#I am never concise with anything

[moeblob]

As an attempt at a polite "going forward" comment...

I do not plan to draw for Three Houses or Hopes for a long while. I know a lot of my followers are from the past four years and I appreciate that you followed me at all! But if you are only interested in the art of those characters I wanted to be clear and say you can unfollow me at any point if what i draw no longer aligns with what you want to see.

I might draw for other FEs (like Heroes or 13/14/17) but I do not want to get involved with 3H any more. I do have other interests and across tumblr, twitter (now inactive), and sometimes on discord I've heard enough "I thought it was (FE3H character)".

This is not one person doing it and it is not simply one character being mistaken. I simply want to distance myself from 3H and have unfollowed a few people that reblog art of it because it just leaves a lingering bad taste in my mouth.

Thank you very much for your time and I hope you can find artists who can provide art for topics you like.

[abstractlesbian]

Find someone slightly annoying but in really small harmless ways so I decide none of the behaviours are worth bringing up with them → realizing: hey, Im also annoying! solidarity! → realizing we have a lot in common and starting to bond → finding out other people find this person annoying and are vocal about it behind their back → finding out this person has ADHD like me that's (at least one reason) why we have all these traits in common → fear.

[twsted-potionologist]

ok so i like rule 63 fanart in general, right? and i was planning on making designs for rule 63 versions of every Twisted Wonderland student (and for those who dont know rule 63 means genderbent)

i just reblogged a great post by @/sebastianthemadlad talking about why they personally don't like the transfem vil headcanon and it makes really good points. and after reading it i was like "cool! how do i recontextualize this with the rule 63 au?" and had a crisis because... how in the world do i flip the script with vil and epel. (decided last minute to put it under a cut bc way too long and ramble-y)

epel is often mistaken as a girl and gets upset by this and wants to be more masculine because of his traditional upbringing. okay.

so if she's a girl instead, would she get mistaken as a boy instead and want to be more feminine? or maybe she is super feminine and still wants to be masculine but thinks its wrong for her to think that? there's not much of a conflict if she's just okay with being a tomboy or being perceived as a masc woman because her upbringing says women aren't supposed to be masc.

and then vil. oh vil oh vil. i love vil a lot. the platonic ideal of a feminine man. like if harry styles actually did what his fans claimed he did.

sebastian's post mentioned that if vil actually was a trans women, she'd be a tomboy, because the whole point of the character is breaking gender norms. and this really stuck out to me because i was gonna make my rule 63 version of schoenheit a trans woman. so what to do about valerie schoenheit.

making her a tomboy doesn't quite sound right to me, because i think of tomboy as a pretty sport-sy archetype, and she doesn't really scream sporty. like, she's an actress and a model, and she's all about being elegant and beautiful. so tomboy might not be the right word to describe her, but "elegant" and "beautiful" is not just for feminine aesthetics. she could just be a masculine woman. i also kind of half tossed out the idea in the tags i left on that post about nonbinary schoenheit and it's still all kind of mush in my brain right now and i might not take that concept with val totally but i might just steal part of that idea to make her more androgynous too? idk. i made this post because i haven't settled on anything yet

oh hey while you're here i havent settled on a name yet for fem!epel. vote now on your phones!

[icewindandboringhorror]

Everytime I face a new character limit on a website that didn't have them before/used to have really long ones... AUGHHhhh the modern social media world was not made for people like me (lovers of details, rambling, elaboration, thorough explanation, and nuance)

[ghostiboos]

Anti-Capitalism and ChatGPT

(wordcount: 1,177)

Here’s the thing. I’ll be the first to admit that ChatGPT is cool, yeah? And I’m far from ignorant of the wonderful things it’s made possible. But there’s a pretty big problem with its professional usage,

and before you stop reading,

I promise that the point of this post is not "you have to stop using ChatGPT." Just. Stick with me for a minute, cuz contrary to what you might expect, this is not a problem contained to just the normies that don’t use ChatGPT: this is about how ChatGPT will affect you.

I’m about to use some scary words like “scalping” and “exploitation,” but remember I’m not accusing you of anything. In fact, let’s start with the good stuff.

Among other things, it could be argued that ChatGPT actually enhances workplace accessibility by “leveling the playing field,” in a way. Any job candidate can quickly make up for lack of time/skill/ability in one area by using ChatGPT to fill in the gaps, right? An individual’s personal quality of life can improve by “outsourcing” aspects of their work to ChatGPT — they have more free time, and maybe their work quality and pay grade improve too.

But I’d like to point out that this isn’t ChatGPT making life better for employees. This is actually ChatGPT eliminating the entire role of “employee.”

Okay, crazy statement time:

A person using ChatGPT in a professional setting is no longer an employee, but, in practice, actually a corporation.

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Well, in concise terms, ChatGPT catalyzes the exploitation of labor by collecting it all in one place, meaning that the labor of hundreds of people can be scalped and represented as the work of a single entity: the individual using ChatGPT.

This essentially transforms the individual employee into a CEO of their own small corporation, which is being outsourced to larger corporations for work. Our new “CEO” doesn’t even have to pay any “employees,” keeping all of the profit they earned with the labor scalped by ChatGPT. This is why the individual is able to reap so much more profit from using ChatGPT than they ever could from working as a single employee.

You may think I’m trying to frame our new little “CEO” as the villain of this story, but it’s exactly the opposite. They’re just playing by the rules of the system, and within the system, it’s way nicer being a corporation than it is living as an employee. It’s just proof of concept that life on top is exactly as easy as we’ve all been guessing it is, and the only requirement for leveling up is a willingness to exploit labor. ChatGPT is a shiny new miracle tool that makes exploitation easy and accessible to everyone, and it doesn’t even look or feel like exploitation because there are no faces attached.

But that’s where this short-term improvement goes downhill: it’s accessible to everyone, including the actual corporations, who have already amassed the means to exploit labor en masse. If ChatGPT gives individuals a level-up by eliminating the role of employee and allowing them to act as corporations, how does that same level-up work when a corporation uses it? Well, I guess it’s a good thing the role of “employee” has been eliminated, because they aren’t needed anymore lol: not if your goal is to turn a profit, and we all know that’s just how things go.

But hey— galaxy brain here, but couldn’t that be kind of a good thing actually? The current system doesn’t function without people on the bottom who are available for exploitation, so if ChatGPT can automate the exploited parties for us by scalping labor from the past, then doesn’t that mean that the endless work necessitating human employment in the first place is finally… unnecessary? For the first time ever, we could be looking at a society where pretty much all of the labor is already accounted for, meaning all humans are free to pursue any passion they want regardless of their background, regardless of their class, regardless of how much money they- oh, right… Money.

The world I described above either sounds like a utopia to you or a dogshit stupid pipe dream, and unfortunately, both are true.

The problem is,

while technology has advanced to the point where it’s finally ready for automated labor, society has not.

We still live in a system where if you don’t work, you don’t eat, regardless of whether any work actually needs to be done. So… what actually happens in the current system if labor is automated?

Well, I won’t bore you with the typical “THE ROBOTS ARE TAKING ALL OUR JOBS” routine, but like. It’s only half wrong? I mean, we don’t even have the tech to automate all labor anyway, so it’s not like that’s literally what’s happening. But there are still… a lot of jobs that can be automated now, and that puts a lot of people in positions where they have to compete with ChatGPT in order to keep food on the table. It’s already a losing battle for a lot of people.

Using ChatGPT gives you a taste of corporate power, of the ability to exploit if it makes things financially easier for you. And that’s understandable, right? We’re all struggling in a system like this. Just don’t forget that line of reasoning when it comes full circle, where instead of getting to do the exploiting, you’re the one being exploited (again). Don’t forget what it was like to be on top: how normal it felt, reasonable, unremarkable. It didn’t feel like exploitation when you only experienced the profits. That is who owns you now. Let that radicalize you.

So long story short,

the existence and usage of ChatGPT is not the problem. In a better world, you’re right that ChatGPT could be a great ally, but the current structure of the job market has transformed it into a competitor. The human working class and ChatGPT are forced to compete against each other, not because it is rational for us to be enemies, but because the system pits all laborers against each other for the “privilege” of work. People are realizing that they really can’t beat the competition this time, so don’t scold them when they don’t share your enthusiasm. We’re all dogs in this fight, and ChatGPT has fucking lazer eyes.

It’s not the end of the world – the job market has always been prone to fluctuation – but this is different from your average fluctuation. It re-frames so much that used to seem impossible, but if we don’t change the system itself to match this advancement in technology, I guarantee it’s not gonna be the people at the top who pay the price.

The choice is not whether or not to use ChatGPT.

The choice is whether to discontinue ChatGPT so that society can continue with the relative stability it had before, or to embrace ChatGPT as the ally it could be by changing the structures that weaponize it against us.

(Okay I’m getting off my soapbox now, I sure hope nobody else is in this abandoned soapbox factory, can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if anyone actually heard me say all that lol)

[screampied]

plz write a domestic toji fic

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, house husband toji, reader is pregnant, toji attempting to cook, petnames.

wc. 1.8k

toji quirks an arched brow in frustration. with a concise glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday, it reads three am. sighing, the back of his wrist smears a sheet of sweat off his forehead as he gets a good sniff of the cuisine. like always, he stayed up all night, watching those random cooking mom videos on youtube. trying so hard to mimic their recipes and methods but failing anyway. “tch. fuckin’ shit,” he grumbles under his breath, covered in nothing but flour. the sizzling of the pan was quite loud. the smoke detector went off at least four times. he was wearing another thing you bought him. an apron that had the words of ‘kiss the cook’ imprinted near the front in bedazzled little sparkles. “why does it keep stickin’ to the pan.”

as his annoyance grows, he hears familiar little footsteps approach the linoleum kitchen floor. it’s you, his shoulders lower and his mood softens at the sight of you in comfy silk pajamas and a grouchy expression. “toji? ‘s like three in the morning,” and as you take a whiff of the air, you furrow your own two brows. “are you . . cooking?”

“yeah yeah,” he gruffly grouses, going back to whisking the flour. “go back ‘ta bed, baby. almost done. ‘m jus’ practicing.”

“at three am,” you deadpan, a hand rubbing against your plump growing tummy.

so cute, you were a few weeks pregnant yet everything was moving at such an rapid speed. with the way your body was changing so quick, he could barely keep up. toji hears the sass in your tone as you speak and he knows good and well he should be back in bed with you. you wondered why the left side of the mattress felt empty. you waddle over beside him, hugging him from behind. his bulging muscles rub against you and you let off a playful little whine. “tooooji, you need sleep. come back to bed.”

“princessss,” he plays along with a fake pout, his entire hands covered with piles and piles of doughy flour mix. “but ‘m makin’ breakfast for us two,” and with a brief notion of turning the fire down a bit, he utters last minute. “er— three.” and you smile at him not forgetting to include your unborn child.

toji never cooks, it’s always been just you.

it’s not like he was incapable or anything. he’s always found a liking to watching you cook though.

you always prepared him the best of meals, so good that it had his mouth watering, licking the tips of his tongue in sweet sweet relish.

right before you’d got pregnant, you’d pack him the most divine lunches for work, always with such loving care. you’d never forget to leave him a little adoring note or two, wishing him the best of shifts. so the moment you ended up getting knocked up, he wanted to try.

try to do better,

for you.

sacrificing his sleep wasn’t really an issue—he didn’t mind if it wasn’t for you and his unborn baby. and if toji had to learn how to cook simple meals, he’d do that.. despite the struggle it was.

giggling, you stretch your arms over his torso.

“toji . . making pancakes is easy,” you hum, and his muscles relaxes from your gentle touch.

he’s missed you dearly, even though he was only out of bed for at least a good hour now. hearing him swear vulgar curses underneath his breath at messing up the instructions was quite near adorable. peering at the mess in front of you, you take the cerulean blue mixing bowl from him. “you could’ve woke me up if you needed help, you know.”

“i know,” he grumbles, his voice softening a bit.

you pause—toji’s body language seems a bit different. it shifts. he looks a bit ashamed.

once toji turns off the stove, he deeply sighs. “i just wanted ‘ta learn how to cook for us— you know, like as a family. so when the baby’s here, i’ll uh- be prepared. don’t want ya to be doin’ everything, darlin’. y’er gonna be limited to do lots of stuff soon ‘n i jus’ wanna help out a bit more.”

with a smile, you stroke a thumb against your husband’s chin, right near his little scar. “awww,” and there’s an immediate embarrassed scowl stretching against his thin lips.

toji wanting to try more for you made your heart swarm up with a variety schools of butterflies. it flutters and flaps as he spoke. speaking in a soft tone, a thumb swipes a few remnants of flour near the crevices of his lip. “you’re sweet, toji. but i don’t want you stressing out over cooking. ‘s okay, besidessss we can always do it together.”

“eh,” his eye twitches at your smug growing grin. “that’s… not what i meant, mama.”

“don’t eh me. yeah it is, you want me to teach you how to cook like me,” you simper, planting a kiss against the back of his arm. “you wanna learn how to be a househusband?”

toji groans, turning to face you. verdant eyes leer at you for a long time—but he could never stay too vexed at you, you were so adorable, especially whenever you were this enthusiastic.

“that’s not the term i’d use for myself, but i guess,” and he wipes a few pounds of flour off his apron. “don’t worry ‘bout the mess. i’ll clean that up too.”

“i like this new toji.” you tease, leaning up close to press a wet kiss against his temple.

toji buries his hands in his pockets, staring off to the side and trying to ignore the incoming flush setting against his skin.

oh, you had him weak,

weak everywhere—weak in the knees.

he was feeling himself getting soft as the seconds pass. toji couldn’t lie, he was starting to like this new side of his too. he’d never in a million years admit it though. “baby please,” he grunts, switching the sink on to wash his hands. as the water screams out of the faucet, he lathers everywhere with soap before grumbling. “been watchin’ so many of those damn mom vlogs of cooking. was so annoying, wanted to pull my hair out.”

“you could have just asked me for help, silly,” and your arms securely wrap around his beefy body once more. toji’s frame was a lot more broad and built compared to you. he sucks his teeth, leaning into your touch before staring at the kitchen counter. “okay, good. you have all the ingredients . . eggs, flour, milk, umm sugar..”

and as your words continue and you observe his unkempt handiwork, toji clears his throat. “i gave up once the things kept stickin’ to the skillet.”

you let off a pretty laugh that makes his ears twitch. “welllll that’s probably because you didn’t add enough oil or butter to the pan,” and he watches as you grab a nearby stick of butter. you cut near the end part it with a butter knife before spreading it on the middle of the pan.

toji cutely stays quiet, staring intently and taking in everything you’re doing. he’s attentive, he doesn’t wanna miss anything because he’d soon be doing this for you and his soon-to-be baby.

after a few long seconds, you turn on the stove and it starts to sizzle again. “okay, so you mixed the batter, that’s good. now all you have to do is just pour a good amount into the pan and flip it once it’s a brownish color.”

“ehhhh.”

“toji, you wanted to cook so you’re gonna cook.”

“yes ma’am.” he sighs, his tone playful.

some minutes pass before you both finally finish making a fresh, scrumptious batch of pancakes. with your arms wrapped around him, you showed him all the steps slowly. you were patient with toji, helping him pour the batter and mix it. every time he messes up, you’d kiss the edge of his arm, reminding him that he can just try again. he calms down after a while, and you step away to watch him make a pancake of his own. he flips it over, and he has a sly grin—glancing back toward you, hoping you caught that. you did, giving him an encouraging smile before showering him with praise.

it was almost four am and toji was desperately trying to stay awake—you could tell he was struggling to keep his eyes open with how he’s swaying a bit. turning off the stove for the nth time, you set the steaming hot spatula aside before looking in toji’s direction. “we can always eat them when we wake up.”

“we?” he grumbles, combing a hand through his messy strands, giving it a solid scratch.

“yes, we,” and you wrap the heated pancakes with plastic wrap, tucking the undersides of the plate with the material before putting it in the microwave to preserve heat. you then grab onto toji’s hand. “we’re going back to bed.”

with a sigh, he knew he wasn’t gonna win this little spat. toji squeezes your hand back, yet before the two of you could go back into bed, he bends down.

raising your brow, toji gets on his knees before bringing a chaste kiss toward your tummy. “hey little one,” he whispers, rubbing a palm gingerly against the front of your stomach. dark, tired eyes meet yours and he bedaubs a thumb near your the print of your navel poking through your his oversized t-shirt. the cold, frigid texture of toji’s fingertips almost tickles. as he softly runs a finger down the center of your growing belly bump, a bit of flour gets against your clothes. “how are my girls? any cramps or pain i should know about?

girls,

the gender was still too early to determine but toji always pondered about how it might be a girl.

“n- no,” you breathe, moving a few raven strands of hair out of his face. everything felt different, it was as if you were walking with volumes of water stored within you. toji’s always been supportive during your pregnancy, he was trying. he stands up again before kissing the crown of your head. “you still think ‘s a girl?”

“kinda, yeah,” he utters, and a strong arm slings around your shoulders.

toji guides you to bed, not minding your cute slow waddle of a walk. “up we go, c’mon,” and he helps you up the steps, lowly chuckling into your neck at your adorable state. toji was always patient, the moment you finally reach the bed, he pulls down the fat cover so you could climb in. “…. thank you baby.”

“for what?” you slump against the cushioned sheets, slipping off your baby blue socks. toji crawls in beside you, leaning in to switch off the lamp. he still had a bit of flour on his face—and he spots you swiping some of it off with your thumb.

toji groans, acting as if the next incoming sentence was gonna kill him.

“for . . teachin’ me how ‘ta be a good househusband,” he pouts, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “i love you.”

“i love you too toji.”

“i love ya more,” and he lowers his neck to kiss the middle of your stomach. “oh, ‘n papa loves you also, little one. love my girls so much.”

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

[cowboy-heart]

'interview with a butch' - a fake interview reflecting on butch-femme dynamics! inspired by the amazing piece by @llovely, which you can read here :)

(ID below read more)

[an original, interview-style poem called 'interview with a butch':

when did you know you were butch? I knew by the time I was sixteen, but that’s only when I found the word. I’ve been butch since the day I was born, at least since I was just a few months old and threw an earth-shattering tantrum whenever my mum tried to put me in a dress. (both laugh) your poor mum!

I remember being a little butch knight, chivalrous even before I was double digits. my best friend only lived up the road from school, but her parents were running late and she was scared to do it herself. so I walked her up the hill, her arm linked in mine, pride balancing on my chest. and when I got her to her door, I said that we should kiss like adults do when they say goodbye, and we took it in turns to kiss each other on each cheek. when I walked home I felt something the size of a boulder in my stomach, but I didn’t know what it meant yet, just that there was something about myself that set me apart.

how did you feel with your first femme? oh, man, even for a writer that’s hard to find the words for. (laugh) let’s put it this way: before I had my first femme, I always felt like something was missing in my relationships – not just in the relationship itself, but in me. I felt broken and wrong, unsatisfied and selfish. I thought that maybe I just had too high expectations or something. hell, even with sex I felt like something was missing, like I couldn’t find my own desire.

But then, then I had my first femme. How graphic can I be here? (laugh) as graphic as you want! okay, good!

watching my stomach hang over my harness, long nails in my hips, I felt like I had a second sexual awakening. I felt the most present in my body I’d ever been, and like I could be in them forever. I didn’t feel dissatisfied, or wrong. when their hand held mine and played with my fingers I felt lightning shoot through me. it was like realising I was a lesbian all over again. but even outside of romance, femmes are my friends, my family, my community. talking to femmes, being around femmes, I’ve never felt so seen and loved. I can handle every sharp look, every slur thrown my way, just because my armour was polished by femmes.

do you find your roles restrictive? they’re liberating. I think sometimes people see me and think that I had to fit into this constrictive box, that I disallowed myself to enjoy anything feminine. the reality is that for butches, we find the word we’ve been searching for our whole lives. I can’t even remember finding the word, isn’t that crazy? it felt second nature. it somehow perfectly described everything I’d ever felt, exposed me to a community of people who were just like me outside of my Tory town! (pause)

I think there’s a tendency even in leftist, LGBT spaces to think that masculinity is oppressive, and femininity is liberating and oppressed. but it’s really not like that. we’re punished for deviating from our assigned gender, whether you’re a masculine woman, or a feminine man, or something in between the two. I’ve had gay men try to convince me to let them do my makeup, I’ve had gay women tell me that they’re “so glad” I don’t have ‘toxic masculinity’ like “other butches”. femininity was a cage for me, something I had to imitate to survive the perils of high school, but it was never me. masculinity liberated me, and it’s not inherently toxic. I love to carry the bags, hold open the doors, cry in pride, protect those I love. and there’s nothing like coming home at the end of the day to a sweet femme, ready to rub my tired muscles. man, I’m not good at concise answers, am I? (both laugh) no, but I love it!

what do you think of people who see your relationship as heteronormative? they’re twats! (both laugh) now, that’s a concise answer! no, no that’s not fair. here’s what I’d say to them:

I see it as…a complex gender performance. no, that makes it sound like it’s play pretend. they’re complex gender…expressions, dynamics, play, desire, euphoria. a butch and a femme together is no more heterosexual than a bear and a twink, a top and a bottom. it’s a dance that we know in our bones, like we knew each other in a previous lifetime and we’re just falling back into our favoured rhythm. even every fumble and awkward gesture is a part of it. we fall into sync and into each other, we tenderise each other’s gender, affirm it, and love every minute of it. we’re not two sides of the same coin, you talk to any butch-femme couple and chances are our priori (edit: interviewee meant propositions) are the same but our conclusions are not; we’re the same side of the same coin, just one is the top of the tail and the other is the bottom of it. is that a euphemism? (laugh) take it as you will!

I’m no man, my femme is no woman, and I’m no less butch when I’m wearing a kiss-the-cook apron and cleaning their kitchen, and they’re no less femme when they’re putting together a shelf or driving me to work. To look at us and see a heteronormative imitation of cisgender predetermination is proof of their own lack of nuance – do you think all dogs are boys and all cats are girls, too? (both laugh)

I think in a lot of ways, butch-femme dynamics are inherently transsexual. or, in the very least, good friends of transgenderism. If you can’t see us for what we are then chances are you’ve got your own internalised gender biases to unlearn.

I’ve always been butch to my bones, but when I’m with my baby I’m on cloud nine. I feel desired, my gender revered and loved.

so, what you’re saying is, you feel seen? I do. we see each other and nurture each other. I’ve never really liked being called ‘beautiful’, but when it falls from the lips of a femme, I know that they’re not seeing me as feminine. I feel most comfortable to explore the depths of both my femininity and masculinity with them; I don’t feel restricted to a role.

maybe that’s what people are missing about it: our homes are temples of gender exploration and devotion.

end ID].

[in-another-april]

I just saw your sharing clothes with Spence post, and it made me think of spending the first night with him? Like awkward shy Spence early in the relationship wanting you to stay over with him :p

(just sfw cuddles, not smut please!)

i know ive written like 10 sleepy spencer posts but. come on. how can i not?? also im sorry i am physically unable to be concise.

Spencer was so so nervous to have you sleep over for the first time!! But, luckily, his overwhelming desire to be with you outweighs his fear of messing things up. Besides, he warms up as soon as you get there, laughing and talking and watching old movies. He feels silly for thinking he had anything to worry about in the first place.

It gets later and later and you get sleepier and sleepier; he mumbles a shy "you wanna head to bed?" against the top of your head, pressing a kiss or two onto it.

You've never agreed to anything faster.

Getting ready next to you awakens something so sickengly sweetly domestic in him. You’re cramped in his tiny bathroom together, bumping elbows as you try to brush your teeth and giggling every time you catch a glimpse of the other’s silly expression in the mirror. He’d never get tired of seeing you like this, he could stay like this forever.

When you both get into bed, though, his nerves return. He wants to cuddle with you so so badly but he is so awkward. He tenatively reaches out for you in bed, pulling you closer to him.

You happily curl into his arms, humming a little happy sleepy noise as you nuzzle into him. And Oh god, you're actually going to be the death of him. (and he would die a very happy man)

In the morning, he spends a good 10 minutes admiring you and your face before attempting to make you breakfast in bed. It’s a little burnt, and he woke you up with all of the commotion coming from the kitchen, but you still share it with him and cuddle as you eat. And it’s still so lovely and perfect (he’s so lovely and perfect.) And yeah. Forever sounds nice.

masterlist | inbox

taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons @spencereidapologist @lyd14k4y @luvkatryna (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat - 5

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: None that I know of!

Summary: The Creator is gone.

Note: This has indeed been a LONG LONG wait. Your patience is and will always be appreciated.

No spoilers for the newest Archon Quest!

Part One —> Part Four Part Six

A foul smell lolled you awake. Your breath caught in your throat at the intense smell of saltwater. Your mind felt dazed and your body felt sore all over. As though you were being pulled from side to side. Slowly, you try to sit up, despite your limbs screaming not to. You were laying on a berth, the cushion below you was stuffed with some material to make it more comfortable while a thick blanket was placed meticulously over your body.

“You’re finally awake…”

Your head turns into the direction of the voice. 

Although they sat in the dark corner, it was evident how intently they were staring, as if they were drilling into your soul. Suddenly they stand up, their shoes making a sharp noise as it comes into contact with the wooden floor. 

Instinctively you scoot away, your back hitting the wood behind you, the aura this woman gave off screamed that you were in danger. Her movements were slow and concise, and once she was right in front of you, she spoke again.

“I will not hurt you, Your Grace, you have no reason to be afraid.” her voice was soft. You looked into her eyes and saw a gentle nature about them. Odd, considering how different she presented herself.

You recognized her face, she was there right before you passed out from drinking the ‘medicine’ that nurse gave you. Where exactly did she take you? You definitely weren't in the Court Of Fontaine anymore. Your senses felt like they were at an all time high.  She had you cornered, and in your inebriated state with a healing wound, you couldn’t fight her.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Your voice was raspy as the questions left your mouth quickly. You bring your hand up to your neck, rubbing it slightly, wanting to ease the dry sensation you felt in your throat.

“My name is Arlecchino.” She introduces.

Arlecchino notices how you rub your throat, she walks over grabbing a cup of water off the table nearby. “You look thirsty, you should drink this.”

Once she holds out the glass, you quickly smack it out of her hands. The glass shattered on the floor. Her eyes widened slightly, staring down at the puddle by her feet.

“Y–Your Grace..?”

“I'm not drinking anything you give me.” Your eyes narrow.

Arlecchino lets out a sharp breath through her nose.

“I apologize for my actions, Your Grace, but I had no other way of getting you out of Fontaine.” She shifts slightly, glass crunching under her feet.

“Wait? Get me out of Fontaine? Where am I exactly?” You ask.

“We are right outside of the city.” She explains, “Soon enough, we will be heading to Snezhnaya.”

Your eyes widen. Snezhnaya? With the Tsaritsa?

 Furina, the Hydro Archon, already tried to have you killed and now you’ll be meeting the Cryo Archon.

And if her subjects were willing to kidnap you for her… 

As if she read your mind, she quickly says, “You needn't worry Your Grace. We are not as foolish as the Hydro Archon and will never intentionally harm you.”

You let out a sigh of relief but you knew you couldn’t let your guard down. You still had no idea what her intentions for you were yet. 

Arlecchino kneels down in front of you, “I know considering the circumstances it is wrong of me to ask you this but I must.”

She gently grasps your right hand with both of hers, holding it in a delicate manner just in case you want to pull away.

“Did Focalors ever mention the prophecy to you?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “The prophecy?”

Arlecchino lets out a quiet sigh as she closes her eyes slowly, she almost looks disappointed. 

“Fontaine is in danger, Your Grace.” she states, “the nation and all the people within it.”

Her grip on your hand tightens, “I want to find a way to save my home, and I believe that you returning to Teyvat at this time was for that exact reason.”

You shift awkwardly, “How am I supposed to help? I don’t have any elemental powers.”

Arlecchino's eyebrows furrow, “You do not need a vision, you have abilities above any of our comprehension.”

Powers above their comprehension? You couldn’t even beat that Champion Duelist in a fight, and if you actually had powers, they would’ve come in handy then. Not to mention even if you did have these powers, wouldn’t they have made themselves apparent by now?

Arlecchino takes note of your bewildered expression, “You don’t remember? Maybe your sudden reappearance caused some side effects. Amnesia perhaps.”

You wanted to dispute what she said. You weren’t some omnipotent being, you were you. You weren’t suffering from memory loss because whatever she's talking about wasn’t true.

“Your Grace.” Arlecchino says again bring your attention back to her. 

“The Hydro Archon has taken no action to save Fontaine from utter destruction. She tried to accuse you of a heinous crime all for her own entertainment, and even now, she's too much of a coward to face her own people for what she's done.” 

Her dark eyes narrow, a hint of desperation in her voice, “Please hear me out, Your Eminence, I will do anything to save your world from losing another nation.”

You could see more behind those red X’s in her eyes, an underlying feeling of dread of what would happen if you said anything other than yes. 

“Tell me more about this prophecy and how we can stop it.” You state.

A smile spreads across her red lips, “As you wish, Your Grace…”

It was raining in Fontaine once again.

     After only hours of clear skies, the clouds returned and another downpour began. Many children looked up to the sky and begged for the Hydro Dragon to not weep but to no avail.

Neuvillette sat at his desk in silence, staring down at the paper in front of him with his elegant handwriting on it. A letter meant to be sent to the Dendro Archon. 

Neuvillette was aware of his duty, to honor the word of the Creator, but he couldn’t bring himself to send this letter. He had hope that if he had just a little bit more time, he could earn their forgiveness. He just needed to keep them in Fontaine a bit longer. 

Their Grace took his gift last night, surely that must be a sign that he’s moving in the correct direction. Perhaps he could tell Their Grace he sent the letter but delay it for another week? No. He can't do that. It’s his job to uphold the truth and lying to his creator is the biggest crime anyone could commit. (well, besides falsely accusing them of being an imposter)

A soft knock at the door makes him lift his head up and sit down his quill.

“Come in.” He says in a soft authoritative tone.

The door opens and two Melusines enter, the deadpan look Neuvillette had on his face is quickly replaced with a small smile.

“Kiara. Liath.” he says softly, “what can I do for you two?”

Neuvillette stands up and pats the two girls on their heads, but that doesn’t ease the panicked looks on their faces.

“Their Grace.” Kiara says.

Neuvillette’s eyes widened, “What about Their Grace? Are they okay?”

The Melusines glance at each other then back at the Chief Justice, “They’re gone.”

Neuvillette feels himself freeze for a short moment, “Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“We went there at dawn like you instructed but they weren’t there. The room has also been trashed as well.”

Neuvillette leaves his office immediately, his mind racing through the endless possibilities of what could’ve happened. Did Their Grace leave on their own accord? Or was someone able to sneak in and… 

“I will go investigate the matter myself.” Neuvillette states, his tone and expression not giving away what he actually felt in that moment. “Inform Lady Furina about the situation and tell her to meet me at Their Grace’s room.”

The Melusines nod and walk toward the door leading to Focalors abode.

-

Not long after Neuvillette arrived at the medical room, Furina rushed in. Her appearance was slightly disheveled, a tearful expression on her face.

“Is it true? Is Their Grace actually gone?”

“It would appear so, Lady Furina.” Neuvillette states.

The room was a mess just like the Melusines had said. Glass and water was all over the floor, and the bed was a mess. If you did leave on your own accord, you certainly left in a rush.

Furina walks around the room taking in the surroundings, “W-we should reach out to the other nations. Maybe one of them has already welcomed Their Grace?”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? Fontaine has already received enough scrutiny for what we’ve already done to Their Grace. If the other nations learned that we’ve lost them..”

Furina's lip quivered as she let out a sigh bringing her gloved hand to her forehead, “But surely they can look past that right? For the sake of Their Grace?!”

“I suggest we find out what actually happened to Their Grace first, then we can act accordingly.”

She nods at his suggestion, “Yes, you're right…”

Furina moves over to the window, making sure not to step on any of the glass that was on the floor. A large crowd was still surrounding the building, hoping to hear any news on the creator's condition.

Neuvillette clears his throat, “Lady Furina?”

She perks up, “Hmm? Yes Neuvillette?” 

“Have you done the other thing we’ve discussed?”

Focalors shuffles awkwardly as she looks down at her feet, “You mean the diplomatic discussions with The Knave?”

The Chief Justice narrows his eyes, “You know you cannot agree to this meeting right? Although Snezhnaya had said they wanted to discuss Tartaglia being in the Fortress of Meropide, we know they are going to bring up the situation with Their Grace.”

“But wouldn’t it only look bad on us if we were to deny their request for a meeting?”

“Yes that’s true, but if they ask to see Their Grace and we still don’t know where they are–”

“I know, I know.” Furina interjects, “Let’s just not worry about that for now. We need to focus on finding Their Grace.”

“I’ll keep guards posted around the room.” Neuvillette says, “As of now, we are treating this like a crime scene.”

For the first time since they came to Fontaine, Aether and Paimon had nothing to do. After helping Navia clear her father’s name, they hadn’t left the Spina di Rosula’s hideout. Using these past few days to get some needed rest. 

“Aether! Hurry and wake up you lazy bones!” Paimon whined, “we're gonna miss all the delicious cake!”

Aether pulls himself off the bed rubbing his eyes. Late last night, Lyney and Lyntte had showed up and offered to treat the pair to some baked goods. As a thank you for proving their innocence at the opera house a few weeks prior. Although, Aether still had his reservations about the two since they hid their connection to the Fatui, he could never pass up on some free cake.

The two leave their room and Paimon’s mouth was already watering. A small trail of salvia dangled from her chin as she spoke excitedly. “Come on! Come on!”

The trip to the Hotel Debord was oddly quiet. Not that the Traveler and Paimon were celebrities, but it seems like almost no one was around. None of the shops seemed to be open and there were no children running around playing, Fontaine would’ve resembled a ghost town if it weren’t for the gardes. 

“Is it just Paimon, or does it feel like we just missed something major?”

Aether silently agrees wiping the rainwater off his cheek, it certainly did feel like there was some tension in the air.

“Aether! Paimon!”

Lyney had a large smile on his face as he waved over his two friends. Lynette stood close by, as silent as ever. 

“Lyney! Lynette! Long time no see!” Paimon says happily as she floats over to the twins.

“It has been a long time hasn't it?” Lyney says with a chuckle, “Lynette and I had been working so hard on more magic tricks, time just seemed to pass.”

“Something even better than the water tank magic trick“ Lynette chimes in.

“Oh! Sounds like fun! Hopefully we’ll be able to see it once it's finished.”

Lyney turns his attention to Aether, who was just quiet, taking in his surroundings. “Is something wrong there? You’re quiet, more quiet than usual.”

“Doesn’t it seem odd around Fontaine? Where is everyone” Aether asks.

Lyney and Lynette share glances, “I think there’s a huge trial happening in the opera house today, that would explain the rain.”

Aether brought a hand up to his chin. That did make sense, Fontainians did love their drama and he does recall Lyney telling him that it did rain on the days trials were held.

But why did it feel like something was being left out?

“Let’s not stand out in the rain anymore, Paimon is ready for some cake!”

The four sat down at one of the tables on the second floor, it wasn’t long until the entire table was covered in plates of sweets, pastries, and drinks. More than enough for the group to enjoy.

“Um, excuse me?” A kind voice calls out, “Are you two Paimon and the Traveler?”

Aether turned to the owner of the voice and it was a woman with sandy brunette hair and blue eyes, she had a small smile on her lips as her eyes darted across the whole group.

“Yep, that's us!” Paimon chirps, “who are you? Did you need the Aethers help?”

“Oh no.” she shakes her head, “My name is Isadora, I work at Palais Mermonia. Monsieur Neuvillette had sent me here to retrieve you two.”

“Oh Neuvillette?” Paimons says, “Isn’t he judging a trial right now?”

Isadora’s eyebrows furrow, “No he isn't. There’s no trial being held in Opera Epiclese at the moment.”

Lyney rubs the back of his neck, “Oh really? Ha, who would’ve known!”

“Anyway,” Isadora says, “Monsieur Neuvillette had said this manner he wished to speak with you about was very important and for you two to come as quickly as possible.”

“Well, we’re pretty much done here.” Aether says, “why don’t we just head over there now?”

“W–wait!” Lyney suddenly calls out. “You two are leaving already? Lynette and I were hoping to show you our newest magic trick.”

“We really should stop by and see what Neuvillette wants, he promised to keep us updated on anything related to Childe. How about we come by later to see the magic trick?” Aether suggests.

Lyney gives them a small smile, “Only if you promise to share with us what Neuvillette had said about Childe. ‘Father’ has been trying to get information out of Lady Furina and the Iudex ever since the guilty verdict.”

Aether and Paimon stand from their seats, “Sure we can meet and discuss it later.”

The twins glance at each other again and Aether can’t help but notice the looks on their faces. Was it panic? Fear? Or is he just being too suspicious of them since he’s aware they’re a part of the Fatui now? He lets out a sigh, shaking off the feeling as he and Paimon left with Isadora for Palais Mermonia.

-

“Aether… Paimon… You made it.”

Neuvillette’s voice was as tranquil as he stood from his chair, he walked to the front of his desk to stand near them, his hands laced behind his back.

“Yeah, Isadora made it seem like you had something really important to tell us.” Paimon begins crossing her tiny arms, “Is it about Childe?”

“Not necessarily.” Neuvillette responds, “Although he does have something to do with it.”

Aether perks up, “What’s this about then?”

“You’ve heard that the Creator is in Fontaine, correct?”

Aether’s and Paimon’s eyes widen, throughout the entire time they’ve been visiting the Seven all of the Archons have mentioned the Creator and their benevolence. Aether had even used some mora to buy books to learn more about them himself. He believed that if he still couldn’t find his sister even after meeting the final Archon, he would have to find a way to reach out to the Creator themselves.

But they have been here, in Fontaine this whole time and he didn’t even know?

“T–the Creator is what!” Paimon exclaims, “Where are they! When can we meet them!”

“Calm down for a second.” Neuvillette orders, “That's the reason I’ve called you here.”

Neuvillette explains to the two the string of bad events he and Furina had committed against the Creator. From calling them a fraud and putting them on trial and watching a Clorinde duel them and almost killed them on the spot.

“...They have been recovering in the hospital ever since. However I was informed by some Melusines that when they went to check on Their Grace today, they were missing?”

Aethers eyebrows furrow, “Missing?”

“Indeed. It appears that late last night that they were gone without a trace. Clorinde has checked all around Fontaine, above and underwater and we still haven’t found them. However,  after some investigating of their room, we don’t believe they left by choice. The room they were staying in was trashed like someone was deliberately trying to conceal evidence.”

“Who would do that to the Creator? Wouldn’t that be the biggest crime you could commit in all of Fonta– actually in all of Teyvat?” Paimon exclaims. 

“Correct.” Neuvillette says, “But we found this weird vial in the trash by the door. I guess the culprit didn’t believe that we would look there.”

“What was in the vial?” Aether asks.

“I had it inspected by a nurse I trust personally, she had explained how some of the ingredients originate from Snezhnaya.”

Paimon stammers, “Snezhnaya! Of course! Only the Fatui would be willing to do something so cruel!” There was a frown on the fairy’s lips as she stomped her foot in the air.

“I do not know what kind of beliefs Snezhnaya nor the Fatui hold toward the Creator, but we must make rescuing them our utmost priority.”

“How did you want us to help?” Aether asks, his kind nature shining over like always.

“If the Fatui really did manage to capture Their Grace, there’s only one person here in Fontaine who may be aware of what they'll do to them.”

Paimon and Aether look at each other.

“Childe.”

Neuvillette nods, “Indeed. Mr. Tartaglia is a harbinger. He should hold some of the highest secrets within the group. Including those about Their Grace.”

Neuvillette walks back over to his desk, sifting through the papers on top of it. “If you’re willing, I will file false charges against you and allow you to enter the Fortress of Meropide to question Mr. Tartaglia about these plans.”

Aether gives a firm nod, “I’m willing. I need some answers from Their Grace once we find them.”

“Very well.” Neuvillette, “You two should prepare yourselves. Once you enter the Fortress of Meropide, It’ll be hard for me to contact you. You’ll be treated like an actual prisoner.”

Paimon places her hands on her stomach, “Oh no. After hearing that, Paimons suddenly feeling hungry again.”

“I will begin making the arrangements.” Neuvillette says as he sits back down, “I hope that you two will return with good news.”

“Neuvillette?” Aether calls.

The Chief Justice meets the outlander's gaze, “Yes? What is it?”

“After what you’ve just told us I can’t stop thinking…” Aether begins, “do you think that this could be the Prophecy? That this is the sin Fontainians committed?”

Neuvillette cast a wide eyed look, and looked back down to his desk, an almost shameful look on his face.

“... I am hoping that’s not the case.” He whispered softly. 

© avocad1s 2023

Note: Does this post look slightly different than the rest? I switched over to writing on desktop rather than on mobile... which is also one of the reasons why I took so long to post.

Tagging: @bittersweetorpheus @esthelily @tempestlart @angelofdarkness2 @mmeatt @dxprived4-starboys @Itm-acct @honey-lemonz @ymechi @nervouseaglelover @livelaughlovekuni @vianitry @vvyeislazzy @kbar1013 @ichiraku-verse @chaoticfivesworld @eplefugl @mabvo @g3n0dtt @shikanosn @noahrandom @haunts-gh0st @pix-stuff @riiriin @emmbny @mih3r4 @shiki-jin @owl778 @ra404 @leekingsman @ash1 @wangjiswarren @shellofthewell @f1onaa @mahi-does-some-art @bitchyfanfics-posts @emilymikado @sarah22447 @swagbucksjester  @chrysanthemum-00 @nex-crowley @iruiji @cloise @scalyalpaca @game-savvy @dreamlessnight

If you wish to be removed from the taglist just inbox me and I will remove you! If your @ is bolded that means I cannot tag you (unless I’m just dumb lol) Hopefully I've tagged everyone who's asked and didn't make any mistakes!

[rax-writes]

↬ when night falls

Tywin Lannister x Reader

intended to be a sequel to the morning after, but it's not necessary that you read it prior to this

Warnings: Smut, MDNI, 18+ ONLY ⇆ P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, age gap, nipple play, bit of breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, pregnant!reader

The journey from Winterfell to King's Landing took considerably longer than necessary, given the Queen's insistence that she travel in that godsforsaken carriage of hers. As such, five weeks after your marriage to Tywin Lannister, you were spending one final night in a lavish red and gold tent alongside your lord husband.

For the entirety of the journey, the two of you spent the entire day apart – your horse trotting behind your father and King Robert, and Tywin a short distance behind, alongside Ser Jamie. Occasionally, Arya would pester you into allowing her to sit in front of you on the saddle, as you quietly conversed with her and taught her how to control the horse. But, aside from that, you were alone with your thoughts all day, every day.

The nights, however, were spent in the arms of your lord husband.

The two of you quite quickly developed a very… peculiar dynamic. You had quickly learned and adapted to the way the fearsome Tywin Lannister operates – preferring you speak concisely and directly, vehemently uninterested in anything otherwise. Additionally, there was a degree of mutual respect, as well as a vaguely guarded openness to one another – but certainly no love, or any semblance of romantic feelings at all. In truth, you assumed there never would be.

But gods was there lust.

On your end, it was your first and only experience with sex, and it was undeniably good, so you were eager for it. On his end… you couldn't be sure. It could be that the man was pent up from years as a bachelor, but it would be safe to assume he had simply sent for a whore when the mood struck him. A more likely reason would be his pursuit of an heir, but surely he wouldn't have needed to fill your cunt nightly to achieve that goal. No, you were almost certain that he was simply enjoying fucking you – just as much as you were enjoying fucking him.

When Tywin entered the tent, you were sitting on the edge of the cot, toying with the goblet in your hands, already undressed to your shift. He met your eyes as he entered, but said nothing, that unreadable (but somehow always leaning toward annoyed) expression on his face. He silently began taking off his boots, then removed his sword and placed it beside the cot. He was in the middle of pouring wine into his goblet when you found the courage to ask your question.

"Will you stop bedding me when I become pregnant?"

Tywin said nothing, setting the pitcher down and turning to face you as he took a sip of his wine. He wore that calm, calculating expression as he stared at you – but you could swear there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. The golden goblet made a faint clank as he set it down before speaking.

"Do you ask because you wish for me to stop? Or because you wish for me to continue?"

"I wish for you to continue."

"Then I shall continue," Tywin stated, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Good," you replied, then added, "Because I am."

"You are what?"

"Pregnant."

The smile dropped and Tywin's eyebrows raised, making his forehead crinkle.

"Already?" he inquired dryly, surprised. Then, incredulous, he asked, "How do you know?"

It was a fair question. You had never been pregnant before, so perhaps you were mistaking soreness and fatigue from travel as signs of pregnancy. But no. You knew.

"I should have bled three weeks ago, but I have not. My breasts are extremely tender, and certain smells make my stomach turn."

Tywin nodded, then stated, "I do not doubt that you are right, but we will have a Maester provide his confirmation and look you over when we arrive in King's Landing. In the meantime, is there anything you need?"

A faint but wicked smile spread across your face, and you stood from the bed, setting the goblet down as you slowly made your way over to him. The metal of his armor was cold beneath your fingers as you idly ran your hands over his chest, before toying with the belt around his hips, looking up at him through your lashes.

"You," was your simple answer. But both of you knew that it wasn't meant in a romantic, sweet sort of way.

Tywin's hand reached up to cradle your face, somewhat harshly, hooking his thumb under your jaw to tilt your head up and kiss you. It was lustful and full of desire, accompanied by the scratch of his beard upon the delicate skin of your face.

When he pulled away, Tywin smiled quite faintly, then hummed lowly and said, "Well, what sort of man would I be to deny his pregnant lady wife her wish?"

The old lion made quick work of removing his armor and smallclothes, and relieving you of the thin linen shift you wore, before guiding you to the luxurious cot. Tywin continued to kiss you, eventually trailing kisses down your neck, until he reached your chest, unexpectedly taking one of your breasts into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it.

The sensation nearly made you shout, opting to take in a sharp breath instead as your back arched off the blankets. Eyes squeezed shut, you heard a low chuckle, and looked down to see a set of very amused, crystalline eyes staring up at you.

"Hm, I see you were not exaggerating about the sensitivity."

Electing to ignore him, you let your head fall back onto the pillow. However, it seemed he did not intend to grant you any reprieve, moving to the other breast and doing the same thing – prompting you to dig your nails into his shoulders and bite your lip to avoid crying out. Unfortunately, that made matters worse, as Tywin let out a low groan with his lips still wrapped around your nipple, earning a loud, pitiful whine from you.

Seemingly enjoying himself, Tywin began peppering your chest with gentle bites, which he soothed with his tongue afterwards, sure to become small little bruises by morning. Breathy moans and sighs of pleasure filled the tent, as he then resumed his ministrations on the hardened peaks of your breasts before snaking one hand down to toy with your clit, expertly rubbing it in small, steady circles. Astoundingly fast, your release washed over you, soaking his hand as you moaned and writhed beneath the Warden of the West – who only chuckled darkly at your quick climax.

Noticing that the continued kisses and licks upon your breasts began to make you twitch, Tywin captured your lips in a brief, rough kiss, before rolling onto his back. He then pulled you into his lap, with a strength one wouldn’t assume the older man to still possess – which was, admittedly, arousing. Your mind was still foggy from the orgasm, and your movements were not unlike a rag doll, eyes half-lidded and jaw slack, moving somewhat limply as you allowed him to maneuver you. He gripped his hard, leaking cock in one hand, then reached behind you to urge you forward with a flat palm on the small of your back.

A hiss through gritted teeth escaped Tywin, and you gasped lightly, head thrown back and hands flat on his chest. Although you’d already lost count of how many times he’d taken you, it still felt more incredible than anything you’d ever experienced. A passing thought reminded you of the fact that he seemed to share the sentiment, always hissing or groaning when he first sheathed himself inside you.

Tywin’s grip moved to your hips, prompting you to begin rocking them against his own, keeping your pace steady. However, he made no move to halt you when you eventually began to move faster, leaning back to rest your hands on his thighs as you fucked yourself on his long, thick cock. The sound of it alone would have made a Septa drop dead – a symphony composed of wet skin upon skin and gruff grunts intermingling with breathy moans.

He reached up to grasp and knead your breasts in his rough, calloused hands – but he then surprised you, his hands drifting lower, until they rested flat against your lower stomach. You thought perhaps he was focusing on the movement of your hips, but then his thumbs began to stroke across the soft skin of your belly.

At first, it seemed very sweet and sentimental. You thought that perhaps he was basking in the joy of another child being on the way – until you felt the way his cock throbbed, deep inside of you, as he stared intently at your belly. Immediately, you came to the realization that it must be arousing for a man to have successfully fucked a babe into his wife – stroking their ego and their pride to have done their husbandly duty, as well as show everyone that you belong to them.

Truth be told, you were surprised to learn that it aroused you just as much.

Tywin groaned as you clenched around him, and when his eyes flicked up to meet yours, it felt as though he knew you had been thinking the very same thing he was.

That seemed to ignite something within your husband, and in the blink of an eye, Tywin flipped you onto your back and began driving into your soaked cunt with a newfound ferocity. You bit down on your knuckle to keep quiet, but Tywin pinned both of your wrists down, his arms on either side of your head. The act did not last much longer beyond that point, both parties having already been too near the precipice of climax, and the pair of you met your releases in unison.

Tywin rolled off of you, breathing heavily, a light layer of sweat covering his chest, along with the small patches of silver hair. You allowed yourself a few moments of recovery, before moving to leave the cot in order to extinguish the candles, as well as tidy yourself up. However, Tywin grabbed your arm to stop you.

“Where are you going?”

“The candles –”

“Can wait,” Tywin interrupted, voice sounding unbothered as always, albeit with a hint of fatigue. He exhaled slowly, as he gently pulled you back down to lay upon the cot beside him. “One of the guards outside can see to the candles in a moment. You are carrying my heir, so you are to rest. As much as is feasible, from now until the babe is born. And if anyone questions it, they are to discuss it with me.”

Anyone possessing the sense the gods gave a mule knows “discussing” something with Tywin Lannister was just the opposite – it was not to be addressed at all, because what Tywin Lannister says, goes. A fact which made you smile softly.

“As my lord husband commands,” you replied, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, but you did exactly as he bade you, pulling some of the blankets over you and nestling into the pillows. You were already yawning by the time Tywin called for a guard, who extinguished the candles, and bathed the room in darkness as you drifted into a deep, contented sleep.

[brainddeadd]

fluff, angst if you squint

“You told me that you loved me and then ran away, what am I supposed to do with that? I mean, do you really not see that I love you? Adore you, really. And they say that love is supposed to be easy, clear, concise, something that comes naturally and not something you’re supposed to be terrified of. But love seems to be the most terrifying thing in the world right now, to me at least. And people have asked me why I love you, God, you really are the only person who doesn’t see it, aren’t you?"

"Chan-"

"And most people expect me to say it’s because you listen to me and actually pay attention or something like that, but its so so so much more than that. It’s how you dramatically and ungracefully flop onto your bed after a long ass day and how you immediately turn to me and ask how my day was after you’ve crashed, even when you’re falling asleep as you speak. It’s how you love all of the old records and songs and how passionate you are about the books you read and the people and things you love. It’s how you leave a light on at 3am because you’re reading a book that you just can’t put down and how you practically buzz while you’re waiting to write something down.” Chan took a breath, mind racing, heart pounding, the words coming out before he could stop them.

"Chris-"

“It’s how you always have food ready for me when I get home after a long day and how you always know exactly what is wrong or what I need without me even saying anything and it’s how I can do the exact same thing with you. It’s every little thing you do. All of it makes me fall so incredibly deeply in love with you. You never asked me for anything, much less my heart, but I gave you my soul.”

[grandmother-goblin]

Dialogue Punctuation Cheat Sheet

This is just a friendly little guide on how to use punctuation in dialogue since (at least for me) this isn’t something that I was taught in school and had to learn on my own. That being said, I am not an expert! I don’t have an English degree or anything like that! I’m just an avid reader and writer and wanted to share what I have learned in a concise format.

A lot of this information is from “How to Write Dazzling Dialogue: The Fastest Way to Improve Any Manuscript” by James Scott Bell, “The Best Punctuation Book, Period” by June Casagrande, and “The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation” by Jane Straus, Lester Kaufman, and Tom Stern. If you’re able to get these books, I highly recommend them!

(Also, yes I used Disney quotes for most of my examples lol)

---

Rule 1: Dialogue punctuation includes the following:

Period

Comma

Question mark

Exclamation point

Em-dash

Ellipsis

All dialogue will include some sort of punctuation before the closing quotation. 

---

Rule 2: Punctuation goes inside the quotes.

Correct

“Do you want to build a snowman?” Anna asked.

Correct

“You can’t marry a man you just met,” Elsa said.

Incorrect

“Do you want to build a snowman”? Anna asked.

---

Rule 3: Don’t capitalize a pronoun used for dialogue attribution.

Correct

“I was hiding under your porch because I love you,” he said.

Incorrect

“I was hiding under your porch because I love you,” He said.

---

Rule 4: Capitalize for action beats.

Correct

“A llama? He’s supposed to be dead!” She slammed her fist on the table.

Incorrect 

“A llama? He’s supposed to be dead!” she slammed her fist on the table.

---

Rule 5: Use a comma when introducing a quotation, such as when dialogue attribution comes at the beginning. The first word of the dialogue is capitalized.

Correct

Scar leaned forward and said, “Run away, Simba.”

Incorrect

Scar leaned forward and said. “Run away, Simba.”

Incorrect

Scar leaned forward and said, “run away, Simba.”

---

Rule 6: Use single quotation marks for quotations within quotations. Punctuation goes inside both quotations (I’ve heard this can vary depending on country).

Correct

“My father said, ‘Everything the light touches is our kingdom.’”

Incorrect 

“My father said, ‘Everything the light touches is our kingdom’.”

---

Rule 7: If there are two or more sentences, the speaker attribution should be put before or after the first complete phrase.

Correct

Grandmother said, “Great. She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man.”

Correct

“Great,” Grandmother said. “She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man.”

Incorrect

“Great. She brings home a sword. If you ask me, she should’ve brought home a man,” Grandmother said.

(Note: This is a rule I break all the time, but I thought I would include it in this list anyway! Usually when the first sentence or two are very, very, short and go together, but they still need that “breath” of a dialogue tag in between. But it’s a good thing to be aware of!) 

---

Rule 8: Use commas to interrupt a complete sentence with a dialogue attribution. Don’t capitalize the next word after the comma. 

Correct

“Aren’t you,” Hercules said, “a damsel in distress?”

Incorrect

“Aren’t you,” Hercules said, “A damsel in distress?”

---

Rule 9: Use ellipses to illustrate a character trailing off, showing hesitation, or a pause.

“Aren’t you… a damsel in distress?”

---

Rule 10: Em-dashes can be used for interruptions, indicating simultaneous actions that do not cause an interruption, or a change in thought/tone. Don’t use dialogue attribution after an em-dash.

Another Person Interrupts

Correct

“He would never do anything to hurt me. He—”

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Correct

Meg said, “He would never do anything to hurt me. He—”

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Incorrect

“He would never do anything to hurt me. He—” Meg said.

Hades threw up his hands. “He’s a guy!”

Self Interruption

“I—” Hercules reached into his pocket and pulled out a small doll. “I’m an action figure!"

Simultaneous Action

“I am surrounded” — Scar dragged his paw over his face — “by idiots.” 

Change In Thought/Tone

“It’s not that you’re awkward. I’m awkward. You’re gorgeous — wait, what?”

---

Other Notes (these might just be my personal preferences, feel free to ignore)

Don’t use semi-colons in dialogue. Use a period instead.

Use exclamation points sparingly. Extremely sparingly. Maybe once per 10k words or even less.

After using an ellipsis, saying “he/she trailed off” is redundant. Just skip to the next action. The ellipsis already implies someone trailed off.

New speaker (or character action that serves as a response) = New paragraph.

“Said” should be your most commonly used dialogue tag. Any dialogue tag other than “said” or “asked” will stick out to the reader, and should be used sparingly.

If there is anything I missed, got wrong, or should add, PLEASE KINDLY LET ME KNOW! Again, I don’t have an English degree, I’m not a professional, and I’m actually a bit of a pea-brain, but these are the general rules that I know of and follow in my writing.

[beauty-and-passion]

Why you should listen to Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium

I didn't expect to truly write a post about this album.

Anons introduced me to its genesis, production and themes and they seemed interesting... but was there enough food for thought?

I had no idea. My expectations were positive, so I imagined I would listen to something good: I just didn't know if this album had enough for me to talk about and say something new - considering that the CCCC fans already did a great job analyzing every detail of the songs.

But when I listened to them (and read more theories/explanations), I noticed some interesting things. Things that stirred my brain and made me think. Things I wanted to talk about.

So here I am, writing a post about Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium Volume 1. I am not pretending to explain the lore or the songs in detail and I don't want to bother you with an extremely long post. All I want is to give you some material to decide if CCCC is worth a try.

And, if you've never heard about it before, I hope my words will spark your interest, because this album deserves more attention.

One last thing: please be aware I will talk about all sorts of themes, from love to suicide, because those are also the themes of the album.

_______________________________

A simple plot

I can hear you, fans who have listened to the whole album: simple story?! It's complicated! It's open to interpretations!

And yes, you're right. But if we consider the core foundation on which the songs are built... well, that's quite straightforward. With this album, Chonny Jash is telling us about his struggles and how they led to a psychological split inside him into Mind, Heart and Soul. Then these three parts start fighting, until they find a way to reunite again.

And yes, we can also add that this is a time loop and things are destined to repeat themselves, but the structure is still simple, clear and concise. As clear as the tripartition of the album into Calamity, Cacophony and Concord, three parts that correspond to the story's three main points: the split, the fight, the reunion.

And this simplicity isn't a bad thing, oh absolutely not. This is perfect.

There's a common misconception that a good story should be complicated. The plot should be complex and convoluted and the more complex and convoluted it is, the better the story will be. I made this conceptual mistake too and it took me years to realize how wrong it was: the better stories are not the most complicated ones, but the simpler ones.

Why?, you may ask. Isn't a simple story proof of amateur writing - or even worse, lack of creativity?

Actually, it's quite the opposite and there are four reasons why:

If a story has a simple, clear foundation, it will be easier to build on it: a simple foundation is stable and strong, it won't break down too easily. You can add layers and metaphors and hide your plot points behind different interpretations, but your public won't get lost, because the foundation would still be clear: there are three figures, they fight, they reunite. Everyone can understand it.

If everyone can understand your foundation, your story is universal. Everyone can approach and experience it, from an old person to a child, and everyone will find something inside: a message, a feeling, a piece of advice, anything.

If your story is universal and the foundation clear, your vision is also clear. And if your vision is clear, you know what you're doing. And if you know what you're doing, your story will be much more organized too: there won't be dull/useless parts, filler, or moments in which you're just dilly-dallying, waiting for the right idea to strike.

Since your story will be more organized, the flow will be better too and the events will make sense, the public will be more prone to welcome the suspension of disbelief and immerse themselves in the story. People aren't stupid, they can subconsciously feel when an artist is confident and the story is strong. And once they feel it, you win. The public is yours now, you can guide it into your world and show your vision as you intended. And people will let you do it, because they know they're in good hands.

This is what I experienced too, the more I progressed with my listening. There was a lot of care behind every word, the lyrics kept explaining and expanding the plot and everything showed the confidence of an author who knows what he is doing and how to do it.

And there's nothing better for a story, than a confident author.

_______________________________

Clear elements despite the ambiguity

Even if the foundation of CCCC is very simple, the story is enriched by a ton of ambiguities and things purposely left very vague. They may be better explained when/if Volume 2 comes out in the future, they may be left open to interpretation forever. It doesn't really matter: having a full understanding is good, but leaving everything behind a veil of mystery is a good choice as well. It depends on Mr. Jash's choice - and if my previous point wasn't clear enough, I trust this guy's choices.

However, despite the ambiguity, I also really appreciated how there are a lot of extremely clear elements in this story, starting from some events, to specific details of the main characters involved.

Some examples?

Heart tried to shoot/kill/destroy Mind

Heart's breakdown is due to something love-related

The whole series of events is stuck in a loop

Mr. Jash threatens suicide if the parts of himself don't reconcile

Mr. Jash frequently talks about how he keeps making covers of songs others made before him

And what about the details? For example, we know that every character has a specific set of elements associated with them:

an object: a blindfold (Heart), a crown (Mind), a trident (Soul)

a name: Artemis/the moon/Juno (Heart), Apollo/the sun (Mind), Atlas (Soul)

a color: black+purple (Heart), blue+white (Mind), gray+red (Soul)

And those are all elements we get from the songs and they get stuck with you, while you progress with your listening.

Again, this is a very clever choice: considering everything is open to interpretation, having some clear elements serves as "anchor points" in a sea of ambiguities. By doing that, the listeners won't get lost in a maelstrom of possibilities, but they will keep being guided down a clear path - the one traced by the main points of the album (breakdown, fight, reunion).

Also, having some fixed elements keeps everyone's attention too: some people might like to get lost in pure ambiguity, but most lose interest in a too-vague story. Even if the author had a clear plan, if everything is too obscure, people will inevitably think: "It's incomprehensible, so the author had no idea what they were doing" and ditch the story entirely.

Mr. Jash handled the ambiguity aspect very well, by balancing the obscurities with the clear elements. And this proved, once again, how clear, strong and detailed his vision is.

_______________________________

Favorite character?

Ooof, that's hard.

Each character has a specific personality and that alone proves how carefully Mr. Jash planned every element related to them.

Heart is sad, desperate, apathetic, prone to self-pity, sick and tired of everything. But he's also strong enough to try and oppose Mind out of fear of what he could do. He tried to attack someone as powerful as him and take him down, just to preserve the Soul and save their vessel.

And that proves he's not weak at all: he's a lot more powerful than he seems. And, as he said, he's not a child: he felt Mind could've been a threat, so he took the matter into his own hands and tried to find a solution.

And it makes sense his solution was so drastic, because it was dictated by feelings. Because the Heart is influenced by feelings. It's perfectly coherent with the kind of character he is.

Same goes for Mind: he's cold, harsh, a threatening figure because of his design/nature. He takes control of the situation, he appoints himself as the new leader, he wants to react, do something, move forward and ignore the element he sees as the weak link.

And he definitely doesn't hold a grudge towards Heart, nope nope: my bro spent a whole song saying "Look at Heart, he's an idiot". And then, if this isn't enough, he ended his song, by calling Heart "akaryocyte": which is a cell without a nucleus. Hence, a virus.

I'll admit it: this sick burn is the sickest burn that ever burned and probably the most clever insult I've ever read and that made Mind top #1 best character of the album - sorry Heart, but Mind is too sick. (Also, I am a cold logical person too, so I ended up thinking the guy wasn't so bad after all.)

Last but not least, we have Soul. And Soul is basically shut down all the time by these two motherfuckers arguing, to the point he looks more like a shadow, rather than a real character... until he decides that you know what, time to show how confident he actually is:

You must be so arrogant to think that either of you Can control The Soul so wholly When to be one whole you can't hold solely

One song was enough to show Soul's true colors. He's stronger than the other two, he's more in control than them and he's the only one able to draw a line and make an actual threat: if they do not find a way to reunite, he will kill them both.

A couple words and Soul's picture got flipped: he's not just a background voice anymore, he's the leading figure now. And if he is sick and tired, then these three are facing the real shit.

But just like the other two, Soul isn't just that and we see it in The Bidding.

Here happens something incredibly beautiful: once Heart and Mind find a way to harmonize, Soul immediately rejoices: with the impatience of a child, he asks them to do it again, "One more time, go again/No, this can't be the end". Soul, this powerful figure who threatened suicide one second ago, begs them to try again, to do it "for me", because they can finally harmonize, because "I don't know how much more I can take".

Once again, with a couple sentences, we learn how heavy this whole situation has been on Soul and how eager he is to try again, once the other two find a possible harmony.

This doesn't just show how deeply Soul has been affected by the whole situation, but also (on a higher level) how strong hope is.

Soul was ready to commit suicide: a few verses before he said this was the day "we'll tie the rope". But one small step in the right direction, despite being flawed and made out of spite and resentment, was all he needed to change his mind and drop the idea of suicide entirely.

That also proves how human Soul is. Because this is what humans feel too, especially when they play with the idea of suicide. Most of the time, this idea is the result of desperation and inability to find a way out of a situation that seems impossible to overcome. But once these people find even a teeny tiny fragment of hope, the will to live overcomes desperation and people latch to said hope, no matter how small it is. And, just like Soul did here, they try to have it again, to repeat it, to feel that spark again.

Because the will to live is always much, much stronger than the desperation that leads to suicide.

_______________________________

The choice of a time loop

These three characters are stuck in a time loop: things are destined to repeat themselves. And believe it or not, but this is extremely human too - and a clever choice as well.

From a psychological perspective, Mr. Jash can "break" again anytime. Life is full of stuff and events, so... who knows? Maybe in the future, he will face another heartbreak and his Whole will break down into three once more. Or maybe it won't be because of a heartbreak: maybe something else will happen and lead to a new split, a new fight and a new reconciliation. Maybe even the lack of confidence that starts to shine in Concord is proof of a future split.

But if we think about it, the time loop works from another perspective too: a meta one.

Every time you listen to the whole album, every time to replay the songs, you are relieving the split. Every time you listen to them, Whole splits into Heart, Mind and Soul. Every time you trace their history, they split, fight and reconcile.

In other words: every replay is a new loop, a loop in which these characters are stuck - not just because of their humanity, but because they're characters and this is their story. They cannot escape from it, because that's their entire world.

I don't know if Mr. Jash thought about that while making this album... but he gave me this thought and that's just another proof of what I said at the beginning of this post: if a story is very well made, everyone can find a message inside it. And I'm sure you will find something too.

EDIT: You will find the whole analysis of CCCC Vol. 1 starting from HERE

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[manicpixiedreamedwins]

Alright. I've been talking about writing a meta about Charles and jealousy for a while, so here it is. It's a mess. I tried to make it more concise than it was, if you can believe that.

Be forewarned, below the cut we'll be diving into some canon compliant content like Charles' home life. Please, please, please note that now is the time to leave if you are not in a good space to read about those.

Okay. First I want to establish a few things before I get to analyzing the scenes, because I think it is important that we have empathy for Charles here. This might be a bit of a long preamble, but if you could stay with me I'd appreciate it. I promise I am going somewhere with all of this.

I think a lot of us have been told, perhaps by a parent or a friend, that jealousy is unbecoming or bad. Think about it. I know growing up that is a message I heard frequently even though I saw adults exhibit it. This was actually pretty confusing to try and work out. Anyway, now with this almost puritanical obsession with good pure and healthy relationships in media, it's gotten worse. We're told any human flaw we have is something we have to fix or we are not deserving of love. Yes, including jealousy.

Only if that's the case, Charles is fighting uphill here. Here's why:

For reference 41:30 -42:00 in episode 4 is the flashback that The Night Nurse shows Charles of his home. If we unpack this we can learn a lot of things, but there are two that I would like two draw your attention to today:

Charles' dad clearly isn't someone Charles could form a secure attachment to. He seems to only be acknowledging Charles when he's angry, and only acknowledging him in a very violent manner. He's also not really communicating with him, and expecting Charles to know what he's upset about I guess? Truly, this man is terrifying. He knows his family is afraid of him, and he knows they'll scramble to try and fix whatever his issue is.

Charles' mom doesn't intervene. Now, I do not want to hear any vile junk in my notes. She's a battered woman and has probably been in the same position that Charles has, considering Charles himself is worried about her once he is dead. He's worried enough that he checks in on her every week. It makes it all the more heartbreaking that Charles is the one who has taken it upon himself to try and "make it better" (although this is not uncommon among kids who grow up in abusive households, alarmingly).

It definitely drives home that there is a clear hierarchy in the home (everyone tries to please the most volatile person), and you're at the bottom of the pyramid. Even if it's just because you and everyone else in the household is too terrified to do anything about the most abusive person's behavior, you still feel the weight of never being put first. You will never be put first, because how could you be? "You never made it better than you died" (via The Night Nurse) holds a crushing amount of meaning here.

Alright. Now we have established that Charles had some messed up stuff happen at home. Let's take that a step further. Adverse childhood experiences can lead to a variety of attachment styles that are not secure and... you guessed it, jealousy can get thrown in the mix. (This link leads to an abstract of a very interesting research article. If you request the full test directly from the researcher they will provide it for free, but it takes time. The basic idea here is that if kids aren’t able to form secure attachments to their parents, then they will struggle to feel secure in their relationships as they grow up. Sometimes that can manifest as jealousy).

Still with me after all of that? You are god's strongest soldier, lmao. Now let's get into the good stuff.

Charles dies, but there in the attic he meets Edwin. Charles chooses Edwin over the blue light without a second thought. He comforted him when he was dying, and that tenderness is foreign for Charles. The choice is an easy one.

He enjoyed it, and he enjoys Edwin. Edwin, in turn, turns out to be is someone who unequivocally, continuously, puts Charles first. He also does something really important- Charles seeks reassurance, and Edwin gives it ("You ever think, what if Death did catch us? She'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up" Charles asks. "I will make sure that never happens" Edwin answers, all while they're hanging on the side of their office). This is one of the first things we learn about them in the pilot. Charles knows he can count on Edwin. This wasn't something he had from anyone in life.

So things go fine for Charles for a long while. Edwin hasn't given him any reason to feel insecure in all that time it seems. He’s done a great job making Charles feel safe. Charles even feels secure enough that it is his idea to try and integrate Crystal into the agency, although Edwin clearly hates it. Crystal isn’t a threat to his friendship with Edwin, so it would appear Charles still feels reasonably secure in their relationship at this point.

Charles even explains or excuses a lot of Edwin's reactions to try and smooth things over. He tries to mediate between them during their first plan to rescue Becky from Esther's house the best he can. He allows Edwin to have a leg of the case with just the two of them, but he tries to frame it as protecting Crystal.

But then it's Edwin's turn to shake up the foundation that their relationship is built on.

Edwin had a lot of issues to attend to this season, and he tried to deal with most of them alone. Most of the problems Edwin had to handle put definite distance between him and Charles- how couldn't they? He was being hit on, which was a very new experience for him. He probably didn't even know how to talk about that at first, as evidenced by his description of the CK speaking closely to his ear (oh sweet summer child). He also learned about his feelings for the first time, which Monty had to finish spelling out for him.

This all, however, is where we see a shift in the dynamic. It's significant.

Edwin uses magic on a cat and has to go and meet with the Cat King. Whoops. 🙃 Charles slides easily into his role as a protector, but… Edwin stops him.

Honestly, Edwin had a good reason to do this. He pointed out that cat scratches can cause serious harm to ghosts, and they were surrounded. As endearing as this was, this wouldn’t have been an easy fight. They can just talk this out, right? He gets whisked away for a few minutes to do that (and then winds up opening a bigger can of worms).

From Charles’ perspective though, Edwin doesn’t allow him to help him, and then vanishes for a long period of time. Then he absolutely won’t tell him anything about it when he does come back. Charles knew Edwin was a little mad at him in the pilot, but they were still communicating for the most part. The secrecy is a shift, and it’s not one he’s coping well with. He tries a few different ways to reconnect.

First he tries gentle. He just asks what happened from a place of concern. This might have worked actually, only I’m not even sure Edwin knows how to fully describe what happened during their encounter. He rushes through a description, and Charles still feels like something is missing. He doesn’t like that someone else has a secret with Edwin— for thirty years they’ve been connected. This feels frightening to him, and Edwin doesn’t seem particularly worried that they’re not on the same page.

He tries to pick the conversation back up later when they’re searching for the dandelion shrine, but Edwin doesn’t give any additional information. So he slides back into his role of being a protector again and defends him against the ambient skeletons, because at least he can protect him from that easily. For a moment, things almost seem normal again, but this resurfaces in a later case.

Edwin meets with CK again in episode 4. Charles is still raw after the events of the Devlin House, and now he’s just pissed. He’s hurting, and Edwin is still keeping this weird secret. They end up bickering back and forth. The bickering tells us something interesting about Charles’ concerns.

Charles: What did he want? He didn't whisk you away again? Got that bracelet off?

Edwin: I'd be back at the office right now if the bracelet was off. He wanted to know if I counted the cats, and my guess was unsatisfactory.

Charles: Thinks he can come and go... He can't show up in the middle of cases. Did you tell him that?

Edwin: Matter of fact, I did.

Charles: Can't believe you didn't tell us. I've had enough of secrets about that wankеr.

Edwin: Why are you getting so angry?

What stands out to me here is Charles is upset about a few things: he hates that Edwin is getting taken away from him by a being they can’t control (a logical fear, considering they’re running from death together). He hates that this is happening in the middle of case time that is supposed to be for him and Edwin (and their friends, who Charles trusts). He is still really upset that Edwin has a secret with someone else (I really don’t think he’d be bothered if the secret was with him).

That’s why he’s upset. Charles isn’t feeling secure. He doesn’t feel like their relationship is on good footing right now. Whether or not he knows how to phrase that or ask for support is a different question.

Onto Monty (sorry these are a bit out of order— I put them by character for this part).

Charles wasn’t aware of Monty. This probably already bothered him a little, considering the mystery surrounding the cat king, but he tried to be a good sport. Monty wasn’t outwardly threatening. He came with gifts. He seemed friendly. Charles tried to match that… only to get snubbed. Ouch.

Charles likes to claim he’s aces with other people, but he ultimately died because his friends turned on him and killed him the second he stood up for what was important to him. I think peer relationships are a particularly sticky situation for him. I think he knew how to fit in the same way he knew how not to rock the boat in a volatile home. With Edwin it was different though— Edwin just liked him. Edwin was special.

But of course yet another boy their age doesn’t like him (probably a little upsetting, considering how he died). The only thing that’s confusing to him here is he didn’t really do anything wrong— he was polite. He followed along with all the little niceties people do, even when they don’t want to. Maybe this wouldn’t have bothered him so much in another situation, but now Edwin is wrapped up with him instead of Charles. He's picked him instead (in Charles' mind).

He can’t even shake this when Monty isn’t there.

Charles tries to get Edwin's attention... and fails. so he begins to have a conversation with himself. Perhaps he was trying to make Edwin laugh. Perhaps he was trying something over the top. Still, he fails. Ultimately, he goes the broken record route and asks him the same question a couple of times.

This moment probably really hurt- there's actually no reason for Edwin to be ignoring him, in Charles' mind anyway. They're alone together. Usually they'd be talking or bantering or at least Charles would be able to get Edwin's attention. It's just that he can't, because now Edwin is stuck on that fucking book from that fucking bloke who blew him off earlier.

This was probably a little activating for Charles. Even if he didn't completely put together why it upset him, Edwin putting someone who just treated him poorly right in front of his face first is a dim reflection of what he went through in his home. Now, I am not saying Monty is anywhere near that level of bad- he's a literal cream puff. He could not kill them when his life depended on it.

What I am saying, though, that Charles perceives a subtle threat here. He's also not sure what to do with it, because he never overcame that hurtle in life. No one else ever put him first, and he never figured out how to fix that. Edwin kind of just centered Charles automatically when they met. Now he's not doing that anymore and it’s jarring and uncomfortable for him. He’s feeling this loss of stability, on top of the fact that Edwin still won’t tell him what’s going on with the CK.

"...try not to forget that we're trying to leave" is what Charles comes up with after that exchange. Edwin makes an attempt to console him finally and offers to talk, but Charles shuts it down and tells him it's that he wants to leave town. They start on a case after that.

(Note that I did this a little out of order for organization’s sake— some of their CK arguing happened during the case they went on next).

Charles does finally catch a break here. In spite of all of this, he’s missing something very important: Edwin has feelings for him. That’s probably the most pressing issue that’s gone unspoken between them.

So Edwin dresses nicely, catches Charles attention, and finally tries to initiate a conversation. Charles seems relieved.

He does assume Edwin is just trying to come out by telling him about his time with Monty, before the teethface incident. Charles isn’t bothered, since Monty isn’t really in the picture anymore as far as he’s concerned. Things are fine, it’s just the two of them again and Edwin likes boys. Wait…

... Fuck. Forgot about the Cat King.

He resorts to threatening the CK. I know lots of people have lots of different theories on this, but consider this perspective also: Monty is no longer a threat. He’s abstract. He’s a memory. The Cat King is still very real and is a thing that can come between them, has done so, and has successfully taken Edwin from him. And as accepting as Charles was trying to be in that moment, he just can't handle that (from the perspective of this meta).

Anyway, this is all interrupted by their foray into hell. Charles does rescue Edwin, Edwin confesses, and honestly I feel like that just needs to be a different thing entirely but I did type a little bit about how I think Charles interpreted all of that here.

They return. Charles is processing Edwin's confession on the roof. This whole scene mystifies me a little because yes, he didn't seem to know exactly what to say to Edwin's confession in hell (I think he did not want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing). The more rewatches I go through the more... satisfied he looks to me? He might be processing, but also he might be a little giddy that Edwin has feelings for him specifically. I'm still trying to figure out how to read this one because the lines seemed rushed but the microexpressions say so much.

Then he starts blatantly flirting with Edwin. Honestly Charles, what the fuck?(afffectionate) Truly I’m still trying to work out if he’s just testing out how Edwin reacts or if he is working through his own feelings here, but I really want more of this in S2.

That’s about all the thoughts I think I can organize on this for now without it getting obscenely long (it already is pretty long for a half baked idea that turned into a meta). Thank you for reading 🖤

[dammn-dean]

I saw that your requests were open and YAY!!!! I am such a sucker for Ghost and an injured reader and would love to read anything you tossed our way <3

Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy this 🖤

Stitches

Pairing: Ghost (Simon Riley) x Female Reader

Words: 1800+

Warnings: Reader has a crush on Ghost, reader doesn't like getting stiches, medic!Reader, war inaccuracies, blood, probably out of character

“And you’re sure it’s okay?” You ask looking up at your Lieutenant. 

“It’s fine, Doc.” Was all he gave. 

You sigh as you finished wrapping gauze around the fresh stitching you did on Ghosts forearm. You reminded the team 100 times you were in no way a Doctor, so the nickname Doc didn’t make much sense, but you gave up arguing a long time ago. Accepting your role as “Doc” for the team. 

You were knelt in front of him, as he sat on some random bucket you had found. You were almost certain that it would crumble under his weight, but it was still holding strong. 

You gently ran your thumb over the seam of the bandage, it was already sealed but you always liked to give small reassuring touches after helping one of the boys. Especially with stitching. They all say that your stitches are the best, and don’t hurt but if you are being honest… there’s nothing more you hated than getting stitches. 

Your eyes lifting from the bandage to his deep amber eyes, as beautiful as ever. His eyes held yours, unblinking causing you to clear your throat and quickly stand. You were desperately hoping you didn’t look at him as pathetically as you felt. Yes… you were sweet on Ghost, and also yes it is getting harder to cover up. But you would never admit your silly little crush on your lieutenant out loud. 

You busied yourself packing your supplies back up. Feeling the warmth on your cheeks from the minimal interaction with Ghost. 

“Thanks,” he muttered. He shoved his sleeve back over the bandage before standing to head outside. 

It was day 3 of a week-long intel mission. You’ve run into a few hostile here and there, but luckily nothing major. This last little skirmish ended with the hostile dying almost immediately, but he left a mark on the lieutenant before death. A small knife had barely grazed Ghost during a small altercation. You had to practically bed for him to allow you to give him stitches. 

“We head out in 5!” Price orders for the doorway. 

You nod as you strap your med-pack into its spot. You toss the trash over into a corner of the room that you were currently using as a small stopping spot to recoup before heading back to the mission. You grab your rifle and sling it over your shoulder as you head outside to join the team. 

——————————————————

Well everything couldn’t have stayed going smooth you suppose. That’s how you find yourself bleeding from your thigh, GSW. It hurts like hell. You couldn’t take a moment to inspect it, even if you did it wouldn’t help the pain right now. You were trying your best to keep up and provide cover fire for the rest of the team. 

It was chaos, hostiles everywhere, most have been eliminated at this point. But there were more up ahead. Specifically where you needed to end up for intel. 

Comms were as clear and concise as ever, Soap and Ghost were to the direct left of you planning their attack. While Gaz and Price have already pushed forward, inside the buildings as they were clearing a path for the rest of you. 

You were trying your best to keep your whimpers to yourself. Reminding yourself that this is what happens when you decide to become a field medic for the SAS. 

Ghost called your name over the comms, not grabbing your attention the first time. Which caused him to panic. Eyes searching for you to his right, and once he sees you he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He called for you again, this time you heard him. 

“Yes LT? Sorry.” You held your voice as steady as you could manage. 

“Just making sure you’re alive,” he responded as deadpan as ever. 

You let out a small laugh, “Sorry to disappoint, but I am alive. For now.” 

He continued comms, gesturing the plan of attack for him and Soap. Commanding you where to shoot, and you can only do what is asked of you at this point. 

You are barely keeping up, but you are doing your best. Luckily the 141 are the best of the best, before too long all incoming hostiles are eliminated as you enter the room where the intel is supposed to be. 

Ghost and Soap beelined for a laptop, ghost typing away as Soap looks over the screen. Gaz was stationed outside, ensuring no unforeseen enemy soldiers showed up. Price was in a room, on the phone probably calling for exfil. 

You let the guys get to whatever it is they needed to do, you used their distraction as an away to inspect our injury. Slowly you backed into a wall to help lower yourself to the floor. Blood was everywhere making it hard to see the extent of the damage, you ripped the pant leg as much as you could to survey the wound. After gently feeling around you confirmed the bullet grazed the outside of your thigh. There was a chunk of flesh missing but it seemed to miss bones and any major arteries, great news. 

You tugged your rifle up and off of you, tossing it to the side. The noise causes Ghost to look in your direction. 

“Fuck,” Ghost grumbled your name. 

He slid the laptop that he was typing away at to Soap, quietly telling him to keep gathering the intel. Mission was almost complete. 

Ghost was by your side in seconds. “You didn’t think to tell us you were shot?” He huffed. 

“I’m managing,” you whispered with a small smile. Letting your head fall into the wall behind you. 

Ghost could see how much blood you have lost, from the fact most of the left pant leg was stained red from blood. ‘How long ago were you shot?’ he thinks to himself, upset that you didn’t say anything. Right now he just needed to stop the bleeding. He snagged the med-pack from your side, laid it on the ground and started rummaging through it. 

You let your eyes fall close, which of course worried Ghost.

“Stay with me, yeah?” He spoke gently, but firm. “This is going to sting… sorry,” he apologizes before cleaning the area as best as he could. He was just pouring the antiseptic through the hole in your pant leg, cleaning the wound while simultaneously removing some of the blood. 

You grit your teeth and before you know it he is done. Ghost did his best to be gentle while he checked the area. “Not too bad, yeah?” He questioned, pulling his eyes from your leg to your half opened eyes.

“Bullet grazed me pretty badly, but no major damage” you explained weakly. “Lots of blood loss.” 

“Looks like it,” Ghost affirmed. He tugged his gloves off, tossing them to the left of your injured leg before pouring antiseptic on his hands. 

That definitely caught your attention. “What are you doing??” You questioned as urgently as possible while being in your state. 

“You need stitches,” Ghost explained like it was obvious. 

“I think I will be okay,” you reassured him. “Just hand me some gauze and I’ll wrap it myself.” You went to reach for the med-pack. 

Ghost let out an exasperated sigh, stopping your outreached hand. Gently grasping it into his own. 

“Look at me love.” 

Eyes almost popping out of your head at the term of endearment. They landed on his, soft as you have seen them under the skull mask. 

“It’ll be alright, yeah?” He gave a curt nod. “I may not be as good as you giving stitches, and it may hurt a little… but I promise to be as gentle as I can. ‘Kay?” Ghost spoke softly to you, leaving you no choice but to believe him. 

You felt your throat tighten, but let out a small “Okay”. He let his thumb brush softly against your knuckles for probably a moment too long. Especially in your state, it felt like a lifetime. Your eyes closed at the gentle touch, causing him to think you were fading. 

“Eyes on me.” Your lieutenant demanded. 

You gently opened them to meet his yet again, small smile on your lips. 

Ghost pulled his hand from yours before reaching in your pack for scissors. Use them to gently cut a little bit more of your pan leg away.

You couldn’t even keep track of how many stitches you have given in your day, but it never made it any easier on you. There’s something about the sensation of getting stitches yourself that you can’t move past. 

You were shaking in anticipation, Ghost could see your fingers trembling from your lap. 

“Who would have thought, our Doctor doesn’t like getting stitches?” 

“Well I’m not a doctor… just a field medic Ghost,” you stated. “And yes... I hate getting stitches.” 

“Hasn’t even been two hours since you stitched up my arm, no problem.” He said rather matter of fact.

“Yes, I can give them no problem, I just hate getting them.” You felt the tips of your ears warm, feeling embarrassed. 

“It’s okay Doc,” he reassures you with a gentle hand on your bicep. “I should have protected you better, yeah?” 

You furrowed your eyebrows at that. “What do you mean?” 

“What kind of lieutenant lets his medic get shot?” He questions, tilting his head. 

Your heart sped up at that. Hearing him call you HIS medic, touched you more than it should. 

“You are the best LT… accidents happen,” you reassured him. “Now hurry up and do this before I change my mind.”  You attempted to joke. 

“Yes ma’am,” he replied. You must be borderline delirious, because you swear you hear his voice lit up like he was smiling.

Ghost is anything but a liar, he did try his best to be gentle but it still hurt like hell. You hated every second of it. Finally breathing out an air of relief as he started to wrap bandaging around your thigh. 

“Did good love,” Ghost cooed. Once your thigh was wrapped up enough to his liking. He gently ran his thumb over the seam of the bandage, mimicking your motion from earlier. The only difference was his soft touch on your thigh felt a way more intimate than intended. 

The blood loss, soft touches and sweet voice Ghost was putting you in an odd headspace. 

“Thank you…” you whispered. His amber eyes holding yours, his thumb inching off the bandage until it just barely touched the sensitive skin of the inside of your thigh. Your breath hitches and you swear you can see Ghost’s chest rise and fall a little heavier than usual. 

“Aye, Doc! Are you good to walk?” Soap asked as he closed the laptop. “Got what we needed, let’s go.” 

Ghost ripped his hand from you and stood immediately. His arm held out to you, to help you off the floor. 

“Let’s get you home, Doc.” 

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and let me know if you have any ideas or requests.