Bridgerton?”

He squinted in the fading candlelight. “Sophie,” he said hoarsely, his throat sounding terribly scratchy. “The housemaid.”

She nodded. “I’m here. What do you need?”

“Water,” he rasped.

She filled a drinking glass with water from the pitcher and handed it to him. His fingers were shaking, so she did not let go of the glass as he brought it to his lips. He took a couple of sips and then sagged back against the pillows.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Sophie reached out and touched his brow. It was still quite warm, but he seemed lucid once again, and she took that as a sign that the fever had broken. “I think you’ll be better in the morning.”

He laughed. Not hard, and not with anything approaching vigor, but he actually laughed. “Not likely,” he croaked.

“Well, not recovered,” she allowed, “but I think you’ll feel better than you do right now.”

“It would certainly be hard to feel worse.”

Sophie smiled at him. “I tried to call for the doctor but he was out of the village tonight.”

Benedict raised an eyebrow, surprised at her level of concern and initiative.

“I’ve also sent for a carriage from Aubrey Hall. I expect it will be here in the morning. You certainly can’t ride in this state.”

Again Benedict wondered who this woman was to be taking charge of his well being and managing his affairs. A maid who he had found on the roadside in a state of her own helplessness. But rather than feel aggravated, he was surprised to find himself feeling grateful, comforted, even impressed. Sophie was clearly determined to take care of him and he somehow felt that so long as he was with her, everything would be alright. She obviously had a good head on her shoulders to think to call a carriage. How curious that when they had met hours earlier, he had intended to look after her and see her safely delivered to her destination and now the tables had turned completely.

Perplexed, amused, and completely drained, he nodded, the corner of his lips turning up in a smile, “Thank you, Miss Beckett.” His eyes closed. “I’m going back to sleep now.”

Sophie sighed, glad that he was on the other side of danger. The light in the room was starting to lift and grey. She went back to her room and sank into the luxurious bed, happily returning to sleep for a few precious hours before she would have to say goodbye for the last time.

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @eg-dr3amer3 @time-to-hit-the-clouds @lyta2323 @autumn-grace @sadprose-auroras @the-other-art-blog @goldrambutan @colettebronte @heeyyyou @musicismyoxygen84 @faye-tale @ambitionspassionscoffee @starchaser325 @malna4903 @sincere-sarcasm

#let me be your anchor #an offer from a gentleman #benedict bridgerton x sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #sophie beckett fanfiction #benophie #benophie fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #head canon

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chicinsilk · 3 months

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US Vogue April 1, 1969

Berkley Johnson wears a gypsy-style dress, in Paisley silk…bright pink and orange with ruffled sleeves, ruffled skirt, fringed silk scarf tied like a gypsy shawl. By Sophie Gimbel of Saks Fifth Avenue. Scarf by David St. David. Pearly strings by Marvella. Shoes, I.Miller. Hairstyle Ara Gallant.

Berkley Johnson porte une robe à l'esprit gitane, en soie Paisley…roses vifs et orange avec manches volantées, jupe volantée, foulard en soie à franges noué comme un châle de gitane. Par Sophie Gimbel de Saks Fifth Avenue. Écharpe par David St. David. Cordes nacrées par Marvella. Chaussures, I.Miller. Coiffure Ara Gallant.

Photo Richard Avedon vogue archive

#us vogue #april 1969 #fashion 60s #spring/summer #printemps/été #sophie gimbel #saks fifth avenue #berkley johson #richard avedon #ara gallant #i.miller #vintage vogue #vintage fashion

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laminated-loser · 2 years

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Would you consider making a part 2 to your howl x male reader fic? I just read it rn and it made me so happy 😭❤️ there’s pretty much nothing for male readers and Howl out there so I was excited reading this

I shall do just that. I'm so very glad you liked it and thats the exact reason I wrote it, heh. Well, I wrote this while sick so it might suck. Here we go, part two of Howl x Male Reader!!! (Yo wait i just reread the first one and then read this one. It sucks. So uh, apologies for this one being shit. I'll do a better one when I have more time I'm so sorry Anon)

You and Sophie sat in front of Calcifer, simply talking and waiting for the master of the house to return. You both had finished cleaning the entire castle, minus Markl's room of course. You had told him if he cleaned it himself, you pay him 10 gold coins.

"Well, I better go to the market." Sophie said, standing slowly. You frowned at your friend. You'd known her since you both were babes yet now... A curse lay upon her. But unbeknownst to everyone, one also laid upon you. "I'll come with you." You offered. "No, that's alright. You've always been such a kind boy, N/n." You smiled at her as she put her hat and her shawl on. You handed her the basket and she left out the door, down the street and to the market.

"Hey, Y/n?" You heard Calcifer say. "Hmm?" His flame snapped and crackled. "I hate to ask this of you, but do you mind getting me some more wood? I'm kinda out.." You smiled gently. "Sure thing. I stored some extra over here." You dragged a few pieces of oak out from a small storage space in the wall and set them next to the fire demon. "Ooo, oak. My favorite. Thank you, Y/n!" He dragged a piece into his mouth and crackled happily.

You turned and came face to face with Howl. He seemed drained and his face and clothes were stained with dirt. "Howl! Oh my God! Are you alright??" You exclaimed, cupping his face. He leaned into your touch. "Your hands are soft." He muttered. His voice was hoarse. "Let's get you to bed, love. Okay?" You whispered, placing your arm around his waist. "Cal, mind heating up some water tomorrow? He's gonna need a hot bath." You smiled at Calcifer. "Yeah. Bo problem. Take care of him please!"

You had always been fascinated with the trinkets and things that decorated the wizards room. You took of his jacket and folded it neatly at the end of the bed. You left for a moment before coming back with a bowl of warm water and washcloth.

As you cleaned the dirt off his face, you hummed a lullaby that your mother sang to you. Once convinced that he would sleep throughout the afternoon and the night, you stood to leave.

But a hand on your wrist stopped you. You looked down to see his sapphire eyes droopy, but still open. "Stay, please." You tried to protest. "Howl-"

"Please."

You frowned. Then smiled softly. "Alright." You sat down next to him and propped your legs on the bed as well. Your back lay against the headboard and Howl's arms lay around your waist.

"Thank you..." You barely heard him whisper. "Anytime, darling." As you began to doze off, you felt soft, sweet lips press against your own. "Goodnight, pretty boy." The comforting voice of Howl said, escorting you into your dreams with the ghost of his lips still against yours.

~The End(Unless you want another one that is! You'd just have to give me a promot to go with it.)~

#Howls moving castle x male reader #Howl x male reader #Studio ghibli x male reader #Studio ghibli fiction #howls moving castle #x male reader #Fluff #Love #Thanks lovely Anon!!#writing #Fics #Fanfictio #studio ghibli fanfiction

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cozygoblin · 1 year

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My pure mesh pullover!! I just love it !! And also my Sophie shawl !

#knitting #knitblr #knit #handmade #kötés #knitters of tumblr #yarn #crafts #patterns #cute #shawl #pullover #cool girl

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glauconaryue · 1 month

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Scenes from transprom

I loved my real prom because yeah I was the outcast and yeah the ritual was dumb but at that time I stopped giving a single flying fuck and just decided to show up as a freak and get wasted. I wore the most eclectic messy outfit and wasn't even in the group picture and just danced with myself. That's a part of who I am, but so is trans prom. I'm not going to make a drawing because it wouldn't be half as cute as everything you people posted before. I'd rather do what I do as a writer and write, so here we go.

I'm going to trans prom too. I'm wearing a black, sparkling dress with a twirly skirt, a lot of spooky jewellery and makeup which is somewhere between dark and cute. My hair is long, my legs are smooth, and I'm still only 18. That means it's 2001 I think, and I wonder who else is graduating this year. Most trans people on tumblr seem to have graduated after 2015 anyway. I wonder who I could ask out, if I have to ask someone out, and I get cold sweat again, I don't want to be the one to start things and then feel I'm being too forward and making girls uncomfortable with who I am.

But this is trans prom, and it's okay to be gay, and suddenly I get a call from my long lost sister Turtledove, who had given up on transitioning after she was outed and disowned. But she's back for trans prom, she's my partner even, as sisters, as friends. She looks so pretty in her green satin dress and matching shawl that for a moment I forget myself, I feel cold and nervous not knowing what to do with so much feels. But she doesn't hesitate and pins an orchid onto my cleavage as I pin one on hers.

And as we get to the prom, not only is oneesan and all the women my age there, 18 again. Everyone is 18 and everyone is here. All the people I had interacted with, the ones I write daily with but are in Australia, the ones that I lost contact with for unknown reasons, the trans girls and trans boys and enbies, trans boys wearing suits and trans boys wearing the prettiest dresses just because they like it, trans girls who were so, so angry and full of conflicting discourse all the time but are now just having fun and feeling loved and beautiful. Me and my daughters are the same age, and to them it is just two or three years, so they barely feel the change, but to me it is a lifetime

I still don't know what year it is, or what country we're in. There's a new jiggy song by Will Smith and some old merengue by Juan Luis Guerra and then there's Dorian Electra being flamboyant and suddenly we're back to the Spice Girls, but they are no longer singing about the handful of cis girls who thought they were better than us. The Spice Girls are singing about us, and everyone who joins in and feels like a girl is a part of the song and a girl for the moment, and some continue to be girls and some change genders completely the moment the song is over.

Even when others leave, I stay on the dancefloor, people look at me and perceive me, they smile, we truly see each other. My eyes meet with those of another girl across the hall, and although she, too, is nervous, she looks back at me. Slowly we come closer and hold hands as SOPHIE starts singing It's Okay to Cry. Slowly we get closer and hold each other, and there's nothing more to be afraid of.

#trans prom #transprom #my writing #transgender #nonbinary #lesbian #queer experience

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tortoisesshells · 7 months

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Writing Pattern Game

Thank you so much for tagging me, @shoshiwrites <3

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

untitled da:i ficlet, inquisitor in Haven

It wasn’t that the sun set any earlier in the mountains than it did in similar latitudes; the sky stayed day-bright, hours after Haven fell into darkness.

untitled da:i ficlet, inquisitor & blackwall in Haven

“There’s no mystery to it,” said Sophy, around the pins in her mouth, “Do you know how many Trevalyen children there are?”

untitled da:i ficlet, inquisitor & party in Crestwood

“So, Hero,” said Varric, leaning back in his chair, as Blackwall threw another log on the fire, “Wish you were back in Skyhold yet?”

untitled da:i ficlet, inquisitor & blackwall in Skyhold

“Respectfully, my lady Trevalyen,” said Blackwall, speaking between swings of a maul, the thud of split wood falling against the warm soil, “Solas – or even Pavus, or Madame de Fer – would be better able to answer such a question.”

Who something lost, the seeking for Is all that's left them, now - (1899, pre- Clémence/Jérôme)

“It’s unusual, that’s all I’m saying,” said one of the men at the oars to another, shivering.

half-built and half-rotted (potc: dmc, 5 sentence prompt fic, james norrington in tortuga)

Tortuga had been a new place, but all new places could be learned: a small island and a smaller port, half-built and half-rotted, alive in the same way that bloody-faced vultures and mushrooms were.

some familiar thing missing, or some unfamiliar thing at home (potc:dmc, 5 sentence prompt fic, elizabeth swann cannot figure james norrington out)

Truthfully, she never expected to see James Norrington again, and in some ways Elizabeth is not sure she has: there is a man in a hammock who answers to that name, who has a captain’s coat, and the same sharp-tongued disdain for what irritates him – but (and here, when she has thought on it, she has struggled) either there is some familiar thing missing, or some unfamiliar thing at home.

stood in the twilight (timeless, five sentence prompt fic, lucy preston and garcia flynn contemplate the sublime, and frostbite)

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” Lucy asked, thinking she would have gestured to the fading light in the sky if she could have borne unwrapping her heavy wool shawl for the half-second it would have taken to point – but they did not call 1816 The Year Without A Summer for nothing.

irrevocably altered (potc:cotbp, five sentence prompt fic, elizabeth swann at odds with her old life)

There was comfort, if only in the physical attributes of the King’s House in Port Royal: her feather-soft mattress, food not gone rotted in the cask, windows wide to every wandering breeze – things which Elizabeth had always understood, vaguely and without much in comparison, to be luxuries.

a pass-port for her presence (mercy street, five sentence prompt fic, henry hopkins struggles with emma green's indirect words)

It was easier to know those you didn’t than those you did, Henry Hopkins had thought at some distant, drunken point in the past – a practice as straightforward as prayer, to copy a man’s words exactly to send to his family, or to recall who and which had requested some concession or another.

Patterns:

A prompt specifically for five sentences brings out the worst in me, length-of-sentence-wise.

I love dialogue as a starter, particularly "Indirect Observation," Specific Description of Speaker/Speaker's Actions, "Indirect Observation, Continued And/Or Refined."

I think I try to establish who the POV character is pretty quickly - maybe too quickly?

what is it with me writing fics where someone's chopping firewood, or fussing with firewood. i'm not that cold all the time.

Tagging: @boltlightning, @johnbly, @theonlyredcar, @aloveforjaneausten, @jomiddlemarch, @sagiow, @enchi-elm, @ramiroangel, @admiraleyk, and anyone else who wants to play!

#fic #my fic #polkaknox talks #further questions: why do i have two fics in here where character a (has killed at least one person in the past & will carry the shame;#with them until they die; will scupper their relationship with character b over it) chopping firewood; while character b tries;#after their own fashion; to figure out what's going on with character a and build a bridge. so to speak.#that's the real pattern here folks.

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