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squinch-depraved · 2 days

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ted, cnc, but make it keeping reader stoned for freeuse purposes

do you see the vision?

you beautiful genius i see the vision and it is glorious - i hope our vision is the same because this was really fun... got rlly intense sooo yaya

CW: cnc, somno, free use, drugging someone, marijuana usage, she/her used, MDNFI

ted tossed your dab pen back to you after taking a long drag from it, pulling the smoke deep into his lungs and expelling it upwards with his head tilted back. you copied him, drawing a large cloud from the cart and hacking a few short coughs while he laughed at you.

"you're a bigger stoner than i am, how are you coughing from that?" he chuckled.

you whipped your head around to glare at him. "coughing isn't indicative of experience smoking, ted. i'm disappointed in you, you should know better." your voice was dry and matter-of-fact. "plus, i took a blinker and you didn't." you leaned back onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, pen still clutched in your hand.

it was quiet for an unquantifiable stretch of time, distorted by the drugs you were sharing, until ted spoke. "you still down for our agreement?" his voice was quiet but hopeful.

your eyes opened (not that you had noticed they closed, you were so relaxed) and you thought back on the deal you made with him. you were only staying at his place for a long weekend, three nights and heading home monday. it was the second day, two more sleeps to go before you had to leave your boyfriend's safe haven of an apartment and head back to your chaotic life. ted had pleaded on discord calls between the two of you for weeks before you flew out to l.a., begging you to let him get you stoned beyond your usual limits and take advantage of you. the idea was actually very appealing, and the thought of what he would do to you fueled your late-night vibrator sessions whenever he couldn't be there in a call with you. you took another long hit off your pen and and spoke as you exhaled it.

"you have my full permission to do whatever you want to me teddy."

he grinned and shifted towards you slightly. "as much as i want? all day?"

you nodded and met his eyes. "all day."

he lunged at you, kissing you deeply before he made a noise and broke away to get up and walk to the kitchen.

"where're you going??" you whined, eyes glassy and hair tousled.

"bought you some edibles. i want you gone for me," his voice carried through the apartment.

"if you bring me a whole nerds rope, the agreement is off," you taunted.

he snorted and shuffled back to the couch, handing you a large, square gummy, and looked at you impatiently until you took it from him. "whole thing. eat it," he instructed.

"oh, my god, ted, this thing is huge! how much is this? am i gonna pass out?"

he rolled his eyes and sat down next to you, putting on a movie to watch while it kicked in. "it's from the dispensary down the street, and it's just a little bit more than the ones we usually take. you'll be fine," he replied, before mumbling a, "probably."

with a deep breath, you popped the square in your mouth, not realizing until you had swallowed it that you hadn't eaten at all for the day. oh well, you thought. i'm already in too deep. and so you surrendered to your high, trying your best to pay attention to the obscure film he put on to trip you out. when it finished, ted looked over at you as the credits rolled. your eyes were red and lidded, mouth hanging open in surprise at the ending as you slowly processed what you could. he smirked hungrily while he watched you for a second before reaching over and pulling your pants off, laying you on your back and pushing the stolen hoodie of his you were wearing up so he could see your breasts.

you mumbled something he couldn't understand as he eagerly stretched you on his fingers, bending your legs back so he had a better view of your dripping hole. "ted, teddy, ngh- fuck!" you mewled when he finally pressed his lips to your clit. he sucked at your sensitive nub, working and curling his fingers still while he sloppily ate you out. you glanced down at him and he shifted his eyes to look directly into yours, cutting right through you. a loud, drawn out moan tore from your lips as you laid your head back down, nearly covered by the wet sounds of ted making out with your pussy.

"ted, 's getting to be too much," you cried, your own words echoing in your ears as the room began spinning. he gave your ass a quick smack and started swirling his tongue faster, holding you down when you inevitably began to squirm. "i- i can't, please, teddy, i feel so much! can't handle it! please stop!"

you bucked your hips frantically, trying both to get away from his face and bring it impossibly closer. he moaned into your core and smacked you again, much harder this time. you screamed pitifully as you clenched your thighs around his head, crying out, "stop!! baby, please, i'm gonna.." you trailed off when you started seeing stars, only able to make nonsensical noises while tears flowed down your cheeks. you swore you felt him grin against you and prayed he would finally stop, but he just kept going.

you have no idea how long you laid there, being devoured by your boyfriend like that. your sense of time was beyond fucked, and all you could do was occasionally beg, "stop? please?" before getting slapped again. he was going to eat until he had his fill, and you were going to have to deal. when he finally pulled away, you looked down at him and your stomach flipped. his face was red, lips puffy and wet, stubble soaked by your essence, and his hazel eyes peered up, and then down at you as he sat up and wiped his face with his sleeve. your eyes flicked down to the tent in his pants, adorned by a dark wet spot right where his tip would be, and you blinked slowly before looking back up.

he handed you your pen from the table and said, "smoke more and take a nap. i gotta get some shit done but we're not finished here."

you sighed and obeyed, taking a hit to appease him before he walked away. you pulled a blanket over you, not bothering to put pants back on before curling up and dozing off. ted checked back in on you after cleaning up the mess he made in his pants, and, finding you sleeping peacefully, he got a few chores done around the apartment. he wanted to be sure you were really sleeping so your reaction to him taking you forcefully would be all the more adorable. the groggy expression on your face as you pleaded for him to stop, the futile struggle you would put up as he held you down- it was all going to make tonight worth the weeks he had to put up with between your visits.

it was late afternoon when you came to. orange light filtered through the blinds, and you were suddenly very cold. you turned your head to look at what was happening and found ted kneeling between your legs on the couch, pumping his cock in his hand before shoving your legs open wider. you were stupid from the weed; your eyes only widened a little bit when you realized what was happening.

"no! nonononono! ted! please, please don't," you stuttered, brain trying to keep up with the situation.

he simply grinned and hooked your legs over his shoulders, lining himself up with you and waiting for just a moment before he said, "'anything i want,' baby. you said. this is your fault." with that, he buried himself deep into you, savoring every second and gently pumping his hips.

after a minute, he started thrusting harder, chuckling breathlessly when you resumed begging him to stop. of course, he knew you'd use the safe word if you really needed him to stop. it was so like you to put on a show for him, you really were such a performative slut. or maybe you really didn't remember.

"god, baby, you're so weak under me! hate to think of what else i could do to ya without you bein' able to stop me," he growled, still grinning. "taste these, huh, baby?" he shoved his fingers in your mouth, pressing them onto your tongue and watching as tears filled your eyes yet again, and he relished in how pathetic you looked as he ruined you.

when you started gagging on his digits, he pulled them out and wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly. "my pretty baby takes me sooo well, even when she doesn't want to," he continued, now pounding into you. all you could do was cry.

"y'know," he started with a laugh. "i really didn't think you'd be stupid enough to eat that whole gummy!" the sound of him smacking into you persisted as you slowly worked through what he said.

"wha?" you slurred, cockdrunk and higher than you had ever been.

"you just believed me so easily! one fourth-" he slammed deep into you, "- of that thing is what we usually have, but you just ate it all because i told you to." he leered down at you, continuing, "so trusting. so stupid. what if i wanted to hurt you, love? what if i used you until you were worthless and then kept going?"

you just sobbed. "and then i told you to smoke more, and you did! you stupid little slut! i bet you've never been this high, huh?" he was right in a way he couldn't imagine. you were floating, every inch of your skin tingling, and your core ached from overstimulation. you didn't think there was such a thing as too many orgasms, but here you were. your thoughts were a mess, the only thing in your mind was the name you were screaming: "teddy!!" over and over and over as you bawled, pounding your fist at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him. but he persisted, railing you at an inhumane speed and reaching unexplored depths.

your only indication he was close was him gripping your throat far too tight, and you frantically grasped at his fingers while he jackhammered into you several final times before burying his shaft as far as it could go and cumming in you with a low, "fuuuck..."

the two of you kept your eyes locked until he caught his breath and removed his hand from your now slightly bruised throat. the sight snapped him out of his brutish state as he began to panic, kissing your neck softly and cooing about how sorry he was.

you just smiled and let your eyes fall closed, trusting him to take care of you after he had abused you so filthily.

#chuckle sandwich #x reader #ted nivison #ted nivison x you #ted nivision smut #ted nivision x reader #this healed me a bit i think #i really like this one

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signalburst · 4 months

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Shōgun Historical Shallow-Dive: the Final Part - The Samurai Were Assholes, When 'Accuracy' Isn't Accurate, Beautiful Art, and Where to From Here

Final part. There is an enormous cancer attached to the samurai mythos and James Clavell's orientalism that I need to address. Well, I want to, anyway. In acknowledging how great the 2024 adaptation of Shōgun is, it's important to engage with the fact that it's fiction, and that much of its marketed authenticity is fake. That doesn't take away from it being an excellent work of fiction, but it is a very important distinction to me.

If you want to engage with the cool 'honourable men with swords' trope without thinking any deeper, navigate away now. Beyond here, there are monsters - literal and figurative. If you're interested in how different forms of media are used to manufacture consent and shape national identity, please bear with me.

I think the makers of 2024's Shōgun have done a fantastic job. But there is one underlying problem they never fully wrestled with. It's one that Hiroyuki Sanada, the leading man and face of the production team, is enthusiastically supportive of. And with the recent announcement of Season 2, it's likely to return. You may disagree, but to me, ignoring this dishonours the millions of people who were killed or brutalised by either the samurai class, or people in the 20th century inspired by a constructed idea of them.

Why are we drawn to the samurai?

A pretty badly sourced, but wildly popular history podcast contends that 'The Japanese are just like everybody else, only more so.' I saw a post on here that tried to make the assertion that the show's John Blackthorne would have been exposed to as much violence as he saw in Japan, and wouldn't have found it abnormal.

This is incorrect. Obviously 16th and 17th century Europe were violent places, but they contained violence familiar to Europeans through their cultural lens. Why am I confidently asserting this? We have hundreds of letters, journals and reports from Spaniards, Portuguese, Dutch and English expressing absolute horror about what they encountered. Testing swords on peasants was becoming so common that it would eventually become the law of the land. Crucifixion was enacted as a punishment for Christians - first by the Taiko, then by the Tokugawa shogunate - for irony's sake.

Before the end of the feudal period, battles would end with the taking of heads for washing and display. Depending on who was viewing them, this was either to honour them, or to gloat: 'I'm alive, you're dead.' These things were ritualised to the point of being codified when real-life Toranaga took control. Seppuku started as a cultural meme and ended up being the enforced punishment for any minor mistake for the 260 years the ruling samurai class acted as the nation's bureaucracy. It got more and more ritualised and flowery the more it got divorced from its origin: men being ordered by other men to kill themselves during a period of chaotic warfare. I've read accounts of samurai 'warriors' during the Edo period committing seppuku for being late for work. Not life-and-death warrior work - after Sekigahara, they were just book-keepers. They had desk jobs.

Since Europe's contact with Japan, the samurai myth has fascinated and appalled in equal measure. As time has gone on, the fascination has gone up and the horror has been dialled down. This is not an accident. This isn't just a change in the rest of the world's perception of the samurai. This is the result of approximately 120 years of Japanese government policies. Successive governments - nationalist, military authoritarian, and post-war democratic - began to lionize the samurai as the perfect warrior ideal, and sanitize the history of their origin and their heydey (the period Shōgun covers). It erases the fact that almost all of the fighting of the glorious samurai Sengoku Jidai was done by peasant ashigaru (levies), who had no choice.

It is important to never forget why this was done initially: to form an imagined-historical ideal of a fighting culture. An imagined fighting culture that Japanese invasion forces could emulate to take colonies and subdue foreign populations in WWI, and, much more brutally, in WWII. James Clavell came into contact with it as a Japanese Prisoner of War.

He just didn't have access to the long view, or he didn't care.

The Original Novel - How One Ayn Rand Fan Introduced Japan to America

There's a reason why 1975's Shogun novel contains so many historical anachronisms. James Clavell bought into a bunch of state-sanctioned lies, unachored in history, about the warring states period, the concept of bushido (manufactured after the samurai had stopped fighting), and the samurai class's role in Japanese history.

For the novel, I could go into great depth, but there are three things that stand out.

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. He's a novelist, and he did what he liked. But Clavell's novel was groundbreaking in the 70's because it was sold as a lightly-fictionalised history of Japan. The unfortunate fact is the official version that was being taught at the time (and now) is horseshit, and used for far-right wing authoritarian/nationalist political projects. The Three Unifiers and the 'honour of the samurai' magnates at the time is a neat package to tell kids and adults, but it was manufactured by an early-20th century Japanese Imperial Government trying to harness nationalism for building up a war-ready population. Any slightly critical reading of the primary sources shows the samurai to be just like any ruling class - brutal, venal, self-interested, and horrifically cruel. Even to their contemporary warrior elites in Korea and China.

Fake history as propraganda. Clavell swallowed and regurgitated the 'death before dishonour', 'loyalty to the cause above all else', 'it's all for the Realm' messages that were deployed to justify Imperial Japanese Army Class-A war crimes during the war in the Pacific and the Creation of the Greater East Asian Co-Properity Sphere. This retroactive samurai ethos was used in the late Meiji restoration and early 20th century nationalist-military governments to radicalise young Japanese men into being willing to die for nothing, and kill without restraint. The best book on this is An Introduction to Japanese Society by Sugimoto Yoshio, but there is a vast corpus of scholarship to back it up.

Clavell's orientalism strays into outright racism. Despite the novel Shōgun undercutting John Blackthorne as a white savior in its final pages - showing him as just a pawn in the game - Clavell's politics come into play in every Asia Saga novel. A white man dominates an Asian culture through the power of capitalism. This is orthagonal to points 1 and 2, but Clavell was a devotee of Ayn Rand. There's a reason his protagonists all appear cut from the same cloth. They thrust their way into an unfamiliar society, they use their knowledge of trade and mercantilism to heroically save the day, they are remarked upon by the Asian characters as braver and stronger, and they are irresistible to the - mostly simpering, extremely submissive - caricatures of Asian women in his novels. Call it a product of its times or a product of Clavell's beliefs, I still find it repulsive. Clavell invents (nearly from whole cloth, actually) the idea that samurai find money repulsive and distasteful, and his Blackthorne shows them the power of commerce and markets. Plus there are numerous other stereotypes (Blackthorne's massive dick! Japanese men have tiny penises! Everyone gets naked and bathes together because they're so sexually free! White guys are automatically cool over there!) that have fuelled the fantasies of generations of non-Japanese men, usually white: Clavell's primary audience of 'dad history' buffs.

2024's Shōgun, as a television adaptation, did a far better job in almost every respect

But the show did much better, right? Yes. Unquestionably. It was an incredible achievement in bringing forward a tired, stereotypical story to add new themes of cultural encounter, questioning one's place in the broader world, and killing your ego. In many ways, the show was the antithesis to Clavell's thesis.

It drastically reigned in the anachronistic, ahistorical referencees to 'bushido' and 'samurai honor', and showed the ruling class of Japan in 1600 much more accurately. John Blackthorne (William Adams) was shown to be an extraordinary person, but he wasn't central to the outcome of the Eastern Army-Western Army civil war. There aren't scenes of him being the best lover every woman he encounters in Japan has ever had (if you haven't read the book, this is not an exaggeration). He doesn't teach Japanese warriors how to use matchlock rifles, which they had been doing for two hundred years. He doesn't change the outcome of enormous events with his thrusting, self-confident individualism. In 2024's Shōgun, Blackthorne is much like his historical counterpart. He was there for fascinating events, but not central. He wasn't teaching Japanese people basic concepts like how to make money or how to make war.

On fake history - the manufactured samurai mythos - it improved on the novel, but didn't overcome the central problems. In many ways, I can't blame the showrunners. Many of the central lies (and they are deliberate lies) constructed around the concept of samurai are hallmarks of the genre. But it's still important to me to notice when it's happening - even while enjoying some of the tropes - without passively accepting it.

'Authenticity' to a precisely manufactured story, not to history

There's a core problem surrounding the promotion and manufactured discussion surrounding 2024's Shōgun. I think it's a disconnect between the creative and marketing teams, but it came up again and again in advertising and promotion for the show: 'It's authentic. It's as real as possible.'

I've only seen this brought up in one article, Shōgun Has a Japanese-Superiority Complex, by Ryu Spaeth:

'The show also valorizes a supreme military power that is tempered by the pursuit of beauty and the highest of cultures, as if that might be a formula for peace. Shōgun displays these two extremes of the Japanese self, the savagery and the refinement, but seems wholly unaware that there may be a connection between them, that the exquisite sensibility Japan is famous for may flow from, and be a mask for, its many uses of atrocious domination.'

Here we come to authenticity.

'The publicity surrounding the series has focused on its fidelity to authenticity: multiple rounds of translation to give the dialogue a “classical” feel; fastidious attention to how katana swords should be slung, how women of the nobility should fold their knees when they sit, how kimonos should be colored and styled; and, crucially, a decentralization of the narrative so that it’s not dominated by the character John Blackthorne.'

It's undeniable that the 2024 production spent enormous amounts of energy on authenticity. But authenticity to what? To traditional depictions of samurai in Japanese media, not to history itself. The experts hired for gestures, movement, costumes, buildings, and every other aspect of the show were experts with decades in experience making Japanese historical dramas 'look right', not experts in Japanese history. But this appeal to 'Japanese authenticity' was made in almost every piece of promotional material.

The show had only one historical advisor on staff, and he was Dutch. The numerous Japanese consultants, experts and specialists brought on board (talked about at length in the show's marketing and behind the scenes) were there to assist with making an accurate Japanese jidaigeki. It's the difference between hiring an experienced BBC period drama consultant, and a historian specialising in the Regency. One knows how to make things look 'right' to a British audience. The other knows what actually happened.

That's fine, but a critical viewing of the show needs to engage with this. It's a stylistically accurate Japanese period drama. It is not an accurate telling of Japanese history around the unification of Japan. If it was, the horses would be the size of ponies, there would be far more malnourished and brutalised peasants, the word samurai would have far less importance as it wasn't yet a rigidly enforced caste, seppuku wouldn't yet be ritualised and performed with as much frequency, and Toranaga - Tokugawa - would be a famously corpulently obese man, pounding the saddle of his horse in frustration at minor setbacks, as he was in history.

The noble picture of restraint, patience, refinement and honour presented by Hiroyuki Sanada as Toranaga/Tokugawa is historical sanitation at its most extreme. Despite being Sanada's personal hero, Tokugawa Ieyasu was a brutal warlord (even for the standards of the time), and he committed acts of horrific cruelty. He ordered many more after gaining ultimate power. Think a miniseries about the Founding Fathers of the United States that doesn't touch upon slavery - I'm sure there have been plenty.

The final myth that 2024's Shōgun leaves us with is that it took a man like Toranaga - Tokugawa Ieyasu - to bring peace to a land ripped assunder by chaos. This plays into 19th century notions of Great Man History, and is a neat story, but the consensus amongst historians is if it wasn't Tokugawa, it would have been some other cunt. In many cases, it very nearly was. His success was historical contingency, not 5D chess.

So how did this image get manufactured, to the point where the Japanese populace - by and large - believes it to be true? Very long story short: after a period of rapid modernisation, Japan embraced nationalism in the late 19th century. It was all the rage. Nationalism depends on a glorified past. The samurai (recently the pariahs of Japanese history) were repurposed as Japan's unique warrior heroes, and woven into state education. This was especially heated in the 1920s and 30s in the lead up to the invasion of Manchuria and Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. Nationalism + militarism = the modern Japanese samurai myth, to prepare men to obey orders unquestioningly from a military dictatorship.

This persists in the postwar period. Every year since 1963, Japan's state broadcaster NHK commissions a historical drama - a Taiga Drama, where many of this show's actors got their starts - that manufactures and re-enforces the idea of samurai as noble, artful, honourable people. Read a book - read a Wikipedia article! - and you'll see that most of it stems from Tokugawa-shogunate era self-propaganda. It's much like the European re-interpretation of chivalry. In Europe's case, chivalry in actual history was a set of guidelines that allowed for the sanctioned mass-rape and murder of civilians, with a side of rules regarding the ransoming of nobles in scorched-earth military campaigns. In Japan's case, historical figures that regularly backstabbed each other, tortured rival warriors and their lessers, and inflicted horrific casualties on the peasants that they owned (we have a term for that) are cast as noble, honourable, dedicated servants of the Empire.

Why does this matter to me? Samurai movies and TV shows are just media, after all. The issue, for me, is that the actors, the producers - including Hiroyuki Sanada - passionately extoll 'accuracy' as if they genuinely believe they're telling history. They talk emotionally about bushido and its special place in Japanese society.

But the entire concept of bushido is a retroactive, post-conflict, samurai construction. Bushio is bullshit. Despite being spoken of as the central tenet of 2024's Shōgun by actors like Hiroyuki Sanada, Tadanobu Asano, and Tokuma Nishioka, it simply didn't exist at the time. It was made up after the advent of modern nationalism.

It was used to justify horrendous acts during the late Edo period, the Meiji restoration, and the years leading up to the conclusion of Japan's war of aggression in the Pacific. It's still used now by Japan's primarily right-wing government to deny war crimes and justify the horrors unleashed on Asia and the Pacific during World War II as some kind of noble warrior crusade. If you ever want your stomach turned, visit the museum attached to Yasukuni Shrine. It's a theme park dedicated to war crimes denial, linked intimately to Japan's imagined warrior past. Whether or not the production staff, cast, and marketing team of 2024's Shōgun knew they were engaging with a long line of ahistorical bullshit is unknown, but it is important.

It's also important to acknowledge that, having listened to many interviews with Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks, they were acutely aware that they weren't Japanese, to claim to be telling an authentically Japanese story would be wrong, and that all they could do was do their best to make an engaging work that plays on ideas of cultural encounter and letting go. I think the 'authenticity!' thing is mostly marketing, and judicious editing of what the creators and writers actually said in interviews.

So... you hate the show, then? What the hell is this all about?

No, I love the show. It's beautiful. But it's a beautiful artwork.

Just as the noh theatre in the show was a twisting of events within the show, so are all works of fiction that take inspiration from history. Some do it better than others. And on balance, in the show, Shōgun did it better than most. But so much of the marketing and the discussion of this adaptation has been on its accuracy. This has been by design - it was the strategy Disney adopted to market the show and give it a unique viewing proposition.

'This time, Shōgun is authentic!*

*an authentic Japanese period drama, but we won't mention that part.

And audiences have conflated that with what actually happened, as opposed to accuracy to a particular form of Japanese propaganda that has been honed over a century. This difference is crucial.

It doesn't detract from my enjoyment of it. Where I view James Clavell's novel as a horrid remnant of an orientalist, racist past, I believe the showrunners of 2024's Shōgun have updated that story to put Japanese characters front and centre, to decentralise the white protagonist to a more accurate place of observation and interest, and do their best to make a compelling subversion of the 'stranger in a strange land' tale.

But I don't want anyone who reads my words or has followed this series to think that the samurai were better than the armed thugs of any society. They weren't more noble, they weren't more honourable, they weren't more restrained. They just had 260 years in which they worked desk-jobs while wearing two swords to write stories about how glorious the good old days were, and how great people were.

Well... that's a bleak note to end on. Where to from here?

There are beautiful works of fiction that engage much closer with the actual truth of the samurai class that I'd recommend. One even stars Hiroyuki Sanada, and is (I think) his finest role.

I'd really encourage anyone who enjoyed Shōgun to check out The Twilight Samurai. That was the reality for the vast majority of post-Sekigahara samurai

For something closer to the period that Shogun is set, the best film is Seppuku (Hara-Kiri in English releases). It is a post-war Japanese film that engages both with the reality of samurai rule, and, through its central themes, how that created mythos was used to radicalise millions of Japanese into senseless death during the war. It is the best possible response to a romanticisation of a brutal, hateful period of history, dominated by cruel men who put power first, every single time.

I want to end this series, if I can, with hope. I hope that reading the novel or watching the 1980 show or the 2024 show has ignited in people an interest in Japanese culture, or society, or history. But don't let that be an end. Go further. There are so many things that aren't whitewashed warlords nobly killing - the social history of Japan is amazing, as is the women's history. A great book for getting an introduction to this is The Japanese: A History in 20 Lives.

And outside of that, there are so many beautiful Japanese movies and shows that don't deal with glorified violence and death. In fact, it makes up the vast majority of Japanese media! Who would have thought! Your Name was the first major work of art to bridge some of the cultural animosity between China and Japan stemming from WW2, and is a goofy time travel love story. Perfect Days is a beautiful movie about the simple joy of living, and it's about the most Tokyo story you can get.

Please go out, read more, watch more. If you can, try and find your way to Japan. It's one of the most beautiful places on earth. The people are kind, the food is delicious, and the culture is very welcoming to foreigners.

2024's Shōgun was great, but please don't let that be the end. Let it be the beginning, and I hope it serves as a gateway for you.

And I hope our little fandom on here remembers this show as a special time, where we came together to talk about something we loved. I'll miss you all.

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helloliriels · 7 months

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Join the flood of applause in awarding ...

My heart isn't ready ... but to you brave and true who read it and loved it (and wept buckets to warn us!) ... I heard you! Multiple nominations appeared for this one!!!

Join me in honouring a fandom fave, christened by (literally) thousands as:

"Exquisite", "Ridiculously enthralling and BEYOND glorious ...!", "Like the sweet pull of a ROLLER COASTER!", "I need to slow down so it NEVER ends ...", "So powerfully written, but FUCK it hurts!", "Oh GOD, oh god", "💧💧💧", *shaking sobs & broken moans*", "*whimpers reading through fingers*"

A RIVER WITHOUT BANKS

by Chryse

@youcouldcallmegus @impalaparkedat221b @pansy-byke @chinike @rhasima @totallysilvergirl @inevitably-johnlocked @arabbitjohn @jrow @scrub456 @lovelenivy @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant @thetimemoves @egregiously-chuffed @iwlyanmw @missdeliadili @masterofhounds @4thelneyj0nes @detafo @sarahthecoat @lavenderandvanilla @ceruleanmindpalace @bluebellinbakerstreet @a-different-equation @aquilea-of-the-lonely-mountain @janetm74 @superhollykat @zira-and-crowley @anyawen @shelleysprometheus @randomwordsonpaper @podfixx @insistentbass @strawberrywinter4 @purplevatican @quickslvxrr @bakersttardis @gh-0-sties-blog @trishthepotato @fluffbyday-smutbynight @marta-bee @the-sign-of-tea @shirleycarlton @carla-creates @naefelldaurk @compact-and-beautiful @dw91165 @bakingsherlycakes @mr-nauseam @glows-n-the-dark

yes! i am purposefully tagging different peeps but feel free to message me if you want added/removed at any time! this is a short award season and trying not to exclude anyone who has interacted lately! 💋 xoxo - Liri

#hello award season!#sherlocked 2024 #sherlock in a sheet #a river without banks #chryse #helloliriels #it's award season baby!

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strwbrythoughts · 4 months

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the unseen lovers | alhaitham

prologue

Series masterlist | Word count: 749

On his days off, Alhaitham found that the silence in his home was a bit too heavy to endure alone.

He occupied the living area on his own. A pot of freshly brewed tea still piping hot sat on the coffee table, a thick book on quantum physics he was rereading for the seventh time in his right hand and the lack of noise filling his ears. That was what his usual Saturday morning would be like.

Alhaitham never knew he would grow to eventually disdain it.

Some Saturdays, his hatred was fierce enough to propel him to use other rooms. Sometimes he would read in the kitchen but not while eating a bowl of soup. He always told himself it was difficult to read while eating soup. Other times he would read in bed, only to find his eyes more prone to closing than staying open.

Perhaps that was why he found himself in the library now.

This house’s library was somewhat smaller than his late grandma’s, but it didn’t really matter. The shelves were still full of the books his grandmother would read to him — and eventually, he would read them himself when he was grown enough to do so — back when he was a wee little boy.

The light teal lounge chair in the room was his grandma’s favourite. It was never just an ordinary lounge chair; to him, it was grandma’s. Grandma’s chair. The one she sat in from when she was an energetic old lady until she was a sickly and frail one. Alhaitham did not know if he was having hallucinations, but sometimes he swore he could see her sitting there, even after her passing.

His footsteps were light and nimble on the wooden floors. He approached the chair, feeling the soft carpet beneath his feet as he sat down. His body leaned back; he was relaxed. A soft smile played on his lips as he basked in the glorious morning light seeping through his window.

The silence in his home may have been deafening, but right now, he was at peace and content.

— ᯓᡣ𐭩 —

Alhaitham’s eyes fluttered open, his eyelashes that were previously resting peacefully on his face now more energetic than before. He had fallen asleep. The grandfather clock’s needles on his right showed him the time; 1:43 pm.

While he was cradled in the sweet arms of slumber, his left hand had landed atop a thick, hard-cover book on the small table beside his grandma’s chair. His widened eyes scanned the title, how did he not see this book when he came in? He prided himself on being observant regarding things he cared about, which is why he felt this was a bit bizarre.

‘The Star I Aim to Reach’ was written in big, clunky letters on the cover. The design was relatively simple. There were small drawings of stars and planets surrounding the title in white with a black background. Simple it may be, yet it was enough to capture his interest.

Alhaitham flipped the cover carefully after putting the book onto his lap. The words that greeted him were the ones he least expected.

‘Grandma’s Favourite Book’ was written on the very first page with black marker. Beneath it was a message written with a green pen. Neither his eyes nor his mind could deceive him; this was grandma’s handwriting.

Alhaitham’s eyes immediately wanted to read the passage in green. Green was the colour his grandma would use when she wanted to highlight important things to him, as it was the ‘colour of my beloved grandchild’s eyes’, as she always said.

The passage read:

‘My beloved grandchild, Alhaitham.

If you are reading this passage, then I am happier than a man who won the lottery. This is my final wish for you that I could not convey when I was alive. Forgive me, you were too young back then. It would have been inappropriate to entrust this to you when all you wanted to do was read and learn.

Read this book and find the girl whose entire world lies behind the curtains. Find the girl who works tirelessly to ensure others would smile, and befriend her. Should you want to go beyond the boundaries of friendship, I shall not reject her; and if you do not find her suitable to even be a friend, I shall not reject you.

Many kisses,

Grandma’

Alhaitham shut the book close. What in the world was his grandma talking about?

Thank you for reading!

#berry writes #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham #female reader

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 4 months

Text

2|3 – The Moon;; KSY

Word Count;; 1.7k

Genre;; Fluff, Humour(ish), (B)F2Ls

Pairing;; Hoshi x Reader

Summary;;

It’s Rose Day, or Yellow Day, whichever, or neither. It doesn’t matter because you’re spending the day with your three best friends. Nothing more, nothing less - just another uneventful May 14th eating singles curry. Or at least that was your plan. It seems, however, that Hoshi has a plan of his own.

Warnings;;

None! it's pure fluff, babie! well, aside from the murder of an innocent cellular device.

Notes;;

Here is the third instalment of a collab I am doing with @writeformesinpie - Holidays With Seventeen. Every 14th day of the month is considered a holiday in South Korea so we’re basing the prompts off those! May 14th is Yellow Day, or Rose Day! ... dropped my phone while trying to replicate Reader's actions, call that method writing

Collab Masterlist

Main Masterlist || SVT Masterlist

“Why is he so late?” you groan, flipping your phone in the air before catching it with one hand.

“Don’t do that."

With a roll of the eyes you lean back against the couch. Plush cushions engulf you but do little to dampen the harsh clack of approaching footsteps. Joshua's hand slides into your peripheral before jutting out past your shoulder. His pretty fingers wiggle in expectation. Beside you, Seokmin snickers.

"I won't do it again."

"I don't believe you."

And he shouldn't. Itching to throw the device back into the air, your fingers clamp around the cool glass screen. You tilt your head side to side as you decide the best way out of the lecture when a text message comes through.

Horanghae: almost there!

You can't stop yourself from smiling. Showing the phone to each of your friends, you shake it, indifferent to its fragile nature. Consisting of a loose two finger grip, your hold on the device is precarious at best.

"If you break another ph–"

It wobbles about like a bobblehead before flinging free. In a glorious arc, it flies high and fast. Your mouth falls open in a strangled shout. Over the coffee table and past the lounge chairs, the phone disappears into the unknown with a sharp crack.

Silence follows.

You blink thrice in rapid succession. Inch by inch you turn to your couchmate. Seokmin mirrors you. His mouth is hanging open and his eyes are wide. Disbelief ties his tongue and he merely gapes at you. Brows furrowing, you shake your head. He gestures toward the scene of the crime. With a huff you slump back into the couch.

"Unbelievable," Joshua murmurs as he traverses beyond the visible realm and into the electronic graveyard where your phone now rests. He drops behind the lounge chairs right as the front door swings open. "It's shattered."

"I'm here!"

"No!" you cry, head falling into your hands.

Seokmin rubs your back. "There, there."

"What kind of greeting is that?" Soonyoung jokes, entering the living room with several bags in tow. They crinkle with each step before he tosses them on the table.

Joshua pops back into view with a heavy sigh. "I'll take you to buy a new one."

"A new one? But I'm one of a kind!"

"Thanks, Josh. You're the best."

"Don't mention it."

"Are you guys seriously ignoring me when I come bearing gifts?"

"Maybe if you arrived five minutes earlier we wouldn't have witnessed another phone's untimely end," Seokmin says, shaking his head in disapproval.

"You're right," you fake-sniffle, pointing a finger at Soonyoung, "this is his fault."

"My fault?"

"Did you even buy us anything?" Joshua asks while looking through Soonyoung's haul. He pulls out two matching tiger-print jackets. Instead of a warm orange they're eye-stinging yellow. "There's only two sets."

"Why would I buy you something?"

"Not even a hat?" Seokmin's tone is incredulous as he jumps up to help the search.

Joshua frowns. "Not even snacks.”

Soonyoung nudges the pair aside. He's beaming as he shoves everything back inside the now tearing bags. Joshua and Seokmin glance at one another, communicating on a level you're not quite fluent in.

"You know what I just realised?" Joshua begins, tapping his finger against his chin. "We need food. Not it."

"Not it!"

All three of you shout in unison. It's impossible to tell who was last, but it definitely wasn't you. You're never last! So the fact that Seokmin is sidling up to Joshua, leaving both you and Soonyoung on the wrong side of the table, is a tell-tale sign of fraud.

"Then it's decided. You two will go."

It was rigged!

"Well, if we have to!" Soonyoung says without a hint of despondency.

"But I don't want to! Can't we make our sad little singles curry here?"

"Host's rules,” Joshua deadpans.

Seokmin shrugs off your pleading stare. You understand him sacrificing you (you’d do the same to him, after all) but this isn’t a full grocery run – it’s a quick stop at a curry joint. It would make more sense if you all went. Then you could just eat there!

Joshua disappears into the kitchen before you can suggest the obvious, putting an end to the discussion. Seokmin teeters by the edge of the living room table, fingers fiddling with the plastic bags, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

With a small pout on your lips you turn to Soonyoung. Considering he only just arrived he doesn’t seem put out by the fact they’re sending him onto those mean streets to battle for a seat at the best curry place in town. It’s a warzone fuelled by the hunger of middle aged office workers – no one in their right mind would smile knowing the hardships you two soon face.

“Let’s go,” you say, a distant echo in your voice.

You’re a mere step closer to the door when Seokmin speaks up. "It's cold out there so you'll want to wear this!"

“Cold? But it’s May…” you trail off, attention set wholly on the man in front of you.

The bags crinkle as Seokmin rummages. Yanking out one of the jackets, he tosses it at you. With a quick shake you hold it up in all its glory. Dandelion yellow, bee fuzz yellow, pikachu yellow – it’s so yellow. You’re no longer in control of yourself as your eyes squint and your jaw drops. Seokmin isn’t finished unveiling Soonyoung’s treasures, however. Next comes a black cap. It hits you square in the face before falling onto your outstretched arms. On the front are small paw prints which are also… yellow. Just like the curry you're being sent out to the frontlines to buy for none other than–

"It's Yellow day!" Flabbergasted, you gawk between your three friends; Joshua is rolling his eyes in the kitchen, Seokmin is laughing so loud the sound is reverberating off the walls, and…

Soonyoung’s eyes are crescent moons as he grins at you, his nose scrunched and his mirth palpable.

"You want to match… with me?"

"Of course I do!” he says, pouncing closer. “Unless you don’t want to. Then I’ll just make DK wear it.”

“Nope, not it, never in your life.” Seokmin shakes his head to and fro before tossing the other bag at Soonyoung. “Take your stuff and go, pal. We don’t have all night.”

Despite the hurried waving of hands trying to usher you out the door, you take your time slipping into the jacket. The inside is cool and smooth, easy to slide on, yet it warms you the second you finish zipping it up nice and snug. While the design choice is questionable (you look like a holey slice of moon cheese), the jacket itself isn’t too bad.

“You look cute,” Soonyoung practically shouts, throat bobbing as he looks away. “Let’s go!”

He’s at the door and flinging it open with a little too much force before you can respond. The ‘Hey, you’re pretty cute yourself,’ and ’I really like you– in that jacket!’ and ’We’re just friends… unless?’ remain unspoken, but perhaps that’s for the best. Trotting behind him like a little show puppy, you strike a pose inside the doorway.

“Tada!” you actually shout, and he jumps back in surprise. It doesn’t last long.

“Tada!” he reciprocates, mimicking your pose.

“Tada!” you both say in unison while springing 180 degrees to pose for Seokmin.

He claps then joins in with a, “Tada!” of his own, and this time the pose is dynamic as you each shoot off a finger gun.

“Ta–”

“Just go!” Joshua yells from the kitchen.

The apartment vibrates with laughter. Seokmin shoots his finger guns off toward Joshua, a brilliant grin plastered on his face which soon falls into a grimace. He flops onto the couch, yelling about how he’s hit and that you should save yourselves. You don’t need to be told twice. Entwining your arm with Soonyoung’s, you skip over the threshold and shut the door behind you.

“That was close,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder and wiping away nonexistent sweat from your forehead.

Soonyoung’s free hand slips into his jacket pocket. It reemerges with a delicate yellow rose. "This is for you. If you want it."

The soothing scent of its petals kisses your senses long before you lean in to breathe it deep. You close your eyes and indulge the gentle floral paradise. When you ground yourself back in the wondrous now, Soonyoung is watching you with a curious expression that morphs into a playful smile. He’s still holding the rose but you’re quick to remedy that.

"Of course I do, you cute little cheesy moon!" you swoon before pressing a chaste kiss on his cheek.

The front door swings back open and Seokmin gasps. “They’re making out out here.”

What a tattletale!

Joshua’s response drifts through the open door. “Tell them not to come back.”

“Turns out we have enough to make dinner for us two here but you two will have to eat at the restaurant, together, alone, without us,” Seokmin says with a forced, exaggerated frown. “Enjoy yourselves! But not too much. Not where everyone can see.”

“Thank you,” you groan before tugging Soonyoung down the hall.

“Be safe! We’ll miss you but not as much as you’ll miss us probably!”

“I always miss you, bro!” Soonyoung shouts, looking wistfully back over his shoulder one last time before you turn the corner with him.

“That guy,” you say, your tone uneven with laughter.

“Are you ready to have the best Yellow Day ever?!”

His sudden excitement shocks you and you’re nodding along to his enthusiasm even while your brain catches up. “Yeah!”

“Are you ready to have the best curry ever?!”

“Yeah!” You pause. “But won’t it taste the same as it always does?”

“What? No way!” he says, booping you on the nose. “This is the first time we’re getting the curry together, as a pair. Like a–”

“Couple!”

“So it’ll taste even more–”

“Lovely!”

“Yeah!” he cheers, raising both hands for a double high-five.

You complete the high-five with your own, ‘yeah!’.

“Then what are we waiting for?” He beams at you and the whole world pauses as he repositions the cap on your head. “Onward to our date!”

– If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you! ♡

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ingravinoveritas · 10 months

Note

David Tennant stroking another man’s hair, flirting with Alex Brooker, singing about a vibrator, wearing that wig and dancing and swinging his hips like that and finally, MICHAEL SHEEN MENTION. Bragging about being above Michael in the Dilf list like a little brat like WOW he’s about to get his ass spanked tonight

I am honestly so living for David bringing out his bratty bottom side, which I feel like is a side we don't get to see nearly often enough...

(Also, for those who haven't seen the full video of David's appearance on TLL, you can watch it on Youtube here.)

I know the moment in the gif above is supposed to be him as Gwyneth Paltrow, but all I was getting was campy, bisexual British Kurt Cobain, right down to the jumper (which oddly does look like something Kurt would've worn in the grunge era). And we can't remotely overlook the fact that David was wearing rainbow/pride gear from head to toe tonight, from the rainbow buttons on his shirt (you can see them under the jumper) to the Tardis trans pride flag pin all the way down to his rainbow socks...

And then, of course, there was the Michael mention. At this point, it honestly feels like whatever is happening between them is a big open secret (at the very least, I have a strong feeling the host Adam knows, and probably also Josh Widdicome), because it is impossible anymore to have one on as a guest without bringing up the other. In this case, it almost felt like the DILF of the Year competition was another excuse to mention Michael, and then to see David fully preening over outranking him was just...beyond glorious.

As to the aforementioned spanking, I fully concur with you. There's something in particular about this show, knowing that it was filmed live, and it's almost as if David behaved as bratty as he did because he knew a certain Welshman would be watching (giving very similar vibes to when David was on the Late Late Show in 2021). I can already so clearly picture the exchange between them after this (hopefully immediately after, since Michael is still in London and David could readily have gone to see him once the taping ended)...

"I'm more DILFy--DILFy, is that a word? Hmm--than you, Michael. According to the Internet people, that is." "Mmh. Yes, the all-wise, all-knowing Internet people." "You don't agree?" "Brat." "Ah, but you love me." "Don't think I could stop if I wanted to." "So you don't mind that the Internet thinks I'm more of a DILF than you?" "I think I'm the one who gets to fuck you, so the Internet can get bloody stuffed." "Funny, I was rather hoping I'd get stuffed right about now." "Cheeky slag. Turn around and take your trousers off." "You're so easy, Michael." "Shut up, Dai."

So yes, David's appearance on The Last Leg tonight was certainly quite something. I truly love seeing that part of him come alive, the part that he once spoke of in an interview where he talked about being a little boy and putting a towel on his head to entertain his classmates. I think deep inside, David has never stopped being that little boy, and there is something so special about seeing that part of him getting to be free.

Definitely hoping as well that we might get to see/hear Michael's reaction to all of this, but he still seems a bit quiet on Twitter these days (and if he's busy spending long nights with David, one can hardly blame him). I suppose we'll just have to see what happens...

#phantomstars24 #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the last leg #david your bratty bottom is showing #some people hold up a rainbow flag. David Tennant turns himself into one.#i just love seeing him happy #this was seriously one of his queerest TV appearances to date i would say though #performing for an audience of one #why does this seem so plausible though #david is lowkey bi and michael is highkey bi #amazing #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse #gif by me

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severussquick · 9 months

Text

Welcome to my little fic rec event that I just made up! I have decided to put together a month of fics that I really loved and share them with you - one per day!

Each day of the week is themed, and you can see what kind of a story is coming from the calendar below. I'll keep this post updated with links to each rec post as they come out, so if you miss one you can always check back here.

The posts will go out at 8am NZDT/11am PST/2pm EST/8pm CET which means that for most of you I am posting from the future! Don't worry about it, you'll catch up!

The Themes!

I have chosen these themes for the fics I want to rec because when I looked through my bookmarks, subscriptions, and history there were some definite patterns. Many MANY fics are still sitting in my to-rec pile so if you all like this let me know and I'll do another.

Bottom Snape

Self explanatory! It's Snape as a bottom, I adore this and very much wanted to share my favourites with you!

Time Travel

Oh Boy Am I A Sucker For Time Travel Stories!!!!! It's so bad I actually had to draw the line and disqualify Time Loop stories from consideration or else you'd have gotten a Month Of Time Travel! I'll do the loops next time.

Voldemort Wins AU

I really like these, they're always so fascinating with how they portray 'victory' for the Death Eaters (spoilers - it always sucks So So Bad). Most of these are pretty Dark so heed the tags.

FemSnape

Snape! But a woman! That's it. That's the category. These particular fics I'm recommending are classic gender-bends, not Trans Snapes, just FYI.

Marriage Law

Probably only second to Time Travel in terms of Tags I Am On The Hunt For. I am a sucker for these. It's a bottle episode, but the bottle is a marriage! Love that!

Genfic

Stories focused on Snape and only Snape, character studies and such. I love these and they can be hard to find!

Long Reads

Over 100k and not falling into another category. I like to read epics so I cannot promise that the other categories AREN'T long....

Severitus

Named after the host of that one challenge way back when, this tag means that Snape is Harry's parental figure or mentor. Some feature a pre-Hoqwarts Harry, some don't, but in all of them Harry and Snape have a father-son style relationship.

Week 1:

Monday - Bottom Snape: When Dreams Come True

Tuesday - Time Travel: Elective Affinities

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: The Snidget

Thursday - Marriage Law: Legislation

Friday - Genfic: Two Hours Late

Saturday - Long Read: Chasing the Sun

Sunday - Severitus: Grease & Lightning

Week 2:

Monday - Bottom Snape: Where Have You Been

Tuesday - Time Travel: Time Mutable Immutable

Wednesday - FemSnape: Equal and Opposite

Thursday - Marriage Law: The "not-so-little" Problem

Friday - Genfic: Repast at the Table of Glorious Toxins

Saturday - Long Read: Assisted Living

Sunday - Severitus: Time Left Today

Week 3:

Monday - Bottom Snape: In Perpetuity

Tuesday - Time Travel: Falling Apart

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: A Fighting Heart

Thursday - Marriage Law: We'll Fall Quietly

Friday - Genfic: Where Loyalties Lie

Saturday - Long Read: Come Once Again and Love Me

Sunday - Severitus: O Mine Enemy

Week 4:

Monday - Bottom Snape: Tonight

Tuesday - Time Travel: How Should I Greet Thee

Wednesday - FemSnape: Lady Lazarus

Thursday - Marriage Law: Happily Ever After The Fact

Friday - Genfic: Penultimate Acts

Saturday - Long Read: A Dream Carved In Stone

Sunday - Severitus: Far Beyond a Promise Kept

Week 5:

Monday - Bottom Snape: The Second-Youngest Professor

Tuesday - Time Travel: The Bat Effect

Wednesday - Voldemort Wins AU: In his embrace

#fic rec #severus snape #severussquick recs

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pixydustworld · 1 year

Text

At Ginny Weasley's 25th birthday party, Hermione found out 2 things:

1. Ron was dating Theo, which was an uneventful reveal ("No gasps?" Theo complained, "I almost got the mark! I'm dangerous!").

2. Pansy had invited Draco Malfoy.

And he had shown up.

“Thank you so much for coming.” Ginny sighed, sounding like she was about to cry, an empty glass clutched in her tiny fingers, “I love you.”

Pansy nodded enthusiastically, arms wrapped around Ginny’s middle, lipstick smeared beyond repair. “We waited to cut the cake for you!”

Behind the two of them, the cake sat pristine — untouched, 25 lit candles balancing precariously around the edge. A definite fire hazard, Hermione decided.

“Sorry I’m late,” Hermione said, digging Ginny’s present out of her bag (new wand holster!) “Collins kept me in his office after a meeting.”

“Did he try to kiss you again?” Ginny said loudly, “Do you want Pansy and I to ruin his life?”

“We can fuck his dad.” Pansy agreed. “Become his stepmother. Ground him.”

“He’s 45.” Hermione said flatly, “And I’m fairly confident his father is dead.”

“Well,” Ginny pouted, attention quickly drifting to her fiancée, trailing tiny little kitten licks up Pansy’s neck, “If you don’t let us do something, someone else will do much worse.”

“I don’t need to be taken care of.” Hermione argued, ignoring that last bit, “I can actually be quite scary.”

Pansy smiled, but it seemed a bit forced. “You’re very small.”

“Like a chihuahua.” Theo said, snuggled up to Ron’s side, voice slightly muffled.

“But a feral one.” Ron said helpfully, like that made everything better. “One that bites ankles.”

“Let’s cut the cake, shall we?” Hermione said. Out of the corner of her eye she could see several candles oozing off the top, a definite flaw in the structural integrity of the cake. “You all have waited long enough!”

The evening went on, in glorious delight. Hermione was almost able to ignore the way Malfoy was watching her, until he cornered her in the kitchen.

Alone, with only a stack of dirty dishes to witness their conversation.

“Hello!” She said, voice a bit too cheery for the dark look on his face, “Can you believe Luna is dating George Weasley? Quite the plot twist, if you ask me — ”

“You didn’t tell me Collins tried to kiss you.”

“I didn’t.” Hermione agreed. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “Capable in all avenues of your life? Don’t need me to fuck you anymore?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That is not what I said.”

“Am I allowed to kill him?”

Before, she would’ve laughed, watched as his eyes glittered until they melted, until he laughed, too. But now, after fucking him for six and half months, Hermione knew the unfortunate truth: Malfoy was not joking. He never had been.

He was overly dramatic (the buckbeak incident from third year still was occasionally mentioned) but also quite sincere about his threats. A terrible combination, Hermione found.

Hermione shook her head solemnly. “No.” She said, “You are not.”

“Figured I should ask permission. You can punish me later.”

She caught his wrist. “Draco.” Hermione said softly, “Don’t be dramatic.”

He feigned a gasp. “I’m not doing anything.” Which was currently true. All he was doing was looking down at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“I’m just annoyed that my girlf—” he hesitated, and Hermione glanced away. So casually cruel, dangling that word out in front of her when he didn’t actually mean it.

“My person,” he continued “didn’t tell me that Collins from work, who is quite possibly the worst individual I’ve ever met, has tried, on what seems to be multiple occasions, to kiss her.”

“I don’t need anyone to take care of me. I can do that myself.” Hermione hissed. “Once, I punched Harry. He got a bloody nose!”

(She did not mention that said punch had been an accident, and she had cried about giving Harry a bloody nose for roughly 15 minutes after it happened. Harry had to console her, it had been, for a lack of better words: a mess.)

“I know you can,” Malfoy nodded, his smile, as always, a little mean, “But taking care of you is one of my favorite things to do. Those duties extend to light amounts of assault.”

“No need,” Hermione said primly, “I jinxed his balls to his left kneecap.”

Malfoy winced. “Effective,” he said, “my murderous little chihuahua.”

The air seemed to grow thicker, the muted silence stretching between them. Like clockwork, Hermione felt her eyes darting to his mouth, felt her skin prickling with a familiar heat. It felt, almost, as if she was someone else whenever he was around — a different version of herself, desperate for only his attention, longing for his approval.

Malfoy’s eyes were soft as he looked down at her, hands on either side of her, skin warm to the touch. Hermione wondered how he managed to keep all his softness sacred to only her.

Their first time had been a blur of sharp teeth and bruised flesh. He’d fucked her on the floor of her office, skirts rucked around her waist, whispered filthy words in her ear. In return, she had bit his neck until blood trickled down his flesh, smeared across her lips, the taste of copper mixing with the salt of their sweat.

After, when he’d tucked himself around her frame, holding her whole body, Hermione realized she liked this, too.

To sink into his embrace, to allow him to hold the weight of her bones. It had been bliss unlike anything she’d ever experienced, a freedom of thought; the world had been soft and quiet, his body a barrier between her and the noise.

The second and third time had happened in the same way: a challenge, someone to meet it — a broom closet, her groans blocked by his thumb heavy on her tongue, his face twisted in pleasure as he sunk inside her, inch by inch; a stolen moment in the bathroom of a crowded pub, his fingers tight in her hair, her hands pressed against the cool tile as he had pounded her from the back, grinning at her friends moments later, his cum dripping down her thighs.

But after that, they slipped into something more. His softness grew beyond the moments after they’d fucked, uncontained; she saw it in his eyes when she spoke, felt it when he guided her along the street, hand warm on her lower back.

And here they were, six and a half months later, the same feelings fresh, evergreen. It always felt a bit like the first time with him, limbs trembling, skin flushed; mind blissfully empty.

Malfoy touched her face, bringing her back to the kitchen, to the present, to the soft sounds of the party in the room next door. Back to him, and his inescapable warmth. He tilted his head to the side. Waiting.

Hermione nodded.

“Stick out your tongue.” He said, voice soft.

Heart hammering, Hermione did just that. Watched, in frozen anticipation, as Malfoy leaned over her frame, his front pressed tightly to her own, and spit into her mouth.

Wet and sloppy, dribbling off the edge of her tongue.

His fingers slipped under her skirt, flipping it over her stomach, tugging her knickers down her thighs, eyes hard on her trembling tongue. “Good,” he whispered when he found her wet, dripping down her thighs. “Spit.”

Hermione's eyes fluttered as she lowered her tongue. His saliva — her own, now — dripping down to land on her exposed cunt, joining the mess he created.

At the same time as he slipped his fingers between her legs, he pressed his other fingers into her mouth, muffling her whimpers.

“Keep you stuffed on both ends,” he whispered, thumb pressing down on her tongue, three fingers sunk into her cunt, “Nice and full.”

A muffled sound came from behind the cracked door. “I’ll get more fire whiskey!” Theo’s drunken voice cut through the murkiness of Hermione’s mind. slicing through the kitchen with the effectiveness of only the best cooking knives, “There’s got to me more inside the cabinet!”

Malfoy was hunched over her, his entire body curved around her back, fingers stilling inside her cunt. She felt his muscles tense, preparing to pull his fingers out, but her own tightened around his wrist, keeping him trapped. Within her, above her, inside her.

The door knob twitched, but then, Ron’s voice — “No, baby, I found another one. Under Harry’s head, he’s using it as a pillow, but I think we can take it —”

She hurried to release him, to set him free, to appear unaffected and pretend like she hadn’t clutched his arm tighter at the thought of someone catching them but it was already too late.

“Shy, all the sudden?” He whispered, teeth grazing her flesh, thumb finding her clit, pressing through the wetness.

“Do you want me to fuck you in front of all of our friends? Would that make you happy?” Hermione had a terrible feeling he would do it, too. Split her open for all to see — and that she’d let him.

“At least,” She gasped around his fingers, tongue thick, spit dripping down her neck, “then they’d know about us.”

He froze above her.

“What?” He took his fingers out of her mouth, and her traitorous tongue followed the line of spit.

“I said,” Hermione repeated in a voice that could be interpreted as petulant, “at least, everyone would know about us.”

“You don’t want anyone to know about us.”

Hermione scoffed. “No,” she said, “You are the one who doesn't want any of our friends to know — ”

“Come on, angel.” Malfoy said, eyes serious. “Think for me. Use that beautiful brain. When have I ever said that I didn’t want people to know about us? If you allowed me, I would tell the entire world that you let me fuck you. That you let me worship at your altar, take care of your every need. It would be the only thing I spoke about.”

“No,” Hermione whined, thoughts thick and heavy in her brain, she could still feel his unmoving fingers inside of her, “That. That’s not true, you said let’s just keep it between us.”

“As in, let's keep sex between us.” He squinted down at her in the yellow light of the kitchen. “Are you fucking other people? I’d like a list.”

“There isn’t a list.”

“I wasn’t clear before,” Malfoy was saying with great effort, “That is my fault, but please, allow me to be clear now. I’d like to be the only person you have sex with. If you’d have me.”

“When would I even have time to have sex with other people?”

He frowned. “I just said something very romantic.”

Hermione waved her hand, “Yes, very romantic, but — you sleep in my bed. With me. Every night. When do you think I’m hypothetically finding the time to fuck other people?”

A horrible thought occurred, “Have you been sleeping with other people?”

Malfoy recoiled as if she’d slapped him. “I think about fucking you all the time. Always you.” He said, looking a bit mad. “If you’re not beside me, I wait, like a dog at the door for your return. I am at your disposal. I am yours to use, to keep, to toss away — there is nothing, nothing I’d refuse, if only you asked.”

Heart in her throat, Hermione asked: “You want more?”

“I want everything.”

Hermione nodded. “You can have it.” She said, the grin on her face too bright for the dim kitchen, “I want all that you are, too.”

Malfoy let out a shaky exhale. “Later, we’ll tell everyone. I’ll become a nuisance to casual conversation, with the amount I’ll mention you. But, I’m going to fuck you now, alright? Will that be a problem?”

Hermione shook her head, stomach squirming. With more than just arousal, she realized.

Excitement was brewing — he wanted her, just as much as she did. Wanted the sleepy evenings and lazy mornings. Wanted to sit beside her at the pub, hand on her thigh for all to see; wanted to be her date to exhausting ministry galas, wanted to be seen. Wanted everyone to know.

“No,” she gasped as he pressed in to her, “That won’t be a problem.”

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uchihaharlot · 8 months

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I have a question, what do you think of Obito/Tobi?

Hello nonny 😌🥹

You are my first ask on this blog 🥳🎉 And it’s of my beloved Obito/Tobi. 😍 Obito forever will be a gentle giant in my eyes with a side of fucking you stupid. Save that for another day. I will distinguish between the two personalities best I can. I feel like, aside from the mask hiding his identity, it was easier for him to be who he wanted to be in Tobi without the pressure.

Some sfw with mild suggestive themes Obito/Tobi headcanons:

Obito:

• Despite his role in bringing near world domination, he’s a lover not a fighter. After all the whole reason he went awol was because of Rin and Madara’s influence.

• Very easily manipulated. ☺️😅 Sorry Obito, he just is so gullible half majority the time. He doesn’t know any better, Madara completely lobotomized him from a young age to be his pawn after he died. A patsy for his own gain for Madara’s return from death.

• Definitely died virginal. Unless he fucked a white Zetsu, and as a teen he wasn’t very explorative given the seclusion and watchful eye of old man Madara. Plus he was focused on healing and growing half his damn body back. Plus, he didn’t look like himself anymore which probably gave him a bit of body dysmorphia and fed his insecurities.

• Genuinely believed he was being led the correct path in life. That he didn’t need anyone or the village — just Madara (especially didn’t need that Bakashi!!).

• Like majority of the men who are traumatized in this series, Obito can’t sleep at night. Late at night the inner confines of his mind play psychological warfare and close in on himself. ‘Am I doing the right thing?’ ‘Will this really make me feel better?’ ‘Will peace come once the dust settles?’

• Holds in his emotions until they crush him, figuratively and literally. Then he really carries the mantra of ‘burdened with glorious purpose.’ It replaces the heart on his sleeve and that’s when he hardens — or he thinks.

• Seeing Rin die definitely was that final straw and at the hands of Kakashi without any preemptive warning on the situation at hand. This is where Obito does a 180 and harnesses that resolve to carryon Madara’s will. Which is where Tobi comes out.

Tobi:

• Let’s see. I think when Obito designed became prisoner to this persona, it was a coping mechanism. Tobi was one way to get around his turmoil and needing a disguise was the perfect way to avoid dealing with deep seated issues. Win/win/???.

• It makes keeping a distance from the other Akatsuki members easier. Tobi doesn’t want to talk about his trauma or about his family’s history. When Itachi joins it’s imperative that the rest don’t know his secret. What trauma? He’s a new man in this new little world he’s made.

• Which is why in the beginning he’s such a butterball of feigned ignorant bliss. Obito never had the chance at a real childhood so what better way than to live that vicariously through his second ego?

• It also boosted his confidence, tremendously. Being an authoritative figure hiding within the ranks of a hand basket of deplorables made him deliciously confident. He can’t pinpoint why exactly, but having the Akatsuki on the string of his tennis shoe like puppets is an ego boost. It’s an added bonus that most are unsuspecting.

• I think Tobi sleeps most nights peacefully, not always though. Still has these moments of uncertainty, like that meme of your brain before going to bed and it spouts off some shit you’d rather not spend the night debating with yourself about. That still happens to Tobi but not as frequently as when it was Obito in the cockpit of his psyche.

• At the end of the day; we all have a face that we would hide. The face of a stranger, and when it comes to Tobi, Obito is his dead name — he doesn’t recognize much beyond the hurt that got him to where he was today. Letting it fester and further infect his brain. What did they call it? The curse of hatred: Obito is the poster child for this. Sure Sasuke would be a runner up but Sasuke literally chose the path of vengeance, Obito was molded by it. Tobi is the darkness and Obito became a prior life.

#obito headcanons #obito uchiha #uchiha obito #tobi akatsuki #akatsuki #uchiha clan #obito #naruto obito

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meadowziplines · 7 months

Text

#IFD2024 Feedback Fest / Femslash February Recs: 10 Femslash Sandman Fic Recs

I have not provided additional cw’s beyond what is in the summary; please check work tags before reading.

Feel free to tag in authors whose Tumblr handles I don’t know!

(G-M)

[G] New Dreams, New Age by AlphaScorpiixx (1k) (Gault/Lucienne): Gault. Lucienne had spoken true to Dream. She never trusted the shapeshifter Gault. Dream had agreed with her, claiming it wasn’t the nightmare’s nature to be trustworthy. Now, with Dream about to pronounce his punishment on her, Lucienne couldn’t stop staring at the expressions on Gault’s face.

[G] Trials of a Shapeshifter in Love by tryan_a_bex (1.9k) (Gault/Lucienne): “Lucienne has been working so hard lately,” Gault explained to the Dream King’s head cook. “I’d like to do something nice for her. I was thinking a surprise romantic dinner over candlelight in the library.”

[G] todas tus luces (all your lights) by marveling_under_an_open_sky (@two-hands-toward-the-sun) (1.2k) (Gault/Calliope): Calliope had always seen people’s creations as facets of their own selves, was drawn to people according to the work of their hands and hearts. And Gault created beautiful, powerful things for the dreamers she held so dear.

*lovingly yeets another femslash rarepair into the pile*

[T] our place in the sun by marveling_under_an_open_sky/(@two-hands-toward-the-sun) (1.6k) (Calliope/Lucienne): “Oh, my love.” Laughter bubbled out of Lucienne’s throat, and she felt so light; no, she amended to herself, she felt heavy with the weight of the woman she loved and who loved her, and it was glorious.

Calliope planted her hands into the mattress on either side of Lucienne’s torso and lifted herself up a little to look down at her, eyes sparkling. The fabric of her pyjamas was soft against Lucienne’s front. Calliope leant down, hair tumbling over her shoulders, and tasted Lucienne’s mirth with her own mouth, savouring it like it was honey, like it was the finest dessert at a queen’s royal table.

I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH OKAY

[T] Flirting with Death by honeyteacakes/@honeyteacakes (5.6k) (Death/Johanna): “Strange,” the woman replied, looking at Johanna thoughtfully. “Normally I don’t meet people until they’re ready to leave with me, but you’ve got time yet.”

“Might be less time than you think. Mind phoning an ambulance, love?”

Johanna keeps getting her ass kicked. Coincidentally, she keeps running into the same beautiful woman. Those things probably aren’t related, right?

(Recommended for those who want to see Johanna be a pathetic little meow-meow and for those who think Kirby Howell-Baptiste might be one of the most beautiful women alive.)

[T] Birds and Bees in the Belfry by Karalyn/@karalynlovescake (1.3k) (Delirium of the Endless/Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn): When you're in an odd three-way relationship with the anthropomorphic personification of delight and delirium, you don’t get to choose your own pet names.

[M] Starts and Stops by goblininawig (11.5k) (Calliope/Johanna): Constantine just wanted to be paid, not to get involved with a mythical entity. Calliope just wanted to be free, not to fall in love again. But that's exactly what happened.

(E)

[E] Right Hand Ladies by Karalyn (2.1k) (Lucienne/Mazikeen): While waiting for their respective bosses to finish their “meeting of state” (a thinly veiled excuse for them to hook up,) Lucienne and Mazikeen commiserate about their jobs, their respective lords, and find an enjoyable way to pass the time.

[E] Sea Change by Cafephile (3.1k) (Gault/Lucienne): "What brings you here, Gault? Not that I am not glad of your company," Lucienne hastens to add because it is true, and she would not want the dream to feel unwelcome.

"Are you?" Gault asks. "You never seemed to like me much before."

Gault visits Lucienne in the library to clear the air. They end up doing far more than that.

[E] East of everywhere is Hell (7.6k) (Ric the Vic/Johanna): Written for the Sandman Femslash Weekend prompt: Meet-Ugly

The day Erica Patel (Ric to everyone except official bureaucracies) learned that, contrary to every rational instinct she had, demons were in fact real and able to possess people, was unfortunately also the day she met Johanna Constantine. At the moment it was a tossup which part made the day worse.

----

(the 10 other fandoms fic rec list is still coming)

also check out the whole sandman femslash weekend collection on ao3 and the tumblr blog dedicated to sandman femslash, @sandmanfemslashfans!

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youcantdateosmosisjones · 10 months

Text

"You were a wonderful experience"

"You were... everything"

except I'm a complete liar and that's not even remotely them, but listen anyways

Spreaver, except it's Sparrow who's in the mindset of "it physically pains me to admit how much I'm intrigued and tempted by the idea of chasing desire, but considering how I've devoted my entire life to saving Albion- and now that I've got 2 kids and a kingdom to carry the responsibility of- I could never disregard the sacrifices I've made in the name of the greater good. Especially to someone like you. As Theresa has said to me countless times, my destiny is to become something for the people. That is my burden to carry, and something that I will live by indefinitely. Me and you both understand that weight, despite how we refuse to acknowledge that. We are both heros, after all- And we are the only ones left of our little quartet. I do take such comfort in the knowledge that I am human, and that I can't always be my image- That even you, as deplorable as you are, can, too, be human (as imperfect and needlessly complicated as they come). It is something that's become unfamiliar to me as of late. I never regretted whatever it was we had, despite how little it actually meant in the moment. Typically as just another way to deal with your presence without just killing you right then and there- but nonetheless gave me the same level of emotional release. We were both equals, and knew the others limits, I suppose. How far to push- what spots were sore- and just which buttons to press. We both knew the game, and we played- and it was the most mindless, yet instinctive thing I did for quite a few years. It was one of the few things that still made me feel as though I was living a life I could've had... But that will never happen. The only way I know how to make up for the countless lives lost since that fateful day, is to repay them with my own. I still can't shake the feeling of selfishness in my actions in acknowledging you. A Hero- and especially a Monarch- should not be one to indulge, after all. For that, I could never choose a life like yours- nor you. You were never meant to be apart of this; not for long."

And Reaver, who's currently like "You have been quite possibly one of the only conquests of mine that has made me feel alive in the past 200 or so years. There was always the knowledge with us that either one could end the other, which was a feeling I had not known from any other noticeable person (except Lucien, maybe). However, you still wouldn't actively turn your back on me whenever you had the chance. Why ever you did that, I found it of the utmost excitement. Whether it was your power; status; place in society; reputation; or some other grandiose factor that made you so alluring (as many other countless material items have been to me over my life), I still feel as though you were perhaps an equal to me. I'll admit how much potential I saw in utilizing that- I am an opportunist, after all- and yet I still didn't... why I let you become such an obstacle to me, I'll never know. I upped my typical antics in the hopes you'd take an issue with them- I did love our petty banter- but your refusal to respond beyond small petty gestures just made it more of a challenge. And even despite how you so unkindly usurped me, I still made an effort to prove that it meant nothing to me; that'd I was still as glorious as ever. I was Reaver; and no matter how much of a problem it posed to your kingdom, I'd still be right here; unscathed. You were an irritating- unpredictable- and such an unlikely source of such inconvenience to my plans. Perhaps that is why I was so prepared to see you fail... Perhaps that's why I still think of you from time to time, knowing that didn't happen. Not that I'll ever admit such a fact, knowing what you know about me. Still, in the wake of your passing, I feel as though it was all for nothing. That reoccurring thought, that all my countless endeavors somehow didn't make my sacrifices worth the life I gave up so much to live for, resurfaced, just then. I mean- if I couldn't even get back at you for having such an impact on me (my reputation, my empire, my house!! Need I even go on?), why did I ever spend that much effort on you in the first place? Why on earth I let you become something in my mind, I'll never forgive myself for. No... I'd never do that. I'll never forgive you. And for that crime, you will never be a name I bring up again; Stripped of any illusion of significance. In order to completely forget such troubling revelations, I've decided to once again indulge in the short-lived highs of excitement and exploits. In fact, I'll take advantage of this new era and make a name for myself- A proper one. The only way to drive those dreadful thoughts away is to prove them wrong, after all. Meaning: I'll build a new empire for myself. A far grander one. Perhaps, reaching the status you once possessed will finally erase you from such universal importance."

They're so toxic, they've started to rot my brain

I'm a 'petty, stubborn, shallow (masking his deep intellectualism and the torment) bitch' reaver x 'unbothered, "fuck it we ball" (deeply traumatized and not coping as well as they thought they were), throws chairs indiana jones style; sparrow' preacher

#fable rambles #fable 2 #fable 3 #?#if you squint #fable reaver #fable sparrow #hero of bowerstone #Spreaver #no #theyre not in love #but i dont think #people who dont feel anything towards eachother #make such intense eye contact during consensual fun times #then again #they literally just feed off of mutual spite #who knows #maybe theyre trying to see who blinks first

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rendy-a · 11 months

Note

Hello darling! Congrats on 500 followers! I love your work (⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠) For the event, how about your favourite character and a theme of your choice?

I think I’ve been getting burnt out trying to write so many stories of the same theme for my event so, I’m happy to say that this is the final story of the event! After this, I’ll dust off my old inbox and see what’s been sitting out there.

For this request, I’ve decided to change things up and give some attention to the staff of NRC! I just love the way the students interacted with Trein in the Glorious Masquerade event. We need some more banter like that, so…here you go!

The lights dimmed as each glowing magical lantern was turned to a lower brightness on the chandelier. The echo of footsteps slowly faded as the departing students left first the reception room and then the hallways beyond. After what felt like months of hard work, it was finally over. The goodwill dance between magical academies was over. Royal Sword students would be heading back to the southern part of Sage Island right now to sleep in their own beds while Fair Maiden students would spend one last night guesting in makeshift dormitories at NRC before leaving in the morning.

“That could have been worse,” Sam chuckled as he sat at a table, “The little imps in my day had a lot more fire in them.” Vargas came to join him, “I’m sure it was my rousing physical education that tempered their energy! Now they are headed to bed to get enough sleep to turn that muscle building effort into results!” The beaming smile Vargas gives causes Sam to smile politely in return before sliding to the far end of the table. “I’m just glad its over,” mutters Trein as he massages his back, “I’m not as young as I used to be, and these things take a lot out of me.” Crewel takes a cigarette out of a case and sets it in his mouth, “Were you ever young to begin with?” Trien thought him a disapproving glare, first at the comment and then at the unlit cigarette. Crewel signs and returns it to the case unlit.

“Now, now,” the overly cheerful voice of Crowley beams, “Let’s not get too overexcited. There is still clean-up to be done!” He claps his hands and gestures to the room. “Why didn’t you have student do this?” Crewel asks in a deadpan voice. “Exactly! This is just the sort of character-building physical labor young people need!” agrees Vargas. “Ah, well,” Crowley begins before trailing off. “It’s Ambrose, isn’t it?” Trein asks knowingly. “Ah! What do you accuse me of! Just because that windbag brags about how much he cares for his students, that I let the children off the hook?” Crowley backpedals, “It is only because I am SO KIND that I thought to give the students time to recover before classes in the morning. YES! Because I care SO MUCH about their education! Ah ha! Ha!” No one quite believes the headmaster’s story, yet they admit it is rather late to keep the young students up.

The silence settles for a moment, then Crewel kicks a broom and utters, “Ah, shit,” under his breath. As if waiting for that exact moment, Sam tips his hat and widens his smile into a beaming customer service grin, “If easy clean-up is what you are searching for, I have several self-sweeping brooms that are IN STOCK NOW!” Trein looks at him with a simple raised eyebrow, “You happen to have several brooms in your possession at this very moment?” Sam nods with a gleaming smile. “How convenient for you,” Trein remarks. Then all the staff look to Crowley as though to say, ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ Crowley sighs but senses his defeat and agrees to the purchase. “Is there ever a time when you aren’t prepared to wring the madol out of a situation?” he laments as he gazes at his upraised hands forlornly. Sam smiles knowingly but does not reply.

He passes a broom to Vargas who waves it away, “You can’t build muscles with shortcuts!” He then picks up a standard broom and sweeps in a furious flurry. A cloud of dust kicks up, causing Crewel to cough and ask in an annoyed voice, “Must you always carry on so?” Vargas gives him a beaming smile, “I see we are both reminiscing on the same thing. Ah, our shared youth!” Crewel again rolls his eyes, but the statement has caught the attention of the others. “Shared youth?” asks Sam in a leading tone, “Did you know each other when you were young?”

Crewel snorts, “Nothing as intimate as that. We simply both attended Night Raven at the same time.” Vargas gives the aggravated professor a hearty pat on the back, “Yes! Crewel was my Senior! I was in my first year when he was a third-year student.” Crowley gives them a curious look, “That wasn’t a development I was expecting.” Trein looks at him in disappointment, “You were headmaster even then. Shouldn’t you know these things?” Crowley starts, surprised at being called out for his shortcomings, “Ah, why yes. Yes, of course I recall. All the fine days you spent together in your dorm and classes. Ah ha ha!” Crewel drawls, “We were in different dorms.” Crowley gazes around nervously and alights on a table of food, “Ah, the food has been left sitting out! What a dangerous hazard to our students’ safety! I must rectify this at once. AT ONCE!” Then he quickly hurries away, avoiding the conversation and answering for his amazingly bad memory.

“You did know each other though,” Trein smiles in an amused way. Sam seems to catch on to the fact that there is some sort of story there and leans in, as though inviting him to share more details. “It was at the campus wide dance, if I recall correctly,” Trein remarks. “Ah yes!” Vargas picks up the narrative, “I hoisted him on my shoulders so everyone could admire the marvelous upper-body strength I had. There was a good deal of cheering for me, as I recall.” Vargas finishes proudly and flashes Sam a toothy smile. Crewel gives him a disdainful look, “They were cheering for me.” Sam gives Trein a look as though to say, ‘Let’s get an impartial opinion in here.’

Trein sighs and says, “As I recall, young Divus was named Prom King and a girl from the visiting academy was to be Prom Queen. However, someone thought she wasn’t worthy of the honor and stole both crowns; declaring himself both Prom King and Queen.” Crewel smiles in a way that is not at all apologetic, “You want to wear the crown, you must put in the work. I’ll not let a mangey cur stand at my side.” Trein finishes in a weary tone, “After stealing her crown and being carted around by other miscreants,” Trein gives Vargas a look, “We had to end the dance early and send several very upset young ladies home by mirror that very night.”

Sam has a good laugh with Vargas and Crewel while Trein continues to look disapproving. “The hearts of young maidens are nothing to be trifled with.” Sam nudges the stiff professor with an elbow, “So the hearts of girls are a specialty of yours, Mr. Romantic?” Crewel barks a harsh laugh, “By calling it ‘girls,’ you’re being a bit too generous, it’s really only the one, eh? Actually, didn’t you mention you took your wife to this dance when you were young?” Trein lets out an offended ‘harumph’ and turns his back to the rowdy young staff members. As he cleans the table, a small smile graces his lips.

“Nice memory, huh?” Vargas asks loudly. Trein looks up and sighs, “Yes, I took my wife to this dance. It was our first date.” He smiles again, as though remembering something special to him. “When the bells chimed midnight, I gave her a flower and promised to take her to the City of Flowers someday.” Vargas gives a hearty laugh, “Ha! Its like hearing about history in person!” Trein gives him an extremely offended look before searching out Crowley, “I’m hardly the oldest person on the staff. Speaking of which, I believe we are done here.”

Crowley sits in a dark corner gazing out a window, avoiding both notice and work. Crewel picks up his pointer and gives it a loud crack across his hand, causing the crow fae to jump at the sudden sound. “Aaahhh! I…I mean, ah! I see you’ve finished. Ah ha ha!” he finishes in a very unconvincing way. The teachers share a look between them. “Well,” Sam beings slowly, “I think that’s all the profit left to reap tonight. Unless you’d like to share some reminiscences with us about your own dancing days. Perhaps you have your own romantic story to share.” Trein scoffs and Crewel chuckles under his breath. Vargas however, doesn’t pick up on the joke and jovially exclaims, “Yes Headmaster, why don’t you share some tale of your own with us.”

Crowley looks startled at the suggestion, which further amuses most of the gathered staff. Sam laughs good-naturedly and pats the clueless coach on the back, “Let’s go Ashton, I’ll explain it to you on the way out.” The staff begin the journey home and, before leaving, Crewel snaps his fingers and extinguishes the lights in the cafeteria. Crowely says nothing, watching them depart and leave him alone in the not-quite ballroom. Tomorrow, perhaps it will return to being just a cafeteria. Tonight though, Crowley sat for the second time in his life alone in a darkened ballroom. The memory of dances past comes to him and he gazes again out the window at the unreachable moon. There were balls held in the dead of night among the dark fae courts when he was a much younger crow and less weary of life. Perhaps, he’d even be willing to share those stories someday with those that should know. For now, he’d keep them quietly in his own head, waiting for dawn with the memory of a life and love long since gone.

#500 follower event #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #divus crewel #mozus trein #twst sam #dire crowley

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thefallofophanim · 2 months

Text

INCIDENT

The church's mournful bells are distant, as if encased in glass. My mind is deaf, closed, as my condescending gaze judges the dozens of figures kneeling around the sacred coffin. Aliosha's funeral is glorious and empty, a perfect reflection of his life. He is and will never be anything more than a pretty face, slowly forgotten, degraded by the cruelty of human indifference. Once I die, I hope I won't have to suffer such humiliation, I think to myself, swallowing back the bile irritating my throat; sick in body, sick in mind.

"They stole his life." A whisper. Beside me, Anouk is pale, her lovely brown skin livid and her jet eyes glistening with hatred. Ever since her birth- a mistake of gods and men- ever since the beginning of her truncated and painful existence, it's as if Anouk had never not felt hatred, anger, in the depths of her being. I could see her shadow, long and cast on the tiled floor, trembling and taking shape; that of an animal figure - a canine, perhaps - with vengeful, sharp fangs, ready to devour everything around her. I blink, and the shadow is again that of a young woman. Next to each other, we wait in silence for this tortuous ceremony to end.

Shortly afterwards, Anouk became obsessed with escaping from this nightmarish place. For the first time, in front of the remains of a loved one, she saw beyond the bars of her gilded cage.

I look up from the piece of stained glass, and the memory washes over me. The Angel's accusing gaze falls on me, and I don't lower my head.

"Is this where your revenge began?" asks Aliosha in his heavenly voice. I don't answer-not out of fear, but out of rebellion. "What can a simple Angel do in the face of human resolve?"

☆

Do you remember your first meeting with him?" asks Anouk innocently, almost making me miss my letter - a magnificent J, decorated in gold, opening a new page of sacred text. She knows I need silence to concentrate, but doesn't seem to care today. I click my tongue, letting my annoyance show, and Semione chuckles at their own desk, on the other side of the room. "Don't be like that, Lysander. You're already a very dedicated pupil- seriously, you've been working too much lately. Dozens of new pages each day. At this rate, you'll be the most hard-working scribe the Silk has ever known. And as proud as that can make me, I am sure you can also afford to spend some time chatting with your friend that came to see you", they mock me. Semione has been looking so unusually melancholic ever since I heard their encounter with Confessor, and I find myself unable to talk back, now that they seem to be sincerely smiling. I sigh deeply, and turn to Anouk.

"Fine. Is 'him' referring to Aliosha?"

"Are you being stupid on purpose?" she retorts. Even Whiskers, curled up in her left hand (these two definitely get along well) seems to be giving me a disapproving look.

"I am not!" I exclaim quickly, only mildly offended. "It was about two years ago, in the Monastery Library."

"Didn't he try to steal some of the texts?"

"More or less. Let's say that forbidden borrowing would be a more fitting term. All he wanted was to know more about pre-Metamorphosis History." My fingers curl around soft paper.

"Aliosha was a very curious person, as insufferable as he could be" sniffed Anouk. "At least, he wasn't pretending to detain all of humanity's knowledge in his hand, for once."

"Ha-ha. Right." The paper is as white as the Angel poisoning my mind. I let go of the paper sheet.

"How did he react when you caught him?"

I clear my throat. "I am pretty sure he thought I was the Messiah Himself for a second."

The girl laughs, terribly amused.

"I hope he got on his knees and begged for forgiveness for at least four and a half minutes with his little Choir songs."

"I am afraid he did not, but he did walk directly into a bookshelf while trying to escape and certainly spent [at least] four and a half minutes putting all the books back to their initial place."

Semione rolled their eyes. "He damaged a masterpiece of mine. And one of the scribe before me. I was enraged. I thought for an instant I would break my vow of nonviolence."

I hum approvingly. "If it wasn't for the rules, I would've shoved my fist into his face without a second thought."

"And that's the most dedicated Child of God for you" remarked Anouk teasingly. Striking a pose against my desk, eyes closed, I throw my head back theatrically. "Forgive me Father, for I have sinned..."

Laughs echo through the scriptorium, and the voices of the Ophanim are silent, for once, for now, allowing me a break from their endless supplications.

Suddenly, Anouk caresses my hand. It's gentle, innocent, but all I can feel is a harsh, sickly familiar grip around my wrist. I flinch and move my hand away, nearly slapping what I think, for a second only, to be Confessor in the process. She doesn't say anything, but I can sense disappointment. Pain, even. I can't bring myself to apologize. No apology would ever be enough, and we both know it, as much as we would give to a Being of Light to remain blissfully ignorant. Our insides are tarnished, I think as she covers her stomach with her cloth- an old sweater she refused to let go of. Uniformity has never been to Anouk's liking. She starts speaking again, of the way she met Aliosha, the offense he took at her not refusing to bow before him. Aliosha was never one to be humble.

That evening, I returned to the Monastery bookshop, ignoring the snide Angel hidden between the shelves.

The first incident occurred the next day. Whispers throughout The Silk, a wave of fright amidst a crowd of Angels, Scribes, Luthiers, and all the Others I've never spoken of. A trail of blood on the church's marble staircase, a life gone. I imagined the body - displayed beautifully, twisted, before the empty clouds of a cold morning. A premature departure for Heaven, and more importantly, a voluntary one. A member of the Choir. Ophanim laughed and weeped. 'Doubt in his mind', murmures the crowd. 'Loss of faith', they say.

#writing #prose

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the-blind-geisha · 2 years

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You reopened the love letters requests! YAY! Can I ask one from Sephiroth to the shy scientist (not sure if this qualifies, if it doesn't, just regular reader is fine). Flowers are:

BLACK BRYONT/LADY’S SEAL - Be My Support CACTUS - Endurance, My Heart Burns with Love THORNAPPLE - I dreamed of thee

NSFW, if possible? Thank you!

A/N: Ooh this should be enjoyable! I love those two so much. XD And she's still a reader and shy—I'm sure we all can relate to that one!

As a side note to others who catch this post: please check my pinned post or my description to see if love letters are open before sending one~! ♥

I apologize if this letter catches you off guard. I would have texted you, but what I have to say wouldn't fit in a mere text alone. Besides, I cannot say I can ever find a moment alone to speak with you on such a personal matter.

I feel we're both being watched rather closely, so this was the one way in which I could do so privately.

My mind has been in a race with my heart, wondering what to do let alone say or write. I worry if I say the few words that are on my mind, everything could shatter to dust in my very hand.

I do not wish for that.

I wish for it to thrive, grow into something more glorious than what I could dare even ponder on paper alone.

Often I find my mind drifting back to when we last spent time at The Gold Saucer. It was the one moment we were truly alone, and yet, I feel I didn't spend enough time to express deeply how I felt. I should have done more—said more. You are fearful of whatever expectations you believe I have, but I have absolutely none when it comes to my friends and the one I hold dear to me.

Hopefully, that last part is not lost on you. The one in this world that is nearest and dear to my heart is you alone.

Ever since I was paired to you regarding our work, I found the atmosphere about you quite alluring. There was something in the way you talked that made me feel at peace for once in my life. You talked to me as though I were your equal—or should I say, you spoke to me as though I were a patient at first.

You spoke me as though I were human. There...I finally found the words.

So many regard me as this 'amazing SOLDIER' with no faults. A god among men. I care little for that burden. The only reason that strength is cherished by me is that I have no fear that can obtain me. Save only one, and that's the loss of you from my life.

My dreams have run rampant as of late with visions of us together, hand-in-hand where none can disturbs us. With ease, I can feel as the wind serenades us, the canopy above giving us but a curtain of the sun's light. Every part of my body throbs with a desire that I am too cowardly to say before you, but perhaps on paper, it will be easier to speak of such things in person next we meet.

Though, I cannot deny... I wish I could see your reaction to such a fantasy. I can imagine you acting all the more bashful. It makes me smile, truly.

This vision, I wish we truly could meet one another in our dreams. A place where we could be undisturbed by all of those around us. For once, unbound by my duties and yours, we could be at peace with one another and let our inner most wilds come true.

We have spoken openly with one another a few times. My lips have spilled truth that they otherwise would not utter to another soul. May I ask if they can do more than such?

Allow them to tell a far more personal secret upon your skin as I trail from your cheek, to your throat and beyond. Your clothing will be discarded in haste by my own hands, as I whisper my ever longing want of you upon your throat, just feeling as you swallow harshly in eagerness for me to do more.

Will my breath entice your heart to quicken? Will you feverishly yearn for me to continue as I embrace you to where only your heart can feel my own? Oh, I would pray so.

Allow me to bed you there within the flowerbed all around us. A perfect vision for the perfect woman I wish to have in my life. My thighs cradling yours, giving them comfort and support as I stifle your cries of ecstasy with my lips, kissing you at a fever pitch. May your body blossom for me and me alone as I part the entrance to your womanhood with my ever growing want, feeling every budding warmth within you all the more.

Such a deep desire would have me crumble, my dear, as I shake with each eager thrust inside of you—claiming you as my own. Let the new sensation embrace you, allow you to fall to madness for want of more as it has me in these waking hours. Pulling you close, I would breath my love of you upon the nook of your neck with your breasts pillowing my chest. Let the warmth I wish to fill you with to grow roots and ensnare every lit fire within your soul to where you cannot find rest of my memory.

Will such a union leave you quivering for me to continue? I want to feel your body shake under me, hear you moan my name as sweat beads upon your skin like jewels in the night.

I want to do more than write about how I want you to be mine. I want to whisper it in your ear as I hold you close in this wretched, dying world.

Give me the strength I need to see you again. I want nothing more but for your fantasies with me to align perfectly.

Sincerely,

Sephiroth

#of course he says these things but he never accounts for milo #milo would find the perfect way to hack into dreams if he could #thanks for the request!#sephiroth love letter #sephiroth x mc #sephiroth x reader #sephiroth #ffvii #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #ff7 #ff7r #final fantasy 7 #love letters #mod answers #martascully #nsft

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bobwess · 1 month

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only human ama :D

What has been the hardest bit to write?

what has been the easiest bit to write?

any plot bits that snuck up on you either in the plotting or writing?

if you were to start it all from the beginning, what's one thing you'd change? or are you actually pretty damn satisfied with your glorious creation?

what's the silliest line that you've written for it?

did you have the current arc planned out from day 1 or is each season only planned out once you get there?

do you think season 11 is going to be the longest of the three?

in that same vein, do you know where you want the next season to go?

if only human dean (human dean that is) and cas went on a date WITHOUT ANYTHING HORRIBLY GOING WRONG...what would that date look like?

Warning: There be spoilers here, for all “seasons” of Only Human. What has been the hardest bit to write?

Not a lot of the story is as it is on screen, but figuring out what bits I do want to happen the same is difficult for me. Though the longer the story goes, the further from the show we get, and the less I have to debate. I am always struggling with how much to show for things that happen in-show. Like, I didn’t feel the need to show Dean having his interactions with Cain because it happened like it does on screen. But what parts do I skip over? I don’t want it to ever feel like we’re missing out on context or skipping too far ahead, but I also don’t want to get bogged down. That and picking/adapting emotional beats. I thought Dean snapping and turning on Cas with the mark of Cain was a key part of his character arc, a really important reminder of what it meant, but obviously I both didn't want to copy the original, and the Stynes don't even exist in story, so we just went through a similar violent emotional turning point in the cabin.

what has been the easiest bit to write?

Late Season 10. A lot of the stuff in the cabin, but especially chapters 23-29. I dunno why, I just felt like I had them down and I was having an easier time envisioning it.

Any plot bits that snuck up on you either in the plotting or writing?

Chapter 4 and beyond. Turning Dean back into a demon for a second time with the mark. I wanted to expand on his time being a demon and coming back, but deciding to go for a second pass at it sort of just popped into my brain and derailed where we had been heading. And it led naturally into not turning him back human quite yet. Though the irony of a fic named Only Human where neither of the two main characters are presently human is not lost on me.

if you were to start it all from the beginning, what's one thing you'd change? or are you actually pretty damn satisfied with your glorious creation?

Honestly? I think I’m pretty happy. If I were starting from the beginning I think it’d be more fleshed out. I just write much longer and more detailed chapters now, so I think I’d have gotten a lot more packed into each chapter even if I just kept the structure of each chapter largely unchanged.

what's the silliest line that you've written for it?

"You know, it's not very sportsmanlike to cold-cock a man after sex."

did you have the current arc planned out from day 1 or is each season only planned out once you get there?

On Day 1 I was pretty sure I was writing a sweet and short 3 chapter story about Dean not kicking Cas out of the bunker in season 9.

Once I really got into the middle of it, I started a bit more planning. So I’ll enter a season with vague highlights I want to do, and then slowly start to structure around that. I went into season 10 with the idea that I wanted to explore Dean being a demon a bit longer and I wanted him to do some real damage instead of the boring gentle shit they do in the show. After I started I thought about how I wanted it to go when he stopped being a demon. Then I did that and thought about where I wanted it to go from there. This season I know the highlights of where Dean’s journey as a demon is going, and I know what I want the endgame to be, mostly because I know where I want season 12 to start for me. It’s sort of just the big notes. I know the very vaguest macros of season 11, 12, and 13.

do you think season 11 is going to be the longest of the three?

I do. My chapter length averaged about 2100 words in season 9, 2900 in season 10, and so far 3300 in season 11. Some of the chapters I’ve written for ricochet topped 6k. I’m getting long winded.

in that same vein, do you know where you want the next season to go?

I have a couple strong ideas. I know what parts of canon I want to incorporate into it, and what parts I really really don’t. Only Human has been very tangentially following some of the main plot beats from the original show, Metatron, Mark of Cain, The Darkness, but there is upcoming a point at which it hard-splits, and the fic really ends up on a different path that is unlikely to resemble the main plots of the show from then on.

if only human dean (human dean that is) and cas went on a date WITHOUT ANYTHING HORRIBLY GOING WRONG...what would that date look like?

Dive bar takeaway and a drive-in movie double feature.

#spn #ama #destiel #fic

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