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shotmrmiller · 3 days

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Simon doesn't care how he comes. He doesn't care if it's your smaller hand wrapped around his fattened cock, tugging it with a gentle twist, smearing the bead of arousal that's welled up from his slit with your thumb. Doesn't care that he usually fucks his fist roughly after a hard day's work with blood still crusted on his fingernails, hard enough to ache. The way you sit beside him, the soft swell of your breasts pressed against the corded muscle of his arm, murmuring words of praise that have his cheeks alight with a rosy glow—

He doesn't care if you use your mouth (you asked, ofc) your mouth is warm around him, the gummy inside of your cheeks slippery— the constricting back of your throat even more so. He sits still, like a good boy, not bucking his hips up, not pushing your head down to take as much of him as you can.

Doesn't care if you make him fuck your thighs— intercrural, you'd called it. How could he when your soft thighs are so smooth and pliable, enveloping his leaky cock with their warmth? Certainly doesn't mind when he glides his head along your slick folds, occasionally catching your swollen clit, hearing your little sharp intakes of breath.

Simon doesn't care where he comes, either. If it's a hand job, he spurts hot, viscous pleasure onto his pudgy stomach, coating the dark trail of hair below his navel and making a mess of your hand. (If you lick his come off your fingers, he's asking you to grow old with him asap)

If it's a blow job, he'll give you a heads-up with a rumbled, "'m, close, so close—" and that's your cue to either pull away, let him paint your cheeks with his spend, or swallow every single drop. (Or let it drip onto his jeans, none of it matters just don't stop)

He'll slicken your inner thighs with his sticky cum, scoop up some of it with his callused fingers, and slather it over your puffy pussy, using it as lube to rub you to completion.

So, when you casually ask him how he feels about a breeding kink as if you were commenting on the weather, his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. Are you asking him for a kid?

But you don't notice how his pupils dilate a fraction or how the skin around his eyes tightens, the corners forming small creases as you continue. "Because I'd been thinking," a small pause, "to spice things up a little—" before he even gets a word in, you raise your hands up in a calming gesture. "Not like there's anything wrong with what we're doing now."

There's a subtle shake to your hands and the grooves of your palms catch the light. Sweaty. You're nervous. This isn't just about him filling you with his cum. He's already done that before— pressed his tip right into your swollen entrance mere moments before finishing. he lets you gather your thoughts, unsnag the words caught in your throat.

And when you finally steel your nerves and say what you want to say (garble, more like) the shrill ringing in his ears is deafening. "You wan' me to wear a rubber 'nd let you take it off." Had he misheard?

The way your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, gaze lowered to the ground, your fingers twisting and turning, uncertain. So he hadn't. Well. How could he say no? Granted, he doesn't understand it, but for his girl? Anything.

He comes to understand it the very first time it happens.

Rolling on the rubber hadn't been different. nor the way he gently stretched you with one finger, two. The spit he'd used as lube to cause you as little discomfort as possible mingling with your own slick, dripping down his rugged knuckles. He takes his time as always, slipping between your spread thighs, watching your face twist, kiss-swollen lips part as he sinks into your heat. He goes slow, hearing you hiss between your teeth, your blunt nails sinking into his chest. He'll have red, angry welts later alongside his dog tags. Claimed by both duty and his little love. "Marked like property," he'd joked once.

You hadn't found it so funny. (Johnny got it though.)

Even with the very small difference in sensation, you're still the best thing he's ever felt. You take him like you're meant for him and maybe you are, but he smothers that train of thought quickly with a heavy hand lest he finish when the fun's just begun.

He feels you shift, even with his body weight that presses down on you with the gravity of a boulder, and he sinks to the root— like a pebble falling into still waters. Your nails tear skin, draw blood. The biting sting of it sends a shiver that sweeps over his goosepimpled skin, arousal tangling in his spine. He bucks his hips in reflex, hard enough to jolt you upward. The discomfort on your face quickly melts away, the sweetened burn of his thick cock prying your tender walls apart finally bleeding into white-hot pleasure.

Simon thrusts again, this time deliberately. Again. And again. He keeps them shallow, dragging the ribbed edges of the condom along your sensitive nerves, gently trying to coax a lazy orgasm out of you— the ones that always leave you syrupy and warm.

He focuses on you. Swirls your peaked nipples with his thumb, nestles his face in the crook of your neck, warm breath fanning over your heated skin. Simon licks a hot stripe over your fluttering pulse, presses a chaste kiss on it, nips your sensitive skin with a little too much pressure when you squeeze down around him—

Cheeky minx.

He snaps his hips, hard enough to rattle your spine, hard enough to hear the way the oxygen is ripped from your lungs. Simon keeps at it, resolute in getting you to the edge, dragging you with him, taking you over.

And then he hears you slur out a couple of words through your gasps. "C'ndom," you mewl, "the condom, off."

Right. He peels himself off of you. He'd almost forgotten —

You're impatient, pushing him away with your bare feet on his chest until he pulls out with a pop, trembling fingers reaching his twitching cock. The rubber comes off after a moment and while he's distracted by the creamy slick coating it, you're already putting him back in you, and your cunt feels sublime.

Divinity. He feels intoxicated.

The pleasure he felt before feels muted now, in comparison. Dull, almost. You feel hot, almost burning— swallowing him up, wet, so wet. The way your walls flutter around him jumbles his thoughts, tangles his tongue. He grinds down onto you with grit teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to keep the searing coil in his gut from unspooling, but he fears it's a losing battle. Beads of sweat roll down the side of his face as he fucks into your tight cunt with a hunger that borders on desperation.

He can see, and hear, that it's different for you too. Your keens and mewls are loud, nails scoring trails of red down his back. Simon leans back a bit, enough to let you watch his cock split you open, strings of sticky arousal connecting between you two. When he changes angle, aiming for your (and his) favorite spot with precision, the squeal you let out stiffens his spine.

Simon needs to hear it again. He grabs you by the cheeks, forcing you to look at him with those pretty, glassy eyes that glimmer with tears. Saliva pools in his mouth at the thought of tasting salt. "Like tha'?" The delicate strands of your eyelashes are clumped together with overwhelming sensation.

When you don't answer, he gives your hood a gentle tap, striking right above your clit. "I asked you a question." He grunts when your pussy almost strangles his cock at his gravelly tone. Simon will remember that for later.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes, god, just like that." As a reward, he uses his thumb to draw tight little circles over your pearl, fucking you with his full weight behind every thrust. The blissful expression on your features, spit glistening in the corner of your lips, your hand flat, fingers spread wide over your lower belly as if to feel him from the outside— it's enough to almost toss him over that crumbling edge.

But he takes more. Selfish, greedy. Takes what's his with fervor; wholly, unapologetically. "This," he pushes until he can go no more, his tip meeting a firm resistance, "is better than everythin' I've ever had." Maybe it's a stupid thing to say, right here when he's rearranging your guts around to make room for his fat cock, but he's drunk off of you.

There's no thinking clearly with the slick noises echoing in the stuffy room. There's no seeing clearly when his world has narrowed to a single point of contact.

You're squeezing around him like a vise, tight enough that his nerve endings prick with pain. But he keeps going. He takes, he gives, he yearns to watch you unfurl at the edges forever, on his fingertips, on his tongue, his cock but you—

You are both his ecstasy and ruin. He can see it in the way the corners of your pretty mouth curl upward, teasing, eyes glinting with mischief, with the same kind of trouble that ensnared him into your orbit that one lousy night.

"Come in me."

Bloody fucking trouble.

(He wants all of it. The you who'll complain about the hard surface of the kitchen table he'll bend you over. The purple marks he'll pepper on your neck, your collarbone. The you that fights tooth and nail over him eating beans on toast.)

He watches you with half-lidded eyes as his fingers and his cock toss you overboard into the tumultuous sea of euphoria and then— when you're a drooling, limp mess— only then, does he finally surrender, balls drawn up painfully tight,

and fills you to the brim, until there's no more room left in your swollen, greedy pussy. Until it spills from your hole in thick rivulets, until there's no more of him left to give.

(He doesn't do rings. It'll get the both of you killed should he ever get caught. Maybe a tattoo for him and a band for you? Gotta text Price in the morning.) <- oh what barebacking does to a simple man such as he.

this was supposed to have been a 600 word drabble hello. he's clingy and squishy and so sickeningly in his emotions.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #simon riley x you

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jessiethewitchzard · 4 hours

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Seeing @thydungeongal constantly wrestling with people interpreting her posts about D&D in ways that seem completely alien to me has convinced me that there are actually multiple completely distinct activities both being referred to as "playing D&D" Before we begin, I want to stress that I'm not saying one of these groups is Playing The Game Wrong or anything, but there seems to be a lot of confusion and conflict caused by people not being aware of the distinction. In fact, either one works just fine if everyone's on the same page. So far, I think I've identified at least two main groups. And nobody seems to realize the distinction between these groups even exists. The first group of people think of "Playing D&D" as, well, more or less like any other board game. Players read the whole rulebook all the way through, all the players follow the instructions, and the gameplay experience is determined by what the rules tell each player to do. This group thinks of the mechanics as, not exactly the *whole* game, but certainly the fundamental skeleton that everything else is built on top of. People in the second group think of "Playing D&D" as referring to, hanging out with their friends, collaboratively telling a story inspired by some of the elements in the rulebooks, maybe rolling some dice to see what happens when they can't decide. This group thinks of the mechanics of the game as, like... a spice to sprinkle on top of the story to mix things up. (if you belong to this second group, and think I'm explaining it poorly, please let me know, because I'm kind of piecing things together from other people saying things I don't understand and trying to reverse engineer how they seem to be approaching things.) I think this confusion is exacerbated by the fact that Wizards of the Coast markets D&D as if these are the same thing. They emphatically are not. the specific rules laid out of the D&D rulebooks actually direct players to tell a very specific kind of story. You can tell other stories if you ignore those rules (which still counts as "playing D&D" under the second definition, but doesn't under the first)And I think people in both groups are getting mad because they assume that everyone is also using their definition. For example, there's a common argument that I've seen play out many times that goes something like this:

A: "How do I mod D&D to do [insert theme here]?" B: "D&D is really not built for that, you should play [other TTRPG] that's designed for it instead" A: "But I don't want to learn a whole new game system!" B: "It will be easier to just learn a whole new system than mod D&D to do that." A: "whatever, I'll just mod D&D on my own" And I think where this argument comes from is the two groups described above completely talking past each other. No one understands what the other person is trying to say. From A's perspective, as a person in the second group, it sounds like A: "Anyone have some fun inspirations for telling stories about [insert theme here]?" B: "You can't sit around a table with your friends and tell a story about that theme! That's illegal." A: "But we want to tell a story about this theme!" B: "It's literally impossible to do that and you're a dumb idiot baby for even thinking about it." A: "whatever, jerk, I'll figure it out on my own."

--- Whereas, from B's perspective, the conversation sounds like A: "How do I change the rules of poker to be chess, and not be poker?" B: "uhhh, just play chess?" A: "But I already know how to player poker! I want to play poker, but also have it be chess!" B: "what the hell are you talking about? What does that even mean. They're completely different games." A: "I'm going to frankenstein these rules together into some kind of unplayably complex monster and you can't stop me!" ---

So both people end up coming away from the conversation thinking the other person is an idiot. And really, depending on how you concieve of what it means to "play D&D" what is being asked changes considerably. If you're only planning to look through the books for cool story inspiration, maybe borrow a cool little self contained sub-system here or there, then yeah, it's very possible to steal inspiration for your collaborative story from basically anywhere. Maybe some genres are kind of an awkward fit together, but you can make anything work with a little creativity.

If, however, you are thinking of the question in terms of frankensteining two entire board games together, then it becomes a massively difficult or even outright nonsensical idea. For example, for skill checks, the game Shadowrun has players roll a pool of several d6 at once, then count up how many rolled above a target value to see how well a character succeeded at a task. The whole game is full of specific rules about adding or removing dice from the pool, effects happening if you roll doubles, rerolling only some of the dice, and all sorts of other things that simply do not translate to rolling a single d20 for skill checks. On a basic level, the rules of the games work very differently. Trying to make them compatible would be much harder than just learning a new game from scratch. Now, neither of these approaches is exactly *wrong*, I guess, but personally, I find the rules of TTRPGs to be fascinating and worth taking the time to engage with all the weird little nuances and seeing what shakes out. Also, the first group, "TTRPG as fancy board game" is definitely the older and more widespread one. I kind of get the impression that the second group largely got into D&D through actual play podcasts, but I don't have any actual data to back that up. So, if you're in the second group, who thinks of D&D as basically a context for collaborative storytelling first and a game second, please let me know if I'm wildly misunderstanding how you approach D&D. Because I'm pretty sure it would save us a whole lot of stupid misunderstandings.

#aj oc #dungeons and dragons #D&D #ttrpg

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moonkoiluv · 2 days

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Do you ever think Lance gets insecure about being "too much"?

Too loud, too excited, too passionate, too - everything? People are constantly telling him to quiet down and relax, that he's being too much and just needs to stop. Eventually, he starts to quiet down and reel it in a bit but constantly feels sad he has to cover it up.

Then there's Keith who's haunted by the quiet. After his Dad died it was just always quiet. People didn't talk much around him, left him alone, kids didn't play with him. There was always just an uncomfortable quietness around him.

Now they're in space, trapped together in the castle of lions, which really isn't that big once you've been pacing for weeks, months.

Lance wanders off on his own after Pidge kicks him out of the lab and Hunk kicks him out of the kitchen. He walks for hours just talking to himself and being loud since there's no one around to see. No one to tell him he's too much.

Keith also wanders off on his own. Everyone on the castle-ship thinks he just likes to be quiet, so they usually leave him alone. Shiro is a bit of an exception, but there's only so much time he can spend with Keith before he needs to do something important for the war effort or whatever. So Keith wanders. He ends up stealing a pair of headphones from Pidge and listening to music while he walks, it's one of the only times he let's his guard down because it's the castle-ship. It's so big there's no one around to see him or judge him, he can just exist.

One day, Lance walks along, laughing to himself about some alien pun he made (that really isn't that funny). He decides to take a different turn today. Why not? After a while he hears something, a slight twang of an old country guitar and a deep voice. He goes to investigate because who would be out here and who would listen to that?

He rounds the corner, and there's Keith, headphones blaring, eyes closed, walking in time with the twang of the guitar. Lance hides back behind the wall, scared that Keith would see him.

Keith's completely in his own world, the voices of Jane Carter and Johnny Cash ringing in his ears. Jackson is a great song, he hums along every time it plays. One of Keith's favorites from his Dad's old records, it's a miracle that he could get it digitized and out here in space. He lets his eyes drift open as he rounds the corner, and suddenly, he's face to face with Lance.

"AHH- Lance, what the hell?!" He shouts, why was Lance out here? He's walked this hall a hundred times before and never heard the other boy.

"I didn't do anything! Don't yell at me mullet-" Lance leans into Keith's face with a scowl, "I have every right to be here is that a problem?"

Keith frowns for a second and pauses his music, his mood spoiled anyways. "No that's not a problem. You can be anywhere I don't care, just why here? No one ever walks here."

"I just decided to go for a stroll. What do you OWN this hallway?" Lance leans back but his face is still in a fixed frown. It seems that's the only face he ever gives Keith.

"No Lance I-" He sighs, "you were hiding around the corner. Why were you hiding?"

Lance stutters over his words for a second before answering, "I just heard something and thought the castle could be haunted again-"

Keith scowls, "Lance that-" he sighs again "nevermind." He puts the headphones around his neck, the phone in his pocket and turns to leave.

"WAIT!" Keith turns around, "what uh- what were you listening to? I didn't know you listened to anything other than the sounds of- of- ... emo-ness" he looks so proud of himself while Keith just rolls his eyes.

"Johnny Cash."

"Johnny who?"

Keith pauses for a second. Lance could make fun of him, laugh and leave him on his own again but Keith knew deep down the other boy wouldn't do that. Out of everyone, Lance was the only one who actively sought him out to talk. It may be mostly teasing and half-assed insults but it took away that heavy quiet.

So Keith hands over the headphones for Lance to listen. That's how it all starts. The next day they happen to bump into eachother again, Keith shows Lance a new song and Lance talks about the music he grew up with. Every day they have a routine, they bump into eachother and walk together.

Lance hops around from topic to topic, and Keith opens up about things a little bit at a time. Lance was never too much for Keith, and Lance took away that quiet.

They take walks every day together on the far end of the castle-ship while they're in space. Just to pass the time. No matter what the team sees or thinks, Lance and Keith are a lot closer than they know.

They're never too much for eachother, it's never too quiet or too loud. It's just right.

Note: this ended up being SO MUCH longer than I thought it'd be 😅 please let me know if you like this and want more cause I actually enjoyed writing this 👍

#vld #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld lance #vld keith #lance mcclain #keith kogane #keith and lance #klance headcanon #vld klance

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drdemonprince · 3 days

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in regards to the concept of abled people not existing/abled folks being expected to do more in relationships with disabled folks... You make some good points about us all being disabled in different ways and not recognizing it, but I still feel that there's quite a vsst gap materially between say, an ADHDer who can lift and push 50lbs easily/without pain and one who can't. And i have run into big roadblocks in relationships with other lefty types as the person who can't! And I think that expectation should be talked about and accepted more because I know a lot of "leftists" who would never think to apply this to stuff like doing the dishes because they're hellbent on everyone doing Equal Amounts. It's all fun and IG graphics about disability justice until they decide that youre Nonbinary roomate named sock who doesnt do the dishes etc etc , then see yourselves to the door!

You're absolutely right that there are differences in what various disabled people can do and the privileges that affords. It's glaringly obvious as a problem in Autism spaces, where people who can mask and speak like me are listened to and trusted and frequently talk over people who are nonverbal and cannot mask.

Even there, though, there are massive problems in attempting to rank-order someone's level of ability rather than just speaking specifically about these things in terms of privileges and oppressions. People assume I'm capable of all kinds of things I am not capable of, for instance, or hold me to ableist standards of productivity and ability because I "seem more capable. And Autistic people whose disabilities are more obvious have the opposite problem -- they are denied agency, presumed to be incompetent, not permitted to take on challenges they could find stimulating and worthwhile, and are dehumanized, etc.

And so where I'm getting with this is that we can't determine from the outside what a person is capable of doing, or what they should be capable of doing. It's not that far of a logical path to go from saying "Oh, this ADHDer is not physically disabled, they can lift 50 pounds, they can do a lot of things that I can't do" to saying "This ADHDer didn't unpack all our luggage for two weeks after our trip, they are lazy and not pulling their weight."

Someone might have the literal physical ability to do something in terms of strength or mobility, but not have the ability to complete a task because of the disabilities they do have (ADHD, in this case), and even if we are disabled ourselves we may be primed to see those people as lazy, uncaring, not pulling their weight, and all kinds of ableist interpretations.

So broadly I get your point, it is undoubtedly true some of us have abilities that others don't. but I think there's no way to put this idea into practice beyond just trusting people when they say they cannot do a thing, and not passing harsh judgement against people we think ought to be able to do a thing but don't (and maybe can't). This goes back to the original point of the discussion -- wondering why so many other people seem to fail disabled people and not show up for them.

To your second point, about a lot of even leftist people bringing therapy and instagram infographic "boundary setting" advice to their relationships and expecting all chores to be divided up equally, yeah that's a big problem and it's been a big problem in interpersonal relationships for many decades at this point. Most people overestimate the portion of the chores that they do, underestimate the work their partners or housemates do, and aspire to "equity" in a way that drives them absolutely crazy with score-keeping and resentment. There's a lot of research on how that outlook absolutely poisons heterosexual relationships and has done so pretty much ever since women started getting the ability to say no to a chore. It's a big problem of individualism under capitalism at its root, I think.

And the social change needed is much the same thing -- people need to learn to actually trust their loved ones when they say they cannot do the dishes, cannot clean the gutters, can't drop off the rent check, etc. I think a disability justice politics of raising everyone's class consciousness regarding their own disabilities and others is the way to go, and a massive strengthening of community ties.

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lil-binuu · 2 days

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I was listening to Saku’s birthday stream and everyone got really emotional 🥹

Some of the things he said were really touching, and i just wanted to share his words so y’all can understand how flipping hard he works and how much he cares about his work, especially because Saku is one of the realest content creators out there.

I hope he doesn’t mind me posting this, Saku you are such an inspiration and mean more to us than you may think. Keep doing what you’re doing because it’s bloody fabulous. You have touched so many hearts and will continue to as you grow and become more and more recognised for your amazing work.

…

“Honestly, a part of me, earlier on this month, I was honestly doubting myself as a creator. I was really doubting myself as a creator, hence why i’m taking a break. But, I feel like i’ve gotten to this point where.. It’s not like i feel like i’ve run out of ideas, it’s that I lost purpose in what i was making. I couldn’t find it. And i kind of had it in the beginning, where i was just really eager to create and learn, but i think that i lost my purpose with content creation. And i think, having you all here, reading all of your messages, it’s… *laughs* it’s crazy to think that i think i’ll be able to find it again, because of..because of all of you.

I was really exhausted, i mean i am exhausted, but i was exhausted *laughs* because i was just, go go all the time. I had no breaks, if i was making an audio i would brainstorm it, i would outline it and then i would record it. Then things could go wrong, it could be longer than expected, so then i would have to make a completely new one in a shorter time frame, and get that out much quicker which would be more stress, but then if something went wrong with that one then i’d have to make another one and it was just on, and on and on and .. there are things that don’t work out behind the scenes that no one knows about. There’s things that i don’t talk about that happens, there’s like, i would have to change things very quickly, i would have to change the story. The thing is, when it comes to the work I do, I am so particular about the stories that i make, that it hurts me. When i need to change things, with the story, because it’s something that i just have to do, and even though, y’all might be like, you won’t mind what i make, you won’t mind what character you get or what story you get, you won’t mind if it’s set in an AU, all that stuff, it matters to me. It matters that I put out quality content, it matters that I’m providing you what I know is the best that i can provide.

And when I can’t do that, it .. goes very bad for me, let’s just put it that way. I.. overanalyse ..”

(rev: oh it bugs the hell out of him.)

“Yeah, it does. Because i know.. I know what you expect of me and when I can’t give that to you, I get .. very anxious and I disappoint myself. And the biggest thing is, I don’t want to disappoint y’all. That is the biggest thing. So I always have to make sure. I’m like, okay: it’s even down to..and it might *laughs* it’s probably ridiculous if you hear it, but even- even down to like, making sure all of the sound effects are completely right. Like if someone is coming into the left side of the room then i have to be like ‘oh, every single sound effect has to be the exact left pan because if it’s not then they’ll notice!’ you know, I’m that particular about my work.

And then it’s like, all of the different sound effects like uhh, if I make (trying to remember what it was) in asirel’s audio, i can’t remember what it was or what i was doing or holding, but i had one item in my hand which wasn’t the item that was actually in the audio but I was like ‘they’re gonna notice if i use this as a sound effect, and it’s gonna take them out of the immersion’ you know? It’s.. i think it’s something that i have to work on for myself.. how, engrossed i get with my work, because i do.

Umm, but.. I truly, truly care about the work that I put out. And i think it’s come to a point where I’m starting to question it, but reading all of your messages today has kind of helped me see a glimpse of why I do this. And, i guess, look outside of me… And look outside of why i do it for myself and more about what other people are getting out of it. You know?

Yeah.. *sighs* I love y’all. So so much. I can’t put it into words. I really can’t. So thank you.

Ugh. YALL MAKE ME EMOTIONAL! FUCK! OH MY GOD!

(thank you sleepybunnex for the bits :D)

This would be the one circumstance where I would hug y’all. I would. I would absolutely just have a huge hug, i feel like i need to hug someone right now.”

(rev: that’s why one day, CRUMPET PLUSHIES!!)

…

“I feel like that’s where i thrive, making stories, you know? It’s what I love doing.”

(saku ends up hugging a biscoff with his mouth)

…

“Literally like, a hundred. A hundred people from all around the world, are here to celebrate my thirtieth birthday. Like when you actually say it out loud, it is insane to me. But the fact that y’all are here, it just.. blows my mind and… I could not be.. I could not be happier, I really couldn’t.”

(and then kieran makes saku cry again with his sweet comment 🥹)

anyway.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAKU!! WE LOVE YOU!!!

#sakuverse #zsakuva #zsakuvafandom #happy birthday #we love you

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itsonlydana · 3 days

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Hey hey, saw ur requests were open for Thranduil and knew I needed to submit something!

Could you do a Thranduil x fem human reader where she braids her hair without knowing the significance for elves? They both have feelings for each other but neither has said anything, supper fluffy ending y’know?

Thank you in advance and have a great day!! :))

Beautiful misunderstandings | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem human!reader 👑

You simply wanted to accept an invitation to a celebration, but something about you makes the elves literally drop at your feet. Can Thranduil resolve this misunderstanding, or will he be affected as well?

tags/warnings: just lots and lots of fluff, no warnings

word count: 3,6k

an: to be honest, most of what i wrote is my own headcanons because i did not find lots about hair culture with the elves.. so please: educate me! Are there some hcs in the fandom? :)

+ masterlist + rules + 🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

The forests of Greenwood greet you with open flames of torches licking up their hot tongues against the dark skies, coloring the path the horse trots along in their amber lights and the wooden smoke that fills the air. Evenly distributed along the pathway they light up just enough of Greenwood that it doesn't take away from the sight that awaits you at the end, where the trees give way to an equally decorated bridge and the foliage thins out enough for you to take in the tall arches framing the open doors of the Great Elvenking's halls.

You have already been a guest for many of Thranduil's festivities ever since he established trading relations with your small fisher town. Due to the bond that twirls around the two of you in some unfathomable and complex manner, you also know that nothing he ever does is anything but grande and imposing.

Still, you can't help but push your lower lip in between your teeth.

Not once have you gotten the impression of standing out more than the difference in race and status already marked as obvious factors, neither Thranduil nor his elves treated you like you felt right now:

Completely out of your known waters.

The elvish customs were far too many for you to know them all and you always try your best to consider all and everything that you've learned in the two summers you could consider yourself an acquaintance to Thranduil. Whatever form this acquaintanceship took on is another worry, or rather, another unknown that you can't exactly express to anyone.

It's nearly as confusing as the steps of the dance you studied in your room before you left this morning, a step forward and two back, Thranduil asking you to accompany him to his dances but never dancing with you.

Tonight, you want to change this predicament of always ending up in the arms of another elf while the one you yearned for watches from the sidelines! You didn't work this hard for the fabric that hugs your figure in a beautiful dress for nothing and even if the fabric isn't as shiny or light as the dresses the elves wear and the stitches marked your fingertips with the evidence of the labor and long nights, you are proud of the garment.

The wind plays in the hem as you emerge from the guarded forest and its thick and dense foliage and it winds itself around your legs after you dismount your horse. A quick kiss to his muzzle, followed by an exhale of warm, familiar breath and you hesitantly let a servant take him away, mumbling a soft "Thank you" while you stay where you are and watch until they disappear around a tree.

Nervously you start walking up to the bridge, the reckless water under it crashing against the stone walls and it goes along with the blood that pumps high and fast through your body and rushes in your ears. The atmosphere is loaded, sizzling under the nearly suffocating heat that's only bearable in the cool shadows of the palace in front of you so you don't waste another second.

You brush off the hood of your riding coat, smoothing out some fly-away hairs that escaped the braid you carefully weaved earlier this day as you duck your head in reverence to be allowed in these sacred halls.

Whispers catch up to you from outside, a breeze dancing through leaves.

When you lift your chin again, you find that it's not the air affecting nature but rather your presence halting nearly all the elves that gathered on the first bridge inside the caves.

They say elves are graceful and purposeful in their movements – the way dozens of eyes are locked onto you and lips move in not-so-silent murmurs defiles that claim though.

It's nothing you haven't encountered before, the talks behind your back that came along with Thranduil's attention shining down on you like the sun – hot, engulfing you completely and rendering you breathless as well as a bit sweaty at times whenever he looks at you, and you learned how to handle it. His attention brought forth a lot of awareness of his folk to the woman who visits Thranduil just as often as he rides into your town and becomes the topic of conversations for weeks. What's a girl to do except accept that a King never comes alone?

You're used to elves watching you, most of them in respect. Thranduil's authority radiates onto you, as well as the protection that he swore would lay upon you as long as he's there to give out orders.

The first elf whose eyes you questioningly meet drops to his knees in the same instant, barely a breath of time passing by.

A gasp leaves your throat.

Words do not follow. They remain echoing in your head, pushed back by the spectacle that spread before you like wildfire. Too fast, too much.

Within seconds of you entering, the buzz of lowered voices dies down as elf after elf either bows or completely meets the ground they are standing on. The spectacle is confusing and throws you completely off; this reaction is nowhere near what you've experienced before and you do the first thing that comes to mind to handle this totally unsuspected confrontation of elves bowing to you, a human from no known family and nothing to your name other than the weight it carries on Thranduil's tongue.

The only thing you manage to stammer is: "Good evening," and a high-pitched, "Thank you?" before you take your legs into your hand and dash over the bridge.

Thoughts as unstoppable as you run through your mind while you navigate the curving halls of the underground palace, the stonewalls not cool enough to diminish the heat that sits low in your neck, growing the longer you think about all that has happened between Thranduil and you and how it's not much more than nothing but a close alliance of human and elf.

One that you hope would take on a different turn, because some of the actions by Thranduil could be considered friendlier than one would treat an ally or friend. You think back to all the gifts you have received, the white gems for example that, barely bigger than your nails but woven into the upper part of your braid, reflect the light and throw silver dots against the walls that lead you to the point Thranduil had asked you to meet him in one of his many letters.

The route involves more encounters with more elves, some bow more subtly, their hands on their chest in a greeting that you do know, and some others, mostly those who've already fallen in barrels of wine and are less sophisticated in their movements in their drunken state who repeat the word "bereth" as if it's a prayer in a language that's far beyond you to make out right now.

At the end of the hallway, you make out the back of a familiar blonde and even from afar you notice the resemblance that Thranduil's silver circlet has to the silver ribbon you have woven into your hair in a similar way and height how his circlet would look placed on your head.

Is this what brought such uproar to the elves? Have you accidentally copied their king?

"Thranduil!" you call out, his name lacking any title though not out of disrespect. You have the highest respect for the King of the Elves and slip a "Your Majesty" rather often into conversations because you know how much he favors his name from your tongue and teasing him like that brings a joy to you that you can't explain anyway else then:

Hearing him laugh and smile or roll his eyes at your antics fuels the love you harbor for him.

Now is not the time for teasing chit-chat, you are desperate to find out if you have actually misstepped by presenting his gifts like this at a festival that's solely about him.

He turns at the sound of your voice and, oh lord, even his eyes widen as soon as they land on you and you want to perish rather than step any closer but the hurry in your legs and the nervousness in your stomach makes it impossible to do anything else but run to the one soul in this world that brings you comfort.

You arrive at a full stop, and your heels would have stirred up dust if you were a mare.

Now it's not only Thranduil's eyes that seem to have developed an inability to stray farther than your head; his mouth falls open as well and he makes no effort to close it again. The fact that this behavior is completely ungracious and ill-mannered has apparently not dawned on him yet. The longer you spend helplessly looking up at him, you swear you can see most of his thoughts visibly inching away behind that baffled expression.

At first, there's nothing.

Then some clarity returns into the blue eyes you love so much and Thranduil exhales a quiet: "Berio nin."

Now, that's Sindarin you've heard before – that the context he has said these words were moments when he playfully begged the Valar to aid him with you tormented him in some way throws you off your balance even more and you take a step back.

"I did not–" you start and raise a hand to wave it at all of you, "This, I had no idea. Did I offend you? Or the elves?"

"Offend?" Thranduil asks bewildered.

"Well, the way they reacted. I wasn't sure," you laugh distraught. Thranduil's eyebrows instantly furrow, and you're quick to follow up: "Not in a bad way!" you explain and he loosens up, "They, um, they bowed? And some may have fallen to the ground?"

"Ah," he chuckles and his reaction calms you a bit. He could've been screaming or throwing you out. If he's laughing this can't be that big of a serious misstep. Thranduil looks at you through lowered lashes and runs his tongue over his teeth, a smile threatening to break through the serious expression he tries to obtain. "I believe a conversation and education is in order. If you would follow me to have this conversation somewhere else," he says and holds out his arm for you to grab.

He leads you around a corner and another one, walking swiftly yet seemingly in no hurry until Thranduil opens a door and quickly pulls you inside the room.

Candles littered all around light up what you immediately understand to be his private chambers, the many robes you recognize, the colorful falcons with shimmering scented oils and shells full of jewelry, pearls, gems, and rings in gold and silver. There, right where Thranduil stops in front of you to block out your view, you take a peek at a giant bed behind flowy white curtains.

You blush.

Even more so when you see Thranduil blush as well. His eyes return to your hair again, just like he had on the short walk to these chambers; tilting his head down to you as if some magical force bound him to staring at you in a manner he hadn't done before.

"You are my guest so I see it to be my responsibility to clear up what may have been a–" he pauses and his eyelashes flutter as he thinks of a fitting word, "a misapprehension. Not that you could have possibly known the outcome of what you doubtlessly suspected to be a kind gesture."

You nervously cross your arms behind your back, intertwining your fingers so you do not meddle or ruffle the carefully layered fabrics of your dress. "I solemnly swear I was not up for any mockery."

His eyes widen again. "I would not have accused you of such!"

You tilt your head in confusion and bite down on your lip, ungraceful as well and a habit you should definitely quit, especially in the company of a King.

"What was it that startled the elves?" You think back to the way Thranduil had reacted, the wide-blown eyes, the pink lips formed to a delicate 'o' – "As well as you, Thranduil. You couldn't even get a word out except for a prayer." You let out a single laugh to cover up your embarrassment.

The elf lifts his chin higher as if that could prevent you from noticing the blush deepening, growing much more red than just a delicate pink that stands out from his ivory skin but not much that it couldn't be interpreted as a light intoxication of either wine or fresh air.

"I do not remember that," he lies with a dismissive voice. "Anyway, let me clarify the current dilemma instead of wasting time discussing the past."

"Definitely not that far back that you could count it as 'the past' but sure," you sigh and decide to ignore the glare he sends you as you confront his very unsubtle passive- aggressive change of topic from him to you. Thranduil had centuries of building up a thickheadedness to lead the Woodland Realm and you had mere months on your hands in trying to push a way through it.

"Well, the behavior my folk portrayed was simply said the respect they pay for any honorable and eminent," Thranduil says, not batting an eye over the unbelievable words that come out of his mouth.

"What?" Your voice is nothing but a high squeal, "Why would they do that? They know I'm just a human!"

Thranduil scoffs, "Just a human, she says. Do not dismiss yourself in any way and most definitely not as just a human. Humans are such fascinating creatures, all those feelings compressed into an ephemeral life and bodies that endure pain and even if you waste away to dust you try to mark down your existence into every stone that you touch." Before you can burst into tears at his rather sentimental and emotional view of your people, he continues in a tone more factual: "To answer your question– you conveyed that I was courting you and they simply knew there would be grave consequences if they did not respect my intended."

All the air left your body in a singular exhale, thus leaving you to grasp at the few thoughts that stayed through the cut-off of oxygen. Not that they were any good.

Courting you? Being his intended?

You can only stare at him aghast.

"But– courting? You weren't, we weren't– there was no courting!" you stammer.

The world is reeling.

Black spots dance in the corner of your sight.

It takes all your focus to stand still and not sway back and forth, giving in to the abrupt slide downward reality has suddenly become.

"No," Thranduil says.

A part of you withers at the finality of the statement because of course, he, Great Elvenking Thranduil, would never be caught courting a human. The absurdity of it must be why he was laughing earlier, praying to the Valar to become a witness of what must be your greatest humiliation.

"No, there was. I was simply waiting for your realization as well as acceptance to officially proclaim it."

Now it's your mouth that falls open without any strength left to prevent it.

Thranduil swallows, hard, his jaw set tightly and his eyes fixating on you. "All that I did, and thought to do, was in prospect of taking you as my betrothed," he states; the smallest of quivers underlining the massive impact this admission causes to him. He lifts one hand to his chest, pressing his knuckles against the fabric where underneath his heart lays. "I ache to love, treasure, and worship you. Every second of all the days I may have the pleasure of your company in my life or it shall be colorless from now on."

His eyes glitter, the endless blues of the sky, affection burning in them like the sun, broadening your horizon of what you believed love to be and there is no doubt in your mind that Thranduil's words are nothing but the truth. Confounding as that truth should be, it is that – certainty.

A smile breaks on your face, watery and wet as tears of pure happiness spill onto your cheeks and even if your heart has been on the tip of your tongue at every word you have ever said to him and in every glance that you have ever directed in his way, the need to validate his revelation.

You step carefully step closer and the hem of your dress brushes against his gowns as you close the bit of distance. Thranduil watches cautiously, leaving his hand against his heart, and only tips his chin down to follow you until you step into his personal space. The whole regal and stoic image he portrays even after confessing his love passionately mere seconds ago breaks as you feel his wavering breath and you swear you can hear the loud pounding of his battered-yet-strong heart.

"Is it my hair?" you ask quietly and catch him off-guard.

Thranduil smiles and his chest heaves in a deep inhale of air. "Yes," he laughs in an exhale, "Do you wish to know how you managed to completely dismantle me? Rob me of all powers?"

You nod once and one hand of his comes to rest on your shoulder from where he leads you to a silver basin standing in a corner decorated with more oils and vines climbing the stone walls.

The sight that the clear water inside it shows you, Thranduil standing behind you, more than slightly taller, brings a warmness to your cheeks. Even if the prospect of his image finding a constant in your life from now on is undeniable, you're not sure if you will ever get satiated by it.

Thranduil slowly reaches the elaborate braid you are so proud of despite the public tumult it had caused. "There are many things sacred to my folk and hair –" he starts and lets his fingers travel the length of free-falling hair, "holds the memories of our history, our connection to the Eldar and kemen – the earth. We do not cut it but rather let it grow to pay our respects to Eru for his creation, the natural and untouched world, flows in us all. It bears the marks of our ancestry though many cultures convey their personal history in many different ways."

You listen intently, trying not to get distracted by Thranduil's hands smoothing your hair and the deep rumble of his voice wrapping around his language that pulls you into a trance.

"Among us Sindar, we wave our customs into the very strands of this sacred hair. Our warriors, for instance, adorn themselves with tightly woven braids, serving not only as protection in battle but as a testament to their strength and unwavering discipline."

"The intricate and jeweled braids you wear," Thranduil's fingers glide along the white gems, thus nudging them against your head, "they speak volumes of noble heritage and high standing. Even if you do not have royal blood in your family, a braid like this will be more convincing to the contrary."

You blush as you realize how you unknowingly changed your entire status.

"By adorning your hair with the jewels I bestowed upon you, you declare to all my claim upon you," Thranduil chuckles and meets your eyes in the water, "Braids are the essence of our heritage, denoting rank and occupation, and they speak volumes in courtship."

"Oh," you say, "I knew Elves court through gifts. Would I have known this…"

Thranduil shakes his head, smiling widely as he continues playing with your hair, "You say that but not once have you realized all that I have given to you were of my pursuit."

"Well, I– this wasn't… I thought you were being nice," you sputter and grow even redder in the face.

"Unbelievably rude and ungracious to consider me ni–" he interrupts himself and shivers, "No I will not speak in such obscene language." Thranduil raises an eyebrow before returning his attention to the lesson in courting, "Through these intricate weavings, we convey our intentions and the profound depth of our bonds. While dalliances are not uncommon, my folk only marry once in their life."

"Love is eternal and unwavering, and each twist in our braids declares the union of our souls. By weaving your hopes and pleas for reciprocation into your hair, you speak a silent yet powerful language. The braid you chose, resembling my crown and adorned with my jewels and a silver ribbon akin to my own hair, could not have delivered a clearer message."

"So I basically lied to your elves," you pull a face in shame, "Great."

"You may call it a lie," Thranduil says slowly and his hands travel to rest on your shoulders. You lean into the gentle pull and let him turn you around so that you are face-to-face again. There is a dedication in his eyes, a look of hunger and yearning, "Or," his voice sounds even deeper and reverberates through your entire body, zipping up your spine that you automatically straighten, "You allow me to present our courtship openly if a deeper connection is what you desire to form between us."

Your heart thumps in your chest, double the tempo that one would call normal and it only speeds up when Thranduil cups your face in his hand and his fingertips graze the silver ribbon that sits tightly against your head.

"Allow me," he repeats, quieter.

"Your word and the world will know you are mine," he pleads.

You waste not a second to ponder over what your heart already decided. "I allow it."

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

#📁files: thranduil fanfics #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #the hobbit x you #king thranduil

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educatedsimps · 1 day

Note

Hi! Saw your requests were open and I just had to stop by! Could I request a (not exactly angst bc the idea is funny but definitely in character for him) Bokuto x reader where he's ranting to a friend about how he loves to hug the reader and his friend just makes an offhand comment about how he'll probably crush her since he's a pretty big guy and he goes all emo mode about it. He doesn't want to hurt anyone :( Obviously we gotta add some comfort at the end for the silly guy

≪ back to fics masterlist

bokuto kōtarō x f!reader

a/n: omg of course!! i haven't had the chance to write for bokuto and yes i agree this is literally perfect for him 🥰

cw: timeskip spoilers, atsumu being stupid, some hurt/comfort, msby crack

"I can’t wait to go home after this. I’m exhausted," Sakusa sighed.

"It’s not useful practice if it’s not exhausting, Omi-Omi. Be glad you’ve got teammates like us," Atsumu drawled, winking at his teammate and earning a disgusted glare from across the table.

"I thought today’s practice was fun! We got to try the new unorthodox version of our quick attack, and we've almost got it!" Hinata chirped next to Atsumu, with bits of his food flying from his mouth.

"I'm fine with it as long as you guys don't overexert yourselves during training," Lisa, Atsumu's girlfriend and the team's physiotherapist, chimed in from Atsumu's other side.

"What are you guys planning to do when you get home?" Meian asked, stuffing a rice ball in his mouth.

"Shower," was Sakusa's immediate answer.

"Probably do a little bit of meditation," Hinata mused.

"Call my brother to ask for more meal prep bentos," Atsumu said. An amused scoff came from his girlfriend.

"What about you, Bokuto?"

Having been focused on his food the whole time, Bokuto nearly choked on his rice when called upon by his captain. With tempura crumbs coating his lips, he smiled widely and announced, "I'm going home to give y/n a big hug!"

"You sure love hugging y/n, Bokuto-san!" Hinata chuckled, popping a salmon nigiri in his mouth.

"Of course I do! I love hugging her! She's so huggable and I just wanna squeeze her so tight all the time and transfer all of my love for her," Bokuto said, with with his fists in the air. "You guys should all hug your girlfriends tight! The tighter you hug her the more she'll know you love her!"

Shooting Lisa a lovesick smile, Atsumu stated, "We all love hugging our girlfriends, but I won't accidentally crush 'er to bits like someone." He nodded towards Bokuto.

Bokuto stilled, staring at Atsumu with confusion.

"Miya..." Meian warned under his breath.

"What? I mean, have ya seen the guy? He's huge! Could prob'ly flatten 'er if he wanted to," Atsumu continued, chortling at the thought. He stopped short as he noticed the glares from Meian and Sakusa. "What? What'd I say?"

By then, Bokuto was already in a completely different headspace. He had a blank expression on his face and a faraway look in his eyes. His shoulders were slightly hunched and his usually spiky hair seemed to droop at the edges.

Sakusa sighed what was probably the heaviest sigh in the history of mankind as Hinata stage-whispered to his teammate, "Atsumu-san, I think you hurt Bokuto's feelings."

Wide eyed, the blonde setter started to defend himself. "WHA-?! no, i- I DIDN'T EVEN-"

Sensing Bokuto's incoming emotinal shut down (or emotional episode, in this case), Lisa quickly tried to divert their attention. "Please, 'Tsumu. You wish you were as strong as Bokuto-san. Your spikes are weak as shit-"

" 'Cause I'm literally a setter!"

"-and not an all-rounder, which is why Kageyama-kun is ranked first in the country and you're second."

"BABE-"

"Maybe I shouldn't hug her anymore. I don't wanna hurt her. What if I really crush her one day? Then she'll really be flattened like a piece of bread. I don't wanna hurt her. So this means I can't hug her anymore. But I like hugging her. But does she even like my hugs?" Came Bokuto's voice. His brows were now furrowed and his face was etched with worry.

"Of course she does, Bokuto-san! I'm sure she loves your hugs, and you love her too much to ever hurt her, right?" Hinata and Lisa attempted to cheer up the saddened spiker.

Finishing the last of his food, Sakusa stood up, muttering, "I'm exhausted, I can't deal with this right now. My partner's here to pick me up anyway," As he walked past the other side of the table, he spoke to Atsumu in a low voice. "Only a jerk like you would say something like that to Bokuto, of all people."

"SHUT UP, OMI.”

"I’m home…"

Your ears perked up at the sound of Bokuto’s voice and you immediately noticed his dejected tone. Closing your laptop, you got up from your desk and bounced over to the front door to greet him.

Sticking your head round the corner, you saw him place his stuff down by the counter before staring into space. His face was blank and devoid of emotion but his eyes were filled with inexplicable sadness. Seeing him like this tugged on your heartstrings and you knew he was going through one of his emotional episodes. You just didn’t know why.

"Hey, Kō! How was your day?" Slowly walking towards him, you reached out your arms to give him a hug but stopped short when he cried out.

"NO, DON’T HUG ME. I’LL CRUSH YOU."

You froze with your arms mid-air before you dropped them back to your side. He had one hand held out to stop you from coming closer and his face was tucked into his other arm. You could hear quiet sniffles coming from him and your heart broke seeing how upset he was.

"But you already have a crush on me, baby. And I have a crush on you too! I thought we’ve already established that?" You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

It didn’t work. It was like he didn’t even hear you, so you decided to give him some space (like Akaashi had advised). You guided him to sit on the couch while you went about the house finishing up your chores. After several minutes, he seemed to feel a little better and you decided to talk to him (also like Akaashi had advised).

Sitting by his side on the couch, you reached out and held his hands in your own. His eyes were downcast and he was avoiding your gaze as if his life depended on it.

"Kō? What's wrong?"

"Nothin'."

"Look at me, baby. Please? I wanna see your cute face," you cooed. He pouted for a while more (which was adorable, by the way) before he finally caved.

"Tsum-Tsum said I'll crush you if I hug you too tight 'cause I'm so much bigger and stronger than you. And I don't wanna crush you, I promise! It just made me sacred to think I might not know my own strength and end up hurting you in the process. That's why I'm scared of accidentally hurting you when I’m excited and I know that if I did, you wouldn't say anything which is why I don't wanna accidentally hurt you with my hugs in the first place-" He swallowed the rest of his words as you pressed your lips to his.

"Kō, I love your hugs. They're the warmest hugs anyone has ever given me. Don't tell my mom, but sometimes your hugs are even better than hers," You giggled softly. A small smile appeared on his face as he looked at you. "And it's not a bad thing that you're so strong. It makes your arms really nice to hug! I promise you'll never be able to crush me. I'm stronger than you think, you know?"

"Really? You really like my hugs?" He asked, hope in his eyes.

"Really. A hundred per cent. A thousand per cent. I wouldn't like it any other way, Kō," You reassured him, kissing him sweetly once more. Within seconds, his entire mood had shifted and he was now beaming.

"Okay! I can hug you now!" He cheered. Before you could process anything, you were held in your favourite set of arms and wrapped up in the warmest hug on earth. You hugged him back tightly and felt his soft lips press against the crown of your head. Snuggling into his warmth, you felt so lucky to have him.

"Oh my god, anyone who says your hugs aren't perfect are clearly stupid," You sighed happily.

"Tsum-Tsum is pretty stupid sometimes," Kotaro hummed.

You pulled away, gasping in faux shock. "Really?"

"Pfft, yeah. Even Lisa says so!" He guffawed.

Before you could reply, your phone buzzed with an incoming message.

Lisa: “hey girl! hope everything’s ok with bokuto. my boyfriend’s kinda stupid sometimes so he doesn’t think before he says stuff. hope bokuto’s not feeling too down!”

Y/n: “it’s all good! managed to cheer him up pretty quickly today, haha”

Lisa: “that’s good to hear. you’re the only one who can cheer him up like that, y/n! anyway, rest well, you two. see ya next week!”

Reacting to her message with a heart, you put your phone down and turned back to your boyfriend.

"So, you gonna hug me or not?"

a/n: UM I HOPE THIS WAS OKAY??? pls lmk what u think 😭

#educated.simps #haikyuu x reader #lyssa.writes #simps.write #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto fluff #bokuto x reader fluff

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wanderingsoul6261 · 2 days

Text

I'm Here Now

Credit for gif goes to mauraeyk

James Beaufort x Reader

synopsis: follows the plot of a few requests, mostly pregnancy, angst, etc. In this one, Reader finds out she is pregnant. She tells James and he gets cold feet. Events in this fix are probably unlikely, but Y/N had been understanding, considering who his parents were. And then they meet several years later.

warnings: none, I don't think? If I'm wrong, please let me know and I can change it. My brain isn't working right now.

expect two more within the next 24 to 48 hours.

-------

The plastic stick stared hauntingly at her. This was it. The next nine months of her life and everything that came after, already laid for her. Ultimately, she had a different route, but she couldn’t do it. She would never do it.

Her parents stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Silence filled the air and Y/N felt like she could suffocate in it. She picked at her fingernails, her eyes on the floor, looking everywhere but at her parents. It was already known how disappointed they were in her. How they had expected and hoped that she would get through the first few of her life after Maxton Hall before anything like this happened. She knew that they hoped that she would get through college and make a life for herself.

But here it was, all thrown back in their faces. And it wasn’t just her parents. Y/N expected something completely different, and this was definitely not it.

“Does he know?” Her mother finally spoke, breaking the silence. Y/N casted her eyes briefly in her parents direction. Her father leaned against the door frame, a hand on the bottom half of his face, and her mother stood a few steps closer, her eyes focusing solely on the pregnancy test.

Y/N was silent for several seconds.

“No.” She averted her eyes back to the ground in front of her. “He doesn’t”

“Do you plan on telling him?” Her eyes snapped her father this time, who now stared back directly at her.

“Yea. I just don’t know how. It’s not exactly an easy subject to talk about. Especially at your ages.”

“It’s definitely the right thing to do.” He agreed. Her father let out a heavy sigh. “But… you might not like the response and actions that he might have.” Her mother nodded.

“This will be just as hard for him as it is for you at this moment.”

“And you’re sure you want to keep the child?” She had been asked this question twice already minutes before. Y/N turned her gaze back to the ground, swallowing thickly as thoughts ran through her mind.

“Because if not, we can pull some strings, and-”

“Stop.” Y/N cut her father off, and he went silent. He had almost surprisingly looked dejected, and it was likely genuine. Y/N should have known. Her parents weren’t like other parents of rich kids. They meant well and actually cared for her well being. She knew that no matter what she decided to do, they would have her back no matter what. “I’m sorry.” She apologized. “But yea, I’d like to keep the child.”

—

“What?” James was pale, and if Y/N hadn’t known any better, she would have thought him to be sick. She swallowed thickly, picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit of hers. He had seen and slapped her hands, telling her to stop it. Then he took a step back.

She stared at him. James had obviously not liked the news, shock and fear written all over his face. Y/N had been scared that this was going to happen. In fact, she had almost expected it. But she had been surprised when he still showed enough care to stop her from picking at her fingers until they bled.

Maybe there was a potential for hope.

“I’m pregnant.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Mine?” She nodded.

“Yours.” James mumbled under his breath. Y/N watched as he paced back and forth in front of the pool. Y/N watched him, growing slightly more stressed with each stride he took. Her eyes followed his feet, repeating her mannerisms from the other night. She refused to look in his face. She had let so many people down by allowing this to happen, and in the end, she still wasn’t sure what she would lose or keep. “Can you stop pacing please?” Y/N asked quietly. “You’re stressing me out.”

“Stressing you out-” James paused, finally stopping to stare at Y/N. She had shrunk into herself and despite his attempt at stopping her from picking at her fingers, she still continued to do so. His breath got caught in his throat. What was he to do? His parents, especially his father, would not allow this. He would see it as a scandal and do everything in his power to separate Y/N from him and keep it that way.

James had to do something first.

He stopped his pacing, and sat on the opposite end of the bench that she sat on. James hunched forward, running his hand down his face as he ran through different possibilities in his mind.

“You don’t want this right now, do you?” Y/N asked. His head whipped up and towards her. She was staring at him, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. James opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say, willing himself to say anything, but nothing came. He closed his mouth, but kept eye contact with her. Y/N searched his eyes for anything, anything that might tell her what exactly it was that he wanted.

“I don’t know.” He finally said.

Even if it wasn’t a definitive answer, those three words still punched a hole in Y/N’s stomach. She swallowed thickly, turning her head away from him and looked towards the pool. Her eyes flickered over the waving surface, suddenly interested in the way that the sun showed on the ripples created by the slight breeze, watching as the sun rays bounced off the bottom floor.

“I mean. You have to understand, Y/N.” James went silent again for a few seconds. “This is a tough thing at our ages. And your parents might be more accommodating, but mine-”

“Are you basing your decision off of what you want, or what they would want?” Y/N turned back to him. He didn’t even have to answer it. She knew the answer before he answered it himself.

“Y/N, you know how my parents-”

“And that’s enough to potentially think about walking away from me and your unborn child?” She asked. James went silent and averted his gaze. His eyes peered down at his shoes, taking note of the scuff and dirt marks that he had never really noticed until now. They were dirt and scuff marks that his father wouldn’t stand for.

His father.

He turned back to Y/N, who now had tears streaming down her face. A sigh escaped her lips and James was almost expecting more to come from her mouth. He had already felt bad enough that he was leaning more towards the thoughts of his father, but the more he thought about it, he was almost protecting her. If his father ever found out, he didn’t know what would happen.

“I won’t be mad.” She finally spoke, and James was beyond surprised. He had indeed expected more from her. Not this. He didn’t expect her to be as understanding in this moment that she currently was being. A child was supposed to have their father in their lives. And this one wouldn’t.

James was silent for several moments.

“I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry.” Looking in her face, James knew she was being genuine. “I should have done more.”

“No stop.” He said. “We both had a part to play in this.”

And with that, both went silent. They remained on opposite ends of the bench, until enough time had passed and James had decided it was time to leave. He itched to hold her one last time, knowing that once he walked out of the front door, things were going to change. However, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

But she did.

As he walked by her, she grabbed his hand, staring up at him. He stared down at her, but couldn’t offer her a smile, not that she had one to give back.

“Can I find you in a few years?” He asked. ‘When I don’t have to answer to my father?,’ he almost wanted to say, but he stayed silent.

“Maybe.” Her heart broke some more.

And then he was gone.

—--

After finding out that she was pregnant, Y/N had opted to continue her classwork remotely, only making visits to Maxton Hall in the first few months of her pregnancy. After she started showing, she had stopped, not wanting to raise questions or a potential scandal amongst the students there.

When the children were born, Y/N knew that things would be okay.

Twins. She had twins, and the only thing that she could think of were the Beauforts. A boy and a girl. The baby girl definitely had the looks of James more than the baby boy did. Y/N figured that she might be the troublemaker of the two in the coming years. The baby boy was quiet and good, the opposite of his sister, which was ironic, considering it was the other way around for both Lydia and James.

Raising the twins though had actually been easier than she expected, especially with the help of her parents. Certain moments had been a bit tougher, like when Y/N had to take them in for vaccinations and doctor appointments. Listening to them cry their little hearts out because of being poked had broken her own heart. Many moments, she had wished that James was around to witness his kids grow up into the young children they were growing up to be.

Even as they grew up, even if James wasn’t there, she still acted as if he was. Y/N told the kids stories about their father and what he was like. After all this time, she still loved him.She loved him enough that she wished that he had been around to witness their first steps, to experience their first words, etc. In general, Y/N had just wished that he was there.

Especially now, walking through the park. The twins were a little over the age of four. They stomped around Y/N, giggling and laughing. They brought a smile to her face, making her happy when she thought that things were turning for the worst. She now knew that things weren’t going to turn out as bad as she had expected the day she found out she was pregnant.

She came back to earth after hearing one of her kids let out a surprised shout. Y/N looked around, seeing her son on the ground, seemingly unhurt and okay. D/N had hurried over in an attempt to help him up, but the man S/N had ran into had helped him up first.

“Sorry kiddo. Didn’t see you.” The man looked up and around, seeing Y/N.

Her world stopped at that very moment, for the man that stood before her, she never expected to see again.

“James.”

“Y/N” The two a few feet apart and S/N and D/N were now next to their mother. James had already put two and two together, his eyes now focused on his kids. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing was spoken. His eyes moved to look at Y/N, who only smiled softly at him. It almost seemed sad.

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked.

“On a walk with the kids. Wanted to give mom and dad some peace and quiet.” Y/N explained. “What about you?” she asked.

“I was just at a business meeting. I decided to cut through the park to get to my car.” His eyes were focused back on the kids, who stared up at him with large eyes. They hid partially behind Y/N. He could definitely see himself in both of them.

“What are their names?”

“D/N and S/N” Their names rolled off James tongue easily. Y/N followed his gaze to the kids, before shooing them away. “How about you two go play on the slide? I’m right here, I’ll be watching you.” The two ran off towards the slide without any hesitation, their giggles could be heard as they raced.

“How are they?” he asked, watching their movement. Y/N watched James, taking in his appearance. He really hadn’t changed much. James still looked like himself.

“They are good kids. Healthy. Take after us, that’s for sure.” She laughed a little, took a step closer to James as they now both watched the kids.

“Do they know about me?”

“Yea.” Y/N spoke softly. “I tell them stories about you. From school, what you’re like, just a bunch of things about you.” She said, “They’ve been coming up with their own questions lately.” James turned his attention to her. His eyes trailed over her form, taking her in, before looking back at the kids.

“Like what?” He hesitated in looking back at her, before finally turning his head back towards her, but their eyes didn’t meet. She watched her children, a sad look in her eyes. Like she wanted to give them so much more than they already had in that moment. “Y/N.” She turned to him.

“Hmm?”

“Would you be mad or upset with me now, if I asked if I could be in their lives?” he asked. Her smile looked a little less sad.

“Never. You have every right to be in their lives. I can tell you right now that they want you in their lives. I can guarantee it.” Y/N turned to face him. “We can do whatever works. We can set up visitation times. Or you can take them whenever you want. We can work something out.” James nodded along, listening to her and the suggestions. He was silent for several seconds, and he knew that she was waiting for something from him.

“Could we, maybe. Perhaps…could we try things over again?” Her smile seemed even brighter.

“I think so.” She said softly. “I understood why you didn’t want anything at first. Yea, it took some time to adjust and get used to. I missed you terribly, but I want to work on things, especially between us. And that’s not only for us, but for them.” The two turned their attention back to the kids, who were running around, their high pitched giggles filling the air as they laughed.

By the end of the night, after being invited for dinner with Y/N, her kids, and her parents, James had started to wedge himself back into their lives. His son and daughter were latched to him, never really letting him out of their sight. They told him everything that they could, as James stared at them, love apparent in his eyes and he listened to what they had to say.

This was it. This is what he wanted. After everything that he already had, this was it.

And as he looked up and his eyes found Y/N’s, already staring at him with the kids, and he had seen the smile she had adorned her face, he knew already that he was willing to give up anything to keep this.

And she would let him.

------

@sillyfreakfanparty @honethatty12 @lifeonawhim @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27 @maryvibess @wheredidmyeyesgo @imasimptoowth @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @benbarnesprettygurl

#james beaufort #maxton hall #james beaufort x reader #maxton hall: the world between us

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conkers-thecosy · 14 hours

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Been a while since I last made a fic rec list, and I recently went through all the newer bagginshield works on AO3, so I wanted to share some of my favourites! These are all amazing, please go give them a read if you haven't already! 💛 These are all completed, but if anyone is interested I might also do a list of incomplete works in progress that I'm feral about as well!

"Green-Handed" by lotusOkid Post-BotFA, while Thorin, Fili, and Kili are slowly recovering from their wounds, Bilbo finds himself subject to a condition that hobbits might experience at a few very particular times in their lives, under very particular circumstances, none of which apply to him. Very confused (and somewhat embarrassed) he decides to keep it a secret during this delicate time in the mountain. This goes about as well as you might expect.

"The Burden of Choice" by @fantasyinallforms Thorin Oakenshield is the crown prince of one of the strongest kingdoms in Middle Earth, but in the last year, the kingdom has struggled to keep its place among the ruling powers of Middle Earth. Erebor was held under vicious siege by the dragon Smaug, who terrorised the land and wiped out the nearby human settlement of Dale. The hardship forces Erebor into a difficult position, creating no other choice but for King Thror to seek alliances with other kingdoms and races through the bonds of marriage. Will Thorin see this as his duty to his kingdom or take another path entirely?

"No Grave Can Hold My Body Down" by @chaoticangel666 Bilbo returns to The Shire after the Battle of the Five Armies. He might be going insane though, because why does the ghost of Thorin Oakenshield keep showing up when he least expects it? Follows the events from the end of The Hobbit until the end of The Lord of the Rings.

"Handsome Stranger" by kriegswaffel A handsome stranger arrives at Hobbiton, both reminding and distracting Bilbo Baggins from the upcoming negotiations between a Dwarven Envoy all the way from Erebor and the official-inoffical leadership of the Shire regarding trade. As he gets more wrapped up in matters, can he find something true and lasting with someone so different - and maybe entirely different from what he expected? Or will he get his heart broken again, at long last, having hoped where there was no hope, or even only betrayal?

"What's In A Name" by broken_pencils A short scene that takes place post-canon, in which Bilbo and Thorin discuss the uniquely hobbit custom of family surnames. ~ "And Watch Them Grown" by @sunnyrosewritesstuff Thorin survives his battle to find Bilbo laying unconscious in the snow. Unable to carry him down, Thorin leaves him with his ring on to get help. Only he doesn’t make it very far before collapsing. Waking in the healing tents, Thorin comes to realize no one made it back up to save Bilbo! ~ "The Kitchen Thief" by @mordellestories There are pests. At first, Thorin thought one of his assistants was stealing from him. And that may have been why he was a bit harsher on them than what was deemed necessary. But one by one, the workers were replaced only for the goods to keep vanishing into thin air. It was driving him to madness. And when Thorin wasn’t at peace, everyone knew it. So, it had to be pests, right? Pixies, brownies, rats, something was pilfering his hard work and it was happening more often as time went by. ~ "The things you see in the market." by GothicMama Krelven just wants to explore the market on his day off. But instead he gets thrown for multiple loops when he sees two extremely familiar faces.

#bagginshield #the hobbit #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield #thilbo #fic recs #fic rec #if you're one of the authors and want your tumblr linked just let me know!

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kandyzee · 1 day

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I think one of the main parts of why I don't like season 11 is cause of the way Ian acts after Terry died (honestly how they handled it as a whole). Why did they give us ZERO sweet scenes with them ??

I defend Ian a lot about how he acts after 3s ep6 and I feel like this is kinda a similar situation? Not completely the same. Mickey is clearly upset and vulnerable and Ian laughs. Ian goes through so much emotional growth in between s3 and 11 and they still make him act like that?? His husband is literally crying and he just looks at him like a fucking freak. mickey even being able to cry is already such a big thing but infront of Ian is a whole different step forward. The writers love taking serious situations with gallavich and turning them into bad attempts at humour. LET THEM LOVE EACHOTHER

And ur telling me we don't see mickey interact with any of his siblings about Terry dying. I wanted a Monica type celebration. I want to see them playing drinking games about all the bad shit Terry's done to them. Give me an old welcome banner where the word home has been crossed out and replaced with hell. The fact they don't even mention mandy is a FUCKING CRIME.

#rant over #im rewatching s11 #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless #gallavich #fuck terry milkovich

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crumblinggothicarchitecture · 2 days

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“And the relative simplicity of her music works with people who just want something mindlessly play in the background. It's also really easy for average people- who have no musical background- to sing along with. The lines are simple rhymes, and she never really uses any specialized vocal techniques like Vibrato. Basically, it's music for bland people who think salt is a spice.”

Some of your takes are valid and it’s healthy to critique anything that amasses such a large following in pop culture. However I would argue there is a way to do this without coming across as a pretentious undergraduate who read a few required and recommended readings from the syllabus and now sips their tea with a pinkie protruding. Let’s remember that tumblr is not inherently full of academics and defining anyone who hasn’t got a certain level of education as average or bland is such an Americanised, my way or the highway way of thinking.

It is possible to have differing opinions to others without insulting their intelligence or falsely presenting them in a certain way. Average people as a term in general, is quite elitist and classist. For example, I have a PHD in literature and am a classical musician. I work in publishing and academia.

That said, I still enjoy pop music, sometimes something can just be enjoyable and it’s not that deep.

Criticising Taylor Swift is low hanging fruit for a lit major who claims to be allied with as many causes as yourself. Or, if you do decide to continue with it, I hope you do it in a more articulated manner that focuses more on the quality of your arguments, and not just an assumption that those who oppose you are stupid or “bland” when I suspect the truth is much more complex than that, as it always is.

Best of luck with further studies. I hope to see more diverse content from you in the future, maybe some literary analysis of contemporary texts, or other artists who you deem intellectual enough to enjoy, or some recommendations.

Honestly- I do not know with which tone I should address this anon. I cannot tell if you are being hostile- but I certainly feel that you are being condescending.

Thanks for at least direct quoting my words with which you draw issue. I appreciate it- some people send me critiques but fail to outline which of my posts is the problem.

I can capitulate to exactly one of your points- and admit it is a good point- that I am overly sassy on occasion. The post you are angry about is just me chitchatting with someone about Swift’s live shows- it wasn’t a literary analysis. I cannot do an academic analysis of her live shows- but that does not mean I don’t have an opinion of them.

Again- it was opinion not argument or analysis. Not a serious post. This is not a blog where I am going to speak like an academic all of the time. I’m here to have a little fun- and try to remind myself why I actually do love what I do for a living.

Generally speaking- I will try to make a more obvious, clear difference between what is just an opinion and what is a researched, literary argument on Taylor Swift in my future posting. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.

There are some other things about your ask that I want to address, because it struck me as a bit unnecessary.

You say that I’m “coming across as a pretentious undergraduate who read a few required and recommended readings from the syllabus and now sips their tea with a pinkie protruding” (para. 1). This is condescending. No, I did not simply “read a few required and recommended readings” to complete my education. You say you’ve got a PHd in the same discipline- and yet you want to tell me all I did for my degree was read a couple of books? You should know the kind of intellectual work that goes into real literary study. I am trying to show people with this blog, at least in some small way, that while literary study is not so straightforwardly quantifiably valuable like, for instance, physics- it is still a real discipline. With real requirements on argumentation and logic. It takes intellectual skill to wrestle with concepts in literary theory – but more so to apply them in synthesis and interpretation of textual evidence.

SO, why are you essentially patting my head and saying “aw-cute she read some books and now thinks she’s smart?”

To be clear- I am not in undergrad. I have finished two different degrees and am currently working on my third.

Why would you accuse me of classism and elitism predicated solely on a bad joke in a post wherein I am not even doing any real literary analysis? What prompted that? I made no effort to even pretend the post in question was little more than opinion- my real posts however, about literary analysis, I take great pains to research and edit those together with care.

Also, “Americanized” what? Are you American? Because people ‘round here don’t care about what level of education you’ve got? The access to education varies remarkably state to state- and down into Latin American too- and we all know it. So, there is very much a culture of “help each other out when struggling” and not a culture of thinking that everyone of Earth needs to go through American University in order to matter. What are you talking about? Do you think American’s hold the monopoly on having Dogmatic views or “my way or the highway” thinking? That’s obviously not true- so what are you trying to say here?

Did you miss the part of my Bio where I talk about being a teacher? I am a teacher in one of the poorest- most unfunded places in the country. My friend- I am repulsed by the idea of classism- I take my position in my community very seriously. Knowledge is not a stick with which I attempt to beat others down- Please understand that.

Next, you say it is possible to critique without insulting people’s intelligence (para. 2). um, I did not insult anyone’s intelligence? I said their taste in music was bland, which does not correlate to an assumption on their intelligence. Um- I have also said many times that I like simple pop- music. Am I calling myself stupid because I’ve been listening to “Espresso” by Sabrina Carpenter on repeat? NOpe. It’s just a silly little song- and dancing to it makes me feel cute, young and free- but it’s still a bland song with no literary or moral value. What exactly is the problem here?

Okay, within this same point you draw issue with my use of the word average, saying that “average people, as a term...is quite elitist and classist” (para.3). Okay, you misinterpreted my use of the word “average” here- as I was not referring to people as “average” because they have no education, or a different education compared to my own. I was only using the term in the most colloquial sense- meaning “in general” or “on average” as in the median percentage of people have no musical background- therefore they find simplistic pop music the easiest to digest and the simplest thing to play in the background or sing to on car trips. It’s pleasing to the ear because we don’t have too much “work” into understanding it- that's what I mean when I say it’s bland.

If oatmeal was a type of music- it would be pop music. bland filler- but you know it can still be good.

Okay, let’s talk about your final point “Taylor Swift is Low Hanging Fruit” (para. Whatever I can’t be bothered to count). Ummm? A billionaire musician who has massive worldwide acclaim and social impact is “low-hanging” to you? I mean yeah- she's clearly not worth study through the lens of poetical semiotics, or God forbid- Linguistic Morphology; however, there are several different ways a good analysis of her work could function- through feminist, Marxists, Post-colonialist, or anything under the umbrella of cultural studies. I also intend to do a rhetorical analysis on her use of “lower class” aesthetics and how that attracts the audience she wants. And, I’ve done a couple of syntactical analyses. However, I had to prop those up with a dichotomization of her work to someone with more impressive literary value, like Kendrick Lamar, because her work alone is not strong enough for that type of analysis.

Apologies if I have written a return, you did not expect or want- perhaps, I should be less sensitive on the internet. I do often brush off people's condescension, especially when I notice that they are extremely young or just do not know anything at all about my field of study. Because why worry about uninformed opinions? I wanted to speak with you, however, because you do care. It is obvious, and I am glad that people do care. I admire you for caring about the integrity of the discipline- but I really wasn’t doing what you thought I was doing.

I admire anyone who also studies Literature, and you say you’re a classical musician, I think that’s so impressive! I love classical music! Rachmaninoff makes me feel insane! I love it! You know that one O’Hara poem? The one that is an ode to Rachmaninoff’s birthday that ends “you’ll never be mentally sober” because I feel that line in my bones. And don’t even get me started on Tchaikovsky- Truly, you might never hear the end of it. (CAnnoNS!!!!??? what a guy)

I just wanted to clear up anything that you found offensive- but I also defended myself because you do know what I’m talking about when it comes to literary study- and so the conversation took priority over the other meaningless “hate” messages I get. And- boy howdy- I've been getting hate messages pretty much daily.

Promise to no longer be condescending to me and I think we ought to be friends and not fight- let me start- what did you concentrate on for your PHd?

I, myself, focus on post-colonialism, feminist theory, and post-modernist thought in American Literature. I work mainly within US Multi-ethnic literature, though, outside of school, I have an intense fascination with medieval or ancient Literature- primarily, these days, classical Sanskrit poetry. Last year it was an obsession with old Norse literature- lol I like to switch things up. Have you ever read the Heliand? It’s about Viking Jesus- so cool and written in old Saxon! But, anyway, I think the unique prosody of Sanskrit is so neat-o. My other obsession is this one old french poem called "le roman de silence" what a crazy little gender-bending 13th century thing that is (haha). And this doesn't even get into my philosophical preoccupations- though I believe I will discuss those on my blog, too, at some point.

Anyway- perhaps I will talk about my more niche interests on this blog- all good things in time. I have no interest in solely focusing on Taylor Swift forever- but I do want to finish saying all the things I’ve been holding back for years. I think it’s important- because Swift holds such a massive influence over people. It’s healthy, as you said, to critique people like that.

Okay- Sorry I talked soo long. Peace Out :)

#anti taylor swift #ex swiftie #linguistics #literary criticism #literary theory #literary analysis #academia #english lit student

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inmyheaddd · 2 days

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under/over - g. hawthorne

wc: 1.3k idk how i feel about this one, it hurts me to write angstt i hope you enjoy!!

im under water, but i’m over you.

you and grayson were everything. you completed each other — finding him helped you find yourself, and the same goes for him. to him, you were the sun. you lit everything up, your presence kept everything together, and you were the focus of his life.

that was until about a year ago, when he broke up with you.

something about “different paths in life,” “not in the right headspace,” and “i’m sorry.”

grayson being grayson, of course brought you out to a nice dinner to break up with you. you were so excited, got all ready, and looked your best, only to leave feeling more ugly and defeated than you ever have.

“so it meant nothing to you? all of this?” he responded with silence, and in hindsight you wish he would’ve left it at just that. “it didn’t mean enough.”

it didn't mean enough.

you didn’t mean enough.

you’re not enough.

every day felt like a vinyl record on repeat, the only skips being the dreams you’d have when everything was still perfect. you’d long for them so much that once you’d wake up that you’d stay in bed all day, hoping they’d come back. but they didn’t.

instead, your mind was swarmed with endless thoughts. “was i too much?” “was i seriously so caught up in being with him, that i didn’t notice we were falling apart?” “what did i do wrong?”

but that was all a year ago, you had put it behind you. you’re over it now.

whenever you remember the girl grayson made out of you after the breakup, you almost want to laugh. you pity her, you want to give her a hug, and you want to slap some sense into her at the same time.

you’re better now, though. you took down every single thing that grayson was remotely tied to in your room. letters, gifts, and those stupid photos that seemed to cover every wall in your house. your friends say to just find a guy to mess around with and forget about grayson. but how could you ever not think about him? he was everywhere.

the pattering of your feet running against the cold concrete filled your ears, your heels in your hands, and grayson already starting to take off his suit jacket, 50 or so meters ahead of you. you and grayson had a secret hangout spot—not so secret, considering it was a whole house on the hawthorne property—but it was you and grayson's secret. his grandfather had built it way back for whatever reason but never paid it any mind. you doubted he even remembered it exists. “wait for me!” you almost scream-giggled. the sky was painted a dark blue, the sun long gone, contrasting with the lighted pool behind the house, inviting you and grayson in.

you were a laughing mess, and the second you were both out of your formal clothes from the event you left early, you grabbed graysons hand and jumped into the pool. you had planned before the event that you were going to swim, hence the clothes under, and it was now approaching 2 in the morning.

you weren’t sure if what you and grayson were doing even counted as swimming. splashing water in each other's faces, swimming away from grayson only to be pulled back in, and laughing so loud that they could be heard from miles away.

you splash more water in graysons face, after he tried to kiss you and you pretended to lean in. when he pulled back, after being met with water rather than your lips, he was trying to act annoyed, but his lips that twitched upwards betrayed him.

you laugh at his silence and start to swim away. you were a good swimmer, but grayson was out of this world. that, and your never ending laughter minimized your ability to swim properly. he caught up within seconds and caged you in at the edge of the pool, and you were standing in between his arms.

you push your arms against the water at a punishingly fast pace. you’ve been swimming for roughly 2 hours now. you would’ve been sure your limbs weren’t there anymore if you didn’t feel that dull ache. 1,2,3,4, up, 1,2,3,4 up.

tobias hawthorne died, and it seemed like all the progress you made did too.

he had a will reading; you weren't going to go - if you had a choice, but your presence was required. this was your way of prepping for it. if you’re so focused on the pain of your muscles, you won’t be able to feel any other types of pain. right?

“sorry,” you managed to get out after moments of laughing on end. you placed your hands on the side of grayson’s face, to which he looked up at the sky and almost shook his head in disbelief. with an ever present smile on his face, he looked back at you, and then he kissed you. somehow even in chlorine-filled water and wet hair sticking to your face, the kiss was as perfect as ever. this time, you didn’t splash him. his arms that were by your side now hooked under your legs and were holding you up, and your legs were wrapped around his waist. you pulled back from the kiss and rest your forehead on his.

nothing could ever ruin this moment.

“if we ever broke up, i don’t think i’d ever be able to swim again.” you confess, if you two weren’t as physically close as you were you doubt he would’ve even heard you. “if we ever broke up, i don’t think i’d be able to live with myself.” his tone matched yours. sincere, and full of love.

upon entering the cold room full of memories at every corner, with every person, you were hyper-aware of every single nerve in your body, feeling everything everywhere.

but suddenly, you went numb, you couldn’t feel your limbs, and you felt like you were watching your life from a 3rd-person perspective, floating outside.

your eyes met icy blue ones.

for the first time in over a year.

you look at each other, and even with all your inner workings and feelings for him all blurred, you realize that you barely even knew who he was anymore.

but you knew one thing: the look in his eyes was the same. the eyes you fell in love with. the ones that pulled you in deeper and deeper every day, and the ones that told you it was over before he said it himself. it seemed like everyone was looking at you and grayson, yet you weren’t looking at each other anymore. you weren’t going to look at him for the rest of the will reading. not even a glance. you undoubtedly feel his gaze on you, and it takes everything in you not to meet it. you spent all this time becoming a better you, and he was not going to ruin it. you promised yourself. it wasn’t until you heard what you had been left with—what you and grayson have been left with.

“…and to y/n l/n and grayson hawthorne, i leave you the rosewood property. may you find yourself cherishing it like you once had.”

you broke the promise you made to yourself without thinking, and there was a different look in those icy blue eyes, you’d expect hatred—2 minutes earlier he found out he’d been snubbed of billions, but this look was different. shock? you weren’t shocked, for one, the man knowing about your clearly not-so-secret rendezvous wasn’t surprising. so what was it? his eyes looked so distant, but full of familiar memories that float around in your subconscious. you looked away, and the hawthorne brothers lives were ruined again in another mere 2 minutes. practically all of tobias’ wealth went to a girl they didn’t even know.

“he left everything to her?”

“who the hell is she?”

“there must be some mistake.” and that was the first time you heard his voice in roughly a year. funny, that sentence could be applied to a hell of a lot of things.

you tuned all the noise out. what the hell was that look he gave you? was it regret? resentment? lov— no. you weren’t sure. but it plagued you for the rest of the day, simply standing up and leaving the room when everyone around you seemed to burn into flames.

i’m under water, am i over you?

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dozyrogue · 2 days

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I brought it up and now I can't not think about it so I'm going to Yap some more,, block me now

I don't understand how people can't tell the difference that is adding tommy to a fic an suddenly tubbo is not a well thought out character instead he will always ever be tommys side kick.

Maybe I'm crazy lol

Like think of it this way, you're watching an anime or a show where yes we have an enticing main character but we get a couple episodes about the side characters. These episodes about the side characters can be really different and fun and they put details into that side character they really flesh them out.

But then we get back to the main story and suddenly all the fleshing out of the character that was created in the side episodes is completely deleted and this side character is now ........ empty. Or the only drive they have is around the mc.

The moment tommy is added into a fic suddenly tubbo doesnt get to have his own thoughts outside of being the tommy support squad. Same goes for ranboo.

And if you tell me that you don't recognize this or you've never seen this before either, you were the luckiest person alive oooorr YOUR JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM.

And actually I think it's even worse if it's like a qsmp based fic because qtubbo is very fleshed out and the total opposite of how most write tubbo. A lot of people still write him as the calm chaos that's only ever evolving around and for tommy. Which iss fine but not fine, iiiii-

Qtubbo, been to jail for a consering amount of crimes, is a boy kisser, created multiple basically sentient machines, im gonna say he created or was apart of some secret order. Literally evil scientist, epic builder. When on multiple death rampages, literally fucked with a fed organization for funnies.

Now don't get me wrong ctubbo is also very good character. But the only people who get it are other ctubbo fans who pay attention to him.

but dude it was so hard having to fight tooth and nail defending him because he was only EVER seen as tommys sidekick or his best friend. HES SO MUCH MOOORRE

#tubbo #qsmp tubbo #dsmp tubbo #ctubbo #I feel like I should clarify that I don't hate Tommy or his characters #i do hate when characters r mischaracterized #especially around other characters #like you guys can go ahead and Mischaracterized whatever character you want........ but not around me #btw this is about a twitter post and then a different blog post i made #i shouldve mentioned that 🧍🏾‍♂🧍🏾‍♂

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lloydfrontera · 3 days

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thinking again about lloyd in the context of him being an only child and then living alone for years.

he's really particular about where his things go and gets really irritated when someone leaves them out of place.

he always asks permission before borrowing anything and is really offended when someone doesn't ask before grabbing something of his even if they're really close. he finds it especially maddening when someone asks to borrow something and then just grabs it without waiting for him to say yes.

he can go hours without talking and not even notice and doesn't really find silence uncomfortable or boring. even when he's hanging out with someone there can be really long stretches of time where he just goes silent and doesn't find it weird or remarkable.

he's great at connecting with people older than him. he can charm old people into liking him sooo easily. put him in a room with a couple grandpas and grandmas and he will leave having been adopted several times over. they think he's a 'very charming young man'. he's got an old soul. he does not know how to socially connect to people his own age and when he actually manages it is the exception and not the rule. he's the twenty-something years old going 'kids these days' at people two years younger than him.

sharing a living space with someone makes his skin itch and it takes a long time before he stops feeling vaguely irritated when there's someone in his room or they enter without knocking.

sometimes he just unconsciously drifts to the room where his parents are and just hangs out doing his own thing, not even particularly looking to have a conversation with them, just soaking in their presence for a while before leaving just as casually.

he gets easily grossed out when it comes to sharing personal things. he does not get the concept of 'sharing spit'. one time javier takes a sip from the same cup lloyd was drinking from and he can just stare in horror because ew. javier points out he does not say that when they're kissing. lloyd retorts that's a completely different situation. they agree to disagree.

he kinda just assumes he will take care of his parents when they grow old. he doesn't even really discuss it with julian or even arcos and marbella. this is just a fact of life for him. the idea of leaving them on their own doesn't really cross his mind at all.

this one is embarrassing and he will never ever tell a soul about it but sometimes he does feel it a little jarring to share their parents' affections with julian. like. he loves him and is beyond thrilled to have a little brother, would not change that for the world. but what do you mean he's not his parents' most especialest little guy. that does not compute. he's aware this is ridiculous and only child syndrome speaking and that's why he's taking it to the grave but like. he needs to be the center of their attention at least once a day or he'll start biting.

it takes a while for him to finally register that even when marbella and arcos pass away he won't be alone in the world without anyone to rely on. that he won't have to bury his parent and mourn them on his own. that there will always be someone he can call family even with his parents are gone. this does not make the idea or the pain of losing them any less heavy, but it does make it easier to carry.

also sometimes julian will talk about a childhood experience and lloyd will think it's just another way og lloyd was an abusive ass only for sheherazade to cheerfully comment that she and her siblings used to the same thing and actually no it's a really common thing and he's left going 'what the fuck what the fuck w h a t t h e f u c k' under his breath through that entire conversation lol

#i talk a lot <3 #tged #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #me?? projecting on my blorbo?? what gives you that idea #we talk a lot about only children writers not knowing how to write siblings but we don't talk nearly enough about writers with siblings #not knowing how to write only children #this shit makes your brain develop in completely different ways to people who grow with siblings

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mixterglacia · 1 day

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THIS IS THE PART WHERE LOGAN BITCHES ABOUT CARTOONS

WARNING: VIVZIEPOP CRITICAL, STOLITZ CRITICAL

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I don't like this show, and I don't pretend to. Full transparency, I'm meaner in this then any before now. This is also slightly more disjointed than normal because I was directly reacting to the episode it's self.

"I swore I wouldn't dwell on the divorce." MAYBE WE SHOULDN'T BE RUSHING THESE THINGS BECAUSE IT FEELS LIKE HE'S WAITED TWO DAYS. EVEN IF IT'S BEEN MONTHS IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE IT.

"I'll hear him and not the voice that says I'm not enough" Oh boo hoo bitch. You've seriously done nothing to convince me to feel bad for this stupid fucking asshole. His writing is full of holes and contradictions. It makes him feel like two different people.

"I'll set us free!" Are you quite sure that means what you think it means you stupid fucking ass.

Framed adoption certificate is a nice touch. Very cute.

Blitz is immediately not coming off how they want. I think they're -trying- to imply he has some deeply buried feelings too, but it comes off as "i didn't want this and i still don't want this, why can't it just be normal hookup shit."

"I'll die alone if this goes wrong!!" You have the emotional depth of a teaspoon and are about as interesting as one. Boo fucking hoo. BAD.

NGL this really made their wealth difference hit home. Why the flying fuck is blitz still bordering on abject poverty dude? You should be able to help him advertise send something IDK man, if you really gave a shit, why aren't you trying to actually help him in a genuine way? I'm sure he wouldn't say no if you slipped a hundred bucks or so into the book every so often. I fucking hate it here.

"Would he want me if he was free?" No. Next question. (You've done very little if anything to prove Blitz actually wants strings attached in this.)

"If he's only here as a prisoner what kind of monster does that make me?" Little late to have this realization but I'll take it. Also can we seriously stop downplaying how awful this is for BLITZ to go through? Stolas is severely over represented in Blitz's own fucking show. Why is Blitz so underdeveloped??? Why, dude? The episodes that mainly focus on him are pretty okay, but once Stolas shows up it's all fucking stupid.

If Blitz rejects him (which he should. Look how fucking anxious he is just THINKING about this.) he could lose his entire way of life. No more apartment, probably gonna get Loona taken away. Probably has to resort to prostitution or return to clowning. Stolas just gets to go about his life of luxury.

Why is Blitz's emotional well being such an after thought in this duet? THIS IS NOT STOLAS' SHOW.

"He showed me that I could choose" ...Dude. You have given no weight to swing that line at us. This isn't much of a choice in the grand scheme of things. Stolas and Stella already had the kid. The marriage never had to last. Not from the impression you've given us. He's a toddler deciding he wants chocolate milk instead of regular. We have never been shown he's actually going to lose anything of real value. He's still a prince. He's still got his money. Like are they trying to have him killed, sure but lets be real he's A PRINCE OF HELL. Assassination attempts are like...Tuesday for him.

GOD THIS SONG IS ASS. I will not allow Blitz to be painted as the bad guy here. Fuck Stolas, and fuck the team for trying to make it seem like we should feel bad for him. They both suck. BUT STOLAS IS OBJECTIVELY IN THE WRONG.

Ah yes, The Helluverse special of "let's yeet a stupid ass joke in the middle of plot, completely derailing anything." it has only been a few seconds and it's already going on for too long. Go learn from Bojack or RvB.

...........This cherub bit is throwing your entire lore off. If these idiots are having to do this shit to get by, why are they acting like heaven bound can do whatever they want in Hazbin? If all you meant by that line is the human souls in heaven, you totally screwed up the message there. Your points are murky at best, and you're contradicting yourself at every turn.

...............Are the cherubs mortal now? Like they're flying and glowing but they have to eat???? Huh? I don't think I've ever realized you're showing they eat a lot, but surely you don't actually have to eat as an angel or demon? Surely it's just a choice???? That's genuinely so fucking stupid???? WHY IS THAT EVEN A THING?

WE DON'T NEED FIVE ANTAGONISTS IN A CHARACTER DRIVEN EPISODE YOU FUCKING IDIOT. YOU ARE LITERALLY RUINING YOUR MAIN PUNCH. YOU ARE TAKING AWAY TIME THAT SHOULD BE USED TO ACTUALLY PROVE BLITZ HAS SOME KIND OF FEELINGS FOR STOLAS. BAD.

Honestly the stuff with these five would have been a fun standalone minisode. NOT IN THE MIDDLE OF ONE OF YOUR SINGLE MOST IMPORTANT EPISODES.

Bloody alleyway was a phenomenal cutaway gag. Points.

You really are not making it sound like Blitz likes this at ALL.

"If someone wants to see you less and less? Big red flag." NOT IN A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP, DUH. He's literally a prince of hell in an affair with a """childhood friend""" who was literally PURCHASED for him. The whole thing is a red flag. Not just this!

You are making it exceedingly clear Blitz's just in it because he think's he'll lose the book. I don't give a rats ass about what micro-development you're going for. You take away time needed for showing that Blitz is conflicted on more than one level to do stupid ass tertiary character shit. YOUR CAST IS OVER BLOATED. BAD.

If you wanted me to feel bad for Stolas, maybe don't show that Blitz has an Angel-esque box of sex toys because he thinks he has to impress him. Stolas should have made it very clear AGES ago that he just wants Blitz. If Blitz is this hung up on needing to impress the damned bird, something very VERY wrong is happening in the bedroom.

If you seriously want us to think Blitz has feelings/cares about Stolas (Not that he HAS to), this sex candle shop would have been a perfect place to do it. "Well, he really likes it when I do this-" "This is his favorite colour." "This is his favorite scent." Blitz clearly knows nothing about Stolas, and both of them are to blame. This relationship is never EVER going to work if they know this little about each other when they've been regularly boning for ages. He should know more about what he likes. "What's the mood!?" "I don't know!" Woof. Full stop. This is never going to work in a real scenario. Womp Womp Move on.

HOW DOES BLITZ NOT KNOW HIS MEASUREMENTS. HOW CAN HE NOT JUST HELL-GOOGLE HIS MEASUREMENTS. STOLAS IS A PUBLIC FIGURE IT WOULD BE KNOWN. HE DOESN'T CARE, ERGO WE DON'T CARE. BAD.

Like he seems to MILDLY know what Stolas likes but this should be WAY clearer. Especially if you want us to think Blitz secretly cares too.

Love Fizz's new outfit. Very cute.

Gonna be real, Fizz and Blitz are seriously adorable. Can Ozzie pick him up too and actually show Blitz what being sexually valued is like? Because clearly he pulled it off with Fizz. Because he clearly enjoys sex and it feels like Stolas is just...using him. Not enjoying him. It's gross and SHOULD feel gross, because it FUCKING IS.

This whole bit with the cherubs makes it feel like we aren't supposed to give a damn about the main plot. That it's just a silly background to TERTIARY CHARACTER NONSENSE. BAD.

So far this confrontation is good as far as the pit of dread it opened in my stomach. I still really don't feel bad for Stolas. I feel bad for blitz. Him begging tore my soul out. It's so obvious how bad this power imbalance has gotten. I refuse to entertain these two any longer. This show needs to GROW UP and get over them, leave it here and I will forgive it.

Stolas should have 100% consulted Blitz before OFFICIALLY PUTTING HIM UNDER OZZIE'S JURISDICTION THAT'S NOT OKAY. Even if he leaves him alone, that can absolutely be weaponized.

"Am I not fucking you good enough?" Doesn't come off as him wanting more. Blitz feels like he's waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the love of the gods stop stringing this POORLY WRITTEN. BADLY RETCONNED. PATHETIC ATTEMPT AT A WELL DONE TOXIC RELATIONSHIP ALONG. BAD. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON.

"I care very deeply and have for a long time" You sure as shit never showed it.

To Those in The Back. ONE GRAND GESTURE DOES NOT FIX A TERRIBLE RELATIONSHIP. This is Mr. Peanutbutter with the library thing. This is Not ROMANTIC. This IS EMBARRASSING.

If he really cared, Blitz would not be living in poverty. If he really cared, he'd make an effort to engage beyond sex. IF HE REALLY CARED HE WOULD HAVE DIVORCED HIS WIFE THE PROPER WAY AND NOT TRAUMATIZED HIS FUCKING DAUGHTER OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Stolas is a godsawful woobified piece of shit that doesn't have the decency to acknowledge he's the problem, and when he does, has the fucking AUDACITY to behave like a pathetic child. This I was wrong speech is DOGSHIT and has no punch to it because more than half of the episode was TERTIARY CHARACTER BULLSHIT.

Blitz has EVERY RIGHT to see this as a joke. I immediately burst out laughing because YEAH. WHEN HAVE YOU GIVEN HIM ANY IMPRESSION YOU CARED BEYOND GETTING YOUR FREAK ON?

"Thank you for being here for a little while." Oh boo fucking hoo. Get over yourself. "It's just about sex" BECAUSE YOU NEVER MADE IT ANYTHING ELSE YOU FUCKING BOZO.

I am immediately cheering Blitz on in his retort. He's fucking earned it. You're not going to make me feel bad by making them show up in the room from their childhood. Blitz is completely in the right here.

If Stolas really thought so highly of him, he'd be putting in more of an effort. Stolas treats Blitz the way he treats Octavia. Like they're dolls from his childhood. If he wanted to do right by them, he would. He is FUCKING ROYALTY. There is NO reason he can't put in more effort for the people he supposedly loves. You don't love them. You love the idea of them. You can't accept that they aren't the idea in your head. This isn't love. It's abuse.

Fuck you. Blitz has NOTHING to apologize for.

It's like Stolas doesn't seem to think he's the problem. No shit, of course Blitz isn't going to react the way you thought he would. Why are you just THROWING HIM OUT RATHER THAN TALKING TO HIM? BECAUSE YOU DON'T WANT TO ACTUALLY WORK FOR YOUR RELATIONSHIPS YOU STUPID ASS OWL. YOU WANT EVERYTHING TO BE HANDED TO YOU ON A PLATE YOU RICH DUMBASS.

Fuck everyone trying to paint Blitz as the bad guy.

FUCK. YOU.

He's just trying to survive! He has a fucking daughter! A found family! EVERYTHING to lose!

Stolas just gets his fucking feelings hurt. He is the architect of his own undoing. Suck my entire ass. This was easily the worst episode bar none.

The tone was ALL OVER the place, and not in an effective way. The plot moved at a halt and go pace and all the fun bits were BOGGED DOWN by the supposed point of the episode! You can't tell me this shit took all that time, unless you were constantly saying "OOOO YOU KNOW WHAT'D BE COOL/FUNNY?" and shooting your production scheduled in the foot!

The rest of the portraiture being covered up is a very nice touch.

I can't believe you've gotten me to defend BLITZO of all people. But here we are. I guess I'm on his team. (He's an abusive dick, but NO ONE deserves this.)

#vivziepop critical #logan laments #negative #stolitz critical

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