#/ which has taken all of my attention away from tumblr

[hoshinasblade]

second best |2| hoshina soshiro

PART 1 | PART 2 | BONUS: PART THREE

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f!reader genre: slight angst, comfort, childhood friends to lovers, a bit of that miscommunication trope snippet: hoshina soshiro always ranks second at everything in his life. god forbid he falls behind in the bid for your heart too. word count: 2.5K trigger warnings: author's note: hello, reposting the part 2 because of hiccups from saturday when i posted it first (tumblr blocked my blog lol). likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated but please do not copy or steal my works. in celebration of this blog reaching 100 followers recently, i have written a bonus part 3 which will be posted within this week. my taglist form is here, and feel free to let me know your thoughts by sending me an ask through here. using my degree correctly by writing hoshina fanfics yes

you aren't sure when things changed between you and hoshina soshiro.

when you were young, you would have understood that he didn't have the attention span to deal with you. he wasn't exactly shy, but you wouldn't call him friendly too - unlike you, who has taken it upon herself to be friends with all the children in the small neighbourhood. unfortunately for you, only the hoshina brothers are at the same age as you are, and at that time you thought that was a sign that fate was giving - you ought to be close to them.

you won't deny that you were fonder of the hoshina brothers than anyone when you started school. if you are being honest, you like them more than any of your expensive dolls or toys. being an only child, you thought it was only natural to want someone to be with - to want someone to share things with.

the brothers would have their endless training sessions every day, and though you did not know how to swing a sword then, you insisted to your parents - and theirs - that you must join them. sometimes you would be sitting on the floor just watching them, and frequently you would be the one keeping count of the score between soshiro and soichiro when they spar.

soshiro has never won a single match against his brother when they were kids.

but you didn't mind. you still preferred him over soichiro.

in fifth grade, you bought him the biggest cake your meagre savings could buy. it wasn't much really, but you won't forget how wide his eyes went when you lighted the candles and sang him the happy birthday song albeit out of tune. the next year, you gifted him a small keychain - a teddy bear in a purple kimono. you never saw him use it.

it wasn't until years after that you worked out what your feelings for him were. the girls from your class would make small talk and ask if you have a boyfriend now and then. you would say no all the time. at sixteen, you felt like you didn't need to be in a relationship - because you have soshiro, you said to yourself - and that was when it hit you.

every time soshiro would talk to you after that, you would peek in your little compact mirror, worried he had miraculously discovered your secret, afraid that maybe your face had given it away. he caught you doing that once, and he accused you of attempting to be pretty for him.

"is it me ye're trying to be cute for?" he volunteered to carry your bag on your way home but you declined. you didn't want to start assuming things; you knew he was just being nice.

"ya wish," you deflected effectively.

"well, whoever it is for, they're in for some trouble", he commented, and you chose not to read too much in his words. you realized how the walk to your house always seemed to be shorter when you were with soshiro.

when you turned eighteen, you asked your mom what it meant to be in love. she was the last person you had wanted to ask - your parents had broken their perfect marriage not long ago, your father choosing to abandon your mother and you. soshiro taught you the basics of kendo during those hard months. "i'll even let ya beat me", he said to you.

"it's when you care for them so much that you will go as far as to let them go because you wanted them to be happy," your mother answered.

soshiro did not have the decency to say goodbye when he left himeji. you wanted to celebrate with him, and it wasn't like you weren't familiar with his plans to move after graduation. you used to stay up late with him, and inevitably the conversation would steer to his dream of getting out of your town. he would say that it's to expand his horizons - for his growth - but you like to give yourself some credit because you know him too well to simply believe that. you can tell that he needs a place to stretch his wings and be the best - somewhere he can be better than his brother.

and maybe you are really your mother's daughter - you let hoshina soshiro go because you thought it would make him happy.

"vice-captain, platoon leader said ye're needed at operations." you saluted and walked inside his office. "get yer ass in there, were the exact words actually," you added, intending it to be a joke.

soshiro didn't even look up from the file he had been staring at since you came in. he's been like this for days after you were sworn in the defense force. you would bump into him in the hallways of the training building or sit at the same table with him for lunch, and he wouldn't speak to you at all. if you didn't know better, you would think that finally, after all these years, he is now aware of your feelings. but that would be impossible, because not only the other recruits would not dare to rat you out, but also because soshiro would not be acting this way if he knew.

"v-vice captain?" you repeated.

soshiro hummed. "i heard ya the first time, officer," he said, his glance on you so cold you felt it from where you stood. it wiped off the smile you were wearing that morning.

"ya can go," he said once more after he noticed you didn't move. "or d'ya need anything else from me?"

"no, vice-captain." you were almost out of the door when you remembered something else. "one more thing, hoshina-san," you faced him again, the way you said his last name soft against your own lips. "soichiro-kun will be visiting again tomorrow so we can go to himeji together -"

"do ya belong to the sixth division?" soshiro cut you off. "i didn't know ya transferred."

"i - i'm not -" you were still trying to look for the appropriate response when he interrupted you again.

"then why are ya spending so much time with him? d'ya wanna move to his jurisdiction?" soshiro is standing now, whatever he was reading earlier long forgotten.

it was difficult to reconcile this distant man in front of you with the boy you used to chase after during your childhood days. the one who would bring you an extra boxed lunch because you told him before that his bento tastes so much better than yours. the boy you fell in love with. you had both grown up, and taken different paths at a time, yes, but you did not expect to struggle so badly to find common ground with him. "im sorry, vice-captain, i'll be off now." it felt like a huge chasm had opened in the middle of the room that determined to keep the two of you worlds apart. you turned to leave, and you heard him mutter something.

"if ya wanted to keep going on dates with my brother, ya shouldn't have gone here."

there is only one thing sharper than his katana and it is hoshina soshiro's mouth.

pain swirled inside you, threatening to spill over. when you couldn’t keep the turmoil in any longer, you snapped.

"what is yer problem?!" your pitch reached a high octave that soshiro was shocked at the outburst. "did i do anything? cause yer being mean, soshiro," you pressed on, stepping closer to him. it didn't escape him how you dropped the title off his name, and the honorifics, too. he was about to respond, but you didn't give him the chance. "look, i know yer not on good terms with soichiro-kun, but he’s my friend."

"like i needed to be reminded." sarcasm coated his retort. "ya know what? ya can marry the guy and i won't even care. do whatever ya want", he said, dismissing you in a harsher tone

your forehead scrunched and your eyebrows met in confusion. "what are ya talkin' about? no one is getting married -"

soshiro's laugh was bitter. you recoiled at the offensive sound. "i'm not the one going around telling everyone she's in love with soichiro-kun.”

there was a loud ringing in your ears; you couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and you were suddenly afraid that this conversation is unfolding into something else entirely. “i never said that,” you protested. “i never told anyone i was in love with him. i don’t know where you’re getting this from.”

soshiro’s expression remained stoic and unreadable. “i heard you say it at the izakaya”, he murmured.

breath was knocked out of your lungs and panic started to rise within you. “i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you repeated. you tried to rewind every second of what happened in the party thrown for the new officers nearly a month ago. everyone was drinking and having a good time after the sworn-in ceremony. commander ashiro and the vice-captain had to leave ahead. your fellow newbies grilling you on your history with hoshina soshiro.

“save it.” hurt was evident in soshiro’s voice; his eyes glimpsed at you briefly, and you saw an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher flicker. soshiro’s expressionless mask faltered for a moment, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability. although you don’t have a clue how he would have heard it when he went with commander ashiro that night, the desire to straighten things out overtook you.

for a split second, the burden of the truth hangs heavily on your tongue. you gave in to the desperation.

“i never told anyone i was in love with him”, you reiterated, hoping he would understand this time. “because it’s you i’m in love with.”

there were multiple occasions in the past where you almost admitted what he meant to you; you had pictured a thousand scenarios in your head where you declared your love, but all of them did not include the part where soshiro would respond.

you thought confessing would ease the ache in your heart, but it was the opposite. "i didn't know how to tell ya, and that's my fault. but how could i? ya didn't even bother to say goodbye to me when ya left home." it was taking everything of you to hold your tears back, and ignoring the obvious tremble in your voice, you continued. "did ya know i taught myself how to pray after ya were gone? i thought it was the only thing i could do for ya."

"i didn't know", was all soshiro could say. he looks in distress, still grappling with your bold confession.

a loud knock on the door broke the tension. “vice-captain, they made me fetch you,” okonogi said from the hall.

“well, now ya do.” you turned away just when soshiro strode towards your direction, running after you. you were faster than him, and despite the possibility that you would be seen coming from the vice-captain’s office crying, you twisted the doorknob and ran.

it is still hot when you sit down on a bench at the rooftop of the third division's training building.  you welcomed the cool breeze, however, and you noted that at this altitude, everything from far away looks considerably smaller.

you missed two important briefings this afternoon already, and your team is most certainly searching frantically for you everywhere. you are definitely going to be scolded by your superior. yet you couldn’t bring yourself to discard the little comfort being alone had given to you, especially after such an emotional confrontation. you sighed, exhaustion slowly crawling all over you. lost in your thoughts, you did not notice the soft footsteps approaching until a familiar voice tore through the silence. the cold breeze blew, making you shiver a bit.

“hey,” soshiro called out. you freaked out, immediately looking for a space to hide at. “i already saw ya,” he let you know.

he held out a keychain in front of your face, a tiny bear in a faded purple kimono with the string attached to its head dangling from his forefinger. you recognized it instantly - you got it for him when he turned 12 years old. he sat beside you, not concerning himself with asking for your permission.

“the first few days were the hardest”, he began, and you listened. “i was too used to seeing ya every day, but when we were apart, i convinced myself i would forget how ya look like. i didn’t.” he offered the keychain to you and you took it - the bear’s fur worn out and old to your touch. “i hold that thing whenever i start to miss ya.”

shock was etched on your face and your gaze darted to him. “is it too late now to say that i love ya?” he whispered, his face mirroring the sincerity of his tone. sunlight bathed the rooftop as soshiro’s words hung in the air, leaving you breathless and stunned. you gasped. “maybe i should have told ya sooner. but i have been in love with ya for a while now.”

you leaned into his shoulder, and you quietly cried.

“i don’t think i have been anybody’s first choice in anything, so it didn’t enter my mind that ya would probably feel the same.” his hand found yours and you relished on the warmth.

“your brother advised that i tell ya, ya know?” you said between sniffles.

he chuckled. “he didn’t do an excellent job at that, did he now?”

silence ensued; his thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand, your head on his shoulder still - your breathing still a mess from everything that has been said. “i’m sorry i hurt ya. let me spend my whole life making it up to ya,” he proposed. the promise made your heart skip a beat.

for the first time in a long time, you gave him a smile - the one you have reserved just for him, the one you made sure to convey everything you wanted to tell him. there are a lot of other things you feel the need to ask him, but this will suffice for now. this is more than you ever had in your whole life.

“i can’t believe we wasted so much time dancing around our feelings. that one time i wanted to hit one of our classmates because he was being pushy with ya, d’ya remember that?” he reminisced. “anyone can have everything in the world, and the only time i would crack is if it is ya being taken away from me.”

all your dreams pale in comparison to your reality now.

out of the blue, you heard soshiro giggle. “does this mean ya were telling the newbies that night that it was me ye’re into?” he stared at you, and you can’t help but see him as the little boy you grew up with. this is the man i love, you said to yourself. you squeezed his hand.

you didn’t respond. all you know is the color of your cheeks surely rivals the pink of the skies as the both of you watch the sun sets.

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned ୨୧ Chapter III

“Abstain from sinful desires, which wage war against your soul.” 1 Peter 2:11

Priest Geto has unfaltering faith in his hands. They have traversed deadly straits. Blossomed gardens. Taken and given life.

Can he trust his hands to mold you for another man?

Pairing: Geto x Female reader

Art credit: Grartss on tumblr/insta

A/N: someone needs to peel me away from I wanna Be Yours x Artic Monkeys and the third scene. That song fits TOO perfectly to my ears. I hope this chapter edges you just as much as it did me.

Previous | Next

CHAPTER III: Courtside

Duchess, 

Allow me to apologize. It was inappropriate to end our session so abruptly. 

You have been on my mind. It will serve your marriage best for you and the Duke Ahriman to pursue individual counseling prior to pre-marital counseling. 

I cannot guide you to love one another, your hearts will make that determination. But I can help unravel your layers; to allow for independent growth. Having a strong sense of self, above all,  is paramount for successful matrimony.

Think on this proposal. If you both accept, we will proceed. 

Warmly, 

Suguru Geto

Suguru Geto. 

His name tastes just as rich as it reads. 

Elegant. 

Too ethereal to be bound by ink and manila paper.

A name like that is meant to be said out loud. Shouted from the mountain top. Meant to be worshipped. 

Praised. 

“Darling? Are you decent?” Ezra calls from the other side of your heavy chamber doors. 

You flicker down to your robe. Technically you aren’t. But your continued attempts to avoid your betrothed — conscious or not — remain futile. 

Especially, today. Your formal introduction to court. The future Duchess Ahriman. You will be fused to Ezra’s side for hours on end. Grateful to have been bestowed the honor. An honor you will spend your life upholding. 

Pro Deo et patria. 

For God and Country. 

“Yes, I’m decent.” Hoping whatever he needs can be addressed from behind your barrier. 

“May I, my love?” 

A bitter scoff glides down your throat, but your words seep sweet. “Yes of course!”

Arella, who is diligently arranging your formal attire on the golden rack, fetters over to welcome the Duke.

Instinctively, your hand tightens the silk knot as he steps into view in your mirror. Ezra’s emerald gaze is warmer than the Grecian sun. Excitement buzzing off of his boyish grin and short strides to your vanity. 

The Priest’s letter finds its away into your pocket, just as strong hands land on your shoulders. 

Ezra didn’t notice. And why would he? The letter isn’t illegal.

“How are you feeling?” Like plush Evergreens withstanding all seasons, Ezra peers into you and roots you in place.

He’s unwavering, your fiancé. He doesn’t yield so easily. 

“Are you ready for tonight?” 

“Not like I have a choice in the matter.” 

Almost instantly you regret the response. The Duke offers you a pained smile and tender kiss on the crown. 

A sudden gust of wind brings the bouquet of fresh Dahlias to everyone’s attention. Ezra rubs a soft petal between his fingers. 

“These are outstanding, darling. Who brought them to you?”

Before a half truth drips off your tongue, Arella speaks up, taking stride toward where you sit. 

“I picked them this morning. From the garden.”

She grazes over your empty, half parted mouth.  Planting her own kiss on your warm canvas.

“We should get ready for the ball, yes little Dove?” 

Ezra’s good natured laugh overflows. He raises both palms in feigned retreat.

“I suppose that is my queue. I’ll take my leave.” Your handsome fiance keeps his word. Shutting the heavy doors behind him. 

“Arella!” Your head whips around to face your beautiful handmaiden. 

She is swanlike. Coordinating the intimate pieces of your gown. Not another word on her lips but a whole diary on her face. 

“Why did you lie for me?” Your hands steady her busy ones. 

Arella’s voice is small enough to fit through the cracks in the walls. 

“My allegiance is to you and only you, little Dove.”

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Under His Eye, Father.”

“Under His Eye, Rhea.” 

“Blessed Be The Fruit, Father.”

Of course. The greeting used when women are trying for child, the handmaiden chose to use with him. Suguru offers a polite, but pointedly distant smile.

Since his arrival to the compound, there hasn’t been a shortage of high court handmaids and the women they tend to ‘greeting’ him in a similar way. 

Well within the unspoken rules of engagement, but a message served loud and clear. 

“May The Lord Open, Seren.”  Suguru returns the pleasantry as scripted. 

The pretty maiden smiles like a Cheshire kitten. Taking her position in line behind the clergymen. Suguru keeps his gaze ahead. Remaining neutral in the midst of hushed giggles and whispered praises. 

His index finger wires beneath the formal collar. Tonight is the first of a long line of celebrations he will have to stomach. 

A commemoration of a new contract between families. A new marriage of countries. A long awaited treaty as precarious as the peak of Mauna Kea. 

And as the appointed Chaplain he is tasked with praying over each event. Handing out blessings to the soon-to-be-wed and those that wish them no harm. 

He’s already exhausted.

The processional begins and all extraneous chatter settles to the ground. Just in time for you and the Duke to step into view. At the height of the sprawling staircase, there you stand. 

Regal. 

Breathtaking.

Not a single strand out of place. The rigid corset digs into the small of your waist — accenting the feminine swell of your hips. Sage satin drips off the rolls and hills of your mind-altering lines. 

Curve and dip. 

Curve and dip. 

Your figure could render the most veteran fishermen seasick. 

Then your eyes collide with his and Suguru nearly falls backward. Knocking more air out of his lungs than any sea storm ever has. Ten times more deadly than the waves he rode along Drake’s Passage.

The infamous strait holds legend amongst seamen, old and new. The lethal dance between the South Atlantic, Pacific and Southern oceans gives way to the notorious Ship’s Graveyard.

At 60 degrees south of the Equator, Suguru’s father tweaked his usual saying before he dove off their vessel. 

“Below 40, there are no laws. Below 50, there is no God. Don’t go trying to find One, Son.” 

Suguru strips his eyes away from you. Currently plunging well below 60 degrees south, he will drown in you if he keeps gawking up like that.

Focus, Suguru. 

Lines from tonight’s production begin circulating in the Chaplain’s mind. Every moment rehearsed down to the breath. The night is already stifling. And he still has to look you in the eye and bid you a lifetime of love and prosperity with Ezra Ahriman. 

He’ll have to repent for the lie tomorrow. 

Patent leather dress shoes echo a path into the ballroom. Suguru and the rest of the priesthood fall behind the last line of noblemen. His stomach suddenly plummets lower than its usual residence. 

Public speaking isn’t the issue. 

A room full of eyes trained on his every word has never shaken his nerves. 

The problem is the air around him suddenly deciding to shed its layers. 

Leaving one, thin strip of sustenance left for Suguru to breathe in. While he rehearses the lies he has to spew in front of a congregation. 

Half of which is so forbidden. Basking in the thrill of lusting after a “Man of God” bound by law — biblical and not — to remain pure in the face of temptation. It’s thrilling for that half of the congregation. 

Then there’s the other half.

Seeing him for the foreigner that he is. 

The other. A man with eyes more inclement than the worst of Heaven’s rainfall. Who bares tattoos of a past life. Acting as if that part of himself is so far lost at sea.

That half of the congregation is counting the seconds until Suguru can be properly burned at the stake. Words he reads directly from the Bible sound like lies to their ears. 

Which half of the congregation do you reside in?

“Father, I have a hard copy of your speech if you want it.” Noel whispers, just a few paces away from entering the ballroom.

And Suguru is so fond of the boy. The little brother he never got to grow up with.

“I think I have a handle on it, Noel. Thank you.” The Chaplain flashes a brief smile his way before taking in the last gust of oxygen. Praying that it gets him through the dreaded speech.

Violin notes reverberate in sync with Suguru’s footsteps toward the podium. You are somewhere behind him. Probably 20 paces or so. Polite about your wave. Genuine about your smile. Convincing the masses that you are one of them. 

The decades your home country spent in war with them mean nothing. 

Welcome home, Duchess.

Suguru’s deft fingers wrap around the microphone. 

“Welcome in.” He starts. It takes nothing for the room to come to an obedient silence. Listening intently. Taking in every word.

“Please, may the congregation rise? To give and receive blessings this evening.” Suguru prompts the room, a gentle up-flick of his wrist, raising all to their feet. 

“I’d happily kneel, Father.” A muffled comment from the pretty handmaiden that made a point to greet him a few moments earlier. 

Normally, Suguru wouldn’t entertain it. But something about this being his first formal engagement strips his usual restraint. 

“Such a dedicated servant of the Lord, Seren.”The Chaplain glances over to the blushing crowd of women at his right. 

Seren’s outburst crumbles to nothing under his pointed gaze. And a collective chuckle fills the room.

That should be enough to stifle any additional outbursts. 

Here he goes. 

“To the Duke Ahriman, and the Duchess-To-Be.” Suguru tilts his glass of water up at the noble pews — everyone else holding goblets of red wine.

Beauty and grace lock his eyes into place. Coaxing words out of his parched throat. He couldn’t deny you his voice if he wanted to.  

“I pray the Lord brings you unwavering love,” A lie whipped sweeter than cream rolls off his tongue. Suguru’s eyes float from you to the Duke. An eager smile on his face. 

But, what is the expression you’re currently wearing, Duchess?

Are you desperate to come up for air, too?

“A never ending fountain of peace.” Suguru continues to bless the ‘happy’ couple. With eyes that can see with inhuman clarity below the level of sea that receives penetrance from Helios.

The Midnight Zone may as well be daybreak to the Chaplain. And those same sharp eyes see something other than joy in your face. Something other than peace. 

But he continues his script, nonetheless. 

“An unconditional well of prosperity.” Suguru shamelessly sips from your tantalizing presence. If someone whispered to him that you two were the last beings on earth right now, he’d believe it without question. 

The finishing lines cause physical pain.

“And most importantly, to an Ahriman heir.” Suguru chokes out. “For God and Country.”

The room erupts in near uncontrollable cheer. 

“For God and Country!”

“For God and Country.” 

You mirror the Preist’s words and he memorizes every twitch in your lips. Every intonation of your voice is burned into the most permanent part of his mind.

Festivities flicker past Suguru’s short term memory. The night is a complete daze. Hundreds of courteous smiles. Dozens of handshakes. A handful of empathic stares and one all-consuming gaze that halts the Father in his tracks. 

How are you allowed to exist when lust is apparently a sin?

The answer to that never comes.

Boisterous music. Drunken celebration. Complete disinhibition comes in full force instead. 

Suguru wires around the women flinging themselves into his embrace. 

No matter the intention, he wants no part of it. In fact, if he could make it home to steal a few hours of uninterrupted sleep he would consider the night a roaring success. There’s no telling how many seconds, minutes, hours have passed since the start of the celebration. 

Not until his eyes find you swallowing more  than a mouthful of red wine at the edge of your seat. Avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as if the clouds are your native home. 

“Blessed be the fruit, Duchess.” An inebriated noble nearly trips into your arms. 

You narrowly miss his impact. The flame in your campfire gaze ascends high enough to singe the crescent moon. 

“May the Lord open.” Each one of your words sharper than swords made of dragonstone. 

Suguru starts to make his way over to flailing man, to rip him away from you at the very least. 

But you are more skilled than he is in still waters. Beneath your fiancés nose and a host of prying eyes you find an exit to slip past. 

The Chaplain’s feet move before a knowing smile tugs on his lips. 

Suguru knows exactly where to find the woman who doesn’t want to be found. 

 · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

Saline seabreeze intertwines with your loose mane. Erupting goosebumps along your exposed décolletage. Expanding the lungs imprisoned by your steel-boned corset.

Breathe.

The moon is curved and high. Super-terrestrial hands knead the low tide crashing along the cliffside. 

To what end?

Your mind searches for a finish line to the marathon. Desperately seeking refuge from the journey with no endpoint. Traveling further than Pheidippides, who ran hundreds of miles from the battlefield to the citadel to deliver news of victory. 

All before dropping dead. 

A chuckle more bitter than the goblet of wine escapes you. 

You would travel further just to be home. Even if it meant instant death in return.  

“For God and Country.” Sharp words through terse lips. “For God and Country.” 

Thick, unforgiving fog fills your brain space. Heels echo through the chapel garden, pebbling the stone path to the rocky edge. Red wine powers your clumsy stumble. Chasing an ever elusive clarity. 

The marathon continues.

“What if…what if I don’t serve your God.” You hiss at the stars above. 

Resentment more potent on your tongue than the spirits you ingested tonight. Before rules of conduct blare through your drunken haze, rolls of sage satin fill your balmy fists and you take a seat on the ground. Legs dangling over the edge. Enticing the dangers below. 

“For God and — what if I think your God is deaf and dumb and…and—“

“And He loves you all the same, Duchess.”

Oh, that voice. 

That voice that smells like honey. And tastes like a dream. And sounds like lilac. 

No.

Violet. 

Like the eyes of its owner. 

“Suguru!! I-I mean Father. Shit. I’m sorry.” Bitter resentment is replaced with sour regret. 

Did you really need that last serving of truth elixir?

The Chaplain lets out a deep, velvet chuckle. It runs smooth along the curve of your flushed cheeks. He takes a seat on the ledge. A full hand width or two away and yet, his presence kisses you in the way sun rays do, when they tuck in for the night.

“You must think I’m a petulant woman, Father.”  Shockingly sober words, thanks to the company beside you. 

Another rich, truffle laugh. You cant help but notice his prominent Adams Apple gliding down the muscular column of his throat. 

“My name sounds like a ballad when you say it.” Irises softer than an oil painting cement you in place. 

“Please use it.”

Because it is, Father. 

His name is a ballad. A sonnet. A monologue in its own right.

A love letter. 

“And what of my name, Suguru? When will you use it?” 

Sobriety flutters away as quickly as it cloaked you in the first place. Cobalt winds lift the hem of your dress. A sheet of goosebumps along your bare thighs now on display. 

From the glacial breeze? The damp earth beneath you?

…Or is it the way the Chaplain’s Adam’s Apple and gaze descends?

“When I’ve earned it, Duchess.” 

Long, deft fingers reach over to re-drape the  satin over your knees. You swallow a gasp before it erupts. 

Of course he fixed your dress. It’s where your hem belongs. Especially around a man who has taken a vow of celibacy. 

No, no. 

Especially as a woman who is engaged. Spoken for. Under the God he serves and the law you abide by. 

“I trust you’ll have enough..” Suguru’s lips curl up at a thought reserved for himself only. 

And somehow, the perfectly centered dimple  on his appled left cheek comes to your attention for the first time. 

“Enough what?” You probe, sinking in the cavern you’ve discovered. 

“Conviction.” Volcanic eyes trail up to the moon. “To tell me the exact moment when I’ve earned the privilege.”

Suguru gives you ample space to bathe in him while he bathes in moonlight.

It’s uncanny. 

How the Priest exists in two different places at once. Down here, with you on the cliff edge. He’s tangible. Thick locks in a poetic cascade down his back. Limbs nearly twice as long as yours, beckoning creatures that only break the surface of Leviathan’s playground to wreak havoc. 

Sure, he’s down here. 

But he’s also up there. 

Somewhere in the ether. Traversing altitudes well above the average, simple minded being. High enough for the Gods to confess their sins. Because Suguru is the only one worthy enough to forgive them.  

“You’re staring, Duchess.” His voice holds a grin, and that grin has fingers. 

Cruel, torturous fingers that pet and stroke and tease your throbbing core until it’s plush. Your cunt is more intoxicated than you are.

“Eyesight is not a sin, Father.” You retort, crossing your legs before any more arousal leaks from your warm sex. Your gall entirely fueled by Arella’s quote imbedded in your mind. 

“Suguru.” The Priest corrects.  His sleek, jet black brow elevates. You must be an amusing drunk. 

“Suguru.” You acquiesce with a bashful nod. 

“So demanding.” 

He gifts you his left dimple once more. A feature that is rapidly soaring through your mind’s construct. Undoubtedly the only boyish thing about the stallion of a man next to you. 

Straight from Poseidon’s steed. 

“Very.” He agrees. “Only when the time calls for it.” 

And what time would that be?

“The Dahlias I sent, did you enjoy them?” Suguru deftly redirects the conversation like a captain navigating treacherous waters. As if he heard the blasphemous thoughts starting to brew. 

“They are gorgeous.” 

Stifling heat emanates from your cheeks. You were so fond of the bouquet that you felt compelled to lie to your betrothed about the source. 

“Good.” His eyes capture a moon ray and holds it hostage. 

“And the letter?”

“I loved it!” A slurred confession. “I’ve re-read it more times than I can count on my fingers and toes.” 

How does his laugh sprint down your spine the way that it does? 

Unraveling you bit, by bit. You would stay drunk and stupid if it meant you could keep drawing that addicting sound out of his full lips. 

“I was referencing the proposal in the letter, Duchess.” 

Suguru’s eyes drop to your bottom lip, now rolled under your teeth. Not even a second passes before he flickers back out to the sea. And you’re grateful for the privacy to darken like Pinot Noir on a corkscrew. Both hands cup your reddened cheeks. 

“Yes, of course.” You wave, a matter-of-fact, of course. 

“I’ll do whatever you ask of me.” 

That response draws something new from the enigmatic Priest. 

Raven locks lift off his back from the speed at which his gaze recoils back to you. Lightning strikes the volcanoes in his eyes. A clenched fist and tense arm drops between his legs. 

Is he…steadying himself?

You can’t quite name his expression.  Wine or not, you’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s dark. Ominous. Full of bloodlust. 

And you’d gladly offer up a vein. 

“Pardon?” He rasps, completely fixated on your lips. As to not miss a single word of your answer.

Your hips roll around under his unrelenting stare. “I-I mean, you know best. I will do whatever you think is best for my marriage.”

Suguru barely hears your repeated answer, judging by the way he briefly makes eye contact, before re-settling on your mouth. Heat swells in your puffy cunt. Already hugging your thin, sodden undergarment. 

The Priest offers no words. 

Just a heady, quiet that pins you to the ground. And your mind, suddenly promiscuous, wonders if this is what it feels like to be beneath a man’s weight. Caged in by muscular arms. Scalded by fiery eyes tracing inch by inch. 

Not that you would know. 

Not that you know anything about making love. Or men. Or loving a man. 

“Will you…can you teach me how to love a man?” The tips of your ears threaten to melt off your head the second your sentence is complete.

Another shocking blow to the Father. His lips hang open in disbelief. For one, two, three seconds before he zips back up. Concealing his thoughts behind a courteous but very present steel barrier. 

“I—“ He starts carefully, averting away. “Surely you don’t need to be taught—“ 

“But I’m pure, Father.” You counter. Searing into his angular profile. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to—“ 

Cool fingers gently tilt your chin upward. To brand his correction into your memory. 

“Suguru.” The Chaplain’s voice glides lower than your inhibition. 

Something says that he won’t correct you a third time. 

Despite the temperature maintaining the same degree, a sharp jolt of pleasure straightens your spine as your nipples pebble against the silky fabric. You gnaw your cheeks to keep from physically squirming.

“S—Suguru.” You repeat. Subservience wets your drooling sex in a way that makes you want to keep following commands. 

Suguru’s tone rubs the folds in your brain smooth. 

“Good. Quick learner.” A pleased grin blooms across his lips. “I’ll start with focusing on you.”

The two of you slowly peel away from one another. Crashing waves replace the heady silence. 

Well, silence other than your heartbeat rattling between your ears. In your periphery, the Chaplain is now peering outward, at his true home. The coast is clear to return your greedy eyes back to his acute, feline features. 

Just enough of his mane is tied back to reveal a pretty mulberry dusting his high cheekbones and pointed nose. 

A pleasant surprise to know the demigod warms like the mortals he walks amongst.

“You’re blushing, Suguru.” Girlish satisfaction heavy on your tongue. 

Another decadent chuckle pets your womanhood. And this time you have to swallow a moan.

“As are you, Duchess.”

“Darling? There you are!” Ezra’s voice is just as, if not more sobering than his footsteps approaching. 

Too soon. 

Time bows at Suguru’s feet. The concept doesn’t exist around him. Someone, be it Arella or Noel or now, your soon-to-be husband, someone always has to physically draw you back to the present. 

Reality never comes on time. Always too late. Or in your case, always a little too early. 

The Chaplain is on his feet in seconds. He swiftly lifts you from the edge and sets you on solid ground. Leaving you dizzied and breathless on the surface. 

Guilty and red-handed beneath it. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Ezra paws at the soiled fabric, concern etched into his face. “Your dress is completely ruined.”

“I’ll live.” You’re sharper than intended. Surely, from the spirits still thrumming through your veins. 

Ezra falters like a wounded puppy. And it tugs on your tattered heartstrings.

“Thank you for the concern, Ezra.” You soften, thumbing his cheek. Purposefully avoiding the violet beams aimed at your face. And shoulders. And hands. 

As if the Priest is daring you to keep provoking his searing gaze. 

But your fiancé unravels under your rare display of affection. He eagerly leans over to kiss your forehead. Meanwhile your hand desperately magnets to your side. 

“Sorry for leaving so abruptly Ezra, I—I had a bit too much to drink and I needed air then—“

“Don’t give it a second thought, my love.” 

Your fiancé is gentle with you. Little strokes along the small of your back. And maybe…just maybe your reaction time is dulled because you don’t immediately flinch away.

“Individual counseling starting early then?” Ezra jests. Pristine jade eyes dance between you and Suguru. 

The Priest offers a smile about as warm as the Siberian tundra. 

“Hardly. Just ensuring the Duchess is out of harm’s way.”

Like your fiancé did with you, you flower under the pad of Suguru’s thumb. A brief swipe, to remove a stray saltwater droplet. But your skin scorches all the same. Unreasonably missing a touch that lasted all of half a moment. 

Ezra clears his throat and drops his broad, but not nearly as broad, shoulders.

“I received the memo from your office staff, Father. Please accept this as my formal agreement to proceed with individual counseling.” He reaches out and Suguru takes his hand firmly. 

“Duchess,” Suguru beckons without breaking focus on Ezra. 

“We will be begin your sessions in three days. Meet me around 8:00 AM in our garden. Yes?”

Our garden.

You are a dirty woman. 

The way your core aches at his meaningless, frivolous, harmless words. 

“Y-yes. I will be there.” A half-baked attempt at maintaining neutrality. 

Your agreement earns you Suguru’s left dimple again. You toss your gaze elsewhere before your knees commit treason. 

“Duke, is there an activity you enjoy?” Suguru probes Ezra. 

“Sailing.”

“Sailing…?” Suguru lifts an incredulous brow. Blatantly amused by his automatic response. 

Granted, you don’t know your future husband that well, but he’s never made mention of any maritime activities.

Meanwhile everyone in this country, two countries over, possibly your home country knows that water belongs to the Chaplain. The element bends to his will. 

“Are you certain about that, Duke Ahriman?”

“Yes, Father. We have quite the fleet. I think you would be impressed.” 

“Understood. You and I will set sail before Sunrise the day after tomorrow.” 

The men exchange pleasantries as they do. Ezra intertwines his loving fingers into your reluctant ones. He ushers the long night to a welcome end.

Five steps into your path home, a blistering heat snakes up your spine. Fanning your shoulders like high noon during summer solstice. 

You don’t have to do it. 

You know the source, already. 

But you do it anyway. 

Over your left shoulder, you find the Naval Prince strolling along the unstable rocky ledge with as much grace as he does flat terrain. Eyeing the tide. Searching for the perfect entry home. 

Suguru’s trident reflects stark against the moonlight. Upper body completely shed of clothing, lower body with a long, black compression garment. Heavy locks now woven in the same singular braid you met him with. Dark overhead skies somehow illuminating the ridges and shadows of his sculpted arms, and back…and chest. 

A glimpse of heaven. 

…is staring right back at you. 

Possessing you.

“Enjoy your swim!” 

The words string together without your consent. Ezra lands his attention on you, startled by the sudden crack in silence. 

And the demigod shakes his head.  One part disbelief, two parts fond. 

“Enjoy your dreams!” Suguru calls back before turning his trident to you. His night has just begun.

You walk away with your betrothed, cloaked in soiled satin and guilt. 

Were you in the wrong? Maybe so.

But your heart didn’t choose Ezra. Not yet. You aren’t sure if your heart has even chosen you. 

Arella’s gentle wave from the patio welcomes you home. Sleep suddenly descending on your heavy lids. 

At least you’re safe, here in your mind’s haven.

For now. 

     · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · 

“Fuck.” 

A tormented hand swipes the bead of moisture tickling a path down Suguru’s temple. 

0345

Obscenities seem to spill from his lips a little too easily these days. And his usual coping mechanisms are falling a little too short. 

The chaplain drags the hem of his sleepwear down to his thighs. 

Each bone, muscle and tendon is utterly spent after tonight’s swim. Every part of his body except the thick rod that springs free from its cage. 

Glistening with beads of lust. Taunting him. Making a mockery of his code of conduct. 

Thou Shall Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Wife.

“Really?” Suguru scoffs and screws his eyes shut. His nails dig into the abused sheets to keep from gripping his cock and tugging himself numb. 

How convenient. 

The Holy Book of Answers and all of its rules makes no mention of how to survive the likes of you. 

How does one circumvent murky waters when Thy Neighbor’s Wife is Aphrodite’s reincarnate? 

Suguru’s heavy, oversized length pulsates. Its blushing head lays flush with his abdomen, a few inches past his belly button. Leaking pearly arousal onto his damp skin. Still not fully air-dried from the second icy bath since returning to his quarters. 

‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me.’

You dangled your submission in front of him. 

Him, a red-blooded man. 

A ravenous, touch starved, cunt-drunk beast of man. And you sat there. With your dizzying silhouette. And puffy lips. And pert nipples, pebbling from his gaze alone.  

Did you think he couldn’t see? 

How you pressed your mouth-watering thighs together? With wide, gorgeous eyes. Desperately trying to deny yourself the indulgence. 

What if he asked you to spread your legs then and there, pretty girl? 

What if he asked you to watch his fingers pet that weeping little cunt of yours? Watch how much honey he could coax out of your needy opening. 

Because you were. 

So fucking needy.

Suguru could see it from a mile away much less sitting next to you. Tensed legs. Short gasps. Studying his features when you thought his attention lapsed. 

‘Can you teach me how to love a man?’

“Oh, sweet girl,” Suguru rolls over to settle a plush pillow between his thighs. The cool, soft cotton rubs blinding friction against his aching length. 

This is wrong. 

Immoral. 

He’s a filthy, disgusting, pervert.

Suguru lurches his hips forward in a deep thrust against the cushion. A shattered groan pushes past his clenched jaw. 

It’s a disgrace, the way saliva pooled in his mouth and cum drooled from his cock when you unveiled your purity. 

Suguru’s hips rut faster. Brutalizing the pillow. Animalistic sounds bubble out of him. 

“Fuck…fuck no..don’t..” Pathetic pleas contradict the pace he humps the fabric. Chasing the whirlpool of lust in his groin. 

Demons in hell couldn’t concoct the vile things his mind is showing him. The intricate ways he wants to violate you.

A moral stain for the church 

The priest tilts up on his knees. Fucking the pillow in earnest. Picturing its your precious, dewy center that he’s defiling. 

He could teach you, gorgeous. 

He could shape your untouched core to fit his cock like a sleeve. Perfectly molded to his veins. Slotting into your warm, wet, noble sheath with ease. 

He would have you sit on his lap for your first lesson. 

His swollen length buried inside you to the hilt. He wouldn’t thrust, not yet. Your body would just clench and squeeze and leak around his intrusion. Suguru wouldn’t retreat out of your cunt until you were begging him to. Teary eyed and drooling from every single opening. 

He could teach you. Break you. Turn you into a pretty little cockdumb puppet at his touch.

“God..nngh fuck.” Opaque fog fills his head and lungs. 

Sordid moans echo against the walls. Reflecting his sinful behavior, but Suguru is too intoxicated to care. He curls around his swollen cockhead. Feverishly jerking his abused sex. Grinding so pitifully into his hand. 

Suguru drops his head. Mumbling your name in full before spewing himself empty into his grasp, the sheets, his pillow. 

Shame warmer than the mess of cum he’s currently laying descends. Filling the fuzzy corners of his brain. 

Is he really so weak?

“Be stronger than this.” The priest hisses angrily.

Unable to lay in filth for another second, Suguru rockets out of bed. Pulling his sheets, folding his sins away. To be cleansed in the next load of laundry.

A third, icy shower serves the same purpose for him a few minutes later. Glacial droplets soak the length of his mane, again. His manhood hangs away from his body, bucking every couple moments. Threatening to steal his virtue for a second time. 

He’ll be a better man when the sun rises. 

A tired sigh escapes his lips. At least Suguru is safe, here in his mind’s haven. 

For now.  

E/N: Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Chaplain, you really have to get a handle on those pesky hands of yours. 🤭

Taglist: @blkkizzat @hayakawalove @rotteneyess

[cleo-fox]

As the Clock Strikes Midnight - Part VIII

Series Masterlist Chapter Summary: In which you lie to yourself. Chapter Warnings: Sex, p in v sex, dirty talk, praise kink, wall sex, semi-public sex, library sex, unrealistic refractory periods. Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

You don’t know what this is and you don’t know how to navigate it. 

Every night from dusk to midnight, you are in his bed. He makes you no promises and you don’t ask him to. You tell yourself that it’s meaningless, harmless, a bit of fun.

You ignore the fact that most sensible people would not define bedding a prince as a harmless bit of fun. Especially not when you’re a servant. Especially not when there’s so much that you could lose.

You ignore the fact that the longer it goes on, the more the meaningless parts start to feel substantive, the more it nudges at something in the center of your chest.

You ignore it all because if you don’t, if you stop and think very carefully about it, that’s when you will realize that you’ve wandered too far down a path that you ought not to have taken in the first place and by that point, it will be too late.

It is getting late and you are trying very hard to keep your eyes open. Your head is resting on Loki’s chest, your ear pressed against his heartbeat. His fingers have been trailing up your spine and into your hair and back down again. It’s soothing and it also gives you chills—a pleasant contradiction, much like Loki himself.

“I must leave tomorrow,” he says suddenly. “I have business on Midgard.”

“Oh,” you say. You’re not really sure how to feel about that. You’re not really sure whether you’re supposed to feel anything about that. Probably not. “How long do you expect to be away?”

He sighs. “Two months, at least. Likely more.”

“Long enough to cause trouble, I imagine,” you say lightly. There is an unexpected lump in your throat, but you’re doing your best to ignore it. There’s no reason there should be a lump in your throat; therefore it does not exist. You repeat this to yourself confidently, like saying it more than once will make it true.

“Well, naturally.” He rolls over, pulling you with him so that you are on your back and pinned beneath him. “I am the god of mischief, after all.”

“I suppose you are.” You recognize that look in his eyes. “And what mischief are you planning now, your highness?”

He hums and presses a kiss against your collarbone. “The usual sort.” He is growing hard against your belly. “I must have you at least once more before I depart on my journey.”

Despite all your complicated and confusing feelings, your body is warming to his touch, that all too familiar aching need stirring in your hips. “Only once?” you say as you open your legs to him.

“I said at least once. Try to pay attention, darling.”

In the end, he has you twice more, though the last one is quicker than you’d like, motivated by the lateness of the hour. He helps you dress and delays you once more at the door with a long and lingering kiss that you will find yourself returning to many times over the next several weeks.

“I really must go,” you murmur against his lips. “I’ll be missed if I’m away much longer.”

“Surely another minute won’t hurt,” he says, lowering his head to nuzzle the place where your neck and shoulder meet.

“I’m afraid you underestimate the power of very nosy kitchen maids.”

“Well, we can’t have that. I shall speak to Fritjof about the staffing.”

You know he’s joking, but there’s still a flicker of fear that runs through you at the sound of Fritjof’s name. “You wouldn’t,” you say, forcing your voice to sound light and unbothered.

He laughs quietly. “You’re right. I avoid speaking to that old bat whenever I can.”

You are used to hiding your true feelings about Fritjof. “He’s particular,” you say.

“He’s abhorrent,” says Loki. “If I were king, he would be the first I’d release from service.”

You can’t help but feel a little relieved by this statement. Sometimes it’s easy to feel like Fritjof’s unpleasantness is all in your head, or even just an overreaction.

You can’t say any of this, though, so you keep your expression neutral and polite. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m sure you do,” he says, a hint of a laugh evident in his voice. “You’re simply accustomed to being well-mannered about it.”

“I certainly wouldn’t say so if I was.”

He laughs quietly and runs a fingertip along your cheek. “I suppose not.”

There’s a beat of silence and the lateness of the hour strikes you once again. “I really must go,” you say.

“I know.” He looks at you carefully before leaning in to kiss you. It’s soft and gentle, almost tender in a way that makes you want to indulge in silly daydreams.

But the kiss ends, though his hand remains cupped against your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours. “I’ll send for you when I return,” he says.

You want to believe him, but there’s a part of you that’s afraid that this might be the end of your extraordinary little dalliance. Surely his attention will wander elsewhere once he returns. You hastily dismiss the thought and force what you hope is a believable smile.

“Safe travels, highness.”

You’re surprised by how immediately you feel Loki’s absence. 

It’s not just the sex, though you certainly miss that. You miss his company, his dry and sarcastic remarks, the way that his eyes light up when you say something sharp or clever. His smile, his quiet huff of laughter against your shoulder, the way his long fingers curl around yours. The way he listens, the way his brow furrows when he’s deep in thought.

You try very hard not to think about what any of that might mean.

You resume your clandestine trips to the library, but you find it’s hard not to think of Loki in a space that you associate so closely with him: here is a book that you know he likes, there is the chair he prefers. The memory of his kiss burns on your lips, the ghost of his touch seared into your skin like a tattoo.

Deep down, you know what this means, though you won’t admit it just yet. Not even to yourself.

The first few days are difficult, but after a few stumbling missteps, you slowly find your way back into the rhythm you found back before Loki upended your days.

You’re soon reminded, though, that these forbidden trips are not without their risks.

It’s only blind luck that saves you. You are coming back from the library, cutting across the dining hall to save time when you notice the lace on your boot has come undone. You bend down to tie it and it’s only then in the sudden silence that you hear footsteps approaching.

You draw back quickly into the shadows, pressing yourself flat against one of the large stone columns. From this vantage point, you can just see the doorway at the far end of the room.

A figure appears and your heart nearly flies out of your chest.

There in the flickering torchlight is Fritjof. 

You hold your breath as he crosses the room. It might be your imagination, but you would swear he looks more sinister in this light, with his beady eyes and the torchlight casting gloomy shadows across his face.

He’s a little past your column when he pauses, the sharp flare of his nostrils the only sign of life in his eerily still frame. Your heart is pounding so hard that you worry it might somehow give you away, impossible as it seems. He doesn’t know about the library, you tell yourself, willing it to be true. He doesn’t know I’m here.

His gaze sweeps over the room, his eyes squinting against the torchlight. The permanent line between his eyebrows deepens, almost as if he knows something is not quite right.

But finally, after a long moment, he seems to think better of it and continues on his way, footsteps echoing ominously in the large room.

You only let out your held breath when he leaves. You wait until his footsteps fade and then you make yourself count to one hundred before you tiptoe your way back to your room, your heart pounding the whole way.

If you were sensible, you would give up going to the library. You know that.

But with Loki gone, it’s the only thing you have to look forward to, and for that reason, you can’t quite convince yourself to give it up, though you do start taking a different route back.

And agonizingly slowly, those first four weeks pass.

On the first night of the fifth week, it occurs to you that you’re a little over halfway through. Assuming, of course, that it’s only two months and not longer like he thought it could be.

Assuming, of course, that he still wants you when he returns.

You decide that you’re not going to think about either possibility or the little blip of melancholy that creates strange tightness in your chest. It’s nothing. Nothing at all.

On the third night of the fifth week, you hear footsteps in the stacks.

It must be Fritjof.

You try not to panic as you set the book carefully on the shelf, listening intently. There was always part of you that knew that this was too risky to continue, that being discovered was always the inevitable conclusion. He’d nearly caught you once already, why didn’t you think this time would be different?

A voice comes from behind you. “And what business does a kitchen maid have in the palace library?”

There’s about a half second of terror before you realize that the voice is not Fritjof’s. 

It’s Loki’s.

Before you can turn around, strong arms are wrapping around your waist from behind, a broad chest pressing against your back. You relax almost instantly, your fear turning to something that you will later recognize as joy.

“You’re shaking,” he says, pressing a kiss against your neck.

“You frightened me half to death,” you say, your heart beating wildly, half from joy and half from fear. “I thought you were Fritjof.”

“Such grievous attacks on my character already?” he tuts against your neck, though you can feel him smiling. “Any sensible man would be offended by such a comparison.”

“He nearly caught me last week. And you’re much earlier than you said—I didn’t think to expect you.”

He presses a soft kiss against your neck. “Are you disappointed?”

“That depends on how churlish you intend to be,” you say.

He laughs and it only makes you ache for him. He turns you around and before you can get a proper look at him, he’s pulling you flush against him and kissing you deeply.

The restless, yearning ache that you’ve felt in your soul since he left finally stills when his lips touch yours. Kissing Loki feels like coming home—it feels so perfect, so right that it would scare you a little bit if there were room in your heart for any feeling other than joy.

It’s a minute or so later when he finally draws back just a little—only enough to speak. “Did you miss me?” he breathes against your lips.

Happy as you are, your first instinct is to deflect. You can’t be vulnerable. Not yet. “I would ask the same of you,” you say.

Instead of answering you directly, he presses his hips against yours so you can feel the hard length of him already straining at the confines of his trousers. You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“Now give me a proper answer,” he says, his voice dipping into a slight growl that awakens that familiar, aching heat low in your hips.

A shiver snakes up your spine. “Yes,” you say. “Very much.”

His eyes flash and suddenly he’s pressing you back against the shelf and kissing you deeply. Desperately. You arch against him as his hands palm your breasts before dropping to your hips to pull you closer still, close enough that you can’t help but feel the hard press of his cock against you.

He pulls away abruptly, grabbing you by the wrist and leading you deeper into the stacks.

“Where are we going?” There’s a breathy quality to your voice that you hope doesn’t reveal too much.

“You’ll see.”

His destination is a dark, secluded corner near a collection of atlases. Before you can ask more questions, he’s pressing you up against a wall and you realize with a thrill that he intends to have you right here in the library.

“We could be seen,” you say as he hitches up your skirts and hooks your leg up around his waist. But your voice lacks conviction and you can both hear it.

“It’s late and no one ever comes back here.” His hand slips between your thighs, pushing your undergarments aside. “And I need you now.”

It’s a thrilling admission made all the more compelling by his long fingers stroking your slick folds and circling your clit.

“Oh, you did miss me,” he breathes as he slides a finger inside of you. “My poor little kitchen maid, so slick and unsatisfied.”

You are aching and a whimper catches in the back of your throat as he presses the heel of his hand against your clit. You grab his shoulders as a second finger joins the first. “Please, I need—”

“What do you need?” he purrs as he curls his fingers. “Do you need to come before I fuck you into this wall?”

You nod, panting. “Please.”

He chuckles darkly. “Darling, you know that’s not good enough.”

Your clit is throbbing as you tense around his fingers. You’re so close and his time away has left you needy and desperate. “Make me come, Loki. Please.”

His grin is wicked. “Good girl.”

His eyes take on a particular kind of focus that you only ever see when he’s got you hot and bothered and chasing an orgasm. His fingers are fucking into you with a slow precision, the heel of his palm grinding against your throbbing clit, nudging you closer.

“You’re so close,” he says, looking at you hungrily. “I love it when you’re like this, all wild and wanton.” He licks his lips. “You’re going to have to be quiet, though. Can you do that, darling?”

You manage a nod, but barely. The leg that’s not hooked around his waist is trembling.

“I’ve got you, sweet,” he murmurs, his arm firmly squeezing your waist. “Let go. Come for me.”

Your breath is coming in quick, shallow bursts. The instruction to be quiet seemed doable at first, but the feeling that’s cresting inside of you is so much bigger and stronger than you thought. You’re not going to be able to keep quiet.

“Loki,” you gasp in the last few seconds. “I can’t—”

Somehow, he understands your meaning because he covers your mouth with his, muffling your cries as you come hard, your fingernails digging into his back as you shake so hard your leg threatens to give out.

He doesn’t stop kissing you until the last shudder pulses through you.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he says reverently. “Just lovely.”

“Please—”

You don’t have to say any more. He fumbles with the fastenings on his trousers and frees his cock. There’s no teasing, no delay as he positions himself at your entrance—he wants you too badly to play his usual games, his desire heightened by your weeks apart. He slides into you easily, lifting you fully off the floor as he sheathes himself in you. You whimper and he sighs, mumbling a string of curses under his breath.

“Norns, I missed this,” he murmurs, leaning back in to kiss you.

If you’d planned things properly, you would be back in his room or somewhere private where you could be as loud as you needed to be. This reunion has awoken something primal and hungry in both of you and staying quiet is a struggle. His hips take up a quick pace, driving into you with a speed and force that speaks to the profound need that had brought you to the corner of the library in the first place. He quickly finds the angle that makes you see stars and soon enough, you’re trembling around him.

“You take my cock so well, darling,” he mumbles against your throat, teeth scraping against the tender skin. “So good for me, so tight.”

“I’m so close—”

“I know, lovely, I can feel you.” He presses his forehead against yours, emerald eyes intent. “Come with me,” he grits out.

You keep your eyes locked with his until the force of your orgasm tips your head back against the wall, your eyes fluttering shut as you clench around his cock. He is close behind, gasping out your name as he buries his face in your neck.

It’s a good minute or so before he withdraws, and he seems reluctant to do so. There is something decadent and scandalous about his spend dripping down the inside of your thigh, but you decide you rather like the feeling. It makes you feel like his in a very raw and primal way.

You try not to think about the fact that you have any desire to be his.

He takes your hands in his and a green light spreads over the two of you. When it dissipates, you find yourself in his chambers, in front of his bed.

“You couldn’t have done that earlier?” you ask.

“It requires some concentration and my mind was singularly occupied,” he says. “I can’t imagine that you would have been very pleased had we arrived in separate places.”

He is right, but you don't want to say as much.

“I’d thought that your skill with magic was too great for such silly mistakes,” you say instead.

“I see my absence has not blunted your tongue.”

You smirk. “I hope you didn’t expect it to. I could not bear for you to be disappointed.”

He chuckles. “Not at all.”

He kisses you again and it’s slow and intimate in a way you don’t expect, in a way that warms you from the inside out.

“I’ve quite forgotten what you look like in my bed,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I suppose I could remind you,” you say.

He kisses you once more. “Turn around.”

He undoes the buttons on the back of your dress with achingly slow precision, pressing soft kisses against the back of your neck and all along your shoulders and spine. Your dress and then your shift and undergarments fall to the floor until you are bare before him.

His fingertips lightly trail along your rib cage and under the curve of your breasts. You suck in a shaky breath. You’ve just had him, but you’re already aching for him again.

His thumbs brush against your nipples and a soft moan falls from your lips.

“You can’t possibly need me again so soon,” he says, but you can tell from the rasp in his voice that this is not one-sided in the slightest. “You’re still dripping with my seed.”

You arch your back so that your ass presses against the growing bulge in his trousers. “You speak as though I am the only one with such a need.”

He hums, pressing back against you. “Perhaps you’re not.”

You look over your shoulder. “Well, your highness?”

He laughs low in his throat, one hand sliding between your legs, gently circling your still sensitive clit. “And here I thought you would be too sated for such boldness.”

“Perhaps you’ll have to try harder this time.”

You’re immediately gratified by the feeling of his bare skin at your back and you barely suppress a shiver. Typically if he resorts to magic to remove his clothes, it ends quite enjoyably for you.

“Perhaps I’ll fuck the boldness right out of you,” he says, his voice growing dark in a way that makes the muscles of your cunt ache in anticipation. You bend at the waist, bracing your hands against the edge of the bed to support yourself as he drags his cock along your dripping folds. “You speak sharply now, but we both know that you turn into a whimpering mess the moment you have my cock in your tight and greedy cunt.”

Quite suddenly, he’s at your entrance and pressing into you, his passage eased by the heady combination of your slickness and his come from earlier. Your back arches and you push up on your tiptoes, trying to take him deeper.

You can’t quite help the sigh that escapes your lips, even though it causes him to chuckle because it proves his point. His fingers massage your clit and you shudder, letting out a soft moan.

“Oh, you’ll have to do better than that, darling,” he says. “It’s been weeks since I last heard you scream for me.”

You cast a glance over your shoulder. “Like I said, highness: you’ll just have to try harder.”

His eyes darken in a way that makes you shiver. “You’ve grown bolder in my absence, love.”

You smirk. “Then teach me a lesson.”

Your intention is to goad him into fucking you hard enough to make the ache of these last few weeks disappear. His wide, feral grin makes you think you might have succeeded.

“Well, darling,” he purrs, his hips snapping hard against you in a way that makes your toes curl, “if you insist.”

He slips easily into a brisk pace, his fingers rubbing languorously at your clit. The contrast between the two is enough to make you moan in a way that’s so so wanton it’s almost embarrassing. 

“Yes, I want to hear all of your lovely noises,” he purrs. “Let me hear how much you missed me.”

His slow pace on your clit is still at odds with the way he’s fucking you and it’s driving you absolutely wild. You’re only getting the added stimulation on every other thrust and while it feels good, it’s not helping you get any closer to coming.

You tolerate it for as long as you can stand, but eventually you can’t help but moan. “Please, Loki.”

“Please what, my love?” he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

“More.”

He knows your body well enough at this point that he doesn’t have to ask what you mean—he simply begins massaging your clit in time with the thrust of his cock, making you keen.

“Like that?”

You can only moan in assent and he lets out a low chuckle as he continues with his new pace.

This is what you really needed, you think. His large hand firm on your hips, fingers on your clit, his movements just a little rough, his skin slapping against yours as he drives into you with hard and steady thrusts. You can feel the edge starting to approach, all of your muscles tingling and tensing in anticipation of your release. 

He knows your body well—too well, perhaps—and he recognizes how your muscles tighten and twitch around his cock right before you come undone.

And he stops, withdrawing from you completely. “Not yet,” he says.

The whine you let out is perhaps the most pathetic noise you’ve ever made in your life. “Loki, please.”

He turns you around, silencing your protests with a slow, deep kiss. “I need you closer,” he mumbles against your lips.

You let him guide you down onto the bed. While you like it when he takes you from behind, there’s an intimacy to having him on top of you. You can catalog his expressions, count the flecks of gold in his green eyes. You feel simultaneously as though you are perched on a cliff of great height and peering down, but also warm and safe.

It’s a feeling that you probably ought to interrogate; instead you push it from your mind.

He kisses you as he eases back into you and you wrap your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

He’s slow and gentle with you. You thought you wanted fast and rough, but this…this is an unexpected perfection. You can feel every inch of him stretching and stroking the velvety inner walls of your cunt and every movement is somehow better than the last.

The buildup is slow and unhurried, the opposite of the library, the opposite of how he’d been driving into you mere moments before. He looks deep into your eyes, interrupted only when your lashes or his flutter shut against the rising tides within you both. It’s stirring something in your heart and you find yourself wanting to tell him that you missed this, you missed him, but the words stick in your throat and you suppose that’s probably for the best because these sort of things shouldn’t be spoken aloud when you are a servant who is bedding a prince in secret.

You shouldn’t be thinking about this. Not now. Probably not ever. Instead, you draw your focus to the coil that is slowly winding in the pit of your stomach and roll your hips up to meet his slow thrusts. You pull him down to kiss you, hoping that his focus on taking you to your peak eclipses the fact that there’s far too much feeling in your kiss.

And moments later, your toes curl one last time and you cry out as you completely unravel. He groans deeply and gives two more sharp thrusts before he succumbs to his own bliss.

He gradually slows to a halt, dropping his head to your chest as he catches his breath. You close your eyes, relishing the feel of him on top of you, still pressed inside you, the feel of his sheets on your back. You missed this. You missed him. You—

You shouldn’t continue that thought. You shouldn’t admit to that feeling, even to yourself. It’s stupid. It’s dangerous.

Don’t say it. Don’t think it.

Loki gives a satisfied sigh, breaking you out of your thoughts. “The next time I say I need to be away for weeks at a time, tell me I’m a fool,” he mumbles.

“I’ll tell you you’re a fool regardless of your travel plans,” you say.

His laughter rumbling against your bare skin might be one of the best sounds in the world. “I would expect no less.”

He eases out of you, vanishing the mess and quickly pulling you to his side. You rest your head against his shoulder and wrap your arms around his chest, draping your leg across his stomach for good measure.

“Did it go well?” you say after a moment of quiet. “Your business on Midgard, I mean.”

He sighs. “It was tedious. I’d rather have stayed here.”

You wonder if he means here on Asgard or here in bed with you. You’re not foolish enough to ask, though you are foolish enough to hope.

“I think it sounds exciting,” you say. “I’ve never left Asgard.”

“I’ll take you, someday.”

The promise in those words—and their sheer impossibility—raises a lump in your throat. “I rather think that would be frowned upon,” you say lightly.

“All the more reason for it.” He strokes a hand along your thigh. “And how did you occupy yourself without my stimulating company?”

“Oh, nothing terribly exciting,” you say. “I started reading in the library again.”

“I suppose I have been monopolizing your evenings,” he says, fingers tickling your thigh. “Though I don’t understand why you don’t simply take a book to your quarters.”

You swat at his hand. “You know that’s not permitted.”

He catches your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “Neither is this, technically.”

“Yes, well.” You clear your throat. “I’d rather not give anyone more reasons to look more closely at my evening activities for that reason.”

“Am I to understand that you prefer my bed to the finest Asgardian literature?”

“That may be your understanding, but that’s not what I said.”

“Well.” He presses a kiss against the top of your head. “I suppose I’ll have to make my bed more tempting, then.”

It’s the sort of offhand comment you write off as a silly flirtation—he doesn’t mean anything by it, surely. It’s entirely forgettable.

Except…the next night, there’s a stack of books for you beside his bed.

“What’s this?” you say, trying to ignore the lump in your throat.

“I told you I intended to make my bed more tempting,” he says.

His eyes are glittering with mischief, but the gesture itself is achingly sweet, one that plucks at your heartstrings and reminds you of all the feelings that you’re pretending you’re not having. He had retrieved the book you’d been reading last night, along with titles by authors you mentioned liking back in the garden so many weeks ago. 

That night, he makes you read aloud from a book of love poems while he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue moving in iambs and dactyls on your clit until you come with poetry and his name on your lips. In the afterglow, you curl up next to him and read while he does the same, until you need each other again. It’s a new part of your routine, one that you’ll repeat many times in the coming days.

It’s there in the hazy paradise between prose and the bliss of his touch that a small, secret voice inside of you begins to admit that as much as you say it’s a harmless bit of fun, the situation has spiraled out of control in the worst possible way:

You’ve fallen in love with him. And you know it’s only a matter of time before he breaks your heart.

Next chapter coming soon

[enderblogs-25]

"Everyone's autistic now," "Why's there so much autism," "So many kids faking autism these days."

You know. I had been suspecting I was autistic since I started to understand what that meant, around middle school. I was working with two different autistic kids in a Girl Scout troop I led with my mom, and they did/said things that felt familiar. But I didn't dare bring up those thoughts, because my little cousin was autistic, that was his thing, and I didn't want to seem like I was looking for attention.

I started looking into autism for real when I hit my 20's, because those suspicions never went away... just buried. I had been focusing on other areas of my life anyway - my transition. But that was over, and I could see that things were still "off" about me. I love diving deep into different disabilities, disorders, and mental illnesses, but avoided autism because I was scared of what I'd find. I took maybe one test, masked up and guarded as hell, and because of that it said I wasn't autistic. I didn't answer truthfully, so I went looking elsewhere. ADHD, maybe. I ended up trying to get an ADHD diagnosis, and got misdiagnosed with a personality disorder that can be misdiagnosed in autistic adults. I felt I didn't have an option but to accept the diagnosis, because I was on my way to Chicago; out of time and out of money.

Nearly six months after the misdiagnosis, while I had been looking into the personality disorder and knew for certain I didn't meet the criteria for a diagnosis, (but masked through the appointments, which is how I got it) I had worked extensively on unmasking. I learned many neurodivergencies masked, and thought I'd give unmasking a shot, soon realizing I'd been doing it forever. Once I got better at unmasking, I eventually looked into autism again. What would it hurt to be told no twice? I took a couple quizzes again. Slowed down, answered honestly, and gave every answer my full attention. And I scored high on every one. It was terrifying. But it was also... a relief? While a few of those quizzes weren't too be taken seriously, I did take tests on official sites made by and for autistic people. When I came home from Chicago in summer 2022, I told my mom and showed her all my past scores on official tests like the RAADS, one of which I take annually. Part of me still has doubts that I'm not faking it, I guess.

All of this, at least past 2021, has occurred while people have been posting their own stores about discovering and getting diagnosed as adults. While I initially started looking into things on my own, hearing these people's stories on occasion really, really helped. Random strangers on the internet in a reel telling me they'd been overlooked because they were afab, did well in school, and didn't have many other adults around to see a difference... really helped. I could sneak into the autistic tags on Tumblr and look around at posts, relate to them silently, write down my findings in my little notebook, and go about my day. This "autism boom" as it were really helped, just because everyone suddenly showing off who they are, telling the world "I'm different and that's okay," really, really... helped. I know why I've always felt different and wrong, I know why I struggle with certain things, and I know why certain things will likely never be possible on my own. That's so much better than going thrift my life wondering and beating myself up because I can't function like everyone else.

Everyone isn't suddenly being diagnosed as autistic, now. People are just... starting to listen. Starting to get more comfortable. Obtaining more resources. And it's really nice. ❤️

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

the baftas: my eyes need bleach after the livestream chat.

I SAID I WOULD COME TO TUMBLR AND SLUT-SHAME ALL OF YOU, AND YOU BET YOUR GODDAMN BILDADDY I'M HERE TO DO IT. First, a huge thank you to @good-usernames-were-taken, Valerie, for enabling this entire chaos and streaming it. And of course to Disappointment the Main Maggot.

Second, as per requests from you maggots, I have to give an honourary mention to the tragic lack of an emotional support gaseous orange, the late half-eaten packet of Lays on my desk, and my nearly empty can of Monster energy. Idk either, you asked for the mentions you got them.

Without further ado, presenting the BAFTA Awards 2024:

I am busy drawing out the neckline stitches of Crowley's wedding dress, when I am reminded of the stream and I crash into it midway. Little do I know what I am getting into.

Everyone is here for David Tennant. No one is here for the actual awards. This is made very clear very quickly.

KNEES. JUST KNEES. ALL EVERYONE TALKS ABOUT, THROUGHOUT THE STREAM, IS DAVID TENNANT'S KNEES. ARE YOU ALL OKAY WHAT THE FRESH HELL.

For context, David is in a kilt for the first half. I finally see why my relatives disapprove of skirts above knee-length. I never knew humanity's unholy worship of knees till I came here.

SOMEONE ASKS IF DAVID HAS TANNED HIS KNEES. MAGGOTS. PLEASE.

We interrupt our regular scheduled program of David knees to have an intense discussion about British versus French humour, and the misgendering of croissants.

RDJ wins an award and calls his wife his Alpha and Omega.

We're back to the knees. I can't handle how slutty David's knees are, says a worthy maggot.

This goes into a discussion about tickets for David's Macbeth, because, you guessed it, the kilt and the knees.

A lot of gorgeous and talented women in the BAFTAs tonight. I am floored.

I am not allowed to dwell in my awe because the chat is not a place of the lord. Curtain calls of Macbeth are discussed with unnecessary lasciviousness.

Thankfully, in the midst of this, I get a great Zodiac pattern reference for Crowley's wedding dress cummerbund. I was going to have to research the night sky for star charts but this is better.

People show their beautiful brainrot-induced Doc Marten purchases.

The knee thirst has moved into X-rated territory. I am terrified.

A song is sung in memory of film industry people who passed away this year, and people are sad about Dumbledore but at the same time are imagining Aziraphale and Crowley dancing to the song. The brainrot is real.

I accidentally spoil Saltburn's freakshow for someone. When I ask how I can make up for it, they say something about GOAD. I'm alarmed. Is that an OnlyFans, I ask. It's Good Omens After Dark, the chat answers. Is THAT an OnlyFans, I ask. Close enough, the chat says.

David has now changed outfits to a suit, which finally makes people pay attention to the BAFTAs, if only to alternatively thirst over the suit and bemoan the loss of knees.

Things, uh, happen, which I will have to include as quotes in another post. Cheers, @thearoacemess and @vitrilol.

Barty Crouch Jr is debated about as the Wolfstar child. Bratty Crouch Jr is said to be Crowley.

I obtain a banana, which I associate with blowjobs.

@thearoacemess talks about someone deepthroating a seven-inch banana without a hitch.

The stream does a flashback to the kilt time. It is a mistake. @queermarzipan barrels in and is being too slutty about the knees.

I tell them they need jesus, and they yell about how they've gone to mass twice today and they're an atheist.

Thankfully, @vitrilol starts chanting about the glory of Ireland. The only thing that will distract Marzipan from David Tennant is Ireland.

He proceeds to start screech-singing in all caps.

🎵IRELAND IIIRELAND TOGETHER STANDING TALLLL.🎵

The BAFTAs end. People are still thirsting over David Tennant.

🎵I KNOW YOU'RE MISSING HOME IT'S SO LONG SINCE YOU'VE BEEN🎵

Uh, more dubious things about David, suits and the absence of said suits are discussed. I'm trying my damndest not to notice.

🎵AND THE LIFE YOU HAD IN DUBLIN NOW AIN'T NOTHIN BUT A DREAM🎵

There is accidental Mascot lore: I am apparently from a different timeline (I mixed up timeline and timezone) and that's how Apollo deposited me in an illegal sushi restaurant where I became Neil Gaiman and Michael Sheen's intellectual child.

I am compared to a cat.

TOM HIDDLESTON AND DAVID TENNANT WERE IN THE STAGED-LIKE THING IN THE BEGINNING AHAHAHAHAH LOKI AND CROWLEY MY TWO CELESTIAL GENDERFLUID ICONS.

OKAY so I will end the summary here and make a list of out of context quotes in a new post. Because. Boy oh boy. That deserves its own post.

[theyanderespecialist]

Base Yandere Velvette Headcanons: I'm The Hashtag Yandere and Do What I Please

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I had this VOTE on YouTube for the next videos/headcanons and you all were more than HALF of you! Wanted to see Velvette so here she is! Headcanons on Wattpad, Tumblr, and Archive! And A YouTube video version of it! Enjoy this!] 

(Disclaimer: Velvette is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun, and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!) 

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Velvette from Hazbin Hotel- 

.Velvette is the glue that holds the two other V's together. 

.She is also the youngest of the V's and the youngest of the overlords. 

.She has high ambitions though and wants to make her status in hell top tier and everlasting. 

.She fell in love with you, one of the people that work in the Vs towers. You were not a model, and your soul did not belong to any of the V's. 

.You just knew where the money was to be made, and knew that the Vs could very well be the future of hell. 

.She had you work in her department, she wanted to make you into a model, but she chose not to. 

.As she does not want to share you with anyone else. 

.Though she personally designs clothes for you, you really are her doll. 

.She dresses you up how she likes you to look, and does your hair how she likes it. 

.You are more or less a dress-up doll for her and because she is an overlord you really cannot say no to her. 

.Besides you do not mind as much cause she has the best style and she actually does make you look really fucking good. 

.She would see you when you are her partner as needed to uphold the Vs brand, so you have to look as stylish as possible. 

.She is also the backbone of the V's and is willing to go after what she wants even willing to fight other overlords. 

.this affects you as she is willing to fight for you and throw down for you. 

.She will get right in the thick of it and beat the living shit out of anyone that tries to steal you away from her. 

.She is your partner and if some unlucky bitch tries and steals you away from her, well they are good as double dead. 

.She is a bit of a critical and judgy yandere, she knows when you are looking at others and she is very critical of it. 

.She is also very judgy of anyone you are interested in. 

.She will verbally belittle them and mock them, telling them how worthless they are and how pathetic they are. 

.She will make them feel like absolutely vile creatures for daring to catch your attention. 

.That or she will just kill them. It depends on her mood that day. 

.She is also VERY Observant, she can tell when anyone takes an interest in you, which she puts a stop to right away. 

.She also can tell if you are into her or not. 

.Which allows her to manipulate your feelings and make it so that you do start to develop feelings for her. 

.That is right she is also a very manipulative yandere, and will also most likely gaslight you as well. 

.She is all about the grind, girl boss, and gaslight lifestyle. 

.She is also very quick-witted and quick on her feet. 

.She can react very fast and well to learning new things. So she can outsmart you and be several steps ahead of you as well. 

.She knows that she is the best option for you and that you are the best option for her. 

.She will possibly drug you, with her love potion. 

.Cause that is right, she is great at cooking and potion making. 

.She in canon uses Valentino Phermone salvia to help make a love potion which I suppose works like a aphrodsiac, ectasy, and possibly the Date R Word Drug maybe. 

.She would use it on you as a very last resort. She rather not use it, but she is not above sinking that low to be with you. 

.She also might make a new potion to make you have feelings for her. 

.In which you are still yourself but you are attracted to her and want to be with her and only her. 

.Again that is a last resort. She will sink that low, but only as the very last option. 

.She will keep Valentino away from you, threatening to cut off his dick if he tried anything with you. 

.She also gets along with Vox very well so she uses his cameras to keep an eye on you, and make sure you are safe when not with her. 

.She is FOR SURE 1000 percent a stalker type of yandere. 

.In which she stalks your socails medias, stalks you with Vox camera, and has put cameras and micrphones in your home. 

.She knows where you are (Most likely is tracking you.) at all times. 

.If you step to close to other Overlord's territories she will remind you that you work for her and that you are hers! And NO ONE Else's so stay where you are allowed to go! 

.She is low key a very controlling yandere. 

.She is also a very good cook and cooks for you all the time. She uses it as a way to smooth over any arguments. 

.And she will drug the food to if she needs to. 

.If worse comes to worse she will chain you to her bed and make sure that you can never ever leave her. 

.She rather not do that, but she will is she has to. 

.She also LOVES To show you off, you are her trophy darling and a prize that she has. 

.She is going to make sure all of hell knows that you are hers and hers alone. 

.How she deals with rivals, verbally, socially, emotionally, and physically ruining them and humiliating them. 

.Most like making a public example of them and what happens when someone tries to steal you away from her. 

.She would confess to you and offer a marriage soul contract. Where you give her your soul and become her spouse. 

.If you accept this, you will sign and there will be no escape she will own you and you will be hers for the rest of the time. 

.If you reject the proposal and her feelings, well be ready to be drugged and have her force you to sign it. 

.One way or another you will give her your soul, it just matters how many freedoms you want, cause if she has to force you to sign it. 

.You can be sure to be changed to the bed while she punishes you for trying to say no to her. 

.You never say no to her, you belong to her, and you are damn lucky she loves you, or she would let Val punish you for telling her no. 

.She would never actually let Val touch you, but she would threaten it, just to scare you into being a good partner. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS finally got this chapter done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy!] 

[realsafari]

ATTENTION TO ALL USERS OF THE HELLSITE!

MY FRIEND DOREEN (SHE/HER) LIVES IN KAKUMA KENYA, WHICH HAS A RELATIVELY LARGE LGBTQ+ POPULATION. RECENTLY, THERE HAVE BEEN CRACKDOWNS FROM MILITARY AND POLICE TARGETING LGBTQ+ INDIVIDUALS, USUALLY BY TORTURE, SEXUAL ASSAULT, AND/OR EXECUTION.

—————————————————————

She has asked me to share her story on my blog, since it has more outreach than her own. For direct questions, first person accounts, and interaction with her, please visit her blog @transdoreen !

THE FOLLOWING TEXT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

The following is copied exactly from a message she sent me, with some minor edits for spelling and grammar as English is not her first language.

“We have been surviving on fundraisers, but recently we haven’t been doing so well.

Our situation has become worse. We can’t be treated in the public hospital that is around. Sometimes, they chase us away, sometimes they even do worse. One of our LGBTQ+ comrades here, a lesbian named Joan, was raped and murdered by a doctor who said he will turn her straight. She was one of the biggest advocates for our freedom.

So we face alot of challenges. We have to seek private medication which is expensive. We cannot do anything here, as we are attacked on sight.

We get small food portions. Sometimes we are attacked, and the food is taken away.

LGBTQ+ women have no access to sanitary pads, and they use dirty clothes and sand during that period.

Anytime we sleep without others staying awake to lookout, our shelters get attacked and burnt down.

The challenges are so many.”

I know for a fact that most of us can’t even fathom these horrors that Doreen and her friends + family are experiencing.

I wish I could help more than simply making a Tumblr post.

————————————————————————————

HERE IS A LINK TO DOREEN’S GOFUNDME, WHICH IS HER ONLY SOURCE OF INCOME TO SURVIVE. PLEASE DONATE AS MUCH AS YOU CAN.

EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DONATE, PLEASE SEND THIS POST TO AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE. EVERY REBLOG HELPS.

PLEASE TALK TO DOREEN HERSELF, @transdoreen , FOR MORE INFORMATION.

Nakupenda Doreen, na natumai hii inasaidia. 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈

[plague-of-insomnia]

Hi, I saw a post a while ago looking at the original Japanese version of Sebastian's "I have gone through great pain to cultivate you" that I just can't seem to find anymore.

I have a feeling that it might have been one of yours, but it doesn't seem to be in the masterlist and Tumblr's search engine is no help. Do you know if that is a post you remember making or have any idea where else I might have luck finding it?

Thanks :)

Hey, this was a great ask and I'm sorry for the delay in replying. I've been really low on spoons and wanted to be sure I gave this question the attention it deserves.

So I was not the one who did that post, so that explains why you couldn’t find it. But perhaps this was the one you meant? It’s a really long one and only talks a little about that moment but I figured you may wanna see it anyway even if it’s not what you had hoped to find.

But I believe that post is using a fan translation (or maybe a version from the monthly chapters and not the volume, and changes were made in between those two releases) because their English translation is not the same as the one I have.

And now that we’ve gotten to this moment in the anime too, I thought we could compare the different versions:

The original Japanese manga version

The translation used in the cited post

The official English manga translation

The official English anime translation

My thoughts on all of this and how *I* would translate it

So I thought I would take this time to go ahead and look at this section myself and give my own thoughts on the translation/what Yana maybe was going for here.

This is gonna be a LONG post, so buckle up.

Below is from the cited post, with the Japanese side by side the English version they used.

Let’s look at the Japanese first.

Japanese

Sebastian says in the original:

せっかく

育てて

きたんです

掠め取られては

たまらない

A bit literally, this is what it means:

(I’ve) taken great pains

to raise (you) / nurture (you) / foster (your) growth

(for you) to be stolen (away from me)

is intolerable

Old Post English Translation

I went through the trouble of

cultivating** it.

So I won’t let myself be

robbed* of it.

Official English Manga Translation

I have gone to great pains to

cultivate** you.

I cannot afford

to have him steal* you away.

Official English Anime Translation

I’ve gone to the trouble of raising** you.

I won’t stand for anyone snatching* you away now.

My Thoughts

So now you've seen the original Japanese, with a fairly literal translation to give you a sense of the core meaning of what's being said here along with 3 different English translations: a fan (or older) translation, the official English manga translation from the volume and the official English anime sub from Crunchy Roll (specifically; other anime sites may have different sub translations).

So let's first look at the part about Seb losing out on Ciel, the bit about something being taken from him.

The word that Yana uses is shown above, kasumetoru, which you can see according to jisho.org means to snatch or steal. We saw three different English words used for this: rob, steal, and snatch, all of which fit with the Japanese meaning. I'll leave off my opinions on what I would pick until the end. But you can see that you can't really fault either of the three translators for their choice as each works in the context and with the original intent of the word itself.

But what about the more controversial part? The REASON Sebastian can't stand to have Ciel taken from him?

Let's first look at the original word Yana used:

You can see it has three possible meanings:

to raise/rear/bring up;

to train/teach/educate;

to promote the growth of/nurture/foster/develop

Now let's look at the ways the three above English translations approached this word:

Both manga translations went with "cultivate," while the anime went with "raise." How well do these two words fit with the original? Well, let's look first at how the English word "cultivate" is defined according to dictionary.com; pay attention especially to the highlighted definitions:

Those three meanings all align well with the three from the original Japanese, don't they? OK. But what about "raise"? How well does that work? That word has over thirty possible definitions, so I won't post them all here, only what's pertinent, but you can see them all here if you're especially curious.

Only two align with the context/meaning intended in this scene:

As you can see, the first of these two, "to grow or breed, care for, or promote the growth of" is a synonym for "cultivate." The second is the one that the dadbastian fans are latching hard onto, but that isn't completely disjoined from a couple of the meanings of cultivate, and that does fit with the various Japanese meanings.

So who did it better? How would I translate this?

Translation is not a science; it's tricky especially when you're moving from two languages that are as different from one another as English and Japanese are. The way Yana uses layered meanings makes things even more challenging. Sometimes, it comes down to simple preference on the part of the translator. That seems to be the case here, as I cannot really say anyone got things "wrong," despite having three disparate translations for the same lines.

I think I would have translated it this way:

I have taken great pains to cultivate you; I shan't stand anyone snatching you away.

Firstly, I know the first translation went with “it” as in “Ciel’s soul,” but I think “you” is a stronger choice here, and it’s what the other two translators went with, perhaps since Sebastian is directly speaking to Ciel here.

As for the rest, I personally prefer "taken great pains" over "gone through a lot of trouble," partly because it's less modern sounding and to me fits the way Sebastian speaks. I also like "cultivate," over "raise," because I think it not only fits Sebastian's manner of speech better (and we know he doesn't want to be seen as Ciel's parent), but it also has a more immediate and direct association with food. Yes, we "raise" food (as we see above they're interchangeable in English in this meaning), but I think that when English-speaking people read or hear that word they think more about kids first.

While ofc Sebastian HAS raised Ciel—he's fostered his education, watched out for his health and made sure he can pass as an earl, etc.—those are means to an end. Sebastian's main goal is to eat Ciel's soul, which he has already spoken about wanting to perfect so it'll be the most delicious it can be. Thus, I think keeping that association while having us remember his ultimate agenda is why "cultivate" is a slightly better choice than "raise."

The bit about Seb finding losing Ciel intolerable is where we see the most variation in the translations, and that's largely likely because the Japanese only needs a word while we need a whole phrase in English for it to make sense. I like "I shan't stand" because it's stuffy and old-fashioned and more possessive than some of the above options, in my opinion.

I also decided to go with "snatch" over stolen or robbed because that's in the Japanese definition and since literally Sebastian was imagining Undertaker scooping Ciel up and taking him away, I figured it fit.

So you can now decide for yourself how you'd like to interpret/translate this section, and you're welcome to dislike my version and prefer one of these others, too.

However, I think anyone who latches solely on the "raise a child" aspect of the meaning here is not paying attention to the full context of the story, characters, and layers of meaning in the Japanese original.

[gyuworm]

LOVE BLINKS ✰ established relationship / fluff

; in which minho has his own special way of showing his love to you.

pairing. lee know x gn! reader

cw. none.

minho shifted in his seat, his eyes falling onto you who sat across the room from him on the couch with jeongin. a smile broke across your face before you burst into laughter at something the younger boy had said.

a soft smile of his own began to take over his features. his heart squeezing gently the way it always does when he’s around you.

you turned your head to look at minho, his eyebrows scrunching mischievously once you locked eyes. once he was sure he had your attention he blinked slowly, exaggerating the movement the way he always does.

he started the habit of love blinking towards you after a conversation you had a few months ago. you had approached him with tears in your eyes asking for an explanation as to why he wasn’t more physically affectionate in public. was he embarrassed of you? did he not want his friends to know he loved you? was he falling out of love?

his heart broke at your questions, confused on how you could be so cruel to yourself. how you couldn’t see the beauty and love that radiates off of you and warms him.

he had taken time to calm you first before explaining that he just preferred to keep his love for you private because it was truly nobody’s business but your own.

you had nodded along telling him you understood but he could tell you were still upset about it. and that’s when he made a promise to find a way to express his love with you no matter what was happening.

at first you didn’t even acknowledge the blinking. when you did take notice to it you would give him a funny look before turning away in confusion. one time you even asked him about it and he just laughed.

he didn’t initially intend to keep it a secret but after awhile it was just a bit too fun to see your knitted eyebrows and pouted lips as you racked your brain for the reason he was doing it.

minho opened his eyes, smile still evident on his face as he watched for your usual confused reaction.

instead his heart skipped as you slowly closed your own eyes back at him, mimicking the movement the same way minho does. your fingers shaping a small heart in front of you to let him know you love him too.

his eyes began to close again but this time it was from the large grin taking over his face.

masterlist

author's note. - suddenly had this idea for lino so i wrote this teehe

© gyuworm. all rights reserved - tumblr is my only platform. do not copy , repost , steal , or translate any of my works.

[conkers-thecosy]

Five Fic Feedback!

Tagged by: No one! Seen this floating about a few fandoms, and decided to bring it over to bagginshield!

Rules: Pick five fics you've written, then tell us about how you feel about it vs how readers have received it!

1 - Bad Blood

My Thoughts: This one is way bigger than I meant it to be! It was going to be about 5k words and the only scene I had in my head was Bilbo biting the elven guard, haha! Readers: People really seem to love this one! I feel like feral Bilbo is always a crowd-pleaser, and this fic got much more attention than I ever expected it to! - 2 - Soldier My Thoughts: I'm really proud of this one. It was my first bagginshield fic, and it was after a loooong break from writing. Even though it's a bit weak in places, I have such a soft spot for it. Readers: I ended up re-posting this one after some harassment kicked my confidence down the toilet, but since then the reception has been very positive! - 3 - Poet My Thoughts: I'm sorry to say it, but this is probably my least favourite fic I've written. If it wasn't so popular I'd have removed it and altered the end of Soldier so it was just one fic! Readers: This fic seems to be very popular, and was the first time someone made art of my work - and more than once! I remember posting the first chapter and not expecting very much, only to come onto tumblr and see random posts where folks were super excited to see it was updating! It was such a lovely feeling! - 4 - My Ego Dies My Thoughts: I genuinely love this one, I think it's probably my personal favourite. I really enjoy playing about with the idea of "forgiveness" between Bilbo and Thorin, and this fic really scratched a particular itch for me! Readers: Probably my least popular fic - statistically, at least! I've found most folk weren't into it for one reason or another, but the people who love it, really, really love it! -

5 - Stealing Moments, Moments Away My Thoughts: I wish I'd taken more time with this one in some ways, but in others it really is the reshirement fic I wanted to tell. Again, I got to tinker with that "forgiveness" trope, and have a good look at what survival might realistically have meant for Thorin. Readers: This one is a quick read, and it's soft and fluffy, so I think readers enjoy it for that reason, though I believe some found it a bit boring. It was being updated almost daily, and the folks who were invested came back to comment and read practically every time I updated, which was just amazing to me! - 6 - Backs To The Wall (Sorry, I've written six, so I wanted to do all of them!) My Thoughts: I wrote this because it was something I wanted to read, and couldn't find. It's been amazingly fun, and I told myself when I started (knowing it was going to be fairly long - even if I didn't realise quite how long at the time, haha) that I wasn't going to take it too seriously, and I was really only writing this for myself, as the most self-indulgent kind of nonsense, ever! Readers: I can't begin to tell you how utterly blown away by the response to this I've been. Like?? It's just crazy to me how much folks are enjoying this, how excited and supportive everyone has been! I've been so grateful for everyone reading, and genuinely shocked down to my bones, haha! 💛 - No pressure tags for: @fantasyinallforms @lucigoo @lordoftherazzles @domesticgoddesswriter @thatfancygirlinwhite @lauramkaye @sass-y-squatch @mintedwitcher (and honestly anyone else who sees this and wants to do it, *waves a wand* you are Tagged!)

[definitelynotstable]

Feverish [Ghost x fem!Reader]

AN: Hey sexies! I haven’t used Tumblr since I was like 13 (which was a while ago) and I haven’t written fanfic in a while either. I find it hard to like things without them consuming me and the current addiction is CoD. It started with CoD mobile - me and the flatties play each night and then I rediscovered Modern Warfare and realised MW2 existed. Instantly obsessed. Why are they all so fine???????? Anyway. I haven’t written creatively since like high-school so I’m rusty and there is lots I don’t know. Go easy on me babes x

Synopsis: "Holy shit, you're burning up!" – reader is sick, Ghost is worried. Word count: 1.7k Ghost x reader (callsign “Rags” don’t ask why) not proof-read i have adhd babes x

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

5am just wasn’t the ideal wake-up time. Something you should’ve thought about before joining the military. Something you definitely should’ve taken into account when accepting a position in such an esteemed taskforce. The 141 rarely took breaks. When you weren’t on active duty you were at base training. Price was a stern but fair Captain. His drills were consistent and hard, pushing you all to your limits but still allowing you to grow as a team.

But Price wasn’t in charge of training today. Nor had he been for the last week. Away on some need-to-know mission he had left his lieutenant in charge. Simon “Ghost” Riley. Less consistent, far more stern but just as fair as the Captain - Ghost’s drills were significantly more difficult.

You stretched carefully, rotating your neck from side to side and sighing as it clicked. You could hear voices down the hall and the distant rumble of the kettle. Soap and Gaz no doubt. Now fully dressed you pulled on your boots and shuffled down the hall.

“Morning boys.” You yawned, pulling out a chair and slumping to lean against your crossed arms on the table.

“Morning, Rags,” Gaz echoed back to you, Soap grunting in acknowledgment as he poured his coffee.

“Any clue what the LT has in store for us today?” You ask, watching as Soap fiddled with the french-press.

He huffed as he settled into the chair across from you, nursing a mug between his scarred hands. “Somethin’ horrid, nae doubt, he’s been in a bad mood since Price took his leave.”

“I’ll say,” Gaz scoffed tipping the dregs from Soap’s press into his mug and heaping in sugar, “can barely feel my arms after yesterdays drill.”

You groaned rubbing your eyes, “yeah, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I don’t recall there being any trucks involved in the drill yesterday - but that can be arranged.”

The bored voice drawled from the doorway, Lieutenant Ghost himself stood, legs shoulder width apart, arms folded across his broad chest. The man took up the entire goddamned doorframe.

Resisting the urge to stand at attention you cracked a sheepish smile. The 141 weren’t one for formalities.

‘Morning LT,” Gaz took the words out of your mouth from where he leaned against the sink, “got more pain in store for us today?”

“If you though yesterday was painful, sergeant, you’ve got a big storm coming.” Ghost turned go head out. “Gym in 10.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

He wasn’t kidding. Today was worse. The lieutenant had designed a circuit so difficult even Gaz was complaining - something usually only Soap had the gall to do. God you were tired. You hadn’t struggled this hard to complete a drill since basic training as an unfit and unmotivated 18 year old. “Pick it up Sergeant!” Ghost barked from across the room as the battle ropes slipped form your sweaty hands. You grit your teeth and did as asked, only two minutes to go.

“Fuck!” You swore under your breath as the rope thunked against the floor, leaving your grasp again. You quickly squatted to pick it up, hoping the Lieutenant hadn’t noticed. You flinched as his stern voice echoed through the gym but it was Soap on the receiving end, the man smirking as Ghost yelled at him to keep form.

You turned your focus back to the ropes, planting your more firmly as you noticed your form starting to waver. God you felt like you were about the keel over.

“Pick up the pace Sergeant!” The voice came from your left, flinching to hear the Lieutenant so close. Feeling worse by the second you did as you were told, pushing every last inch of energy into the ropes in front of you.

He’ll be gone soon, you told yourself, He’ll move on to yell at Gaz and I can slow my pace.

But the hulking figure in your periphery remained and you found your resolve wavering. Without warning the world tilted dramatically and your cheek was bouncing off the sweat covered foam on the floor. The distant clanking of weights came to a stop and impeccably polished and shined boots filled your vision. Ghost.

“Rags!” Gaz thumped to his knees beside you, yanking you into a sitting position. His worried face swimming in your vision.

“Settle down, Gaz,” Soap spoke as he pulled him back and someone else came to kneel in front of you. A water bottle was pushed into your hands and a cool but rough hand landed gently on your forehead.

“Christ you’re burning up!” The lieutenant rarely swore outside of the field, you must be on fire.

“Yeah no shit,” Water dribbled down your chin as you took a swig of water, “that was a tough drill LT.”

Soap coughed out a laugh from where he stood behind Ghost, "Aye, I reckon he's sayin' ye've got a fever, lass.”

You scoffed, batting back the lieutenants hand, “I think I would know if I had a fever, I just need a rest.”

“Your dripping in sweat,” Ghost retorted cooly.

“We were just working out.“

“You fell over -“

-“It happens-“

‘Not to you.” The lieutenants voice was firm. “Not to us. We are special forces military - we don’t just ‘fall over’.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, you knew he was right. Leaning forward, Ghost looped his arms under yours and pulled you firmly to your feet. You wavered slightly, his grip on you the only thing keeping you standing.

“You need rest.”

Gaz popped into view, eager, “I can take her back too her room, LT!”

Ghost swung his gaze over the young sergeant who shrank back immediately, “if you thought this was the end of training for today, you’re wrong. You and Soap still have a minute left. I want you halfway through the next set once I’m back.”

Laughing Soap clapped Gaz on the back, “Come on lad. Let the LT look after Rags, we don’t give up so easily.”

You scoff, “Rude.”

“Get well soon, Lass,” Soap winked, pulling Gaz back to his station as Ghost led you out of the gym.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

“You really don’t need to lead me to back to my room, I know the way.”

“We aren’t going to your room,” Ghost grunted, his hand hovering behind your shoulder blades as you wavered.

You looked up, frowning as you locked eyes with him. “I don’t need to go to the infirmary, LT. I just need a nap.”

The man shrugged, gently pushing you forward. “We have free healthcare, may as well use it.”

“God you’re relentless,” you muttered, missing how his eyes crinkled through the mask.

“To a fault, sergeant.”

The nurse in the infirmary whistled as she read your temp.

“Good thing you brought her here, Lieutenant,” she turned to you with her hands on her hips, ‘you’re dehydrated, hun. I’m keeping you here overnight or until your fever breaks.”

“Really? I can never sleep in here, it’s too bright.” You felt like a child under the stern stares of the nurse and Ghost who stood beside her, arms crossed.

“We can dim the lights if you’d like, sergeant,” the nurse offered, bustling around while she prepped an IV, “but you’re staying here until I say.”

You sank lower in the bed, letting your chin fall against your chest.

“I usually sleep with an eye-mask.” You mumble, embarrassed.

“What was that, hun?”

Ghost steps closer with a single nod, “speak up sergeant.”

You cleared your throat, feeling silly. “I usually wear an eye-mask.”

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” the nurse smiled, pulling your arm to the side, “small pinch.”

You sucked in a breath as the needle slid home.

“Where is it?”

You looked up, surprised the lieutenant was still there. “Where’s what?”

“Your eye mask.” Ghost responded, arms still crossed.

“Oh,” you wince slightly as the nurse hooked up the fluids to the port on your arm, “uh don’t worry about it LT, one of the boys can grab it later I’m sure.”

“I’m here now. Where is it?”

You met his eyes, surprised. “My room, either on my bedside table or in the top drawer.”

Ghost leaves with a curt nod, the curtain swishing behind him. You sigh, leaning back into the pillow behind you, praying it’s lying on top and not in the drawer that holds a variety of items you definitely don’t want your Lieutenant seeing.

By the time he returns you’re half asleep in your fever-induced delirium. The lights are dimmed but your eyes still burn. He gently lays the mask on the bed next to your arm and makes to leave.

“Thanks LT.” You say with a rasp, cracking your eyes open further.

He looks up, blue eyes meeting yours. “Though you were asleep.”

You laugh softly, “Wasn’t kidding when I said I couldn’t sleep without it.”

“Mm.” He grunts in acknowledgement. “Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?” He stops, hand on the door handle.

“Thanks for today.”

He nods sharply, not sure how to respond. “Thank me when your back in fighting shape, sergeant."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Masterlist

[the-s1lly-corner]

Sending this because I think Tumblr might’ve eaten it, but did you ever receive a request for the TADC crew with a small, but EXTREMELY feisty S/O? Tumblr has a bad habit of eating my asks when I’m on anon I’ve found. 😭

TADC crew w/ a short and feisty reader!

hello hello anon! im so so so sorry for not seeing this sooner :( i truly did not mean to take so long to answer this! rechecking through my inbox, i dont see the original request :( but ill be answering it here so not to worry! getting silly by hopping onto my laptop/computer since its in the dining room rn and this way i can keep an eye on my macarons (literally not baking them, drying them out before i do and i wanna make sure no one touches them)

CAINE:

honestly in the most blunt way possible i think he might actually be into it. he always liked him someone who has a little bite in them (and by always he means like, when he first met you because its highly likely youre his first partner)

if you get all riled up trying to defend him he might comically tug on the collar of his shirt, of which steam will stream out of... doesnt have much of a preference for height, but with you being on the shorter side it makes carrying you around a little less awkward!

POMNI:

absolutely taken aback when you just let it rip one day and you go off on someone (most likely jax lets all be real here for a minute), just stands there appalled before you eventually calm yourself down and turn your attention to her

not to yell at her, she hasnt done anything wrong

honestly... nervous anxious ball x angry defender is probably another trope of mine that i think about every so often, but honestly i love it so so much. thats literally just the embodiment of you and pomni's dynamic

not much to say here unfortunately </3 just that you tend to defend her when things get ugly and you dont tend to stop until the issue is resolved

RAGATHA:

honestly maybe im biased for ragatha because ive grown on her since ive opened requests, but i think that she would be the queen of getting you to chill out when something has you all riled up! is so so kind and doesnt make fun of your height, i mean its not like you or anyone can change it. very good at not making you feel less than for being shorter than nearly everyone else

holds

if you get angry on her behalf and attempt to defend her she would be so so touched, but really most things probably roll right off her back, so she just takes you and walks you away from the scene

JAX:

honestly he thinks its a little funny that you get so worked up over things! probably calls you an ankle biter as a joke, which might make you a little mad. definitely picks you up by the scruff or the back of your shirt or whatever! really any equivalent of that works! jax has an entire arsenal of nicknames for you, all based on your height and energy. he loves seeing the way your face scrunches up a little in disdain when he calls you one of those names. all in good fun, for the most part, but he might let up if its something that makes you genuinely upset...

KINGER:

okokokokok so we dont know anything about queenie (i think, i must admit i dont keep up with gooseworx at all and am only relying off of the pilot) but i hc her to also be more on the feisty side

is this relevant? really it depends, because i think kinger would be comforted by the familiarity of your attitude, but also this could be a gateway for angst because it makes him think and dwell on the loss of queenie.... up to you!

subconsciously kneels down to your height to talk to you; he doesnt mean to be rude! it just sort of happens! thinks your fierceness is endearing in its own silly way!

ZOOBLE:

probably thinks that you can get a little overwhelming sometimes. i mean yeah sure its nice to have someone in your corner whos ready to help you out but zooble seems to be the type to not seek that help out; and in fact i can easily see them getting annoyed by someone constantly speaking for them. so you guys are going to need to communicate and work on this together lest there be a build of resentment

remember guys resentment is a real thing and it can ruin so much !! communicate!!!

that aside, i dont think they would comment much on your height, they really could not give less of a flying fuck

GANGLE:

torn between having her be intimidated by you or having her also find it endearing (and perhaps even attractive? shy person liking the one who always speaks their mind, you know?) while im not writing these to be explicitly romantic, i dont quite totally comfy with the idea of intimidation in a relationship.. though this can be applied to platonic relationships too... hmm... mayhaps a mix of it all? not quite sure! probably goes to you for tips to be more bold, love the idea of someone teaching gangle to grow a backbone

similar to zooble, no comments on your height!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Kleptomaniac (Allison Reynolds x reader)

Summary: you and Allison get to know each other better after becoming partners for a school project

Warnings: strangers to friends to (implied) lovers, fluff, Allison's tendencies to compulsively lie and steal whatever she can get her hands on comes up a lot here, there's also a lot of science talk related to the plot (really giving away how much of a nerd I am with this one)

A/N: I rewatched the breakfast club and immediately needed to write something for it because there's practically nothing to be found on tumblr and it makes me really sad :( also for those who don't know a kleptomaniac is someone who has a really bad problem with stealing whatever they can get their hands on 👍

It was the first project of the school year, the teacher making the dreaded announcement of "these partners will be permanent for the rest of the year" when it was first introduced. The class had groaned in unison before everyone scrambled off to find someone to work with, not wanting to be left with the short end of the stick.

You ended up choosing Allison as your partner, of all people. Well, maybe choosing was a bit of a strong word. Everyone else had already partnered up by the time you realized what was going on, which meant you were stuck with her.

It wasn't as bad as some people made it out to be. She was pretty cool and seemed nice enough, even if she had a bad habit of stealing.

You were currently both sitting on your bed at your house so you could work on the project together. You'd taken your eyes off of her for two seconds so you could grab a pencil, which she took advantage of by snatching your stapler and shoving it in the pocket of her skirt.

"Hey, put that back!"

She let out a mischievous giggle as she de-pocketed the stapler, dropping it back down onto the bed in front of you. "Sorry," she apologized in a quiet and raspy voice, the impish grin on her face telling you that she didn't feel sorry at all.

Picking up the stapler, you set it somewhere off to the side where she couldn't easily grab it again. "The project has to be on some kind of scientific discovery, like space or the ocean or something-"

She cut you off before you could continue. "My grandparents lived in a boat for over a year. And one of my uncles was an astronaut."

You raised an eyebrow at her in disbelief. "Really?" The incredulous tone of your voice gave away just how obvious it was that you didn't believe her.

"Yeah, and one of my cousins is a deep sea explorer," she continued, ignoring the look you were giving her. The both of you knew she was lying, but neither one of you was willing to say it.

"Hm." You let out a sort of humming noise in response before turning your attention back to your notes for science. "Everyone's going to choose something big to do their project on, like space or the ocean, so I think we should think outside the box and pick something... smaller. Both literally and figuratively."

Allison quietly observed as you flipped through your science books, skimming over the different topics readily available. "Why don't we do something on the discovery of the atom?"

"I used to have a neighbor named Adam." She picked up one of your erasers as she spoke, feeling the rubbery material in her hand.

"No, not Adam, like the person. Atom, like what the universe is made of." You reached out and took the eraser back from her so she wouldn't steal it: she left out an indignant squeak but didn't fight over it. "Everything is made up of millions of tiny atoms that are impossible to see without some sort of high-powered miscroscope."

"Nerd," she muttered softly under her breath after you were done with your explanation. The corners of her lips curled upwards into a Chesire cat-like smile when you narrowed your eyes at her in annoyance.

"Anyway, I don't think a lot of people are going to choose to do the project on something like that, so we should, that way we won't have to worry about the teacher comparing projects and grading ours as a result of that." You reached for your pencil again, only to find that it wasn't there.

Sighing, you held out your hand as you waited for Allison to give it back. The lead harshly poked you in the finger as she did. "Ow!" You exclaimed in surprise as you rubbed the area where you'd been stabbed by the pencil. "You did that on purpose!"

"Did not." She crossed her arms and tried to appear serious, immediately failing as she laughed at the frown you were giving her.

"God, you're such a kleptomaniac," you muttered under your breath as you picked up the pencil and started writing down information about atoms on a fresh piece of notebook paper.

"You know, you're really cool," she commented while watching you with her big brown eyes. "We should hang out more."

It was hard to keep a soft smile from forming on your face. "Do you promise to stop stealing my stuff?"

Your question was answered instantly when you looked back up to see her trying to shove one of your science textbooks into her bag. "Nope."

"Allison!"

She erupted into a fit of laughter as you took it back from her, visibly pleased with being able to get on your nerves so easily.

"I'm glad you're my friend." Her voice was so low when she spoke you almost didn't catch what she'd said.

As upset as you wanted to be for her stealing your things, you knew she was just doing it to mess with you, and that she probably didn't have anyone else to joke around with like that. It made you feel special.

"Yeah, me too."

End notes: requests for the breakfast club are definitely open, btw! It's such a shame that I have almost nothing written with them

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | The Breakfast Club masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @theonetruepotato87

[embracing-the-ineffable]

Good Omens, staying skeptical, and the mystery and the lie at the heart of Gravity Falls

-Neil Gaiman, 29 June 2023

I recently came across this post by @apathetic-revenant, which goes into extensive detail about a whole secret meta lie generated by Alex Hirsch, creator and head writer of Gravity Falls, midway through the show.

It went like this: the show was very focused on mysteries, codes, ciphers, etc, and early on a character discovered a mysterious journal with an unknown author, and this drove the plot. There were clues placed in the show so that people could solve the journal author's identity, or more probably so that it would all make sense in hindsight after the big reveal. However, the show ended up with a larger-than-expected fandom who started organizing online in a way the creators hadn't expected or planned for, and they were worried everyone would collectively solve the mystery too easily, too soon, and the suspense and appeal of the story gradually unfolding would be lost.

So they took a fake BTS photo that appeared to reveal the journal's author and "leaked" it online. To give it credibility, the show's creator posted "Fuming right now" and then deleted the post soon after, once they were certain it had been seen and screenshots taken. The Gravity Falls fandom then stopped trying to solve the mystery, as they believed the answer had already been revealed. It was a solution "targeted toward delaying that group problem-solving, without actually affecting the experience of any individual person watching the show."

Ok, Good Omens fandom. Are we Gravity Falls all over again? Are we also experiencing meta lies?

Is it possible that Amazon's marketing department has just released a new promotional video about Aziraphale & Crowley's "timeline of interconnectedness" (discussions here and here ) where they honestly:

got several of those timeline dates wrong, including labeling the entirety of seasons 1 and 2 as belonging to the same year?

mixed all the season 1 and 2 clips together so they're completely interconnected and out of the order they were presented to us so far?

didn't consult with Neil Gaiman for even a moment to be sure they had their facts straight? (Or literally anyone else who's spent years working on it? Or even someone who has just watched it once while paying attention?)

didn't understand the way most series tell a story by moving through time in a realistic linear fashion?

When Neil said today that "time is fine" in response to questions about the timeline of interconnectedness video, was he trying to misdirect the fandom away from the mystery that's clearly hidden throughout both seasons (and especially season 2)?

The Good Place seems suddenly more relevant than I'd imagined:

Neil has told us that his Tumblr posts aren't canon. He's also said:

"Never trust the storyteller. Only trust the story."

"Writers are liars, my dear, surely you know that by now? And yet, things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot." -Both quotes are from The Sandman [link]

So here's my plea to whichever part of the fandom might read this: Stay Skeptical. It's wonderful to talk to Neil about his characters, the worlds he's created, his writing process, his views on world events, his sense of humor, his kindness, his compassion and empathy, and his good advice & encouragement for the entire range of the human experience. I respect him very much, and I'm thrilled he's here on social media talking to all of us. (Except he doesn't have social media, obviously. He's like Schrödinger's Social Media Neil-cat.)

I'm looking forward to all the surprises I'm certain are in store for us (and Aziraphale and Crowley) in Good Omens season 3. I trust Neil (and Terry!) to deliver our beloved characters to a very satisfying ending. But I don't trust Neil to honestly answer all of our questions on social media - and neither should you.

Especially not when he's already blamed obvious season 2 changes to the Bentley on the "lighting" (as just one example).

With lots of thanks to the members of the @ineffable-detective-agency - including @bbbitchvibbbez, @kimberleyjean, @maufungi, @noneorother, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, and @thebluestgreen for all their excellent fact-checking, ideas, and discussions!

Interested in diving further into all the Good Omens mysteries? I have more posts plus Clues and metas from all over the fandom, here.

[theyanderespecialist]

His Snowflake: Yandere The Winter King X Listener (Fionna And Cake) #adv...

Base Yandere The Winter King Headcanons: His Snow Angel (AT: Fionna and Cake)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! And Happy Holidays! I am trying to get at least 12 Videos and a few written posts. This will be a Tumblr/Archive/YouTube post! The YouTube video will have more to it than the written post. This is The Winter King base yandere headcanons from Adventure Time Fionna and Cake! I hope that you all enjoy this chapter!]

(Disclaimer: The Winter King is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine! Just do not be illegal about it, and remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon and canon! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons With The Winter King-

.It was a dream that he met you.

.He has been lonely, never fully complete like something was missing.

.Then you a human from another universe appear here?

.You were so warm, soft, and like a light came from you.

.His Angel, his snow angel.

.He became quickly obsessed with your warmth.

.He has always had a borderline obsession with things.

.Even before he became the Ice King or the Winter King.

.Tranfering the madness of the crown did not change this.

.He could not even remember Betty.

.So this version of Simon, puts all of his obsession into you!

.How could he not, you are so warm and perfect.

.You are perfect just like him!

.It was destiny that you two would meet!

.One could even call it Fate!

.Yes you were his Angel to be with him for all eternity!

.He is very into himself, so he will only have the best (Which he sees as the best) as his partner.

.He also loves his ego stroked.

.That is the only reason he had not killed the Candy Queen.

.Because her attention strokes his ego and man is his ego huge.

.So he would want you to pay attention to him and to stroke his ego.

.You should only want him in your life! Why would you give your attention to anyone else?

.He is the only one good enough for your attention, it should be him! AND ONLY HIM!

.Since he is the only one good enough for you, he does not typically see anyone else as a rival.

.Why would he have rivals? the whole idea of you being into anyone else is laughable at best!

.He would love to be called King and he would call you either his Angel, snowflake, or majesty.

.To him you are so much more delicate than him, he could easily break you.

.Though he would never do that! He may freeze your legs so you cannot run away!

.But nothing too permanent.

.He is a skilled master of winter, there is no way he will cause serious damage!

.That is if you do not try and run away.

.If you were to keep running away, well then you did not need those pesky legs.

.He would numb them so you do not feel the pain as he saw them off.

.That way you can stay where you are meant to be and you can always be His Winter Majesty!

.He would be very touchy-feely with you because he loves your warmth.

.You are just so soft and warm and he could not get enough of feeling it.

.He wonders what making love to you would feel like~

.You would be so soft and warm and to make love to you, it would be world-changing he is sure.

.He is the type of yandere that would adore you.

.Of course, do not forget he is in control, he is the one who has a say in where you go in his kingdom.

.He would control if any of his subjects see you.

.He will control everything, even if he makes it seem like you have control and free will you will not. You are his and he is always in control of what is his.

.When he does confess to you, it will be most likely with a big song and dance of him confessing his love to you.

.If you do accept his love you will be married to him and will be his co-ruler. His Majesty.

.If you do not accept his love?

.Well then you will simply be locked away and gaslit and manipulated into loving him.

.He is a narcissistic yandere and he will be a master of manipulation and gaslighting you.

.There is no bounds he will not do to have you.

.If you did have other people interested in you?

.They would face slow and painful deaths where they freeze to death, so slowly they will lose their minds.

.You are His Snow Angel, you will be His Majesty! You Do Not Have A Choice!

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done, I hope that you all enjoyed this and stay sexy, all of my sexy muffins!]

[azzibuckets]

that charles girl has always been problematic. she’s somewhere here on tumblr and it’s not the first time she’s posted something off of here on tiktok just for clout and have the nerve to say she got it from tumblr. i fear this community is getting more and more attention everyday because of people like her which honestly sucks because we talk about a lot of stuff that shouldn’t be going to any other social media platform, yes i’m fucking gatekeeping tumblr because it’s my only safe space and i love the bloggers here including you, azzifudd, chaoticpazzi and all the other ones. i always get a good laugh with you guys and love ranting, being delusional together, speculating, just the little things we do here. it’s a small and at the same time not that small community but we know to keep things on the low. i don’t want the comfortable space we’ve created here get taken away from us. i just needed to get that off my chest, ty for coming to my ted talk!

yeah i’ll be deleting the ones i reblogged, i didn’t know he didn’t want people screen recording! i hate when people post stuff on tiktok