#I'm utterly fascinated by what I got right

[rotationalsymmetry]

OK so having slept after finishing the last graduate with no idea how the golden enclaves starts (spoilers for the first/speculation about the latter):

I can see three general possible ways things might go from here.

One, the most straightforward narratively from the way TLG ended: El gets shoved through the portal, Orion gets shut into a school that's about to eat itself, Orion gets to have his epic ultra boss fight until he wins or gets eaten or dies in the void or goes mad in the void, we'll never find out which. Presumably El will have a lot of distress over this.

Downsides: does not offer clear direction for what actually happens in the entire final 1/3 of the trilogy (that's more the sort of thing you have at the end of a story), doesn't really explain El's mum's warning, if we can trust El that her mum wouldn't give that warning for avoiding pain alone. (Unless El is pregnant and the warning related to that. But damn, El's mum warning her about getting pregnant while in the Scholomance would have some really weird implications for their relationship. It's not unusual for a woman who got pregnant young to not want her daughter to do the same, but...I have trouble seeing El's mum specifically addressing that concern in that way. Especially since it's not like Orion was the only boy in school. Except maybe if there's something weird about the pregnancy due to the circumstances, but I'm hoping we're not going in a magical/cursed/supernaturally very scary pregnancy direction.)

Two, El finds a way to either keep herself from getting thrown out of the portal -- finding something to literally or magically grab onto -- or somehow manages to get back in right after. The door closes, and they're both trapped in the void with a bunch of mals. In an exploding school. I actually really like this idea? It might get very surreal for a bit. But it also might mean that there was a reason the school was rewarding El for learning so much about the golden sutras while still in school -- and the school was pushing her to do that, that double independent study -- when El was fully aware that the sensible thing to do was to focus on survival for now and the sutras after graduation.

Especially since, while the phase spell was used near the end of A Deadly Education to patch up the hole in the walls, as far as I can tell the sutras weren't even slightly used after New Year's. El used the Mandarin (I assume, for some reason it was all "Mandarin" and "Shanghaiese" in book 1 and then all of a sudden "Chinese" in book 2? Kind of hoping that's a different editions issue because why would you do that??? Like I can understand simplifying things, but pick one or the other and definitely don't go from the more subtle/nuanced approach to the dumbed down one, that's just wrong) that she was picking up mostly to speak with the freshmen more than she used the Sutras in the last half of the year. Including that plot hook where she was getting really excited about the most recent spell she was on and then we never found out what it was because then she had to hurry to breakfast and then that was it for classes for the rest of the year.

Anyways. Advantage: maybe use the sutras to build new enclave from the shattered remnants of the exploding school in the void? Without dying or getting eaten or going mad, somehow? It'd be weird but cool. Plus it provides direction for the book, and lets our fascinating couple be together. Although it would mean we don't get to meet El's Mum Higgins for much longer, which would be terrible. It would also explain the Word Of Mum since presumably getting caught in an exploding school full of mals that has been cut off from the real world and is floating in the void, is something a parent would consider a negative outcome for their child, and it only happens because El is emotionally attached to Orion. (Maybe. Or maybe she'd try to save him anyways, idk.)

Third option: El manages to yank Orion out. This has most of the disadvantages of option one (no direction for where to take book 3, kind of anticlimactic) plus doesn't even have Angst unless El does something Evil to do it and it fucks up their relationship, El's relationship with herself, and El's relationship with her mother all in one go. Like either pulling mana from Orion against his will, or maybe mind-controlling him (we know she has mind-control spells.) The part of my brain that loves feeling awful really likes this suggestion. I'm not sure where it would go from there though.

Part of me really, really wants to see El have a descent into honest to god evil at this point. I'm pretty sure the story isn't going that way, El's done such a great job of walking towards the light and resisting even the smallest step in the other direction. And I suspect thematically the book is supposed to be "fuck what people expect you to be, YOU get to decide that" which wouldn't really work if El goes evil after all.

Anyways: advantages: high angst, would explain mum's warning; disadvantages, do we actually want that much angst? also, where would the title fit in?

(I was going to bed when the title of the second book, which had seemed pretty straightforward throughout the whole thing (El is last graduate because she's going out last to save everyone and is also destroying the school, so no more graduates after her) really hit. El's the last graduate because she graduated and Orion didn't.) (Well. If option 1 plays out anyways.)

There are a couple questions that are very important here, namely, what the fuck is Orion thinking? And, what was El's mum thinking?

It's possible that Orion was thinking that he had to fight the mawmouth from hell to keep it from getting out, even though El didn't think that. Or that he thought there was some risk to El's plan and he wanted to make sure the mawmouth from hell didn't get out. We don't actually know what his perspective was here. I think it's somewhat more likely that Orion knew he could get out safely and chose to have his epic boss battle instead. It's more than adequately foreshadowed. We know Orion loves fighting mals, believes he's invincible, and has never once expressed the slightest interest in backing down from a challenge (and has generally been resistant to El trying to get him to back down.) El tends to see that as a martyr complex thing, but in the graduation hall she realizes it's not, he really does like fighting mals just that much. She also concluded he could learn to like other things as well, but she did figure out that yeah, he really does enjoy this stuff, a lot. Orion walking away from the biggest boss fight ever would be like an Olymplic athlete who's been training to be a swimmer or whatever from toddlerhood just...walking away right before the finals. Your life wouldn't make sense after that. Orion is not primarily motivated by protecting people (if he was, he'd be happy at the lack of mals in the first part of the year) he's directly motivated by the fights themselves. So it does not matter that he doesn't need to fight the mawmouth to protect anyone. Fighting the mawmouth is its own reward. (One worth presumably dying over.)

El's mum: I do not know, this really hasn't been answered yet. I'm inclined to trust El that the warning wouldn't be about pain alone, El's mum seems the type to encourage her child to make her own decisions unless there was an overwhelmingly important reason not to. Telling her child to not fall in love to avoid heartbreak is the exact opposite of what someone like El's mum would do. She's probably told a zillion grieving people that grief is love that has nowhere else to go (or whatever), that it's a healthy thing and part of being alive. There is no way she'd want El to be alone her senior year rather than close to Orion just because Orion wasn't going to make it, she's not that kind of person.

Whatever is going to happen, it's going to be worse than Orion dying/getting lost in the void or Orion being unable to forgive El for pulling him away from his big boss fight.

Or, it's not going to be about El and Orion's relationship at all. It might be that while the Scholomance thought what they were doing was right, that there will be Unintended Consequences to the world of them destroying the Scholomance and a metric shit ton of mals in the process.

And I just realized a fourth option. That in getting Orion out, El manages to also undo their hard work and let all the mals pour back out too.

But that doesn't make sense either. El's mum doesn't do the lesser evil. She wouldn't let Orion die to save other people's lives, and she wouldn't want El to do that either. So while I could see that happening as a plot point, I don't see that explaining El's mum's message. Dammit.

I think the message only makes sense if El's connection to Orion results in her doing something evil/going down the maleficer path, at least a little bit, or at least El's mother thinks she is likely to. Or maybe if there's some evil that isn't caused by a lesser good. But not if there's a greater evil caused by saving one person.

I don't know.

Or maybe El has fundamentally misunderstood her mother. That is definitely possible. The parent a child sees is not the whole adult, and realizing your parent isn't as perfect as you thought is a very common coming of age experience.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @mochie85 | divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Zero - Counting the days until I can make you mine...

Warnings for this Chapter: none besides fluff

Word Count: 1,4k

a/n: We finally kick off the Baby Fever wedding! Ahhhh, I'm BEYOND excited! 🥳 HUGE thanks to every wonderful person who has been a part of this story! You've been fantastic! All your ideas and endless creativity. The love you gave and still give this AU... I am blessed! 🙏🏼 I loved working with y'all! 🤍

Now... Without further ado... Enjoy the first chapter!

💍 Chapter One 💍

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• A Covenant for Eternity Masterlist (coming soon!)

You were standing in front of the stove inside the big communal kitchen of the Avengers compound; baking your world famous chocolate caramel cupcakes. Everybody loved the sweet treat. Even Nick.

It was a little gesture from you - and Loki - who actually wanted to help you, in order to show your gratitude towards everybody who helped you organise your wedding. With Natasha leading the way as your maid of honour and of course Thor as Loki's best man.

Currently you were preparing the caramel cream; humming along to the music which blasted through the over-ear headphones on your head. Since turning sugar into caramel took its time, you definitely needed some entertainment. If you only knew where your soon-to-be husband was...

Once you had added the cream to the caramel and kept on stirring the mixture inside the pot to Taylor Swift's '22', you couldn't help but move to the tones. But once the next song came on, your heart skipped not just one beat... With your eyes widening and lips parting into a big, dreamy smile, you immediately recognised that Spotify just decided to hit you with one of the two songs you were going to have your wedding dance to with Loki - wonderful memories to me made.

The coordinated stirring turned into aimless scratching across the bottom of the pot as your thoughts drifted off; reminiscing in the past and creating the future.

"Which constellation is that over there, my love?" Your gaze followed the direction Loki pointed to. "Uhh..." You frowned in concentration, "I think that should be Cassiopeia - but..." and squinted your eyes. "Something isn't right..." "What do you mean, love?" "There's a star in the constellation that shouldn't be there... Cassiopeia looks like a 'W', but... there's a star too much. It doesn't belong there." Loki let out a short gasp of realisation. "Ahh you mean that one star on the top left corner?" "Yes! Can you see it? Why is it there? This actually can't be..." A knowing smile crept up Loki's face. "Well, about that, I think I have an answer for that." You blinked at your boyfriend in confusion. "You have?" He nodded and sat up, before he summoned some magic. "Look up, my love." You were still confused, but did what Loki said, looked back at the wrong star constellation - and gasped. "W-What is happening now?" The extra star had started to shine brightly all of a sudden and with a snap of Loki's fingers, it... sunk down? Straight towards the two of you. Your eyes widened, as you grabbed on the God's forearm. "L-Lokes, what's... What's that? What's happening?!" Loki just smiled, with the star getting closer and closer. "Lokiiii!" The closer it came, the smaller it got, which left you even more confused. But you soon noticed, that it actually wasn't a star... It was something different... Something shiny... You watched with awe, as the 'star' flew straight into Loki's opened palm. It was a... ring with a shining green emerald on top? You had been so utterly fascinated by the spectacle above you, that you didn't recognise that your boyfriend had gotten on one knee beside you, neither that he was dressed in an all-black suit now. Your brain tried to process what was happening and when you had connected the dots, your eyes widened... A ring. Loki, wearing a suit, kneeling in front of you. This was a proposal.

Your smile even widened as the song led you down memory lane; causing you to experience Loki's proposal all over again.

Loki smiled softly and gave your hand a gentle squeeze. "That was the start of everything... We talked a lot, met up in the library to read together, went on dates and at some point... You just kissed me. The rest is history. I had never been happier in my life, than I am with you now. I spent my whole life searching for a meaning - a glorious purpose... And then I realised, that you are what I was always searching for. You are my glorious purpose, Y/N. You showed me a whole new world. A world filled with love and kindness. You have given this new world to me and now I want to ask you, if you'd like to become my world..." The God took another deep breath, before he popped the question. "Y/N Y/L/N, would you do me the honour to make you entirely and for always mine? Will you marry me?"

You were sunken so deep in the song and the memories, that you didn't notice Loki entering the communal kitchen.

"Apologies, my love, I know I am late, but Rogers-" The god already rumbled out an apology, only to freeze in his motion as he realised a few seconds later that you were totally lost in your thoughts. He could tell. Must be some very good thoughts, Loki noted and decided to approach you gently.

He tiptoed over to the stove and kitchen counter; coming to stand behind you. Loki lurked over your shoulder; gazing from your smiling face down to the almost burnt caramel cream and back up to you. He hated to rip you out of your seemingly wonderful daydream, but he had to, right?

Slowly wrapping one arm around your waist, Loki lifted one shell of the headphones. "I apologise for interrupting your daydream, my love, but you should really keep on stirring this sugary treat."

His mouth so close to your ear; the hot breath leaving his lips and his deep, but gentle voice did the trick and ripped you out of your thoughts.

You flinched slightly; blinking rapidly, "Loki?" before your brain managed to caught up. "Oh shit!" You yelped up and quickly stirred the caramel cream, all the while reducing the heat.

Loki chuckled from behind you; wrapping both his arms around your waist and pulling you closer against his body. "Apologies, darling, but I just had to..." You sighed; blushing. "Thank you, babe... I-I, uh, got lost in my thoughts." Loki's chest vibrated with another chuckle, "I noticed." before he pressed a kiss against your neck. "What were you thinking about? You looked so happy."

The mere mention caused you to smile again. "You, of course." "Me?" "Mhh..." You manoeuvred the pot from the stove and turned in Loki's embrace. "Spotify decided to hit me with 'Can't Help Falling in Love' and well... Since our wedding is still yet to come, it took me to the very evening you proposed to me."

The god couldn't help but smile as well. He pressed his forehead against yours; thumbs caressing the clothed skin of your lower back. "I love to return to this memory of ours. I could swear that I still see the sparkle in your eyes. The beautiful look on your face when you said 'Yes' will be forever carved into my mind."

You nodded. "Just like I will never forget the way you asked the question. You in that suit, with the ring resting in your palm..." You quickly glanced at your hand, which was laying on Loki's shoulder; your engagement ring shining in the sun. "... and you down on your knee in front of me..."

Mischief suddenly twinkled in your fiancé's eyes, as the corners of his lips lifted. "You can have me down on my knees for you anytime, love." You gasped at his very ambiguous comment, "Lokiii!" and gently slapped his shoulder. "I was being so romantic and then you just pull it on the dirty side!" The god just giggled, "Apologies, my love, but I couldn't let this opportunity slip." and dipped his head to kiss you.

"No, but honestly, darling... I meant what I said. I love to return to this moment." You smiled; kissing him again.

"Remember when we told my parents?" Loki asked then after a short moment of silence. "Oh, yes, of course. Frigga was so happy..." Loki snorted out a small, happy laugh. "She cried of happiness." You nodded. "She did."

Another beat of silence passed.

"I can't wait to marry you, Prince Loki Laufeyson of Asgard."

Loki lifted a hand to softly cup your cheek. "And I can't wait to marry you, Y/N Y/L/N, queen of my heart." He gazed into your eyes; smiling, before he abruptly stepped out of your embrace. "But before I make you my wife, I'm going to help you bake those delicious cupcakes."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @jennyggggrrr @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @huntedmusicgardenn @brokenpoetliz @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @icytrickster17 @jaguarthecat @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @kimanne723 @smolvenger @lou12346789 @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @aagn360 @cakesandtom @lokisgoodgirl @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake (Continuing in the comments!)

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 9

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight.

Nine.  九

You wake up the next day certain you will be fired. But when the axe does not fall, you relax slightly, going about your tasks. It occurs to you that maybe you should leave–but you don’t really want to, and only part of that has to do with your fascination with Donaka himself. The coming weeks seem almost normal, and you begin to think that Mr. Mark decided to be a gentleman about it all, and pretend it never happened.

What a fool you are. 

Your first inkling of your idiocy comes when you are called into Mr. Mark’s office, after dinner, when usually you are hanging up your apron and calling it quits for the day. 

You approach his massive carved ebony desk with folded hands, feeling all for like a naughty school girl. Donaka Mark sits behind it, every bit the lord and master of the house. He has discarded his suit jacket, the top buttons of his black dress shirt undone, so handsome it hurts. His eyes are sharp as obsidian knives upon you, and a cold chill runs down your spine as you come to stand beside him, as he directs. 

That is when he produces the colorfully-covered journal you usually keep secreted in your underwear drawer, the little book dwarfed in his hands. Your heart does a swan dive–you hadn’t even realized it was missing. 

He does not seem amused. 

Maybe you can’t blame him. In that book, amidst your more pedestrian musings and accounts of your day, you have detailed every torrid little fantasy your rotten brain ever concocted about this man. Scorching alternate endings to all your encounters in which you were too smart, or too much of a coward to actually see through. Not to mention, the completely fictional bonus scenes too. It’s like an X rated love letter that rambles on for pages and pages and dear lord, it’s in his hands.

He throws the book down on his desk with a clap that makes you jump out of your skin. With narrowed eyes he looks up at you, his voice low and dangerous. "Care to explain this?"

Your mouth makes a perfect ‘o’ of surprise, your blood turning to ice in your veins. A flood of unbearable embarrassment washes through you, and you begin to shake like a leaf. Never in your life have you ever been so mortified, or, so angry, that he has that obviously private book in his hand. 

"How dare you read that?"

Rage flares in Donaka's dark eyes, the muscles in his jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth. 

"How dare I read this filth, written about me, in my house? I have every right."

You are quaking, tears in your eyes. The things you wrote about him in that diary...it’s not all filth. Some of it…is foolishly sweet. And he read it all.  Your chest feels like it's pressed in a vice. You feel like you want to throw up...or just die, there on the rug of his office, rather than speak to him further about this. A timely earthquake would be most appreciated; a fissure in the floor to jump into, quite ideal. 

Donaka takes in your reaction to his intrusion of your privacy with secret pleasure; he knows he's got you right where he wants you, completely at his mercy, humiliated and vulnerable.

He leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on your face, drinking in your misery. "I read every single word," he delights in telling you.

You look away, utterly unable to meet his eyes. "Congratulations, Sir," you rasp past the lump of sand in your throat.

Donaka can't help the cold smirk that appears on his face as he watches you look away, unable to meet his eyes. The way you address him as "sir" makes a shiver of satisfaction run down his spine.

“I've got to say, I'm impressed. I never would have guessed your imagination was so...vivid. You seem like such a nice girl.”

A shuddering breath escapes you. You’ve resisted him all this time, taking solace instead in writing in your journal. It was better that way. Safer. But this man is not the type to be satisfied with just words on a page. That's why...he runs a billion dollar corporation, and you...sweep floors.

Donaka watches your defeated gesture, savoring it like a fine dessert. 

“Just what did you intend to do with all this?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” you defend immediately. Dear god, you think. Please don’t let this man think I was planning a ‘Tell All’. 

“This is a lot of energy gone into nothing?” 

He doesn’t have to tell you. “It’s just…my journal. To clear my head.”

“Your journal. Of things that never actually happened?” It sounds pretty stupid when he puts it that way–you feel every pound of pressure he puts in that statement, and you think you really just might faint right there beside his desk. “Do you actually get satisfaction out of that?” He sounds genuinely curious.

You close your eyes, so you don’t have to look at his blazing dark stare boring into you as you nod.

“Just give it back, and you never have to see me again.”

He laughs at you, a cruel little chuckle that pierces you to the core. “No, this little treasure is never leaving this house. And you’re not going anywhere.” 

You can do nothing but shake your head, trembling in your very bones. 

“You’re brave in many ways, y/n,” he tells you, fingering the cover of your damning treatise on The Art of Being Creepy About Your Boss. “But in others? Such a coward.” 

It’s the understatement of the century, and you can’t stand it anymore. You turn on your heel to leave–and a grip like iron encircles your wrist, so tight the bones creak. You get your first real taste of how strong this man is, when he jerks you down into his lap like you are a ragdoll made of straw. A yip of a scream escapes you, as he manhandles you like he owns you.

You feel so small, enveloped by his massive frame, his long arms wrapped around you.

"Let's have story time, shall we?" he says with a wicked chuckle, cracking the journal to a random page, and he begins to read the explicit scene you wrote starring the two of you, against the bookshelves, in the library. You can feel his deep, baritone voice vibrating against your skin as he recites, his arm around your waist holding you tight, preventing you from escaping.

“The strength in his hands makes me weak, those veritable paws gripping my thighs and lifting me, the desperate fury of his kiss pressing me back into the shelves so hard there will be linear bruises imprinted upon my skin. Perhaps I will look upon the souvenir tomorrow with equal parts pride and horror, still unsure if I am a victim, or if I welcomed the beast’s ravishment with open arms. Both feel true. The lush wetness between my legs suggests the latter, and as he explores my center with those long, blunt fingers I embrace the prospect of my ruin, bewitched by his skillful touch… Sweetheart, I’m flattered!”

You are dying in your mortification, your face on fire, your every nerve ending aware of this man. You physically cannot stand it, going feral in his arms, squirming in his lap like a fish on a hook, desperate to get away from this hell of your own making. It’s like pushing on a steel wall; he does not give a millimeter up to you. 

"Forget travel writing, I think your calling is the x-rated romance novel," he congratulates you cruelly when you finally go still with exhaustion. And maybe it’s true–you can feel the bulge of his erection pressing into your behind, and fuck if despite your desperation, you start to ache between your thighs, your unhelpful lady parts casting their usual vote for what is undoubtedly a form of suicide.  

He leans closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Look how you’re trembling. You’ve tried to deny it all along, but you want me."

"I want you to let me go." You push at his muscle-corded arm around you again, fruitlessly. You haven’t resorted to nails or teeth yet–somehow, you suspect you would not like the result of such an escalation. 

Donaka's grip on you just tightens even more, squeezing the breath from you. “You know…something about reading this makes me think that’s not what you really want.” 

Suddenly he stands, dropping you on his desk hard, tossing the little book away so that he can use two hands to pin you down. You might have screamed, had it not knocked the breath out of you. "I liked your ideas about this desk," he growls, taking your mouth in a punishing kiss, pressing you down into the wooden surface with his full bodyweight, his slender hips wedged between your legs. He kisses you like he means to devour you whole, starting with your mouth. 

This. This is what you expected all along. 

"Please, Donaka–" you plead when you are allowed to draw a breath. But his fingers in your hair control your head, pulling your lips to his again. His kiss is fueled by a fierce, primal hunger, his tongue delving deep into your mouth, seeking and claiming every inch of you as his own. His free hand moves over your body, exploring and caressing every curve and contour, squeezing the soft meat of your bare thigh, sliding under your panties to cup your ass.

"I'm not angry that you wrote the words," he snarls against your cheek. "I'm angry that you dared to deny me, lying to my face while you wanted me all along." His eyes lock onto yours, his gaze intense. "Your charade ends tonight."

“But I–”

You whimper as he tugs at your hair, forcing you to meet his eyes again. "No more excuses, you little coward," he snarls. "Did you think you were going to tame me with a potato chip?”

"I wasn't playing with you," you protest, on the edge of tears. "I never meant to hurt you!" 

“Hurt me?” His tone is incredulous, but in that moment it dawns on you that that is indeed the root of his fury. He’d offered you sweetness, at least his version of it, such a rare and unheard of thing for him, damn near showing vulnerability–and you’d denied him. So now…you were getting the stick, and despite the flood of arousal between your legs, you weren’t really sure you liked it all that much. There were no straight lines with this man. Everything was a jagged edge, or a shade of grey. 

"You didn’t hurt me, you infuriated me,” he insists, his lips on your neck. “You knew what I wanted, what I needed, and yet you still dared deny me." He returns to your mouth, his lips hovering just above yours. "You wanted the thrill of bedding the bad man, but none of the blame. That’s fine, bunny. I’ll be your villain.”

At hearing that you renew your struggle, trying to worm out of his grasp.

Donaka's grip on you tightens even more as you writhe, his weight crushing the breath from you, his hips pinning you like a butterfly on a board. There truly is no escaping him like this.  “Give it up," he admonishes, his voice a low, dark rumble. "You wanted me to make you. I read all about it, and I’ll give it to you, sweetheart. I'm not letting you go. Fight me, I like it. Or submit, I like that too. Either way, you're mine tonight."

You’ve known all along that he is a dangerous enigma, and that was why you tried to exorcise your desire for him in words on a page, and not play with fire, not taunt the beast and offer him your tender flesh because you knew you would get bitten. 

But deep down...God, you’d wanted it anyway. You’d wanted to know, just once, what it would be like to bare your throat to a man like Donaka Mark, wondering if he might find you enticing enough, worthy enough, to kiss rather than kill simply because he could. 

“I hate you,” you hiss through your tears, but all you win is his dark laughter. 

“You wish that you hated me, baby. I read all about that too.” He kisses you again, almost tenderly this time, though his hold on you is still bruising. He kisses your cheeks, savoring the wet tracks of your tears. “Don't cry. I’m going to make your wicked little fantasies come true.” 

He kisses you, a deep, punishing lock of lips, and his hand disappears beneath your skirt. When he touches your soaking wet center he smiles against your mouth. You know it is not a nice smile, but still you moan as his thumb circles your clit confidently, as though he knows exactly how to handle you–as though you already belong to him. When he withdraws you watch with horror as he licks his thumb clean, his eyes all for you. 

“Tastes like little liar,” he sighs with narrowed eyes. “But we’re going to fix that.” 

You scream, when he savagely tears open the front of your dress, the black buttons flying to every corner of the room. He ducks to kiss your freshly bared skin, impatiently pulling down the cup of your bra, presenting your mounded flesh for his delectation. When his lips close on your nipple, his tongue flicking, you feel it simultaneously in your throbbing clit. An involuntary moan escapes you, and you know this is the beginning of the end.

“That’s my good girl,” he encourages between ravishing your sensitive flesh, his hips locked against yours. “Tell me all about it.”

“I do hate you.” 

He laughs, a short bark of mirth before kissing you again. You feel him reach down to work his buckle and buttons and zipper, taking himself out with one hand, the other still holding you down. He’s so impatient he simply pushes your panties to the side, his thick tip sinking past your entrance with embarrassingly little resistance, you’re so wet. He growls as he bullies himself inside, lost in the sensation of you, drunk on the heady high of triumph at last.

When you open your mouth to protest he makes the final thrust that fills you completely, tearing a sound from your throat instead that sounds suspiciously like enjoyment. Your head rocks back against the desk as your body adjusts to this delicious invasion.

This is bad. Very bad. But it feels so very good. 

He pauses for a moment to savor it, looking down at you with a smirk, and maybe you invent it out of desperation–but a smoldering warmth in his eyes.

You are so fucked.

“I just knew you’d have the sweetest little pussy.”

He kisses you, moaning in your mouth as he thrusts, losing himself as he wrecks you with his unfairly endowed cock. When his tip hits your cervix you flinch, your body still trying to get away, even while the rest of you has accepted the inevitable. “Too much?”

“Yes,” you hiss, still writhing beneath him.

“Be good then,” he warns you, his voice rough in your ear. “Or I’ll have to punish you.” 

He ducks to your breast again, his tongue wreaking havoc as his thumb slips between you, moving in time with his manhood stretching you to perfection, hitting just the right spot like he was made for you…

“Fuck,” you pant, out of frustration and need and worst of all…the knowledge of absolute defeat. 

You feel him smile against your skin, surrendering to pleasure while he works inside you once more. “Someone’s finally catching on…” 

You let out a growl…but you’re not fighting him anymore, your back arched as you strain for the release that is building in your hips, that maddening promise of euphoria coiled in your loins, the gratification you’ve craved from this man since day one. The tightening of your walls around him wins you another ragged groan, his forehead pressed to your breastbone as he concentrates on making you cum first. A part of you wishes he’d just get off and leave you alone–but he’s not going to do that. There’s no way in hell, you’re in his claws and so you might as well wring every little bit of enjoyment out of it that you can, before you meet your inevitable demise…

“Come on baby,” he coaxes. “Give me what’s mine. From now on, this is where your pleasure comes from, and I intend to keep your schedule full.” 

“This is not–becoming a thing,” you insist, short of breath, because it feels like he’s in your lungs.

He laughs at you, a wicked chuckle that raises your every hair follicle. “No? Do I have to keep you on the edge until you beg me for it, pretty girl? We could do this for days.”

Is it possible, to cum out of spite? You think it might be, as you wrap your legs around his narrow hips in a bid to control the timing of his thrusts. He lets you, caught up in the moment you start participating rather than fighting. You clench upon his perfect cock buried inside you, desperate to indulge yourself before he can torture you by withholding it. 

Your orgasm takes mercy on you, rising to the occasion valiantly. The rapture of it destroys you like a chain explosion, filling your loins before ripping up your spine, hitting so hard you arch and lift him from desk for a few, beautiful moments of ruin. He moans with you, fucking you hard as your needy, turncoat of a cunt milks him, sending him over the edge to spill inside you. He fills you with hot spurts of his essence, his powerful body locked against yours as though to make sure you get every drop. 

For a few long moments he collapses on you, his breathing heavy in the bend of your neck, his lips gentle behind your ear.

“Was that so terrible?” he asks you smugly, sitting up on his elbows to sweep the wisps of your sweat-plastered hair from your forehead. You close your eyes, lulled by the unexpected tenderness in his touch.

“I still hate you,” you sigh unconvincingly.

“Mmm hmm. I can tell. Are you on birth control?”

“Shouldn’t you have asked that beforehand?”

“Don’t be smart, just answer the question.”

You growl, winning that smirk that quickens your heart. He just thinks you’re cute, goddamn him.

“No, I’m not going bear your demon spawn,” you grumble with an eye roll.

“Hmm.” He smirks down at you, his eyes sweeping your face, then lower, and for a terrifying moment you can’t tell if he’s pleased by your preparedness, or contemplating the thought of filling you with his child. The latter scares you more than anything else he’s done so far tonight.

Spitefully you muse, “I kinda wish I had a venereal disease to give you though.” 

Now he narrows his eyes. “Very funny.”

“You’ll find out, I guess...”

He puts his hand over your mouth; it's so big it envelopes the whole lower half of your face.

“Let’s have silence now.” You glare–and you lick his hand, though you don’t make a sound. He looks at it with a frown, then wipes it on your cheek.

“Come on.” He withdraws, righting himself, then you, papers fluttering to the ground as you make your dismount from the desk. Whatever he was working on is surely ruined by sweat…and other bodily fluids. He doesn’t seem to care, for the smug way he smiles at you. 

You might have fallen, if not for his strong arm steadying your shaking limbs. He gives you a moment to find your legs, and as you rest against the solid warmth of his chest, enveloped by the spice of his cologne, you are consumed by the warring urges to kiss him and to hit him. This man. This man could prove to be the death of you through confusion alone. 

He tilts your face up to his, surprisingly gentle now. It’s hard to believe this is the same man from five minutes ago, when he presses his lips to yours. 

You try to button your dress, but it's a lost cause. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because he is pulling you away, towards the door. In the hallway you try to break off in the direction of your room, but he snorts at you, guiding you in the opposite direction with a hand on the back of your neck. 

“I’m not done with you yet, bunny…”

“Donaka…” You only narrowly resist the urge to sob. “You won. Just let me go…” All you want to do is be alone to lick your wounds, and reflect on what the fuck just happened to you. Your thoughts are a complete jumble; you are a walking well-fucked vessel filled with shame and confusion and you hate to admit–total gratification.  It all went by so fast and maybe deep down you wanted it but he just took you and you– 

As though he knows you are trying to pick all this apart and doesn’t intend to give you the chance, Donaka jerks you to him, pulling you into a punishing kiss that melts your bones all over again. You make a small, kittenish sound that betrays your begrudging enjoyment. You swear you feel his smug satisfaction emanating from his pores.

“Don’t you get it yet?” he asks you darkly, a dangerous sparkle in his midnight black eyes. “You’re mine now.”

[showmey0urfangs]

Louis' hypocrisy and cognitive dissonance

Oh boy, where to start? Episode 5 gave me a lot to think about. I find show Loumand fascinating™ though I have my (many) gripes with how the show chose to go about them. They have a very interesting dynamic that I think warrants exploring further.

When Louis first arrives in Paris, Armand tries to seduce him with a carefully crafted veneer of the all-powerful coven master. He seeks to impress Louis by playing up his mysterious allure and power. Though Louis is obviously attracted to him, he is very reluctant to take things further, and he insists that the relationship has to be on his terms. “If you want me I'm here.”

Louis is adamant that he doesn't want to be caught in yet another toxic dynamic like the one he had with Lestat. He no longer wants to be in a relationship where he is vastly outmatched and overpowered. The power imbalance is in great part why Louis hesitates to go all the way with Armand, sticking to casual meaningless sexual encounters (none of which we got to see on screen, thank AMCee!) but refusing to acknowledge Armand publicly. Ouch!

We see this dynamic shift in episode 4, when Armand finally manages to reassure Louis that he is “not Lestat”. He does this by allowing himself to be vulnerable with Louis and opening up about his traumatic past—something that Lestat rarely did. He also willingly cedes his power to Louis, allowing Louis to be his “master” and to take full control of their relationship.

This dynamic continues on until present day Dubai, where Armand is utterly deferential to Louis and seems to exist only to serve Louis and see to his every need, even if that means agreeing to things that he does not want to do (like sitting down for an interview with the same guy that nearly ruined their relationship 50 years ago and who has come back to finish what he started. We stan #homewreckerDaniel).

Armand essentially moulded himself to become what Louis told him he wanted in a partner; someone gentle, non-threatening, loving and devoted to the point of being obsequious. Someone who acquiesced to all of Louis' desires, even the most destructive ones. Armand is so desperate for love and acceptance that he will go to diabolical lengths and sink to the most humiliating depth to have it. And Louis knows this; “my daddy vampire groomed you into a little bitch.”

So imagine Armand's shock and horror when in episode 5, a drug-addled Louis tells him he is boring, colourless, flavourless, a beige pillow, so dull and insignificant that a mere human boy that Louis has only known for a few hours is more interesting than him. Louis admits he looks down on Armand for surrendering his power, mocking him for the fact that he is willing to lick Louis' boots, clean after him, and wait for him patiently as Louis goes out to seek excitement in the arms of “low lives, unfortunate and broken children.”

Louis signifies to Armand in all possible ways that what he truly craves is the chaos and the violent passion that Lestat offers. He is bored with Armand's “prison of empathy” to the point that he'd rather yeet himself into the sun than endure it for another second. Armand of course tries to patch things up with a quick mind wipe and restart, but the damage is already done.

The truth is that Louis never wanted a meek subservient partner. He never wanted a love that was easily won. What attracted him to Armand was his power and his capacity for destruction. Louis loves to tame monsters because he is one himself. He loves the thrill of danger and the excitement that comes from the uncertainty. He loves the chase and the loud vicious fights that end in heated makeup sex.

The problem is that Louis does not want to admit that to himself. He probably would have never admitted it to Armand either in his right mind—in vino coke and quaaludes veritas est. The person Louis is and the person he thinks he needs to be are completely at odds. What he thinks he should want vs what he actually wants are contradictory.

Because of this, Louis exists in a state of perpetual cognitive dissonance. He represses his desires in order to strive for some unattainable self-imposed moral ideal. He loves Claudia and wants to be a good father brother to her, but a selfish part of him sees her as a burden and knows making her was a mistake. This is something he verbalizes in many instances this season, consistently and subconsciously; Was she worth it? Speaking of poor decisions, The wilderness that is our daughter, Imagine me without the burden of her. He desperately wants to connect to his humanity and be better than the other vampires that he judges as sadistic and slave to their baser instincts, but he too inevitably succumbs to his bloodlust and often kills more recklessly and viciously than any other vampire. He tells himself that Lestat is the wrong kind of love, but he is irresistibly drawn to him and still hasn't moved 80 fucking years later.

You can chalk this up to good ol' catholic guilt, or to growing up with a shitty mother who made him feel like he would never be good enough no matter how hard he tried, in a society where he has to juggle several masks just to survive. Either way, it always results in Louis being torn between his desires and his guilt for failing to live up to the version of himself he thinks he needs to be.

IDK what the point of this essay was other than to say that ultimately Louis and Lestat deserve each other and Armand needs to stand the fuck up and stop simping for a man who obviously does not want him. Come be with me pookie, I will treat you so much better. 💖

That's all. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 😊

[olderthannetfic]

I'm fucking howling. You see (of course you do, this blog had this conversation days ago) how some people over fandom say they, not exactly hate, more like "do not prefer" even if the reasons for "not prefering" are weak as fuck, first person narration. Well, (general) you just need to go to booktok and see how many people "cannot read" books in third person because Potato. It's just so fucking funny. The person (because there's a person wating to be attached to the most laughable thing, they need to) who made the TikTok made an exaggerated face like they don't understand the POV and close the book looking utterly disappointed, completing the acting with a smack in the forehead. But the comments are the best of the best because there's only like a whole of three users saying "third person is the worst" and the others are like "you can't be serious, right".

But the comments that got me thinking were two:

"I really can't understand 3rd person books 😭 I feel lost and confused from the beginning to the end" How? How is third person more "confusing"? Some people said that was a "English not being my first language" but, um... No, I don't think so. Like, my ass is ESL. Unless your school and-or your self-learning had been horrendously bad with the structure of how to learn the English language, this doesn't make sense. (Also, I bet in many schools you have to read third person in many texts when you're learning your own language.) The issue seems to be other one completely.

"If it's not in first person, I can't connect with the character 😭." Aha! Now this is a skill issue, lol. Like, TV shows and movies are not in "first person" either and people still connect with the characters just fine? For what I have seen, is not that these people "can't connect" with the character, is because they can't project into the character. The main protag is not a character, is supposed to be you, and in third person you can't do it, supposedly. The protag is no longer, well, a tool to move the story foward, is you. And if it's in third person then isn't you anymore. Which, yeah, I fall this under the "skill issue" category.

TBH seeing this was truly fascinating after so many "I can't stand first person in fanfic!", kinda refreshing.

--

[avelera]

I just realized that I think I have a consistent headcanon across all my fics that like... Dream and Hob are a good match, once Dream gets past all his preconceptions around Hob. BUT, if Hob REALLY wanted Dream to go feral for him right away, all he'd have to do is be in a situation where DREAM needs to take care of HOB.

Like so much hurt/comfort focuses on post-fishbowl Dream but I think Dream would HATE THAT, truly. Does he need it? YES. And I think if they got to a place of trust, Dream WOULD open up to Hob taking care of him and he WOULD be better off for it.

Does Dream want it? NO. Does he NEED it? Probably yes!

Because the first MOMENT we see a spark of real fascination from Dream? It's 1689, when Hob is at his lowest! One of the few sparks we get before that? 1489 when Hob is being all wide-eyed and innocent. Even 1389, when does Dream smile? When in his mind, Hob is utterly fucked by the wager he just agreed to. Dream has this little smile of "Oh boy this guy does NOT know what he's in for!" and he does, in both 1389 and 1489, for a moment, seem charmed by Hob's naïveté.

1789? Dream is VERY turned on by Hob coming to his defense, yes, but ALSO Dream's hungry look follows Dream using the sand in Hob's defense, AND the moment the look he gives Hob becomes truly feral is when Hob concedes that Dream really didn't NEED his help, when Hob acknowledges Dream's strength with that, "Clearly."

And what's the next thing Dream does? Take care of Hob by sacrificing short term attraction between them for Hob's long-term safety.

When does Dream freakout in 1889? When Hob tries to take care of him. Dream does NOT want Hob's comfort or his thoughts on Dream's loneliness!

When does Dream look closest to heart-eyes in 1889? When Hob looks sad at the thought he'll never truly grow or change or become better!

Dream lunges to take care of Hob in 1889 and prop him up in that moment. He looks so warmed by the prospect of being able to cheer Hob up but he immediately shuts down when Hob tries to return the favor.

So, all I'm saying is... if Hob really wanted to reel Dream in, he'd conspire to need to be rescued, or get sick and be nursed back to health, or SOMETHING that lets Dream be the caretaker. Because CLEARLY the thing driving Dream away for so much of their relationship is any time Hob is brash and loud and cheerfully self-sufficient.

Dream is a mess himself. He doesn't NEED a reminder that for all his power, his personal life is a mess. He's a KING, he wants dignity and respect. And Hob, a COMMONER, is showing himself more resilient to immortality than Dream of the Endless is.

But when does Dream suddenly see Hob as more than just a task he's been assigned? When he gets to see the moments where Hob struggles, when things aren't working out for him.

I would argue, it's because that's then Dream doesn't feel like such shit about himself around Hob. And more to the point, Dream's job is to take care of the dreamers. Hob is a dreamer. Dream feels good when he can take care of another person.

And this is why they are both acts-of-service bitches doing an absolutely terrible job communicating this to one another for the first 600 years of their friendship. In this essay, I will....

[anxresi]

They're absolutely right...

...It's the writers that deserve the lion's share of the backlash, for poor, innocent, boring-as-hell Zoe is merely a tool of the oppressor, aka Mr Astruc. What's being oppressed, you may well ask? Well, interesting storylines, proper continuity, two-dimensional personalities... I could go on. Everything that makes a show compulsive and rewarding viewing that Miraculous Ladybug conspicuously and utterly lacks in every department due to his increasingly destructive machinations, basically.

This pink-streaked plot device masquerading as a serious character can (along with another equally pointless individual called 'Soquerline' who was so unmemorable I almost forgot she was ever a thing) exists for one reason and one reason only: to diminish Chloe's relevance and role in the show to the sum of precisely nothing. Well after S5, job done I guess guys. Well done. Well done indeed. (Although apparently not... they're bringing Miss Bourgeois back for more torture in the London 'special'. Guess Tommy Boy just can't keep away from his favorite punching bag, can he?)

The irony is though, having such a super-sweet but dull-as-ditchwater Mary Sue to replace a well-established and multi-layered person such as Chloe actually sends out a seriously awful message. Why? Because if I was a bad kid and saw S1-3 Chloe, I'd think 'what a fascinating redemption arc, I can inspired by that and do better.' But after seeing S4-5 Chloe and what an arguable downgrade as a replacement the incredibly tedious Zoe is, I'd be more like 'well, obviously there's no point in trying to be good, because you'll probably turn into a psychopath overnight with no explanation in the middle of your genuine efforts to improve. And if what the show is presenting to me as the ideal for a teenage girl to be is the waste-of-blank-space that Zoe clearly is... then a life of deliquency sounds more tempting with every passing minute! Now, where did I put my spray can?'

The most shameless aspect to this whole argument though, is by those trying to paint the hapless Zoe as some kind of lesbian icon. Pardon? She got a plot-mandated crush on Marinette in one episode and somehow that makes her insipid and needless presence an asset for the gay community? Somehow a few people have got it into their heads if you 'dare' to make someone non-straight in cartoons these days you deserve a big pat on the back for that 'risk' alone. WRONG. They should also be fleshed-out, complex, necessary characters whose sexuality isn't just define them or deflect from deserved criticism as to what the hell they are doing there if they turn up in the middle of proceedings with no prior explanation. See: The Owl House for how it's done.

And that's all Zoe being gay is... an irrelevant trait Mr Astruc can point to cynically and say ' you're a bigot for disliking her whatever your reasons are, so I'm not listening to you' instead of engaging with the actual argument which is SHE IS NOT AND WAS NEVER NEEDED IN THE SHOW. Everything you required to make Chloe the brilliant character she could've been was RIGHT THERE in the script but you CHOSE to rub it all out and scrawl some hastily scribbled doodle with no personality other than being 'very nice' in her place. A tragedy. The worst case of self-vandalism I've ever seen. No wonder Jeremy Zag wants to start from scratch with his rebooted movies. More power to him, IMHO.

Needless to say, nearly all the above in the quoted post about her father loving her (we haven't met him yet, it's DEFINITELY not Andre Bourgeois, his name ends in 'Lee' for a start) her supposed growth (the only 'growth' she's had is when she turned into that giant golden Chloe after being akumatized) her alleged pansexuality (all in the desperate mind of the OP) her 'abusive' family (I think you'll find Chloe had it FAR WORSE over the course of the show in that regard, so why not idolise her?) is complete bunkum. and to be frank I couldn't compose a much delusional post if I tried. Sometimes I wonder: what planet are some people on to reach such implausible conclusions? I don't understand it, I'll never understand it and quite frankly I feel quite sorry for the arbiters of such risibly deluded takes.

Last but not least though, we have...

Now this I ALSO agree with 1000%. And I know just the place to 'flush' her... ;)

[moonstruckme]

could you write steve harrington x reader x eddie munson?

something like, Eddie invited Steve to see his band playing at a bar and during the presentation Steve starts to flirt with the reader cause he thinks she's the most gorgeous girl ever, and hes actually happy cause she is flirting back, and when the show ends Eddie gets to them and he is like "yeah shes my girlfriend but don't worry we like to share"

Hi, thanks so much for your request! This got a bit long, but I hope you like it :)

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Steve knows that, in theory, he's supposed to be here for Eddie. And Eddie is good, commanding the attention of the entire bar, the colored lights seeming to shine more brightly upon him. It's unfair to his bandmates, really, but Eddie's just like that. Has been from the first time Steve met him, and he's grown more fascinated with the other man each day since.

It's part of why, when Eddie had asked Steve and no one else to come to his show that night, Steve hadn't hesitated before cancelling his plans with Robin. But now that he's here, he finds his attention unwillfully divided between the bright, shining star on the stage and the girl beneath it, glowing softly like the moon.

It seems like every bit of light that catches Eddie refracts back onto you, and you beam up at him, clearly enamored. Steve knows the feeling. Maybe it's that kinship that drives him towards you, maybe it's something else, but Steve finds himself drifting through the crowd, letting himself be bashed around by overenthusastic moshers, until he's beside you.

"Do you know their stuff?" he shouts over the music, jerking his chin towards the band.

You smile, eyes roaming his face appreciatively, and Steve's mouth goes utterly dry. He didn't begrudge you the attention you were bestowing upon Eddie, but having it directed at him is something different entirely. Steve wonders if he's never been properly looked at in his life, if this is what it's supposed to feel like.

"I do!" Your enthusiasm is adorable, and Steve finds himself grinning back at you as if in a trance. "I go to all of their shows. Is this your first one?"

"Yeah," Steve says, debating whether to tell you he knows someone in the band. What if you want him to introduce you to Eddie? He's not sure if he could stand watching as the two most gorgeous people he's ever seen get together right in front of him; Steve's too selfish for that.

He's saved from his moral dilemma when you nod cheerfully, as if Steve's just given more than a bland, one-word response. "Yeah, didn't think I'd seen you here before. Whaddya think?"

This, he can answer with complete honesty. "I really like it. They're awesome." Some of them more of others, in Steve's opinion. But he might be biased.

You look downright jubilant at his answer, and Steve's happy to have something in common with you. "Aren't they?" you yell back, still bopping your head to the rhythm even as you devote most of your attention to Steve. Eddie starts on a guitar solo, and you both abandon your conversation to watch, whooping above the roar of the crowd, and when Eddie grins, Steve's not sure which one of you it's directed at. Once the chorus starts again, you grab at Steve's collar, pulling him closer so you can yell in his ear. He's eager to oblige you. "You should come to more shows, if you can. I'd love to have someone to hang out with."

Steve hopes the lighting is camoflaging his blush, but there's no hiding the beaming grin that comes to his face at what he hopes you're implying. "Sounds good to me," he yells back, taking the opportunity to put his hand in your hair under the premise of gaining easier access to your ear. "Actually, I'm really thirsty. Come to the bar with me for a drink? I'll buy."

You agree without any further persuasion, and while neither of you ever takes your attention completely off the band, you spend the rest of the set chatting at the bar. By the time Eddie hops down from the stage, your hands are joined on the bartop, and you're running your thumb along Steve's knuckle flirtatiously. Eddie heads straight for the two of you and Steve wilts slightly, knowing the jig is up, but when Eddie grins at him, he can't help but smile back. It's an automatic response.

"Hey," Eddie greets him, before his eyes find you. "Hi, sweet thing." He wraps an arm around your shoulders, and your cheek dimples where he kisses it. "Did you have fun?"

You hum in happy affirmation. "I met Steve."

Eddie chuckles. "Yeah, I can see that, baby." His gaze falls on Steve, who's busy wishing a sinkhole would open under his seat and swallow him up. "I was gonna introduce you to my girlfriend after the show, but it seems like you found each other without me."

"Your girlfriend," Steve repeats dazedly. He looks between the two of you, waiting for someone to be offended. Should it be him? You were flirting with him too, or had he misread everything? There was no way Eddie didn't see your hands atop the bar, fingers intertwined. "I—I'm sorry, I didn't know you guys were together. I wouldn't've—"

"Shit, relax, Harrington," Eddie laughs, and now Steve's definitely offended. How could he have thought Eddie liked him, when he would laugh at Steve's humiliation like this? "My bad, I should've explained. Y/N is my girlfriend, but we're not...exclusionary."

Steve says nothing, letting his flabberghasted expression speak for him.

"I was sort of hoping you guys would hit it off tonight. We're into sharing," Eddie says it casually, as if its not the most surprising and objectively the best news Steve has heard in his entire life.

"Wait." Steve wants to be sure he has this right. "So you," he looks at Eddie, grinning smugly as he watches Steve put it together, "and you," he turns to you, gazing at him with kind, hopeful eyes, "are in a relationship, but you want...me, to be in your relationship too?"

"If you want to," you say softly, squeezing Steve's hand. "Eddie's been campaigning for this for weeks, and after tonight, I'm pretty sold on the idea too." You laugh a little, and Steve realizes, for the first time, that you're nervous.

"Yeah." Steve's palm is sweaty against yours, but the answer comes to him easily. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Great." Eddie doesn't seem surprised, necessarily, but his smile is giant and goofy, and you seem equally thrilled. "Then how about I order us some more drinks?"

Steve's only had one tonight, but as Eddie slings his other arm around his shoulder, wrapping the three of you in a loose hug, he feels plenty drunk already.

[alisa-nyx]

A Stitch in Time

Suzuya Juuzou x Reader

Content/Warnings: sfw, fem!reader, fluff, meet-cute, embroidery, slight blood mention.

Words: 1k

Synopsis: When the café is empty you can't help but work on one of you embroidery projects. What you don't expect is for a random, and rather cute, customer to appear and take interest in your embroidery.

A/N: Suzuya is one of my favourite characters in Tokyo Ghoul and the fact that there aren't many fics for him is breaking my heart. Also I don't know how alive the fandom is (since I'm new to it) but here we go!

The café is utterly empty except for you. Soft instrumental music playing in the background as you stay behind the counter, just in case of a customer appearing. Not like you are paying much attention to your surroundings as you are working on one of your embroidery projects, improving a simple black tank top you got some time ago. Making it more… you. And embroidery was your thing. You started a few years ago after seeing some videos online and got absolutely fascinated with it. The way you can make beautiful art with just a needle and thread, it's… It's just beautiful. Of course the first tries and the little practice projects you've done always ended with bloody fingers at how many times you pricked them with the needle. But every time you got better at it. And now you're not even stabbing your fingers anymore. Getting more confident in your work-craft that even the apron you are wearing at the moment has flowers embroidered on it.

That being said, you are so focused on your work that you don't even notice when the café's door opens, the needle in your hand being the only thing you can see, the music the only thing you hear.

"Hello?" startled you look up at the person and prick your finger as you were mid-stitch. 

"Ouch!" you whine before putting the project aside, remembering you are at work and have to do your actual job. "Ah, sorry! What can I get for you?" you ask, smiling at the dark-haired boy who only looks at you curiously. You can't help but notice the little red… tattoos…? Under his eye and lip. There's no way that's thread, no? 

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurt," he asks, looking at your hurt finger where a bead of blood already started forming. You only shrug, continuing to smile as you answer him.

"I'm fine, it's just a little prick anyway," getting a napkin you fastly wrap it around your index finger to hide it away. "So… What can I get for you today?" you repeated but the boy seemed more interested in what you were working on before, actually leaning over the counter to look at your half-embroidered tank top then he looked up at you again, more so at your apron.

"Hey, are you the one who did the flowers on your apron?" he suddenly asks, shifting to face you, his big red eyes full of curiosity and wonder. A little too close for your liking and making you flush just the tiniest bit.

"Yea—Yeah. Why?" 

"I like them! Your stitches are very precise. You must have a lot of practice." he states smiling, and that somewhat takes you off guard. In the six months you worked at this café no one has ever complimented your work. Or even noticed that you are the only waitress with a different apron.

"Oh, thank you," you genuinely thank him, deciding there's no harm in entertaining him for a while. You two are the only ones here anyway. "Do you like embroidery?" the boy's smile widens, the gesture pulling at the red lines under his lip that you are starting to think are actual pieces of thread stitched into his skin.

"Yes, something like that! I love sewing and stitching! See!" he excitedly says lifting his right arm to show you the stitches on it. And only then do you also finally notice 'x's on his neck. You freeze, slightly off put by the display, and shiver at the thought of needle puncturing skin. How can you do that to yourself? Is the first question going through your mind. Then: do they hurt? Of course, they hurt idiot… But are they still hurting after healing? Are they like tattoos or piercings? Paining you when they are done but after healing you don't even know they are there? The boy's smile slowly fades away at your stupefied gaze. 

"You're—"

"Do they hurt?" you blurt out before he can continue, your eyes roaming over the red thread on his arm.

"Not really," he states. "Tho I'm kinda insensitive to pain." 

You nod, slowly processing what he just said. "You sure do love stitching." just like you love embroidery. You can somewhat understand him, though you could never do that to yourself.

"Mhm. Just like you do embroidery." he hums approvingly, seeing how your face shifts from concerned to gentle. And just like that his smile returns. "What were you working on?" and his curiosity too. You couldn't help the little chuckle that escaped you.

"Just adding my touch to a tank top," you say glancing at the tambour hoop holding the fabric in place. "Do you wanna see?" 

His eyes practically sparkle at your question, an immediate "yes!" following. 

You laugh again, revealing the half-finished piece of a white snake coiled around a golden crescent moon, little stars sprinkled around.

"Wow!" the boy exclaims, leaning closer to take in every detail. "It's beautiful! The details are amazing. How do you get the stitches so precise?" you slightly flush at the compliment, smiling wider as his enthusiasm rubs on you.

"With lots of practice and patience," you answer while he still analyzes your work.

"I'd love to learn how to do that!" and you find yourself laughing once again. 

"I could teach you if you want." you offer in the heat of the moment, deciding that you like the boy and wouldn't mind spending more time with him.

"Really!?" the sparkles returned to his eyes that are now solemnly focused on you. "I'd love that! When can we start?" 

"Whenever you want. We could do it here after I finish my shift or on breaks. This week I'm on the early one and next week on the afternoon shift," you say and he nods excitedly.

"It's a deal!" he says thrusting his hand forward and you shake it while chuckling, putting the embroidery away.

"Deal," you confirm smiling. "By the way, I'm Y/N Y/L," you say totally aware of the nameplate on your chest but you still want to present yourself appropriately.

"Juuzou Suzuya!" he says, pulling his arm back.

"Nice to meet you, Suzuya!" you say, still smiling.

"Likewise Y/N!"

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 37: Alexander's Housekeeper

Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, mentions of abuse and murder

Just as Oliver had feared on his first night, it was far too easy to get used to living in a vampire's manor.

He'd spent the past few nights utterly engrossed in the books Alexander had picked out for him, primers on the supernatural world and its history. Oliver had always had a fascination for material like this, for horror stories and medieval descriptions of witchcraft and pictures of fairies at the bottoms of gardens, but he'd logically seen it all as just entertaining curiosities. Now he wanted to devour everything related to the strange new world he'd found himself in.

Naturally, he was focusing on information about vampires -- their strengths and weaknesses, their culture and habits. He learned that only blood taken fresh from live humans could truly sustain them -- bottled blood of the sort found in his master's icebox was at best a temporary salve to hunger, and animal blood did very little. It also was clear that very few vampires held moral objections to taking thralls. At least according to the vampiric author of the book he was reading, any vampire of means would have a handful of them in the household, usually taking the roles of servants and pets.

He remembered what Alexander had said in the auction house, that it had been months since he'd had a fresh human. If he were speaking the truth, he must have been starving and weak. That did track -- he had looked so utterly exhausted and spent when Oliver had arrived, and acted so much like a starving man when he'd fed. And now that he had fed, he was very obviously healthier and in better spirits.

The strange part was that a vampire that clearly had so much wealth went so long without sufficient blood.  His master had remarked several times now that he hadn't been prepared to take a thrall, and that Oliver's situation had forced his hand. Why not, though? If moral considerations and money were clearly no object, what reason did he have for depriving himself? Given his power, why hadn't he taken Oliver from his bookshop the moment he decided he wanted him?

And what had happened to his previous thralls?

Perhaps he might get a chance to ask his master himself.

"Well, now, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

Oliver whipped around to see a complete stranger, a curly-haired man with a dusty blouse and a curious expression. He was grinning and baring her fangs. Oliver's heart raced -- what was another vampire doing here? Did his master know? He must, or so Oliver hoped, but he couldn't help but shrink himself against the shelves in fear.

"What a rich morsel Lord Alexander's found. Not every day I come across a thrall like you," he said, putting an arm on the shelves next to Oliver, blocking his means of escape. "Wonder if the lord of the house would mind me taking a taste."

"Please don't, sir," he said. Being fed on by his master was one thing, being fed on by a strange vampire with unknown intentions was quite another. "I think my Master -- I don't think you should --"

He laughed, loud and long, and backed off. "You know I'm just yanking your chain, right? I'm not going to eat you. Lord Alexander would fire me on the spot, if he didn't ram a stake straight through my heart."

Oliver let out his anxious breath as he remembered who this person must be, the vampire housekeeper that Alexander had mentioned. "So -- you're not going to --"

"I'm Kenny. I keep the place tidy and do the lord's laundry and such. And it looks like I'll be cleaning up for his pretty little thrall, now," he said, and Oliver wasn't sure how he felt about that designation. "Honestly, it's about time he got a new one. Whoever heard of a vampire lord who doesn't have any thrall? I think he was even drinking bottled blood."

"That's... bad, right, sir?"

"I mean... I drink bottled blood a lot, yeah, but that's because I've only been a vampire for a few years and I'm poor as dirt. Can't afford a fancy thrall, too much of a coward to go get my own and risk hunters. At least bottled blood sates the urge for a little bit," he said. "If I were a rich lord, I'd have a whole mansion full of thralls at my beck and call. A different flavor of blood for every day of the week, and they'd all be attractive, too."

"So do you know what happened to Master's last thrall, sir?" Oliver asked, before Kenny lost himself in his fantasy world, seizing on the opportunity to get some of his questions answered.

"Oh, yeah, Henry? Awful thing. Got killed by a jealous vampire, from what I heard." He leaned in a little too close to Oliver. "I assume that vampire's dead now. Lord Alexander's not a vampire I'd like to cross. Not a bad boss, though."

"How long have you --"

"I see you've met my new thrall," said a deep voice from behind Kenny.  "I hope you understand that his blood is not part of your compensation."

Alexander was barely taller than Kenny, and significantly scrawnier, but Kenny still was immediately cowed. "I'm not harming a hair on his delicious little head, sir," he said, bowing meekly. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"See that you don't. And refrain from terrorizing him as well, in the future."

"Yes, sir."

"And make sure you do a thorough job of cleaning the main bed and bath on the second floor from now on, and do any laundry left out for you. I won't have my thrall living in squalor."

"Yes, sir, understood."

"...I'll increase your pay, to compensate for the additional time."

"Oh, thank you, sir," said Kenny, his face lighting up. "Between rent and saving up for a thrall of my own, I can always use the money. I'll go clean the new thrall's quarters right away, sir." 

He scurried away, and Alexander fell sideways into an overstuffed leather couch. "Are you doing well this evening, Oliver?"

Any of Oliver's unease melted away in his master's comforting presence. "I feel very well, sir. How are you? Is there any way I can be of service?" 

His master's smile was relaxed, and he looked so much more at ease than Oliver had ever remembered, even when he was patronizing the bookshop. "Not at all, you're doing quite enough, and I hate to interrupt your reading," he said. "But if you don't mind, I would appreciate your company by the fire. The nights are starting to grow chill, and it's quite agreeable to have one's thrall near."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver eagerly, sitting next to Alexander on the couch, and feeling a soft thrill as his master beckoned him closer, close enough that they were brushing up against each other. His master gently pet his hair before cracking open a book and settling in to read.

Oliver picked up his own book, relaxing with the warm fire and the proximity of his master. A perfect scene of contentment. 

Except for the one thing that had been worrying him and stealing his focus...

His master did seem like he was in a good mood. This might be a good time to press him.

"Excuse me, sir," said Oliver, "I don't mean to interrupt your reading, but could I ask you a question?"

Alexander's eyebrows raised, and the look on his face suggested that Oliver's request was about to be denied. "Very well," he said, after a long moment. "But I might advise against asking questions if you suspect you won't like the answers."

Oliver felt a small twist, a spark. "With all respect, Master, I prefer to know the truth regardless."

"That's admirable. Truly," said Alexander, looking surprised. "Lily really did do a fine job with you -- I appreciate that you can push back. I've been lacking that, lately. Too far up in my own head. She'd put it in much more vulgar terms, of course." He sat up. "Ask, then, but understand that many things are better kept private."

Oliver felt relieved that they had an understanding of sorts. "What happened to your last thrall, sir?" he said bluntly.

Alexander let out a sharp laugh. "Of course that's the first thing you'd ask. I can't say I blame you. I'd want to know the same in your shoes." He sat in silent thought for a moment. "He was killed by a vampire."

His heart pounded. "Why, sir?"

"It was the doing of my sire. Most of the misfortune that befalls me is," Alexander said. "I haven't been eager to have this conversation, but you should know about him."

Despite his curiosity, Oliver was getting the feeling once more that he was in over his head.

Previous >> Masterlist >> Next

The Bookseller parts have been getting longer and longer, so I've been splitting them up so I can return to a more regular posting schedule. 1-2K words a week was possible, 3-4K words a week was pushing it. Hopefully I'll be able to post a part a week along with asks and side stories!

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader

[gabessquishytum]

SO I JUST RECEIVED THIS AD ON TUMBLR:

and now I'm thinking about how omega Hob is now of proper mating age (18-20, whatever floats your boat) and now he must participate in The Hunt.

The Hunt being a 24 hour event where alphas hunt for an omega mate by scent and skill alone. Wearing said outfit, ofc 😉

Hob's a smart omega, he's been prepping for The Hunt his entire life. Some omegas are happy to be caught by the first alpha who wants them, but not Hob. Hob wants a mate he can be feisty with, a mate who will really go the extra distance to chase and try to tame him. His fellow omegas think that's just asking for a mean and cruel alpha but Hob disagrees.

Enter Dream. Dream has been on many Hunts, but either he's never found a omega that smells right to him (or if you'd like angst, his previous mates didn't work out). But Hob. Dream smells Hob as soon as he steps onto the Hunting Grounds and he goes feral. He has no idea who this omega is or what they look like but he. will. have. them. He will murder his fellow alphas if he must.

Hob doesn't make it easy for Dream. They nearly tear apart the entire area with how ferociously Dream chases after Hob and how hard Hob fights not to be claimed. There's fallen trees, torn up grass, a few smashed rocks, destroyed flower beds, you name it. Long after everyone else has mated and gone home, Dream's still chasing Hob with just as much energy as he had the beginning of the hunt.

Finally, in the dead of night, Dream gets Hob pinned down, leashes him, then claims him. It's loud and messy and everyone else thinks Dream's murdering the poor omega but Hob is having a fantastic time.

OH YEAH IM EATING THIS. Absolutely love a completely unhinged tumblr ad by the way.

I can imagine Hob really enjoying/looking forward to these hunts. For an omega he's big and strong, on a par with most alphas. He's fast, he's a little bit feral, and he loves the thrill of the chase. No alpha has caught him yet - they all give up and go home before Hob has finished enjoying the game. All he ever hopes for is that one day, an alpha will come along who can actually hunt him down like he really deserves.

Dream is absolutely that alpha. He's relentless. He may not have huge muscles, but he's got stamina. He can run for just as long as Hob can, and even longer. He's utterly determined to get this delicious, fascinating omega who seems to be playing with him.

Hob is amazed to find that he actually runs out of breath and strength to run!! And by that point he really wants to be caught. He's thrilled when Dream pounces and tumbles them both down to the ground where they roll around in the dirt, biting and holding each other and exploring each other's scents. Hob gets to feel the thrill of getting leashed by his mate! He's so horny he's basically humping the ground to find relief, and Dream is already obsessed with him. HIS omega.

He holds Hob by the back of his neck and pushes him down, and watches as his legs fall open automatically. The scent of his slick is so much stronger, and the harder Dream holds Hob against the ground, the more aroused he seems to get. His attempts to escape from Dream’s hold are more like tests of strength which he really wants Dream to win.

And being claimed in the open air by his alpha is everything Hob has been dreaming of and needing. His body is a perfect sheath for Dream and he knows that he's coming across as slutty and eager, but he can't help canting his hips back against Dream to get more of his cock. Oh, and the knotting? It's a religious experience. Hob's sexy little outfit is torn to shreds and only the leash remains tightly grasped in Dream’s hand.

When the knot finally deflates and the cum is drooling down Hob’s thighs, they limp out of the hunting grounds with manic grins and big hearts in their eyes. Hob is on top of the world. His alpha is so strong and determined and he's gonna give so many babies and they're gonna be feral in the woods together every year to celebrate <333

[ecliptiz]

EUPHORIC FEELING 2 ╰► MARAUDERS ERA

SUMMARY — The Marauders are… utterly fascinated with the Slytherin Girl

WARNING — Cursing, Fem!Slytherin!Reader, Stupid Teenage Boys. (Mostly Just the boys teasing eachother about liking her- next chapter will be more interactions with Y/N)

— › Previous Chapter

JAMES POTTER was practically bouncing with excitement, his energy infectious and filling the room. He sat on his bed, his body practically in constant motion – his leg jittering, his hands running through his hair repeatedly.

Remus, who had been trying to focus on his book, finally let out an exasperated sigh. He glanced over at James with an annoyed expression. "Merlin, James, could you please stop with the fidgeting? It's making me dizzy just looking at you."

Sirius emerged from the bathroom, his black hair still wet, wrapped in a white towel that barely clung to his waist. He raised an eyebrow at James's frenetic behavior. "What's got you buzzing like a Bludger, mate?"

James flashed a mischievous grin at his friends, well aware that his announcement was going to ruffle some feathers. "Well, guess who's got a date with our lovely Y/N?" He teased, reveling in the mix of surprise and envy that rippled through the room.

Peter leaned forward, his blue eyes widening. "Wait, seriously?" he asked, clearly caught off guard.

Remus rolled his eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "James, please tell me you didn't ask her out by saying 'Hey, Y/N, wanna go on a date?'"

James chuckled, his excitement still palpable. "Of course not! I was way more suave than that."

Sirius snorted, crossing his arms. "Sure, Prongs, I'm sure your idea of suave is something to behold."

James let out an exaggerated sigh, dramatically flopping back onto his bed.

"Knowing James, he probably used his patented Potter charm," Sirius chimed in, a playful smirk on his face. "You know, the one that's been passed down through generations of Potters." Teased Sirius, a dramatic display as he spoke.

Remus rolled his eyes, a mock exasperation in his tone. "Oh, please, like Y/N would fall for that. She's way too smart for that."

James mock-glared at Remus. "Oi, you doubting my skills, Moony?"

Remus just raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with a smirk. "Considering your previous track record, it's not exactly a stretch."

Peter chuckled, leaning against his bedpost. "Yeah, James, remember that time you tried to impress her by juggling cauldron cakes in the Great Hall?"

James's cheeks tinged pink. "I still say the lighting was bad that day."

Sirius burst into laughter. "Or the time you 'accidentally' spilled ink all over her Charms notes?"

James crossed his arms. "Hey, it was just a bit of harmless fun."

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. "And the time you hexed yourself by mistake while trying to show off?"

James let out an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright, I get it. I've had my moments."

James puckered his lips, making exaggerated kissy noises. "Don’t act like you haven’t wanted to snog her from the moment you saw her," James teased, earning a playful eye-roll from Sirius.

“Merlin, You talk about her all the time to James,” Sirius retorted, slipping on his trousers and sweater. "So does Remus—talking about how smart she is in class, or ‘how good she looks when she’s studying,'" he added, mimicking Remus's voice.

“Oi, why am I dragged into it?” Remus chimed in, closing his book and giving them an exasperated look. "Don’t forget Peter, who was staring at her the whole time she was heading over for our potions assignment. He was gazing at her like she was some kind of goddess!" Remus imitated Peter's expression, causing Peter to gasp and protest.

“I didn’t even say anything!” Peter exclaimed, throwing his hands up in a dramatic gesture.

James mockingly clutched his chest in faux offense. "Oh, the faith in me is heartwarming, Wormtail."

Remus chuckled. "He's right though, Prongs. You tend to get a bit… enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastic? Is that what you're calling it?" Sirius raised an eyebrow, smirking.

James rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "I'm not that bad."

Peter grinned mischievously. "Remember that time in Transfiguration when you turned your quill into a bouquet of roses and accidentally set them on fire?"

"Or the time you tripped over your own feet while trying to open the door for her?" Sirius added, laughter dancing in his eyes.

James huffed, trying to hide his embarrassment behind a cocky grin. "Well, tomorrow's going to be different, mark my words."

Remus and Sirius exchanged amused glances. "We'll believe it when we see it, Prongs."

James huffed, furrowing his brows before speaking with an exaggerated tone.

“Oh come on, Sirius, you nearly turned your hair into a bonfire in Potions because you were too busy watching her instead of your cauldron. And Remus here," he pointed dramatically at his friend, "traipses around like an enchanted puppy, ready to fetch her satchel at a moment's notice. And Pete," he turned to Peter, "Mr. Romantic, always slipping her little trinkets like a lovesick first year."

James leaned back with a triumphant smirk, hoping his friends' playful attention would shift away from him.

Sirius chuckled, his eyes dancing with mischief. “Oh, and let’s not forget how Remus blushes like a tomato whenever she talks to him. It's like watching a human thermometer go off the charts.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “Well, at least I don’t try to impress her by doing a strip tease like someone we know.” He arched an eyebrow at Sirius, referring to a particularly embarrassing incident from a few weeks back.

Sirius laughed heartily, nudging Remus playfully. “Hey, that was a dare! And besides, she laughed, didn’t she?”

Peter joined in with a grin. “And James, don’t think we didn’t notice you trying to act all heroic when she dropped her quill. I swear, if you puff your chest out any more, you might just fly away.”

James pouted, feigning innocence. “I was just helping her, guys! It's called being a gentleman.”

The boys exchanged bemused glances as the strange buzzing continued, all eyes on James as he produced an odd-looking mask and removed his glasses, fitting the mask snugly over his eyes. His explanation about needing beauty sleep for the next day only fueled their confusion.

"Did he just—" Sirius began, but James quickly shushed him with an exaggerated gesture.

With a collective shrug, the other three boys settled into their respective beds, each drifting off to sleep in his own time. Soon enough, the room was filled with the gentle symphony of snores,

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Gray 18

First / Previous / Next

Fen spent her time exploring the ship - she was aboard The Dreams of Hyacinth - talking with people and learning as much as she could.

At first, she was viewed with skepticism. Who is this person who speaks with an odd accent wandering around asking operational questions, but soon after the captain let everyone know that Fen was their guest and allowed to ask questions, most everyone opened up. She wasn't allowed to view the reactors, the weapons, or navigation, but she was allowed to check out just about everywhere else.

Fen was constantly surprised at how many humans there were. In hindsight it was silly, it was a Human Empire ship, but she had grown up on a Gren station among just as many K'laxi as humans as well as all the other different sapients that came and went, so it was odd for her surroundings to be so homogenous. She mentioned it to Kel, one of her new friends. Kel was the type of person who adopted people and would show her around and answer her questions. She was a biologist and the head of gardening. Kel was showing Fen the greenhouse. "I can see why you'd think it's odd Fen, but all Imperial ships are like this. Sometimes we get K'laxi exchange personnel, and sometimes one of us will spend a tour with them, but it would be odd for there to be more than humans on a human ship... wouldn't it?"

Fen was astonished. There was a whole gardening department! There was row after row after row of vegetables and fruits all growing under strong lights. The greenhouse smelled of soil and was warm and moist and utterly fascinating. She had never spent time around plants. These days, they reminded her of Ma-ren and their 'visits.' She was following Kel around and grilling her about what she was growing. "The cilantro is ready to harvest. We'll keep some back to let it bolt for coriander - that's the seed - but the rest we'll eat."

"Cilantro? What's that?"

"It's this one, see?" Kel gestured to a low, bushy plant, deep green. Fen leaned down and brushed against it and it released oils giving a burst of a spicy smell. "It's an herb, it's popular with lime-" she gestured to some small trees along a back wall "-and protein.

"Huh. I'd like to try it sometime."

Kel glanced down at her pad. "Today is Taco Tuesday! You can try it at lunch today."

"Taco?" Fen felt the odd word as she said it slowly.

"You'll love them, I promise" Kel smiled.

After the garden tour finished, Kel took Fen to the canteen and she tried her first taco. Watching Kel with skepticism, she picked up the folded, fried tortilla and turned her head and bit into it like she was shown. The flavors were unlike anything she had ever tasted. The onion, the lime, the highly spiced protein - she didn't think to ask what it was - and yes, the cilantro danced and pranced in her mouth as she chewed. It was an experience.

"Kel, this is amazing!" Fen tore into the taco with gusto and devoured both of them. Kel ate hers slightly slower, but still they were both done quickly. Kel went back up to get a few more.

"So Fen, what was it like, growing up on a Gren station?" Kel placed another taco down on Fen's plate.

"I mean, I didn't know anything else, so it was pretty normal for me?" Fen talked around her taco, then swallowed, and continued. "My parents were gone early, and I was taken in by the Gen'mil familial line."

"Familial line? That's K'laxi isn't it?"

Fen nodded. "That's right. They brought me up. I can speak K'inmar as well as Colonic, That's where I got these earrings." Fen turned her head and her piercings flashed. "My wife was K'laxi."

"And the tattoos?" Kel was wearing a shirt that covered them, but had clearly been watching Fen before. Fen raised an eyebrow.

"They're K'laxi yes, but I got them after I left, it's a memorial."

"I see. For your wife" Fen nodded quietly. "I'm sorry, my condolences."

"It's all right." Fen looked up at the buffet. "Any chance we can get more of those Tacos?"

Before Kel could get up to get more tacos, a shadow appeared behind Fen. "Who is your friend Kel? Is this that trash that was dumped from that old bot-jumper that we pinged?" She was a women a little shorter than Fen, wider, more voluptuous, with closely cropped blond hair. She was wearing a sneer as she looked upon Fen.

"Hello Ellen, this is Fen." Kel's voice was venomous.

Ellen scoffed. "Oh, my mistake. I didn't realize that the bots named their pets too." Ellen crossed her arms. "Fen, is it? What's with the cat earrings?"

Fen didn't say anything. Her eyes flicked up to Kel who tried to apologize with her eyes.

"Cat got your tongue?" Ellen's laugh was harsh and deep. She bent down and put her face even with Fen's. "Maybe you just don't understand human speech. Maybe this will help." She started meowing and hissing, like a housecat.

Fen reacted faster than Kel thought possible. Grabbing a fisfull of short hair, she grabbed the back of Ellen's head and slammed it against the table. The noise of Ellen's head striking the table caused all the conversation and noises of cutlery in the canteen to cease. Dazed, Ellen mumbled a swear, but before she could do anything else Fen rose out of her chair, grabbed her wrist, and spun her around in one motion, lifting her arm up to her skull. Ever time Ellen squirmed, Fen lifted the arm higher, until Ellen was standing on her toes.

"I speak Colonic just fine." She hissed. "I also speak Lemilar and K'inmar. I even know a little Innari. My parents died when I was young and I was taken in by a K'laxi familial group. My wife - who is dead, by the way, shot by gangsters - was K'laxi." Ellen tried to turn her head and Fen lifted the arm even higher. The blood ran out of Ellen's face and her eyes widened. "I was raised on a Gren station, do you know the Gren? I assume not. I understand that most of the Empire never ventures beyond their own corner of the galaxy." She lifted Ellen's arm up another millimeter. She whimpered. "The thing is, The Gren are taller than us, about equally muscled, and have thick hides that can nearly turn a knife. They have those reverse articulated legs though, you know them? I'm sure you have, you've probably at least seen a photo of one. Those legs means their hips are exceedingly complex and fragile. It's rather easy to dislocate a Gren's leg from their hips. Painful too. I've used it to my advantage more than once when one of them gave me shit about how I was raised, or who my partners were."

Fen took a moment to look around. She had the whole canteen's attention. Kel was looking at her with a combination of fear and admiration. Nobody seemed to be coming to Ellen's defense. In the back in the door was Captain Cooper who stood there with her arms crossed, watching impassively. Fen turned back to Ellen.

"The thing is, Ellen, humans shoulders are unique in the galaxy. They're complex things. We can throw better than just about anyone else we've seen, but that comes at a cost. Just like the Gren, we can dislocate easily." Fen lifted Ellen's arm up higher and Ellen let loose a whimpered scream.

Ellen tried to rise even taller. "Don't." She panted. "Please."

Fen leaned in even closer to Ellen's ear. "Don't what?" Her lips were almost touching Ellen's ear.

Ellen was on the tips of her toes, trying her hardest to not hang from her arm. "Don't... dislocate my... arm."

"Lieutenant Ellen Hannaford." Captain Cooper's voice was clear in the canteen. "What are you doing?"

"C-Captain, she... she's gonna" Ellen could only pant and gasp around the pain.

"I expected more... eloquence from my officers." Captain Cooper raised an eyebrow. "Ms. Whitehorse?"

Fen lowered Ellen a millimeter, but still held firm. "Ellen had decided to insult my heritage as well as the ship and AI who brought me here. I'm... sensitive to my heritage. Who I am is important to me, and someone who I've never met does not get to come up to me and start flinging slurs."

"Indeed." Captain Cooper's face was impassive. "Is anyone here willing to corroborate Ms. Whitehorse's story?"

Kel stood to attention. "Captain, I concur with our guest's description of events."

Captain Cooper eyed Kel, and turned to the rest of the canteen. "Does anyone wish to come to Lieutenant Hannaford's defense?"

No takers. Fen had a hunch that Ellen had pulled a stunt like this before.

"Well then." Captain Cooper turned back to Fen and Ellen. "Ms. Whitehorse, please continue your demonstration. Show the canteen how easy it is to dislocate a shoulder."

Fen looked Captain Cooper in the eyes. She saw no trick, no hint of anything other than her making a statement. She held the captain's gaze as she lifted Ellen's arm sharply.

Elen's eyes went even wider. "What? No! No nonononono" The pop was sickening. A millisecond before the screaming, Fen could hear the groan of sympathetic pain of the rest of the canteen. Fen released her and Ellen crumpled to the ground, moaning.

Captain Cooper turned to the crowd. "There are multiple lessons to be learned here. One, we always treat our guests with respect. We are to learn from them and they us. The things that Ms. Whitehorse has learned from us today will serve her well further into human space. Two, always evaluate your opponent before you instigate something. Don't start something you can't finish. And Three, Ms. Whitehorse is correct! Our shoulders are easy to dislocate in comparison to other sapients in the galaxy. We will conduct two weeks of remedial xenobiology for all crew. Cohorts will be drawn up and classes conducted - with exams at the end." The crowd groaned and sat back down to finish their lunch. Ellen laid on the floor, sniffling. Captain Cooper stood over her. "Lieutenant, pull yourself together. Get yourself to medical and get that dislocation treated." She turned on her heel and walked out of the canteen.

Fen sat back in her seat and took a sip of water, trying not to shake. That hadn't gone like she expected, the captain told her to dislocate the bully's arm. Kel's eyes shone. "That was amazing Fen! I had no idea you knew how to fight so well!"

"It's not exactly something that one tends to advertise Kel. In my line of work, it pays to be underestimated."

"Your line of work? What do you do?"

Fen stopped. Just what does she do? Telling Kel that she was a trader didn't seem that exciting, and Gord did say that she was good enough to sign on with a Mercenary group.

"I'm a mercenary." She lied.

[yujeong]

Ok, so I have a few asks in my inbox about the fever dream that was 4 Minutes Episode 4 for which I'm thankful once again and I'll get to them soon, but before that, I have to talk a little bit about the brilliant way 4 Minutes portrays someone using sex as a coping mechanism because it's been driving me insane. Tonkla as a character is fascinating, but I'd argue he's not that complicated. Especially now that we got his backstory with Korn, his general behaviour makes so much sense: - He's in love with Korn with whom he had a loving, affectionate relationship that deteriorated as time passed, - He's grieving the death of his brother, - He likes having sex, - He uses sex to cope with both the deterioration of his relationship with Korn AND the death of his brother. It's all right there for us to see. It's in the way he pushes Win into a corner, taking advantage of his feelings for him when he's still in distress about Korn not having contacted him. It's in the way he tells Win that "it'll get better" while being an emotional mess after Korn leaves and Win comes out of his hiding spot. It's in the way he pushes him on the couch and then starts undressing, kissing a stunned Win until he gives in and goes along with it. It's in the way he clings to it when things are hard, like a drug. Speaking of drugs, the sex he partakes with Win has a similar effect in my opinion, which is why I'm making the initial claim in the first place: Tonkla feels euphoric while having sex with Win. He's being utterly worshiped by him, he lets his dom inclinations come out and in this episode he even got fucked raw like he wanted this whole time. However, the effect runs out eventually and he ends up feeling miserable, maybe even worse than before. And it hurts because he probably knows what it does to him. And it hurts because he'll keep doing it.

[aihoshiino]

i wonder how different the story would have gone if, instead of sending ryosuke, kamiki would have visited ai on his own.

the part of me that needs them to be happy says that while he isn't necessarily enamored with the twins at first, he still tries to his best with them. maybe they think he's their new babysitter at first, that'd be funny.

anyways, kamiki awkwardly co-parenting with ai and both of them fumbling through being exes and parents and still caring so deeply for eachother but also being too traumatized to properly communicate.

aqua and ruby are first hostile when they realize that this is the man that got ai pregante™, and then they become the twos biggest shippers. cue incredibly convoluted attempts to get them together again. (i feel that it is important to point out that they're still toddlers at that time, which would make this extra funny)

So the thing about HKAI and the mess that was their relationship is that Hikaru sending Ryosuke in his place is ultimately a symptom, not a cause. It is a consequence of his arrested development in regards to Ai and his inability to conceive of a world where the two of them exist separate of their relationship. To a degree, asking 'could Hikaru and Ai be happy if he didn't send Ryosuke' is kind of asking for Hikaru to be a different character, because at the place he's at at the moment he makes that decision, he can't not make that choice. I've described Ai's tragedy in the past as being simultaneously preventable and unavoidable and the same goes for Hikaru. It's like a fucked up reverse Oroborous - in order to create the conditions for him to be a happier and healthier person, he must already have started taking the steps towards becoming that person - or at least to be further down the road than he is at the equivalent point in canon.

Even if we remove Ryosuke from the picture, I can't really imagine things going that well. I kind of touched on it in a previous ask but even the one-sided conversation we hear that seals Ai's fate raises a lot of red flags for me. He leaps to assuming that Ai is trying to get back together with him and when gently turned down romantically but still offered an opening back into her life as the father of her children, he chooses to betray her trust and send someone to terrorize and potentially hurt Ai and their children so she could 'feel his despair'. Even if we believe his insistence that he really didn't think Ryosuke would kill her, this is still an utterly reprehensible thing to do. It implies a level of not just desire but outright entitlement - that he feels he has the right to 'punish' Ai for… what? Not wanting to rush back into a relationship with him after like, five years of minimal-to-no contact? When he's gone right ahead and proved that the issues that caused their breakup have not been resolved?

Obviously, this is not to say that Hikaru doesn't sincerely love Ai with all his heart or that he doesn't care for her at all. I actually think that contradiction between his clearly observable feelings for her and the actions he nevertheless chooses to take is really fascinating in what it adds to him as a character. A big part of the reason why Hikaru's so fucked up is because he's so deeply in love with Ai and so utterly unable to cultivate a nuanced or healthy relationship with his idea of her.

So… I guess if I'm honest, my vision of it is more Hikaru using visiting the twins as a way of leveraging his way back into Ai's life, successfully or otherwise. I don't really see a scenario where Hikaru is able to work out his shit and become a decent father or partner for Ai, just because too many of his issues are tangled up in this longed-for codependence with her. Maybe this older and wiser Ai could find a way to save him like she wished for, but… is it really fair to put that weight on her shoulders? Why should she, a person with her own desperate struggles and lack of support, go right back to performing the backbreaking emotional labor that contributed to that all-consuming codependence in the first place?

To be clear, I'm saying this as a proud HikaAi shipper who loves a fucked up life-warping codependent romance, but in the context of Oshi no Ko and when we're talking about what would actually make these characters happy, I think Hikaru and Ai, at the place they are at the time of the tragedy, are not in a position to make each other truly fulfilled and happy.

askslmdslkdlsmdsl i'm so sorry anon you sent me such a cute prompt and got this utterly harrowing essay in response 😭 I'M SORRY THAT'S JUST HOW IT CAME OUT

[werewolfsmile]

tysm for answering my qs about werewolf!eliot !! not to keep bugging you lol but i remember you mentioned in the tags of a post one time about a hc/au of parker being some sort of fae or otherworldly being who’s just kinda found herself here in the non-magical world - could you elaborate on that? like how come she’s in the non-fantasy part of the leverage universe, or whether the other characters know, etc? only if you want to of course, no pressure :) i’m really enjoying reading your posts about all these ideas!

You're welcome! And you're definitely not bugging me, I love getting the chance to ramble about my thought lol (werewolf!eliot post here) (link to the post and my tags that started this)

Honestly I don't have as clear ideas for Parker as I did for Eliot, but I imagine her being some kind of changeling or air/wind sprite that was left with humans for whatever reason.

(ooh i'm getting more ideas for this the more i think about it..)

okay, Parker is actually half-fey, half-human

no one really knows who her parents were or how she came to be on her own (me included lol), she was just found on a doorstep as a baby

the people who took her in had their own issues and the state eventually intervened and sent Parker into foster care

she found out at a very early age that she was different to other kids - she could move around without making a sound, she could fit into tiny spaces - all very helpful for a young girl in a foster system that was chewing her up and spitting her out

she also discovered that she could ... not turn invisible exactly, but she could be less visible if she wanted to be; all she has to do is think about not being seen and people's eyes just drift over her

Archie had absolutely no idea what she was when he got his hands on her, but even he knew that she was beyond just a gifted child

he only realised there was something magical about her after she fell off the roof of the warehouse he'd been training her in - then walked it off like it was no biggie

fey creatures love puzzles and riddles, so of course Parker has always had a natural affinity for puzzles (aka locks)

her super artistic talent is a trait that is Entirely Parker and, given that she entered a life of crime early and was surrounded by artistic masterpieces all the time, she never even considered that other people would draw/paint/whatever with any lower skill level

this contributes to her not understanding what the fuss is over art

she gave herself the name Parker when Archie met her and asked her name; it was the first thing that came to mind

she doesn't remember her birth name and isn't bothered by that in the slightest

Eliot was the first of the team to figure out she was fey - being a werewolf, he can smell and/or sense that kind of thing on others

Hardison suspected something was up with her, but then felt bad for thinking that, but then strange things kept happening around her so he started to keep a list ...

pretty much Hardison has a red-string conspiracy theory-style board of Parker Things. He's too terrified of offending her to ask her outright, but he's more convinced every day

(he's also more in love with her and just thinks her fey-ness is another thing to celebrate)

Parker finds Hardison's board of Parker Things and is utterly fascinated. It's like he understands her better than she understands herself. He's super flustered when he finds her poring over the board and tries to make excuses, but Parker's quick to steamroll over that and demands if he knows what she is

Eliot finds them 15 mins later, stuck in an endless loop of confusion over which of them actually knows what Parker is

he just rolls his eyes, says she's half-fey, it's obvious, like, "what? it's a very distinctive smell!"

which leads to how the hell would he know what the fey are and Eliot's like, oh crap, right, they still don't know I'm a werewolf whoops

Hardison and Parker stage a coming-out for her to Nate and Sophie

(Eliot refuses to be involved but still gets roped into carrying the banner. He's still finding glitter in his hair weeks later)

Sophie is thrilled about the reveal and confesses to being a siren (or some other supernatural/magical creature that can manipulate people, idk i have less thoughts about her than i do about parker)

Nate is all like are you kidding me right now what the hell is my life

after a lot of badgering, he confesses he didn't know about Parker, although he has been ... aware of magical beings for some time

no he will not be discussing this any further, can we just get back to the con now??

Parker finds that, now she's aware of her fey-ness, her magical abilities develop further

she doesn't quite gain the ability to fly but ... yeah okay, she can pretty much fly

she wants to test how far this flying ability goes - by, of course, jumping off tall buildings with Hardison in her arms (and no harness for either of them)

Hardison flat out refuses this, so Eliot somehow finds himself the unwilling victim

of course, Parker masters flying while carrying people in no time and proves it to Hardison by just grabbing him and jumping off a building one day

(he's still in therapy for it)

Parker also discovers she can make herself kind of ... misty

this skill is harder to learn but she's already been able to make her hand go misty and whoosh inside a lock

picking the lock is harder in this incorporeal state but Parker's instincts say there's a way to do this, so she keeps practising until she can pretty much disintegrate herself and float through locked doors to rematerialise on the other side

it's a nightmare for the whole team because, sure, it's not like locked doors stopped her in the past. But now she's so excited about it all the time that any concept of privacy completely leaves her brain and she jumps in and out of rooms and safes etc any time of day or night

Wow. This ended up longer than expected! Guess I did have some ideas about fey!Parker after all..